#slice of life?? if you can call it that. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katsukikitten · 1 month

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Actress reader and Actor Bakugou have to enact a sex scene. Of course they've got one of those little modesty covers for his dick and for you but you'll still look naked in the shot.

But there is just something about the way that he's grinding into you, his cock hard from the action of course and since your characters hate each other (just like in real life) it's supposed to be a rough passionate scene, it's hate fucking after all! Your moaning only gets louder the more he "fucks" into you echoing around the studio with tons of people looking over the two of you but his eyes are trained on you and when he thinks he hears something a little more than the over the top obvious fake sounds your character is meant to give, when it ebbs into something real (fake to real sounds per the script) he gets a little too into his character.

"That's right, take it, take this cock. Mould to me so that every other man knows that you're mine and mine alone, princess."

"You'll have to fuck me harder than that to make me cum, prince." Spitting back the title his character so hates and the nickname you've come to call him off set and in interviews if only to burrow under his skin. His eyes flash with anger and for a moment you think you've regained control.

But his thrusts come harder after that and suddenly you're trying to cover your face with your arms but he moves to pin them to the plush pillow over head. His voice rough, deep, panting out in such a mind numbing growl.

"No, I want to see the exact moment I ruin you."

Covered cock somehow grinding against your clothed slit just right, your clit throbs from the repeated action, making you lock your ankles around his waist.

Head thrown back to expose your throat that he comes down to bite as he "cums" just as he's supposed to although the lines were wholly improvised. Shuddering over top of you with his tongue lapping up the rough teeth marks he's left on your pretty skin. Pulling away to grab your jaw roughly, rutting into you with pained groans as his tongue slips into your mouth "prolonging" your release and his.

"CUT!" Comes the doctor's voice, slicing through the tension reminding you both exactly where you are. Bakugou pulls away but not too quickly, grabbing at the blankets to cover you even if the whole world was going to see your tits bouncing from his rough thrusts thanks to the network allowing borderline soft core porn on air.

"Let's take fifteen to review and recenter!" Comes the directors sharp voice and so Bakugou helps you up on shaking legs, pressing you into his side as he walks around in nothing but that "modesty" covering.

"Wow! That seemed so real you did the fake to real moaning so well!" People linger to pass you compliments until they see Bakugou snarling down at them, rushing away from the always grumpy actor. He makes sure you're sat on the couch in your dressing room, both of you lock eyes for a moment and it's obvious by his smirk that this jackass can't help but stroke his own ego.

"Ya that sure was a performance from you, ya know I almost would have thought it was real, princess." He mocks you, giving you some knowing look as your cheeks still burn from how good he was from grinding alone.

"In your fuckin dreams Prince." He can only suck his teeth and chuckle darkly at your retort. Going to cup his fat length and sac, a squishing sound can be heard and it makes you hyper aware of the wetness between your thighs. He pulls away his hand slowly, silvery strings connect to the thin fabric and his fingers before they snap and he looks up at you. Smiling devilishly, palming his damp cock sticky from more than just you but you don't have to know that.

"Then I must be dreaming huh?"

#bakugou thirst

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itadorey · 7 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 (𝐘𝐎𝐔), 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐃 (𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈), & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘 (𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎)

pairing: gojo satoru x zenin!reader (gn) summary: gojo takes you to meet megumi, only to end up regretting it when the younger boy immediately takes a liking to you. genre: slice-of-life, fluff, humor, flirting, pre-relationship notes: same universe as "the man of your dreams" but can be read as a standalone!!, reader is part of the zenin clan and has prophetic dreams, megumi likes to make gojo's life difficult, tsumiki is not present here, megumi is the bad bc he bullies gojo :) wc: ~2.4k

"let's go!"

gojo blinks when your door swings open, his hand still up in the air and ready to knock as you brush past him. he doesn't move even as you begin to make your way down the hall, and you softly call out his name when you realize he isn't following.

"is there a problem?" you ask, your voice snapping him out of his daze as he turns to face you. he smiles lightly at the sight of you, taking in the way your head tilts to the side as you give him a questioning look.

"no, none at all," he responds, putting his hands into his pockets as he approaches you. "where are you off to?"

you give him an exasperated look, rolling your eyes as you turn away from him. "don't be coy, it doesn't suit you. i know what we're doing today."

"and?" gojo questions, giving you a sly look as he passes you. "what exactly are we doing?"

you sigh deeply as you catch up to him, hands behind your back as you bump your shoulder against him. "i'm meeting them today."

gojo gives you a faux curious glance, causing you to huff lightly before elaborating.

"fushiguro megumi and fushiguro tsumiki," you state, giving gojo a nervous glance. "that's who you're taking me to, right?"

gojo hums noncommittedly, bumping his hip against you as he turns down another hallway. you trail after him, nodding your head in thanks when he holds the door open for you.

"tsumiki won't be there today, she's at a friend's house. but yeah," gojo finally says, his voice unusually serious. "i just think it'd be good for megumi to meet a zenin who isn't..."

"awful?" you supply, raising an eyebrow when gojo shoots you a look. "horrible? rude? take your pick, they're all true."

"you said it, not me," gojo laughs, leading you off of school grounds. the rest of the walk is silent, and you find yourself enjoying gojo's company as he leads you towards the city.

the two of you come to a stop outside a well-kept building, and you take a deep breath as you look up at the sign hanging above the door. there's a slight tremble in your fingers as you grab onto your sleeve, and gojo silently raises an eyebrow when he notices the action.

"so?" he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. "how'd you know?"

"what?" you ask, your nervousness fading as you turn your attention to the white-haired sorcerer.

"that we were coming here?"

he's met with a dull look, and he does his best to fight off his laughter as you sigh in exasperation before motioning towards your head.

"prophetic dreams, remember?" you respond, reaching over to flick his shoulder. you frown when your hit doesn't land, and you shake your head when you remember the existence of infinity. "i saw this happening."

"oh?" gojo asks, giving you a sly look as he leans in close. "so you're still dreaming about me huh?"

you give him a flat look, refusing to give into his teasing. the smile stays on his face as he tries to catch your gaze, and you simply turn your attention back to the building as he slings an arm over your shoulders.

"shall we get this over with?" he asks, already leading you inside before you can even answer. a strangled noise leaves your mouth at his sudden movement, and gojo laughs it off as he ushers you into the elevator.

"what if he doesn't like me?" you ask quietly, wringing your hands as you spare a glance at gojo. he snorts at your question, crossing his arms and leaning against the elevator's wall as it begins to move.

"he doesn't like anyone," he scoffs, waving a hand in an attempt to dismiss your worries. "he's a brat but he's cute, i guess."

you laugh hollowly at his response, following him down the hall as the elevator doors open.

"ready?" gojo asks, coming to a stop in front of a dark, wooden door and unlocking it.

"no," you confess, your shoulders tensing up as he turns the doorknob.

"aw, that's too bad."

the first thing you see when you step through the doorway is a large, fluffy couch. the second thing you notice is the tuft of dark hair that pops up from the aforementioned couch, and you hold your breath as it makes its way around the couch and towards the door.

"megumi! i'm home!" gojo announces, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back as he pushes you further into the apartment. you can hear a brief grumble coming from megumi, and gojo's smile appears slightly strained as he looks up at the ceiling. "and i brought company!"

"who is that?" megumi asks, finally coming to a stop in front of the two of you. there's a moment of silence before you bow your head, introducing yourself and giving him a soft smile. there's a spark of interest in his eye when he hears your last name, and they narrow when they land on gojo's hands pressed comfortably against your back.

there's an awkward silence before you glance around, and you swallow harshly before gingerly attempting to pat gojo's shoulder. you hide your mild shock when you actually make contact.

"can i have some water please?" you ask politely, earning a nod from him.

"megumi, go get our guest some water," gojo says, biting back a smile as megumi scowls.

"i asked you, not him," you retort, crossing your arms as you turn to face him. "stop being a pain."

you feel gojo's fingers tense against your back, and he throws his head back to laugh as your expression remains unimpressed.

"are you two dating?"

the two of you whip around to face megumi, who watches the two of you with a conflicted expression. you can see the mild disgust in his eyes as he looks at gojo, and you hold back a laugh when his expression turns pitying as he faces you.

"no!" you deny, ignoring the way gojo sputters at the question. he makes no move to step away from you, and you decide to take the initiative and move closer to megumi while leaving gojo behind.

"good," is all megumi says, earning an amused laugh from you and an indignant scoff from gojo. you wave him towards the kitchen, taking a seat on the couch and smiling when megumi takes the spot next to you.

"how come you're here with him?" megumi asks once gojo is out of the room. you watch him for a few seconds, his green eyes boring into you as he studies you in return.

"he's helping me out," you say in response, confusion coloring megumi's face as he tilts his head. you're hesitant as you continue to speak, your voice a lot quieter than it had previously been. "i'm in a similar situation as yours."

"oh," he breathes.

"oh," you agree.

he shuffles closer to you as you sink into the couch cushions, and you can't stop yourself from patting his head, your fingers playing with the soft strands of his hair as he stares down at his shoes. you feel your heart lurch uncomfortably as you watch megumi, thinking about how unfair it is that a child is trapped in the same situation that you are. you can't help but feel thankful that gojo found megumi before the zenin clan could, and you remind yourself to thank him for his decision as soon as you can.

neither one of you notice the way gojo watches the two of you from the kitchen doorway, three bottles of water balanced between his hands as he does his best to not drop them.

"you wanna see something?" megumi asks, breaking the silence. you nod your head eagerly, earning a tiny smile from the young boy. he slides off the couch and brings his hands together, forming what looks like a hand shadow puppet. your jaw drops as two large dogs emerge from the shadows, coming to a stop next to megumi as his chest puffs up in pride.

"woah! that's so cool!" you say, reaching a hand out for one of the dogs to sniff. it eyes you warily, pushing the top of its head into your palm when it decides you're not a threat. the other dog approaches cautiously, and you find yourself giggling as the two dogs butt heads in an attempt to be pet by you.

"can you do this too?" megumi asks quietly, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly when you shake your head.

"no, i didn't inherit this technique," you say softly, playing with both dogs as they lay down on their backs. "you have a very impressive technique, you know?"

"what's yours?" he asks shyly, sitting down on the floor and leaning in to pet the dogs as well.

"i can see the future," you say, watching as his eyes widen. "but only in my dreams."

"woah!"

"here's your water!" gojo sings, throwing himself onto the couch next to you. he smiles widely as his sudden movement forces you to lean into him, and he ignores your annoyed grumbles as he hands you a bottle. you take it from him with a quiet thanks, and he wastes no time in tossing one of the other bottles to megumi, snickering when the younger boy fumbles with the bottle before it ultimately falls to the floor.

you smack him lightly as he leans forward to pet the divine dogs, pouting when megumi dismisses them right before he can make contact with their soft fur. you snort at the sight before jumping up from the couch, looking around the apartment as you step away from gojo.

"where's your bathroom?" you ask, nodding firmly when both gojo and megumi point towards the dark hallway behind you. "i'll be right back."

gojo's eyes remain on you as you walk away, and he only looks away when he hears a tiny scoff from megumi. he turns to face the green-eyed boy, raising an eyebrow when he sees him staring with his arms crossed.

"you like them," megumi accuses, a scowl on his face as he takes note of the way gojo looks down the hallway you've disappeared into. gojo stays silent as he thinks about megumi's words, only responding when he hears megumi speak again. "stay away from my clan."

"your clan?" gojo laughs, avoiding megumi's question.

"yes, the zenin clan," megumi says, looking at gojo as though he's the stupidest person on earth. "we don't need you to taint our bloodline."

gojo's jaw drops at megumi's words, and he leaps from his seat to glare down at him over his sunglasses. "listen here! you should be honored to have me be with someone in your clan. and besides, you can't decide who they like!"

"but you do like them?" is all megumi says in return, a smug look on his face as he glares back just as fiercely.

"i never—"

"is everything okay here?"

gojo and megumi turn to see you standing in the hallway, stifling a laugh as you watch gojo argue with a child. they both straighten up and nod, and you wander over to the couch as gojo plops back down on the cushion. you take a seat next to him when he pats the empty space next to him, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. he pointedly ignores megumi's glare.

"so," you begin, your eyes trained on megumi as he turns to look at you curiously. "i have to admit that you've appeared in my dreams. but i saw other animals surrounding you. can you summon different shikigami?"

megumi nods softly, an eager glint in his eye as he stands from his spot and looks over at gojo. you follow his gaze in time to see him nod at megumi, and you turn back when megumi clears his throat.

you watch as he summons a small crowd of bunnies, delight visible in your eyes as you lean forwards to grab one.

"megumi, you are so cool!"

gojo can't help the way his heart swells when megumi lets out a laugh.

"bye, megumi! i'll come back and visit," you promise, reaching down to pat the boy's head as he follows you to the door.

"promise?" he asks quietly, looking down at the floor.

"i promise," you state firmly, nodding once. he looks up to see you motion to your head, a kind smile on your face as you slip your feet into your shows. "in fact, i know it. i've already dreamt it."

your statement makes megumi's scowl soften, and the rest of your goodbyes are exchanged without incident. you sigh softly as you walk back down the street with gojo, a giddy smile still on your face as you think about your meeting with megumi.

things had gone better than expected, and you can't help but think how lucky you are to have found gojo, who in return led you to megumi.

"you know what?" you ask, holding back laughter as gojo hums in acknowledgment. "i think he likes me."

you laugh when gojo scoffs loudly, and he can't help but grin along as you bump him with your shoulder. a few minutes of silence pass as the two of you walk up the familiar road that leads to the school, and you steel yourself before finally saying what's on your mind.

"gojo?" you say quietly.

"yeah?" he asks in return, confusion on his face when you come to a stop. he freezes in place when you launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug as you pull him close. his arms wrap around your waist in return, and he rests his cheek against the top of your head as he lets his eyes flutter shut.

"thank you," you whisper softly, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel his fingers splay across your back. "for helping me and for taking such good care of megumi and tsumiki."

your words ring in gojo's ear, and he leans back slightly to look down at you. your eyes have a slight sheen to them, and he decides to forgo teasing you in favor of holding you close for just a little bit longer. he never knew he could grow so attached to two members of the zenin clan.

"always."

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

#gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo imagine #satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo imagines

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gutsby · 6 days

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Love Tap

Pairing: Dad!Joel x Reader

Summary: Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

Warnings: 18+. Joel Miller is a MUNCH Oral (f!receiving). Unprotected p-in-v (quickie). Slice of life, domestic-style and Joel calls you ‘Mama’ a whole lot. One playful bite.

Word count: 2.4k

Note: ‘You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up’ is a line from 2Pac’s song, ‘Hit ‘Em Up.’

Joel Miller was a wonderful father.

Occasionally, he forgot how to act like one.

He had a tendency to get a little careless. Sloppy.

Letting the dignified, ever-respectful façade slip every now and again and smacking your ass when you walked past. Copping a feel when you had to squeeze by him in the kitchen. Best of all, pinching your cheek through your skirt while you were cradling the baby—his baby—and leaving you no choice but to shoot him a quick back-the-fuck-up-before-you-get-smacked-the-fuck-up look and a covert middle finger to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to be slapping your butt in front of the kids.

It was just bad practice to engage in those dumb, flirty antics, particularly when your four-year-old son had made it his mission in life to imitate everything dad did.

But again, Joel would sometimes forget that.

On a morning when he’d woken up a little too early with an erection that was a tad too stubborn to ignore, he got especially forgetful. He found himself plastered to your backside at the edge of the bathroom counter with a grin, knowing damn well you only had twenty-five minutes to get the family dressed, fed, and on the road.

“Joel, you are so—”

“Quick. I’ll be quick.”

His eyes suddenly pleading with yours in the mirror. You just might’ve had the willpower to turn his honeyed gaze away were it not for the lips that followed it. Tracing the shell of your ear and behind it, down your neck, leaving trails of soft kisses down the skin until he reached the collarbone, your sweet spot, and licked it—the bastard.

“Five. Minutes.” Your words were equal parts invitation and warning as you shimmied your PJs over your butt.

“You know I’ll have ya finished in two, sweet pea,” Joel teased—but deep down, you knew he wasn’t kidding.

Both of you had cum and were done in a record-breaking four and a half minutes, swapping pyjamas for normal clothes in less than half the time and stepping back out of the bathroom with your hair only marginally tousled.

By now you had the ‘Pre-K starts in thirty’ types of quickies down pat. You were proud. You glanced over your shoulder to see a similar glint in Joel’s eye, and as you started out the bedroom door, you felt a tap on your ass—or, with the sheer breadth of your husband’s hand, more like a WHACK, followed by the sound of a stifled laugh.

“Can Daddy get some more’a that later?” he quipped.

“More’a what?”

Aw, hell.

Your sweet, forever nosy mini-Joel was standing directly in front of you with two pinched brows and a mostly eaten dino nugget clenched tight in his tiny fist.

You opened your mouth to conjure up some half-assed excuse for the spank your son just saw, but then your husband was scooping the kid up in his arms and toting him straight down the hallway, and you heard, faintly:

“Whatcha gettin’ from Mama later?”

“None of your beeswax, bubs.”

Joel got his second helping around lunchtime.

He’d been in between calls with what felt like an endless stream of subcontractors, suppliers, architects, and project managers when he swung by the house. You were in the midst of baking cardamom buns when he blew through the kitchen like an EF5 tornado and decided he’d be feasting on something else entirely.

“Joel, my buns,” you whined as soon as he’d carried you up the stairs and tossed you onto the bed, eager as ever.

“Fuck your buns.”

“You already fucked ‘em this morning—can you relax?”

Your husband already had your pants tugged halfway down your legs. You let him, then helped him kick the fabric the rest of the way off when it got to your ankles.

“You’re a fuckin’ maniac, Miller, y’know that?”

Something in the way he smirked as he sank his face between your bare thighs told you he already knew that. You would’ve liked to try and scold him again—give him a little more grief for the baked treats that would surely be burnt to a crisp by the time he was done—but then you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your slit, and you refrained.

Even if you’d wanted to, you scarcely would’ve been able to form a single word apart from, ‘Fu-cking hell, Joel’ and ‘Right there, right thereohfuuuuuuckfuckfuck.’

That was just fine by your husband.

In fact, he seemed perfectly content to lap at your slick, glistening folds while you moaned and cursed his name; it made him proud. Appreciative. Maybe even a tad too smug for his own good, if he were being honest, because the way you fisted his hair and rutted your hips against his face made you act a little more like him. A touch more reckless, sloppy, and desperate than your daily obligations as parents would seem to allow. A bit less proper and refined and a lot more slutty—all for him.

Joel teased your clit with a few soft touches from the tip of his tongue, and you almost tore the sheets in two.

“That feel good, Mama?” he hummed.

“F-Fingers, fuck, Joel— fingers,” you begged.

Still using his tongue, Joel drew the shape of a lemniscate extra slow just to spite you. You whined and bucked your hips in protest, but the man was undeterred—he knew exactly what he was doing. The only way he could be tempted to use his fingers now would be to spread your lips apart and lick you more, which he did.

Joel licked and sucked and drove you up the fucking wall with those figure eights until you nearly couldn’t take it. In one hasty, desperate move, you tilted your hips and tried to slip a finger past Joel’s mouth, into your cunt.

He bit that finger. You yelped.

“JOEL!”

It wasn’t that the bite actually hurt—his teeth barely grazed skin—but rather the way he refused to speed up. Gauging your wants and your needs with expert precision, he massaged the hood of your clit with his tongue and took care to plant suckling kisses as he did. You moaned and squeezed the bedspread, relishing the vulgar sounds of his mouth and the need he was building inside you. You turned your head to the side and whined into the pillow, knowing from the depths of your soul you needed release, but Joel just wouldn’t oblige you…yet.

When he grinned against your wet, warm, and slippery folds, his mouth might as well have joined in and said, ‘Keep going—you’ll cum on my tongue when I say so.’

Instead, Joel opted to say ‘Mama’ again, softly.

Mama.

He always called you that when he took you extra slow. Sometimes when he took you quick, too. Like a reminder to you both that you were, in fact, the mother of his children, and if the man had had it his way he’d have given you fifty more by now, daycare bills be damned.

He was generous like that. Always giving, giving, giving.

Just not when it came to doling out orgasms sometimes.

“I have a divorce lawyer on speed dial, just so you know,” you hissed through gritted teeth, head falling back when Joel’s tongue sank forward—inside you, then, “FUCK!”

“Mhmmm,” he hummed before retracting once more. Licking the soft, fleshy rim and nearly eliciting a scream.

Joel traced a circle with his tongue. He savored the taste. While you were whining and grinding your hips against the wet spot underneath you—a puddle that would only grow larger the longer he went on—your husband was devouring you, kissing your thighs every now and then.

“Well, if we split, my tongue goes too,” Joel said. Smug.

“Texas is a community property state,” you murmured, “I taught you how to eat pussy so your mouth is a marital asset.”

Silently, Joel wondered how that argument might hold up in court, grinned, then continued licking your cunt. You squeezed his head with your thighs, dug the balls of your feet in the sheets, and let out a lewd, pornographic scream that could’ve woken half the street. Luckily, your neighbors were probably all at work, your bedroom walls insulated just well enough to mask the noise, and Joel’s resolve crumbling slowly as he kissed between your legs.

One wanton, shameless, ‘I’m gonna cum, Joel, please’ was like music to his ears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten with a wife and mother as sweet as you, so upright and polite in your day-to-day life and then a hot, trembling mess beneath his tongue when he needed you like this the most. Surely he couldn’t treat you so mean.

Joel wedged two thick fingers in your slick, dripping heat and beckoned you to him as kindly as he possibly could. Rubbing the pads of both digits, callused as they were, against the spongy insides of your core and flicking them forward—‘C’mere, Mama, Daddy’s right here, go on’— so of course, you had no other logical choice but to cum.

It was all habit by now. A dazzling, sumptuous routine.

And Joel Miller was certain he’d never tire of seeing it.

Your spine arched off the mattress an inch or two, toes curling at the feeling, and while the sensation spanned over your body, your husband was the first to see it, sense it on his lips and tongue and fingers just as well. He squeezed your hip, told you how fucking pretty you looked when you came for him, then patiently waited out the spasms and cries and fingers lacing through his soft, dark locks like he was your last remaining tether to earth.

Then he kissed the inside of your thighs and smiled.

“All better, honey?” he hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed back.

“Still want a divorce?”

A smirk and a response of ‘Not until you knock me up at least one more time’ was hovering somewhere over your tongue when you felt the bed shake. Buzzing. Vibrating?

Joel sat up between your legs and yanked something out from under his ass. He peered down at the thing—staring into a screen—and cocked a brow as he looked back up.

“Someone’s been naughty,” he said simply. Grinning.

He lobbed the phone your way, and you just barely managed to catch it between two trembling hands.

Incoming Call: Francisco C. Morales Elementary

You shot Joel a look and answered it instantly.

Disoriented, disheveled, and slightly foggy from climax, you half-expected to find one of your son’s disgruntled teachers on the other end of the line, reminding you that today was a noon dismissal and everyone was supposed to pick their kids up an hour ago. Your husband was the one who would always keep up with school schedules, so your gaze narrowed at him, butt scooting up the bed while he tried to dive right back between your legs.

“He-llo?”

You smacked a hand away from the front of your blouse.

“Is this Mrs. Miller?” a voice trilled through the phone.

Yes, unfortunately, it was.

You almost had to backhand Joel across the face when he tried to bite the button off your brand new top, teeth ruthless in their pursuit of getting you fully naked now.

“This is she,” you squeaked.

Someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line—as though they knew you had a broad, hulking husband with a cock as hard as sheet metal trying to tear your clothes off while you talked. You stifled a shriek and a giggle when you felt your relentless man move down.

Joel was busy working your blouse from the bottom with that feral mouth of his when the voice sounded again:

“We’d really appreciate it if you and your husband could come see us this afternoon to have a little chat about—”

Your eyes widened. You clutched your phone even tighter and this time, more seriously, shoved Joel away. When he frowned and started to pout, you raised a finger.

“A-About what? Has my— has he done something bad?” Your voice all of a sudden tight, words wavering just enough to snag your husband’s attention too.

“We can explain more when you get here, he’s just…”

‘What the fuck?’ Joel mouthed silently, leaning in.

“What? What’s he done?” You couldn’t help it.

You heard a long sigh across the line, and you knew that wasn’t good. It sounded a lot like the kind of sighs you made whenever your baby made a colossal mess all over the kitchen floor, or your husband slammed a door too loud and woke the kids from their nap, or your son just—

“—keeps slapping his classmates on the butt.”

“Wait, what?”

You blinked. Joel coughed. Together, half-naked on the bed, you sat up a little straighter and leaned even closer into the phone, hearts starting to thud in your chests.

“Your son was just…spanking other kids and asking if he could ‘get some more’a that later,’ and when his teacher asked him where he’d learned to do a thing like that—”

You turned. Joel paled. Your gaze could’ve seared a hole through the front of his skull if you stared any harder, and just as your son’s principal continued talking, Joel raised his hands in surrender, already trying to apologize.

“Honey—”

“—and he told her he saw your husband do it at home—”

You didn’t need to hear another word. You were already fishing for your pants, yanking them back up your legs and brushing aside your husband’s soft, red-faced attempts at consolation, and when you were dressed, you started straight for the door. Already babbling some half-coherent apology to the woman on the phone, dodging Joel’s impossibly large hands and arms and hugs as he tried to pull you back into his chest and tell you he was sorry. You just might’ve let him, and maybe even believed him to be sincere, if you didn’t see the tiniest smirk on his lips as he fought to wrangle you in.

You’d made it to the door and were just about to pivot to give Joel the finger, tell him this was not funny at all, and he was coming with you right now, when both of you halted at the threshold and were obliged to turn again.

You sniffed the air, and your husband made a face.

Was it—

Before you could think, a plume of smoke drifted out through the kitchen door. Your eyes widened, and right as the fire alarm let out its piercing scream, you wailed,

“My buns!”

#C’EST LA PLUS BELLE 🍕 QUE J’AI JAMAIS VU LE FROMAGE EST FRAIS C’EST VRAIMENT MIEUX QUE LE DERNIER FILM DE GÉRARD DEPARDIEU #if anyone knows how to get a song unstuck from their head please lmk LOL #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us #tlou

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moondirti · 27 days

Text

featuring: ghoap x nanny! f!reader. parenthood. adoption processes. fluff. slice of life. reader is given an age range

hear me out: simon and johnny transferring to reserve duty – i.e., serving the military on a part-time basis rather than being on active call – once they make the decision to become dads. it comes after a long period of deliberation (and healing on simon's part), but after they're absolutely sure that they want to start this next phase of life together, they call price to get it sorted.

who is thrilled for them, naturally, but warns that they still have a specialised commitment to the task force. if he needs them, then they best make sure they're there. the world isn't a better place yet, and no one can do what the pair does.

fine by them.

so it begins. instead of the complex and ethical choices that come with surrogacy, they opt for adoption and work with an attorney to facilitate the logistics. months of searching come up with a young mother, whose unwanted pregnancy has interfered with her life thus far, and is unwilling to make the further sacrifice that comes with keeping the baby. they must be more understanding, or otherwise less overbearing, than the other candidates – because two months later, they're in a hospital waiting room, anxiously lingering to meet the new addition to their family.

isla riley-mactavish. named after the river where johnny realised he'd be much happier with his lieutenant by his side.

the first few months are bliss. exhausting bliss, but a type of contentment that neither man has known since they first confessed to one another. isla's fussy through nights but they take turns settling her down, and if they have military duties to attend to then it's usually never at the same time. she's spoiled rotten – not just by them, but by the captain and gaz as well, who visit more often than not with bags full of toys they have nowhere to put. a little princess in the eyes of everyone who knows her.

by month five, she's teething and can hold her head up unsupported. simon reads somewhere that it's one of the most pivotal points in her development.

of course the call has to come then.

in the middle of the night, no less, and loud enough to wake her up from her crib. johnny scrambles to calm the bairn down as simon answers, price's grave voice crackling in from the other end. expected to be a long haul. a month at least. state security's at serious risk here, simon. i wouldn't ask you to come out otherwise.

and they made a promise. no matter how much it aches them to leave their darling girl behind.

rdv on base in a week.

he knows that one week is a matter of grace. he can feel the captain itching to hatch the operation as soon as possible, but has staved off to give the boys time to order their affairs. that doesn't mean simon's happy with the timeline, though. seven days is not nearly enough to find a sitter they can trust, especially given their own hindrances.

regardless, they send a job posting for a live-in, 24/7 nanny to close friends – no way in hell are they advertising it to the open internet – and hours later, johnny's sister lets them know of a girl who substitutes at the same primary school she works at. a real darling, apparently. honest 'n' stowed oot of energy, th' weans love her, and she haes experience with bairns too!

promising, but word of mouth isn't enough. they get a name and ask laswell to run a thorough background check. to their relief, it comes out squeaky clean. no arrests, no dui's, no shady travel history. modest socials with only a handful of followers. it's in line with what they know so far, solid enough to encourage them to reach out. so they do: just a brief email, asking what time and place would be best for a face-to-face interview.

they bring isla with them to the agreed meeting spot. a cozy cafe nestled in one of the safest parts of town. it's an early saturday morning and they're scheduled to leave in three days. so far, they've put all their eggs in this basket. johnny has to hold onto simon's hand when he notices the nerves dancing behind his partners usually void eyes. but if he were being honest with himself, he's just as scared.

they notice you as soon as they walk in.

sitting at a table for four, mug of coffee steaming as you bend over a well-loved book. despite your preoccupation, you're observant – they inch in your periphery and your head snaps up, a brilliant smile parting your lips as you spring up onto your feet. simon tallies a point on the ledger in his head. good. alert is good.

as is true for them, it's abundantly clear that you're who they're supposed to meet. johnny can't imagine anyone but a children's educator dressing like that: a gingham babydoll dress over a pair of blue tights, which carries over to the bow in your hair and is juxtaposed by the white oxford lace-ups on your feet. he startles when you extend your hand to shake his and he finds a painted fruit on each of your short nails. positively adorable. and so unlike anything they know.

simon shuffles next to him. isla reaches out from her bugaboo stroller, the colours having caught her eye.

"well hello there! aren't you just the cutest angel i've ever seen? do you like my dress?"

that's another point for immediately engaging with the object of your soon-to-be care. simon watches as you pull out a rattle from your purse, handing it over to the cooing baby. warmth blossoms in his chest, and his apprehension fizzles out in the heat. they hadn't told you they'd be bringing isla – opting to catch you off guard and seeing how you'd deal – so he assumes you carry the toy around for emergency purposes, like anyone else of their ilk would carry a gun.

something about that quirk just screams safe.

"it is a nice dress." johnny pursues, voice smooth in that way it gets when he's flirting but doesn't want it made clear. it took weeks for ghost to attune himself to it – he always just thought the scot spoke like that – but now that he's able to hear it for what it is, he shoots him a cautionary look. not so much mad as he is cautious. wouldn't want to scare her off.

"oh! thank you very much. it's my grandmother's design." you straighten up once isla gains a proper grip on the rattle, patting the skirt like you're basking in the praise. "shall we sit? i assume you have a lot to discuss, and i promise you'll want to try the maple scones they make here."

"please. after you." simon nods.

an hour later, you're giggling into your palm as johnny deviates into a story of the time they took isla to the hospital because they didn't know the soft spot on her head could pulse. simon is quiet in contrast, though not displeased. rather, he's focused on keeping the tally of all the green flags you've exhibited thus far. he doesn't mind that the conversation hasn't followed a typical interview format. in fact, people are more likely to show their true nature when in relaxed settings such as this, which is perhaps why johnny hasn't stuck to the script of questions they'd prepared beforehand. the man is better at social manoeuvring than simon is, anyway. he trusts him to direct this where it needs to go.

"it can be freaky! especially if you've never been around a child that young. i had a similar reaction the first time i babysat my neighbour's infant at sixteen. did you know that they can break out like teenagers? i noticed the poor thing's skin erupt in acne at just a month old and called his parent's crying." you wheeze, wiping the tears along your lashline.

"have ye worked wi' many bairns?"

"oh, yeah. it's been my primary source of income since secondary, all the way through uni. i just finished a master's degree in early childhood education, actually! and i wrote a list of referrals you can call if you need to double check on any of that." you rummage through your purse and pull out an apple-shaped sticky note. "do you mind if i ask what you do? people don't usually look for a full-time nanny unless they're really busy. not that i'm judging! i would ne–"

"military." simon interrupts, ensuring his tone is gentle enough to reassure.

"that makes sense! i mean, for an indefinite amount of time, the pay you're offering is more than perfect. above industry standard, really." you pause, brows furrowing like you're doubting whether you should have said that. "ah– whatever. anyway. isla is wonderful, just the sweetest. and the provided accommodation is an added plus. if you guys have no other qualms, then i'd love to accept the position."

"does i' bother you that there are cameras on the property? porch, kitchen, and living room. jus' for security's sake." simon tests, though he knows he doesn't need to, for extra measure. to someone with bad intentions, CCTV is a massive dealbreaker.

you don't hesitate before answering. "makes total sense! you guys are well within your right to check in at any time."

and they don't have to consult each other to know. johnny is practically buzzing in his seat, muscles flexed with enthusiasm as his gaze flits all over you. lingering on your chest in particular, before he looks over to simon and smiles in an offensively handsome way. simon can't help but smile back, crinkling his eyes more than necessary so the both of you can tell what's going on behind his mask.

it feels a little too good to be true, hopeful in a way that sets off the alarm bells in his head. he's stable enough to recognise that it isn't your fault, though. stable enough not to pin his distrust on you. this is likely the best shot they've got at ensuring their daughter's safety while they're away, and it's come in the form of a vivid, bright little blessing.

(with great tits.)

he'd be a fool to sabotage it.

johnny beats him to the cause. "ye'r hired."

[ next ]

#fashion wise im pulling from 'new girl' jess and 'me before you' louisa iykyk #as always my shit ends up way too long #fic ༄ miss magic #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader x johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x johnny soap mactavish #ghoap #simon riley #john mactavish #ghost #soap #x female reader #x reader

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