#lexie writes

[bastardmandennis]

be my daddy

(joel miller x f!reader) | AO3 | masterlist

Summary: Joel meets you and Ellie while on a field trip with Sarah, and then you keep running into each other.

Word Count: 10.4k don't look at me.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only pls!), no y/n, no outbreak! (playing fast and loose w the timeline/ages here shh), mostly plot some porn, fluff and a litte sadness, meet-cute, mentions of grief, ellie is reader's niece, good dad joel!!, slight miscommunication (🤭), phone sex, masturbation (m & f), oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie! dirty talk, sliiight daddy kink, breeding kink (no actual babies here i promise). i think that's all, pls let me know if i missed anything!

A/N: dedicating this one to my faves! ty for looking this over @party-hearses @tinycozycomfort and @idolatrybarbie, and for listening to me whine about this forever! and thank you @tinygarbage for the inspo. sorry this took so long- enjoy!

Hell. This must be hell.

Or as close to it as Joel can think: crammed in a school bus with twenty wild, sticky, screechy kids as they rumble along the thirty minute drive to the zoo. The teacher had long ago given up on trying to get them to settle down, resting her head against the bumping window and pretending not to hear every time a kid called her name. He envied her. Anything for Sarah, he reminded himself.

She rarely asked him for anything, but when she’d come to him last week with the permission slip crumpled in her tiny hand, asking him to be the chaperone instead of Tommy or his mother, he’d said yes without thinking. Luckily he’d been able to move around some things at work–perks of being your own boss. He’d move heaven and hell for her–one little field trip was nothing, really, in the grand scheme of things.

A wad of paper hits the back of his head, damp with–shit, that better not be spit–and right when he’s about to turn around and yell at whoever threw it, Sarah slips her tiny hand into his and squeezes. He looks at her big brown eyes, so much like his own, and he settles back into the seat, giving her a smile and reaching around to poke her ribs until she’s screech-laughing. Soon she’ll be too old, too cool to have her dad around for things like this. He stops that thought almost as soon as it pops into his head, swallowing back the sudden lump in his throat.

After what feels like an eternity they finally pull up to the zoo, kids spilling out of the bus as the teacher tries helplessly to wrangle them into one big group. He sighs, then brings his fingers up to his mouth and lets out an ear-piercing wolf whistle. The effect is immediate–every kid stops in their place, staring up at him with wide eyes. One boy opens his mouth to say something, and Joel raises his hand up to stop him.

“Listen here,” he says firmly. “We’re gonna go into this zoo, and y’all are gonna behave. Got it? Means no rough housin’, no yellin’, and no touchin’. Now line up behind Ms. Jackson.”

It’s silent, gears turning in their tiny brains as they attempt to process his words, and then they just–listen. They’re the most well-behaved he’s seen all morning, lining up quickly behind the teacher with only a few shoves–progress. The boy he stopped from talking earlier whispers to Sarah your dad is so cool, and he pretends he doesn’t hear her proud little yeah, i know he is as they walk to the end of the line together.

–

The zoo is–well, it’s what he expected. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all. But Sarah loves it, dragging him with her to the front of the group, listening as she carefully reads the description in front of each display, tugging him down to help read the words she doesn’t quite know yet. They’re not even halfway through the day and she’s already asking when they can come back with uncle Tommy, he’d love to see the monkeys–the ones who’ve been flinging their poop against the walls of their enclosure, to the delight of all the kids and exasperation of the adults–they’d had to bribe them with ice cream just to get them away.

It’s a hot day, the midday sun beating down mercilessly as they make their way slowly through each exhibit, and he immediately regrets the flannel he’d worn. He shucks it off, tying it around his waist and pretending he doesn’t see the teacher watching him. She’s been less than subtle about ogling him during dropoff, pickups, school parties–Julie, he thinks her name is. Maybe Jessica? He doesn’t mind the attention, honestly. It’s been awhile since he’s even thought about trying to date, focused on getting through each day, getting Sarah through each day and making sure she’s happy, carrying the mental load of two parents in one. It’s why he’s been working long hours, the kind of grueling labor that leaves his body aching and sore every day, and when he picks Tommy up in the mornings he just shakes his head at him, tells him you’re getting old, man. And he feels old, most days. So screw him for wanting to have a little fun.

He’s just about to go over to Ms. Jackson and interrupt what is a surely riveting conversation with a group of Sarah’s classmates when he practically trips over a tiny body laying in the middle of the walkway.

“What the f–” He stops himself just in time, swallowing back the curse as he steps back to look at the body on the ground. It’s a little girl, probably about Sarah’s age, laying facedown on the hard gravel. He nudges the girl’s leg gently with his boot, and when she doesn’t move he squats down next to her, groaning as his knees crack.

He’s about to call out for help and then he hears it–a muffled voice rising up from the ground. 

“Can’t hear ya, gotta speak up. You alright?” 

The girl rolls over onto her back, eyes closed as she whispers, “I sa-id, were you gonna say what the fuck?” And then she breaks out into obnoxious laughter, so loud that a family shuffles away from them quickly, side-eyeing the two of them as if he’s responsible for this odd, vulgar child.

“’S not a nice word,” he gruffs, standing up with a groan and searching for anyone around, any kind of adult who’s supposed to be watching this kid. She ignores him, dust covering her sweatshirt and hair falling out of her ponytail as she continues rolling around on the pavement, laughing hysterically. More people are staring now, and he wished he’d just walked away to begin with–now if he does it he’ll look like an asshole. Just great.

He grits his teeth, feels his jaw click into place. “Where’s your parents?”

“Don’t have any,” she says, singsong-y, “Just me and my aunt and–”

“Ellie!” a woman’s voice calls, and the girl perks her head up as a frazzled looking woman runs over to the two of them. She’s wary, looking between them, at the girl–Ellie–laying on the ground, at Joel standing over her. He takes a step back, raising his hands up and attempting to smile. It comes out more like a grimace and she turns her attention to her niece on the ground.

“Come on Ellie, time to go,” the woman says, ignoring Ellie’s protests. He can’t stop staring at this woman, Ellie’s aunt, her pretty eyes, the flush inching up her cheeks. He quickly averts his eyes, not wanting to get caught staring like a creep, looking around for the actual kids he’s supposed to be watching.

“Thank you, uh…?”

“Joel,” he says quickly, sticking his hand out for a shake. She crosses her arms, ignoring his outstretched hand, and he lets it fall to his side.

“Well thanks, Joel,” she says, already distracted by Ellie running away from them to the next exhibit. “I’ll see you around, or whatever.” And she’s gone before he can say anything else.

He thinks about following after her, about getting her number, until Sarah runs up to him, taking his hand and practically dragging him over to see the penguins. It’s not until much later, long after they’re home from the zoo, as he’s tucking Sarah into bed with the stuffed penguin she had to have, that he realizes he never even got the woman’s name.

–

You turn around for one second, just to read one of the information plaques on display, and almost as soon as you turn back around you realize Ellie’s gone. You spin around, ignoring the huff of the woman next to you when you bump her stroller, eyes searching the crowd for her little ponytail. Don’t panic, don’t panic, she’s around here somewhere. 

You wind your way through the indoor exhibits, calling out for Ellie, cursing yourself for not bringing the little backpack leash–you’d assumed that at nine years old, she was old enough to know better than to run off without saying anything. Clearly not.

Right as you’re about to panic and find zoo security–is that even a thing?–you spot her bright yellow sweatshirt in the distance. She’s laying on the ground for some reason, in the middle of the walkway. Her social worker told you she tended to do that when she was feeling overwhelmed, needing to feel grounded (literally), but you’d never seen it firsthand. A man crouches next to her, brow furrowed as he listens to whatever she’s saying. You assume it’s one of the zoo workers, until he stands up and you get a good look at him.

And damn, he’s hot.

In the literal sense of the word–there’s sweat beading along his hairline, running down his neck to pool under his t-shirt, a worn flannel tied around his waist. He’s standing next to her, arms crossed over his broad chest and a deep frown pulling at his face. You want to smooth out the little divot between his brows. And then you realize you’ve been standing there too long, staring at this stranger as he talks to your niece. Who’s still laying on the ground.

Clearly no one’s running to give you any parenting awards.

You call her name and their heads snap up at the same time to look at you. A quick glance at Ellie reveals she’s fine, just dusty and a little scraped up from rolling on the gravel. You hide your sigh of annoyance, glancing at the man and back to Ellie when she still doesn’t move off the ground. You lock eyes and give her your best stare, trying to be authoritative (who are you kidding, right?), and when she stands up you grab her hand–a little too tightly, if the way she immediately squirms out of your grip is any indication. The man is still standing there, you realize, and you flush. He’s probably waiting for a thank you, for making sure nothing bad happened to Ellie because of your neglect.

“Thank you, um…”

“Joel,” he says, deep voice rumbling out. He really is beautiful, dark hair curling in the humidity, hints of grey in his beard. You cross your arms over your chest, embarrassed at the thought of this handsome man seeing you like this, looking like a mess. He probably thinks you’re some shitty parent, not watching Ellie like you should. Too late you realize his hand had been outstretched for you to shake–he drops it before you can say anything. 

Speaking of Ellie–you look up just in time to see her dart off before you can say anything. Shit. You thank the man–Joel, a nice name–and run after her. Later, when you’re home with a glass of wine after putting Ellie to bed extra early with threats of bringing the backpack leash next time, you realize you never told Joel your name.

–

The zoo incident, as Joel’s been thinking of it, hasn’t left his mind in the weeks since. His mind whirls over different options, different ways to try and find the woman from the zoo again. Maybe he could take Sarah back one weekend, and hope she was there again? No, that’s stupid, no one goes to the zoo more than once a year, let alone twice in one month. Not to mention that’d be kind of stalkerish. He keeps replaying the short interaction in the shower, on the way to work, as he goes through his night routine, wondering if the way her eyes lingered on him was just polite curiosity or something…more. He can’t think about that too long, feeling desire burn low in his stomach at the thought of her, the way she’d said his name, her long legs peeking out of the denim shorts, until he’s locking himself in his bathroom, turning the faucet on to hide his grunts as he fucks his own fist and comes embarrassingly quickly.

And when Sarah brings him another class volunteer form one night, this one for the upcoming Halloween party, he feels guilty enough that he signs up not just to bring cupcakes, but to help set up and take down everything at the end of the day. That should earn him enough good dad points for a little while, at least. She’s happier than he’s seen her in awhile, spending the entire car ride home discussing costume options with him.

“Y’think I’m dressing up?” he asks, trying to hide the smirk on his face. She huffs and he can’t hide his grin–she’s so easy to rile up sometimes.

“Dad,” she whines, pushing her bottom lip out in a pout. “It’s Halloween, ’course you gotta dress up. Aren’t we going trick or treating t’gether?”

He steps out of the truck, walking around slowly to open the door for her, hoisting her backpack up with a dramatic grunt as she giggles, running ahead of him into the house, all talk of trick-or-treating forgotten for now. It’s not that he’d forgotten about Halloween, or trick-or-treating, but he knows he’ll be working overtime that night, letting Tommy take her around the neighborhood as slowly as possible so he could rush back home just in time to meet them for the last few houses. It’s what they’d done last year, and the year before, and when he brought it up to Tommy, all he’d said was she’s not gettin’ any younger, you know. soon she won’t want either of us takin’ her out, crampin’ her style. but ’m fine with being the cool uncle, let you be the bad guy. He’d laughed it off, shoving Tommy’s shoulder and rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t help but think about it later. Was he doing his best for Sarah? Maybe she would’ve been better off with her mom–no. That kind of instability is no life for a child. It’s the whole reason he worked himself to the bone, taking as many extra shifts as he could while still making it home on time for bedtime as often as he could. So he could be there for her as much as possible.

The day before the party he leaves Sarah sleeping at home with a smug Tommy parked on his couch eating his snacks, drinking his beer. He finally makes it to the grocery store, mulling over the different cupcake options, hemming and hawing until he sees the perfect thing. There’s one big box of vanilla and chocolate left, thick swirls of orange and black icing on top with a plastic Halloween ring in each. Twenty-four, that should be enough–he can’t imagine that the teacher, or the parents, would want the kids having more than one cupcake anyway.

He’s not paying attention as the woman beside him says excuse me, sorry, and he steps back automatically, holding the cooler door open for her as he wonders what kind of costume he can throw together before tomorrow. The woman steps back, dragging her cart closer to deposit a box of cupcakes in it, and he lets the door drop from his hand with a loud slam that makes them both jump.

It’s her, the woman from the zoo. Holding his tray of cupcakes in her hand, the ones he was just about to grab.

He clears his throat and her eyes shoot to him. Recognition flashes in her face, then something like…guilt, maybe? It’s gone before he can think about it and then they’re both standing in the middle of the aisle, staring, not saying anything. He’s never felt this off, opens his mouth to say something but she beats him to it.

“Joel, right?” she asks with a wide smile. “Small world. What are you–”

“I’m, uh—actually, I was about to grab those,” he nods to the tray of neon frosted cupcakes, “for tomorrow. For Sarah’s party.” 

“Oh,” she says. They both turn to look at the display case at the same time–empty. The last tray of Halloween-specific cupcakes now sits in her cart next to a pack of orange paper plates and juice boxes. Fuck.

“It’s Ellie’s party tomorrow too, obviously. I don’t mean obviously like, duh, but you know. Last school day before Halloween, or whatever.” She doesn’t meet his eyes, fingers curling around the side of the cart. Her nails are painted light blue, chipping in the corners. 

He can’t stop staring–how is it possible she looks more beautiful now, at 9:30 on a random Thursday night in sweatpants and an oversized shirt than she did at the zoo? He catches himself, clearing his throat. Focus on what you came here for.

“Didn’t realize there was only one tray left,” he finally says. She pauses, and then the smile is back, more of a smirk this time.

“Well, Jo-el,” she teases. “Maybe don’t wait ‘til the last minute next time. You might have better luck at the one down the street.” And then she’s gone, pushing the cart away without even so much as a glance back.

He stands there a moment, processing, and then he’s running down the aisle, his own cart forgotten, over to the self-checkout line where she’s bagging up her groceries.

“Wait, what’s your–what’s your name?” he pants. Her eyes are wide as he gulps down air. Thank god the store is practically empty, only one annoyed looking clerk watching the scenario unfold with eagle eyes and a frown.

She tugs the receipt out of the machine, scribbling down her name and number carefully before folding it up and shoving it in his hand.

“It was nice to see you, Joel,” she says. “Good luck with the party.”

And then she’s gone and he’s left standing in the middle of the checkout lane, grinning like an idiot until the cashier asks if he’s okay. He trudges back to the bakery section, settling for a pack of plain purple frosted cupcakes. Purple can be a Halloween color, right? 

–

You don’t expect to hear from Joel after your late-night run in at the store. Of course when you’d seen him again, you looked like absolute shit, sprinting out of bed at the last minute when you remembered that Ellie’s party was the next day. This was her first week in her new school and a new classroom, and even if she didn’t directly say it you knew she was hoping to fit in, make some new friends. She’d been so nervous asking you about the party, crumpling the sign-up form in her sweaty hand with a mumbled you don’t have to, ’f you don’t wanna. You hadn’t seen her this nervous, this vulnerable, since the funeral, and without a second thought you’d signed the form, promising her you’d be there no matter what.

So there you are at almost 10pm on a Thursday night, scouring the grocery store frantically for something to contribute to the party. You figure no one could turn down cupcakes and juice, right?

And then you see Joel, and you’re about to say something, ask him how he’s been maybe, when he mentions that he’s getting ready for Sarah’s party. Who the hell is Sarah? His wife? A girlfriend? You glance at his hands–no ring, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe he’s a commitment-phobe. Yikes. Maybe he’s allergic to metal and can’t wear jewelry. Because let’s be honest, there’s no possible way a man like that is single. So you do what you do best when you’re uncomfortable–leave as quickly as possible with a half-hearted goodbye thrown over your shoulder.

You check out in a daze, the mind-numbing beep…beep…beep of the scanner practically lulling you to sleep. You’ve just put the cupcakes in the bag when Joel comes skidding around the corner, coming to a stop right in front of you, breathing heavily. And when he asks for your number you play it cool, scribbling it down and bolting out of the automatic doors, heart pounding. You definitely don’t stare at your phone all night, or the next morning, so jumpy that even Ellie notices that something is off.

She tugs on the oversized sheet covering her body, trying to line up the cut-out eye holes so she can see, and you take a sip of coffee to hide your smile. “You’re still coming to the party today, right? Cuz I told my teacher you were, but if you don’t want to that’s okay you know–”

“Ellie, Ellie, take a breath.” You take an exaggerated inhale, raising an eyebrow until she huffs and does the same, until you’re both slowly exhaling. “I’ll be there, don’t worry. Grab your sweater, we’re gonna be late.”

You can’t stop thinking about Joel. How his arms fill out every shirt he wears. The way his hair usually curls around his ears but it looked different at the store, pushed back and wet, like he’d just gotten out of the shower or something. And that thought leads to imagining Joel in the shower, then you in the shower with Joel, rubbing soapy hands on each other’s bodies until–

This could be a problem.

You even stop at the phone store on your way to work, just to make sure your phone is working, that all your texts and calls are coming through like they’re supposed to. The guy gives you a weird look, turns it on and off and tells you yeah, it’s fine, then charges you $40 for the “maintenance fee.” A humbling experience, to say the least.

Who asks for someone's number and then just doesn’t call? He’s probably busy, you reason, as you pull into the school parking lot. No more thinking about Joel for the rest of the day, you tell yourself. You carefully juggle the tray of cupcakes and adjust the plastic tiara on your head, smooth out the too-short tutu–a last minute costume, but one that Ellie had insisted on, and her smile when you showed her the outfit last night was worth the potential embarrassment.

You shut the car door shut with your hip, shifting the bag of juice boxes back onto your shoulder as you make your way to the front door with the tray of cupcakes clenched in your hand. You’d been to the school once before, right after you learned Ellie was going to be staying with you permanently, had even met her new teacher, but the maze of hallways is just as confusing as the first time. The lady at the front desk is no help, shooing you down the hall as she cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder, typing furiously. Okay…

The walls are covered with artwork, and you stop to look at a couple of family trees made out of construction paper. Thank god Ellie missed that particular assignment. You swallow down the sudden lump in your throat and peer into one classroom that looks vaguely familiar. The door opens with a sudden squeak and you practically fall into the room, trying to keep your balance with everything in your hand. The tiny desks have been arranged into a loose semi circle around the room, topped with various spooky Halloween-themed coloring sheets and markers. A group of parents stand in one corner of the room, mostly moms and–one dad. Interesting. Of course, they all look like they stepped out of a fashion magazine–you tug your dress down and consider taking the crown off before they notice you. No one else is dressed up except the kids, all running around and hopped up on sugar.

“Cupcakes are here!” Ellie cries out to the class, running up to wrap herself around your legs in a big hug. You stumble back against the sudden pressure and Ellie’s teacher quickly comes around to take the cupcakes from you. She’s a nice lady, Mrs. Jordan? Johnson?, you can’t remember, but you happily take her assistance. 

Twenty kids swarm around you all chattering at the same time, to you, to their friends, to the teacher, whoever will listen. It’s overwhelming–your hands shake as you rip open the pack of paper plates, setting them out on a spare desk to try and make the hand-out process go as smoothly as possible. The moms are still huddled in the corner, eyeing your costume, the plastic tiara that’s threatening to slip off your head as you deal out cupcakes, leaning in close to whisper to each other. Your face burns and you want to sink through the floor, slip out quietly while their backs are turned, do anything rather than stand here and serve them as they shit-talk you.

“Need some help?” a voice behind you says.

A too-familiar, male, voice. God please don’t let it be–

It’s Joel, of course, because it feels like the universe absolutely hates you. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt and jeans, an empty tool belt slung low around his waist. Perched on his head is a pink cowboy hat, complete with glitter all along the sides. It should look ridiculous, but he wears it well, swaggering up to form an assembly line of cupcakes and napkins. If he notices your hands shaking when he passes you the juice boxes, he doesn’t say anything.

“Thanks,” you mutter. Busy yourself with arranging the already-stacked juice boxes, just so you don’t have to see the pity in his face.

“So this is where my cupcakes went. Could’ve been worse, I guess.” He’s grinning when you look up, dimple deepening the longer you stare at him.

“Hope Sarah wasn’t too disappointed,” you say, hoping the jealousy isn’t obvious in your voice. He passes you a cupcake and your hands touch as you arrange it on a paper plate. 

“Ask her yourself,” he says. He lifts an arm to wave someone over and you definitely don’t look at the little sliver of exposed skin that peeks above his jeans. You prepare yourself to meet the mysterious Sarah, no doubt beautiful and amazing and Joel’s.

Your mouth drops open as a little girl runs up to the two of you, throwing her arms around Joel as he chuckles. There’s a tiara in her curly hair and you can’t help but smile. His daughter, obviously–she’s got the same big brown eyes, the peek of the same dimple that you’ve seen on Joel’s face. She flashes you a big smile. Her front tooth is missing.

“Are you a princess, too?” she asks, pointing to the crown on your head. You step back and give a quick twirl, the tulle of your skirt puffing out as she giggles wildly.

“Sure looks like it,” you tell her. “Very nice to meet you, princess Sarah.”

She gives a curtsy of her own before she runs off to join her friends, all of them looking back and waving at you and Joel. He tips his cowboy hat to them and they screech with laughter.

You start gathering the trash from the table. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Me?” He spreads his arms out, letting you get a good look at the stretch of his t-shirt across his shoulders, the pink hat settled on top of his ruffled hair. “A cowboy, duh.”

“What’s with the toolbelt?”

“Oh, that.” He looks down like he’d forgotten it was there. The weight of it pulls his jeans low on his hips, the black band of his underwear threatening to show when he shifts. “Forgot to take it off on my way here. Cowboys need tools too, right princess?” And he winks.

You’re not sure what to say to that, heat rising to your cheeks–is it warm in here or what? He looks like he wants to say something else, mouth snapping shut when a woman in a pantsuit sidles up next to him, squeezing in between you and forcing you to step back with a little huff. 

“Joely!” she says. Practically screeches, the way your ears are ringing. She completely ignores you. “I’m so glad you could make it today! We–me and the other PTO ladies, you know–we were just saying how it seems like you’re way too busy for us now.” She gives him a fake pout and squeezes his hand between hers. You roll your eyes and straighten the rest of the napkins out so you don’t have to watch her flirt obnoxiously with Joel right in front of you, acting like you’re not even there. 

He slips his hand out of her grasp with a polite chuckle. “Yes, ma’am, been busy. Never too busy for Sarah, though–she asked me to come today.”

“Oh that’s so cute,” she simpers, running her manicured hand up and down his arm. He shifts to look around her, to look at you, still standing there like an idiot cleaning up, pretending your’re not listening to their conversation.

“Janet, I don’t think you two’ve met. This is Ellie’s aunt.” She finally turns her sharp gaze to you, scanning you up and down without a word. You want to fidget, pull your stupid tutu right off, but the warm look Joel gives you fills you with a little bit of confidence as you mumble your name.

“Ellie’s…aunt,” she says, slowly, like she can’t wait to ask the usual follow-up questions. Why are you here? Where are her parents? You nod, give her a tight smile, refusing to elaborate. 

“She’s an interesting girl,” she says, a bright flash of teeth that turns into a smirk. You bristle and Joel, sensing an impending cat fight, reaches around her again to grab your hand.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. Just for you. “Let’s get out of here.” The woman, Janet, sputters and starts to say something else, probably to offer herself up on a silver platter to him, but Joel ignores her, keeping his eyes on you as he leads you out into the hallway, one hand on your back.

“You okay?” he asks. He hasn’t moved his hand. In fact, he seems closer to you than ever. Your breath hitches. If even this random lady can tell you’re not fit to be a parent, what does that say about you?

“I knew people were going to wonder, you know, why I’m here with Ellie. Where her parents are. I just…it caught me off guard, that’s all.” 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Didn’t want to ask, figured it’s none of my business. And if it’s not my business, it sure as hell ain’t theirs.” He jerks his head towards the classroom, where the head bitch of the PTO and her cronies are huddled together, no doubt whispering about the way Joel coming to your rescue.

“Is that right, Joely?” you tease, and he groans at the nickname. He scuffs a boot on the floor and rolls his eyes. 

“Let’s go, before they destroy that room even more.” 

–

You’re loading the leftover party goodies–plus two tired, over-sugared kids–into your respective cars when Joel turns and asks you out.

“Like…a date?” 

He smiles, slamming the back door closed. “Exactly like a date.”

You look at Ellie in the backseat of your car, her once-white ghost costume now covered in sticky frosting handprints and smears of chocolate, and then at Joel, who’s watching you expectantly.

“What about the kids?”

“What about them?” You roll your eyes and push his shoulder. His hand settles over yours, dragging you even closer, until you can count every tiny freckle on his face, each individual lash. He’s so pretty.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says. “We can get babysitters, go to the movies or somethin’. Haven’t seen a non-Disney movie in the past three years, figure I’m overdue.”

A night out would be nice–even before Ellie came to stay with you, you hadn’t had many opportunities to go out. And when Joel looks at you like that with those big puppy dog eyes, you want to say yes, but then you remember that he didn’t call like he was supposed to, after the grocery store. Insecurity flares up–what if he’s lying, what if he doesn’t want to see you again, what if it’s a trick?–and you do your best to shove those thoughts away quickly.

“I think we could do that.” He smiles, the kind that lights his whole face up and crinkles the corners of his eyes. “You actually gonna call me this time?”

He frowns and then his face lights up in realization. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, barely recognizable under the hundreds of tiny cracks shattering the screen. One corner of the screen is just completely blank when the rest of the screen lights up. Even through the shattered screen, you can tell that his background is a picture of Sarah in her soccer uniform, holding a soccer ball in one hand with a big smile.

“Dropped it at a job site,” he says. “Was gonna get it fixed this weekend, but I’ll go right now. Can I call you later tonight, for real this time?” 

A car horn blares behind you and you both jump. Ellie’s leaned over into the front seat, waving at you to hurry up. And then Sarah rolls her window down, asking Joel if they can please get Chinese for dinner tonight.

“The princesses are waiting,” he says, tipping his hat towards you with an exaggerated wink. He mouths call you later?, and then they’re gone with a light beep and a wave as they drive away.

You’re still smiling when you drive home, listening to Ellie chatter away in the backseat about how fun the party was, how nice Sarah and her friends are, and did you know that she doesn’t have a mom either, just like me? I think she’s my best friend now and that would be so cool, right? A weight is lifted, seeing how easily she’s fitting in at school, how well she seems to be adjusting to life here with you. Maybe you’ll both be okay.

–

You’re laying in bed with the tv low in the background later than night when your phone lights up with a call from Joel. You sit up quickly, clearing your throat and smoothing your hair as if he could see you, before you answer on the fourth ring. Not too desperate, right?

“Hey,” you say. Lean back and stare at the plaster-swirled ceiling, hoping he can’t hear the nervousness in your voice. “I guess you got your phone fixed?”

“I did.” God, he sounds so cool, voice a low rumble through the speaker. “Easy fix, so. Just wanted to say hi.”

You glance at the digital clock on your nightstand, watch as the numbers switch from 9:48 to 9:49. Too early for a booty call, right? Do adults even do that anymore?

“A late night call from Mr. Joel Miller, I feel honored.”

He laughs, a low chuckle that you want to record, hoard the sound in your brain forever. The sound of him shuffling fills the speaker and you freeze. Is he laying down in his room? Sitting on the couch? Shirtless, or in pajamas maybe? Your mouth goes dry picturing his long body spread out on the bed in only a pair of black boxers, whispering your name as he slicks a hand over his hard cock.  

He says your name again, a little louder and you flush with a little hmm? You yank your other hand out from under your shirt where it had been resting against your stomach, inching beneath the band of your shorts as he talked. 

“You okay?” His voice drops lower, more intimate. “Need me to come rescue you again?”

The laugh that bubbles out sounds weak even to you. Just his rough voice in your ear, the warmth of it wrapping around you like a familiar blanket, has a low simmer starting in your stomach. You shift, sheets crinkling, and he inhales sharply.

“And what if I want you to?”

The whoosh of his breath crackles through the speaker and then it’s quiet. You’re about to say something, maybe just kidding, not trying to be weird or anything, when his voice comes through, raspier than before, somehow even deeper.

“Let me tell you what I’d do if I was there with you. Are you wearing anything right now?” You nod and then give him a low mhm when you realize he can’t see you. “Good. Take your pants off, now.”

Heart pounding, you scrape the tiny shorts down your legs and kick them away, shoving the worn t-shirt up to bunch at your collarbones, warmth spreading throughout your body despite the cold air. Your nipples harden and as if sensing what you need, he says go ahead darlin’, touch ’em for me. Your fingers swirl around them, lightly, teasing like you imagine he’d do to you. It’s not nearly enough and you whine. His chuckle is low and slow, voice like caramel as it drips into your ear.

“Yeah that’s it, play with ’em. Can’t wait to get my mouth around them, fuck–bet they’re the prettiest little nipples I’d ever seen.” He pauses. “Defintiely not prettier than that pussy though. You wet for me?”

Since the moment you started talking, you want to tell him, and instead you say, “Yes, of course, all for you. Are you, um, are you hard yet?”

He groans, and you hear him fumble on the other end before he’s back, breathless. “Been thinkin’ about you all day, had to get off in the shower this morning and it still- it still wasn’t enough.” He spits, lets out a sigh of relief as you imagine he’s finally taken his hard cock out from his shorts, flushed and leaking from the lack of attention. You can picture it so clearly when you close your eyes, pinching a nipple and moving your hand lower, to the band of your underwear.

“Joel, can I–”

“Fuck, ’course you can,” he grunts. “Lemme hear you, pretty girl. Tell me how it feels.”

Your finger sneaks down, running through the slick there as you tease yourself, fluttering the tip before slowly sinking a finger in with a low whimper. It’s good but not enough–you wonder if one of his fingers would feel as good as two of yours.

“Not-not enough,” you whimper. “Wish you were here.”

“’S okay, baby, you can do it. Next time ’m gonna be there for you, touch you however you want me to. Wanna get my mouth on you, get that little pussy drooling for me, beggin’ for me to fill her up.” The slick sound of his hand moving over his cock fills the speaker and a whine gets caught in your throat, head spinning as you slide a second finger in, pumping steadily as he listens, telling you what a good girl you are, so fuckin’ pretty, make the prettiest sounds, gonna have you bouncin’ on me next time, you want that? It’s so much, so overwhelming–he’s not even there, physically, but it feels like he’s right next to you, whispering in your ear, coaxing you towards the edge as you rub your clit to the steady shlick shlick shlick of you fucking yourself and him stroking along. Your breathing shallows and he somehow hears it, the little hitch in your breath as you get close, breathing out his name lowly.

“Joel, please, please,” you whine, and he groans in your ear, sounding even closer than before, like he’d shoved the phone in between his shoulder and ear as he worked himself. 

“What do you need honey, tell me,” his voice a rasp in your ear, desperate. “Need me to come over there and fill you up? Gonna stuff you full of me, ’s that what you want?”

Your muscles tense, mind blanking until all you can think about is his voice in your ear, how rough his hands would be on your skin, and you come in between one breath and the next with a low noise and a rush of slick down your fingers. He’s still talking, voice slurred as he chases his own end, the rough slap of skin almost drowned out by his grunts, breathing faster as you tell him to come for you and–he does with a long, drawn out groan. The sudden silence afterwards is almost disorienting, both of you breathing heavily.

“I’m so glad you fixed your phone,” you finally say and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says yeah, me too.

–

The night of the big date finds Joel standing in front of the bathroom mirror, running a hand over his jaw, feeling the overgrown stubble there. Should he have shaved before? Is it too patchy, too grey? He feels so old all of a sudden, anxiety twisting his stomach like he’s some teen picking up his date for the prom. He barely recognizes the face looking back at him, so many new wrinkles and grey hairs, the crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes that crinkle as he watches Sarah sprint past the open door, screeching and laughing as Tommy follows quickly behind. There’s a loud slam from the living room and when he hollers what was that? they both yell back nothing! at the same time. He deserves a night out, he decides.

Tommy whistles when Joel walks in the living room, dodging the shoulder punch Joel throws at him with ease. “Don’t you look spiffy.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, smoothing his wet hair back again. “Thanks for staying, by the way.”

Sarah pops up from the back of the couch, hair falling out of the two braids that Joel had carefully done for her that morning, after she promised that she’d keep them in and not mess them up. He hides his sigh as she runs over to hug him, tiny arms wrapping around him and squeezing hard. He pretends to fall, landing with a loud oof on the couch just to hear her laugh. She squirms out of his grip as he plants a smacking kiss to the side of her head.

“Daaad! Don’t you have to go?” she whines. “We’ll be okay, Tommy said we can order pizza after you leave.”

“Is that right?” He glares at Tommy, who shrugs and holds his hand out expectantly. Joel slaps a bill into his hand and finally glances at his watch. He’s gonna be late if he doesn’t leave right now, pressing another kiss to the top of Sarah’s head with a stern be good. They’re already back at it when he pulls the door closed behind him, arguing over who should be player one this time. Jesus–sometimes it’s like he has two children to worry about.

He navigates the streets carefully, not wanting to get there too early and seem too eager–even though he totally is. It’s been a few days since the late night call, and all he can think about is the little noises she’d made, the way his name sounded coming from her mouth. Heart pounding, he pulls up to the driveway of a cute little house, set a few streets away from the main road. There’s a neon green bike tossed haphazardly on the front lawn, covered in disturbing little alien stickers. There’s her car parked in the driveway. He pulls out his phone to send the I’m here text and decides it’d be better if he went to walk her out. 

The sun is just setting as he makes his way up the stone path to the front door. The porch step squeaks, just a little, and he pauses. Steps on it again, to make sure, listening to the wood groan under his heavy boot. That’s not right. His hand twitches towards a tool belt that’s not there and he huffs out a breath. There’s a rocking chair in the corner of the porch and a sad pot of wilted flowers next to the front door. He presses the doorbell, stepping back and–no answer. He presses it again, just in case, but once again no sound, no one coming to answer the door. He knocks, lightly at first and then more aggressive. And then he’s tackled to the side by something, stumbling back to try to keep his balance. A tiny figure is wrapped around one of his legs, clutching at the bottom of his jeans and growling lowly. 

“Ellie? What the–”

“Fuck,” she finishes gleefully, looking up at him with a crooked smile. She still hasn’t let go of his leg. “It’s you again.”

“It is me,” he agrees. “You gotta stop saying that though, ’s not a nice word. Where’s your aunt?” He knocks again, leaning against the doorframe to keep his balance.

“I think she’s still getting ready. Thought you were the babysitter. I don’t like babysitters, so I’m gonna sit her instead.” She growls again for emphasis. 

The front door flings open, startling both of them. And there she is, in a sweet little dress as she looks from him to Ellie and back again. She rubs a hand on her temple. 

“Ellie, can you please stay inside? Lucy should be here any second, I’m so sorry. Come in?” she tells Joel. He feels like an idiot, can’t think of anything except how beautiful she looks right now in the low light of the porch. Anxiety rises again in his stomach–what is she even doing with someone like him anyway?–but the smile she gives him, a shy little thing, puts him at ease immediately. He walks through the front door, dragging a giggling Ellie along with him, and puts all thoughts of nervousness out of his mind for the night.

–

“That dress looks good on you,” he says, lowly, when Ellie runs off to her room. She yells at him to stay put so she can show him the surprise–her favorite book of jokes, practically falling apart at the edges, dog-eared to the pages with her favorite ones.

You smooth the dress down. His eyes catch on the hem, the hint of bare skin there. His hair is pushed back and a little damp still–you want to smooth out the stray curl behind his ear, the way you wanted to all those weeks ago in the grocery store, but this time you can and you do, rubbing the tiny patch in his beard with your thumb.

“It’ll look better off, I think,” you say casually, just to feel the thumpthumpthump of his pulse under your hand.

Ellie comes skidding in the room before he can answer, already chattering a mile a minute as she tugs at his sleeve, directing him to sit on the couch and listen to her. He goes patiently, listening intently as she flips through to find her favorite joke (“Why did the bicycle fall over?” “I dunno, why?” “Because it was two tired, get it? Because it’s sleepy!”). You could watch them talk to each other all night, the patient way he sits back and waits for her to sound out the words, never trying to interrupt or rush her through her reading. 

Your phone beeps with a text, heart sinking as you see that your babysitter has decided to cancel last minute–something about a concert she’d gotten last minute tickets for. You must make a noise because Joel looks up immediately, brows furrowed.

“Babysitter just canceled,” you explain over Ellie’s cheering and whooping. “I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t have anyone else to watch her, it’s too last minute, should we–?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He’s up in a flash, rubbing his hands over your arms, pulling back to tip your chin up to look at him. “We can always stay here, it’s no problem. Or if you want to try a different day…”

“I just,” you lower your voice in case Ellie is still listening. “I really wanted one night just for me. I know it sounds selfish–I love her, but I’m still trying to get used to it all, having someone depending on me 24/7.”

“Believe me,” he whispers. “If anyone gets that, it’s me. Don’t have to feel guilty for wanting to have fun sometimes. You’re not just a parent–you can still a person, you know?” He holds out his arms and you burrow deeper, pressing your face into his chest, letting the steady rumble of his breathing settle you both. His phone makes a noise, vibrating against your leg from his pocket and he sighs, pulling back just enough to dig it out. His arm brushes your thigh and the little noise you make has him pausing. His eyes are dark when you meet his gaze. 

“Got an idea,” he says. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you back in for a slow kiss, the kind that leaves you dizzy when you pull back. “Hey Ellie,” he calls, voice rough. “Do you want to go see Sarah?”

She skids around the corner before he’s even done speaking. “Can I, please please please? We’ll be good, promise, best behavior, pleeeease?”

“Go get your jacket.” She turns around to say something and you stop her. “Leave the hammer at home, you don’t need it.” She pouts and nods–you remind yourself to check her bag before she gets out of the car.

Joel is by the door fiddling with his keys while you get ready, looking at the pictures hung up in the hallway. He pauses on one of your favorites, Ellie with her parents a few years ago, and when he notices you standing there he smiles. 

He looks thoughtfully at the backpack leash hanging from the keyhook. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“We don’t.”

–

It’s a little nervewracking to drop Ellie off at Joel’s house, to watch as his brother come to the door with a wave as she barrels out of the car towards the door. Sarah peeks out from behind his legs and lets out a happy scream when she sees it’s Ellie, pulling her in the door as Tommy waves you off. You wave back and swallow the guilt that’s building as Joel pulls away. His other hand rests on the center console and you grab it, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes once.

“They’ll be okay,” he says, like he can read your mind. “You hungry? I know we missed the movie but we could go at a later time, or just skip it and go to get food. Up to you.” 

He looks so nervous, a light flush starting under the collar of his shirt, his other hand reaching up to scratch at his beard when you roll to a stop. He’s so pretty in the red glow of the traffic light–you can’t stop looking at him. His eyebrow quirks when you don’t answer him right away, turning to face you fully. The nervousness fades away completely when you look at his hand on top of yours, so warm and solid and big, and imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t been interrupted earlier, if he’d fuck you with his big fingers if you asked nicely.

“Can we go home?”

“Home?” He sounds disappointed, a little confused, until you reach over and push your hand high up on his thigh, brushing the bulge there lightly. “Oh, home. Yeah, let me–yeah, fuck, of course.”

It’s a ten minute drive back to your house–he makes it there in five.

–

Seeing him here in your room feels surreal, like some kind of dream. He looks out of place here on your flower-print sheets, watching as you pull your dress off, leaving you in just your underwear. You want to pinch yourself, make sure this is real, but then his rough c’mere baby has you crawling over to settle on top of him, the rough denim of his jeans scratching at the inside of your thighs. 

His kiss is rough, a little desperate as he brings a hand up to cup the back of your head and bring you closer. It’s intoxicating and you tug at his shirt, off, off, a little whine caught in your throat when he doesn’t move right away, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck when you lean back. He sucks a mark right on your collarbone, pulling back to look at it.

“Gonna mark you up, make you mine,” he whispers. “You want that? Walk around ’n let everyone know you’re mine, baby?”

You nod, head spinning as he lifts his shirt up from the back, yanking it over his head and throwing it off to the side. It ruffles his hair even more, all wild fluffy curls. He’s so warm, practically burning underneath you as you explore his bare chest with your hands, the sparse hair tickling your palms as you make your way down down down towards the button of his jeans.

“Please take these off, need you to- to fuck me.” 

He flips you over before you finish speaking, hovering over you as you lay flat on the bed. He sits back, pulling you to the edge of the bed as you squeak and then he’s getting up, kneeling on the floor in front of you, holding your legs open with his broad shoulders. He looks up at you as he runs a hand along the band of your underwear, smiling when you push up into his touch, silently asking for more. 

“Let me taste you first, honey,” he coos. “Been thinkin’ about it since the other day–no, before that. First time I saw you at the zoo, you remember that? Thought about asking you to meet me in the bathroom right there, see if you were wet under those tiny shorts you were wearing, all wet for me.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, ducking his head to lick a stripe up your inner thigh and again in the crease there as he slowly–too slowly, what a tease–rolls your underwear down, murmuring good girl, so good for me when you lift your hips and let him pull them off. And then he’s just looking at you, bare and exposed, thumb pulling you open to look at the slick gathered there. Just for you, you tell him and he nods, letting his thumb barely graze your hole but you jolt anyway, so keyed up from the simple touch as he hums, it’s okay baby, you’re okay, i got you. He brings the same thumb up, a quick little swipe on your clit that takes your breath away, clenching around nothing as he watches greedily. He grips your hips in his hand, ordering you to stay put as he lowers himself back down, letting his warm breath fan over you until you’re squirming in his grasp.

“None of that,” Joel says, pressing you harder into the mattress. You can feel the bruises beginning to form there and you like it, the idea of a physical marker of him on you even after you’re done. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

He licks into you slowly with the flat of his tongue, pointing it to catch the edge of your clit on the way up, flicking over and over again as you pant and whine, more daddy please, need you, until he shushes you. One of his thick fingers circles your hole slowly, lightly, the barely-there touch driving you crazy. You reach a hand down to pull his hair, trying to get him to move and do something, anything.

“Touch me, touch me, c’mon,” you pant, too worked up to say anything else and he smiles, a quick press of teeth against your skin that makes your breath catch.

“I am touching you,” he says. He drags a finger up through your dripping folds, ignoring the tilt of your hips up as you try to get more contact. 

“Not fun–ah shit oh shit.” He presses two fingers in without warning, slowly, watching your face as the discomfort quickly turns to more more more. They’re so much bigger than yours, crooking just right to press along the sensitive spot that you can never reach alone. You clench around him, back arching as he rubs the pads of his fingers against the spot slowly, fucking his fingers in and out at a steady pace until you’re dripping all over them, slick running all down his wrist and pooling beneath you on the bed.

It’s so good, he’s so good, whispering in your ear the whole time–you’re such a good girl, letting me touch you, knew you’d have the prettiest pussy–so wet for me, gonna let me fuck you open, honey, can you be good and come for me now? Your breathing stops and when he thumbs your clit again that’s enough to send you over the edge, legs trying to clamp around his shoulders as he fucks you through it until you whine and he pulls away. You’re so empty, so vulnerable and exposed and raw and he lets you pull him up on top of you, licking the taste of you out of his mouth as he groans. His hand is wet when he grabs your jaw, slick smearing on the side of your face as he looks at you.

“Open your mouth,” Joel says and you do without hesitation, sticking your tongue out for his approval. He grunts, watching a string of spit fall from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. “Swallow it.” And you do, letting out a little mmph when he crashes his mouth back onto yours, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck me,” he breathes. “Dirty fuckin’ girl. You want me to fuck you now, pretty girl?”

You nod, yes yes please fuck me, and he reaches a hand down, tweaking your nipple between his damp fingers. “Words, baby, use your words.”

“Need you to fuck me daddy, want you to fill me up, p-please.” His thumb swipes over your nipple again as he soothes you, okay baby, okay, gonna fuck you now, ’s okay. He leans back, shucking his briefs down quickly before he’s hovering over you again, letting his cock rub against you, smearing your thigh with precome as you both groan. He’s as worked up and needy as you feel, shoving his hand between your bodies, the one with your come still clinging to his fingers, and wraps a hand around himself, so close you can feel the brush of the back of his hand against your clit. He slides his cock through your folds, letting the slick coat him, both of you gasping when the tip catches on your swollen clit. You hook an ankle around his back, trying to pull him even closer, and finally he stops teasing, pushing into you so so slowly, holding your breath as he fills you so deeply, your sigh rolling into a moan when he bottoms out. He holds himself there, not moving as you adjust to him–so fucking big–sucking a twin mark above your collarbone as he waits. And when you flex your foot, push it into his ass as you lift your hips up he grunts, fucking in a little at a time, more and more. The slapslapslap of your bodies is loud, almost completely drowned out by your panting.

“You see that? Look, honey, look how you’re taking daddy so well, such a good girl for me.” Your eyes fly open when he snaps his hips harder into you, grinding deep until you’re practically wailing. “Keep your eyes open baby, wanna see you when you–fuck, when you come for me.” 

It’s overwhelming, right at the point of being too much and he notices, rolling your clit gently between his fingers, whispering praise in your ear as he slows his thrusts. When you come it’s a relief, tensing under him as he talks you through it–thaaat’s it, so good for me, daddy’s good girl, such a good fuckin’ girl- gonna let me fill you up, give my baby a baby? bet you’d look so pretty knocked up with my baby, all full of me. let everyone know you’re mine. All you can do is chant his name over and over as he fucks you harder, the squelch echoing in your tiny room, and he finally comes when you say please daddy, fill me up, make me yours, give me a baby please please please–the stutter-fuck of his hips pressing deep into you, giving you all of his come, making sure none of it escapes when he finally pulls out and flops on his back next to you.

“Holy shit,” you say and he snorts.

“You think?” He groans, running his hand through his sweaty hair. “You good with all the…you know. Baby stuff?”

His face is red when you run a hand over his cheek, trying to hide the smile on your face. “Yes daddy, it’s fine. I needed that more than I thought.”

He presses a kiss to your scrunched up nose. “Any time. You don’t really want a–right?”

“Hell no.”

–

Two hours later, you go to pick up Ellie from Joel’s house. Tommy’s grin is wide when you walk in with Joel, both flushed and rumpled. 

“Looks like y’all had fun,” he says. “Girls are sleeping now. That Ellie, man…” you hold your breath, waiting for the inevitable ellie bit someone, ellie threw a shoe again, ellie ran outside to lay in the middle of the road that was sure to come. “...she’s a sweet kid. They had a lot of fun together.”

Your breath whooshes and you thank Tommy again, walking upstairs into what looks like Sarah’s room. At first you don’t see them in the dark, the blue light of the DVD menu flashing on the tv casting an eerie glow over the room. You almost step on them, sprawled out on the carpet, breathing deeply in the way that only small children can, completely oblivious to the world around them. In between them is Ellie’s joke book, propped opened to her favorite page–how did the telephone propose to his girlfriend? he gave her a ring!

And when she whispers your name as you tuck her into bed later, says ’m glad i get to stay here with you, i love you–you can’t help but think the two of you will be alright.

--

thank you for reading! ✨

#this literally killed me whew #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fic #lexi writes things #ok goodnight #shitty summary ik just trust me i guess

[arachine]

*slides a big fat twenty your way* uh how about a part two of that non traditional family dynamics with gojo

dinner and a disaster . . .

synopsis :: when your oldest daughter is at that age where boys are starting to become the focal point of her universe, you bring out the big guns — which in this case, unfortunately happens to be her father (who is not exactly the best when it comes to disciplining his little girls).

or, in other words, you and gojo play good cop bad cop.

genre :: fluff

contents :: co-parent!gojo, mentions of alcohol, heavy dialogue, time skip (the girls are 14 and 12 respectively), gojo is in distress !!!!

note :: link to part 1 + link to part 3

it's 10 pm when you text gojo about the latest happenings going on in your household.

it's also 10:01 pm when you answer his incoming face time call.

he's wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket, laying down on his bed with a pillow under his chin and a hand propped up to support his head—he's comfortable, to say the least, and 100% tuned in to hear about whatever it is that you just texted him.

"is this what you've been doing all day?" you query with a laugh. there's a brief look of confusion etched onto his face before he picks up on what you were implying. rolling his eyes, he scoffs.

"it was my day off," he pouts, "can't a man relax in his fuzzy blanket?"

you squint teasingly at the screen, then nod slowly before mouthing an 'uh-huh'.

"i didn't call you to get berated about my choice of blanket!"

"okay, okay! i'm sorry," you grab a napkin from your nightstand, waving it like a white flag of surrender. "such a baby..."

"says the one who could never take...you know what, i won't finish that."

"smart man," you smile. "i want to be mad at you sometimes but it's almost kinda impressive how easily you can change the atmosphere...i mean, wow! it's record-breaking, truly."

"ha...ha. alright. i overstepped my bounds, i get it. can we just...can we just get back to our daughter? i'm starting to regret calling you on my day off—which, by the way, was going so great."

"great, love that we're on the same page," you give him a thumbs up through the screen. before you can get into the nitty-gritty of the situation, you take a brief pause to prepare yourself for the dramatics about to ensue—because if you know anything about gojo satoru, you know he's definitely one for the dramatics.

"when i tell you this...i want you to stay calm, keep a level head, and most importantly, i want you not to scream," you say, opening your mouth again to emphasize the last part, "and it's important that you especially won't scream, okay?"

gojo mulls it over before committing, "i don't know...it depends on what you're gonna tell m-"

"just—just promise, gojo," you interrupt, clearly agitated.

"alright, i promise."

"okay, so there's a boy..."

you're mid-sentence when gojo's eye starts to twitch.

"and she's expressed to me that she wants to go on a date with him." when you finish, you're half expecting him to yell, and half expecting him to end the call. but he doesn't.

in fact, he's so still, you're almost convinced he's frozen, but then he begins to smile. slow at first, and then all at once. it's creepy, you think, something straight out of a horror film.

"i know this was a lot of information to process, are you...okay?"

"pfttt, what? of course, why wouldn't i be?"

"well, you look scary. maybe i shouldn't have told yo-"

"SHE WANTS TO WHAT?"

and there it is. gojo satoru, king of dramatics.

"my little girl, my baby, my princess. she's only 10!-"

"she's 14."

"same thing, how could you let this happen?!"

"what happened to not yelling?! you promised!"

"oh be serious, i made a vow to you 14 years ago and look where we are now," he whisper-yells, trying (and failing) to contain his voice.

"dammit, you're right...well, at least we're on the same page! we both don't want this date to happen." when you take another glance at the screen, gojo's no longer laying down on his bed, but up and pacing around his room like a mad man.

you watch him for awhile, and when he doesn't seem to be coming back any time you soon, you call his name, "satoru."

"what?!" he turns to the phone. glaring at him, you wait for him to check his tone. "sorry, what?"

"i was thinking tomorrow you could come over for dinner? it'd give us a chance to talk to her about it...so that it's not just me telling her no."

"so, what i'm hearing is that you want her to hate me too?"

"no, i'm saying i want us to be a team. so, can you come over tomorrow? can you do that?" you ask, raising a brow.

"yeah, i'll be there."

at the same time the oven alarm goes off, gojo arrives. you can see his car pull into the drive way from where you are in the kitchen, and you mentally curse yourself for not getting ready sooner.

"fuck, uh okay," you throw your oven mitts, "hon, can you get the door for your dad? i need to go upstairs and get changed."

the youngest gets up from her place on the couch, "sure, wait...dad's staying for dinner? what's the occasion?"

you're halfway up the stairs before you stop, "enough questions, please. just open the door, thank youuuu."

ambling from the living room to the foyer, she opens the front door. gojo smiles, and immediately lifts her up into a bone-crushing hug that only a dad could give.

"hey bug, missed you," he squeezes her, much to her behest.

"ugh, dadddd, put me down," she drawls, pawing at his chest. gojo frowns and puts her down, putting a hand over his heart as if he were shot.

"you used to love that, you know."

"yeah, when i was like five."

"are you not?" he teases, but she's not amused. he nudges her arm annoyingly until she begins to smile. "there we go, punk. now can i have a real hug? you're hurting my feelings."

like a true pre-teen, she rolls her eyes and reluctantly trudges over to him, then opens her arms up for a hug. at this stage, you've noticed that hugs are okay, but only when it's on their own terms—and you especially can't initiate them when their friends are around (you learned that the hard way).

when they pull away, gojo takes his shoes off and wanders through the house. "where's the other brat at?"

"upstairs."

gojo nods, "uh-huh...where's your mom at?"

"right here." gojo hears you before he sees you, and then he lifts his head up to see you at the top of the stairs standing behind the banister. before you make your way downstairs, you waltz over to your daughter's room and knock on the door.

"hey, dinner's ready. come on downstairs. somebody's here to see you." as you begin turning around, the door flies open and out comes your moody teenage daughter.

"who is it?" she queries, following behind you like a duckling.

from where he stands at the bottom of the staircase, gojo raises a hand and waves.

"hey, scrub."

"dad? what are you doing here?" your oldest questions, but still goes in for a hug.

"your mom invited me over for dinner, that cool with you?"

she nods, then turns to her sister. they exchange a knowing look that, if translated, would be: something's definitely up. they wait for you and gojo to head to the kitchen before having a quick debrief.

"you definitely did something," the youngest side eyes.

"wha-why would you think i did something? you're the one failing a class," she rebuttals.

"ok well...this isn't about me! they only get together when one of us does something. don't you see? they're teaming up...this is an intervention."

the oldest pinches the space between her brows, "i can see why you're failing english now, because the way you just jumped to conclusions like that is actually insane."

dinner goes by without a hitch. for majority of it, you spend the time talking about work, school (which seems like a sensitive subject because the youngest wouldn't look either of you in the eye), and the plot of this hbo show with adult kids who're trying to take over their father's company.

gojo brings it up, of course, and jokingly says that the show was written with him in mind. he asks the girls if they'll fight over who'll inherit the company when he dies, and it turns into a i'm the better daughter debate.

when it gets a little too rowdy, you have to remind them that this is all hypothetical and that their father is a menace who likes to cause chaos whenever possible. gojo pouts and says you're no fun, but quickly fixes his face when he sees your pointed glare.

"come help me with the dishes," you say, and then disappear into the kitchen.

the two of you fall back into old habits. you wash the dishes, he dries and sets them on the rack. it feels like it did in the beginning, only this time, he'll be leaving when the two of you set out to do what you originally intended.

"dinner was nice," he says after about 10 minutes of comfortable silence. he doesn't look up, doesn't even make a joke about your cooking (which, you were totally expecting him to do). instead, he just continues drying the plate you handed to him.

"you know, you're welcomed to come again. you don't always have to be away in that apartment all by yourself," you start, choosing your words carefully, gently. "the girls like eating with their dad."

"i like eating with them too. i guess i'll start coming by more often then."

you almost miss it but there's a smile on his face, and it's genuine. instead of pointing it out, you savor the moment.

your reasoning for his coming here was to talk to your daughter, but it was also to get him out of the apartment. see, you were sneaky like him too, and what he didn't know wouldn't kill him. to you, this was just hitting two birds with one stone.

when you finish up, the two of you discuss the plan over for what seems like the 100th time.

"so, we're gonna go in there and be cool about it, okay? we won't hound her. we're just gonna tell her like it is, and then let her down gently. got it?"

"got it."

"after you," gojo extends his arm.

"wha-ugh, fine."

as you lead the way, gojo has to keep a hand on your back to keep you from turning back around. so far, you've attempted to retreat five times—you're two feet away from the kitchen entrance.

"will you just go?" there's irritation laced in his tone.

"okay, just stop pushing me."

"no promises, keep walking."

you sigh, but heed his request. with a hand still on your back, he guides you all the way to the living room. the girls are watching tv but quickly avert their focus when they notice you standing next to the couch with a freakish smile plastered on your face. gojo whispers in your ear to be cool and you immediately gather your wits.

"mom...your face...dad what's wrong with her face she's scaring me," the youngest pauses the tv.

"sweetie, will you go upstairs for a minute? your dad and i have to talk to your sister."

seeming to be catching on, she gets up from the couch and says a 'told you' to her sister before running upstairs. you and gojo share a look.

"what's up?" she asks, still weirded out.

"you see, well...we've been talking and..." you start, "your father has something he wants to tell you!"

gojo snaps his head towards you, gasping in the same motion. "hey, what the hell happened to being cool?"

"no promises, remember?"

"oh, you litt-"

"dad."

"sorry, uh, shit. i wasn't prepared for this. this wasn't the plan," he begins, "so, i heard there's a boy...and...you're at that age where boys are cute..."

she looks at the two of you in abhor and groans. gojo pauses briefly, but you encourage him to continue.

"and i've come to understand that you're interested in one and want to go on a date?"

"yeah."

"oh...okay well, i—we just don't think that's a good idea. you're 14, in school, and honey, you're so young...you have your whole life to be interested in boys."

"wait, what do you mean 'we'?"

"your mom and i talked about it and-"

"mom said she was fine with it."

gojo smiles in shock and then blinks, once, twice, three times.

"we'll be back," he announces, pulling you by the arm to the kitchen.

when you get to the kitchen, he releases your arm and pinches the skin between his brows. it takes all of about five seconds before he erupts.

"'we're a team, satoru', 'we're in this together', bullshit! you wanted me to be the bad cop, didn't you?"

"not initial-"

"didn't you!"

"okay, sorry! i may have...gave in when she asked, but i figured you'd be able to tell her no!"

"why would you think that!? she's my little girl!"

"she's my little girl too!"

gojo walks over to the cabinet and pulls out a glass. "i can't right now, i need a drink. what do you have?"

opening another cabinet, you pull out a bottle of pink whitney. gojo sucks his teeth. it was such a girl drink, but it was all you had so beggars couldn't be choosers. shrugging, he raises his glass for you to pour the drink into.

grabbing another glass, you sit down and join him.

"we've been had, huh?"

"how is that?"

"because we both can't say no to her."

gojo raises his glass to his lips and swallows it all down in a few gulps.

your daughter goes on a date the following week, and gojo starts looking into trackers.

© arachine 2023

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader fluff #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #:: — LEXI WRITES !

[a-little-unsteddie]

stuck in your throat || a/b/o

hi so today is @lexirosewrites’s birthday today and like,, idk three or so weeks ago she followed me (hi lexi <3 happy birthday <3 hope today has been fun <3) and to celebrate both of those things i started writing an omegaverse fic, and i wanted it done by today but it is grew a mind of its’ own and now it’s much bigger than i thought it’d be so instead of the full fic, have a snippet <3

again, happy birthday lexi <3

“Hello?” Steve answered, having learned to not open the call with who was answering without knowing who was calling from one too many scam calls

“Is this Steve Harrington?” A soft feminine voice asked, taking Steve by surprise.

“May I ask who’s calling?” Steve asked, not willing to concede his identity until he knew it wasn’t someone looking to sell him ‘Alpha Pills’ or something just as ridiculous.

“Of course! My name is Chrissy Cunningham, you sent in an application for being a full time nanny and tutor?” She responded with a cheerful voice. “I can’t <i>really</i> go much more in depth without an NDA being signed.”

Recognition zapped through Steve’s body and he sat up in his seat. “Oh! Yes, I’m Steve. Um. I’d be happy to sign an NDA, just may I ask why?”

“Yes, you may! My client is a big fan of privacy and only agreed to hire someone if they were under an NDA for the protection of their pup.” aaand all of Steve’s anxiety surrounding the NDA pretty much melted away. Sure, maybe it was a bit much to do, and sure, now he was dying with curiosity to know just <i>who</i> he had ended up applying to, but the knowledge that the NDA was for the protection of the pup soothed any anxiety Steve had originally felt about signing an NDA. In fact, it kind of made his omega perk up. He shook off the feeling, focusing on Chrissy.

“That’s actually really relieving to hear,” Steve said with a laugh. “When or where can I sign the NDA?” he questioned, wondering when Robin would be home so he could tell her.

“Well, first, you and I will do a preliminary interview, just like any other job interview. Then, if all goes well, I’ll send you an email containing the NDA for you to review and sign,” Chrissy explained clearly and cheerfully. “After you sign the NDA, my client will perform an in-person interview and then we’ll go from there.”

“That all seems pretty straight forward so far,” Steve replied, standing from where he had been lounging on the couch. He walked to the kitchen, where he and Robin had put up a magnetic whiteboard calendar to fill with each of their schedules and plans. He grabbed the blue marker, his color, and prepared to jot down when they’d have the interview.

“Perfect! Happy to hear it,” Chrissy said with an audible smile.

“When will the interview with you be?” Steve asked, biting his lip as he stared at the calendar, which had sparsely been marked with his blue marker, even since starting this job hunt. Robin’s plans were in red, and was much more abundant due to having three part time jobs.

“Well, as soon as possible, really. If you’re available now, we could take care of it right away.” the woman responded, sounding like she was walking into another room.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, recapping the marker and returning it to the pen holder. “Yes, of course. I’m available now.”

“Perfect!” Chrissy’s voice sounded from Steve’s phone as the omega walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. “So, starting off pretty easy here, what made you apply for this position?”

Steve thought back and grimaced at the reminder that it was Robin who had submitted his application to this particular job. He wasn’t about to admit that, though, and quickly found a more appropriate response.

“Well, I love taking care of pups, and I just got my teacher’s license a month ago,” Steve explained, which wasn’t a lie, so he figured it was probably as good of an answer as any. “I also saw that this job traveled, and my best friend thought that it’d be good for me.”

“Yes, that was going to be part of this conversation, too. So, you’re obviously alright with the traveling, then?” Chrissy asked and Steve heard what he thought could be pen scratching as she wrote notes. He swallowed thickly, suddenly anxious about what she was writing. He decided to ignore his anxiety, even as his scent soured around him with it.

“Oh, yes, traveling is more than okay,” Steve agreed immediately, “but it’s more important to me that I’ll be taking care of a pup, if I’m honest.”

This statement seemed to pique Chrissy’s attention, as the writing stopped for a moment. “Why is that?” she eventually asked.

Steve winced, wondering if he should be up front about it or not. If Robin were here, she would insist that he was honest. He decided on a half-truth.

“I’ve always wanted pups, and a lot of them,” Steve admitted, fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on the couch. He switched which arm was holding the phone, as he had started to get a little sore from holding it up for so long. “But I don’t have a partner, so I can’t really have my own right now. I discovered through babysitting for one of my neighbors that I have a knack for taking care of pups.”

The scratching noise was back as Chrissy listened to his responses. Steve was nervous he wasn’t doing well, but figured that it wasn’t going bad if she wasn’t suddenly calling the interview short.

“Your resume says that you’re good in high stress situations,” Chrissy said after a couple seconds of silence as she wrote down whatever notes she was taking. Steve briefly wondered if he should be doing the same thing. “I’m going to give you an example scenario, and you’re going to tell me how you’d respond.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Steve agreed, trying not to let his voice betray how anxious he was.

“For the sake of simplicity, we’ll say the pup’s name is Rosie,” she informed him before she continued to describe the scenario. “You’re taking Rosie to the park, when suddenly there is a crowd of people surrounding you and you lose sight of her. What do you do?”

Steve thought the scenario was odd, but not ‘out there’ enough to alarm him. He thought about his answer for a moment before replying.

“I would try to follow her scent, first, because that will usually lead me to any pup I’ve babysat. If that doesn’t work, I will call out for her. If the situation is bad enough, I would contact the authorities, and either you or Rosie’s father.” he paused for a second before continuing, trying to make sure he covered all of his bases. “But honestly? If Rosie is small enough, I would have rather carried her once I saw the crowd, or hold her hand, for the reason of lowering my chances of separation.”

Silence that’s only broken up by the scratching of pen against paper followed, and Steve was suddenly anxious that he answered incorrectly. He answered what he would do if it were his own pup, but what if that wasn’t right? What if he wasn’t cut out for this job?

“Alright, next scenario,” Chrissy said, moving swiftly onto the next one without commenting on his answer; Steve didn’t know if he preferred her not acknowledging it or if he would prefer to be told his answer was shitty up front. The next few scenarios were just as oddly specific, but Steve answered them exactly as he did the first one. He tried to not overthink his answers too much because between each one there would be a stretch of time that Chrissy used to presumably write his answers down.

“One last question and then we should be good to move forward.” Chrissy said a good twenty minutes of questions later. “When would you be available to start working?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, surprised that he was seemingly, maybe being offered the job. “Um—immediately. I would need time to pack, but other than that, I’m free.”

“Wonderful,” Chrissy said cheerfully. “Alright, now it’s your turn. Do you have any questions for me?”

Steve hummed, trying to go through his usual list of questions he asked during interviews that hadn't already been answered and came up empty. “Not at the moment, but I’ll make sure to write any I think of down, if I do.”

“Perfect! So, I will consult with my client, and I have a few other applicants that are interested, but so far, you are my top pick, but I don’t make the decisions,” Chrissy laughed, as if Steve was in on the joke. He laughed with her, not knowing what else he should have done. So, maybe not a job offer, but it sounded promising anyway. “I will be in contact in a few days, three at most.”

“Sounds good, thank you so much for considering me, Chrissy,” he responded with a smile, hoping to leave one last good impression.

#whdbehsh i literally screamed when you followed me lexi #and then showed it to everyone i’m friends with in steddie #and was like ‘well now i GOTTA write an omegaverse fic’ #snd they were like ‘well you don’t gotta’ #and i was like ‘no i do. and i will.’ #and then i did 😌 #steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #eventually eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #pre steddie #tw a/b/o #tw omegaverse #oh heck also #mentions robin buckley #stuck in your throat #unsteddie writing

[thefreakandthehair]

Eddie ends up at the annual SuperBowl party with his and Steve’s friends, which Eddie truthfully doesn’t give a single shit about but he’s learned exactly how feral Steve gets about these sporting events, and that? That he gives a lot of shits about.

The way Steve sits at the edge of the couch, jumping up in both excitement and rage, the way his hair ends up in his eyes before angrily shoving it back with both hands, the way his jaw clenches and a light sheen of sweat blooms across his neck and down his chest as he bends down with his hands on his knees, voice croaking from yelling better plays and something-something wrap up, third down. Passionate Steve is radiant and beautiful, and Eddie could never pass up the opportunity for such a show.

During the pre-show, their friends discuss the best aspects of SuperBowl Sunday. Robin and Nancy are there there for the food, Argyle and Jeff are there for the commercials, Jonathan and Gareth agree that they actually enjoy the game but won’t say no to a good onion dip either, and Chrissy is with Steve in the here for the game most of all territory.

“How about you, Eddie? Food or commercials? I know it’s not the game.” Steve teases, bumping their shoulders together with a salsa-loaded corn chip in one hand.

“Oh, Steve,” Eddie grins and his eyes flash playfully. “It’s always I’m here for the game, I’m here for the food, I’m here for the commercials, blah blah blah. I’m just here to watch my boyfriend lose his shit over a game he’s not even in and then use that adrenaline rush to my advantage after.”

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #idk what this even is but i was talking to lexi and had this idea #but have to write another thing so here have this blurb #myfic #myblurbs #lore and more

[princekeerys]

ugh thinking of child!deer reader and alastor ☹️☹️ he takes her in because she's clueless as to why she's in hell and the little bit of sympathy he does have left goes to this clueless little girl. he raises her under his wing and cherishes her like a daughter ☹️☹️☹️

i don’t write for child!reader, but for you i’ll make an exception

when i think of alastor with a kid, i automatically think of his relationship with nifty. homeboy is so gentle and caring with her, he’s rarely like that with anyone else (minus charlie, but that’s different).

if he were to find reader as a child who just so happens to be a deer like him, all alone in the big bad world of pentagram city, he would dig wayyy deep down in that soul of his to find a part that isn’t cold, just to take them by the hand and say “don’t be afraid, sweetheart, you’re with me now” and he would absolutely introduce them to nifty and watch them get along because it’s like he has two daughters (nifty in my mind is like a daughter to him, shush). and he most definitely protects her from the overlords and adam because “if anyone touches a hair on their head, i will make sure to murder you in broad daylight, and broadcast your screams for every other disrespectful sinner as a reminder. understood?”

#❥ lexi’s daydreams #yeah i don’t write for child!reader ever sorry if this is thee worst concept lmao #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #alastor x you #alastor fanfiction

[bluemusickid]

ok i have INSAAAANE brainrot from that video of the couple cuddling. It reminds me of Older!Joel Miller and his boo

warnings: a lil smut, tons of fluff; basically just me yapping, video undercut (slightly nsfw)

imagine coming home from work just EXHAUSTED. Like weary and frustrated. All you want to do is shut off for the day, and do nothing.

Joel sees you and knows what he has to do. Firstly, he runs you a bath, filled to the brim with decadent bath oils and salts. He undresses you with care, kissing every inch of skin he exposes as he does so. Helping you into the bath, he positions himself behind you, pulling you to lay against him. It feels amazing, allowing yourself to sag against him as he massages your arms, your shoulders; his firm grip and slightly rough skin, a strong contrast to the way he was providing you relief. You could feel the stress from your body seep away as you allowed yourself respite from a long, long day.

The bath was wonderful, but even better was the way Joel's fingers felt on you, lightly massaging your clit as he leaves soft featherlight kisses along your neck, your back, your ears... he would make sure you came atleast twice before you left the bath.

After he dries you and wraps you in a fluffy towel, he would gently place you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms. Softly stroking your hair, he would whisper sweet nothings in your ear till he could feel you drift off into sleep.

🥲🫶🏽🫠😭💝

#pedro pascal #joel miller #lexi writes #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedrohub #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x oc #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x plus size! reader

[devillexi]

Walking In On Their S/O Masturbate

BSD Headcanons

Warning: degradation, use of the word slut, extremely smutty, afab reader, etc.

Hope you enjoy!

Dazai:

• Usually after work, Dazai liked to hang out at your place, so he could tell you all about his day.

• But he didn't expect to find you pleasuring yourself in bed. You were so preoccupied with chasing after your own release that you didn't notice him standing in the doorway.

• He was in a trance really. Seeing your fingers work so desperately, in and out, opening your pretty pussy. Your slick pooling underneath you, leaving a wet spot on the bed. It was a magnificent sight to come home to.

• He couldn't take just watching any longer when you started whimpering his name, frustrated with how your fingers weren't enough compared to his cock that would often ravage, wreck, and destroy your pussy.

• You were startled out of your stupor when you felt something touch your hand and gasped when you saw it was Dazai. Your face blew up in a sea of red as you asked him how long had he been there.

• His answer: "Just long enough to get me hard, my belladonna. If your pretty fingers aren't enough to satisfy you, then I'll replace them with something that will."

• It's a long week before you could finally walk properly after that.

Chuuya:

• You little minx...! How could you masturbate without him!? You know he likes to watch.

• As punishment for touching yourself without his explicit permission, he uses his ability on you to lift you off the bed. An absolutely startling surprise for you as you had no idea he was there.

• You shrieked and called out his name in surprise. He smirked as he watched you desperately tried to sturdy yourself but you were in the air. What could you possibly balance yourself on?

• "My naughty kitten...what was that you were just doing a moment ago?"

• "Ch-Chuuya!? Put me down!"

• "Not until you finish that little performance you were doing. Ah, what was it? Stuffing your fucking cunt without my supervision!"

• You were ticked off for being interrupted. You were so close to reaching your high!

• You wanted to be let down, but this position of being suspended in mid air with your legs open was tempting as well.

• Chuuya could see it in your eyes and smirked, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Why don't you go ahead and show me just how you were pleasuring yourself, huh? Lemme see, baby."

• His husky voice, heavy with lust, tempted you and you brought your hands back to your soaking cunt.

• "That's it, baby," he coaxed you, a tightness forming in his pants as you held his gaze. He licked his lips as you circled your fingers around your clit and groaned out, "Do a good job and I'll reward you good, baby."

• "Promise, Chuu?"

• "Oh, it's a promise. Now work those fingers and cum for me. I want to see you dripping on this fucking floor."

Rampo:

• His deduction skills was what lead him here in front of your bedroom door as it stood open, slightly ajar. You see, Rampo had noticed a couple of changes that had him curious. Whenever he came by, he noticed that your sheets would be replaced and there was often a heavily perfume smell in the room. Now the sheets by themselves wouldn't have been a clue if it wasnt for the fact that you change them before he arrives, every other day. And the heavy fragrant smell was just the tip of the iceberg. So naturally he became curious about what you were hiding from him, but he already knew what it was.

• He watched as you plunged your pink dildo into your tight heat. Your legs trembling as they laid wide open for the whole world to see. He watched as your dainty fingers circled your clit as you repeatedly sunk your dildo deeper and deeper.

• He knew that this was what you were doing but his poor feelings were still hurt. Why masturbate when he can give you just what you need? Was your little toy more satisfying than his cock? He thinks the fuck not. He becomes increasingly angry at the thought of you masturbating and pleasuring yourself without his permission. Your pussy belongs to him.

• Unable and unwilling to witness such travesty, he barged into your room, startling you.

• "So this is what you've been up to? You've been so sneaky I almost had the wrong impression that you were cheating on me!," he glared. Your heated face flushed an even more bright crimson.

• "Ra-Rampo, I thought-"

• "Save it. I think you're in need of a punishment," he said as he stalked over, taking hold of your dildo as he stared you down. "This filthy thing's been hogging my pussy. Who gave you permission to do this, slut?"

• You stammered, stumbling over your words, unable to give him a proper answer. It didn't matter though as Rampo removed the offensive thing, forcing it out of you and making you yelp. He discarded it haphazardly in the corner of your room.

• "If you're gonna please this cunt, it's only going to be through me. I guess I gotta teach you who this pussy belongs to, huh?"

• You could only whimper as your legs were spread and Rampo slid in between. You could see the fury and lust swirl behind his eyes as he eyed how soaking wet you were.

• "So disappointing," he sighed, already unbuckling his belt. "Who knew you'd go behind my back like this, you little slut?"

#bsd smut #lexi writes #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #osamu dazai #edogawa ranpo #dazai smut #nakahara chuuya smut #edogawa ranpo smut #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd ranpo

[stay-close]

I just can’t think about anything or anybody and I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. I can’t eat. And I love you. I love you all the time. Every minute of every day. I love you.

Lexie Grey (Grey’s Anatomy E8.22)

#Lexie Grey (Grey’s Anatomy E8.22) #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[the-devils-girl94]

When Their Shy S/O Asks To Do It: Lucifer

((There will be multiple parts dedicated to each character. Hope you guys enjoy Lucifer's part, even though there's no smut. Some suggestive scenes though.))

He noticed you glancing at the clock every now and again. You would fidget with your hands and then steal a glance at him, only to quickly look away. He could tell you wanted to ask him something but your shy nature was preventing you from voicing what you wanted to say. So, he calls out to you,

"MC, what's the matter?"

You blushed and shook your head. "It's-Its nothing!," you stuttered. You could feel Lucifer's eyes boring into you, but still you avoided his gaze. The Avatar of Pride sighed and stood from his chair, making careful strides towards you.

You jumped, startled, when you felt his hand on your shoulder and turned your head to see him sitting beside you. Lucifer brought you to his chest, concern resting on his features as he stared at you.

"Tell me, MC. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's bothering you."

As his arms wrapped around you, your face became buried in his chest. You caught a whiff of his scent and it made your head spin, making your already flushed face heat up a couple more degrees. You were nervous to say what was troubling you.

Nervous to say you were feeling...needy.

You knew Lucifer would never make fun of you for asking. If anything, he would immediately stop what he was doing just to attend to your needs, your unsatisfied desires. But it was hard for you to muster that courage to say it.

Even practicing in front of a mirror couldn't help you.

However, being in Lucifer's embrace calmed your nerves enough to ease your racing mind. You felt you could do it. You had to do it. Otherwise, the rising heat in your belly will never be cooled.

Exhaling out a sigh, you raised your head to meet Lucifer's red eyes. Those concerned, worrying ruby orbs stared back into yours. He watched as your lips parted and you spoke, "I was wondering..."

"Wondering what, love?"

The soft tone of Lucifer's voice had you lower your head again, causing the anxious demon to worry more. Yet, you continued.

"I was just wondering if it's too early...to-to go back to the bedroom."

It was then that Lucifer connected your earlier behavior to now and understood why you were so nervous. He chuckled softly, making you look at him with a red face. You wanted to hide now.

You brought your hands to cover your face, but they were stopped by another pair of hands. Your chin was lifted and you saw Lucifer's smirking face. Blushing, you tried to look away, but Lucifer kept your gaze solely on him.

"My dear MC," he said, his voice soft and caressing your reddened ears. "You want me? Is that what you were trying to tell me, love?"

"Y-yes," you stammered. Looking at the Avatar of Pride was beginning to fuel to the starter fire inside. "I'm saying I want you."

Lucifer let out an amused huff. You squeaked as you were suddenly picked up, only to be laid back down on the sofa with Lucifer on top of you. His eyes were focused on your lips. His smirked widened when he brought his leather gloved hand to your chin, using his thumb to swipe at your bottom lip. You subconsciously licked your bottom lip, making Lucifer sit up to loosen his tie. He stared down at you as he asked you this,

"Then do you want to go back to the bedroom? Or should I take you here on this sofa, right in my office, my needy MC?"

#obey me #obey me lucifer #lexi writes #when their shy S/O asks to do it #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me smut

[mamachasesmayhem]

Cardinal Rule • Crawl Into Me

Master | One | Three

Pairing: Jake Seresin x oc Lexi Knox

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI. Completely fictional and probably highly inaccurate FBI related scenarios. Violence. Girls in male dominated fields because we love badasses with good asses. Fragile male egos. Pining idiots. Best friend's brother. Hidden feelings. Full send on the brat taming, hair pulling, head pushing Jake smut! Probably more, let me know if I miss anything!

A/N: I fully intended to include plot in this chapter, but then decided this filth deserved its own chapter 🥵. HUGE thank you to @trickphotography2 @dizzybee03 @sarahsmi13s @hangmansgbaby @callsigncurse @jynxmirage & @aviatorobsessed for beta reading for me! 💕

“I just knew you’d end up in my bed tonight,” Jake nips at the skin of her neck. “We both know only I can take care of you like you need. Pencil pusher tried, but he couldn’t make you feel like I do, huh? All that adrenaline pulsing through you right now makes you a fuckin’ brat and he can’t tame you. Nobody can. Nobody can do it like I can, isn’t that right, darlin’?”

“Just your bed? You getting vanilla in your old age, Tex?” Lex teases, tilting her head defiantly.

Jake grips her hips tighter and quickly spins her so her front is sharply pressed against the door. “Oh, Louie girl. You’re gonna regret that later.”

Jake’s hand slips up to tangle in the hair at the base of her neck, tugging gently until her head rests against his chest. She may be a professional bullshitter, but Jake doesn’t miss the small gasp at his display of dominance.

“Good luck, you don’t scare me, lieutenant.” Lex’s lips stretch into a devious smile at the intentional use of a lower rank.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten my promotion already, darlin’. Almost a year’s worth of bad dick fuck with your memory, agent?” His hand tightens in her hair before pulling harshly, tipping her head back until she’s craning her neck to look up at him.

Her upper lip pulls a snarl on instinct. “It’s doctor, Jacob.”

“Oooh, using the full name. So mean to me, Shortcake.” With that, Jake steps away abruptly, causing Lex to stumble and brace against the door. “Hands stay there.”

His voice is low and gravelly and Lex knows better than to argue at this exact moment. Jake’s hands make quick work of removing her shirt and the cutoff denim that’s had him half hard most of the night, leaving her in only black lace. He pulls her hair over one shoulder, exposing the skin of the opposite side. His hand cups her jaw again and tilts it to the side, leaving her neck and shoulder wide open for bruising kisses.

His lips find her skin in a flash, sucking and biting until he knows he’ll leave marks, and his hands skate across her abdomen. One stops just as his fingertips dip into the elastic of her thong and the other slips inside the lacey cup of her bra, palming at the heartbeat under her warm skin.

The calluses of his hands scratch against her, causing her to arch further into his palms in search of friction.

“Uh uh, honey. Ya gotta ask nicely,” Jake tsks.

“Please, Jake,” she whines.

“Nope, that’s not it. You know you won’t get what you want while you’re bein’ a fuckin’ brat. Good girls get rewarded.”

His lips ghost across her neck and shoulder in between words, adding fuel to the rapidly growing fire between them.

Lex grumbles what is most definitely a string of profanity before finally giving in with a desperate sigh. “Please, Commander Seresin.”

Jake’s teeth sink into her shoulder as a reward and his hands start moving. “There’s my girl. Anything for you, Doctor Knox.”

Jake’s thumbs trace the lacy band until they meet in the middle and push through the delicate pattern. The sound of ripping fabric meets Lex’s ears as a rush of cool air hits the newly exposed skin.

“Always so pretty for me, aren’t ya, Lou,” Jake muses before dropping to his knees.

“Always so mouthy for me, aren’t ya-AH!” Lex yelps as Jake sinks his teeth into the junction where her thigh meets her ass.

“You were saying?”

She can feel his cheeky grin against, well, her cheek, and she’d slap it off of him if he were within reach.

Jake’s tongue trails across the crease before the back of his hand smacks against the inside of her thigh. “Wider, darlin’. I need some room to work here.”

Lex follows through with his request quickly and is rewarded with his nose teasing her.

“Always smell so good, fuck,” he murmurs before diving in.

If her hands weren’t already braced against the door, she surely would have fallen into a heap on the floor when his tongue traced her wetness.

He alternates between languid, sloppy kisses to her entrance and sucks and nips at her clit before she’s reaching back to sink her hand into his hair, trying to guide his movements.

“Oh, honey. If you can still think, I’m not doing my job right,” Jake tsks, rising from his knees.

Lex lets out an indignant huff and turns to face him. “Well maybe if you’d quit fucking talking for once, I’d have already cum.”

Jake’s hand darts out to tip her face up to him, both of them battling for dominance with the stare down.

“That’s how you wanna play it? Fine, but remember you asked for it,” he tells her with dark eyes.

Lex just smirks, fully aware of what’s coming next.

In a well practiced move, Jake hooks a foot behind her leg and pushes down on her shoulder, causing her to drop to her knees. He tangles a hand in her hair again and pulls until she’s staring up at him. He uses his free hand to undo his belt and button of his jeans before pulling his already hard cock. He guides it towards her mouth, rubbing the tip against her smiling lips.

Holy fuck, is she the sweetest sin, Jake thinks to himself.

“Open,” he demands and she complies. “Good girl, now take what we both know you want.”

She doesn’t waste any time, her tongue darting out to coat him in saliva so she can take him quicker. Lex is always amped on adrenaline after a takedown, and nobody understands that feeling quite like Jake does.

Lex is one of those girls who revels in knowing she can make a man’s knees buckle, so she takes pleasure in switching between languid strokes of her tongue and harsh sucks up and down his shaft. When she finally wraps her lips around him, Jake pushes against the back of her head and further down his length.

“Don’t tease, darlin’. Fuckin’ take it like I know you can,” he grunts.

Lex takes a deep breath in through her nose and swallows around him, fighting her gag reflex with all she’s got. Jake’s grip holds her head in place as he quickly rolls his hips and bottoms out in her throat. He holds his place for a few seconds before pulling out completely, leaving Lex gulping for air as her eyes leak tears.

“You ready to behave?” Jake asks, gently cupping her cheek with the hand not tangled in her hair.

“I’m getting there,” she smirks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Fuckin’ Christ, Lou,” Jake mutters, bending down and scooping her up to throw her over his shoulder.

Lex yelps at the display of dominance but would be lying if she said she didn’t love being manhandled by him. With a job that has her keeping reinforced walls up at all times, she knows she can always count on Jake to break them down and take care of her in just the way she needs. She doesn’t have to be on the offensive or calculating her next move, she just has to feel, and damn if that isn’t the most freeing feeling.

She had learned the hard way a time or two that gentle, passionate loving wasn’t what she needed on a high like this. She’d never been more frustrated than when she was showered with praises instead of bruising kisses. The next time around, she and Jake were both unattached, and he knew exactly what she needed. The unmatched elation of doing your job and doing it damn well was something Jake was well versed in, and he took her apart at the speed of light that night. She’s made it a habit to be single soon after an op like today’s for that reason alone.

Soon, she’s being thrown roughly against the soft bedding she helped Jake pick out a few months back and Jake is glaring down at her. “Bra off.”

She sits up and unclasps her bra while Jake shucks off his own clothes until they’re both bare before each other. In one fluid motion, Jake snakes an arm around her back and rolls them until he’s underneath her and she’s straddling his hips.

Warm hands land on her hips, gripping as she reaches for the drawer of the nightstand behind his head to grab a condom. That was rule one of her 3 between them; regardless of the fact they both had clean bills of health and she had an IUD, they never went without protection. She ripped the foil open with her teeth and handed the rubber to Jake to slip over himself.

Once he was fully sheathed, he shifted until the tip tapped at her clit. “Go on, Lou. Take what you want. I know you’ve got more shit to talk, get it out now while you can still form words other than my name,” he grins deviously at her.

“God, Seresin. You talk such a big game, but here I am, still as frustrated as I was when I walked through the door 15 minutes ago,” she snarks as she slides up and down Jake’s length, not ready for him to push inside just yet. “Where’s that big dick aviator energy, huh? Gettin’ a little rusty with your new hardware, flyboy?”

This is the game they’ve perfected, pushing each other's buttons until one of them snaps and loses control. It’s a rigged game, really, because she’s always the one to break.

But she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She leaves her own marks across his chest and up his neck before finally nipping at his ear. “Your turn, Tex. Use me.”

Before she can blink, she’s flipped on her back, knees pinned to the mattress on either side of her, and Jake is notching his tip at her entrance. “Tell me if you need me to stop,” he whispers, always making sure she knows she’s really the one in control here.

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses, and that’s all the confirmation Jake needs.

With one harsh thrust, he’s buried halfway in and his eyes roll back at how tight she feels wrapped around him.

“Fuck, honey. He really was pushin’ a pencil, you’re grippin’ me so tight,” he moans into her neck.

“Uh huh. Please Jake, need you to move.”

Jake pulls back, almost fully out, before thrusting back in and filling her to the brim.

Lex releases a downright porn worthy moan at the feeling of being so full so quickly. All thoughts aside from Jake flee her mind and she happily gives herself over to the pleasure only Jake can provide.

“Look at you, Lou. All stretched out around me, so full of me. Nobody can fuck you like I can. Nobody can make you feel like I can and you know it,” Jake growls against her sternum.

He’s like a man possessed when he gets her to himself after a big takedown like todays. Her brattiness that only he can tame makes him feral and he doesn’t even try to control his tongue. It’s not like she even knows what he’s saying anyway, the sinful noises she makes are surely drowning out his husky words.

Jake hitches a leg up over his shoulder, driving deeper and making Lex whimper. His hand rests at the base of her neck and she locks eyes with him. She’s so close and he can feel it, but she won’t let go yet.

“Now, say ‘thank you Jake for fucking me so well, for hitting that spot only you can’.”

Her nails dig into his forearms are the command, half moon shapes leaving their mark in her desperation to bite her tongue. She tries but she fails. “You’re not the only one that can find that sp-aaah!”

Jake lands a firm slap to her ass and his eyes watch how it pinks under his touch. “Wanna try that again, angel?”

That damned nickname will never fail to get under her skin. Jake knows it will unravel her, and it’s one of his last ditch efforts to get her to completely surrender her body to his.

Of fucking course it works.

“Thank you, Jake for fucking me so well. For always knowing just what I need,” she whines.

“Much better, sweetheart. You wanna cum for me?” He coos.

“Please Jake! Please let me cum!” She pleads.

“Aw, honey. You’re so pretty when you beg for me.” He leans down, leaving an inch of space between their faces. “Now, watch me as you let go. Cum for me, angel.”

Her eyes never leave his as she falls apart at his hands roaming across her body, his hips rolling at the perfect speed, hitting at just the right angle, causing her to scream his name in pure ecstasy. “JAKE!”

“There we go, atta girl, honey. Ride it out, I gotcha.”

Jake sounds so cool and collected in the moment, that you’d have no idea he’s barely holding it together. He grits his teeth as he rolls through the names of all the active aircraft carriers to keep him from following Lex right over the edge. But they have a solid 2:1 ratio, and he’s not breaking that streak today.

“Holy fuck. So good, s’always so good, Jake,” she pants, coming down from her first orgasm.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Jake’s leaning down to leave a proud kiss on her lips.

Only, Lex quickly stops him by turning her head at the last second.

“You know the rules, Jake” she manages between shallow breaths.

Fuck, he does know the rule and he hates it. Sometimes it slips his mind, but she’s always quick to remind him. That’s rule two, no kisses on the mouth. Kisses on the mouth lead to attachments, and that’s not what this is.

“Shit, sorry. Lips looked a lil lonely is all, like maybe your tongue wanted to talk to mine for a second,” he covers smoothly. “Now flip over and put that pretty ass in the air for me.”

Jake pulls out and helps her flip to her stomach and yanks her hips backwards until she’s at the perfect angle. “Shit, Lou. This is a damn fine view I got here. This perfect ass in my palms, your sexy ass back stretched out in front of me, the long toned legs cradling me, holding me into you. Fuck, angel. You’re a wet dream come true,” he muses before slipping inside again.

He picks up a frantic pace, pounding into her mercilessly and he drools over the way her ass shakes every time it bounces against his hips.

“Goddamn, you’re so sexy sweetheart,” he slips an arm under her chest and secures her back against his chest. “But I gotta see those perfect tits bounce for me, feel them move in my own hands. Cum for me one more time, then I promise I’ll blow your back out. That sound good, angel?”

As if she’d ever deny him that, she nods and then he twists his hips right to hit the spot that has her seeing stars and sobbing his name. Knowing she’s had two mind numbing orgasms, Jake feels comfortable chasing his own. “You good, sweet girl? Or you need me to hold out a little longer?”

“Please Jake. Please cum, I need to feel it. Please!”

Her carnal request does him in and the speed and power of his thrusts almost surprise him. He’s pounding away in earnest and takes pride in knowing she will not be walking right tomorrow. That little thought is the final straw before he breaks, filling the condom with a gutteral groan that triggers Lex’s third and final orgasm for the night.

Once every catch their breath, Lex stumbles into the bathroom to pee, clean up, and grab an unripped pair of panties that she keeps stashed under the bathroom sink for this reason. She finishes dressing then goes in search of her keys, ready to head home for the night.

Jake is just stepping into the shower when she passes by. “Later, Tex! Make sure you hydrate and eat a protein bar, I made ya work for it tonight,” she winks and quickly exits his bathroom.

That was rule number 3, no sleepovers with Jake. Ever.

“Later, Lexi Lou! Drive safe and text me when you get home,” he hollers over the water.

“Aye aye, commander!” She yells before she locks the front door behind her and slips into her car to head home.

@hangmansgbaby @sarahsmi13s @roosterforme @aviatorobsessed @callsigncurse @teacupsandtopgun @trickphotography2 @thedroneranger @sweetwhispersofchaos @capoteera @hardballoonlove @buckysdollforlife @kmc1989 @seresinhangmanjake @shanimallina87 @dizzybee03 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @lynnevanss @jynxmirage @na-ta-sh-aa @whatislovevavy @dingochef @dempy @dckweed @just-in-case-iloveyou @tgmreader @djs8891 @marvelousnightjengale @bobgasm @eli2447 @buckysteveloki-me @taytaylala12 @els-marvelvsp

#mama mayhem writes #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #dagger au #jake seresin smut #cardinal rule #lexi knox #brat tamer!jake #head pusher!jake

[bastardmandennis]

wet dream

(business man! joel x f reader) | AO3 | masterlist

Summary: You have a wet dream about your sort-of boss, Joel Miller, and then get stuck in an elevator with him.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: SMUT (literally get out of here if you’re not 18+), afab reader, no y/n, some plot mostly porn, wet dreams, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, implied age gap, business man joel!, mentions of general workplace misogyny/incompetence (not from joel obvi), traffic, elevators, semi public sex, grinding, 1/4 of a blow job, don't read if ur claustrophobic probably, i think that's it but if i missed something pls let me know!

A/N: had to take a break from writing good dad joel™️ for some dream joel businessman smut©️. not even sorry xo

graphic made by the amazing @idolatrybarbie - thank you! ❤️

Warm, big hands wrap around your thighs, opening them wider so he can kneel in front of you, broad shoulders keeping you open for him. You pant, scratching at the sheets as he bites and kisses his way between your legs, avoiding where you want him most. The scratch of his facial hair feels so good, and you tell him, reaching a hand to try and grab at his hair. His hands run up your thighs, snapping the waistband of your panties,, and right as you think how much you need them off now, they’re gone, the air cool against your exposed skin. He grins against the skin of your stomach, nipping and soothing with his tongue until you’re arching to get closer, more more more, and he chuckles, a low thing that vibrates through your body.

His broad palm comes across your lower stomach, pressing and keeping you in place. Settle, honey, gonna give you what you want, don’t worry, he coos when you whine, gripping his hair and pulling. He pulls back slightly to stare at the slick pooling beneath you, on your thighs, on the sheets below you, and he tsks, running a finger up to collect it, watching the way it shines on his fingers. You close your eyes, embarrassed at the attention, and they fly open when he uses that finger to rub circles on your clit. Oh fuck, f- please, you choke out, and it’s like he reads your mind, pulling back to press two fingers gently into you, scissoring, opening you up beneath him. He leans even closer, breath fanning against you, never stopping the pumping of his fingers, searching for the spot that makes you cry out, nails scratching at him when he finds it and aims there. That feels good, doesn’t it, so fucking tight for me, gonna ruin you for every other man–’s that what you want, sweetheart, want me to open you up with my fingers or do you want somethin’ else? Gonna let me fuck you, stretch you out on this cock? His voice is low, rough, familiar, but the thought fades as he curls his fingers up, the hand holding you down pushing until the pressure is too much and you want to tell him but you can’t move, can’t speak as he brushes his thumb lightly across your clit, not enough to do anything but be a tease, but it’s enough, you’re almost there and he says yeah that’s it, go on honey, come all over me, and you lift his head up by the hair, wanting to see his face when you finally let go–

It’s Joel Miller. As in, your boss. 

Your eyes fly open, breath catching in your throat as you blink, trying to make sense of what just happened. The throbbing between your legs, the wetness in your sleep shorts, that’s real but–all for…Joel? Oh god–you didn’t even think you liked Joel like that, not that he’s not good looking or anything, but you’d never had a longer conversation with him than a quick good morning in the elevator, or his polite thank you, darlin’, as you handed out copies of reports and expenses during your weekly meetings, the ones when he came down from his office on the floor above to listen in silence as your manager attempted to justify whatever was going on within the department. Just his presence alone was enough to make them sweat–you looked forward to it every week. You scramble for your phone, cursing when you notice the time–five minutes to get ready and out of the house or your boss would have a conniption. The man was incompetent on a good day, but without you to guide him–aka, do everything possible for him–nothing would get done. Ignoring the unsatisfied swirl of want you shower and dress quickly, grabbing an apple as you rush out of the door.

The one day you’re running late, of course, is the day everyone must decide they’ve forgotten how to drive or something, the stop-and-go of the morning traffic doing nothing to help the headache brewing behind your temples, a combination of stress and a lack of sleep. You keep one eye on the time ticking by and by the time you get off your exit you’ve got exactly three minutes to park, make it into the building and up to the twenty-sixth floor before anyone notices you’re not there. There’s a mishap with your pass when you finally make it inside, a combination of you swiping it too fast and a worn magnetic strip, and by the time you get through security the rest of the elevators are packed full, each door closing right as you run up, and right when you’re about to have a breakdown and consider climbing the insane amount of stairs, a hand reaches out from inside an elevator down the hall to stop the doors from closing. You rush over, sliding into the empty car with a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much,” you say, only slightly breathless from the run to the building. “Thought I was gonna be late, you really saved me.” 

“You goin’ up, darlin?” A low voice, one that you immediately recognize–

That feels good, doesn’t it, so fucking tight for me, gonna ruin you for every other man.

Joel. As if the universe didn’t hate you enough.

He’s still waiting, a hand poised over the panel of buttons as he quirks an eyebrow at you. You realize you’re staring at him and look away quickly, telling him your floor number. The doors close as the hum of machinery fills the elevator car. You can’t help but look at him out of the corner of your eye–the scruff covering his jaw, hair wet and slicked back like he’d just showered. His button-up stretches tight across his shoulders, the top one undone, and the little peek of tanned skin underneath has your mouth watering. You’re being a creep, get it together.

“You’re on twenty-six, that’s advertising, right? Anderson’s team?” He crosses his arms across his chest and you drag your gaze up, nodding, not trusting your voice around him. He hums thoughtfully.

“Quiet little thing, ain’t ya,” he murmurs. The heat of his gaze is too much and you look away–all you can see when you look at him is the Joel from your dream, who’d teased you and talked to you in a low voice just like this one, and that just reminds you how unsatisfied you still are.

“I’m not–not really part of his team. Just a secretary,” you say, and you want to slap yourself when he looks back up at you. His eyes are dark as he searches your face.

He opens his mouth to say something and a loud screeching interrupts him. There’s a mechanical grinding noise, overwhelmingly loud in the small space, and you cover your ears with a wince. The elevator comes to a jolting stop and you feel Joel’s hand wrap around your wrist when you stumble. You hope he can’t feel the pulse beating erratically in your wrist, or that he just assumes it’s  from being scared, not from him and his proximity.

The lights flicker once, twice, before going out completely, plunging you in darkness. You whimper at the sudden loss of sight and he smooths his thumb over your wrist. The emergency lights come on, bathing the small room in a red light.

“You okay?” he asks. You nod, and flush when you realize he probably can’t see the gesture.

“I think so,” you say. “Are you okay?”

You can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. He still hasn’t let go of your wrist. “’M fine darlin’, don’t worry about me. Gonna call for help, they’ll get us out of here in no time. Happens all the time, old buildings like this.”

He fumbles for the emergency phone, lifting it up and pressing the button to call for help. As he waits for someone on the other end to pick up your eyes adjust to the low light and you look at his profile, the way the shadows dance across his face as he shifts, jaw clenching as he speaks lowly to someone, presumably maintenance, and you jump when he slams the phone back down.

His thumb smooths across your wrist in apology. “Gonna be a while. Something about the circuit breaker tripping–whole building lost power for a second.”

You groan, shifting out of his grip to slide down against the wall until you’re sitting on the tiled floor. You scrunch your knees up to your chest and hide your face, trying to calm down. You’ve been wound up all morning from the dream, being late, and now this? 

“I’m so fired,” you whisper into the fabric of your dress. It’s quiet, the distant mechanical whirring of the nearby elevators echoing in the silence. After a moment Joel slumps next to you with a low grunt. His hand hovers over your bent form and then he drapes his arm across your shoulders with a light squeeze. The heat of his hand, his arm, leeches through your thin cardigan and you can’t help the shudder that rolls through you.

“Hey,” he husks. “You’re not fired, hear me? Just an accident–could’ve happened to anyone.”

“You don’t know Anderson,” you say. “He’s been looking for any excuse to- to get rid of me, told me as much after last week’s meeting.”

He scoffs. “He’s a dick. Don’t worry about him. We’re not gettin’ rid of you that easy, honey.” He nudges your shoulder with his, a smile pulling at his lips when you give him a weak one in return.

Honey–that’s what he’d called you, in your dream. And holy fuck did it sound so much better in real life, when you’re so close you can hear the way his voice drops an octave in the small space, how intimate it feels to have him next to you. Just the memory has you leaning away, all too aware of the way your dress has ridden up your thighs, his thick leg pressed against yours, and his arm drops from your shoulder. You miss the warmth almost immediately.

“Thanks Joel,” you say quietly. It’s easy to be brave in the dark, which is why you find yourself asking, “Can I tell you something?”

There’s just enough light to let you see his head tip down towards yours, the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, lets out a low mhm.

“Those other guys, they’re always…well, they’re not the nicest. And I work with them every day, getting them coffee, copying reports, fixing their mistakes, and what do I get for it? Nothing. They don’t even remember my name, half the time. Unless they want to yell at me.” you sigh and he covers your hand with his own, smoothing down your scrunched up fingers as you continue talking.

“But you…I remember the first day I met you, and you made a point to remember my name, to thank me for helping out and I just–I wish it was you that I could’ve been working for this whole time.” He doesn’t say anything and your face heats, body tensing. Now you’ve gone too far, he’s gonna report this back to your manager and then you’ll for sure get fired.

When he finally speaks his voice is low, considerate, an undercurrent of anger leaking through. “Not right, how they’re treatin’ you. Tell ’em that every time. I fuckin’- I even put in a transfer request for ya last week.”

He’s already looking down at you when you meet his eyes, bringing your combined hands up to rub the back of your hand against his cheek. The low scritch of your skin against his beard does nothing to calm your racing pulse.

One moment you’re looking at him in the half-lit elevator and the next your mouth is on his, or his is on yours, you can’t tell who moves first and you don’t really care. His lips are soft and his mustache tickles, and when you open your mouth in a gasp he moves his tongue along yours carefully, deliberately, nothing like the sloppy makeouts you were used to from guys your age. The angle is awkward and when he finally breaks away you’re both panting, loud breaths that echo in the elevator and he sits back, gesturing for you to move to sit on top of him. You hesitate, maybe for too long, because he grabs you by the backs of your thighs and yanks you forward, until you’re chest to chest, knees spread out around the bulk of his thighs.

“This okay, honey?” he gruffs, and oh there’s that word again, honey, and a low whine forces its way up your throat as you nod eagerly. His hands wander around your body with ease, pushing your sweater off your shoulders to kiss the side of your neck, bruising the delicate skin with a nip that sends your body forward into him as he chuckles.

“You like that,” he says, and it’s not a question but you nod anyway, moving your hands up to rake through his perfectly gelled hair, messing up the once perfect hairstyle. Your hips rock subtly over his and he groans, gripping the sides of your cheeks to bring you into another kiss, a rough smash of open mouths, head spinning from the lack of oxygen. 

“Joel, please, wanna see you,” you whimper, letting your hands trail from his neck to his dress shirt, rumpled from your hands as you fumble to open the buttons. His hands come up to grip yours, pulling them away with ease despite your protest. Whatever you were about to say dies in your throat as he bends his knees up, sliding you closer until you’re sitting right where he’s hard and thick for you, twin groans falling from the both of you at the contact.

“What d’you want? Not much time here, not as much as I’d, ngh, like–gonna let me- let me open you up with my fingers? Or you want my tongue, right here in this elevator, right where fuck- right where anyone could walk in? Think they’re watchin’ the cameras, wanna give ’em a show honey?” He keeps going, that low drawl in your ear as you roll your hips over his, grinding slowly as he plants his feet down, thrusts up into you, letting you feel the thickness of him even through his pants, your thin underwear. It’s so much like your dream that the feeling of deja vu smacks you in the face and you freeze, just for a second, but enough for him to notice.

“What happened, you okay? Do you not want to- it’s okay if this is too much–” you lean forward to bite at the hint of collarbone peeking out of his shirt, running your tongue over the mark as he groans low in his chest, rumbling through you.

“It’s just- this is so embarrassing, but I, I had a…dream, um just like this. This morning.” You hide your face in his shoulder, feeling them move as he laughs, lifting your chin with a finger to force you to look at him.

“Yeah? How much you give the guy downstairs to stop the elevator for ya, to make your dream come true today?” he teases, rubbing a thumb against the flush on your cheekbone when you smile and push his shoulder lightly, mumbling a low shut up as he laughs.

You sit up to look at him, and the added pressure has you gasping around the sudden throbbing of your clit, and his eyes go dark, grasping your hips tightly as he moves you back and forth, like that? he murmurs and when you moan, he bucks up, watching the way your breasts threaten to spill out of the top of your dress with every movement.

“Can you- your f-fingers, please,” is all you can say, and he presses two of his thick fingers to the corner of your mouth, a low open up for me that has you clenching around nothing as he presses them on your tongue, then further, letting your spit run down his wrist until you gag lightly and he pulls back, smearing your own spit on your jaw as he pulls you into another kiss. He rucks your dress up impatiently, letting you both see your tiny panties that are soaked.

“This for me?” he murmurs. You nod, yes joel all for you just for you and he groans, letting his spit soaked fingers slide down until they’re playing with the elastic of your underwear, snapping them back when you move, patience, honey, gonna take care of you as he finally slips his fingers down, letting his middle finger feel the slick pooled there, smearing on the insides of your thighs (and definitely his pants), just rubbing the outside to feel you clench around nothing until you say please please please and he shushes you, slowly pressing two fingers in as you gasp–his fingers are so much thicker than yours, so filling it’s overwhelming, and you lean back just to admire the scene in front of you: your swollen pussy leaking all over both of you, the back and forth of Joel’s fingers disappearing inside of you, the shlick slick shlick as he moves, the way the heel of his palm bumps your clit with each thrust, arm flexing beneath his button up. You have to close your eyes, tilting your head back and he tsks. 

“Eyes on me, pretty girl, watch me stretch you out ‘n fill you up. This what you were dreamin’ about, lettin’ me fuck you here, bein’ such a good girl just for me, ain’t that right?” You hum, too focused on chasing the pleasure that’s been building since you got in the elevator with him, since you woke up from that goddamn dream but this–this is even better than anything you could’ve possibly dreamed, the heat of his body under yours, the little noises he makes as he marks the side of your neck, the thick heat of his cock under you and it’s too much–too much, gonna come joel, and he grinds his fingers into you, letting his hand rub against your clit and he says can feel you suckin’ me in, ’s okay honey, i’m here go ahead, and that–the permission–sends you over the edge, soaking his hand and his pants as you come down slowly, his fingers just resting in you, in no rush to move as he presses tiny quick kisses over your face, your cheeks, the tops of your breasts as you gasp for breath.

“Wow,” you finally say.

He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. “Everything you dreamed of?”

“And then some,” you say shyly. “Can I- can I touch you?” You let your hand trail down to the button of his pants, waiting for permission.

His groan is low, as if he’d forgotten all about how hard he was until now, a fuck yes, go ahead tumbling from his lips as you unbutton his dress pants quickly, reaching a hand in under his briefs to grasp the heft of him. He’s big, thick and leaking an extreme amount of precome and he grunts when you grab him, throbbing in your hand at the simple touch. It makes your head spin, the way he’s so affected just from touching you.

“Not gonna- shit, last so just–here,” he grabs your hand out of his pants, licking to wet your palm and shoving it back down, the slide smoother now as he thrusts up into the circle of your hand and you lean into him, scratching your nails through the stubble under his jaw and his head drops back against the wall with a low thunk. “Where do you want it?” he grits, and you can feel him pulse in your hand when you say my mouth, want you in my mouth, and he replaces your hand with his own, moving faster as you slide back until your mouth is hovering over him, sticky tip catching your cheek as he jerks himself roughly, a smear of precome that’s visible even in the low light and he stutters, groaning as you lean forward to cover his tip with your open mouth, pulsing into your mouth for what seems like forever, pulling back with a hiss when you keep sucking. 

“Fuck,” he says, watching as you tuck him gently back into his pants, smoothing your dress back over your thighs. His shirt is a lost cause, wrinkled beyond hope from your hands and being on the floor but you do your best to fix it for him, lingering on the firmness of his chest as you move your hands over him. He grabs your hands, pressing kisses to your fingertips as you giggle.

“Wait–do you hear that?” He shushes you as you both strain to listen and then you hear it–the low groaning of mechanics, the lights flickering back on as you watch the elevator numbers light up as you finally start moving again. You sigh in relief and you both quickly stand up, smoothing out each other to look somewhat presentable. He stoops to grab your sweater from the ground, brushing it off before he holds it out for you to slip your arms back into it, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as he steps away. The ding of the elevator bell has you stepping a respectable distance apart, sneaking small smiles at each other as the door finally opens to face a worried crowd. 

Talk later? he mouths, smile spreading when you nod. Not even your boss’s tomato-red face can sour your good mood, fueled even more by the slip that you find on your desk after lunch announcing your transfer to the floor above, to Joel’s floor. 

—

tysm for reading!

#posting this and running away #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller one shot #the last of us fic #lexi writes things #posting tonight for u kali ty <3

[thoughtkick]

I just can’t think about anything or anybody and I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. I can’t eat. And I love you. I love you all the time. Every minute of every day. I love you.

Lexie Grey (Grey’s Anatomy E8.22)

#Lexie Grey (Grey’s Anatomy E8.22) #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[arachine]

started thinking about seasoned jujutsu sorcerer!yuuji and thus…whatever this is was born :3

mdni, sexual content, hand kink…

yuuji and his strong hands.

his hands that are rough, and callused, and big. hands that’ve laid men and lesser beings 6 feet below the earth’s soil. they’re a spectacle to you. the way they tell a thousand stories—of his past, present, and everything in between.

they’re such measly things, you think. appendages molded from flesh, blood, sinew, and bone—but they’re so much more when he’s using them for the things he’s fond of.

like, when he’s holding your hand. intertwining them any chance he can get because he likes the feel of your smooth ones to his ‘rugged’ ones, as he liked to call it.

his hands dwarf your own. so much so, that you’re fully convinced he could fit the both of them in a single fist. it excites you, oddly—the size of them. how something so insignificant could have such an effect on you.

but yuuji’s different. his hands were carved to give, to touch, to love. they’re rough, and scarred, and have killed many a men, you know this, but they’re tender in the way they touch you. so gentle, and experimental, and considerate in the way they traverse down the pastures and plains of your body.

you reckon it’s because underneath all that rough exterior, under all that marred skin, and the shiny scars that dance across his skin like starlight, he is gentle. a juxtaposition to what anyone would perceive him to be.

he holds you in the palm of his hands like you’re the world, holds you with revere. like you’re something to cherish. to protect.

he expresses this when you’re under him, flesh pressed against flesh. forehead pressed to forehead, slick with perspiration. uses his digits to rub on your clit when you’re close to climaxing. presses a flat palm on the fat of your abdomen and tells you to feel where his cock is inside of you.

and when you’re on top of him, rolling your hips against him in the way you know he likes, in the way that diminishes him into nothing but putty, they roam your body in hurried movements. like he’s afraid of leaving any part of you untouched, unnoticed. to him, your body is a temple. he pays his respects when you let him grab you up. when you let him force you into a tight hug as he’s spilling his load into your cunt.

his face is buried into the interstice of your neck when you’re in this position, and he’s uttering expletives and mantras of ‘i love you’s, peppering wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, thanking you in hushed mumbles for letting him use your body like this.

all the while, his hands mindlessly run up and down the column of your spine, tracing random shapes in their wake as a means to soothe you, him, the both of you, as you settle into your post-orgasm bliss.

yuuji and his big, callused, scarred hands. you hope you’ll get to hold them forever.

#:: — LEXI WRITES ! #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x reader smut #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji x reader smut #yuuji itadori smut #itadori yuuji smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #yuuji smut

[lexinympho]

You don't go a day without thinking of how cute Keigo looks whenever his wings go out of control because of you. Sure, his subconscious acts of singing or whistling a jubilant tune are adorable in their own right, but there's something about that physical reaction he sometimes has trouble keeping in check that takes the cake.

The mere sound of your voice has Keigo's body immediately coming to attention, and you always wrestle with yourself to not laugh at his unavailing attempts at taming the crimson appendages. The slight flaps of excitement taking place behind an expression of a similar warmth works its magic and has your heart doing cartwheels on demand, even when said excitement is dampened by a less-than-stellar day of hero work.

Personally though, you'd say the most endearing form of this comes on the days when those less-than-stellar days leave Keigo with a pair of worn wings from a rigorous battle. Those flaps you fell in love with are more evident with the lack of feathers fluffing up at the same time, the size reduction not only bringing more attention to the movements, but in some way increasing the cuteness. The ephemeral period of his wings in that state makes the sight all the more appreciable since his wings rarely ever take more than a week to grow back.

When simply watching them isn't enough, you habitually bring your hands up from the bend of his wings and down to his primaries, becoming captivated by his nonverbal way of showing love. That's not to say he's never good at showing his love for you, it's just a special experience for you seeing it display itself in such a pure way.

He fondly tends to blame you for the instinctive occurence, citing how he used to be so good at maintaining it in public until you showed up (he doesn't convey much frustration though, if at all). And he's conscious of how much you love it, so he can't entirely blame you when he sometimes doesn't bother trying to smother the twitches the instant he feels them tickling at his backside.

It's disenthralling how you don't just admire his wings. You stare at them as though you're wordlessly eulogizing how they hold every bit of whatever you've been missing in life, you touch them with a weirdly firm gentleness that greatly instills their importance to you. They aren't just disparaged wings to you, they aren't just a quirk with promise, they're a part of him, they are him.

And seeing the way you treasure him, that part of him, makes whatever detestment his past made him develop towards his wings fizzle out and blossom into a soft type of cherishment he didn't think he'd ever feel.

©lexinympho 2022, please do not edit or repost my works anywhere on this platform or another

#«lexi's writing» #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #had to shout out the avian trait thing cuz i'm never getting over that #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x y/n #mha x you #takami keigo drabbles #hawks drabbles #takami keigo fluff #hawks fluff #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #keigo x reader

[perfectquote]

I just can’t think about anything or anybody and I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. I can’t eat. And I love you. I love you all the time. Every minute of every day. I love you.

Lexie Grey (Grey’s Anatomy E8.22)

#Lexie Grey (Grey’s Anatomy E8.22) #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[resqectable]

I just can’t think about anything or anybody and I can’t sleep. I can’t breathe. I can’t eat. And I love you. I love you all the time. Every minute of every day. I love you.

Lexie Grey (Grey’s Anatomy E8.22)

#Lexie Grey (Grey’s Anatomy E8.22) #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic