#also its pretty clear that girl came there to do exactly that and like he probably has his guard down bc he’s home and then boom! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yourwinchesterbros · 8 months

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THE TWO OF US

Paring – Joel Miller x Fem reader / 10.3K Words

Summary – You find Joel taking care of you yet again, but not in the way you want. Tonight, you decide to address it.

A/N - I couldn’t stop thinking about this, so I decided to write it. Inspired by Episode 3 of the last of us, takes place in the clearing that Joel and Ellie settle in for the night but this time, it’s Joel and you.

Warnings – Minors, do not interact. This fic is 18+ only

The filthiest thing I’ve written so far, and I put all the blame on Joel Miller. He makes me absolutely feral!

Smut with little plot. Poor girl gets edged for way too long, teasing, masturbation for both, daddy kink, pet names - pretty girl, brat, sweetheart etc. (Joel calls reader whore once) Dirty talk, thigh riding, reader humps her sleeping bag, cursing, soft/dom Joel. Mentions of murder, blood, and wounds and weapons – knives, gun. (Reader has a small cut). Joel is in his fifties; readers age is not specified but absolutely over the age of 20. Please Let me know if I’ve missed anything! Enjoy!

“We’re stopping here f’ the night.”

Joel accelerates the Chevy S-10 ranger off the familiar pavement and onto the rough prairie towards the forest line. The uneven earth below you causes the truck to wobble, you grip the handle mounted above you to stay steady.

The sun is on its way to set and reveal the sky she has in mind for this evening. You hope it’s another blue and pink one, when the clouds blend it becomes a milky mauve and it’s Joel's favourite kind of sunset. Which naturally, and secretly, is the very reason why it’s become your favourite too.

You roll down the passenger window with the manual hand crank, wincing at the sore residing across your collarbone. A souvenir from earlier endeavors. Well, early as in this very morning.

When you and Joel came across what seemed like a stationed FEDRA stop, relief washed over when it was revealed to be just a band of yahoos. You quickly learned they were as nervous as you. Ironically enough, that’s an advantage, as your travelling partner was unlike the lot of you all. Joel possesses a different mindset than others. A different perspective that was always so solidified. Certain.

As the air in the environment shifted, it became hostile. This was a group with no good intentions. Not for the two of you anyhow. Yet you saw the fear grow in their eyes when Joel charged, surging forward, letting survival take over. The thing is, Joel also has a different sense of fear. Such as fear of getting off track while trying to find his brother, among a fear of running out of coffee and most impending, the fear of getting old. That one makes you laugh.

Therefore, when the two of you approached the group of three men and a lady, fear didn’t have a seat at Joel's table. So, your morning kerfuffle was exactly that – a mere kerfuffle that ended with 3 dead and one spared with a worn-out map. She won’t make it far though. Not on her own.

You initially tried to kill her yourself. An opportunity that was seconds away when you were straddling her chest, your knife hovered above her sternum, promising a fatal strike but you were viciously flung off by Joel with a quick “We don’t kill women” as he returned to bludgeon some poor guy’s face. The woman however had survival rules of her own. Taught by the men she traveled with; her version of death didn’t discriminate.

She was quick to retrieve her blade you’d tossed moments ago. Before you knew it, she was on top of you faster than you could gather yourself. She now had the high ground, the advantage and with no one to stop her, she swung the sharp steel across your skin with purpose. She aimed for your neck, but thankfully you were faster, your reactions saved you and you were rewarded a swift cut to the collarbone instead. You had reached for her jaw, throwing her off balance as you shoved her face upwards. Joel had then come to your rescue, pulling her to the side by her neck before putting the fear of God into her.

It could’ve been worse for you, but a part of you was relieved as you didn’t have to encounter the grief that weighs on one’s soul when they take a life. You’ve never killed before, but that doesn’t mean you won't. You’ve accepted the fact that it’s only a matter of time, but it’s an event you’re not eager to attend.

As much as you reamed out Joel for letting her go, for letting you nearly die at her hands, you really only chastised to keep hearing his apologies in that low southern drawl. It was a record you could keep on replay for all eternity. Joel saying sorry? What a sound.

With a tender touch, you press against the damp blue material covering your wound. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but a bit had still seeped through. Joel had given you some gauze which clung to the wound tightly as the blood hardened, like a scab. You figure it’ll have to be changed soon.

You gaze out the window, appreciating the cool breeze whistling across your features. You can smell the soil underneath the green grass as the truck tires roll over them.

To your surprise Joel continues past the trees, into the forest itself. A sliver of anxiety burst in your chest.

“We’re not camping by the tree line?” You question as your eyes frantically scour each gap between the lush evergreen trees.

“Not safe enough” he barely utters to you as he himself scans the earthy environment. “Less chance for surprises deep in here”.

“Mmmkay …” you hum, feeling a wave of sadness as you realize watching golden hour wouldn’t be in the cards tonight. Nature in this area is overgrown, and rich. The trees are abundant, dense, and evade the sky above you.

With a light squeal, the truck comes to a halt, and when the engine dies you know this is home for the night.

You pull out of the passenger seat and groan as you stretch your body, raising your hands above your head.

“Today was a long one hey? How many hours were we on the road?” You question as you glance around your new surroundings.

“You should know, you’re the one who told me you were gunna start observin’ more” He raises a brow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he unlocked the tailgate. “Guess it’s hard t’ count when you’re nappin’ half the ride.”

“Okay let’s not get carried away there, I don’t plan on being on your level of analysis, Miller.” You smirk at him as you help him unload the sleeping bags and the worn-out Coleman’s barbeque.

With a thud of the bags against the ground he turns to you.

“What’d I say ‘bout usin’ my last name?” His brows are drawn tightly now. His brown eyes dark like char, focus on yours. He places one of his hands, palm side down against the body of the truck, the other gripping his hip.

You raise your own hands in surrender as he scoffs with a shake of his head but continues unpacking. It’s something you tend to poke and prod him with from time to time. But only from time to time. Well, in the short time that you’ve known him anyway.

For some reason, it really does tick Joel off when you say his surname but that’s precisely why you enjoy using it when he least expects it. Because if he knows it’s coming, he won’t let it slide and you’re left talking to yourself for the remainder of the day, sometimes two. So, you use it when you want to be momentarily scolded, but you say it as if it’s an accident. A habit not quite beaten out of the inner brat in you.

You hear him mumbling to himself again as he splays the sleeping bags out, readying the grill for whatever canned goods are left. Sounds something like “You’re gunna learn one f’ these days” but you pay no further attention as you skip to the driver’s side of the truck, leaning into the center console to grab the cheap lantern. You won’t need it yet, but darkness tends to creep in much faster when you’re in the woods. You want it close by as you’ve not been granted access to firearms. No matter how many times you’ve pleaded Joel, it wasn’t up for discussion. Therefore, you’re left with your trusty blade and ‘works half-of-the-time’ lantern.

Joel heats up two cans, one possessing creamed corn and the other, ravioli. You prefer corn, but you don’t miss the smile that briefly dances in Joel’s eyes when he gets to take the ravioli for himself. Another mental note you’ve made about Joel. He likes his Chef Boyardee.

As the night crawls on, Joel summons you over with a sharp whistle to the tailgate where he’s standing.

“Hey, c’mere,” he pats the hard plastic of the trunk.

“Joel, I just got comfy. I’m finally warm in my little cocoon,” you pause as you wait for his mercy. None was served as he snaps his middle finger against his thumb to you again, motioning the truck with his forefinger as he continues unzipping a little red bag with the other.

“Get over here,” he demands but not in a mean way, his voice was softer than before.

“You’re not the boss of me,” you whisper under your breath as you make your way over to him, shuffling the sleeping bag off your feet.

“Heard that,” he grunts.

“Good,” you chirp back as you stand next to him.

“Up” he says, once again motioning his forefinger upwards to the tailgate.

With a roll of your eyes, you turn your back to the truck and hoist your bottom from beneath you up onto the bench. You sit there quietly, swaying your legs while watching Joel prod through the medical bandages and wipes with his large fingers in that small, little bag. A ping of jealousy rises in your chest as you wished you could have his fingers explore your –

“Quit thinkin ’so loud,” Joel interrupts your thoughts as he tears open a small white package between his teeth. An action that makes you bite your bottom lip involuntarily.

It’s no secret you struggle around Joel. Maybe it’s the long-term effects of the apocalypse, causing so many to lose the common sense of touch with one another. Creating incredibly touch-starved individuals, especially you.

Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been properly touched by a man, and you think Joel would know how, you think of it far too often. Or maybe it’s simply because a man like Joel emits sexuality with his entire being. It’s like he releases a pheromone that makes those around him go feral for his manhood. At least that’s how you feel anyways.

Your eyes tend to linger longer than you’d like when you watch Joel grip his rifle, his strong hand cupping the neck of the gun. The way his fingers trace lightly on the trigger, teasing the bullet inside to erupt. The way he narrows his sight into the scope, his breath held before exhaling in the most sensual way. The way his broad shoulders rise and fall before he makes his kill. Hell, you could watch this man paint and still be in a pool of your own arousal.

Maybe it’s just because Joel is the most masculine man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, becoming partners with, in the coworker sense of course. He possesses the knowledge, the experience, the determination, the patience, and strength… of survival. But you’ve always wondered if those same factors come into play when he likes to…play.

Joel has always noticed when you’re thinking, the way you zone out on his lips or his large fingers. Your eyelids become hooded as he watches the filthy gears turn inside your mind. It’s something you do without even realizing and he fucking loves it. It makes his heartbeat fonder; his ego grow bigger and without fail, each time, it makes his cock twitch in his jeans. Which is the final action that brings him back to reality to snap your dirty little naïve mind out of it.

He understands the effect he has on women, how they would stare at him back at the QZ. Crawl to him with need, begging to be put out of their misery. It’s a quality he doesn’t mind as it makes it easy to find release but when it comes to you, he scolds himself for ever letting his mind drift into those delicious, curious, devilish thoughts. Your innocence is a hidden treasure in this corrupt world, and Joel simply won’t corrupt that too.

He recognizes the way you stray close to him as if he's shelter. The way you look at him with wide eyes when he senses danger, how you shuffle so tight into him, because you know he’ll protect you. And he will. He quietly prides himself in being your gatekeeper. How you give him complete control over your life, a feeling he’s only ever had once before.

He pictures you as a small ornament made of thin glass. So precious, yet so fragile and it sits so nicely in his roughed up, deadly, deleterious hands. He could shatter it so easily. Let the pieces fall at his feet and walk away before the fear of failure seeps in, had he done that in the start, his feelings would be protected.

But the problem is, he’s gotten attached to his little ornament. Therefore, he’ll watch every move he makes, to be sure not to flinch and accidently crack it. He dreads the weight that comes with the stiffness of protecting you, how it makes his body and mind ache, but he knew. He knew the moment he took you out of the QZ and into the unknown, that he would ache till the day he takes his last breath. He made his choice that very night, that he's responsible for you. He just didn’t realize how much he would care. How much you’ve impacted him. How much of you has molded into him and the things he recognizes in you that you’ve gained from him. His little ornament, he vows to keep safe because the eternal hell that comes with defeat, he simply won’t go through again.

He stares down at you, looking at your eyes still trained on his mouth that has just ripped open the white plastic. He wondered if it reminded you of the memories that creeped into his. If you've ever seen one before. A type of rubber that used to sit in his wallet pre apocalypse when he travelled to seedy bars.

“Take your shirt off” You snap your eyes from his lips to meet his brown ones. They’re still dark from the “Miller” comment you made earlier but this time there’s a twinkle you can’t quite read.

“You, y- you want me to take it off?” You speak so softly but in such a needy way Joel has to forcefully repress the groan that’s stuck in his throat. Instead, he smirks at you.

“Need t’ see the cut”. You blush at his words, feeling silly for assuming he’d want anything otherwise. God you were so lost in your train of thoughts, you’d briefly forgotten what you were sitting here for.

Joel catches sight of your blush by the low light of the lantern sitting next to the med bag. He knows he can’t give into you, or let himself ponder on you for too long, but that doesn't mean he can’t have a little fun teasing you.

You grab the hem of your sweater, peeling it up and over your head, leaving you in your white tank top. One that had been stained from dirt and blood, but you’ve washed it in rivers in between travels. The stains never come out, no matter how hard you try.

You hear his breath hitch as you pluck the sweater off, bundling it to your side and it only fuels the ache in between your legs that much more.

You slip in and out of your trance, feeling so vulnerable yet powerful in the hands of Joel. Waiting for his next move. You watch his eyes examine your cut, as he chews on the inside on his cheek.

“S’not too bad, but could get infected, especially when we’re out here,” he explains, opening the wet cloth that was inside the package and before he brings it to your wound, he raises a finger lightly over your shoulder.

“Just... gunna move this out f’ the way” his voice velvet as he softly shifts your tank strap away from your wound to the edge of your shoulder, enough for it to fall down your arm on its own. The motion of it all raising a shiver up your tailbone. You then see his eyes grow heavy, his tongue dipping out to wet his bottom lip.

The touch of his calloused fingers against your skin, the way the strap falls from his grasp, how his eyes briefly drop to your chest before seeing the red blotches form across his neck, all these things have your buds growing hard against the fabric of your shirt.

You groan when he removes the old gauze and finally applies the alcohol-soaked cloth against your cut. The sting somehow adding to your arousal. You can’t help but let a small pornographic moan slip from your lips resulting in a hiss from Joel.

“Jesus” He mutters, more to himself than you. His other hand palms his crotch to briefly adjust the growing hard on beneath the zipper. He thought he was subtle in the dark, but you still saw, and it drove you wild.

His touch shocks you as his hand gently grips your neck, holding you still as he dabs your sore some more. You see the wrinkles forming on his forehead as he bends down, leaning in close to inspect the cut further. You could roll your eyes in pure ecstasy just from the way he has you in his grasp. The way his head is ducked down beneath yours, so closely to your chest, you can nearly feel his hot breath kissing your nipples.

You feel your dignity slipping away. You want nothing more than to submit to him, let him take what he wants. You’ve seen the signs, surely, he’s thought about it too.

His big thumb lightly caresses your sensitive skin as he focuses on wiping up the rest of the smeared mess that stained your collar bone. In between his shuffling, you spread your legs open some more, hoping he’ll come closer.

You peer down, watching his eyes flicker to yours, a warning resides within them. He knows what you’re doing, and he isn’t going to take bait. He’s in trouble enough as it is. You bite down on your lip, trying to suppress the guttural want inside you. But your mouth falls agape when his glare falls back to your neck, tracing slowly back to your wound before looking down lower to your breasts poking through your thin shirt. He inhales deeply through his nose, his eyes closing as if he’s praying for restraint. You hope none delivers.

In one motion, he regathers himself in such a Joel manner, you know he’s done playing. He tosses the crimson-stained wet fabric back into the red bag, zipping it up in such aggression you thought it might just break.

“Just keep it covered, should heal fine,” He orders, not once looking your way.

“Joel” you mewl to him, your hands having a mind of their own as they reach for his jacket.

“No” he says bluntly, his eyes on the med kit. He’s trying to be cold, but you can hear the quiver that laces his voice.

He tosses the bag further into the trunk, he jaws clenching so hard you think his teeth might shatter.

“Joel” you cry again softly, biting your lip. Your arousal is becoming unbearable, downright painful. At this point, you can care less about how pathetic you sound. You just need relief, but this time from him.

“I said no,” He growls, “It’s bedtime.”

Joel then, in one movement reaches one arm under yours, supporting your back and the other hand gripping your waist.

You clutch the collar of his jacket, panting feverishly, your heart racing from his touch. His head had leaned down close enough, you thought he might just kiss you.

But then you realize what's really happening as he picks you up off the tailgate and plants you on your feet to the ground. You don’t miss the way his hand lingers before letting you go.

“I’ve got first watch, get into your sleepin’ bag,” He commands as he picks up his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder.

“I’m not tired” you whine, desperation seeping out of your pores.

“M’ don’t care, we have a long day tomorrow n’ you need rest, so get rested.” His voice is strained as his teeth grit at the end of his sentence. He putters around, putting the lantern next to your bag, closing the lid to the barbeque, not once looking in your direction.

And you know why. He’s trying to hide his desire from you, the evidence sticking out in his jeans. Trying to distract himself from the utter temptation that hangs in the air. Trying to be the good guy that is strictly business and most days his virtuous behavior warms you, but tonight it’s pissing you right off.

“I can’t sleep like this Joel, I, I- I’m uncomfortable” you whimper, your arms at your side as you admit defeat.

“That’s enough” he spits your name “M’ not saying it again.”

Your perk up when he turns, striding towards you but it’s quickly followed by a groan when he passes you to go to the truck. He grabs your sweater, before slamming up the tailgate with force. The sexual frustration radiant in his demeanor.

You watch him come closer; his knuckles white from gripping the fabric of your top. Your breath catches when you meet his eyes, his glare so intense you think you might become a meal, you hope you will.

He raises his fist to your chest; you look down at the blue material.

“Put this on, it’ll protect your wound. I’m checking the perimeters then I’ll be back” he says lowly, peering down at you without tilting his head. When he does this, it makes you feel incredibly small, more than you normally feel around him. Which you like. You frown at his back as he strides away, towards the trees.

“Joel, please” you whine again. “I – I need – “ Tears begin pricking at your eyes, you’ve never felt this needy in your life, and all you want is Joel. He’s the only one that can help.

He stands still, before turning his head to the side, his knee popping out in his stance. He stays that way for a moment before you hear him sigh loudly. He turns to face you, hand gripping his jaw as his eyes scans your figure, weeping in front of him.

“Sweetheart, I know what you need,” His nickname shocks and spurs you on all at the same time.

“Do what you need to do, I’m goin’ to do rounds, I’ll be back when you’re done okay?” His tone shifts from frustrated to understanding, his face somber but riddled with want. You glance down at his jeans, his bulge sticking out so loudly. You feel yourself start salivating.

“Can’t you do it Joel?” You mewl “Help me feel better?”

This time he groans, one so low and gravelly you think you might cum right there.

“Baby girl I can’t” his palm rests on his forehead before he runs his thick fingers through his salt and pepper locks.

“You know I can’t” His voice is getting rougher in between his pants. “I need you to crawl into bed and touch yourself, okay? I know you can do it” He points his index at your sleeping bag and with a sigh he walks off before you can say anything else.

And just like that he disappears into the darkness. You know he won’t stray far, but enough to grant you privacy. You groan to yourself, hoping it wasn’t going to end like this, but it is progress. You had touched yourself before, but always in secret. In worry Joel might get upset or confused, or worse - mad as to why you would need to relieve yourself around him. You always feared he’d find you weak or pathetic if he caught you, so you always waited until he was on patrol in the dark, or settled in his own room in whatever housing the two of you would find.

The fact that Joel now knows, and understands, and is urging you to, is incredibly sexy.

You grab the slippery material and bring it over, near to his that lay empty. You slid yourself in and with shaky hands, undo the buttons and zipper to your confining jeans before snaking your hand down to your soaked cotton panties. You sigh at the touch, savoring in the instant relief that comes with it.

With slow, messy circles, you rub the outside of your panties against your core as you think about Joel's strong hands lifting you off the tailgate. The way his chest was pressed against your breasts, the way his hands lingered on you. Your breathing quickens as you start rubbing circles harder and quicker, cupping your swollen clit. More tears begin to form in the corners of your eyes when you begin to think this isn’t going to work. Not when you know he’s around. Not when he’s the very reason you’re dripping down your thighs in the first place. Not when you need him.

In an act of desperation, you kick off your sneakers, toss them on the grass with two thuds and strip your jeans completely off. Your cocoon becomes so humid with the heat from your arousal that you end up crawling out of it before bunching it up enough to straddle the material, grinding against it. You whine as the friction brings more relief than your fingers as you start humping your sleep bag. The cool breeze against your dewy skin feels like a kiss from mother nature herself. You feel yourself grow closer to your climax as you begin to furiously hump more, your knees against the earth, your thighs spread wide. You know how ridiculous you must look, but you couldn’t give a shit. You need relief in order to have some clarity again.

Then you hear it. The unmistakable clink of his belt buckle coming undone. The teeth of his zipper groaning apart before he lowers his jeans. You listen as you slow your pace, riding the edge of your summit, teasing yourself. You hear him spit into the palm of his hand before you imagine him gripping his length. When he finally groans, you know he’s fisting himself.

You smirk and decide to have fun with this. As you stop your pace all together, you peel off your blue sweater once again, leaving you in the same white revealing tank top. You know he’s somewhere in the darkness behind you, but you aren’t sure if he knows you know, yet.

You hike your panties up higher, the band hugging your hips and exposing more of your plush cheeks spilling out from the cotton material. You hear him grunt again.

As you start grinding slowly, you snake one hand up to your chest and pinch your bud, rolling it between your two fingers, eliciting a moan from you.

“Fuck”

He’s getting louder, still muttering to himself as he watches you from behind a cedar tree. With his rifle still slung on his shoulder, he fists his cock, his other hand wide against the trunk to brace himself.

His eyes have gotten adjusted to the darkness, so when he returned quietly to the base you guys share, he saw you touching yourself in your sleeping bag underneath the moonlight.

He had debated on rubbing one out while checking the perimeters, but his mind wouldn’t let him. He knew he had to come back to you. He knew you would be relieving yourself like the good girl you are because you always listen to him, always do what you’re told.

But when he saw the frantic and frustrated way you slipped your pants off and bunched your bag to start humping, he knew he needed to watch. He needed to see the way you make yourself cum.

“Joel” You moan out as you continue your pace, your hips bouncing as you hump.

He groans again, his southern drawl slipping out like honey “Oh… fuck yeah baby girl, that’s it” You could hear his fist becoming more frantic against himself.

You decide to put on a show, grinding your hips in the most sensual way. Your pants getting breathier, your whines higher.

Joel was in a trance; he was fixated on you. Watching your every move, stroking himself to your pace. The view of your ass, the way your shirt slightly rises revealing the beautiful curve of your back, your hair swaying with your hips, you’re like a goddess in the woods. All he could picture was laying beneath you, letting you grind yourself on his mouth, tasting your juices, making you cum all over his face.

God, he wants you. He wants to show you he can be more than just your protector. He can help you, treat you so well, but he knows it would be so wrong. To some degree he’s taking advantage of you. You don’t know any better, not when you’re overwhelmed with all these kinds of needs. Hell, he’s overwhelmed himself but he’s also a lot older than you. He knows how to suppress it, how to will the feelings away and concentrate. But you, you’re not experienced. You need to make yourself cum in order to feel sane again. Once you’re this far deep into lust, it’s primal. It’s a need, not a want. He can’t blame you for caving into your desires yet him on the other hand, he’ll be held accountable by the devil himself.

But if there was ever a time where Joel was losing control with the fine line between right and wrong, it was now.

He continues his strokes, obsessing over how naughty you really are. He’s never seen you like this before. “C’mon baby, you can do it” He whispers.

You couldn’t stop yourself from what happened next.

“Joel?” You call out softly. All sounds cease.

“Yea?” He finally responds, after a long, quiet pause.

“Please” You beg “Please I need you.”

You curse yourself as you hear him zipping himself back up, suddenly feeling embarrassed as you’re still sitting in the state you are.

You peek over your shoulder to see him approaching you, buckling his belt. His jaw ticking as he stares at your ass. His bulge seems to be growing bigger.

You prepare for the worst. For him to cuss you out or tell you that you missed your chance. Had you left it alone, the two of you would have finished and he would have returned a little later to make it seem as if he wasn’t there at all.

But you just couldn’t do that, could you?

“Get in the truck”. He growls, his boots drowning in the material of your sleeping bag. You look up at him, to him looking down at you. You couldn’t make out his face as the light of the moon is directly behind him.

“W-Why... a a-are we leaving?” You whisper, suddenly afraid you royally fucked up.

“Are you talkin’ back to me?” His voice is sharp. Deep. Serious. Unreadable.

You shook your head as submission rolls over you effortlessly. He hikes his jeans by pinching the denim near his crotch before squatting down to your level. His breath right next to your ear. You stare forward into the darkness as goosebumps rise all over your skin. You feel so vulnerable with Joel right behind you but just as excited. You flinch as soon as he speaks.

“If you want my help, then do what I say” he says in a low rumble. You pause, holding your breath.

“Think you can manage that?” He questions, his tone unrecognizable as he turns his head to inhale the scent of your hair. You shiver, nodding once more. Your heart rate picks up speed, thudding loudly.

“Then, get up and get in the truck.” He orders you slowly. Almost as if he’s trying to stop the words from coming out.

Your eyes widen at his demand, a jolt of electricity soaring through your chest straight to your abdomen. With a careful shuffle, you stand on your feet and start towards the truck.

In any other scenario, this feeling would make you shrink. It’s the way you can feel his eyes on you, the thud of his boots echoing behind your naked ones in the grass. But you love every second of it. You feel your confidence flourishing as you realize he needs this just as much as you do. If not more. You begin to walk straighter, hips swaying wider, a pep in your step as you feel the power shift ever so slightly into your control.

“Someone’s gettin’ cocky” Joel states behind you. His palm gripping his crotch as he watches you.

“I sure hope I get some” You grin to yourself, feeling proud at your remark.

Joel stops in his steps; he can’t believe your dirty mouth. Sure, you’ve been foul around him before, but never sexually and the very fact ignites something dark within him. He proceeds forward, eyeing you down as you wait near the truck with that shit-eating grin on your face.

She’s in for it now.

“You think you’re funny?” He questions while approaching you. His large frame nearly swallowing you whole.

“Uh huh and I think you love it” You retort in your most sultry tone. The words hit him like a freight train, his cock bobbing in his jeans.

With a tut he leans into you “So ya’ think y’can toy with me?”

You can’t repress it, you’re beaming. You like the way Joel challenges you.

“I think it’d be better if I was yours, Miller” You reach out to grip his cock through his jeans.

He separates instantly, his face loss of all expression. The muscle in his jaw flexes as his eyes lock on yours.

“I think your attitude needs fucking fixin’” Your jaw drops at his profanity. Joel never speaks like this.

“You say that name one more time and so god help me,” He scowls “acting like a fuckin’ brat, tryin’ to rile me up” His eyes now black.

“Think that’ll end well f’ ya?” He questions, one brow raised.

You swallow, unsure if you took it too far.

“Well, you’re lucky, cus’ I enjoy turning brats into good girls... s’ you ready to learn some manners?” He mocks as he grips your mouth, which was still gaping.

“Start with closing that up until I say so, s’not lady like.” He pushes your chin up, your jaw closes with a click of your teeth.

You scoff in disbelief, pulling your chin out of his hand yet you’re incredibly turned on. You watch him in curiosity as he opens the passenger door for you, his face now as hard as his cock. You wait, wanting to test his patience just a little.

You see his chest heave; his teeth grind together before he grips the door harder.

“Guess there won’t be any lessons tonight after all...real shame too, was gunna make that pretty pussy cream all over me” He shrugs, about to close the door.

“No! I’m sorry Joel, I’m going!” You jump into the seat with such speed it makes Joel smirk, but his jaw goes slack the second he sees the wet spot that had formed on your cotton panties as you crawl in.

He groans at the sight. But if he was going to stay true to his vows, you’d have to keep your panties on or else he may damn himself beyond saving. He only has so much self control.

You rub your thighs together in anticipation as you watch him slowly stride his way to the other side of the truck. Your breath quickens as his door swings open; your fingers shake with sheer excitement.

He starts unzipping his camel-colored jacket before shuffling in. With a toss, his jacket lands in the back seat as he closes the door with a thud.

You listen to him groan softly as he settles into the seat, before reaching down between his legs to pull on the bar to slide the chair back as far as it can go. You find yourself already scrambling onto your knees.

“Needy girl” he tuts “already so excited f’ me”. He locks eyes with you, a mischievous smile grows across his face as he takes his time positioning his legs.

He then reaches to the side of the seat to lean the backrest down, but not too far. This allows him to manspread while he rests his aching broad back at the same time.

With a deep inhale through his nostrils, he looks at you with now hooded eyes.

“Need you to listen closely now” His raises one index in the air. “I’m gunna help you alright?”

You whimper a “Mhm!”

“But there are rules. Rules you need to follow.” You roll your eyes at his comment, which is returned with a scowl across his face. You mouth a brief ‘sorry’ before motioning him to continue, your desires reaching a boiling point.

“You’re not takin’ anything off and you’re not touchin’ me anywhere unless I allow it” He glares sternly.

“Yes, okay Joel” you usher, wanting to be in his touch before he changes his mind.

“Shouldn’t even be doing this, but I understand you’re having a hard time. Fuck, the state of our lives I can’t imagine the stress you feel, especially when you’re so young”. You squeeze your thighs, clenching around nothing as you wish he would get off the foreseeable guilt train.

“So that’s why I’m going to help you, understand?”

You nod furiously.

“Repeat it” He spits.

“I understand” You reply obediently.

With a quiet pause, Joel scans your features, his eyes trailing your desperate figure.

“C’mere” He pats his thigh with his large, calloused hand.

You obey, slowly crawling over to straddle his lap.

“Mmm” His chest rumbles. “She does listen”.

His eyes are closed as you position yourself over one thick denim covered thigh, your right knee brushing up against his crotch. He hisses at the touch, letting his head fall back into the headrest.

You raise your hands to rest at the nape of his neck, suddenly feeling sheepish as you’re not sure exactly what to do. You bite your lip, too nervous to start. You realize just how exposed you feel when you're up to him this closely.

He opens his eyes to meet yours, sighing at how beautiful you look when you’re aching but more so at the fact that you’re visually embarrassed, and he loves it.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now. You were acting all brave just minutes ago.” He coos.

You blush at his words, starting to feel silly. But you need him to encourage you. You like it.

He swiftly smacks your ass and bounces his knee once – motioning you to get going.

“Joel” You whisper at the infliction, lowering your head to rest in his neck, repositioning yourself against him, closer. Just the contact of your hot core on him, makes your arousal pain even more. And the way he smells, you tuck your nose further in, inhaling the scent of his earthy musk, is intoxicating.

“C’mon baby girl. You can do it, I got you” He finally raises his hands from his sides to grip your hips as his own roll up into you, you follow once with yours. “You need to cum, so you can sleep tonight, trust me I know”. You begin to slowly roll your hips, falling right back into the state of pleasure.

“J-just like that sweetheart, keep going”. His voice becomes raspy.

You hang off his words as you start grinding, moaning at his fingertips digging deeper into your soft skin. Your buds harden at the friction of your wet clothed cunt being rubbed against his jeans. You can’t believe this, the fact that Joel himself is sat beneath you, cooing you to finish yourself off on him.

Your pants become whines as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten with each hump against him.

“That’s it, good girl. You’re gunna make a mess on me aren't ya?” He growls as he stares at your lips. Your cheeks burn at his comment. The embarrassment seeping back into you. You can hardly look at him.

“You keep those eyes on me sweetheart”. He orders, one hand pinching your chin, forcing you to see him, you still look anywhere but.

He can read you like an open book. He see’s right through you. Hell, most of the time he can predict the things you’ll say. He knows you just need some encouragement, some reassurance that it’s okay to be nervous but that you can trust him.

He ceases, waiting for those wide doe eyes to meet his and when they do, he can’t help but grin.

“Why?” You begin to question.

“Tell me you want this” he whispers, the words hang in the silence.

“I want this.” You grip the back of his neck tighter. “I just feel… dumb. I’m not sure how to do this”. You mumble.

“Sure y’ do” his words surprise you and when you look at him, the confusion is clear on your face.

“I just watched you do it when you were all by yourself, humping your bag, tryin’ to make that ache go away” He murmurs as one of his hands brush a stray hair behind your ear. You shudder at the touch.

“That’s all you have to do with me sweetheart, just use my thigh and make yourself feel good”. He urges you as he begins motioning your hips once more, you watch his face as you take over, following the sensation as it builds again.

“There y’ go, nothing to be shy ‘bout pretty girl, y’ just need my help ain’t that right?”

You bob your head yes as your pace begins to quicken.

“That’s my sweet girl, take what you need, s’ just the two of us” He coos as he helps you continue grinding.

You throw your head back at his praise, which Joel saw as his opportunity to fist your hair and hold you bare for him as he trails your neck with wet kisses. A risky move, but he tells himself it’s only to help you. And fuck does it ever spur you on.

His teeth graze against your sensitive flesh and your grinding becomes rougher, more desperate. Your whines turn to moans as you feel your cunt drip through the fabric, your climax just strokes away.

“Stop” He orders, and you do.

Did you do something wrong?

He releases your hair slowly, inhaling deeply through his nose, his jaw ticking once more. He looks down at his lap, admiring your white panties.

“Slide back” He mumbles as he pushes your hips. “I need t’ see”. You ease back, your mind drunk off his sudden dominance.

With a moan, he stares at your clothed pussy, admiring the wet slick between your folds. Your pussy lips so swollen, he could see it throb. He breaks away looking up, closing his eyes as if he’s trying to compose himself. Not a second later, he looks back at you again, back to your pooling core, his jaw goes slack as you already seem wetter, your damp stain somehow bigger.

“Look at that.” He gently inches your thighs apart with his massive hands, causing you to throb more.

“You see what you’re doin’ pretty girl?” His southern drawl spurs on another wave of ecstasy to rush through you as you watch his reaction.

He fists your hair once more, turning your head down to face his lap, you yelp in surprise but not because it hurts.

“Look”. He roughly pulls your head in place to view the dark, wet spot you’re making on his jeans.

“Have you been walkin’ around all wet in your panties this whole time?” he cranes his neck to meet your gaze as you look at the mess you’ve caused, mouth agape. His face hardens when he sees yours.

“What I’d fuckin’ say about hanging your mouth open like a whore?” he growls as he squeezes your chin and cheeks with his free hand.

He holds you like that for a beat, one hand twisted in your hair, the other gripping your face restraining you from any movement. You gasp loudly when your cheeks are released from his tight hold, yet your hair is still intertwined in his fist as he forces you to look at your arousal again.

“That tight pussy droolin’ for me?” He questions sharply.

You finally murmur a yes while clenching your mouth shut as you blink slowly, drunk off being edged for so long.

“Yeah, I thought so” he says raggedly as if he’s been waiting for that very response. He lets you free as you lean back wanting to display yourself more. He sighs contentedly at the sight.

It’s become clear to you why Joel was so adamant about staying away. He’s primal in nature, but you had no idea he was this feral in lust. You smirk as you feel you’ve uncovered his dirty secret, his hidden persona. It makes you wonder how long he’s wanted you like this. If he was afraid of you seeing this side of him. And for some reason, that only makes you want him that much more.

“Touch yourself for me, just a little rub.” He rests further back against the seat, watching you and those dirty gears running at an all time high.

You comply, running your hand down his chest as you snake your fingers against the white wet cotton, rubbing slow circles over your clit, moaning at the sensation.

“Good girl” He praises. You can feel your wetness pooling through your panties as you continue rubbing yourself, your orgasm dangerously close. Your mouth drops again forming an “O” which elicits another groan from Joel as he watches you. “Yea, that’s the only time you’re allowed to look like that” He growls.

“I’m – I’m close Joel” You pant as he stares you down.

“That’s enough” You whine when he grabs your hand away from your core, bringing your fingers up to his face.

“Yea, I fuckin’ knew it” He groans, inhaling your fingers deeply, eyes closed. “I know you’re dripping in your little panties when I smell this scent off you” He smears your fingers roughly around his mouth and nose, still breathing you in. You watch in awe, the way he’s completely consumed by you.

“Hard t’ focus when you’re parading that little ass around me, reeking like this, just beggin’ to be filled up, you rub yourself like this around me at night?” He asks, voice hoarse.

Your cheeks burn again, but you nod once anyhow.

“My dirty, dirty girl. You’re just full of secrets, aren't yah”. He pants. “Fuckin’ knew you were wanting my cock. You just needed someone to make that ache go away, huh?”

You whine as you nod more, feeling so heard, so seen. “Yes Joel, yes” All you want is to feel him fill you up. Hit that spot that you can’t ever reach. You succumb to him, hoping he might just fuck you and you won’t have to get off like this. You want all of him. To discover more of who Joel is. Help him, just like he’s helping you.

“And you’re still treating me so good, listenin’ to what I say, even when I’ve been neglecting my poor baby” He drawls lazily as he pulls you back into place, and with another bounce of his knee, you resume your vicious pace chasing your orgasm. The way your perky breasts jiggle in your tank causing him to bounce his knee more, absorbing the view of you bobbing up and down with tears welling in your eyes.

You reach one hand down, to grip his hard on, wanting to feel his thickness again, hoping he might let you see it.

“No.” His hand wraps around your wrist in an instance. A grip so cruel, you swear there’ll be bruises when he lets go.

“Why not?” You cry, your hips still rolling.

“Boundaries, sweetheart. You can’t touch me there.” He smirks devilishly. He knows this is torture for you.

You whimper, your eyes falling to his lips. You want to make contact with those the most.

“Knock it off. I see the way you’re starin’. You’re not kissin’ me either.” His smile is now gone, yet his eyes sparkle. You swear he’s getting off by restricting your contact with him. He knows how badly you want it.

You rest your hands tightly around his neck again, the disappointment visible on your features.

“Don’t look at me like that, fuck, you have no idea what you do to me”.

You pout more, relishing in the way he’s weakening for you.

“Tell you what” he drawls, slowing your pace. His fingers at some point had slipped into the band of your panties as he held your hips.

“Because you’ve been such a good girl f’me , I’ll let you kiss here” He raises an index to his scruffy cheek “And here” as he points to the other side.

You can’t help the smile that grows on your face as you lean forward gently, placing a soft, agonizingly slow, peck to cheek, your nose brushing lightly against his skin. You test his limits as you get close to his lips as you make your way to the other side. You swear you feel him inch forward ever so slightly before falling back.

“God, you’re just a sweet lil thang aren’t yah” he groans at your light, edging touches.

You pull back, feeling powerful at just how wrecked he looks. You bite your lower lip, continuing slow rolls.

You decide to do it again.

“Oh fuck, baby that’s enough” He moans as you place yet another teasingly slow kiss to his cheek, but close to the edge of his lips. He pulls his face away, turning to the side. He’s completely fucked out. His eyes heavy with pure want. God and this is just from kissing him.

Then something snaps in him as he grips your ass and makes you rub on him harder and lets your knee make more contact with his bulge.

“Yeah – yeah that feels really good” You mewl.

He turns his face back to yours, staring you down. His grip is getting harder, almost painful but you don’t care.

“Keep going” He rasps. “Don’t stop, I know you’re close.”

“Uh huh” You moan “You’re gunna make me cum Da- J- Joel” Your eyes widen at the fact you almost slipped, but it doesn’t go unnoticed.

His eyes go dark as he clutches your ass tighter, leaning his face into yours.

“What was that sweetheart?” He whispers with his teeth grit, his nose grazing the side of your cheek.

You whine as he helps you continue your pace, pushing you back and forth on his thigh.

His hand snakes up, gripping your cheeks between his thumb and index. “You fuckin’ answer me when ‘m talking to you” He spits lowly.

“It feels really good!” You squeal as he starts to slow your rhythm.

“What else?”

Your hooded eyes connect with his, your cheeky grin making his cock twitch more.

“Tell me” He orders.

You pull yourself into his neck before whimpering into his ear.

“It feels good … Daddy”.

His groan is guttural as he squeezes your ass cheeks together.

“My dirty girl, you need your Daddy to help you huh?” He pulls you closer, your knee making full contact against his throbbing cock.

You nod your head furiously as your brows knit, you know you’re about to cum.

“Tell me why I’m your Daddy” he orders, his brows rising and falling.

You start to babble “Because you protect me” you barely get the words out, you’re so wrecked.

“I do, don’t I?” His voice drops an octave, while analyzing your face.

“And you’d kill for me” you moan.

“I have,” He pulls you down hard into him and holds you there, while grinding his crotch into you. “Killed for you”.

His eyes scour you frantically. Like there is so much he wants to do with you. Endless thoughts running through his mind of all the ways he could ruin you.

“Take your fuckin’ shirt off” he says rushed, as if this moment could get ripped away from him.

You obey, reaching the hem, and pulling it off in one swift motion. You toss it behind you onto the dash.

“That’s right” He spanks your ass hard.

“Go” He grits, and you grind down, your tits bouncing just inches from his face. He moves his hands off you and puts them down at his sides. As if to physically restrain himself from touching you.

“Fucking perfect, like a god damn picture” he watches your breasts as you’re nearing your climax again.

“M’ can’t let anyone hurt my special girl.” His expression turns hard as he feels his possessive side creep up. The men he murdered this morning were an exact representation of what he’ll do for you. Without question. He knew he was going to feel the blade sink in their flesh the second one laid eyes on you, the intention loud in his irises.

“I never wanna be apart from you Joel, you make me feel safe” Your confession comes out before you can stop it.

“I know baby, I know but fuck I love to hear it” He could listen to your sweet voice all day.

“Take your pants off, please” You beg but it sounds more like a squeal.

“No” He barely whispers.

“Please, Daddy please please, I wanna cum on you, it hurts!” You cry.

“Jesus Christ” His hands go to his belt, anxiously unbuckling, as you continue to mewl hovering above him.

“Always so fuckin’ needy” He pulls his jeans down his thighs before grabbing you and pulling you down aggressively onto him, his boxers the only thing confining his cock. "That's all you get" He spits.

“Wait” You reposition yourself, now straddling his lap. One knee on either side of his hips as you grind your wet, hot clothed cunt onto his massive, throbbing cock.

The moan that comes out of you is straight pornographic.

You suddenly lurch forward, before realizing he reclined the seat back further, almost laying flat.

“Put those fuckin’ tits on my face baby” He commands desperately.

You place your knees higher up on the cushioned seat. You pull yourself upwards to smother his face with your breasts. Joel's rough hands are still by his sides, he knows he’ll lose all sense of control if he gets any closer. No, it has to be your move.

“Yeah, Yeah, Joel please” You moan as he begins to softly kiss your breasts.

“You need more baby?” He gasps, his voice strained with want.

“Tell Daddy y’ need more, you need more help, I have to help” He consoles himself as he begins to suckle your buds, licking long strips wherever he can. It’s animalistic. You run your fingers through his salt and pepper locks as you essentially motorboat his face.

“You’re my special girl” He spills in a drawl. “Never gunna let anyone touch you.”

You can’t wait any longer, you sit back down on his bulge, wishing it was freed to split you in half but this will have to do. So, you grind, hunting your orgasm down once again, absorbing, engraining this picture of Joel in your mind forever.

And fuck, the way he talks to you, you’re lost in a trance, chasing after your high as you stare into his face. His eyes, his smile lines, the scar across his bridge, the way he looks down at his lap as he watches you, his jaw going slack. He’s perfect.

“Fuck I can smell you baby girl, your sweet pussy is beggin’ to come all over me” He growls “C’mon give it to me”. You take his permission and allow yourself to play on that teetering edge, right on the cusp of your much awaited orgasm.

“S’ okay baby girl, I got you, I got you”. He slumps back further, eyes trained on your clothed pussy grinding on his hard on with such desperation. He feels his own coming on as you rub against him.

“Not such a brat now huh? Not when I’m taking care of you” he says as his tired eyes scan your figure. You cry out at his words.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, S’ gunna feel better baby, gunna make that ache go away” He drawls out.

“Fuck, fuck” He mumbles, his eyes so hooded, you could have thought they were closed. All color drains from his face as he continues watching your motions. He can see wet, shiny strings appear from your panties, catching onto his boxers before they break apart from sliding back and forth. He can feel how absolutely soaked you are, that spot seeping through the fabric onto his skin underneath.

“That’s it pretty girl, right on daddy’s cock, right there”. His words fall out.

“I’m cum-I’m cumm-Daddy- oh yeah, Joel, Joel!” You scream.

You squeal as your orgasm comes rippling through, your thighs tightening around him as he feels your cunt pool through your panties all over him, your mouth hangs open as you ride out the waves of sensation.

“Jesus Christ”. He groans at the sight of you.

You rest your head against his heaving chest, riding out the stars that clouded your head.

The two of you sit there for a moment, collecting your breaths before he nudges you to the side.

“Wait here” he mumbles, exiting the truck. You watch him through the rear window, straining your eyes to see him in the dark. You think you see him readjusting his crotch again before he leans down, grabbing both sleeping bags and the lantern.

You’re still dizzy from finishing on Joel's lap, your mind trying to comprehend what had just happened. You never thought you’d see the day where Joel would touch you or look at you in any way other than ‘Cargo’.

The breeze from outside whirls into the truck as you sit there waiting for him. He opens the back door, laying down the sleeping bags on top of one another across the bench.

“What’re you doing?” You murmur, cupping the back seat with your hands, watching him with sleepy eyes.

“Don’t want you sleepin' outside tonight” He responds, glancing at your tired gaze.

“C’mon” He waves you over. You scootch over to the driver seat and let your legs dangle out the door. He meets you there, one of his massive hands held out to grab yours, helping you to your feet and pulling you in front of him, guiding you to the back door. You let go of his touch to crawl to your revised sleeping quarters.

You slip in between the two bags, which Joel had unzipped. Laying one down, the other as a blanket on top. He also folded up his jacket as a pillow, which made you smile. You watch him tuck the fabric under your feet, making sure all parts of you are covered. He finds your jeans and your shirt and puts them aside for when you’d dress in the morning. Your sneakers on the ground beside the truck.

You can’t stop the warm glow growing inside you as you watch this man take care of you in such a way that seems so… domestic. It makes you wonder about him pre break out, and what he was like living in a house, working an 8-5 job, making dinners and probably having cold ones in the evening on a patio.

He closes the driver door before returning to you.

“Are you coming to bed?” You whisper with heavy eyes.

“No” he chuckles lightly “M’ wide awake now, gunna keep watch, we really do have a long day tomorrow so get some sleep alright?” He looks at you as one of his arms draped over the heavy truck door, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He looks proud, which you would roll your eyes at, but you’re far too tired.

“Joel” You whisper, bringing his attention back to you as he was looking over his shoulder, scanning the night.

“Mhm?”

“I still wanna repay the favor y’know” you mumble, your eyes closed, already drifting off.

He chuckles again; the sound brings a grin to your face.

“Not necessary, couldn’t stop myself from cumin' while watching you”. He sighs heavily, muttering to himself “like a goddamn teenager”.

You giggle at the comment. Which Joel couldn’t help but grin too, you didn’t see though.

“Goodnight Miller” You barely hear the words yourself as you fall into a deep slumber.

“Night sweetheart”.

#joel miller #tlof #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #reader x joel miller #the last of us #the two of us #daddy joel #pedro pascal #pedro is daddy

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

Note

I loved your Minho x female reader so could I please request another one? So the main idea is Minho teaches the female reader how to fight so she can protect herself if its needed. And ya know there's some liking between those two building up and it includes some spice as well. I trust your writing skills to fill the gaps of this idea ;). Thank you so much

Oooo, I really like this idea, tysm for your request :)).

FIRECRACKER

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMERY: see above. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

WARNINGS: inappropriate language, violence, implied sexual content and spice.

"It's not happening, dude," you groan at Minho's clear reluctancy to listen to you.

The past few months had been rough. Rougher than usual. You were the only girl in the Glade- something you'd come to accept and live with fairly quickly, especially when the next Greenie came up and was male.

But now, every month, another boy came up in the Box, had a meltdown, then tried to flirt with you. It was like clockwork.

And you hated it.

It was like every person who joined the Glade saw you as some kind of trophy. And every single one of them, without fail, would try to hit on you at some point after their arrival. It would be a flex for them to have the only girl hanging off their arm and wanting their attention.

But that wasn't how it worked- and these dumb boys couldn't seem to work that out.

As more and more hormone filled teenagers joined the crowd, you started to grow more anxious. Sure, Alby has put some strict rules in place about respecting your boundaries, but if they decided to break the rules, then the damage would've been done before Alby could stop it.

You knew that the boys wouldn't dare do that, but with some becoming more pushy and their drunken flirting becoming less subtle; you knew you had to do something.

And that something was Minho.

No- not like that.

You wanted him to teach you to fight.

Minho's the best of the best. He always has been, for as long as you'd been there, at least. He's fast, strong, brave and completely and utterly stubborn.

That's the problem. Minho is a busy dude. He's one of the most resilient people in the Glade because of the traumatic shit he deals with on a pretty much daily basis. He wants to help you defend yourself, but he's also one bad thing away from collapsing from exhaustion. Not to mention, he thinks you're kind of hot, which could become a problem.

Kind of.

Not that that's anything new to you.

Minho's not like them- of course, he isn't. He respects your boundaries and treats you like he would any other Glader. Which is why you asked him in the first place.

Apart from Newt and Alby, Minho is grouped in with the few boys here you actually trust. You saw Minho as a leader with one-track-mind and you seriously admire his drive and determination.

You guys aren't exactly close. You're friends with Newt, he's friends with Newt, the Runners are also friends with Newt- damn, Newt's popular. Anyway, because of your friendships entangling with one another, you knew Minho pretty well.

Sure, he's irritating occasionally and talks too much, but he's got a good heart. And right now, that's what you need.

"Minho," you whine, following him towards the stone Doors. You'd managed to catch him before he ventured out into the Maze for the day, something you'd become incredibly good at timing. Much to his dismay. "C'mon, man! You want me to be able to look after myself, don't ya?"

"I'm sure you can manage that without my help- half of these shanks will be buggin' to help you out."

"Yeah, but I don't want them to help me; I want you," Minho stops in his tracks, trying to hide the slight smile playing on his lips and you take this as a hint that he actually might listen to you, "you know I don't trust these slintheads." You pause, rocking on your feet and shoving your hands in your pockets. "And," you drag out the syllable, "you know I'm not gonna leave you alone until you agree."

You're persistent, alright. Something he admires about you. You're going to get what you want, one way or another.

Minho sighs, pinching his brow as rumbling fills the Glade. With you preventing him from following his cue to leave for the day, you flash him an innocent smile. He huffs again.

"Fine."

"Yes!" You exclaim, having a slight premature victory.

"Meet me tonight by the Map room once the Doors close. I got klunk to do and my job comes first. Once I'm done, we'll get started, okay?"

You nod, "Yes, Sir." He rolls his eyes and turns away, jogging towards the Maze.

"Wait, what about dinner?" You shout after him.

"Not my problem!"

So you went about your day, eagerly awaiting for Minho to get back to the Glade. You knew there wasn't much point going after him when he arrived because he still had shit to do. So you wait about fifteen minutes before making your way to the Map room.

The minutes feel like hours as you impatiently bob your foot up and down, leaning against the side of the wooden hut.

After what must've only been ten minutes, Minho emerges, though he does seem slightly shocked to see you.

"You forgot, didn't you?" You sigh and he shakes his head.

"No," he clears his throat, taking his trade-mark stance as he pulls down on his harness, "just don't know why you're so eager to get your ass kicked."

"I'm eager to learn, shuckface, and who says I won't kick your ass?"

"Lotta spark for someone who's begging for my attention."

You shove him. It's playful but still warning. You let Minho get away with a lot more than the other Gladers. Maybe it's because he's easy on the eyes and is too smart for his own good.

You'd never admit it to him, hell, you can barely admit it to yourself, but Minho is pretty. He's the definition of a pretty boy. The dude is stuck on a farm in a Maze full of monsters and he looks like he's broken out of a magazine.

It's unfair.

It's just a dumb surface level attraction, though. You don't know much about Minho apart from what you've seen in a group and what Newt's told you. But the boy is good-looking. Painfully so.

He leads the way, coming to a more open part of the field, but far away enough from the main civilization to not get disturbed.

It starts simple. Minho talks you through some basic self-defence moves. How to block and dodge- something that is basic enough, and you get the hand of pretty fast.

Minho knows you're observant and you learn fast, effortlessly copying him and managing to follow his instructions with little to no problem.

He swings at you, and you step back, letting his fist brush past you. He goes again, and this time, you block it, already feeling the bruises starting to form on your forearms.

"Not bad, Firecracker," you throw a sarcastic grin his way as you try to ignore his wicked grin. It definitely made you feel some type of way- that cocky smirk of his.

He lunges forward again and you go to block, only for him to grab your wrist and spin you around. He steps side-way, spinning himself and yanking you towards his back. He flips you over his back and you hit the floor with a thud.

You groan out, sharp pain lacing your spine as Minho cackles.

"You shucking.. bitch," you grunt, sitting up, your hands flying to your head in an attempt to stop your brain bouncing around your skull.

Minho just continues to chuckle as he kneels in front of you, his hand outstretched and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. "I think that's enough for one day."

"Yeah," you mumble, "it might just be."

"Same time tomorrow?" Minho asks as you dust yourself down, fully back on your feet. You smile at him.

"Sure thing, slinthead. You wanna eat?"

You fell into an unusual routine. Minho would come back from the Maze, you would finish your job, then you'd go meet him and you'd fight for a couple of hours before raiding the kitchen and get shouted at by Frypan.

It was surprisingly fun, and over time, you noticed that you weren't waiting nearly as long for Minho to finish up his job in the Map room.

And you were getting good. Like, actually good. Your simple blocking and dodging had turned into full-out fighting. Minho's faster than you, obviously- he has years of training hanging over your head and can run for miles without even breaking a sweat.

The man has the stamina of a God. And even though you are improving, you doubt you'd ever be able to match him. But you're starting to give him a run for his money.

"That all ya got, Runner boy?" You hold you hands in front of your face, fists loose and guarding, one leg pushed behind you as your gaze holds on his.

It's tense. The competitive spirit only makes it even more so.

"Please," Minho scoffs, "I'm going easy on you." He darts forward and you swerve out of the way as you both make accurate and relentless hits at each other. It's more methodical than aggressive. You block him, he blocks you and it's obvious despite your training that neither of you have any intention of actually hurting one another.

He swings and you manage to avoid it, stepping to the side as he moves back away. In a last second decision, you move your foot behind his. He doesn't react fast enough and it catches, making him stumble backwards.

But not before he grabs you.

In a meaningless attempt for stability, Minho accidentally grabs fist fulls of your shirt, making you yelp and swiftly forcing you down with him.

You both land in a heap on the grassy floor. You're lay on top of him, your legs tangled together as you nearly swallow a mouthful of his shoulder.

Minho's hands fall from your chest as you both let out pained and slightly stunned grunts. Your hands go to the floor as you push yourself up, moving your leg from between his and swinging it over his thigh to make it easier to get up. You freeze when you meet Minho's gaze.

This looks... bad. Minho's face is mere inches away from yours, his breathing heavy, and you realise he moved his hand prior to try and stabilise you from falling further, meaning they're firmly planted on your waist. You also failed to notice that your other leg was already on the other side of him, so now you're basically sat on his crotch- casually straddling him.

You feel your face begin to go red. Minho's hair is dishevelled, a thin layer of sweat sticking to his forehead, and the tight harness acts like a corset in showing his defined chest through his blue, already tight shirt.

This looks like something straight out of a poorly scripted porn scene. What do you even do now? What is the appropriate move to even start thinking about getting out of this situation?

"Are you, uh, you okay?" Minho speaks, thank God, and you collect yourself.

"Uh, yeah, I'm okay- are you?"

"Mhm, yeah, but we should probably, uh-"

"Right, yeah," Yep. It would be a smart move to get off of him as quickly as possible. Not that you go about that in the right way. Minho cautiously takes his hands away from you, like if he moves slowly enough, you'll never notice they were there in the first place.

You sit up straight, so you're no longer hovering over him and in your attempt to get one of your legs up to stand, you accidently shift forward.

Now, in most normal circumstances, this wouldn't be a problem. You're sparing partners- things get physical sometimes. No biggie.

Except Minho is a touch-staved permanently-stressed teenage boy who has more frustrations and problems than a fully grown adult. And the only girl he can even remember meeting has just accidentally ground against his dick.

Not ideal.

His hands fly to your legs, forcing you to completely still. His jaw is tense, and his eyes flutter open. He notices the concern on your face and manages to mumble out:

"Don't do that. Please."

Please.

Since when did Minho ever use his manners? There's a certain rasp in his voice that goes straight to your core and your body feels on fire from embarrassment as you realise what just happened.

"Sorry," you squeak, moving as fast as physically possible to get up. You stumble to the side slightly, catching yourself and not daring to meet the Asian boy eyes.

He sits up, leaning forward as you extend a hand to him to help him up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to- yanno, I-I just-"

"It's fine," he stands without taking your offering, "let's just... just call it a day, yeah?" You give him a rapid and awkward nod. "I'm gonna," he clears his throat, throwing his thumb over his shoulder, "take a shower."

You watch him walk away. There's no way you're about to ask him if he wants to eat after that shit-show.

Minho thought that the cold shower would calm him down. He'd always been respectful; never joining in on the gross jokes or the staring, and he often told other Gladers to shut up or knock it off. The bare minimum, really, and he knew that.

But now, suddenly, that was hard. And that wasn't the only thing.

He understood teenage hormones and sexual frustration, he sure as hell heard enough about it from the assholes he lived with. And it wasn't uncommon for him to experience his own frustrations. But this? This is embarrassing.

You'd barely done anything. You'd been pulled on to him and then, what? Moved slightly? And he's reacting this way? Jesus, he felt pathetic using the cold water hammering against his nape to lower his blood pressure. He's better than this.

You weren't doing much better in all honesty. Except, you're not as good at keeping your mouth shut.

"Please tell me you're joking." Newt sits across from you, his face in his hands and his elbows resting on the table in front of him.

"I didn't mean to!" You whisper-yell between mouthfuls of bread. You'd approached Newt before, face burning, on the verge of tears because you thought you'd just fucked up your blossoming friendship with Minho. Newt's first move was to feed you. You'd calmed down since.

Though it was embarrassing explaining why you were so upset- especially since the whole ordeal was kind of, well, you didn't want to admit it, but it was hot.

"God, he hates me," your hands also go to your face and Newt holds back a laugh, resulting in it coming out as a strained snort. "It's not funny!" You throw a stray piece of bread at him and he swats it away.

"It kinda is, mate," you glare and Newt drops his hands to his lap.

"He looked so uncomfortable! I don't think he's gonna forgive me, man."

"Trust me; he's gonna forgive you," you blankly look at your companion, "look, from what I've heard, the problem probably comes from him, uh... enjoying it."

"But that doesn't-"

"Bloody hell, let me finish!" You immediately silence, your mouth closing like a trap. "But he's a nice dude- probably didn't wanna seem like a perv."

"Whatever," you brush off the thought, not wanting to get into that conversation right now, "I don't think I'll be training for a while."

And you were right.

It'd been radio silence on Minho's end, and you were too awkward to change that. Newt became very much piggy in the middle for the next few days, but he quickly had enough.

You had been moping around because you'd started to actually like Minho. You enjoyed being around him, and you liked seeing the looser, more free version of himself he became when he was teaching you.

Minho had apparently been more snappy too. The Runners were being pushed to their limits this week as Minho became more demanding and frustrated with himself, resulting in pushing it on them.

"Talk to him," you'd been staring into the flames of the fire in the middle of the main area for about fifteen minutes, contemplating that yourself. "Please, for the love of God, just talk to him."

Newt hovers over you, standing behind the log you're sat on. He'd spoken to Frypan about it, who had told him he'd been letting you guys get away with stealing his supplies because it was rare for Minho to be so joyous.

And that's when it clicked for him.

"No."

"Shuck it," the blond lets out a frustrated groan, "if you don't talk to him, I will and that'll be a lot shuckin' worse for ya." You finally look at him, a warning glare. "Yeah, that's what I thought." He grabs your sleeve pulling you to your feet. "Go, now."

"You can't tell me what to do." You shove him off and he rolls his eyes.

"Actually, yeah, I can- it's my job. He's in his hut. Go. Now."

You huff, giving him a 'seriously?' type of look before he jolts his head to the left, silently telling you to move.

You dramatically turn, stomping away and walking in the direction of Minho's place of rest. As you progress, your footsteps become lighter. The nerves start to build up in your stomach and your anger at Newt suddenly seems so small.

You suck in a deep breath, shaking your hands as you glance at the ground. You can see flames dancing in between the cracks of the poorly constructed building, but you can't make anything else out apart from shadows in the candlelight.

You force your fist to hit the oak before you have the chance to take it back. Newt's right; this is dumb. And far too petty considering everything else you have to deal with on a daily basis.

There's no response.

So you knock again.

"Shuckin' hell, give me a damn second-" Minho rips the door open, startling you, and you jump back slightly. "Oh. Hi."

"...Hi."

Minho stands, tall, shirtless, slightly damp and with a towel in his hand as he dries his hair. He's clearly just gotten out of the shower and only bothered to sort himself out once in his room.

Terribly inconvenient for you.

"You good?" He's surprisingly casual, draping the towel around his neck and holding either side, just like how he holds his harness.

"Uh, yeah," you clear your throat and force yourself to look at his face, "I was just wondering if you wanted to keep training me?" Minho raises his eyebrow. Honestly, once he opened the door, your mind went blank.

What exactly were you meant to say to him? 'Just talk to him' is incredibly vague.

"Uh, I thought you didn't wanna do that anymore?"

"I mean, I didn't say that, did I?"

"No, but you haven't shown up at the Map room for a couple of days- I just kinda figured."

"Oh, right..." This was your fault? Of course it was. Minho had assumed you didn't want to after your unexpected interaction and had taken it at face-value. And when you ghosted him, he assumed he was right. "I didn't think-"

"But if you wanna keep training, then I'm down."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, cool," you grin at him, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yeah," you push your lips into a thin line before turning around and walking away.

That wasn't that bad.

Things were going to go back to normal.

Sike. Of course they weren't.

Your fighting sessions picked up easily enough, but now there was something else. Everything went fuzzy when he stood too close, or when he put his hands on you to correct your fighting stance. Which only made you lose focus and become sloppy, which only led to more physical contact.

It was a vicious cycle. Yet, a welcomed one.

People started to notice, too. They caught Minho staring at you more, and the way you'd change your demeanour the second he joined a conversation.

But you didn't want to make things weird again. Well, weirder at least.

That was until Minho decided to teach you to tackle. An odd decision on his part, all things considered, but you agreed nonetheless.

For the most part, it consisted of you barging into him from the side at high speed and almost always resulted in sending you both flying and landing separately, several metres away from one another.

"Come on, you can do better than that," Minho encourages you.

"Dude, everything fuckin' hurts, man," you grumble, composing yourself again.

"Suck it up, sweetheart, you wanted to do this."

You growl at him, teeth bared like an animal. "Fine." You charge towards him with no warning, clashing into him.

It easily knocks him down since he wasn't even trying to stay on his feet, but this time you hook your arm around him.

You both roll, bodies connected and close and after a couple of turns, he lands firmly on top of you. Not wanting a repeat, and wanting to use some previously learnt methods, you react.

You go to kick his legs from beneath him as he kneels to give you the upper hand, but he predicts this, blocking you with his other leg.

You try to shove him instead, but he grabs both of your wrists. It's effortless, smooth and incredibly dominating, holding both your arms against the dirt with one arm.

"Okay," he mutters, mainly to himself, "this is something we definitely have to work on." He's referring to the vulnerable situation you're in- something he's meant to be teaching you to fix.

But you're too distracted. A lot of his body weight is on you, not all of it because he doesn't want to crush you, but enough for you to feel him. His arms bulge out of his shirt and you watch the muscle flex as it holds you firmly in place. Oh God.

You stare at him, completely hypnotised as the setting sun breaks free over the Maze walls and bounces off of his tanned skin, creating a golden effect. His long eyelashes fan as he seems to be examining the position you're in so he can figure out how to tell you to get out of it.

His eyes flicker to your face, and he suddenly tenses. Your slightly parted lips and deep breaths make his brain short-circuit. He's got to get off of you.

He moves to do so, but before he can, his grip on your wrists becomes loose, and you lean in, pressing a kiss against his lips. It's gentle and nervous, completely taking the Runner by surprise.

You pull away when he doesn't reciprocate. You don't know what came over you. You acted completely without thinking, like some kind of instinct captured you.

Your eyes widen- the dizziness of his closeness evaporating.

"Oh my God," you stutter out, your head resting back on the ground, "Minho, I'm so sorry. I didn't think- shuck, I'm sorry!"

"Don't be," his voice is barely above a whisper as he leans back in. Your noses brush against one another as his grip tightens again.

He's testing the water; seeing whether or not that was a dumb mistake you just made or if you accidentally just showed him what you wanted.

He smells almost sweet, a mix of the soap sent up in the Box, his sweat and plants from rolling around in the grass for the past hour. It's intoxicating. He's intoxicating.

You connect your lips to his once again. It's deeper this time, gaining almost an instant response from him. It's still short, though, as he pulls away for a second to look at you.

"Shit," he mumbles into your mouth before you connect for the third time, this time your lips moving against each other, becoming more sloppy and desperate.

Minho is a surprisingly good kisser for someone with so little experience, and you let him take the lead, copying his movements as your mouths mold into one another.

He lets go of your wrists, instead using both arms to stabilise himself, and you take the opportunity to wrap your arms around the back of his neck. Your fingers run through his hair and he shivers at the contact, humming into you.

He, completely instinctively, rolls his hips against yours, causing some much needed friction to the last couple of tense weeks. You whimper quietly, telling him that he's doing something right at least.

Bucking your hips up into his, you feel him harden against you and he brushes his tongue against your bottom lip.

Your tongues meet, slipping into one another's mouths, somehow even closer than before. His hand travels down to your leg, grabbing your thigh and hiking it higher, almost hooking it over his shoulder so he can move more.

It's all getting heated very fast, especially when your hand drops from his shoulders and slips under his shirt, forcing it to expose more skin as you dig your nails into his back. This earns you an almost moan, more of a grunt, but it still sends butterflies through your lower stomach.

"What the shuck?" Someone shouts from a fair distance away, "Jesus! Get a shucking room!"

Minho breaks this kiss, glaring at the Glader before looking at you and grinning, the bright red state of your face bringing him great amusement.

"You know," you start, dragging your finger down his chest, "that isn't such a bad idea."

"What isn't?" He raises his eyebrow slightly. What are you talking about?

"Getting a room," your bashful gaze avoids him, but your blown-out pupils and puffy lips are more than enough to convince him.

Minho doesn't even hesitate to climb off of you, yanking you to your feet with him and throwing you over his shoulder. You shriek, and he barks a laugh as he starts to carry you in the direction of his hut.

"You've done it now, Firecracker.

Woo, another request done. I guess writing for Minho is kinda becoming my thing, huh? Not that I'm complaining.

Let me know what you think and whether you like it, he's definitely a fun character to write for. Requests are still open :))

#🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #🍃 petri tmr #minho maze runner #minho tmr x reader #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #tmr minho #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #the maze runner

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idlesana · 1 year

Text

fairy of shampoo

sana x reader ; fluff

summary: your manager decides you need to teach the new coworker the ways of your job. only issue is the new hire is drop dead gorgeous and almost inevitable to fall for

"so, y/n," your manager started, eyes trailing from you to graze over the neatly stapled packet of papers in front of him. his eyes flicked from separate parts of the first page, before licking his lips-- in more of a focused manner-- and readjusting his gaze.

you'd been confused since you walked in. you were a good worker, maybe even the best here, and hadn't done anything "talk" worthy.

that's why you were shocked to feel a tap on your shoulder by your boss mid serving a table-- talk about embarrassing.

"hey, we need to-"

"ah!"

was your last exclamation before spiling waters all over some new elderly guests.

maybe that was fire worthy and your boss tapping you was just a test of reflexes in the workplace. or not.

your boss seemed to of noticed your haze as you spaced out into thoughts of earlier, a light flush of embarrassment flushing your cheeks for the second time around.

he, or rather, soobin, cleared his throat.

soobin, your boss of however long now. he seemed a bit young to be running the shop, especially for its current size and reputation, but he explains it as his "dad suddenly abandoning all business projects to move to maui with his new fiancé and leaving him to handle everything".

"listen, we have a new worker joining the team." he said, adjusting in his seat to make his posture more prim. he sniffed, clearly looking for more words as he let his eyes space out on his office decor.

you looked at him with a raised brow and squinted eyes, wondering what he was getting at.

you'd never trained a new hire before-- it was always one of the other, more experienced guys. also guys who'd been giving walk throughs of the job to every new hire. it was routine at this point.

"she's,"

there it is. your expression relaxed, slumping back into the stiff office chair across from his desk.

the word 'she' was enough to enlighten you. you were the only other girl who worked dining hall, if that's what this mystery girl was going for, she'd be bombarded by some teen boys who'd never really touched a woman. or even really seen one for that matter.

"she's super pretty, like i asked her if she came from a modeling agency and she laughed at me. and her laugh, so melodious, so congenial-"

"soobin."

"sorry. but you get my point! not even i can stop thinking of her, imagine those 18 or 17 year old dweebs that-"

"soobin."

"sorry. shouldn't have said dweebs, informal. those... degenerates that've never spoke to women. i mean look they drool over you all the time! imagine them trying to teach some lady i thought was a model! and she's flirty too. bad."

"soobin. one, don't say degenerates. as funny and true as it is this isn't exactly workplace vocabulary. two i bet the flintiness was the delusion seeping into your brain and corrupting it with false hearings." you sighed, fingers now pinching the bridge of your nose, unsure of how your boss could be so, so ridiculous sometimes.

"she was flirting! she said i looked good in a suit." soobin 'hmped' clearly taking some offence to these accusations.

"whatever you say. what's her name and when do i need to get started."

"friday, five pm. her name is sana."

"what?!" you almost yelled, at least it felt that way-- you'd only raised your voice a little. "five pm? friday? that's when i make triple the amount of a usual night soobin." you huffed, crossing your arms over your body and tilting your head at him.

on a friday, the typical crowd varied, but the crowd were all big tippers. from elderly couples drowning in money to drunken men trying to find a girl to take home. working as a female server on a day like that was as good as being a celebrity.

"i am your boss, y/n."

"ugh, not this."

"and you will listen."

you were sat at a table, acrylics tapping hastily on your phone in order to match soobin's load of texts. you let out a small scoff, eyes rolling at his adoration toward the new girl, and his very obvious crush.

minatozaki sana-- the new hire, the statuesque beauty that had your boss on edge. you hadn't seen her yet, but despite your annoyed behavior you were presenting, you were eager. not only because there was a new girl and all the stares would disperse to her, but also to maybe have some eye candy at work. you called it inspiration-- and wouldn't let it become anything more.

you sighed again, now ignoring soobin's rush of anxious messages and opting to scroll instagram, liking few posts here and there. sort of relaxed minus the hustle of workers and customers around you. but not all peace lasts forever.

"hey!"

you jumped a little, only mildly startled by the honey sweet voice. you looked up, cheeks flushed, only to meet the eyes of an angel. soobin was not wrong.

sana was in baggy jeans, high rise, and not too big, just right. a pair of boots, even from the distance you could read the small prada logo on them. her shirt was fitted, again, not too tight but not too loose, and it had some cute logo on the front. overtop was a racer jacket, matching the color of the logo on her white shirt. it was oversized and looked so warm-- you started to feel jealous at your lack of jacket. her hair was dark and wavy, perfectly framing her face, and her perfectly carved jaw, and her warm eyes you couldn't pull away from, and those full lips that-

"are you alright?"

that voice, ugh, it wasn't fair. it was warm and partially low, much to your demise.

"uh- sorry! yes, sorry." you faltered, voice shaking and body turning into a 90 degree bow. you heard sana begin to laugh, only making your face hotter. it was just as melodious as soobin explained.

"don't be. you're cute. i'm sana." she chimed. you'd swore you'd start sweating at this point, face hot and definerly red.

"s-sana! i'm y/n. i'll be showing you around i suppose." you stuttered, mentally slapping yourself. you needed to get ahold of yourself before all hope is lost with sana, but god would it be hard when she looked and talked how she did.

"pretty name, suits you. let's go?" she smiled, turning her head slightly to motion behind her.

"yeah.."

this walk through would be the way you died.

you'd mentally decided your own fate only half way through the walk through. with sana's random and most definetly not work place friendly flirtatious quips and the 'subtle' touches she'd leave on your skin-- you were positive you were done for.

"so, is that all?" sana smiled, snapping you away from your thoughts. the smile on her face was enough to put you to your knees, having to use all the strenght you had to stand upright.

"uh, yeah! you start monday i think, and i'll be working the same hours as you, just in case you need help." you smiled back, positive there was a pink tint to your cheeks.

"perfect. you know you're-"

"sana! i see y/n has showed you around."

soobin.

you could hear the way he was making his voice more stable, and even a little deeper. he wore his most expensive suit, one you'd recongnized from when he made you join him to shop for date attire. dior pocket square adding the smallest detail. a grin was adorning his face, subtle and clearly having flirtatious intent. sana turned from you hesitantly, only before throwing a warm smile on her face.

"oh, hello soobin. good to see you." sana winked, which in any other scenario, would make you melt and would burn your cheeks up. but the only thing hot now was your blood as you clenched your teeth together, forcing a tight lipped smile onto your face.

you were beyond jealous.

"you look as gorgeous as before! still such a model." soobin flirted, words rolling off his tongue smoothly, and causing sana to let out that heavenly giggle.

"and you still look good in a suit, i see." sana responded, hand reaching out for his forearm. you felt your heart nearly sink.

"uhm, i got to go." you coughed, not really wanting to interrupt, but wanting to leave asap.

"what?" sana muttered, watching as you scrambled to put your items into your purse.

"i-uh." you started, eyes trying not to meet hers. "i just am feeling, tired." you lied, standing up straight and bowing to both sana and soobin. you quickly turned on your heel, hearing your shoe squeak on the floor.

"wait!"

you felt a hand hit yours, enveloping it in a sudden warmth, contrasting to the cold weather. it locked perfectly with yours, and the skin was so soft against you. you turned around, eyes meeting sana's at a closer distance that you'd been expecting. you had almost let out a sound at the small gap between the two of you.

"i want you to take my jacket, it's freezing." sana beamed, holding her leather racing jacket in her free hand. you were still focused on the distance and how sana's hand hadn't left yours.

"you don't have to." you muttered, eyes shaking as they met hers. you'd sworn her look was of adoration-- but you brushed that off as overthinking.

"i do. to thank you. please take it." she nudged the jacket into your chest to accentuate her point further.

"i, okay." you said, unable to resist sana's hopeful expression. you started throwing the jacket over your arms, noticing the sweet smell that infiltrated you nose, and the warmth the jacket had provided you.

"should be helpful since i walked here."

"what!?!?"

and that's how you ended up in sana's car, that honeyed and husky voice humming along to whatever song came on-- even singing some lyrics.

"thank you sana, you didn't have to." you hummed, turning to look at her as she drove. her side profile was flawless, as if she had jumped out from an illustration.

"i did! you showed me around today. plus, i'd never let someone as gorgeous as you walk home at this hour." she smiled as she said those words, almost knowing you were staring. your face heated up for what felt like the nth time today. however, you couldn't shy away from looking at her.

the car came to a stop, a new red light illuminating her face.

"if you think i'm that pretty just ask me out, you could look at me much longer." sana grinned, turning to meet your now burning face.

"i-i'm so sorry! i didn't want to make you uncomfortable." you murmered, turning away and looking down at your hands in your lap.

"hey," sana started, reaching to grab one of your hands over your thigh as she kept driving, "it's okay."

what wasn't okay was whatever was happening right now. not that you didn't want it to happen, but god were you going to melt away right into the seats of her sports car.

you couldn't respond, to worried about your voice giving out. this left the both of you to drive in silence, other than sana humming to some new song.

monday came faster then expected.

you went from worrying about sana in your bed all weekend, unable to shake the thought of her. her and her soft hands, and welcoming perfume and perfect lips.

now, you were at work, trying your darndest to ignore sana until the end of your shift. whether it be pretending to be extra busy, or holding more eventful conversation with customers.

which, shockingly, worked.

but of course,

"hey! let me drive you home y/nnie." sana called to you, watching you slip on your normal sneakers you'd worn before changing into uniform.

today sana's outfit was more laid back, just some grey baggy sweats and an oversized black hoodie. she still managed to look like a runway model in her cozy clothes.

"you don't have to, sana." you smiled back, trying your hardest to resist her charms. you stood upright, watching as she walked over to you, reaching out that glorious hand to yours.

"come on. i want to talk to you."

back in sana's flashy white sports car. you found yourself wondering where sana got all this money as you watched streetlights and corner stores pass your vision.

there was a lack of sana's humming, and no song on the radio at all. the silence was comforting and sweet, but you sensed sana's thoughts the whole car ride. feeling her eyes on you at any stop light. similar to what you did her the first car ride.

what else was different, was the car being parked at an unfamiliar location. obviously not the lobby to your apartment building that you'd entered time and time again.

you looked around, rubbing your eyes and letting out a small groan as you stretched. you found yourself almost in awe, admiring the coolly lit lamps and the blossoming trees, small white flowers falling to the floor with each gust of wind.

you turned to sana, who for once, looked nervous. light pink tint on her cheeks and a bashful smile on her lips. you couldn't help but smile back.

"what's this?" you asked, tilting your head at her.

"the trees are blossoming this season, i figured you'd like to see. let's go walk? there's some benches down this way." sana said, voice hopeful and cheery, yet still managing to fluster you.

"i'd really love to sana, but i don't have a jacket and it's a little cold, no?" you frowned, not wanting to upset her any. especially not after the thoughtful surprise.

sana's smile didn't falter, she only unbuckled her seatbelt, letting out a quiet 'hold on', before reaching behind her seat, retrieving a white hoodie. you couldn't help but coo at her thoughtfulness, letting your fingers sink into the fabric as you took it from her, putting over your own body.

immediately, the same sweet scent from her jacket the first time you saw her wafted into your nose, filling your senses and warming your body up.

"let's go?"

sana and you had been hand in hand since leaving her car.

her hands were soft, actually, soft was an understatement. they were near perfect, fitting yours perfectly, size a little larger, acrylics at the ends of her fingertips that were neat and new. her hand provided another warmth like you'd never felt before, less of a physical warmth and more of a comforting, mental warmth. one that made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn with color. an effect sana seemed to always have on you.

"here's good." she mumbled, nodding her head toward a bench sat under a lamppost and trees surrounding.

as the two of you sat, you took note of sana's fidgety, nervous state. you'd only seen her a couple of times, but you knew of her typical confident demeanor.

as you sat, sana's eyes locked with yours, reflecting a more timid and sheepish emotion, not the usual flirtatious one.

"so, y/n," sana started, eyes pulling away from yours to try and focus on the trees and not the overwhelming weight on her heart. her nerves were getting to her, it was obvious, from the shaky eyes to the bouncing of her leg.

you took note of this, putting a reassuring hand on her previously bouncing knee, looking at her with a concerned and welcoming expression.

her eyes met yours once again, face less stiff and more comfortable. rosy flush on her cheeks and warm smile illuminating her face.

"so, i know we only have known each other for like, a day, or whatever," she contiuned, reaching for your hand on her knee to hold, body turning to face you with regained confidence.

"but, i really like you, a lot. and i'm sorry if it's creepy or if you don't even like girls but, there is just something about you. like, you're so gorgeous and even the way you put your hand on my knee to reassure me and the way you talk with that flawless voice. it's all a lot for me, not in a bad way, just a wow kinda way, if that makes sense. i can't sit back and watch our coworkers drool over you knowing we have equal chance, i just want to know you're mine. sorry thats creepy and-"

you cut her off by pressing your lips against hers. she tasted like strawberry chapstick and everything sweet and her lips were just as pillowy against yours as you'd imagined the first day you saw her. she hummed into the kiss, moving her hand up to your jaw to better lean into the touch, your hands moving to tangle in her hair, the both of you pulling each other flush to one another. before letting anything get too far, you made the move to pull away, to both of yours dismay. but you couldn't stop thinking of how late it was getting and also how hard it was starting to get to breath. she let out a groan, one of more annoyance then anything, before looking into your eyes with a familiar smirk on her lips.

"i like you too, sana. a lot" you responded, head turning away as you tried hiding your reddened cheeks.

"i can tell." she grinned, teasing tone lacing her words.

"hey!"

the two of you started walking back, hand in hand once again, laughing about some random topics, before sana's phone went off.

"who is it?" you asked, quirking a brow, genuinely curious as to who it could be.

"ah, our boss, soobin." she sighed, putting her phone back in her pocket.

your eyes immediately widened and jaw slightly dropped. uh oh.

#sana x reader #sana scenarios #sana imagine #minatozaki sana #sana imagines #twice sana #twice imagines #twice x reader #twice reactions #twice imagine #twice #sana reactions #sana drabble

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k0r3s-smu1 · 6 months

Text

𝐌𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭

A = affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I believe he’s more into quality time than physical affection.

He often takes you out to beautiful locations to go cloud watching, or star-gazing if its night.

He holds your hand occasionally, and gives you forehead kisses <33

When he has free time, he likes to have picnics with you and nap together.

He doesn’t really communicate how much he loves you, but you can see it by the way he looks at you.

B = Best Friend (what would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Being his best friend is actually quite nice.

Its a calm friendship, you two don’t talk too much but you enjoy each other's presence.

You train together, go on missions together, nap together, muichiro trusts and cares about you a whole lot; so he prefers to be by your side as much as he can.

He does tease you as well, and enjoys when you get angry and talk back.

You must’ve approached him to become his friend, otherwise he wouldn’t have talked to you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves to be close with you, so of course he would be happy to do something as intimate as cuddling. He falls asleep quite easily with his arms wrapped firmly around you, his face snuggled into your chest or neck. Or laying on your lap, a certain calmness always comes over him. He feels secure pressed up against you, and he knows you're safe.

He doesn’t exactly seek it out, but if he’s really missing your touch, then he might initiate it.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He does look forward to the day he can settle down with you and live a normal life. But until Muzan is still alive and demons still walk this earth, that won’t happen until he has to retire.

He’s decent at cleaning, and its quite relaxing for him. But he’s not too good at cooking.

He’ll try though, and it’s very enjoyable for him when you’re there, guiding him or preparing food beside him.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It would be a simple “Let’s break up”. If you questioned him, he would give a straightforward explanation about this decision. Then leave. Either that, or he would leave a note in your estate and stop visiting. You’d have to seek him out for further questioning. Either way, Tanjiro most likely noticed how down you were and after learning what happened, convinced muichiro to come back.

Now, Mui elaborates on his explanation in a more heartfelt way, making clear he loved and cherished you, and that this is for the best. He bids you farewell, and this second explanation definitely gave you more closure then the first.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Truthfully, he doesn’t think about it a lot. He loves you dearly but he’s also fine staying with the

“partner” or “boyfriend” title. Marriage isn’t that special to him. If he does choose to marry you though, it wouldn’t be quickly- probably a good couple of years later. (Unless you initiate it, of course) He is a bit worried about commitment, but being a capable demon slayer definitely helps.

It would really suck if he started dating a regular girl only for her to die one random night because some low level demon came crawling into her house 💀

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He can be a little dense sometimes and say offensive things unintentionally, and he might have a hard time understanding why you’re mad because of something he said.

To him, he’s just being honest… but please don’t get too disheartened at him, he’s trying :(

You’re probably his first relationship, he’s new & might be a bit clumsy.

But he’s otherwise pretty gentle with you in both aspects. He knows he’s strong and doesn’t want to run the risk of hurting you in any kind of way.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yes, he does enjoy hugs! Well, specifically from you. Just like cuddling, he doesn’t really initiate it. But he’s more than happy to if you wanna. His hugs are light and warm, and being so close you can catch his scent- almost non existent, but it's there- Like clean laundry and mint.

I = I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Not very fast. A few months into dating, maybe on a summer night, watching the stars.

I can see it being kind of random- It’s silent, and he’s just looking at you lovingly. And the words came, seemingly out of nowhere, so soft and sincere. Definitely caught you off guard. He’s always being honest, and it just felt right to him to say it at that moment. From there, he doesn’t say it a lot, but you know he loves you, and he knows you know.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

He probably doesn’t even understand what he’s feeling when it first comes up.

All he knows is that he doesn’t like what’s happening. The presence of the other man is irritating,

And he’ll just drag you away from him; it’s not like that guy’s worth your time anyway.

I don’t think it’s exactly easy to make him jealous, but it’s not hard either… I'd say it's in the middle.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Gentle and loving, his kisses make you feel all warm inside. It’s short but meaningful.

He likes to be kissed on the cheek, and he likes to kiss your forehead.

But on romantic occasions, your lips are the best place for him.

L = Little Ones (How are they around children, how do they feel about having kids, etc)

I mean, we saw how he treated Kotetsu- I don’t think he’s particularly nicer around them.

Maybe gentler, but otherwise the same. Nor do I think he really cares about having them.

They’re a bit annoying, and a responsibility I don’t think he’d be the best at.

He’d rather grow old giving his undivided love and attention to you.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Aaaah, it's so sweet! He’s all dozy and cute, and this is the time he gets most cuddly.

He has work to be done, but it’s so tempting to just stay snuggled in bed with you.

He stays sleepy for a while even after getting up, and kind of clingy.

He might rest his head on your shoulder while you cook, still drowsy.

He’s extra forgetful during this time.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Basically the same as the mornings! He’s softer, more cuddly and affectionate.

Definitely looks forward to sleeping with you, or having a relaxing drink of tea with you to

settle down before going to bed.

Prefers to spoon you then the other way around, though he also likes laying on your chest

And listening to your heartbeat. (he thinks your boobs are comfy.)

He falls asleep relatively quickly, but awakens easily if you move. Not that you can…he won't let you go.

Part 2

#muichiro tokito #muichiro fluff #muichiro x reader #muichiro x reader fluff #sfw muichiro #muichiro sfw alphabet #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny fluff #demon slayer fluff

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liannelara-dracula · 1 year

Note

Can I get the mukami's for this prompt?

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 What their family is like, like the household and number of kids.

Hi love,

Good question, sorry it took so long and that some are short but I did my best. Hope you like it. :)

Mukami Boys Family + Household hcs

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Prompt

Requests are open

Rules

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Ruki:

Family + Background:

Ruki wasn't focused on marrying, he just wants to spend his life with you and you wanted the same.

You two were unsure of what that had in store for you.

So you weren't even thinking about marriage or having kids.

Your main focus was just being together.

The marriage just came along the way because Ruki loves you and thought the time was right. Although he honestly feels like he's already married to you.

Number of kids:

Two! A boy and a girl.

You had your kids before you were married.

This is mostly because he can never keep his hands off you and you have a hard time saying no, you eventually had a baby.

You started off as a family of three and lived in the Mukami mansion because you too were just starting out.

The both of you were trying to figure things out so Ruki figured it was best to just stay at the mansion at first.

Plus, there was plenty of room.

And his brothers don't really mind, they are actually excited.

Especially Kou, he can't wait to babysit and help with baby showers or whatever.

Of course your pregnancy was an adventure for you both because you were clueless about caring a supernatural baby and so was he.

And being parents wasn't something you to were planning or expecting.

You both wanted to stick to the lover phase for a while but things happened so fast and you to did like the idea of baby.

It's also cause Ruki is old-fashioned, I highly doubt he'd let you get rid of it. Whatever the case you don't want to.

In terms of giving birth Ruki would just take you to the hospital

Your first child was definitely a boy and looked exactly like Ruki.

When you had this little one it took some time of getting used to and you eventually worked out who would do what.

Ruki is pretty involved as a parent as are you and he does a fair amount for you and the your first kid.

He will get up for you at night if you are too tired.

Made sure you had a nursery for your firstborn.

And he was pretty attentive to what you needed.

He was honestly great about everything.

And the best part had to be when he'd interact with his mini-self.

As you too were getting comfortable with the new baby, within a year or two there was baby two.

Which was a girl!

And Ruki really grew to have a soft spot here. I mean this was a mini you, even though she had his eyes.

His daughter is someone he cannot say no to.

He finds her so cute, he just can't tell her no.

Ruki tends to worry about her a lot so he's a bit over protective.

But he also worries about his son equally.

He loves both of his kids and after being with you long enough and seeing the family he had created he thought it was now a good time to propose to you. (Let me be clear you where a young adult when he met you so that's why you weren't marrying and the relationship was one of many years).

It was cute though because he asked his kids first if he should marry you.

"What do you guys think? Should daddy marry mommy?" He'd grin seeing his kids get excited.

"YEAH!" They'd cheer.

Household:

He cooks, you don't, because he doesn't think you're good enough.

The kids even think that Dad is a better cook.

There isn't too much difference in your role as a parent, you too typically share an equal amount of the work.

He might be the one to teach them academically.

I think he is also a bit better at being strict than you.

Its something about his tone that gets his kids to listen if they're not listening to you.

Kou:

Family + Background

You two got married and you were expecting and he thought it would be nice to have two surprises in one.

He wouldn't stay with his brothers.

After all he is an idol so he would just move out into another house.

This way you two have the place to yourself and you two even have a little bit more privacy.

Of course, it is hard to do with his idol life but you both manage.

if you want me to be really honest I don't see that he'd ever have kids.

Household

You are the one who stays at home considering that he works.

So you usually take care of things.

And the kids

But he appreciates it and when he can stay home he makes sure to spend time with everyone.

He plays with his kids a lot.

Especially when you want to get things done around the house.

I swear he is too lazy to clean and leaves that to you.

But you then leave him to watch the kids for when you go out.

He is usually the one who incorporates fun time for his kids.

He is known to be the more “fun” parent.

Mostly cause he says yes to like everything they ask.

Number of Kids

Two twin boys

He got more than he could ask for.

Sometimes wonders what it would be like if he had girls.

He is also training them to be idols.

It's mostly for fun, so they are his studio a lot.

He sometimes gets inspo from them.

And he dresses them on to.

They surprisingly don’t look like him, they resemble you but they have his social personality.

Yuma:

Family

You’re known as the big family.

He married you before starting a family though.

And even though having kids was on his list.

I don’t think he was planning on having them right away but it sorta ended up being that way.

When you two first got married you stayed at the mansion because you were still working things out.

And his brothers didn’t mind it.

They actually like having you two around.

Seeing Yuma smile is also rare for them too so they are glad you're around.

Although privacy can sometimes be an issue for Yuma.

Especially when arguing, although his brothers don't mind it too much.

In fact, Ruki finds it amusing hearing you two argue.

It's mostly because you and Yuma argue over silly things so it can be funny.

But not to you two.

Household

You and Yuma both stay at home for the most part.

He spends most of his time in the garden.

And his brothers play as babysitters.

There is also a lot of noise and movement thanks to the kids.

And he is also involved in that.

Number of Kids

A lot, honestly it’s over ten.

This man makes you have too many babies.

If you thought you didn’t have it in you, you thought wrong.

So it’s probably 14 kids and probably one by one

So you were pregnant every year practically.

All of them were boys except the last one.

He had one little girl who looked exactly like him.

And most of the boys are mixes of you two.

Although your first looks like him too.

The kids climb all over him.

He yells at the boys if they run around in the garden.

Like he’s strict about that.

Although he carries his little girl when he’s in the garden.

He prefers it’s just her since she stays put in his arms and doesn’t complain. She just watches him but if a bug lands on her she’d probably start to cry.

It’s cause she’s still a baby

Although with his boys he’s good at playing with them and chasing them on the field.

He gets too rambunctious with them you end up scolding him.

He's pretty easy going but sometimes the kids scream too much and don't listen so he sometimes gets serious and then they stop.

Azusa:

Family

The quiet but sweet family.

You two were together for a while and when he proposed to you, you were also pregnant.

So it was two surprises wrapped up in one.

he was really excited.

And he was more than ready to start a family.

He probably lives with his bros but eventually wanted to move out and so he got a place for the both of you.

Household

He does everything for you. Or whatever you need and vice versa.

He stays at home with the kids if you want too.

Azusa is happy to be at home with you and whatever you to do, you do together.

Whether it's cleaning, cooking, baking, watching tv, etc.

Although with one kid he finds the place empty and would like some more.

Number of Kids

Three, two boys and a girl.

They are all quiet and soft-spoken like him.

But they are all very sweet.

Except for when the screaming starts

Azusa usually gets them to settle down.

He reads them bedtime stories and he tucks them in.

He also plays with them a lot.

but overall you are a happy bunch.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˗ˏˋ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ˎˊ˗ ©𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔~Present

#diabolik lovers #anime #diabolik lovers headcanons #anime headcanons #dialovers #diahell #diabolik lovers ruki #mukami yuma #diabolik lovers yuma #yuma mukami #mukami ruki #kou mukami #diabolik lovers kou #mukami kou #diabolik lovers azusa #mukami azusa #azusa mukami #dl hcs

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coyotevallie · 5 months

Text

ok my dndads queer hc post randomly gets notes but i disagree w many of the takes now so im updating it . spoiler warning theres a WHOLE lot of lezzies . just doing the dads kiddads and teens HOWEVER i will say that mark likely is for sure a lezzer

darryl: bisexual and probably the most cisgender one here but he's actually SO cis that it becomes almost gnc . he/him

ron: transhet guy but he thinks his transition is like very unique to him and everyone else is doing it the exact same as each other so he doesnt really get that hes Transgender bc he thinks everyone else is doing it in a really different way than him all together . not in an angsty way hes perfectly okay w that . he/him

henry: trans bi guy we know this to be true . he/him but if you called him they/them prns he would be like well yknow ive never thought about that before but you know what go right ahead (: he doesnt exactly enjoy it but he appreciates just how gosh-darn nonbinary positive you are that he'd still encourage it

glenn: bisexual and like .... hes cis he doesnt really care abt gender much but when nick came out as trans he definitely said something about like . "dude if i was trans? id totally use they/them pronouns thats sick as fuck" and then moved on and this sort of haunted nick for a while . he/him but again he doesnt really care

jodie: cis and bisexual but in such a boring way that he might as well be straight

sparrow: tgirl lesbian who was out at one point but is not now for Normalcy Reasons . she/her in theory

lark: transneu nonbinary and aroace . not out about either of these things but not really as a like Actively Closeted thing they just dont really think abt it . they/he in theory

terry jr: tgirl lesbian also but this time out AND butch . she/he

grant: gay of course . and like .... he is cis and this wont change but he'd be a good deal happier if he was more gnc i think

nick: tguy butch lesbian . he mostly but he doesnt really care that much

link: kinda-stealth tboy (not really intentionally or anything he just doesnt really see it as relevant that often so most people dk) and gay . he/him but he doesnt really care that much

taylor: honestly idk what i think is going on w his gender but i DO know hes aro and bi . give me some time to think on that ok

scary: out nonbinary tfem lesbian!!!!! we know this!!!!!! she/it and when she writes her pronouns down she always writes the it in VERY BIG AGGRESSIVE HANDWRITING to make it clear that its SUBVERSIVE AND WEIRD

normal: bisexual tgirl . currently in a like . Questioning Phase in s2 i feel like ..... her turmoil abt being a Normal Son is tied to that . any pronouns but she primarily

hermie: bigender (girl + boy) gaybian :3 was an open bisexual tguy originally but around the poison ivy era had some Gender Complexity . he/she but certain Method Personas have diff pronoun leans whereas normal herm is pretty 50/50

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pleasetiemyshoelaces · 1 month

Note

I have a question is ok for my stepdad to have “the talk” with me

So basically I was talking to my stepdad I was venting to him about my mom. I mentioned that my mom hadn’t really taught me anything like about boys or sex or sexual responsibility. So my stepdad explained some of it to me like protection, how to not get pregnant, how to not get an STD, birth control, how to say no without getting hurt, that I don’t have to even if I’m dating someone and do it with someone I’m comfortable with.

For context my mother has never had these types of talks with me. She’s mostly just said that “boys will like me because I’m pretty with a nice body”. She’s never taught me what to do in a situation if I wanna have sex and being responsible. Or if I don’t wanna have sex and how not to get hurt. My mom also said she had no problem with me having sex at 14 cuz she did. She’s also never really talked to me when I came to her about feeling uncomfortable in certain situations. Like when I was 11 a teenager made a sexual pass at me and I told my I was uncomfortable. But she just said I liked the comment and didn’t comfort or talked to me at all.

And my father basically just sees me as a little girl when I’m 16. He treats me like I don’t understand certain things. Like he even banned me from watching family guy because it talked about sex. When I was 15 years old and already knew what sex was. I understand some dads don’t wanna have this kinda talk. But my dad basically acts like I’m still in elementary school.

So I just wanna know if it’s ok for my stepdad to fill in those blanks without being seen as a creep

i mean hes your step dad

hes doing what a dad would do

from what you've said it sounds like he did exactly what your health teacher in school would tell you. "the talk" is NEVER a comfortable one to have, for parent or child. But it sounds like your step dad handled it with all the care and clinical nature required for this kind of convo.

but most importantly, how do you feel about the interaction? did he make you uncomfortable? or did you come away from the talk with information you were looking for?

its always an awkward convo, but if nobody is willing to explain it in plain simple terms then how are you supposed to avoid the people who want to take advantage of your ignorance?

avoiding talking to kids plainly about sex is what drives them to find out sooner rather than later anyway, its the mysteriousness of it all for most kids that drive them to explore past what they probably would have had someone just been clear with them

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cleolinda · 1 year

Text

Varney the Vampire - chapter 3

Chapter 2: Varney cannot get over a wall.

Chapter 3: Originally posted on Livejournal, December 7, 2010, in the same post as chapters 1-2. The recap was short, so I've expanded it. Content note: blood.

CHAPTER III.

THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE BODY. -- FLORA'S RECOVERY AND MADNESS. -- THE OFFER OF ASSISTANCE FROM SIR FRANCIS VARNEY.

Given that this serial is titled, you know, Varney the Vampire, I got to this header back in 2010 and blurted out, "O rly?," because that's how we talked back then. No, I did.

(There is no actual offer of assistance from Sir Francis Varney in this chapter. Ya rly.)

Previously on:

Henry had the weapon, and he pointed it full at the tall form with steady aim. He pulled the trigger -- the explosion followed, and that the bullet did its office there could be no manner of doubt, for the figure gave a howling shriek, and fell headlong from the wall on the outside.

Currently: GET HIS ASS

This was at once agreed to, and the whole three of them made what expedition they could towards a gate which let into a paddock, across which they hurried, and soon found themselves clear of the garden wall, so that they could make way towards where they fully expected to find the body of him who had worn so unearthly an aspect, but who it would be an excessive relief to find was human.

sloooow cab, meter runnin'

Three hundred words later, the men go around the wall, examine the heathy (yes, heathy) vegetation and find... no vampyre. Three hundred and fifty words after that, it finally occurs to them to go back and see if Flora is, you know, dead or whatever.

"My senses," said Henry, "were all so much absorbed in gazing at that horrible form, that I never once looked towards her further than to see that she was, to appearance, dead. God help her! poor -- poor, beautiful Flora. This is, indeed, a sad, sad fate for you to come to. Flora -- Flora -- "

I am pretty sure that if the printer had let James Malcolm Rymer just have a ten-page lightswitch rave—doop doop doop. Flora. Flora. The Flora. Is down—he would have done it.

I summarized the family for you earlier, but I think this is actually the first time we hear that Marchdale is "Robert Marchdale, you whom I [Flora's mother] have known even from my childhood," and who will surely not deceive her. I don't think they've told us... why, exactly... he's living here, in 1840s terms of respectability. (I think I was more suspicious of this back in 2010 than I actually am now. Sometimes a family is a mother, her children, a man, and his crowbar.) Anyway, everyone is just letting Flora bleed out at their leisure (content note: here comes the blood):

The mother approached the bed-side of the insensible, perhaps murdered girl; she saw her, to all appearance, weltering in blood, and, overcome by her emotions, she fainted on the floor of the room. [...] She was quite insensible, and her face was fearfully pale; while that she breathed at all could be but very faintly seen. On some of her clothing, about the neck, were spots of blood, and she looked more like one who had suffered some long and grievous illness, than a young girl in the prime of life and in the most robust health, as she had been on the day previous to the strange scene we have recorded. [...] “A wound!" said the mother, and she brought a light close to the bed, where all saw on the side of Flora's neck a small punctured wound; or, rather two, for there was one a little distance from the other. "How came these wounds?" said Henry. "I do not know," [Flora] replied. "I feel very faint and weak, as if I had almost bled to death."

Please notice all the blood, and also the puncture wounds, from which the blood endeavors to pour, and which are consistent with those made by vampire fangs (a concept that this serial, after all, introduced). This is going to be important later, if you want to understand why I got halfway through Volume Two and suddenly melted down in unbelieving rage that this godforsaken book would try to fucking gaslight me as to whether any of this happened or not.

The Bannerworth family revives Flora with wine, because, when in doubt: booze. And then, while Flora is wailing and trembling and fainting, the family all looks over at the spooky portrait in her room (whose idea was that, anyway?) and realizes that... it looks just like the vampyre. Of course it does. But it's the ancestral portrait of Sir Runnagate (oh, why not) Bannerworth, "who first, by his vices, gave the great blow to the family prosperity."

(You know, I said "why not" when I wrote that years ago, but no, I want to know why! Why the fuck is a 1700s dude named RUNNAGATE? So I go google it, and I get this:

Corruption of renegade, influenced by run + agate (“on the way, agoing”).

1. A deserter, renegade or apostate. 2. A fugitive; a runaway.

I'm gonna hope this was a sobriquet their ancestor picked up from some salty descendants after he blew the family fortune, because otherwise, this is a real "dead dove: I don't know what I expected" situation.)

Henry then tells us that the spooky portrait is ninety years old, which I thought was Rymer trying to tell us that Sir Runnagate is actually Varney, and that's (at least) how long he's been around. Hell, maybe that's what he is trying to tell us right now; the storylines of serials tend to drift all over the place, and writers either forget what they started out saying, or they decide to contradict themselves and hope no one notices. But I get ahead of myself.

To finish the chapter: Henry, having promised Flora that he won't leave, camps out at her bedside with Marchdale's crowbar reloaded pistols—which I mention because it reminds me a lot of the men watching over Lucy in Dracula. Or reverse-reminds me, since Varney predates Dracula by fifty years. My point is, here's another Literary Vampire Tradition Moment: the maiden abed, and her protectors' vigil. Which is worth noting, because there are a number of moments that feel like something you've seen a hundred times, and then there are vast, oceanic swathes of wackery. As I said back in 2010, I had read half the entire serial by that point, and the opening chapter was the first and only episode of vampiring I had seen in some 300,000 words. BE STRONG, WE CAN DO THIS.

(Chapter 4, sparkle willing, will go up on Tuesday, March 21.)

#the chapter with all the blood #varney the vampire #gifs #flashing gif warning #vampires #recaps #welcome to hell it's my blog #long post #blood cw #vampire studies

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secondtechnicianrimmer · 3 months

Text

Space Corp. Directive #1215225

For some ungodly reason, you fancy the second technician, but you’d be damned if you ever admitted it.

Pairing: Arnold Rimmer x (F) Reader

Warnings: Mentions of smut

Chapter Two: F, M, K

It all started when you found a photo of a beautiful woman between the pages of one of Lister’s books.

It wasn’t exactly unexpected, half the ship looked like it had been decorated by teenage boys living away from home for the first time. There were posters of cars and girls and guitars up in the sleeping quarters; Lister’s fresh-out-of-the-wash underwear hung like bunting through the corridors; and despite the endless technological advances stowed in the kitchen (including a food replicator and a pretty snazzy dishwasher) there were always towers and towers of dirty plates and mugs, like the financial district of a large city.

Seven months you’d been aboard Red Dwarf. Seven months and fifteen days. The ship felt like home now but, sometimes, you still felt like a guest, like the new girl. It also meant you’d long since run out of entertainment. You’d exhausted both the library and the cinema, and trying to get the others to participate in a group activity always felt like you were begging older siblings to play with you on a rainy Saturday in April.

All this culminated in you scraping the very bottom of an incredibly cavernous barrel. You asked Lister if you could borrow one of his books.

“Try this,” he said, pushing a brightly coloured wodge of pages into your hands. “It’s a Cat book. It’ll teach you how to speak Cat. You were Xenolinguistics, right? You’ll like this.”

You peered at the book, flipping through the pages with thinly-veiled scepticism.

“This is a new low for you, Dave. Not only are there pictures, there are only pictures.”

“Aw, c’mon man,” Lister rolled his eyes. “You have to smell it.”

“Dave,” you said seriously. “What did you do to this book?”

“I’m serious! It’s how they learn! If you don’t believe me, ask Cat.”

Still glaring at Lister, you raised the book to your nose and took a tentative sniff.

“I still think you’re pulling my leg.”

“It takes practice. You’ll get it.”

You huffed and shook your head. It had been a long time since anyone had said something like that to you.

Languages came as easily to you as breathing, you just had the right brain for it, and it had gotten you onto a starship. What happened to that starship and its crew, you tried not to think about too much.

Your expertise hadn’t exactly come in useful since the Red Dwarf boys found you. Kryten spoke more languages than you’d had hot dinners, but it was still fun to study them, something to keep your brain ticking over and stave off the boredom.

You flipped ahead, scanning the pictures curiously, until the pages jumped between your fingers. A photo slid into your palm, slightly tattered at the edges but still clear.

“Who’s this?”

You held up the photo for Lister to see.

Immediately, his expression softened. A bashful smile slipped across his face.

“That’s Kochanski. Kristine Kochanski.”

“She’s pretty. Old girlfriend?”

“He wishes,” Rimmer said, suddenly appearing in the doorway to his and Lister’s quarters.

Lister scowled at him.

“She broke up with me, didn’t she? As you’re so fond of reminding me. You can’t break up with someone you weren’t dating.”

While they bickered, you looked back down at the girl in the photo. She was wearing the same beige JMC uniform you’d seen Lister and Rimmer wearing in other photos and videos in the ship’s memory bank.

“Did she… You know… With the rest of the crew?”

“Yeah.” There was a glint of sadness in Lister’s eyes but he appeared to push it away. “She was brilliant, you would’ve really liked her. She had everything. She was gorgeous and clever and-”

“It's a miracle she even spoke to you?” Rimmer put in, folding his arms over his chest.

You shot him a look. It probably wasn’t something that bothered the boys, but you thought poking fun at Lister about his long-dead girlfriend was overstepping the mark a little.

As you guessed, Lister didn’t seem hurt. In fact he was nodding.

“I have to agree with smeghead there. Don’t know how I did it, but she liked me. I know she did. She was fab.”

Rimmer gave a harsh, dry laugh.

“She’s no Yvonne.”

“Oh smeg off, you had one night with the girl.”

You frowned.

“Who’s this?”

“Yvonne McGruder.”

Rimmer spoke the name with pride, like he was the first man to conquer Olympus Mons.

Listed grinned.

“The ship's female boxing champion.”

“Ohh, you like it rough d’you?”

You went to nudge Rimmer’s side but remembered you couldn’t just in time. Instead, you kind of poked your elbow a few centimetres from where his ribs would have been.

“I’ll remember that, Arn.”

To your delight, his cheeks started to go a little pink. You didn’t even know holograms could blush but this was a very pleasing discovery.

“16th March,” Rimmer said, jutting out his chin to hide his embarrassment. “What a night!”

Lister snorted.

“What a tea break, more like. 12 minutes wasn’t it?”

“I’d take 12 minutes with McGruder over a lifetime with Kochanski.”

“You’re mad, Rimmer. You’re absolutely tonto.”

They were still arguing about it at dinner, except now the argument had expanded to involve more female officers aboard Red Dwarf.

You wouldn’t usually mind, it’s just that for some reason, hearing about all the girls Rimmer used to fancy was starting to make your stomach churn. Part of you wanted to make a note of their names and ask Holly to look them up later, just to see how you matched up. What did they have that was so brilliant?

Not that you felt jealous at all. That would be absolutely ridiculous. One sex dream was not enough to make you suddenly crazy about a bloke, especially one who’d been dead for millions of years.

Except, you admitted to yourself, there had been around five or six dreams now, each more vivid and tantric than the last, and each had you waking up, shoving a hand down the front of your underwear, and moaning Rimmer’s name under your breath as you came.

You swallowed hard at the thought. Only that morning, you’d dreamt about slipping into Rimmer’s lap and kissing him till he was groaning softly against your mouth, his hands on your arse and your hip, helping you grind against him while you tugged at his hair and whispered awful things against his lips, things that made your face burn to think about even now.

You crossed your legs under the table.

They were still arguing as they came to sit down with you and Cat. It was enough to put you off your chips.

“Lads, will you please stop talking about all the girls you used to fancy who are now dead as a dodo,” You turned the page of the book Lister had given you with a weary sigh. “It’s giving me the creeps.”

“Fine, we’ll talk about the girls who are alive and within a million miles of us shall we?”

“Girls?” Cat yelped. “Where?”

Lister gave you a look.

You sighed and waved him off, as if to say ‘point taken’. But Lister, ever the magpie, had found a shiny new path of conversation.

“Go on, then. Who did you fancy on your ship?”

“I didn’t fancy anyone.”

Rimmer scoffed.

“You must’ve fancied someone. Stuck in deep space with nothing else to do-”

“I was second in command of Xenolinguistics aboard a Class Five Callistan science ship.”

“So you must’ve been bored to death.” Lister rubbed his palms together, eager for a story. “C’mon, who did you fancy?”

“No one! Really! God, I preferred it when you were talking about Yvonne McGruder.”

Lister snorted.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered.

Tongue pressed against the inside of your cheek, you flashed Lister a warning look.

All the boys knew about your dream (just the first one, you’d learnt your lesson after that) and you’d barely convinced them that it would not, actually, be absolutely hilarious to tell Rimmer about it. Cat and Kryten thankfully seemed to have moved on or forgotten about it, but Lister was like a dog with a bone, and was sure there was more to read into the dream than you were willing to dwell on.

You shook your head ever so slightly, then raised a finger to your lips and grazed it past them, asking him to keep schtum.

Lister raised his eyebrows but, remarkably, did manage to control himself. He was still smiling like the devil though.

“Well, what about us?” Cat preened. “You must fancy at least one of us?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned another page of your book.

“I’m afraid I don’t fancy any of you for four very different reasons.”

Lister raised his eyebrows at you again.

“But if you had to pick one?”

“Fuck off, I’m trying to read your ridiculous book.”

“Let’s see that.” The Cat pushed his fingertips against the cover until the title was visible. “Oh, that’s a great one! Wait till you get to the cliff-hanger at the end of chapter twelve.”

Any hope that the conversation might turn to the new and brilliant revelation of cat books was stamped out by Lister’s enormous boots.

“C’mon, then. Fuck, marry, kill.”

“Oh, hang on!” This had escalated far beyond your patience. “That’s not fair, I’m the only girl.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t wanna hear about all the ways you lot would choose to fuck me!”

“You think very highly of yourself, don’t you, Lieutenant?” Rimmer crossed his arms again, getting comfortable in his chair. “Who says anyone’s choosing you!”

“Yeah! I could choose to fuck Cat! He’s handsome enough, eh?”

Lister slapped his hand down on Cat’s shoulder, giving him a shake.

Cat brushed him off, his pointed teeth bared as he sneered.

“I don’t like the way this conversation is flowing.”

“Fine, then.” Rimmer gestured at you. “You first.”

They were all watching you now. There was no getting out of this. Expectant and eager for any entertainment, they hung on your every word.

“Well…” You put the book down on the table, face down with its pages open to keep your place. “I would probably fuck… Cat. He’s not a bad looking lad and it’s only the once. We’d probably have a great time.”

Obviously extremely pleased with your answer, Cat yowled and tugged at the front of his pink sequinned jacket.

“We would, baby. We could.”

“I might have to kill Kryten,” you added, though you felt bad. “I think he’d drive me mad.”

Rimmer shook his head.

“He doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“He’s not here!”

“Fine then. I’d kill Dave.”

“What!” Lister threw up his hands, offended. “Why!”

“Because you’d drive me mad too.”

“So you’d marry Rimmer over me?”

Having fun now, you didn’t even notice the way your own heart fluttered at the thought.

“Yeah, I reckon he’d make a good husband. Sensible, reliable, handy with a wrench…”

“You wouldn’t sleep with him, then.”

“Well, I s’pose if I married him, I’d get to fuck him all the time.”

Lister blinked.

Beside him, Rimmer had gone very still.

“Eh?” Lister said, starting to smile.

“What?”

“Get to.”

“What?”

“You said ‘I’d get to fuck him all the time’.”

You shook your head, heat rising in your cheeks. You couldn’t look at Rimmer.

“Have to. I said ‘have to’.”

“No, you did not,” Cat chimed in, grinning so widely you could see all his sharp teeth.

“Yes, I did.”

“Alright, leave her alone.”

Rimmer spoke with uncharacteristic gentleness as he held up a hand. You thought he might’ve tried to rest it on your shoulder if he’d been brave enough, if he was able to.

Lister grinned.

“There he is, Mr. Right, jumping in to defend his missus.”

Rolling your eyes, you returned your attention to your dinner.

“Anyway, it’s not happening for any of you. Just so we’re clear. You couldn’t sweep a girl off her feet with Kryten’s best broom.”

“I resent that!” Lister shamelessly nicked one of your chips. “I can be pretty charming when the moment takes me.”

Rimmer shot him a dark look.

“Lister, you couldn’t charm your way out of a paper bag.”

“Listen, I’d take you on the very most of most romantic dinners, wine and dine you like you’ve never been wined and dined before. And I’d bring you flowers. And I’d wear me best shirt.”

You smiled.

“The one with only two stains?”

“The very same.”

“Well, I stand corrected.”

“That’s nothing,” Cat drawled. “Baby, I’d find us a nice little patch of grass where we could lay out in the sun all day, watch the birds in the trees, maybe eat one if we can catch any…”

“That’s your idea of romance is it?”

“It’d work on me!”

Beaming, you turned to the only man who hadn’t said anything yet. For someone who gave his opinion so readily, Rimmer was keeping awfully quiet.

You propped your chin up on the heel of your palm, tilting your head to one side as you asked,

“Rimmer?”

“What?”

“Where would you take me?”

Rimmer glanced away, his brow furrowing under his H.

“I don’t know. I’ve never actually been on a proper date before. Not one where she didn’t shimmy out the bathroom window, anyway.”

“Well,” You laughed, shaking your head. “No chance of that here. What would you wanna do?”

“Would we be on the ship?”

“Yeah, if you like,” You smiled, starting to get excited now. This was turning out to be quite a fun game. “What would you plan if you were taking me out tonight?”

“Tonight? Oh, God, well…”

He crossed his legs under the table. For a moment, you forgot yourself and almost moved out of his way, before you remembered there was no need.

Even though you were all too highly aware of the fact that you couldn’t touch each other, you still found yourself fixating on how close Rimmer’s knee was to yours. Despite yourself, you kept hoping he’d move again so his leg might brush yours. It was a doomed hope, but hope was all you had.

You waited patiently as Rimmer tapped his chin with the tip of his index finger, quite happy to have an excuse to sit and watch him closely for a while.

“I’d start with my dress uniform,” Rimmer said at last. “I’d spend hours polishing my medals and my boots and- You know, I’d make sure I looked spick and span for you. Then I’d pick you up and we’d get dinner, I suppose.”

You smiled, thinking he was finished, and opened your mouth to reassure him that that was a perfectly fine date, but then Rimmer clicked his fingers.

“No! Of course, I’d take you to the observation dome. We both like to go there to watch the stars, so we’d have that in common. Maybe I’d bring a picnic or just a drink. And we’d just… Talk. I’d learn everything I could about you, about your life and what you want from the future. Then I’d tell you how beautiful you look under the starlight and hopefully, if I’m brave enough, ask if I could kiss you. Then I’d walk you home and… Ask if you’d like to go out again tomorrow.”

You stared. You were all staring. Because how could Rimmer, who didn’t have a single romantic bone in his non-existent body, come up with something so lovely?

You kept picturing it, what it would be like to see him standing outside the door to your quarters, all dressed up to the nines in his best suit, how he’d swagger about the place, making sure you knew just how romantic he was being. Sitting under the stars together, having a proper, grown-up conversation, with no fear of interruption, or jibes from the others, or brain-eating aliens from Xebbeon 5, or whatever mad situation you were dealing with that day.

And not for the first time, you thought about what it would feel like to kiss him, if by some miracle you could. Would he dare to touch you? Or let you guide him? How would his lips feel against yours, soft or worry-bitten? How would he taste, how would he sound as you pressed yourself into him, how would it feel to have his body melting with yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hands everywhere, his nose crammed against your cheek as he whimpered your name.

You cleared your throat. Your face was so hot, it took all your willpower not to fan yourself.

“Rimmer wins.”

While the others cried out their disappointment and disgust like disgruntled fishwives, you couldn’t resist smiling at the pleased look on Rimmer’s face.

“Oh, get lost,” Lister was scowling. “The man’s never even been on a date. Not one that didn’t end with him having to explain to the waiter that he’d been dumped mid-starter, anyway.”

“Yes, I have!”

“Name one.”

“McGruder!”

“A different one. You know, he only slept with her once and that’s it.”

Beside you, Rimmer visibly tensed.

You just shrugged.

“So? What does it matter how many times he slept with her? You only had one date.”

That last part was directed at Rimmer, who looked like he wanted to crawl into the airlock and launch himself into space.

“No, he’s only slept with one girl his whole life.”

That made Cat laugh but everyone else stayed quiet.

“Lister,” Rimmer hissed between his teeth.

It wasn’t often you saw him embarrassed. Considering how much they teased him, Rimmer took it all fairly well. Before they found you, you knew the boys had been living, and then surviving, together for years. Rimmer had obviously just got used to it.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t deserve it. He could be such an idiot sometimes, a pompous stickler who wasn’t happy if he wasn’t criticising. Sometimes, you wanted to put his head through a wall. But for some reason, you couldn’t help liking him. And seeing Rimmer shift uncomfortably in his chair made your chest lurch.

“Oh.” You were finding it very hard not to look at Rimmer like you wanted to rip his clothes off. “Well, so what? Some people find that attractive.”

“They do?”

Rimmer looked shocked.

“Oh, yeah?” Lister eyed you, smug as anything. “They do, eh?”

“Yes, actually.”

You hated being the only girl onboard. You hated having to be the one to teach these boys that women were actually, shockingly, just people, and not some mythical creature too complex to understand. You especially resented the idea of being a motherly figure, you weren’t here to teach them, to take care of them, so having to explain the female psyche left a sour taste in your mouth.

“It clearly meant a lot to him. He’s got an emotional side under all that neurosis. And some women quite like the idea of an inexperienced man. Someone you could guide and… Explore… And…”

You trailed off when you realised you were eyeing up Rimmer again. Just knowing only one person had seen him like that, and for only 12 drunken minutes, set your heart racing.

No one had ever touched him like they cared about him. No one had ever undressed him and kissed their way down his body, looked into his eyes and told him how lovely he was before kissing him like he was the most precious thing in the galaxy.

Not that you wanted to do that, you reminded yourself. This was all only hypothetical.

“And they’re so eager to please…” You added, your cheeks burning. “Some might say. I wouldn’t know.”

Rimmer had been watching your mouth as you talked. You put it down to the food-envy, you were still munching on your chips. You tried not to think about how it had been millions of years since he’d last tasted anything.

Across the table from you, Lister shrugged.

“Whatever.”

The conversation changed. The mood shifted back to something less tense. You just tried to enjoy your dinner and pay attention to whatever the boys were joking about. And when everyone decided to go watch a film in the cinema, you went along happily.

You felt Rimmer’s eyes on you for the rest of the night.

When, one by one, you all went off to bed, you thought the matter had been forgotten.

You pressed your hand against the keypad beside the door to your quarters, waiting to hear the familiar hiss and release of pressure.

“Did you really like my date best?”

The voice made you jump.

Rimmer was standing awkwardly a little way down the corridor. His and Lister’s quarters were just a few doors down from yours. Why they insisted on sleeping in the same bunks they were assigned long ago evaded you, but they were creatures of habit by now, you thought drawing attention to it would only cause an argument.

“Yeah,” you said, after you’d found your voice again. It faltered and stumbled as you worked your way through a reply. “Yeah, I thought it sounded nice, Arn.” You smiled. “We’d have a laugh.”

Rimmer laughed softly. It wasn’t a sound you were used to hearing but you liked it.

“Yes, I think we would. And you…”

“Yeah?”

His hands were folded behind his back, but from the way his shoulders shifted, you could tell he was wringing them nervously.

“You really don’t mind that I’ve only made love once?”

Suddenly, you could feel your heartbeat pulsing in your neck, your wrists, your throat.

“Why would I mind?” you asked quickly.

Rimmer blanched, as if he’d suddenly realised what he’d just asked you.

“Oh, God, no reason why you should at all! No. Stupid. Why would you- I don’t care if you care. I knew it was fine.”

“It is fine, Arnie.”

“Fine.”

You looked at each other for a moment. You had the sneaking suspicion that neither of you knew what was happening, what exactly was going on between you, but you could both feel something.

Finally, you cracked a smile and Rimmer’s shoulders sank with relief.

“And that other stuff…”

He took a few steps closer. Rimmer was still several feet away from you, but him closing the gap that little bit more made your chest lurch. Part of you wanted to close it even further but your feet felt bolted to the floor.

“That’s all… Stuff you’re interested in?”

You couldn’t help it. Your gaze dropped to his mouth, then his neck, his chest, down the length of his long legs, then back up again. It felt like an age passed between your eyes leaving his and meeting them again.

“Is that okay?” you asked, feeling oddly brave.

Rimmer nodded quickly.

“It’s fine.”

“Fine.”

A moment passed. Neither of you moved. Then Rimmer cleared his throat and turned away.

“Well, goodnight,” he said, and hurried off before you could say anymore.

You pulled in a lungful of air. You hadn’t realised you’d been holding your breath.

You watched Rimmer until he disappeared into his and Lister’s room and the doors had slid shut behind him.

“G’night, Arn,” you said, then went to collapse onto your bed.

Next Chapter

Master List

#chris barrie #red dwarf #arnold rimmer #arnold rimmer you #arnold rimmer x you #arnold rimmer reader #arnold rimmer smut #arnold rimmer imagine #arnold rimmer x reader #rimmer red dwarf #red dwarf imagine #red dwarf smut #red dwarf fic #my post

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jess-the-reckless · 4 months

Text

Sorry about your gay pirates, pirate brainrotters. If it helps, here are some free gay pirates of my own to fill your pirate-shaped hole.

I liked Our Flag Means Death. I enjoyed S1, and I’m looking forward to seeing S2, particularly as I understand that Lucius lives, and Nathan Foad might be one of the funniest human beings on the planet. I liked its silliness, its cheerful disregard for historical accuracy, and how every ship seemed to become a sort of sartorial TARDIS for Stede Bonnet’s expansive wardrobe. It was a lot of fun, but it never succeeded in burrowing all the way down into my heart the way that other things do, because the gay pirate space in my heart was already occupied.

And the gay pirates in question were mine, so obviously I’m going to love them more. You’re always going to love your own children, especially when said child is a snarling transvestite monster-baby like Jem Exley.

I don’t know when Jem first appeared in my head exactly, but I can identify the fleeting larval thought that turned into the all-consuming brainworm of Reckless. I was writing something about reef diving off the coast of Florida, and the instructor character made a mention of pirate wrecks. And I saw them. A clear flash of the pirates. One was your typical romance novel sexy pirate, and the other was a fascinating binfire of a human being, flintlocked and loaded, gnarly eighteenth century cosmetics melting off his face in the Caribbean heat. I knew immediately that they were lovers – terrible, messy, co-dependent, and borderline backstabbing lovers – and that their story would come back and bother me at a later date.

And with that I forgot about them.

Sort of.

Jem kept coming back, though. He came back in clay pipes, banyan robes, in the shoes and combs and gloves I saw at the Fashion Museum in Bath. He wandered back by way of Monteverdi, Henry Fielding, and drag queen sass, and when characters keep popping back into your head like that you know you’re pretty much doomed to write the damned book.

So I did, and I had a fucking blast. I read pirate books, listened to pirate podcasts, wallowed happily in Baroque music. As a bonus, because the book takes place so early in the eighteenth century, a lot of the seventeenth century bleeds over into it, and I love the seventeenth century. Like most interesting times, it was undoubtedly horrible to live through, but I had so much fun making sure that the scars of the Civil Wars were still visible in both Jem and Henry’s backgrounds. The lively Restoration theatre scene makes an appearance at the start of the book, and the Duke of Monmouth – one of many seventeenth-century candidates for the ultimate Fuck-Around-and-Find-Out award – is namechecked multiple times as a plot point. Beady-eyed history nerds will also spot a hostile polydactyl cat named after a loathed seventeenth-century despot, who also – happily – fucked around and very much found out. (The despot, that is. Not to spoiler, but the cat lives and thrives, and goes on to beat up iguanas in the sequel, Code Noir.)

Ultimately, though, the fun I had with this book comes down to playing around with old romance novel trope of the virgin captured by the pirate. What if the pirate captor was the virgin in this story? It wasn’t too much of a stretch, especially since so many pirates were so very, very young, and that gave me the jumping off point for the character of Henry Dyer. He’s a kid, only nineteen at the start of the story. Yes, eighteenth-century nineteen is a lot different from twenty-first-century nineteen, but biology remains the same. He’s still going to be subject to the slings and arrows of outrageous hormones, even if he’s been at sea since he was fifteen years old. And he’s confused. He doesn’t fully understand why his dick doesn’t work properly in the brothels, although he hangs around and helps the girls with their book-keeping, since he always had a good head for figures.

It takes Jem – a cross-dressing sex-worker who is quite happy to be mistaken for a woman if he thinks it might suit his latest scam – to unconfuse Henry. Once he knows what he wants, he goes for it, and what you end up with is two uncompromising weirdos finding a way to be themselves in a world that wants them dead. I get into this more in the sequel, but I wanted to emphasise that this is a horrendous time to be alive if you’re not a straight, white male with a fat bank balance, and preferably some kind of title. Aristocratic Jem ticks several of those boxes, and yet still gets sent packed onto a ship for the colonies in the hope that he will die discreetly of yellow fever somewhere. Alive, in England, he’s an embarrassment who keeps doing drag, sucking dick, and stealing everything that isn’t on fire or nailed down. And not the respectable kind of stealing, either, the kind you do with an invading army and a Union Jack. No, this is the poor people sort of theft, the kind they hang people for.

Meanwhile Henry, originally groomed for the church but too clever for his own good, arrives at the reasonable conclusion that he’d rather not believe in a God who seems to keep letting people make such a mess of things in His name. He falls into piracy like so many others, when his merchant ship gets captured by a pirate crew who make him a much better offer. And he likes it. He’s good at it. Nobody cares if he believes in God or not. He gets to work with the things he does believe in, the things he can see and feel, like the wind and the tides, and it makes him a superb sailor. It also, when he gets there, makes him a superb lover.

And that’s what it’s all about, in the end. This story may be messy, violent, crime-riddled, and full of so much vomit that I actually put a content warning for emetophobes in the front, but it’s still a love story. And if the world isn’t going to let you love who you love? Well, you’re just going to have to be gay and do crimes. Lots, and lots of crimes.

And they do. (Spoilers: they’re pirates.)

#gay pirates #be gay do crimes #ofmd #original fiction #free ebooks #queer romance #historical romance

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mongreldyke · 1 year

Note

I haven't watched Willow but if they're both knights (?) Maybe. Armour maintaining

BENREY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS

rest of the fic under the cut

i might do a part 2 if anyone else wants it i’m very obsessed with this. so much brainrot

“... Have you maintained your armor at all, Your Highness?”

“I told you to call me Kit.” It was the knee-jerk reaction Kit had whenever she heard the title from the guard’s mouth. No one else would listen to that request, it was always Your Highness, or worse, ma’am. (She didn’t know why that specifically made her skin feel wrong on her skin, like someone had plastered an ill-fitting mask across her mouth and acted like it was anything like what she truly was.) Jade, though, listened to her. Kit thinks that she’s not exactly a girl the same way Kit is.

Jade muttered a soft apology, running the cloth she was holding down her sword in a clean swipe. “It is important, though. Infections and all that.” Before Kit could respond with something sharp (but soft, in her own way), Jade wrinkles her nose playfully. “Also, Kit, you’re rank.”

Kit spluttered. “Well, maybe-” I like being rank. That wasn’t proper to say though, even alone in the armory with this not-quite-girl, hair like a fire and eyes like the earth (Not the dark earth that would grow things, though. Her eyes were like clay, almost red in their intensity, and sharp enough to cut sometimes, but stunning in its own way). Jade would also like to be rank, she thought, to stink of hard work, to slip on the padding and think This is where I should be, and it smells of my teeth-gritted anger to boot.

But she knew if anyone caught wind of the princess saying that she would rather march out of the castle in sweaty knight’s armor instead of spending her days balancing a stupid tiara on her pretty little princess head, her mother would have her head. She bit her tongue.

Jade was perceptive, though. Probably useful skill to have in a knight-to-be (Jade found that title too presumptive. Kit thought she should have more faith in herself.)

Jade let the silence sit for a few moments, exactly the length of two swipes of the cloth on the blade; one up to the hilt, and one back down.

“I do... understand. When I was a kid I barely showered on my own.” Jade didn’t look up, and Kit couldn’t look away. One orange curl fell in front of her eyes, and she brushed it away, leaving a smear of grease on her forehead. It curved like a crescent moon, like a blade slash, and if there was little more oil it would’ve bled like one, too. “Ballantine said I smelled like one of the stable boys, and I honestly found that to be high praise.”

This was... too close. Jade was her friend, probably, but sharing anecdotes with her wasn’t a good idea. She couldn’t understand her, not really. Jade was an orphan in a different way than Kit was half-orphaned. She wouldn’t understand how the armor was styled just a bit too much like her dad’s. Her mother said she talked, snapped, quipped in the same way he did, and she knew it wasn’t a compliment. But the armor felt like home, and so did the sweat, and the blood (there was a little bit in the suit, and a cut on ribs she would never show her mother, but she might show Jade, just to gloat about the scar).

Jade might be not quite a girl like she was but she wasn’t just a little bit her father’s son like she was. She didn’t need to know about that bit yet.

“Uh.” Kit cleared her throat, and ran a hand up her neck (her hair came in the way, she was thinking of taking the sword to it soon if her mother kept wheedling about how the braid was more proper). “I’ll clean it. Don’t worry about it.”

Jade wicked the last of the water off of her blade, then looked up at Kit. “Do you know how to?”

Jade laughed when Kit was quiet a little bit too long. It was a nice laugh, sharp and loud. It took up space and Kit liked that about Jade. Envied her for it, maybe. “No worries, Kit.” Yes, she prefers that out of Jade’s mouth much more. “I’ll show you how to tomorrow. We’ll need the whole day, I think.”

Kit huffed, but Jade just laughed again, and she didn’t find herself minding being laughed at, for once.

#willow 2022 #kit x jade #tanthamore #jade claymore #kit tanthalos #kit and jade #dhole makes his blorbos very gender and very butch part infinity #they gave her such a complex about her father. and i think she's trans about it okay #dholes writing #willow fanfiction

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miscelunaaa · 1 year

Text

flurious | ksj

pairing: seokjin x female reader

genre: college au ig. slice of life?? really I have no idea tbh

summary: it's fine, you're not mad at your best friend at all! in fact!! you're so fine that you're going to work off some steam just to prove how fine you are!!

rating: T for too much swearing

word count: 3k

warnings: Based On Real Events™️ (at least in part). Reader can’t ice skate. Lots of swearing. Reader is a stubborn piece of shit (affectionate). Himbecile Namjoon (derogatory). Unrequited crushes if you squint. Very cold winter environments. Small college vibes. Lots of talk about falling on one’s butt and bruises and common impact injuries associated with learning how to do coordinated things like ice skating for the first time; reader’s a tough nugget, she’s doing great. She might also have a slight pain kink oops. Vague prejudice against tenors I’m sorry. Crack if you squint. Angst if you squint. The only thing fluffy about this fic is Jin’s coat tbh, it’s intended to be more of a slice of life than anything else.

notes: Hi. It's missing Seokjin hours in the emothy household so have a short oneshot that I started months ago and randomly finished last night when I couldn't sleep. This really is actually based on a real experience I had, but that's all I'm going to say about the matter alksjhfalsjkdh

For once, I’m not feeling super long winded, so we’re going to leave it at that! Enjoy <3

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

The student union is vacant when you walk into its warm, welcoming arms. It’s perfect. No one can judge you for what you’re about to attempt and that’s exactly what you want.

“I’d like to rent a pair of skates please,” you ask the student worker at the desk.

She blearily looks up from a thick textbook and asks for your shoe size before standing to fetch them from the equipment closet. In return for the skates, you leave your student I.D. The entire exchange takes mere seconds. You haven’t even regained the warmth in your nose before you’re stepping back out into the cold night and stomping off to the shabby, makeshift ice rink on the quad.

It’s a clear evening. The stars flicker coldly above, making the eerie yellow light of the campus’s many lamp posts seem warm in comparison. It’s a Saturday evening; no one’s wandering around the tiny college at this strangely late hour, not with a foot of snow pack on the ground, so there’s no one around to watch you angrily try to teach yourself to ice skate.

Anger comes naturally to you. It’s easy, if not outright comfortable, for you to just sit and stew in the emotion. Yet still it’s all to your detriment, making you feel frazzled and out of control. Times like this call for full body distractions, and what’s better than teaching yourself something you’ve literally never done before?

Falling on your ass is the perfect distraction from your asshole best friend’s bullshit right now. It’s fucking perfect and nothing is stopping you from doing this, least of all him. After all, he’s the one who came back from winter break with a fancy new hair cut and now allll the girls are like “uwu Joonie you look so nice without the perm.” While he’s getting all that attention there’s nothing to stop you from sneaking away, because why on earth would he pay attention to you, his fucking best friend, when he could be paying attention to girls far cuter than you even if they’d thought he was gross when he had the perm? God he’s so fucking stupid.

It doesn’t bother you at all. You don’t really see the difference anyway. He’s still a total freak even without the perm so you don’t really get the hype. It’ll take five minutes for the fawning to cease because in that time he’ll open his big dumb mouth and anyone with two brain cells to rub together will see how much of a dweeb he still is. Even so, the people continue to come in flocks and crowd you out. There’s alway someone new who wants to look at the newly pretty boy.

Fuck ... being ignored like that (to your face!!) fucking hurts. Anger is always preferable to the sting of being ignored. The anger means that you’re at least trying to be productive, even as you hide yourself away from the world. The cold is as good a shield as any.

You sit on the rickety edge of the rink and kick off your boots. Carefully, you pull on each skate and lace them up tight, making sure that your ankles have no room to roll. You find yourself swearing angrily as your gloved hands struggle with the laces, but your anger bolsters your persistence. Nothing can take you down from this high, not even the threat of absolutely biffing it like you know you’re going to.

It takes a moment to talk yourself into standing once you’ve set the blades to the ice. “Just stand to start” is what you tell yourself. After a few moments, and a flash or two of dimples in your mind’s eye, you get yourself to stand.

With arms flailing, you stay upright for a good ten seconds. Your fatal flaw, however, is hubris. In your hubris you thought you could take a tentative step forward.

As it turns out, ice can smell fear and has an impact play kink.

You stare up at the sky for a moment after your first fall. Your ass hurts and will probably ache like a bitch tomorrow, but honestly you’re kind of a masochist; you’re not not into this. Why else would you be in this situation, so angry with your annoyingly cute freak of a best friend that you can hardly function? You knew he was handsome underneath the questionable aesthetic choices, and you knew he was dumb enough that he’d start ignoring you to talk to people he was more romantically interested in as soon as he fixed his appearance. You always knew this would happen, and yet you invested time in him anyway. You always rate last; experiencing this pain was only a matter of time.

And yet, the seconds tick by. You steel yourself and carefully stand, avoiding a second slip, but only just. You narrow your eyes at your goal: the rink wall opposite of where you started. You’re going to fucking do this, falls be damned. It’s like ten yards. You can totally do this. You’re going to make this stupid ice your bitch.

Eight seconds later, you’re on your ass again. But hey, you made it a few feet forward. Progress is still progress in spite of accrued costs.

And so you stand again. You try doing that pushing thing with the blade of the skate, but something in your body doesn’t expect to move, so you wobble unsteadily for a moment. A breath, and then another push, more gently this time. Ah, you’re doing it! Yet another push and—

Well ... At least the stars make good company. Your elbow hurts this time; you must’ve whacked it in the fall. Feels like it’ll bruise but that’s just the cost of doing business with this rink and your own stupidity. You carefully scramble up, and try again.

When you finally make it to the other side of the rink, you’re so excited that you trip into the little wall. At least you can catch yourself with your hands this way. And hey, moving to a sitting position isn’t so hard! The cold soothes your achey butt as you let yourself relax for a moment.

Maybe this was a stupid idea. You can feel the high of white hot rage beginning to cool. You’re not sure if it’s the pain or the exertion. Maybe it’s time to pack up and return the skates. It’s getting late after all, you probably need to at least try to sleep.

You’re so mired in your thoughts that you almost miss the backlit figure appear, exiting the student union. Whoever it is is wearing a big puffy coat, and they have something odd looking in their hands. After a moment you realize, heat crawling up your neck, that the item in their hands is a pair of skates, and they’re walking across the quad to the rink.

You stand quickly, albeit unsteadily, as if to show that the rink is occupied, but alas, they seem undeterred. Shit. The only thing that could make this worse is if you were to suddenly loose your balance.

Lo and behold, fate has a sense of humor, and you do just that before you can think to do anything else.

You grimace as you sit up. You weren’t expecting an audience for this. As the figure approaches, you see that it’s one of the guys who works the student union’s cafe some evenings. He’s always seemed nice enough and ugh, he’s cute too. He’s got these broad shoulders that your friends love to stare at while they wait for their drinks to be made. Definitely not the audience you’d prefer if you must have one. As you scramble back upright, he sits at the edge of the rink and starts to unlace his boots.

“Hello,” he says quietly, glancing up as he pulls on a skate. His voice is low, with a rich timbre you didn’t expect. He sounds like he might be a tenor. You hate tenors. You hate musicians. Namjoon’s a musician too, the bastard.

“Hi,” you reply flatly, trying not to grit your teeth in frustration. You don’t even look at him when he looks at you; you don’t need his approval, and looking at him will just make you shy. You don’t have time for that shit, damn it. With care, you try to push forward again, before stopping, arms flailing. You only just manage to preserve your balance and straighten up so you can try again.

The intruder watches you warily as he starts to pull on his rented skates. You can feel the press of his curiosity on the back of your neck and you don’t know how to politely ask for him to simply not.

You’re pretty sure you see him flinch when your skates suddenly, but inevitably, slip out from beneath you, leaving you sprawled out on your ass, the ice beneath cold yet soothing for your bruised buttocks. And yet, he says nothing as he pushes off from the side of the rink, gracefully no less. He says nothing as you pull yourself up again, only to fall again as well, just as you were finding your balance. You take a deep breath, fog slowly coming from your lips as you let it out. Once you’re to your feet again, and without falling this time, you can’t help but let yourself smile, just a little, just to yourself.

Giving up whomst? You could never.

For a moment, you just stand on the ice, breathing and letting yourself feel the skates wrapped around your feet and ankles. Just a small push now. Can’t let this rando see you sweat now, can you?

The stranger watches, his handsome face blank but for curious eyes, as you make it a whole fifteen seconds before slipping and falling again, this time onto a knee and your hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him grimace as you look at your hands and dust them of with a huffed little “fuck.”

He’s literally skating circles around you. It’s fucking obnoxious, but damn it, you want to be able to skate like that too. So you stand up again, and vicious cycle begins anew.

“You okay?” the stranger suddenly asks. It startles you, the wobble almost sending you to the ice with a crack yet again.

“I’m fine.” Your tone is clipped with frustration. You sure as shit don’t sound fine.

He drifts across your field of vision, going fucking backwards on his skates. It’s like it’s nothing! Fucking show off. What a fucking d—

Alright. That fall kind of hurt for real. Your poor elbows. They might be having a worse time than your knees. Did you just knock the wind out of yourself with that one?

His words come from a little closer this time. “Are you sure you’re—“

“—I’m fucking fine.”

You didn’t mean to snap. You really didn’t. Everything was fine until this dude just joined you out here out of the blue with his stupid face and his stupid talent and—

“You’re really scrappy, you know that right?”

You glare at him as you push yourself back to your feet. His plush mouth splits into a heart-rending smile. Fuck, he’s cute. Bitch, do not do this to yourself.

He keeps talking as you struggle aright. “I mean it. I’ve never watched someone keep falling like that just to get up and try again.”

You’re not even sure what to say to that. You’re glad you’ve got the built in focus of trying to do something out of your comfort zone and skill set, so an immediate reply isn’t expected. But you do have to say something in reply eventually. The comment was just ... kind of unexpected. And honestly, you think he meant it well, and it’s hard not to let the pride push a smile to your face. You fight it, of course, because you’re supposed to be angry, not pleased.

“I’m too stubborn for my own good,” you finally grit out. “But thank you.” Ah, that was good. Keep that shit up, and maybe he won’t think you’re a total freak by the time one or the other of you leaves.

“There are worse things to be.” His smile is warm enough to melt the ice beneath the blades of your skates. Cold? What cold? You feel nothing but blistering heat creeping up your neck. You’re not used to this kind of attention from anyone, if you’re being honest, let alone cute barista boys in puffy coats. “Tenacity isn’t a bad thing.”

“The bruises on my ass say otherwise.”

When he laughs, it’s low in his chest, velvety like the milk he steams for the cute folks that come to him for lattes and London fogs. You’d be swept away by his charms completely as well if you weren’t too busy being swept off your feet by your own stupidity.

You hardly feel the thump when you hit the hard surface of the ice this time. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re cold or if it’s just you’re used to falling now. The numbness of either is the same after a certain point; that’s the point of numbness, after all.

For a moment, you stare at the sky. It gives you a moment to catch your breath. Watching the stars twinkle and flicker as if they’re laughing at something reminds you that, right, you’re not alone out here on the ice. You hope the stars aren’t laughing at your shitty attempts to flirt with this stranger.

When you pull yourself up to sit, you see that the cute stranger is carefully skating backwards, his head turned and tilted so he can see where he’s going. Good lord, he’s handsome, even like this. In the grimy street lamp light, you can see that his face has been kissed by the cold, but it doesn’t do much to make him look less attractive. The focus on his face makes it almost look suggestive as he bites down on his plush lip. For a moment, you allow yourself to watch, thankful that he’s not looking at you.

When he glances at you, still sitting on the ice with your legs spread haphazardly, your eyes meet his. He smiles at you. Suddenly, the air leaves your lungs as if you’ve fallen again, the wind knocked from them like you’ve taken a blow. And then as soon as it happens, it stops, for one moment he was smiling at you, and the next he was sprawled on the ice with a thud and the smallest, cutest “fuck” you’ve ever heard in your life.

The look of surprise on his face is so aghast that you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m so—“ wheeze “—s-sorry, I shouldn’t—“ fuck, that’s hilarious “—laugh b-but the look on your f-face!”

The shock fades, only to be replaced by a pout that cracks at the edges as he tries not to laugh with you.

You start to push yourself forward him, half crawling, half crab-walking. Soon the pout breaks into a smile as you sit beside him and poke his cheek with a gloved finger. Where on earth did that fucking come from?? You’re poking strangers now??

“How does it feel to be a mere mortal?” you ask. Maybe the question will distract from the ... random face poking? Maybe the cold really is getting to you.

“Never said I was good at skating,” he says, still smiling at you. “Though I can’t say I feel like getting up and trying again after that.”

You scoff. “You’re giving up too easily. What’s the opposite of tenacious?”

“Cold.”

“That’s fair. I’m not even sure if I can feel my ass at this point.”

He laughs, and the deep sound seems to rumble in his chest, just like it had when you’d first heard it. But then he does the unexpected, and holds out a hand to you. “I’m Seokjin, by the way.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself in kind. “You work at the cafe right?”

“Yeah. It gets hot back there, I like doing something in the cold after a shift if I can.”

You nod. “I get it. I’m out here because a friend pissed me off and I needed to work through it.”

“Can’t kick their ass so you’re letting the ice kick your ass instead?”

Not even the heat of embarrassment can heat up your cold cheeks at this point. He’s read you like a book. You’re poking strangers, and he’s reading you like he probably reads his homework.

“Alright, it’s getting really fucking cold out here,” Seokjin suddenly says. He pulls himself towards the nearest sideboard and sits on top of it. “I’m calling it a night.”

You don’t expect his expectant look. “What?”

“You’ve been out here longer than me. Can you even feel your fingers at this point?”

“Um.” There’s some small part of you that doesn’t want this to end, but lying about it feels futile when you know he’s going to see right through it. “No.”

“I think it might be a good idea for you to head in too ...” he says, and then: “I could sneak back into the cafe for some hot water. Want to have some tea to warm up? Maybe you could talk about this friend who pissed you off.”

It’s late, if you’re being honest. You should probably go home and lick your wounds. But as you pull yourself up onto the sideboard with Seokjin, you decide that staying out might be worth it. Staying out in the first place is what got you on the ice. Staying out kept you here, which in turn meant you got to meet Seokjin. Staying out meant you got to talk and have this moment. It’s a relief to just be able to talk, rather than fight for someone’s attention.

What’s another few minutes?

“Sure, I’d like that.”

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 12.6.2022

#bts fic #bts fanfic #kim seokjin fic #ksj x reader #ksj x female reader #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin x f reader #seokjin x female reader

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