#i’ll fix him in editing

[navysealt4t]

giggles

#not to happy with gill in this snip #i’ll fix him in editing #i haven’t actually written jerwee in a while i need to get back in the zone #anyways i love making jayson ferin worse than in canon <3 so much trauma and angst #sunshine / moonrays #blue’s writing

[kadajsbitch]

Fresh Air

Pinocchio x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smoking a cigarette, other than that none for the most part.

I kind of want to turn this into a series, idk yet. This may be a bit OOC but for the most part, the character is nameless as for the little mentions of her family and things, I still for the most part kept it a clean slate for the readers to make that themselves. If I do make this a series, I’ll probably give them a last name or something but as of now, it’s pretty much a blank slate so enjoy. 😅

•*•*•*•*•*•

It was late. Way too late for a lady of her status to be outside even if it was just to stand in front of the building she resided at.

But then again, those things didn’t matter anymore… not with the rogue mechanoids patrolling the streets of Krat looking for any potential human or even puppet that hadn’t been affected with whatever was turning them haywire, to ultimately slaughter. It also didn’t matter anymore considering she no longer lived under her families rule anymore. For all they knew, she was dead and despite that being a cause for concern to most, it was one of the things that felt like a grand weight being lifted off her shoulders… therefore, her status didn’t matter anymore.

She pulled her robe around herself a little more tightly for the sake of keeping warmth. Due to the fires that were beginning to spread around the already apocalyptic city, the winds had picked up, causing for it all to appear slightly foggy, and in all honesty hard to breath… which made for what she was about to do seem stupid.

But one thing was for certain and that was that Krat was now in an apocalyptic state and even if the puppets were to one day just stop their tumultuous assault against everything within their line of vison, it would take years before Krat could be in a state of repair… and years before it would be fully repaired.

She reached into her robe pocket, keeping her head up and alert as she looked around once more, wearily taking a few hesitant steps away from the door. While it had only been a few days since her arrival to the hotel, she felt as if she was trapped which to her was slightly ironic because before she had arrived, she had told herself if there were people there who could help her, she’d never leave the building for the sake of her life.

To get to the hotel had been a challenging and a perilous journey itself. She had been on her way back to the station, not willing that was or sure but having only been in Krat because she thought she’d be able to hide out there until her family got bored with looking for her…

She let out a frustrated huff, as she quickly moved to check her other pocket, and to both her satisfaction and annoyance, she finally grasped the thing she had been looking for… the box of cigarettes.

Straightening herself as she hesitantly glanced down the bridge and around her once more, making sure she was indeed alone. Her attention fell back to the little box. She had grabbed it off a corpse when she had been running towards the hotel… she guessed it had been a simple cream white color before it had been splattered with blood.

It felt wrong to grab it off a dead man’s body, but then again it wasn’t like he would be using them. She for one, definitely did not them nor have any true need for them considering she had never smoked before in her life. Yet she did it… and she despite the overwhelming feeling of regret having to do with her actions, she felt a peculiar sense of excitement by it due to the fact if her family could see her, they’d surely throw a fit at catching her smoking.

She carefully slid the little box from the bloodied sleeve that held its contents, before pulling one of the carefully hand rolled pieces out. Quickly, she placed it between her lips before pocketing the box and shoving it back in her robe pocket and finding her matches.

Speaking of her family….

She came from a wealthy one. One with lots of influence on those within in London and neighboring countries, yet no one would’ve guessed considering she never had her debut into society the proper way due to the fact she had ran away. She knew what would come of the day… Her mother had wanted to throw a debutante ball and hold it at their manor, like they had done for her sister and cousins, and so on.

While from the outside, it seemed like a grand affair, some girls who were the stars of their balls and those they attended, loved it and looked forward to them, she knew it was just an excuse for her parents to go window shopping for a husband for her. The very thing she did not want.

So, she waited a week before the event, the night of her escape she had changed into one of the puppet servants clothing and promptly ran away. She had been fifteen then… and she had been very ill-prepared for how the world outside of first class society really was and yet, she wouldn’t trade it for nothing in the world because at least she had one thing her parents seemed to have not wanted her to have at all, and that was free will to live her life according.

Of course, her family wasn’t just going to allow her to leave on her own terms. Over the years she had narrowly escaped men who had chased after her, no doubt privately hired by her father who promised them wealth and money to find her. Three men in which, continued their pursuit of finding and bringing her back to her father alive and in one piece for the award they were no doubt expecting from the man.

And they would’ve succeeded this time too, if not for the puppets at the station going haywire and attacking the men who were all but trying to drag her in the train and those around her…

Feeling her hand grasp the small box of matches, she quickly pulled it out, her head whipping around to ensure her safety once more before she looked down, bringing the now lit match that she had repeatedly hit against the striker until it was ignited.

Quickly she brought the end of her cigarette to it before shaking the match out, and taking a shaky inhale. While she had never smoked before, she had been told if she ever tried, to inhale with her mouth first before fully inhaling with her lungs to avoid the embarrassment of hacking up said lungs. She pushed the smoke out through her nose, making an audible “Oh.” Sound before, she brought the cigarette away from her mouth as she hesitantly looked across the bridge, her face fixing on the figure she hadn’t noticed before.

She froze for what felt like minutes before she slowly made her way to the hotel door. However, she got the need to look back once more, in which she did, and luckily it wasn’t a puppet like she had assumed… it was him.

He was halfway across the bridge now, his eyes fixed on her. He wore a simple chemise top that had a loose frill collar, and simple black breeches with his flat shoes and socks. A stark contrast from the uniform she was use to seeing him in…She suddenly became aware of what she had on, as the skirt of her chemise night dress and train of her robe blew slightly in the harsh wind, again reminding her that she shouldn’t have been out. If not for the fact that by societal standards, she was a woman, it was the fact that she was dressed indecently especially considering she was alone.

She pulled the silk robe a little bit tighter around her chest area, looking down to make sure it was still secured in place by the silk belt of the robe before she hesitantly stepped away from the door as he got closer.

“It’s late. You could’ve smoked through the window.” His voice was surprisingly deep yet it wasn’t so guttural, and held a softness to it. It was both pleasing yet odd coming from him considering his features were somewhat soft. Despite this, he didn’t sound particularly upset or worried about what she was doing. More so stating the situation, and a solution that would’ve been better than her coming outside.

She sighed softly, exhaling the smoke as she turned to look behind him and towards her right. “Yes, it is and I could’ve but I needed some time outside of the hotel… I know the air isn’t particularly fresh out here, but it’s nice to be outside.” She said, her eyes finding his to search his expression.

He tilted his chin down slightly keeping his eyes on her as his eyebrows furrowed in an expression that seemed to be questioning her reasons.

“Nice to be outside… in these conditions.” He turned his body slightly to look at the scene beyond the destroyed building that stood closer to the hotel as his eyes shifted from one collapsing building to the few giant clouds of black smoke rising in the air from fires that brewed.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly as she took another drag of the cigarette, now feeling a little more comfortable to inhale it. “As thankful as I am for Antonia’s benevolence and allowing me to stay under her roof for the time being, staying inside for too long can be a bit stuffy. No matter how many windows you open.” She said, watching as he turned to look back at her, his eyebrow raised slightly in a questioning matter while his gaze seemed to hold a look of doubt.

“Besides, it’s not like we can really have many windows open… while it does seem like the puppets tend to ignore the inside of the buildings, if they catch wind of seeing anything within, they’ll do what they usually do.” She says frowning. When she had arrived to the hotel, she had felt safe enough to relax and be as loud as she wanted due to the fact she was staying in the highest part of the hotel… that’s until Antonia informed her that some of the puppets were climbing.

“How attentive. You’re observant enough to know that if they think they can sense humans within the building, they’ll tear it down in a means to get to us. Yet it’s alright to stand outside and smoke because you’re in need of fresh air?” At this, she narrowed her eyes at him slightly before rolling them watching as a gentle grin found it’s way on his lips.

“We haven’t been formally introduced. My name’s Pinocchio.” At this, her exspression shifted to one of curiosity. “Like the fairytale?” He nodded before holding his hand out for her to shake, an action in which she carefully repeated as they became familiar with one another.

“(Y/n).” She said, a little to stiffly for her liking but hoping it was believable. She had been using the false name for years after she had ran away, yet it never felt right coming from her lips.

She didn’t miss how the corner of his mouth slowly withdrew, his eyebrow raising more as a smirk found its way to his face. “Lovely name. I haven’t met anyone with a name like yet.” She smiled, withdrawing her hand from his as he did as well.

She had seen the man walking around the hotel every now and then, but she had never interacted with him due to the fact he seemed to only really come inside the hotel to maybe get supplies and talk to Eugenia, Antonia, and the man who resided in the study.

And almost immediately, he’d leave afterwards. She had never seen him eat or drink anything, which in turn made her believe he ate when she was either in her room considering the fact it’s where she mainly stayed now unless she was speaking with Eugenia, the girl who ran the weapons shop she had became friendly with.

After a moment of silence and looking at one another, he turned to face the bridge to look at the scene in-front of them.

“You shouldn’t stay out too long. They rarely come up here, but every now and then there’s two or three that are sauntering infront of the door when I come or am exiting.” At this, her face fell from the relaxed, almost pleasant look to one of shock. Not really by the fact that they would come close to the hotel, that much she assumed but she hadn’t even bothered to check the windows before she so much as opened the doors.

He glanced at her from the side before smiling gently, turning back towards the doors as he opened one. Before he entered however, he looked over to her, clearing sensing her sudden unease. “Are you coming inside too or, do you wish to enjoy the outside air more?” He asked. Again, his tone was gentle yet you could see an almost teasing look in his eye as she stood there waiting for his response.

She didn’t hesitate however. Quickly, she knelt down, quickly stubbing the cigarette out as her other hand held her robe together tightly to keep modest before she stood up, and quickly went inside. Nodding at Pinocchio who averted his eyes to the ground to watch his step, once she was inside as he moved to follow, closing the door behind him.

#pinocchio x reader #lies of p #lies of p x reader #made him a little sassy lol #kadajsbitchlol #not proofread #I’ll edit it later to fix any typos lol #currently is four in the morning

[foxbroart]

started coloring it 🫧

If you like my work, consider supporting me:

Commissions are open!/  leave a tip! / Links!

#wip #procreate #fxb art #artists on tumblr #seo changbin #it’s not looking like him anymore lol #I’ll need to fix that #also if you’re on pc and the colors look weird sorry #I always edit it on pc before posting from procreate because the colors get desaturated

[mattodore]

therapy dog

#river dipping #matthias evanoff #echthroi #ts4 #ts4 edit #👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 gay ppl here you go #one day i’ll revisit the muzzle pose i made… am lazyyy tho #matthias likes muzzles and gags but has no interest in ears or tails. at least not on himself. so ignore the ears… or don’t 🤷 #don’t go to him for therapy btw he will tell you to [redacted] yourself #i have more screenshots of him in this muzzle + collar combo but i didn’t feel like editing them this morning along with this one #when i’m at my desktop again i’ll reblog with some regular screenshots 👍 #i need to make my own cas poses for matthias already bc i just use these same poses every time lmfaooo #i wish i could remember which cas pose had him kneeling… it’s my favorite one but i didn’t have the patience to find it yesterday #like i was Spiralling and was just trying to feel better by looking at my ocs #which. tbf did work a little bit sadly didn’t fix me </3 #actually feeling more normal now tho #going to rewatch the passenger 2023 dir. carter smith starring kyle gallner and johnny berchtold 😁 #and then i think i’m gonna. read. maybe. or write. maybe. #maybe recolor some shirts for theo’s club wardrobe based on some of my favorite brian molko looks #maybe… actually look at my activity and inbox and stop isolating…… maybe. #idk….. we’ll see #time to go crazy over randy bradley everyone give me some space

[possiblyfunny]

Oh look, another art piece-

He a little confused, but he got the spirit

WOO! After getting confirmation on details about the character, I finally allowed myself to draw this! It was originally going to be a mini comic, but I just decided to draw the last panel with a lot more detail.

Blue belongs to @creatively-cosmic. They have an Ask Blog by the name of @themissingnumbers, so go check them out! Their content is great!

Aster belongs to me.

[Extras and whatnot below the cut!]

[Extra Bonus!:

If you actually looked under the cut, you get to be blessed with a little nugget of information about Aster!

Aster doesn’t know jack about sexuality or gender identity (don’t worry, he’s learning!) But what he does know are the colors! Aster can tell you what colors or flag represents which sexuality/gender—but he couldn’t actually tell you about them. He doesn’t know what each of them mean.

Lots of people in his life and around his home have little desk flags or wear pins with different gender identities or sexuality’s on them, so he knows that it isn’t a bad thing. He thinks all the colors are pretty and unique and should be supported and celebrated!]

[Also, for those curious, here’s the symbolism for each flower. I wasn’t the most confident in drawing some of them, but I did my best to pick good ones!:

Blue Morning Glory: Encouragement, Power, Enduring Love

Pink Roses: Appreciation, Recognition, Happiness

White Daffodil: Rebirth, Good Fortune, Resilience.]

#This took all of my energy for today lmao- #I’m so happy that i could draw this after the idea was chilling in my head for the better part of a month #I know we haven’t met him yet In Missing Numbers #but I had to #Plus he’s my second favorite #Had to make up for all the Fire fanart somehow haha #Please excuse any mistakes in the actual art I’m running on hopes and dreams over here- #My wrist hurts but I’ll be okay #The art is worth it! and so is Blue! #Also yes the art name is a pun #EDIT: went back and fixed some coloring mistakes everything should be good now :) #Aster is an ally #He will be your friend no matter who or what you are #Everyone is a potential friend to Aster! #(He just so happens to get along the best with any Blue variants he comes across-) #(What can he say—It’s programmed in him.) #[I just realized that I’ve unintentionally made Aster a way to interact with the main cast of Missing Numbers-] #[Whoops!]

[tinned-beef]

FIVE GIRLIES WE WON

#girlies being gender neutral of course #i’ll draw him better in a bit i just wanted to scribble this one out #the umbrella academy #tua #tua s4 #aidan gallagher #my doodles #my rambles #edit: just realized my picture was crusty…. uh i’m fixing it now

[infinite---hyperdeath]

finally made an ultrakill blog

ultrakill yayyy woooo woohooo hoorayyyy yippiee wooo yeahhhh pumps fists in air wooooooo

#im gonna try to maintain a tagging system #vp.texts #? for text posts like this ?/?? #vp only because that the name of my 1st ultrakill oc v-p i love him very much #named the blog after act 1 bc i couldn’t think of a creative name #i spent so long trying to edit the theme for this blog #like the custom profile yk 😭 #im tired it 3 am #why did i start making this blog late at night waaahhh #anyways trying to get the music to work was the hardest part i have a small brain #this blog will get exactly 6 posts before i forget i need to keep posting about things #on the blog theme i put a drawing of v-p this makes me go yippieee !!!!!!!! yipppoipieeeeee !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! thumbs up emoji #i still need to fix the blog theme so i’ll be doing that.. to the best of my ability #need to say that this whole time from creation of this blog to now i’ve been fighting against the effects of melatonin #raaaagh

[twistedappletree]

Anyway, I put my jewelry inheritance headcanon into my junior!sect leader fic 🥺✨

#fic musings #mdzs #jin ling #qin su #also a personal headcanon of mine that JL and QS had a cute nephew/aunt relationship when JL was growing up #I know some people HC that she’d resent him but not meeeee #also gives me the perfect excuse to use my jewelry HC so LOL #also JC is named here bc it’s actually the beginning of the fic #and just saying uncle could mean anyone #like literally anyone it could mean Lanling’s local baker tbh lmfaooo 😭💀💀 #subject to change during editing #already see mistakes actuallyyyyy but I’ll fix ‘em later #fic wip #oh and yes I HC that sect leader Jin Ling wears SO much jewelry #he likes to be shiny~ ✨😌✨

[starlooove]

Some of y’all forget the canon fodder is supposed to be canon fodder

#yall acting like that loa thing means tim doesn’t care for human life or is neutral about killing #it’s the same argument as Bruce doesn’t kill ppl but he beats them till they bleed out #first of all convo that’s been had In universe #and second of all. idk how to say this #like how to word it #but like. it’s like if someone spoke about how Bruce’s parenting exacerbates so many of the other bats interpersonal issues #and someone responded with ‘Bruce can’t be a bad parent bc he’s nice to civilians all the time and hugged each of his kids at least twice!’ #like. ok. and. #that doesnt negate what he’s doing or what the narrative is choosing to focus on #sorry this is about tim #i hate the convo that tim is chill with killing bc it’s just. more giving him characterization that’s not really there #as far as I remember the blowing up the base wasn’t treated with any narrative importance #and #yknow what I’m gonna draft this and I might fix it later I’m rambling #or I’ll post as is in a draft dump idk #anyways if editing; point out how the lack of care towards those assassins is rooted in racism #and unfortunately they’re not seen as human beings worth mourning or worrying about killing for by the narrative #and through extension they’re not worth mourning or debating the code about to tim #technically logically we know ppl had to have died #within the narrative tho they don’t matter and using that to explain Tim’s utter apathy just looks bad when u realize they don’t matter not #just bc they’re background characters but bc they’re evil brown background characters #it’s the weight of dick beating the joker to death vs the weight of dick prolly scrambling some goons brains with the escrima stick #and tbh taking it fully seriously and debating how it might be to tim would be fine #if this wasn’t just used as another ‘tim is so badass!’ w/o actually exploring his character and how this may impact it #it’s like if they said Bruce doesn’t actually care about his killing code bc he’s prolly killed ppl by beating them before #maybe technically but not narratively! and that’s bc background characters (some of the time. don’t be stupid) are not really ppl #it’s like that ‘getting shot by the sniper so the main character knows there’s a sniper’ trend #getting beat silly by Batman so the audience knows how tough he is #but with no regards to realistic damage #getting blown up by Red Robin so the audience knows how cool is

[aletherancaspar]

oh?

#him #i’ve been #working on this art for a MONTH #and today i finally got the #strength to finish #let it not be said that muse luck isn’t effective #i’ll #fix it when i wake up i think #edit after waking up: #i love this i love him i love the universe #i showed muse to my ex bf and he said that muse looks like an average punjabi guy #AVERAGE??????? MY MUSE???? ARE YOU INSANE #i’m never going to meet ex bf again. dosti cancel #@enbyly suggested that this could be a particular… form of muse #but in my heart that variant is very vulnerable and cute #this is the original goods :D #someone probably pushes him in a pool; pool guy #i love him #pata hai. whenever i post him i always want to add a quote from a song too #but it’s hard to translate 😩😩😩 by the time i’m done i’m either sick of the lyric or think the lyric is a Bit Much #for this song i wanted to use; from Neray Neray Vas: #that i keep looking on and on upon your face / come; sit by me; let me coax you

[asexual-juliet]

do you leave smash out of all your fnl posts on purpose or?..........

no i’m literally just a fucking idiot

#i literally never realized this my bad #i will go back and edit the name meanings one but i don’t have it in me to dig through carrie underwood lyrics right now for the other one #i’ll edit that soon though #i literally dont know how i forgot him on both of those wtf #i haven’t watched in fucking forever i usually just do a yearly thanksgiving ep rewatch #also PLEASE lmk if i left him out on any other posts i’ll fix them #i feel so bad about this 😬😬😬 #i think he started doing steroids and i immediately said “this is fucking dumb” and he left my radar #my bad #fnl #friday night lights #smash williams #ask #anon

[joelsgreys]

flutter

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner. 

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair. 

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?” 

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten. 

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home. 

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains. 

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

#tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: snapshots

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (1) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: My first Rafe fic :)

word count: 4.4k

In which Rafe finds a "healthy" outlet for dealing with his daddy issues.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

Rafe finally felt he deserved to be back at Tannyhill. The house had remained empty over the last five years, Sarah wanted little to do with her real family anymore, Rafe made the tough decision to send Wheezie to a boarding school in Georgia and now she was starting college there. Rafe had cleaned up his act and gotten clean, mostly clean, and managed to save Cameron Development from complete ruin. 

As soon as the police were off his tail, and he’d brought back some legitimacy to the Cameron name, he could develop the true relationships he needed to become unstoppable. It started with Barry, then gangsters from the mainland, and then Rafe's gained connections with the cartels. He then rebuilt the empire the Camerons once had in the Bahamas and now he owned ten times the amount of properties they used to own there. 

He could achieve everything Ward never could have. He could be better a man than his father ever could. 

After half a year in Nassau, Rafe was finally back in Kildare, and he had plans to make Tannyhill the ultimate fortress. He had finally acquired the last missing piece of his American dream – you. He eyed you in his rearview mirror, passed out in the backseat of his truck, before parking in front of the huge, white house. 

There were already white moving trucks parked nearby, men in black clothing unloading new furniture he’d purchased and “merchandise” he’d acquired from the Caribbean Don he’d been working with. That Don is who he purchased you from, picking you out in a lineup of twenty girls. 

The Don clapped his hands together before he said, “Just tell me which ones you would like to have a closer look at. I’ll have them stand and turn for you. If you have something in mind — perhaps a certain skin tone, curviness, hair color, I can make a suggestion.”

Rafe responded that he didn’t have a preference and that he would know you were the one when he saw you. 

Looking through one-way glass, Rafe noticed aspects of each girl, including the tiredness behind their eyes and the elegance at which each of them moved their bodies. The Don had each girl stand and spin for him. There was not a single falter or misplaced step until Rafe saw you. When it was time for you to spin, you almost tripped over your own foot. You fixed yourself quickly and fixed your gaze forward however, Rafe noticed your eyes began to wander. It felt like you were looking right at him. Like you could see him. 

“One of my favorites,” He said in thick Creole, “She’s quite an angel if you’re looking for someone who’s a little tamer. Good hips, natural hair, the breasts and ass are real too. I’m sure you’ll notice. For you, since you’re a friend, fifteen thousand for the whole night.” 

The Don wanted Rafe to become a new investor in his trade and possibly bring girls to Kildare in order to expand his clientele. He wanted to impress Rafe, and let him have a night with one of his well-trained girls, although Rafe was looking to make a final purchase. 

He hadn’t had a real conversation with you yet, he was in such a hurry to get back to the States that he had to keep you drugged for the time being. It would be better this way, he convinced himself, since he would be able to have the house ready before you came to. He got out the truck before opening the back door. Although you stirred slightly in your sleep, Rafe knew he wouldn’t wake you as he pulled you across the seat and wrapped you in his arms. Bridal style, he carried you up the patio and through the front doors. 

An elaborate security system now kept track of everyone coming and going from the house. He had so much more than his father ever would have, but that also meant he had so much more to lose. He was a different man than the last time he was here. Much more mature. He used to throw meaningless parties so he could appear well-known, favorited by all, and hook up with girls who only cared about getting free drugs from him. This time things would be different. 

“Hey, hey, careful with that!” Rafe barked at one of the men carrying a white tea table that he’d spent thousands on.  He was attempting and failing to carry it and the two matching chairs that it came with. Rafe should’ve known what quality movers he was getting when he let Barry put his men on the job, “You think I’m paying you to break my shit?”

Rafe carried you up the winding stairs of his childhood home, imagining you feeling like this place was yours, just as much as he did. He thought he’d feel slightly more melancholy, looking at the familiar yellow walls, the elegant chandeliers, and period furnishings. Instead, he felt a weight lifted off of him. Your bedroom was one of the old guest rooms, only a few doors down from the master, and unlocked with his fingerprint. 

The large room was freshly painted white, a twin-sized canopy bed was placed on the farthest wall, and Rafe placed you on top of the cloud-like comforter. You were still wearing one of his button-ups and a pair of his briefs that fit you more like shorts, Rafe not having had the time to dress you in the way he actually wanted to.

“Put it over in that corner, carefully,” He spoke to the mover carrying the table, although his eyes were focused on you. 

“Mr. Cameron-”

“You’re dismissed. Tell Barry I’m expecting him tonight at nine.” 

As the man turned to leave, Rafe quickly followed to shut the door behind him. He took another glance around the room, deciding that the table set was the perfect edition. He could bring you your breakfast there in the morning and, who knows, maybe you’d come to like the expensive tea set he also bought you. 

Rafe spent a good amount of time just watching you sleep and obsessively thinking about what might he say to you when you awoke. His anxious thoughts didn’t go away when he stopped doing drugs, they worsened in fact, but you were his new medium to focus on. You were healthy for him. 

He spent all the time he had between his meeting with Barry, caring for you, “Daddy’s going to take care of you,” He brought you to the bathtub and gently scrubbed you clean, shaving all the areas he preferred to be hairless, even taking the time to braid your hair so that it was out of your face. He quite liked you like this, like his very own doll, someone he could mold into a perfect Kook princess. Women in the real world often perplexed him, especially women like Sarah, who took the luxuries they were provided for granted. 

You’d appreciate everything that Rafe could offer you, he knew that, and you’d be obedient as well. He brought you back to the main room once you were dried, and clean and your skin was moisturized and scented with vanilla. He laid you on the soft carpet in front of your bed and dressed you in a white nightgown and then took his time rolling white knee socks up your leg. 

He could take his time, pacing himself, as he ran his fingers over every inch of you. He’d been rock hard ever since he undressed you originally, and he debated whether to take a quick sample of you. 

You have plenty of time, Rafe, he reminded himself. 

His phone vibrated a short while later after he tucked you back into bed, and he clicked the notification. Video of the driveway appeared on the screen, and Rafe saw Barry climbing from his car, “Daddy will be back very soon,” He spoke although you couldn’t hear, placed a kiss on your forehead although you couldn’t feel it, and shut the door quietly although you wouldn’t wake. 

As soon as Rafe opened the front door, Barry was already shouting, “Country Club! How you been, man?” Rafe’s hand was already out to shake his. Truthfully, and sadly, Rafe would consider Barry his oldest friend. “You happy about all the money I’ve been making you?”

“Thrilled,” Rafe spoke sarcastically, leading Barry to his father’s old office. He thought back to the days when he had to creep through this room and steal because Ward didn’t trust him. Now, it was all his, “Speaking of …”

Swiftly, Barry pulled a roll of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and dropped it in Rafe’s hand. Leaning against the oak desk, Rafe began to count, “That’s what I got for the boats. Those cars are going to take a little bit longer to sell.”

“And why’s that?”  

“Those cars are classics, man, so I have a little bit of a bidding war going on,” Barry explained.

“I said I wanted them moved quickly,” Rafe sighed. He needed to get rid of as many of his father’s old things as possible if he wanted this place to be really his. 

“I’ll get you everything by the end of the week,” Rafe nodded, continuing to flip through the bills,  although normally this would be about the time he’d throw a tantrum, “So … heard you got yourself a beautiful girl-”

“Your guys run their mouths.”

“But it’s true?” Barry flashed his gold tooth, “You whipped, Country Club?”

Rafe opened the safe behind the tall bookcases, punched in the code, and safely tucked away the twenty-thousand dollars. 

“Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t let you anywhere near her anyways.”

Barry scoffs, “That breaks my heart, Rafe. I’m tired of these Pogue girls and the mainland chicks are even worse. In the old days, we used to share. You won’t help a brother out?”

Rafe smirked, “Like you said, that was the old days.” 

You felt weighed down by whatever you were lying underneath, your eyelids were so heavy it took you a full minute to blink them open. You moved each limb slowly, trying to get blood flowing through them again. You saw sunlight reflecting off porcelain walls and felt creamy soft blankets enveloping you. You should feel comforted. 

Pushing away the blankets holding you down, you pulled yourself up, strong enough to get onto your hands and knees. You stepped off the platform, off the bed, touching your toes against soft carpet but quickly your legs gave out. You whined as your knees hit the ground, surely bruising your skin, and let yourself fall back on your bottom. 

Something fell down with you and turning your head slightly you found a teddy bear. You grabbed it by its arm, examining its chestnut fur and the pink bow tied around its neck. What? That was the question forming in your mind. You looked back at the bed you’d fallen out of and your eyes darted around the room. Three doors, a wall with big windows and long curtains, a table with chairs, a toy chest, a tall armoire, and a bookcase. This room did not belong to you, even in your wildest dreams, you’d never been somewhere so nice. 

You noticed details in the wallpaper; small pink flowers decorated each wall, and white trim lined all the edges. All the furniture was white as well with elegant designs, and your original thought was that you must be in a castle. 

You attempted to stand again and managed to get straight up on your wobbling legs until there was a small click, and the door began to open. You quickly stumbled back before you were sitting back on top of the mattress. 

“You’ll go with Mr. Cameron now. To America,” Master said, “And you’ll remember your manners, won’t ya? Don’t want to end up like your friend.”

Mr. Cameron stood in front of you now. You remembered him being tall, but you didn’t remember feeling so small in front of him. With hands holding a tray in front of him, his mouth parted as his blue eyes raked over your figure. 

You gripped the comforter tightly as he stepped closer, “You’ll have to take it easy,” He said first, walking over to that small table and placing the tray down, “Let me help you.”

When he came towards you, he held out both of his hands. You felt like you usually did, terrified, but there was always a voice in the back of your head telling you to obey. There would be worse pain than a bruised knee if you didn’t do as Mr. Cameron said. You grabbed ahold of his hands, allowing him to help you up before his hands moved to your hips as he steadied you. 

“How do you feel?” He asked, a genuineness in his tone that you weren’t expecting. 

Your lips parted and you realized you hadn’t spoken in so long. You also hadn’t had anyone ask you that question in a long, long time, “I’m … okay,” You spoke quietly as he searched your face. He was staring so intently that you grew insecure, turning your eyes away. 

“I brought breakfast,” He began to guide you over to the table. You took slow steps, one in front of the other, holding onto him tightly when you felt you might fall. He set you gently down in the chair before taking the seat opposite you. You could see out the windows from this seat, your eyes finding a long dock and the ocean. When he cleared his throat, your eyes snapped back to his, “I’m not much of a cook but there’s a lady who works for me …she makes great pancakes, french toast, anything you could want really.”

You stared down at scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and a pancake with a chocolate chip smiley face and a whipped cream nose. He started to pour you a glass of water, pushing it towards you, “Drink something,” He said, “You’ve been sleeping for a long time.”

You were really thirsty, you realized, and you took the glass he poured for you. When he didn’t pour himself one, a question rose in your mind, “Will this … make me sleep again?”

He immediately shook his head, “No, no. Drink, please.”

You were thankful, welcoming the nourishment. As you devoured the glass of water, he began to cut up the pancake into small pieces. You watched his concentrated face as he meticulously poured the syrup. Your mind didn’t stay on his interesting behavior because you were focused on eating next. 

“My name is Rafe,” He said, “But you’ll call me Daddy.”

You paused, your mouth full of pancakes, “Okay? Nod yes if you understand,” He added. 

You nodded your head, starting to chew again, and a smile seemed to pull at his lips. That’s what he must like all his girls to call him. “Good, that’s rule number one …This is your room, from now on. I’ll show you around the house after you settle in more. For now, you need permission to leave this room. Yeah?”

Again, you nodded, before swallowing your food. Rafe reached across the table with a napkin, wiping syrup from your chin, “I’m sorry,” You said, feeling embarrassed. 

“No need to apologize,” He assured you, “From now on, I’m going to take care of you.”

Take care of you. You weren’t positive about what he meant. 

Your hands moved to your lap, “Can I ask … how many girls you take care of?” 

His head tilted, and he seemed amused, “Just you, sweet girl.”

“This whole room is just for me?”

“Yes, and this whole house will be just for us,” He answers, “Here, that reminds me. I was going to wait until dinner but . . . I can’t wait.”

You watched as he reached into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out a silver necklace with a beautiful, pearl pendant. Still, you found yourself struggling to wrap your head around what was going on. Rafe stood, coming closer in order to put the necklace around your neck. You heard a small click before Rafe pulled his fingers away. Your fingers reach up to feel the pearl, “You’ll always keep this on. Okay?”

You nodded. 

“Tell me.”

“I’ll always keep it on … Daddy,” You remembered to add. Something lit up in his eyes, and he took your chin in his hand and tilted it up further. 

“Smart girl, Bambi,” He stated, “That’s what I’ll call you.”

You nodded, although you weren’t sure why he picked it for you. It was better than “whore” or “slut” which seemed to be Master’s favorites. Bambi sounded … cute, which certainly wasn’t a way you would describe yourself, “Daddy … why …all of this, uhm, for me?”

“You’ll have everything I want you to have. And Daddy wants the best for you, understand?”

“Y-Yes, uhm … thank you.”

“C’mere, let me give you a tour of the room” He gripped underneath your arms, helping you stand. The human closeness, his warmness, wasn’t something you were expecting. You couldn’t fully let your guard down though, you were still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“It’s good to have, uh, a routine,” Rafe explained, before showing you every item in the room. He clearly had been involved in picking everything out which you didn’t expect,  “You’ll wake up by eight, make your bed every morning. . . your dirty laundry will go here and all your clothes are in here, if I have something specific picked out for you to wear, I’ll hang it here, you won’t wear any panties when you’re dressing for bed …and here’s the bathroom,” When you saw yourself in the mirror for the first time, your eyes widened in disbelief. Your hair was neatly braided, white bows wrapped at the end of each braid, and the nightgown made you look like . . . a doll. In the mirror, you could see Rafe lean his mouth down to your ear, “Do you like what you see?”

“I look …I think I look pretty, Daddy.”

“You do, sweet girl; that’s why I chose you.”

This was right. Rafe couldn’t have made a better decision choosing you. He had more rules to introduce you to but didn’t want to overwhelm you. He left you to brush your teeth while he took your tray of food back to the kitchen. When he returned, he found you peeking inside the toy chest, letting the top shut a little too loudly after he seemed to frighten you, ‘It’s okay, all these things are for you. I wasn’t exactly sure what you might like.”

He kneeled down with you as you took a look inside. There were quite a lot of stuffed animals, some puzzles, coloring sets, and some dolls. “My, uh, my sister Sarah, she used to love American Girl dolls. Have you ever heard of those?” You shook your head, picking up one that was dressed like an 80’s aerobic instructor, “They have all types of dolls. I should order you one that looks more like you.”

Rafe noticed you perk up at that. “One that looks like me?” 

Your reaction made him chuckle, “Yeah, why not? If you want anything at all, you can just ask me,” Rafe could tell you didn’t believe him, although you still nodded in agreement, “I know you can’t be entertained forever by these things, but it’s better for your brain than watching TV all day. And we can watch movies together.”

“That would be nice-” Rafe leaned in to kiss you, his intrusive thought winning after staring at your lips. Rafe was surprised by how gentle it was and how gentle he still wanted to be with you. You were reacting so well to everything, he didn’t want to take the chance of ruining this. When he pulled away, you immediately started to lift your nightgown, attempting to expose yourself to him.

“You don’t have to do that,” Rafe gently grabbed your hand, pulling it away from your dress. 

“I thought you wanted me …”

“ I do, I definitely do,” Rafe laughed awkwardly, “Let’s wait a little while longer. I want to undress you myself.”

You nodded eagerly, “But I … I could use my mouth?”

Rafe couldn’t believe someone could sound so innocent even while they were offering to give a blowjob, “Not before I taste you first, sweet girl.” Sexually, Rafe liked to be in complete control. He’d decide when they were ready, what positions, and who tasted who. His mind was starting to wander a little too far. He needed to remain composed for the time being, “For now, I want you to play. I need to work for a few hours, but I will bring you lunch, and we’ll eat together, okay?”

“Okay…thank you, Daddy,” You agreed, and Rafe happily placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“You’re welcome, Bambi.”

Rafe tried to concentrate on work, he had a million things to arrange now that he was back in Figure 8, but his eyes would wander to the live footage on his computer screen from Bambi’s bedroom. She spent a while going through the toys he bought for her, and then she neatly made up the bed, before deciding on the American Girl dolls. Next thing Rafe knew, he was in virtual meeting with his Cameron Development team but was actively scrolling through the American Girl doll website in another tab. 

Like he promised, Rafe took a break in the middle of the day to each lunch with you. Lana, Tannyhill’s newest household manager, prepared grilled sandwiches. Rafe joined you by the window seat where you had made yourself comfortable with two of the dolls and your teddy bear. You asked about Figure 8, of course, and Rafe gladly gave you the basics. 

That night, after dinner was enjoyed, Rafe laid beside you in bed. You chose a book to read together, a chapter book called Bridge to Terebithia, “I have to admit, I’m not much of a reader. But this should be easy enough, right?”

“When you were little, did you always have …this?” You asked, a few pages of reading later, “Books and clothes and seats by the window.”

“I guess I did, yeah,” Rafe answered, “It was not all rainbows and sunshine, though.”

“Your father, was he like Master?”

“Yeah, basically. He was not a good man,” Rafe closed the book, turning his eyes to you “And he’s not your Master anymore, okay? It’s me and you now. Just me and you.”

You tilted your head, nuzzling more into the pillow, “If I’m bad, you won’t send me back?”

“No, not ever,” Rafe said steadfastly. 

“You’ll punish me?”

Your words made him pause, and he could sense your worry, “I’m not going to hurt you, not in any real way,” Rafe’s hands found your waist, he gripped the bare skin beneath your nightgown, before his fingers roamed over your bottom, “You know how to be a good girl, right?”

You nodded, staring back, “Then you have nothing to worry about,” Rafe kissed you again, this time deeply and with the purpose of fully tasting you. He squeezed your bottom tight, pulling your front further against him so he could buck his hips against you. The book fell unread and to the wayside as Rafe roamed his hands over you. 

He should wait, he told himself. It was only your first day here, but you were all that he had been waiting for. The idea that he could have you anytime, anywhere, and anyway he wanted you excited him more. A moan escaped you, and Rafe knew you were overwhelmed with the sensations, but he liked the idea of you feeling too much. He wanted fear in your eyes, fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him, and then he wanted you to fully surrender to him. 

Rafe buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking until you cried out. Rafe knew you were a good girl because you had obediently gotten into bed for the night without your panties. He wrapped a strong arm around your back, easily flipping you onto your back. Rafe pulled away, breathing heavily, as he looked down at you. 

“You okay, sweet girl?” Rafe asked, noticing your eyes were still closed. As you nodded, Rafe said, “Open your eyes for me.”

Rafe parted your legs further, reaching down to feel between your lips. Gently, he stroked up and down, feeling wetness at your entrance, “Tell Daddy how you like it.”

“I . . .” As he dipped a finger inside, your eyes shut again, squeezing tightly. This was a look of pleasure, Rafe noted, “Daddy-ah!”

“I think you want it gentle, hmm,” His index finger moved in and out slowly as his thumb caressed your clit, “I can be gentle, don’t worry.”

Rafe moved painfully slow, watching how every movement of his would change your facial expression. Once you were squeezing around his fingers and soaking the sheets, Rafe pulled down his sweatpants. He pressed his length against your entrance, watching your face as he pushed inside. You took a breath of air, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he slowly eased his way in and out. 

He pressed his body closer to you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his back, and he tucked his head beside yours, his breath caressing your ear. He was gentle like he said, but he had to test your limits and see how deep he could go. Your whimpers told him what he needed to know and he felt your nails begin to dig into his back.

“Daddy, d-daddy, daddy,” You moaned his name, sounding a bit delirious as you repeated it over and over. 

Rafe rocked harder against you, “Tell me. Say thank you for saving me Daddy.” 

“Thank you–” Your voice came out barely above a whisper but Rafe could hear your small voice in his ear, “Thank you for saving me, Daddy.” Your hips writhing beneath him, needing more of him, was the final thing that sent Rafe flying towards the edge of the cliff. 

He wanted to focus, to make himself last longer, but he needed you in that moment. His thrusts became shorter, and he sank deeper inside of you as he reached his peak, “Jesus,” Rafe gasped as you squeezed him tightly, your warmness pulsed around him, “Fuck.” 

He resisted his desire to stay inside of you forever, pulling out and slumping beside you. Rafe’s eyes were wide, and he found himself staring at the ceiling for a moment to process what happened. 

“Was that . . . good?” Your voice brought him back down to reality.

“Perfect, sweet girl,” Rafe took you in his arms, and you cuddled into his chest. Again, he whispered, “Jesus.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

Part 2

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks #dark!rafe cameron #black!reader #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #obx fic #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction

[taegimood]

mj!! i just saw a tiktok thats like "check ur tone before talking to my girl / watch how u talking to her" and neow i need urbig brained delicious thoughts (sfw or nsfw idc!) on possesive/protective!txt !!!!! 🧎🧎

omfg help… instant wet panties 😵‍💫 i hope this is what you had in mind~

edit: y’all i’m CACKLING at these responses i PROMISE it’s not btob minhyuk in soob’s 💀 i just used the first name that came to my mind HAHAHSKSNJ

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yeonjun would not HESITATE.. you’d be at a party together, splitting off for a bit to hang with your respective friends; as protective as he is, he knows you can handle yourself so he’s not immediately racing over when he sees the guy that approaches you.. though his eyes might as well be burning little fires into the guy’s head from the way he’s staring across the room. he’s keeping an eye on his every move, unbeknownst to you; you’re just minding your business, chatting with your friends, and this rando is getting a little too close for comfort, talkin bout sum “why don’t you pay more attention to me instead ahaha” and it’s when you reject his continual advances that his face sours and the name-calling starts. “don’t be such a bitch, you’re lucky i’m even-“

“watch your fucking mouth before i shut it for you.” aaaand there’s yeonjun, seemingly coming out of nowhere. his hand is fixed in an iron grip on the guy’s wrist which had been extending towards you, staring him down — literally down, yeonjun’s height easily surpassing his — with every indication of “i’ll fuck your shit up if i have to” in his eyes. you can tell right away that the guy’s bark is much bigger than his bite as his own eyes are wide, attempting to yank his hand away to no avail, before yeonjun finally releases his grip a few moments later to watch him quickly retreat back into the crowd after some hastily-mumbled apologies. yeonjun scoffs and throws an arm around your shoulders, grumbling and eyeing the area as you just look up at him with a cocked brow and a growing smile, like hello how’d i bag such a baddie ??? him catching your stare and when you jokingly ask “jealous?” he’s rolling his eyes and grumbling about how no one can talk to his girl like that.. he sticks with you the rest of the night, getting extra grabby as you leave to go home — “gotta get your mind off of limpdick lee 🙄” — and you can imagine how the rest of the night goes when he’s determined to show you exactly how you deserve to be treated by a real man 🤤

soobin, bro.. you don’t even see it coming. usually your boyfriend gets pouty and grumpy when he’s jealous, more cute than anything, so you can’t even believe your eyes — or ears — when this time he actually gets scary. not scary for you; you’re just terrified for the other guy. this is the first time you’ve really seen him get so protective; you’d joined him for some schoolmate reunion party that he didn’t even wanna go to in the first place, grumbling about how awkward it would be (but then blushing and grinning to himself when you pointed out how awestruck everyone would become over his 100/10 visuals) and so here you are, his hand in yours as you walk around being introduced to his old classmates. it’s when he leaves you with a kiss on your cheek to go use the bathroom that it happens. you’re perusing the refreshment table, deciding which drink to grab for soobin, when this guy that’s been hanging around the table starts edging himself closer to you. you nearly jump out of your skin when you glance up to see him already staring from 3 feet away. this dude (whose icky school reputation you’re unaware of) becomes relentless in his “flirting”, talking about your body, trying to touch your hair, making you all-around uncomfortable as fuck until suddenly he stops mid-sentence and just stares up at something past your head like a deer in headlights. confused, you turn around and soobin is suddenly standing right behind you with the NASTIEST, MEANEST, most STEELY glare you’ve ever seen grace his pretty face. “minhyuk.” his voice instantly sends shivers up your spine (and down to your core). this ��minhyuk’ is already backing off with his hands up in surrender as soobin goes, “if you don’t walk the fuck away from her right now, i will make you regret it.” GAH DAMN…. GAH DAMN…. the way you jump his bones later is unreal i’m just sayin. minhyuk is quick to apologize and leave you alone while soobin is quick to grumble out a “we’re leaving” with an aggravated pout forming on his face, the one you know so well — but holy fuck is this about to be the roughest, yummiest, BEST sex that you’ve ever had.

beomgyu omfg 😭 he doesn’t even TRY to have any chill. you’re out shopping together and he’s already hanging all over you in the first place, ever the clingy baby, so when some guy has the AUDACITY to still come up and try hitting on you, beomgyu is not having it. you’re in the video game section arguing over which league of legends dlc you guys should download when you get home, you stopping to test out smash bros on the newest switch model while beomgyu’s got his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder and rocking you back and forth obnoxiously — “GYU YOU’RE MAKING ME DIZZY” “well pay attention to me!!! 😩” — and neither of you notice the store employee that had been lingering in the same aisle, restocking the controller shelf and sneaking glances in your direction. he makes his move when gyu gets distracted by something off to your other side, arms untangling from your waist as he leans over to take a look at the other shelf with one finger hooking mindlessly through your belt loop. “there’s actually a pretty cool new feature on that one, here lemme show you 😉” you’re standing there like 👁️👄👁️ when the voice that is not your boyfriend’s is suddenly all up in your space, this guy reaching past you from behind, going through some game settings that you’re not even paying attention to because why is this guy’s sweaty chest pressed up against my back?????? “what the fuck” aaand beomgyu has tuned back into the channel. lip curled and a 🤨 look on his face that he doesn’t even try to hide; you’re both standing there like the surprised pikachu meme for a second before the cogs start turning again. “dude. why are you touching my girl?” shouldering his way between you, arm protectively going around your waist again as he blocks the employee off with his large frame. the guy’s hands going up as he defends himself, “hey, she was asking for it.” THE WAYYYYY THAT BEOMGYU’S JAW WOULD DROP ??!?! “what the fuck did you just say?” ohhhhhhhh he’s mad now.. facing the guy while keeping you behind him, dude’s eyes widening as he realizes his mistake — “uh, i didn’t mean-“ “i don’t care what the fuck you meant, you don’t get to fucking talk to my girl like that, you piece of-” you have to DRAG him out of the store and he’s ranting the entire way, finally grabbing your face and kissing you firmly when you get to the car before grumbling “you weren’t asking for shit..” league of legends be damned, he’s fucking you good the second you get home.

taehyun….. 👁️👁️ is it hot in here already….? you guys don’t go clubbing often, but when you do, your boyfriend is like a blinking neon sign that reads “touch my girl and i’ll run you into the ground 😀.” he hates leaving you alone even for a second, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he doesn’t trust “all these fucking horndogs that wanna get with you.” his words, not yours. barely drinks anything at first cuz if he has to pee then he has to leave you alone 💀 eventually you convince him to be more chill, have some drinks, and you’re enjoying yourselves — pressed all up on him on the side of the dance floor 🤤 — until begrudgingly he finally excuses himself to the bathroom. you stay put, bopping your head along to the music as you sip at your drink, leaning against the wall to avoid getting knocked into by any dancing bodies. perhaps this backfires, however, when one of those bodies, fairly drunk and heading straight for you, cages you in with his arms before you can even process his intention. his breath reeks of alcohol as you flatten yourself as much against the wall as you can, eyes flitting nervously towards the direction of the bathrooms, praying taehyun will be quick as this manchild croons to you about how he’s been watching you all night and couldn’t wait to get you alone like this. “my boyfriend’s gonna fuck you up,” you mutter, and fuck him up he does. in a flash the guy is on the ground, reeling from the gut punch he just received, taehyun standing there with a terrifyingly calm look on his face. “what do you think you’re doing?” there’s a warning in his eyes, a warning that this bitch ignores as he stumbles to his feet, throwing all kinds of colorful words at the both of you, before stopping mid-tirade as taehyun steps forward calmly, gripping the guy’s collar in his fist as he stares down at him and says with gritted teeth, “you have 5 seconds to walk away before i shove my foot so far up your ass that you’ll be tasting leather. try touching my girl like that again and see what fucking happens.” the raging storm in his eyes paired with the level tone of his voice has your thighs squeezing together despite the situation, and when the man scurries away, you almost feel dizzy at the burning kiss taehyun gives you. muttering “we aren’t coming here again” as he immediately leads you out to the car, heading back home where the filthiest fuck of your life awaits you 😍

kai tends to get quiet when he gets jealous. his instinct being to close himself off more, becoming a careful observer rather than an outright confronter; which is why you’re taken so off guard by the open display of back the fuck off that he dishes out one day when you’re at a convention together. you’re exploring the different booths hand in hand, gushing over the merch tables and limited edition figurines, debating whether or not you should add to your shared plushie collection — when suddenly from behind you comes a low “damn, what a nice ass.” you almost don’t catch it at first. you almost don’t process that it’s being directed at you if not for kai freezing beside you, gaze snapping over his shoulder to the crusty man stood eyeballing you shamelessly. you’re both in shock for a moment until an uneasy feeling creeps over you, and kai can tell. “what did you just say?” your eyes flicker up to him and widen; you’ve never seen him look so serious. his tone is careful, but you can tell that he’s angry. the man is rolling his eyes and saying something like “i wasn’t talking to you, kid, was i?” as he reaches forward as if ready to tweak at your skirt with his fingers. you quickly back up into kai and his hand is flashing out at lightning speed to shove the man’s arm back. “you need to step away.” he’s firm now, holding his ground even as the man sneers at him and starts, “yeah? or what-“ “you need to step away right now before i fucking make you. do not try me.” you’re GOBSMACKED, is this really your sweet plushie loving boyfriend ??!!?!? whatever sexy protective spirit possessed him, you hope that it stays, because the man is visibly shaken even as he scoffs and leaves the booth behind. you turn to look up at your boyfriend whose brows are furrowed over dark eyes, and he’s quickly asking if you’re okay, asking if you want to leave, rambling out questions of concern that have you interrupting him with a simple statement: “i’m gonna suck you off so good later.” his face turns bright red as he stops functioning for a second before groaning and mumbling all these things about how you should be treated like a princess and an angel and.. let’s just say that you definitely feel like one later that night after he’s done with you <3

#ask mj ♡ #mj’s hard thoughts #txt #txt x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt thoughts #yeonjun thoughts #soobin thoughts #beomgyu thoughts #taehyun thoughts #huening kai thoughts #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #huening kai x reader #yeonjun #soobin #beomgyu #taehyun #huening kai #txt smut #taegimood #nonnie!

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Butter

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: What if Joel doesn't forget to buy himself a cake for his birthday? But by the time he remembers, all the bakeries in his neighbourhood are closed - except yours.

Warnings: No outbreak AU, pure fluff, mentions of baking and food, meet cute, some sexual tension but very mild stuff compared to my other fics, single dad!Joel being a sexy menace, reader has a nickname related to her job, reader has an accent similar to Joel, very lightly edited, not my best work, but I'm in my writing for fun era 💁🏻‍♀️

Word count: 3.6k

Notes: It's here! This was an exercise in speed writing, and just putting words to paper without overthinking anything. I really enjoyed writing this sweet little piece, this is dedicated to @psychedelic-ink who has been the biggest cheerleader for this idea since day one. Happy birthday to our favourite single dad who never lived through a cordyceps outbreak ❤️

September 26, 2003 was supposed to be a good day.

It’s Friday, after all. Not that the weekend is relevant to you anymore, with Saturdays and Sundays being the busiest days for business. But you have a date for once tonight, and you’re determined to enjoy it.

If you can get the goddamn security shutter to close, that is.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pull futilely at the bottom of the metal shutter with both hands, but it refuses to budge. You lament the sweat seeping through the fabric of the nice dress you changed into, the hem reaching almost indecent heights on the back of your thighs where it’s climbed up. And you don’t have to look at your reflection to know that stress has already smudged the edges of the eyeliner you hurriedly painted on as soon as you got the last customer out the door.

You can be forgiven for not noticing the wash of yellow headlights over the windows of the shop front and the sound of rolling tyres as a truck pulls up on the curb outside the bakery, until a gravelly voice pipes up behind you alongside hurried footsteps.

‘Ma’am, please tell me you’re still open.’

You tap on the ‘Closed’ sign through the window without turning around, determined to wrangle the shutter into submission. ‘Bad luck buddy, come back tomorrow. We open at nine sharp.’

‘No I can’t, I’m so sorry, but I need a cake now.’

Curiosity turns your head, and over your shoulder, you find a broad-shouldered man in a dark tshirt and casual jeans standing a respectful four paces away. Under eyebrows sloping downwards in a pleading angle that matches the slant of his moustache, his warm and imploring eyes are on you.

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go,’ you say. ‘Can you give me a hand?’

‘Look, I’ll do you one better. I’ll fix the shutter for you for free - if you sell me a cake.’

You purse your lips, the prospect of saving on what looks like an inevitable repair bill tempting. ‘You can fix it?’

‘I’m a contractor,’ he replies, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a battered looking wallet. ‘Here’s my card, if you think I’m bluffin’.’

Miller & Associates is printed in bold across the top, and underneath, is presumably his name and cell number. Glancing up at him, you say, ‘Look, Mr. Miller, I really want to help, but I’m late for a date, and I’m all sold out of cakes today -’

‘I’ll take anything you got. Cupcakes, cookies, whatever you have left,’ he cuts in, then apologises in quick succession, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I’m sorry to be so pushy - I’m not, usually - but I promised my daughter I’d bring something home, and by the time I remembered, this is the only place I could think of. Please.’

You feel the exact moment your resolve crack, and then fold like a goddamn lawn chair. What can you say, this contractor really knows how to work those puppy eyes, and you can never say no to a man who refuses to let their kid down. 

Especially when the man looks like this.

Shooting off a text to your date to push back your dinner plans, you nod towards the door. ‘Alright. C’mon in, Mr. Miller.’

‘Nice place you got here,’ he remarks politely, hovering by the entrance as the fluorescent lights flicker on, his manners impeccably southern. 

‘You don’t have to flatter me, I’ve already let you in,’ you joke, lips quirking at the way he flusters. ‘But I appreciate it. You been here before?’

When he smiles, you notice the corners of his eyes crinkle charmingly. ‘No, but I know I’ll be comin’ back.’

‘I wasn’t lying when I said I was out of ready-made cakes,’ you tell him, holding the door open to the kitchen so he can come in after you. ‘But I have some cake layers in the fridge so I can put together something fairly quickly.’

He ducks his head in a manner that tells you he’s not used to demanding things, and protests, ‘I don’t want to put you out. I meant it, if you just have some cupcakes or somethin’ -’

‘Listen, you promised your daughter a cake, didn’t you?’ you interrupt.

He shrugs. ‘Well, yeah I did -’

‘I’m guessin’ it’s for a birthday?’

He nods sheepishly. ‘It is.’

‘Well, as a baker, ‘mfraid I can’t let a cakeless birthday happen on my watch, Mr. Miller,’ you insist, opening the fridge door with a flourish. ‘Let’s see what we have here. Cake for three, I assume?’

‘Two, actually.’

Hopefully you’re as discreet as you think you are when your eyes drop to his left hand - his fourth finger is conspicuously ringless.

Interesting.

You hum, considering the mismatched options in your inventory. ‘It’s gonna be a bit of a Frankenstein’s monster of a cake, if you don’t mind. How does chocolate and vanilla layers with cookies and cream frosting sound?’

‘Sounds perfect,’ he answers without skipping a beat. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

You shake your head, hands full of cake rounds wrapped in cling film as you nudge the fridge close. ‘Please, call me Bri, Mr. Miller.’

‘And you can call me Joel,’ he says in return. ‘Is Bri short for somethin’?’

Laying the cakes on the work surface, you reply, ‘Yeah, Bri for brioche, like the bread. It's a silly nickname.’

The single dad surprises you with a low whistle. ‘Can’t say I saw that comin’.’

You grin. ‘You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Joel.’

You don’t often have an audience while baking, and you find yourself talking Joel through the steps while you prep everything for assembly.

Swirling a spatula through the tub of buttercream you made earlier that day, you explain, ‘I just need to whip up some of this frosting so that it’s nice and soft for putting the cake together. You wanna help me break up some Oreos so we can make it cookies and cream?’

‘I’m all yours, chef,’ he says, one corner of his mouth curling into a teasing smile that has no business warming the apples of your cheek as it does. ‘Just tell me what to do.’

While your Kitchenaid whirrs to life, whipping air into the buttercream, Joel wields a rolling pin, smashing a generous helping of Oreos into crumbs in a Ziplock bag. The almost exaggerated care with which he moves speaks to inexperience in the kitchen, and you muse that either his kid makes up for it in that department, or they live off takeout.

Eventually, he picks up the bag and looks at you in a question. ‘I think I’m done?’

You smile and tap the lip of the mixing bowl. ‘That’s perfect. Why don’t you tip in the crumbs straight in here?’

Before you can step back to allow him space, Joel’s taken two strides towards you, and his arm brushes your shoulder when he lifts the bag and tilts the contents into the frosting. He’s warm and solid, and damnit, he smells good - like sawdust and sweat.

The thought comes to you unbidden - what a man.

There’s a lull, and only when you feel the weight of eyes on you do you realise that you missed his question.

‘Did you say somethin'?’ you squeak, embarrassed.

‘I said, is this ok?’ he repeats, nodding at the mixing bowl.

You nearly stumble over your words. ‘Yes, yes it’s perfect.’

He watches you closely, a touch of concern in his brown eyes. ‘You ok there, honey?’

‘Yup,’ you chirp, far too cheerfully. ‘Just need to mix it all up now -’

If you had your wits about you, you would stir in the crumbs first and set the machine on low. But this man somehow stole said wits by sheer proximity to you, and you accidentally start the Kitchenaid on high, an indignant yelp escaping you when Oreo dust flies aggressively out of the bowl along with a splatter of white buttercream that lands squarely on the front of your dark knit dress.

‘Oh shit!’ you cry out, frantically turning off the mixer. ‘Shit shit shit!’

Over your panicked mantra, Joel is calmness itself. ‘Hang on, honey, I gotcha.’

He makes a beeline towards the sink, grabbing a tea towel and wets it under the tap with a bit of dishwashing liquid. It all screams competent single dad, and you find yourself staring at his unfairly large hand, mapped with thick veins, holding out the damp towel for you to take.

‘Thanks,’ you stutter self-consciously, the tips of your ears hot while swiping at the stain. ‘That was a rookie mistake. I promise I’m actually a good baker.’

He gives you a wink to put you at ease. ‘Don’t worry, I believe you.’

Starting over, the mixer hums as it gently incorporates the Oreos until the buttercream is a speckled grey and doubled in volume. ‘Looks like it’s ready. You wanna taste, Joel?’

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘D’ya have a spoon or somethin’ for me?’

‘You can use your fingers,’ you reply, and it's too late to take it back.

You feel the back of your neck heating up when he shoots you a meaningful look, just a touch of mischief in the tilt of his lips. 

‘Can I, now?’ he teases.

You try a nonchalant shrug that probably comes off as painfully awkward. ‘This batch is just for you, I won’t tell the health inspector if you don’t.’

Joel chuckles, his strong shoulders quaking. And so you watch, shamelessly, as he raises his right hand, index and middle fingers at the ready, before diving into the metal bowl, scooping up a generous dollop of buttercream. There’s a peek of his pink tongue when his plush lips part, and then he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a gratuitously loud moan, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

When he turns to you with a pained expression on his face, maintaining eye contact all the while licking an errant streak of frosting off the side of his middle finger, you gape at him for a whole five seconds before you manage to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Good?’ you barely manage to squeak.

‘You betcha, honey,’ he declares, then adds, ‘Mind if I double dip?’

He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know it, but a hot flush runs through your body and you swallow thickly. ‘You can do whatever you want, cowboy.’

You don’t think you’re imagining the wicked glint in his answering stare - you’re getting yourself into trouble, and don’t you know it. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to thwart your mind's dangerous descent into the gutter by changing the subject. ‘So, I can do somethin’ really snazzy that I think your daughter would like - do you know what a piñata cake is?’

He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dangerous.’

‘Hardly,’ you chuckle. ‘It’s a cake filled with sprinkles, so when you cut into it, it’s a sprinkles surprise!’

He lets out a playful sigh of relief. ‘As long as there’s no whackin’ involved, it’s good by me.’

You gesture at him to follow you across the room. ‘And here’s the fun part - you get to choose the sprinkles.’

Joel whistles at the reveal of your compulsively organised sprinkles cabinet, each shelf sorted by colour, shape and size. He quips, ‘Is this what the inside of your brain looks like, honey?’

You grin. ‘Pretty much. What’s your daughter’s name?’

‘Sarah.’

‘What colour does Sarah like?’

‘Any and all shades of pink.’

‘I can work with that.’

Now that everything is ready and waiting on the work surface, you pull out a lazy Susan and plonk a cake board on top of it, dusting your hands dramatically. ‘Alright, Joel. Ready for the magic to happen?’

Making himself comfortable next to you, he leans on his elbows, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the way his tshirt stretches and strains over his back. ‘Go ahead, I’m ready to be impressed, honey.’

Filling a piping bag full of the cookies and cream buttercream, you ask, ‘You wanna get your hands dirty?’

He raises his palms in surrender. ‘I’ll leave it to you, I don’t want to make you any more late for your date.’

You’re used to working with much bigger cakes, so this one doesn’t take you long. With a cookie cutter, you carve out a small circle from each cake round, then you stack and fill the layers with buttercream. After loading the shaft in the middle with all manner of pink sprinkles, you stopper the top with the cake cut-outs.

‘How old is Sarah turning today?’ you ask conversationally while you spin the cake around, smoothing on the crumb coat.

Joel looks up, surprised. ‘Oh, it’s my birthday today, not hers. ‘

‘Wait, what?’ you cry, throwing your hands up. ‘I made this cake with Sarah in mind - it will literally be vomiting pink sprinkles!’

‘I’m a girl dad. I like pink,’ shrugs Joel easily.

You huff, using an icing smoother to make sure the buttercream is even all over the cake. ‘I would pop the cake into the freezer to firm up before adding a final layer of frosting if I had the time, but this will have to do.’

‘It looks great,’ Joel assures you as you put the finishing touches to the cake, with buttercream swirls all around the top and a final baptism of sprinkles.

‘There, all done. Lemme box it up for you and this bad boy is ready to go.’

‘Amazin’, thank you so much,’ he grins. ‘Please, lemme do the washin’ up while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, Joel, you can’t,’ you protest, but he’s already grabbed the mixing bowl and all the bits and bobs stained with buttercream. ‘You’re the birthday boy!’

‘Least I can do,’ he shoots back over his shoulder, already halfway to the sink.

‘Well no, you promised to fix the security shutter for me, remember?’ you call after him.

‘Damn, I was hopin’ you’d forgotten about that.’

Joel cleans up with a practised air, humming under his breath as he waits for the water to heat up and the soap to lather. You watch him from the corner of your eye while you secure the cake inside the box, throwing in a birthday candle for good measure. You’ve just tied a nice ribbon around the cardboard box when he puts away everything in the drying rack and wipes his hands dry.

‘Didn’t expect you to be good at that,’ you tease, moving towards the door.

‘Sexist much?’ he jokes, no real bite in his retort. Then by way of explanation, he tells you, ‘I work late, so Sarah usually cooks and I wash up afterwards.’

‘Sounds like you guys make a good team.’

Joel helps with the lights and locks the door, and you stand to one side when he grabs the security shutter and forces it into submission by brute force. You can’t help but stare when the bottom of his tshirt rides up, revealing a soft sliver of belly underneath, his biceps bulging and back rippling as the shutter is finally forced shut in a metallic ripple.

You give him a smile. ‘Well, happy birthday, Joel.’

‘Thanks again for the cake.’ He looks around, as if looking for your car, but the sidewalk is empty except for his truck. ‘How are you gettin’ to your date?’

‘I was just gonna call a taxi.’

‘No, you ain’t,’ he nods towards his ride. ‘C’mon, I’ll give you a lift.’

‘Oh, no, it’s late, and you should be getting back to Sarah -’

‘I spoiled your date, so please, let me,’ he insists, holding the door open on the passenger side. Hop in.’

Joel takes the cake off your hands and puts it in the backseat carefully, putting the seat belt over it while you climb in. Glancing over your shoulder, you see toolboxes and newspapers on the floor, and it smells like paint and wood dust.

‘Sorry it’s a bit messy, occupational hazard,’ he apologises as he straps himself in. ‘So, where are we goin’?’

‘Do you know the steakhouse on Third Street?’

‘Vaguely,’ he replies, pulling smoothly away from the curb. ‘It sounds fancy.’

‘You been?’

‘Nope, I barely have time to go anywhere nowadays. It seems like I’m only ever in bed, or at work, or in my truck.’

You turn to smile at him, admiring the way his his thick fingers around the top of the steering wheel, making it look so small. ‘I feel you. Small business owner, am I right?’

‘I hear ya,’ he shoots you a smile. ‘So - what’s the deal with tonight? First date?’

‘Fourth, actually.’

He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively. ‘Fourth date? You know what happens on a fourth date, honey.’

‘I don’t, actually. Tell me, what happens on a fourth date?’

He blows out his cheeks, and admits, ‘Honestly, I can’t tell ya. I haven’t been on a fourth date since 1991.’

You burst into laughter at his unexpected answer. ‘You’re such a dork, Joel Miller.’

When the truck rumbles to a stop outside the steakhouse ten minutes later, he looks at his watch and announces, ‘Here we are, only fifteen minutes late.’ Squinting through the windshield, he points at a man smoking outside, an impatient frown on his face. ‘That him?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ you nod, but you stay put in your seat, in no hurry to make a move.

Joel nods, tapping his tidily trimmed nails on the steering wheel. ‘So I’ll swing ‘round tomorrow after work with my toolbelt? ‘Round six thirty?’

‘A toolbelt? What a sight to look forward to,’ you rib, slowly reaching for the seatbelt and unbuckling it.

‘Hell yeah, it’s got a special clip for my Nokia and all,’ he adds mischievously.

'You must fend off the ladies by the dozen,' you tease.

'Daily,' he answers without skipping a beat.

You probably shouldn’t have, especially not with the guy who you’re supposed to be on a date with glaring daggers at you through the windshield. But there’s something cackling in the air between you and this man you just met not an hour ago, and the way the streetlight filters through the window, backlighting his messy curls and scraggly beard, that has you throwing caution to the proverbial wind.

Impulsively, you lean across the gear shift, your left hand finding purchase on his knee before pressing your lips to the side of his whiskered jaw, your kiss fitting right into that little heart-shaped patch on his beard. 

You’re not sure who’s more taken aback, but you don’t have time to find out. 

‘Happy birthday, Joel Miller.’

He smiles after you as you hop out of his truck.

You’ve just sold your last cupcake of the day when the bell over the bakery door rings. And sure enough, it’s Joel Miller crossing the threshold, right on the dot at six thirty.

‘Hey, Bri,’ he waves, hovering half-in and half-out of the shop, a slight awkwardness having set in overnight.

But it's ok, you're happy to pick up where you left off. Putting your hands on your waist and a cheeky grin, you quip, ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding about that toolbelt, huh?’

Your chest swells as you watch him thaw with an easy smile, and he banters back, ‘I’m a man of my word, honey. You ok with me gettin’ to work now?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll be cleanin’ up back in the kitchen, I’ll join you when I’m done.’

Joel shoots you a thumbs up. ‘Great. I’ll grab the ladder and get right to it.’

When you emerge fifteen minutes later, he’s on the fourth rung of the ladder, tinkering the rolling mechanism with a screwdriver and a studious frown on his brow. He looks like he’s wearing the same thing as yesterday - you can believe that he’s a man who buys the same tshirt in bulk - and he smiles at you when you duck out of the shop.

‘Did Sarah like the cake?’ you ask in casual conversation.

‘She went nuts over the piñata surprise,’ he replies. ‘And the cake was delicious, there were hardly any crumbs left when we were done with it. She says we’re definitely ordering a cake from you for her birthday.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘How was your evening?’ he asks, glancing down at you from his perch. ‘Did you find out what happens on a fourth date?’

You let out a dry laugh. ‘Yeah, I did, actually. He dumped me.’

Joel freezes, a scowl darkening his countenance. ‘Oh shit, what? Why?’

You shrug, leaning your weight on the ladder as you look at the ground. ‘I mean, I did show up an hour late in some other guy’s truck. And I guess probably shouldn’t have kissed you on the cheek right in front of him.’

You startle when Joel’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. ‘It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.’

‘Honestly, you don’t look that sorry, Joel Miller,’ you joke.

He cocks his head to one side. ‘Well, I can't lie, I think you deserve better than him.’

‘Do you now?’ you prompt. ‘Who do you have in mind?’

Joel peers at you from under long lashes with a half-smile that's almost shy. He dodges your question, and says instead, ‘I didn't mean to ruin your night, let me make it up to you, honey.’

‘How?’

Deftly, he climbs down the ladder, landing squarely on two booted feet, his presence comforting as he looms over you, his eyes warm. ‘Can I buy you dinner?’

‘Like - a date kind of dinner?’

‘Yeah, like a date,’ he nods.

You can’t help the dig. ‘And you were just sayin' you haven’t been on a date since...?’

He flashes you a smirk, and you shiver when his hand brushes your waist. ‘Since 1991. Tough sell, I know - but I thought I’d give it a shot.’

Running a finger along his sharp jawline, softened by the endearingly untidy beard, you have to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from giving away too wide a grin. ‘Why, I think I have a good feelin’ about you, Joel Miller.’

Catching your wrist in his fingers, he presses a sweet kiss to your knuckles, the rough graze of his stubble chasing goosebumps across your skin as his eyes smile at you. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then, honey.’

More notes: I hope you enjoyed this sweet little oneshot 🥰 I really leaned into the fluff and I have no regrets. Comments/reblogs/asks are much appreciated as always! I don't have plans for a second part right now, but a smutty follow-up is always a possibility...

The adorable dividers are by @firefly-graphics 👩🏻‍🍳

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine #no outbreak au #joel miller oneshot #the last of us oneshot #fuckyeahshorts

[javiscigarette]

Good Luck Charm

Joel Miller x f!reader (pre outbreak)

Summary: Joel loves the Texas Longhorns and you're just needy (someone please make an edit of him wearing any Longhorns merch im begging)

Warnings: smut (duh), established relationship, mainly just cockwarming, with a daddy kink, and heavy on the dirty talk, cream pie, ass play, whatever else I'm forgetting, no use of Y/N

w/c: 3.3k

A/N: Here's something no one asked for! This definitely isn't my best work but I'm in a funk rn and it's the best I could do! Also hello daddy kink apparently! Oh! And I hit 1k followers a while ago so thank you for that!!! So many hugs and smoochies for everyone ilysm guys 😚🫶🥰❤️❤️❤️ ALSO the AMAZING EDIT MADE BY @serenaxpedro !!!!

my masterlist

There were two things that Joel loved wholeheartedly: you and the Texas Longhorns. 

Joel goes all out for football season. Each year, as soon as September rolls around, you rarely find him without his Longhorns cap on. In the car, it’s not music, it’s a live radio broadcast or a recap of the latest game. And God fucking forbid if you even thought about touching the TV on a Sunday or Monday night.  

And now It’s a Sunday evening in September and the Longhorns are playing, which means Joel is completely preoccupied.  

You waltz down the stairs and into the living room clad in nothing but his Longhorns t-shirt that ends at your midthigh. You find him sitting on the couch, a half empty bottle of beer in his hand with his eyes glued to the screen. He doesn’t notice you at first and you have to stand practically right in front of the TV for him to take his eyes off the screen. When he finally does, he rakes his eyes over your body, a crooked smirk spreading across his face when he sees what you’re wearing.

Thankfully, you caught him at the start of a commercial break. So, he leans back and pats his knee and beckons you over with a soft “C’mere pretty girl.” 

It’s the first bit of attention he’s given you all evening, so you happily bounce over to him and climb into his lap, straddling him with your knees on either side of his hips and your arms draped around his neck. 

“You look so fuckin’ good in this, angel” Joel says, his voice already husky with arousal as he smooths his hands up your thighs. 

“Thank you, daddy” you whisper with an innocent giggle. 

He looks up at you and cocks an eyebrow. You’re no stranger to calling him that, but Joel usually has to spend a lot more time taking you apart for you to use it. 

“You gettin’ needy, sweet girl?” he coos, his hands sliding over your hips and over the curve of your ass. 

You don’t say anything, just grind your hips down harshly, moaning softly at the friction. Joel chuckles at your eagerness while palming at your ass. 

“The game is almost over, angel. Just one more quarter and then I’ll play with you all you want.” 

You huff in frustration. 

“But you’ve been in here all day” you whine. 

Joel laughs again. 

“I’ve barely been in here for two hours, angel. Think you’re just needy” he retorts, poking you in the side with a playful smile.

You huff again and tug at the curls at the nape of his neck as you roll your hips against his. 

“Please?” you ask, your voice drenched in desperation. “I’ll be a good girl and stay still so you can watch the game. Just wanna feel you inside me.” 

Joel eyes you and his hands tighten on your hips as you continue to move against his. 

“Can’t say no when you ask so pretty like that.” 

You grin ear to ear and Joel rolls his eyes. 

“Needy and spoiled” Joel teases as he fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt. 

With his eyes fixed on yours, his palms slide up your thigh, leaving goosebumps on your skin in their wake. He reaches the crease of your thigh and stops suddenly with a sharp inhale. He raises an eyebrow at you as he trails his fingers over the bare skin that should be covered by your panties. 

You look at him, feigning innocence as you chew on the corner of your lip to suppress a mischievous smile. He narrows his eyes at you as he slowly slides a finger along your already soaking wet seam. You’re far too wet and swollen just from sitting in his lap for less than two minutes. And when he slides a finger into your leaking hole, he can obviously feel it. He looks down and sees the wet spot that’s already forming on the front of his jeans. 

“Needy, spoiled, and naughty” he purrs, his voice low and gravelly. “S’that what you were doin’ up there all by yourself, babygirl? Stretchin’ your sweet little pussy so you could come down here and sit on daddy’s cock?” 

All you can manage is a vigorous nod, a needy whine, and another roll of your hips, trying to get his finger deeper inside you. He graciously slips in a second finger with minimal resistance and lets out a soft groan as your leak starts to leak past his fingers and drips to his palm. 

“Tell me how you did it” Joel commands calmly as curls his fingers and starts moving his wrist with languid strokes.

You whimper pathetically and clench tightly around his fingers as he slowly strokes your g-spot. 

“J-just on my fingers, daddy” you whimper while trying to grind your clit against his palm.

Joel hums suspiciously.

“How many?”

“Just shit – just two.”   

“Did you cum, babygirl? Did you cum with your fingers stuffed in your little cunt?” 

Joel’s voice is so low now, his gravelly timbre sending a shiver down your spine. You shake your head and whine again and nose at his neck, hoping that a few neck kisses might distract him. But of course, they don’t. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a big girl and use your words” 

“No, daddy” you mumble, dropping your head to avoid his gaze. 

Joel moves a hand from your thigh to under your chin, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him again. 

“Why’s that angel?” he presses. 

“Needed you, daddy. Couldn’t do it myself. Didn’t want to do it myself” you confess, your cheeks heating up at the admission. 

Even after all this time with Joel, he still easily made you a blushing, flustered mess within seconds. 

“My poor little baby” Joel coos with sarcastic empathy. “Just a needy little slut for daddy’s cock, huh?”

You nod shyly and tug at his hair again. Joel just smirks at you before focusing on the screen again. 

“Get it out then, angel. Game is ‘bout to start again” 

With a jolt of excitement, you scramble to tug his pants halfway down his thighs. Your mouth waters when you free his cock, his length hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your eyes flicker up to him and he looks at you through the corner of his eye, gives you a slight permissive nod then looks back at the TV. 

You move to hover over him before you start slowly sinking down on his cock, both of you moaning in unison at the sensation of him stretching your tight walls. It’s a stretch, it always is, especially when he doesn’t get the chance to open you up on his fingers. 

“You’re so big, daddy” you pant breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulder as you stretch yourself out on his length. 

“Don’t tell me it’s too much after begged to be filled, baby.” Joel chides. 

You make a small noise and double down on your efforts. You whimper softly as you start sinking again, feeling every single inch of him stretch you out your little hole so deliciously. You exhale deeply once you’re full seated. Joel lets out a quiet groan and tightens his grip on your hip. 

“God fuckin damn, babygirl” Joel says quietly. “Always so tight for your daddy.” 

Your sink your teeth into your lower lip, biting back a moan at his words, trying to prove to him that you can be good. It takes a moment for you to resist the urge to ride him, but soon enough the desperation melts into relaxation, the feeling of being so full of him satisfying all your needs. He’s not even fully hard yet and your walls tingle and flutter around him as he continues to swell inside of you. With a sated sigh, you lay your head on his broad shoulder, and you let your eyes close. He holds you close to him, a protective arm draped over you stroking your back absentmindedly. 

“S’this all you wanted, sweet pea? Just needed daddy inside of ya?” he asks, his hand still gliding over your back and occasionally squeezing your ass. 

You nod and snuggle up into him even more. You could die happy right here, stuffed full of Joel with his heart beating against your cheek, warm and safe in his embrace. 

There’s no resisting falling into the overwhelming sense of tranquility that settles deep in your bones. Your breathing starts to slow down as you melt against his body and your head goes fuzzy when you bury your face in the junction of his neck and inhale the intoxicating scent of fresh laundry mixed with his cologne. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is talking to the TV, the sound of his voice fading in and out of your head. But you don’t bother making any sense of the words. You just focus on the rumble of his chest as speaks. 

After a few quiet minutes, he reaches over to the side table to pick up his beer, jostling you around a bit in the process. You make a small noise at the movement, his cock sliding just a bit further inside you to press against that spot deep inside you. You can feel every twitch and surge of his cock inside you, your body responding with a fresh gush of slick to each one, leaving you dripping mess in his lap. 

Joel finishes his beer in two gulps and sets it back down on the table before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You’ve been good so far, staying still and not moving like you promised and the game is almost over. So, Joel decides to give you a little reward. 

He brings his free hand up to your face and traces the line of your jaw and cheekbone with a knuckle. You practically purr and nuzzle into the gentle touch. And as if he can read your mind, probably because he can at this point, he rests two fingertips, cool and damp from the condensation on his beer bottle on your lips. 

You automatically part your lips, giving him silent permission to slide his fingers into you warm, wet mouth. He can’t stop the groan that bubbles up out of his throat as you suck his fingers mindlessly, your cunt clenches rhythmically around him.

He turns his head away from the screen just long enough to see your eyes rolling in bliss under your closed eyelids with drool starting to dribble out past his fingers and down your chin. 

“Bein’ so good, pretty girl” he whispers, pushing his fingers further back and pressing down against your tongue, making a strained sound when you gag. 

“Sound so pretty too gaggin’ on my fingers like that.” 

You keen at his praise and reflexively roll your hips. He shushes you and tightens his grip on your hip, keeping you in place. You squeeze your eyes shut and pant against his neck when he resituates again, his thick head now firmly pushing against your sweet spot. 

You let out a soft mewl, the sound muffled by the fingers shoved down your throat. Joel hisses quietly when you dig your fingernails into the backs of his shoulders. There will be some pretty marks there in the morning. 

“Game’s almost over, sweetpea. Can you hold on for five more minutes? Can you do that for daddy?”  

You nod lazily against him and try to stay as still as possible. You want to be good; you really do. But it’s a herculean effort with him buried so deep inside of you, pressing against all the right places. 

Joel slowly slides his fingers out of your mouth and shushes you again when you whine quietly. You open one eye to watch as he lowers it behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing but your certainly feel it when he spreads your cheeks with one hand and feels where you’re connected. 

“Oh, baby” Joel sighs, feeling how much you’re leaking out around him. “Making such a mess, sweet girl.” He whispers roughly. 

He gathers some of your slick on his already spit-soaked fingers before moving his finger higher to circle your tight hole. 

“Daddy!” you whine, lifting your head in surprise to look at him. 

“Hush, baby” Joel commands. He doesn’t even look at you as he cradles the back of your head with his freehand and forcing you to rest your head back on his shoulder. He stopped watching the game a while ago, but he keeps his gaze fixed to the TV knowing that his lack of attention gets you all the more worked up.  “Let daddy play with his little toy.” 

His hand leaves your head and spreads you open once again. And all you can do is lie there, helpless, and desperate at the mercy of your lover’s hands. 

“You’re so naughty, baby” Joel whispers, as he prods at the tight ring of muscle. “All you little holes are so tight for your daddy. Just for me, huh?” 

You nod and open your mouth to speak but he starts pushing a finger in you and all the comes out is a wanton cry. 

“Jesus Christ” He curses when you tighten even more around him, absolutely obsessed with how your body reacts to his touch. 

You try your best to stay still as he keeps pushing his finger in slowly. But you keep clenching around his cock, and he keeps twitching in reaction creating a circular kindling effect that drives you crazy. 

“Can’t daddy” you whimper pathetically, breath fanning over his neck, hot and humid. 

“But you are, babygirl” Joel reassures, pushing his finger all the way inside of you, groaning at all the different ways your squeezing him. “Takin’ me so well sweetie god you’re so fuckin’ perfect.” 

You moan again, the sound going straight to Joel’s ear and travelling down his spine as a hot tingle. You give an experimental roll of your hips, testing him and seeing what he’s willing to let you do. And he doesn’t stop you. 

With his finger buried in your ass and his cock stuffed in your leaking cunt, you start gently rolling your hips, gasping at the new sensations with each movement. Joel’s chest heaves with each breath as you slowly build up speed against him.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to find the perfect angle that lets you grind your clit down against the patch of hair at the base of his cock. It’s too fucking much to handle and the pool of molten liquid in your abdomen is quickly growing as you hurtle towards your release. 

“Oh, daddy please” you whine desperately between loud moans. 

“What do you need, angel?” Joel asks like he doesn’t already know. “Tell me. Tell daddy what you need.” 

You gulp for air, but you still can’t get a good breath. You’re so full of him. Every square inch of your skin is on fire now, every touch feels so good, his scent is filling your head and you can’t think straight. 

“Need – fuck daddy! – I need to cum, I’m gonna cum please let me daddy please” you babble, now clawing at his shoulders. 

“Shh baby it’s okay. You’ve been so good for me, lemme feel you cum all over my cock, sweet girl.” 

You moan in relief and start to allow the pleasure to take over your body. Joel watches in amazement as you fall apart on top of him when he barely even had to move a muscle. You keep your face buried in his neck and Joel groans at the sounds your making so close to his ear. You start trembling on top of him as your moans grow louder and louder, letting him know you’re seconds away from release. He keeps his finger inside of you and wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you flush against his body. 

“Lift up a bit, baby” Joel grunts into your hair. 

You barely hear him, but the last working part of your brain process his words and your body automatically complies. You press into your knees and your thighs shake as you lift yourself up off of him just slightly.  

The next second, Joel slams his hips up into yours, chasing after your tight, wet heat, already needing to be buried inside of you again. You scream as he pounds into you, his pace brutal and unwavering. Liquid heat surges through your veins and your hypersensitive walls grip him like a vice as the hot coil in your abdomen starts to unravel. 

Joel doesn’t stop as you start to cum. If anything, he speeds up. He punches up into your g-spot with each thrust over and over and over again, desperate to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible. More hot slick starts gushing out of you around him and Joel can’t believe how drenched you are right now. 

“There you go babygirl. Soak daddy’s dick” Joel rasps, his voice cracking as he starts to chase his own orgasm. 

The way he can feel himself move inside you, just a thin wall separating his cock and finger combined with the feeling of you sinking your teeth into his neck is making him absolutely feral. He’s only seconds behind you. He’s been just as affected, just as turned on as you this whole time. He’s just a lot better at hiding it. 

“You want daddy’s cum, angel?”  Joel pants, his eyes rolling back when you tangle your finger in the curls at the base of the neck and pull. 

You nod fervently and choke out “Yes, daddy! Please, want it inside” between long, loud moans. 

“M’gonna fill you up, sweet girl. Have so much for you. Just for you, baby.” 

You cry out at Joel’s promise and tug even harder at his hair and suck at the skin between your teeth. That’s all it takes for him to break. His fingertips dig into your ribs, and he pulls you down on top of him then empties himself inside you, unloading ropes and ropes of hot cum into your awaiting pussy. He holds you impossibly close and gives your moans a run for their money with the sounds he makes. 

“Baby, baby jesus fuck you’re so good” Joel huffs as you continue to move your hips, riding out and extending both of your orgasms for as long as possible. 

You’re both completely unaware of how much time passes as the two of you sit there, panting and trying to catch your breaths. Joel moves his hand from your waist to your hair, gently stroking and grunting softly as you keep spasming around him as the aftershocks of your orgasm course through your body. He brushes the hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear so he can get a good look at your face, your eyes closed, eyebrows drawn together and your mouth hanging open as small whimpers tumble past your lips. 

“You look so pretty all fucked out like this, baby” Joel murmurs. 

You slowly open your eyes and look up at him with hooded lids. He gives you a soft smile that heats you from the inside out and fills your heart with a warm fuzzy feeling. You give him one in return, the corners of your lips curling up into a crooked grin. 

“Thank you, daddy” you mumble, your voice rough and ruined. 

“Anything for you, sweet girl” Joel says quietly as he cards his fingers through your hair. “Anything.”  

He looks at you for a few more moments, wishing he could burn the image to the inside of his eyelids to look at forever. But the sound of the announcers on TV catch his attention and he flicks his eyes to the screen. 

He looks back at you with a wide, giddy smile. 

“Did we win?” you ask, your words slow and syrupy. 

“Sure did, angel” Joel says happily before leaning down to place a kiss to your temple. “You’re my good luck charm, baby. Think you need to do that for every game from now on”

You giggle and let your eyes slip close again, finally fully satisfied. 

Thank you for reading!! please let me know if you liked it I need extra validation rn

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #Joel miller #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #javiscigarette