#as life goes
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"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.
#now im watching their whole lives fall apart on google docs#i dont know whats happening but by god im excited to see where it goes next#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writeblr#writing#bookblr#creative writing#writing life#writers and poets#novel writing#my characters#original characters#writing stuff#fanfiction#darkacademia#10k#20k#30k
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Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.
#katniss everdeen#the hunger games trilogy#the hunger games#primrose everdeen#hunger games#batcavescolony reads the hunger games#suzanne collins#'now it seems i have become someone precious' NOW? GIRL BFFR you're their hunter girl#and this isn't negative just bffr girl#your WHOLE DISTRICT did the three finger salute that you yourself says means admiration thanks and goodbye to someone you love and on top is#old a rarely used. your WHOLE DISTRICT decided in that moment that they needed to bring back this sign of respect for YOU#...................................................................#idk why some people are thinking i mean this as negative i don't she is unreliable but its not intentional. like when Peeta heart stoped in#CF she doesn't know what Finnick is doing at first cus she doesn't know off the top of her head what cpr is. she also thinks Peeta after the#reaping is acting for the cameras. he isnt we dind out later his mom basically told him Katniss was gonna win and he would die. obviously#shes not doing it on purpose shes just for lack of better words uneducated? as in she doesn't know everything shes not omnipotent#so when Plutarch (? second games guy) shows her his mokingjay hiden watch shes like *wtf that's weird?* then the people traveling to#district 13 show her the mockingjay cookie and explains it and she then goes on the difference between his watch and their cookie#and why does eveyone act as if district 12 is as bad as the capital? they CANT help Katniss and Prim in the way you want. they cant give#them food. none of them have any! and im not putting iton Katniss but they hid they needed food so they could stay together. it sounds like#some of you are in this our world mentally of what people do after a loved one dies (brings food constantly checks on them etc) district 12#cant do that. they dont have food and they're all suffering. you cant give someone food when you have none to give. then theirs the fact#that peeta DID help. Peeta buring the bread and tossing some to her then taking a beating from his mom is a HUGE thing in the books.#he used his resources to help her like you all said someone should.#district 12 DID (rip) care about Katniss before the hunger games. why do you think she was allowed to hunt? or how her trades were good#these are the little ways 12 can shows Katniss they love her. but again Katniss doesn't see this and YES its because she had ptsd before the#hunger games as well. i swear some of you make it seem like d12 was all living a life of luxury and glaring down at Katniss.#other things that show Katniss is in hight standing with at least her people of d12 is her dad was known enough through d12 for peeta dad to#comment on his singing along with his commenting on her mom. also her mom is a healer in the community. yeah her parents arnt the top but#of d12 but they are/were definitely high staning in the Seam.
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Very proud of Joel and what he has achieved but also we’ve got to give some major props to Gem for doing what no one else has been able to do and keeping that man away from his own self-destructive tendencies and his propensity towards insanity
#and also Lizzie for telling him to not try and kill Scott cause that always goes terribly for him#thank you gem for keeping him calm and watching him speed bridge once a week for two months#wild life#wild life smp#trafficblr#joel smallishbeans#smallishbeans#geminitay#mcyt
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lost.
largely inspired by slashmagpie's fic for this scene!
#wild life spoilers#wild life smp#pearlescentmoon#zombiecleo#eydidraws#my art#trafficblr#life series smp#when your better half goes out before you am i right .#pearl's ending was SO SAD I CANT#pearleo#moonrot
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gem dying badly in a glue trap
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Gregory and Glamrock Freddy’s dynamic in FNAF
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanart#fnaf gregory#glamrock freddy#security breach#listen you knew I’d have to draw this joke out myself#it was bound to happen#but this is literally how Gregory and Glamrock Freddy are like#Freddy goes through like 5 life changing moments throughout the game#and Gregory is like genuinely being a menace the whole time#he’s just a lil guy so he can’t help it#but it’s such a funny contrast
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Actually, no.
You don't owe your parents/guardians anything for raising you.
You don't owe them in-laws.
You don't owe them grandkids.
You don't owe them favors.
It's your life!
You decide how you want to live it.
You decide what you want or don't want in your life.
#And that goes for ANYONE in your life#Don't let anyone make you feel like you owe them anything/ any part of you#no matter what your feelings or relationship with them is#Don't let people make you feel like you should “try” anything you don't want to do either#Live your life and set your boundaries#Nobody is entitled to you or your life#child-free#childfree#ace#asexual#aro#aromantic#aroace
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MWAH!
#if you're cold they're cold. Let them in#project sekai#pjsk#prsk#emu otori#proseka#tsukasa tenma#nene kusanagi#rui kamishiro#wxs#wonderlands x showtime#scopophobia#monitoring goes hard. had to get this outof my system#congrats deco27 for releasing a new song that sounds like a new song[TRAIN PASSES OVERHEAD]#Well my most esteemed oomfs have agreed with me so idc. his discography has been looking up since hao though. i like hao. ^_^#Hi everynyan i got my fucking wisdom teeth out last week i AUUUUGH. FUUUUUCK. MY LIFE#Its fjne. Its fine its whatever. Tch. Tch.#I;m feeling the end of semester crunch something crazy i also have a cosplay to make in less than 2 months i havent started#emunene revstar art keeps me going#I NEED TO POST STUFF TO BSKY FIRST BC I WRITE THE ALT TEXT THERE AND THEN GO OH FUCK I DIDNT PUT IT ON TMBLR OT TWT. And u cant fucking#edit alt text onto stupid tweets because that app fucking sucks. GOD DAMNIT
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We all know the semi-canonical ‘all the Robins know to hide/duck inside of Batman’s cape, even as adults’ thing.
We also know that Danny ‘is LITERALLY a ghost’ Fenton sucks at remembering his own intangibility while ALSO forgetting to look ahead of him.
All I’m saying is, Danny Fenton (or Phantom, if you’d really like) would absolutely SLAM into Batman on accident while running on roof tops and Bruce ‘Brooding Instinct’ Wayne doesn’t even think twice about letting the kid hide and scanning around for danger before there’s a record scratch of ‘wait who tf is this?’ kicks in.
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp#danny phantom crossover#listen I’m just SAYING#my initial thought is Fenton bc dark hair and how most of the robins have had dark hair#Danny isn’t even necessarily running from danger. he just got into parkour and forgot how to stop his momentum#I mean you CAN have him running from something. give this an ACTUAL plot#but honestly I just think it’d be a fun little setup#Danny peaks out and. in panic. goes#hi we’re the council of the dead. we’ve been trying to contact you and yours about your extended warranty#*extended life warranty or what have you#Danny hasn’t even gotten death vibes from anyone yet so now he has to wing it#yeah hi… uh. Batman sir. if that’s your preferred moniker?#right so we’re basically the ghost irs and you owe death taxes?#yeah you know the saying. death and taxes. guarantees of life. haha.#which in this case means you owe money bc you aren’t dead yet. probably. idk I uh. JUST got the job .#anyways ohhhh hi yep you’re. red hood. yeah so. mm. yeah we definitely need to get you to the ghostly dmv#it’s the same as a regular dmv but people have actually been bored to death in there#(meanwhile Batman is like WAIT IS THIS SMALL CHILD DEAD?!)#(SURE WHATEVER IM RICH HOW DO I FIND A GHOST ACCOUNTANT AND MORE IMPORTANTLY DO YOU RESPECT GHOST ADOPTIONS?)
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I want a fic where Tim unwittingly becomes the rebellious kid after his dad dies because he has a hard time adjusting from his latchkey kid with absentee parents life to the almost constant adult supervision at Wayne Manor.
Like, Tim spent years sneaking around to do Batman shit and even when he got in trouble, if he waited long enough his parents would either leave town or forget about it.
Now he’s getting the ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ talk from Bruce for skipping school and supplementing half his meals with energy drinks and is just like: ???? Nothing has changed??
Tim gets hurt on patrol and Bruce tells him that Robin will not be out in Gotham the next night, and then gets mad when he finds Tim on a rooftop in his civies taking pictures. Tim is just like: Robin’s not out. I followed your order. What’s the problem?
Tim disappears for a few days following a lead and gets grounded for not telling anybody where he went (even though he did. It’s in the Batcomputer) and for missing school which he interprets as meaning that Robin is grounded (can’t patrol). So it’s confusing when he gets in trouble again for inviting Kon over to hang out because he’s ‘grounded’ which doesn’t even make sense because Bruce isn’t even home??
#Tim is a problem child#he just doesn’t know why#And Bruce doesn’t explain anything so this goes on way longer than it should#all of his siblings are watching his clearly break the rules and are like: damn Tim is ballsy#meanwhile Tim is just going about life as he always has and doesn’t get why it’s a problem now#tim drake#bruce wayne#batfam
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o yea bird guy
#that made me laugh so much ty luffy#imagine ur law and ur beefing w this guy your whole life and luffy goes ''o yea bird guy"#one piece#almost to dressrosa im on the last few eps of punk hazard now#monkey d luffy#trafalgar law#donquixote doflamingo
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NCR trooper having Christmas meal back home in New Cali. The tiny mess room was decorated in style. A green wreath hung at one end as a Christmas tree. The tables were loaded with food, they have fried chicken (poultry raised under NCR 'Food for Defense' program) hardtacks, pea soup, mash potatoes, cream chipped gecko on toast. The hardtack were soggy and moldy usually because of bad storage and ones infested with maggots, and weevils, but they didn’t mind that. That one night officers and troopers had their mess together. It was rather close quarters. They had a crew of four officers and thirty-two troopers, it was no dress affair. No fish and soup as you call them. In short, there were many drawbacks, but good spirits were not one of them. In the tight, overcrowded little mess room they ate and talked. The meal was washed down with potato coffee mixed with rum, and they lost count of the number of toasts that were drunk.
#fallout#fnv#fallout new vegas#fo:nv#fallout ghouls#ghouls#fallout ncr#the hardtack maggots each taste as strong as mustard if you’re curious#new vegas#fallout: life goes on
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i know that chilchuck saying there's not much interesting for him to say about his daughters and then saying, like, two sentences about each is Very In Character but what would have been funnier is if he was like. hm. it's not very interesting. and then smash cutting to, like, five hours later and he's still going on about them (marcille listens attentively with sparkly eyes. we've done it. we've found how to make him talk)
#mainly because every time I mert my dad at a bar whoever is sitti g next to him sees me and goes. ah. you must be the daughter#I Know Your Whole Life Story Now#yall im so boring. i work sleep and play video games or craft. there is Nothing Else about me!!!#WHAT IS HE TELLING PEOPLE#dungeon meshi#chilchuck
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only then, i am good || one shot
joel miller x f!reader
masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!
pairing: daddy jackson!joel x f!reader summary: you have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. warnings: jackson era [well into the tlou2 timeline but nothing bad happens], implied age gap [i warn you, joel is old old], angst [in the form of internal turmoil], feelings of guilt/burdening, established relationship, dd/lg dynamics, soft daddy dom!joel, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, finger sucking, pet names galore [baby, sweetheart, little girl, angel] size kink, reader is hella needy, reader has pubic hair bc i said so, smidgen of cockwarming, just the tip mention, dubcon*, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, nipple play, belly bulge, creampie, joel is reader’s personal weighted blanket, fluff, aftercare. *reader is not in the right headspace to properly consent to piv but she’s a-okay with it! word count: 3.8k
a/n: i’ve been to emotional (and physical) hell and back (are we back? who knows) these last few weeks and it had me yearning for daddy jackson!joel. so this is what this is. it’s a tad different from my typical style of writing and it’s not betaed and very very loosely proofread (barely looked thru it while in the waiting room lol), so it’s probably shit but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless xx
You should’ve double-checked the lock. Triple-checked it. As always. Hand to God, it slipped your mind. You were tired. Achy and sleepy, and you just wanted to go home. Back to Joel. Curl your spent body into the thick, burly warmth of his and let him cradle you until the whole day wipes itself from memory.
You’ve been asking them for more responsibilities — a more serious role within Jackson, for months. After today, you’re sure they’ll never take you seriously. Never see you as one of them. They’re so much older and wiser — experienced. And you…well, you are not.
They never fuck up. Never make mistakes that would risk losing an important asset to this safe haven. And today you have. You fucked up. You don’t know how you forgot. It’s been your only job here, the only thing they let you have, and still — you messed it up.
You forgot to lock the stall door to the stable for one of the horses. And not only did the horse escape but now the town is technically down one patrolman. You have completely thrown off the patrolling schedule, one that was meticulously crafted and has been in place long before you arrived in Jackson. It very rarely changed.
You offered to lend a hand, practically begged them to send you out with the rest of the search party. But Maria, Tommy, and Joel all told you to go home while they sent a group (of which included Joel and Tommy themselves) outside the gates, well past dusk, to go looking for him. You felt entirely useless.
Begrudgingly, you scurried home, a beaten puppy in need of licking one’s wounds. Feeling the weight of the day and the frustration that has accumulated over months suddenly seeping into your bones, and you just…broke. You crawled into bed, alone in the dark, and you cried for hours, your mind spiraled, turning over the mistake you made, again and again and again.
When it stops and the wracking sobs slow into shuddery hiccups, it’s only because you hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Tired. But steady — sure. And that nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach returns as the footsteps grow closer and closer.
The door creaks open slowly, pale yellow light from the hallway spills through the crack, your puffy eyes squint and flutter against the sudden light, shape of him vague in your blurry vision, but you know it’s him: tall frame, broad shoulders, pale skin, and dark features.
Joel.
You curl your body tighter, making yourself as small as possible. Close your eyes, and bury your tear-stained face back into the damp royal blue of his linens, the piney scent of him everywhere: his pillows, his sheets, his mattress, clouding your mind. You hear his footsteps as he rounds the bed, feel him reach over and switch on the lamp beside you. He grunts, his joints creak as you feel his weight sinking the edge of the bed, settling himself down in the ‘c’ shape your body had formed.
“We found him. Fella was out by Hidden Pines,” voice soft, almost cautious.
You nod silently, but you don’t look at him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more, not wanting him to see how pathetic you look after spending hours upon hours sobbing into the pillows over a mistake you made.
A heavy hand cups your knee over the sheets, thumb stroking bone through the fabric there.
“It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He says, surely.
But you don’t really believe him.
You sniffle and tilt your face away from the tear-soaked pillows just enough so he can hear you. “Yes, it was. I was the last one in there. It’s my job to take the horses back and settle them in for the night. My job to make sure they stay in the stables. It’s been my job, my only job all this time, and I can’t even do that right,” you ramble, voice breaking, bottom lip wobbling, fat tears pricking your red eyes once again.
“No. You listen here,” he says sternly, feeling his body turn beside you, bed covers bunching up around your knees. “You did lock it, but the latch was loose, honey. Tommy and I tried ‘em. They’re due for a fixin’ n’ we should’ve been checkin’ ‘em, but that’s my job, not yours. This wasn’t on you, darlin’. You hear me?”
You avoid his eye and stay furled on the bed. Silence swells between you, and you fiddle with a stray thread in his sheets.
“He wasn’t supposed to take off like that, but he’s a younger horse,” he shrugs, and a sigh falls from his lips. “It happens. Whoever was mannin’ the wall tonight should’ve seen him. Many things were at play, baby. It wasn’t your fault.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.
Your head snaps over your shoulder in a fury. “I could’ve helped fix it. I could’ve made it right,” you bite, shaky voice laced with venom. You don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it manages to stifle the sob that threatens to claw up your throat. And for a second, the irritation in your voice doesn’t rattle you until you notice Joel’s shoulders tense, and you regret it immediately.
A whirlpool of emotions swirls in your belly. A weird noise squeaks out from your lips as you try to fruitlessly blink away the sleep and salt in your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You bury your face into the pillow again, trying to muffle the sob-like groan as you cringe away from Joel, ashamed.
His hand drifts up your thigh, broad palm splayed across your flesh, his touch unwavering. “Sweetheart, the only reason I told you to stay here s’because it ain’t safe out there. The amount of infected may be less this time o’year but the cold…” He trails off, his grip tightening around the meat of your thigh unconsciously, “makes people meaner,” his voice grows unsteady at the thought.
You shiver, and you suspect he feels it. He clears his throat, and tender fingers brush the strands of hair out of your face, then they trail down, and you feel the cold roughness of his skin against the warm softness of yours as his calloused hand cups your jaw, tilting it to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes.
Your eyes pinch shut, and the dam breaks. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart sits heavy in your chest, feeling the guilt creeping back in at his touch. His hands, usually warm, are now icy cold, and all you can think about is how you are the cause of it. He had been out in the cold longer than he needed to be because of you. You and he both know his worn bones can’t handle it, and yet, he went out there in the dead of winter as nightfall cloaked over Jackson to right your wrong, and it makes you feel terrible.
“Baby. Look at me,” he whispers softly.
You do, and through bleary eyes you meet his weary gaze. His lips are downturned into a frown, and with a twist in his brows, that worry line in the middle of his forehead materializes. You hate being the cause of it. Your heart plops to your stomach, your throat goes thick, something rising at the base of it.
“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he implores, his voice stern but soft, eyes shifting back and forth between yours — dark amber irises so warm, pleading.
Teach me to be good. “Just you, daddy – just need you,” you blubber, your voice innocent and small. Weak.
He knows exactly what you mean. You have been together long enough that he reads you like an open book. You watch as he wordlessly toes off his boots with a thud. Watch as he moves to stand to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor with a soft clink, his jeans, jacket, and flannel following shortly after. Watch as he shifts onto the bed, bones crackling as he lowers himself and presses his broad form into you, his knees popping as they coax yours open. Watch as one of his hands drifts south between your bodies to grip the thick root of his cock while the other bunches up your nightgown to your navel, revealing your unobstructed cunt to him.
You whimper when the leaky head of his cock notches at the already slippery entrance of your cunt. He glides the wide cockhead between your folds, up and down, up and down, while the warmth of his breath fans across your face when his lips part to murmur, just the tip tonight, baby, s’not a good idea for you to take all o’me right now, alright?
You nod numbly. You don’t care how much he gives you — you just need to feel him. Need him to fix you. Need him to make the hurt you feel inside go away. Need him to search for the good. Maybe it’s there, buried deep in a place only he can find.
His hands find yours, pins them firmly above your head, and with his dark gaze holding yours, he very gently pushes his tip inside your tight, wet hole. His mouth pops open in a deep groan, and you catch it with a soft gasp of your own.
“There you go. S’that feel better, pretty baby?” He murmurs, his jaw ticks, brows twitch.
You nod desperately, your wide, glassy eyes going hooded. Your thighs tense around him, causing a little more of his cock to push inside, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.
“Good. Now just listen to my voice. Just focus on me, right here,” he grunts haggardly, voice so low and commanding. And that alone makes your brain go fuzzy.
You try to focus all your energy on his voice and the heavy weight of him on top of you and the fat tip of his cock stretching your too little hole open, but suddenly, he pulls out, and you almost whine at his absence.
But Joel doesn’t give you enough time.
Your body moves up the bed with a jolt, gasping when his hips push forward with more force, filling your cunt with the head of his cock, and then some more, only to slip out of you again immediately after. He’s toying with you, and he’s doing so because he knows you really need this.
He slips his cockhead gently back inside you, and you whine at the soft squelch your slicken pussy makes. The two of you revel in the lewd, wet sounds that ricochet through the room, all while never breaking eye contact.
“My little girl just needed me to fuck all the bad thoughts away, hm?” he breathes, his nose brushes against yours.
“Mmhm,” you sigh, cunt flittering around him.
“Needed me to stretch out her sweet little hole and make everything better, s’that it?”
You nod frantically, moaning breathlessly.
Joel growls. “Say yes, daddy,” he commands you softly, his fingers squeezing yours.
“Y—ye—yes, d–daddy.” Your words come out broken in between the slow rolls of his hips, but by the smirk that tugs on his lips, you know he’s proud of you anyway.
“Good girl,” he praises, his touch featherlight as his fingers push the stray strands of hair away from your forehead, and the scruff of his chin tickles your nose as he lays an open-mouthed kiss between your furrowed brows.
“But daddy—” you start to protest, scrunching your nose.
Joel harrumphs as he pulls back. All of his features pull into a stern look, and to stop you, the pad of his roughened thumb sweeps across your cheek and sinks between your parted lips.
“Na-uh. No fightin’ with daddy,” he presses gently.
By instinct, your lips close around his digit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the thick of it, tasting the salty, woodsy flavor of him, and it only feeds the foggy haze in your mind more.
Spit pools at the corner of your lips. His thumb moves in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he fucks his cockhead in and out of your hole. Your mind begins to blur, but there’s still a storm stirring in your swollen eyes, and Joel, as always, can see it.
“Alright, this ain’t workin’,” he sighs exasperatedly.
And you think he’s utterly fed up with you not obeying him. He unsticks his body from yours, and your eyes search his face — the lines beside his eyes, the hairs in his brows, the muscles around his lips — trying to decode the emotion that flits across his features. Though, as expected, it’s near impossible to read him. Joel may have been able to crack you open, and although the years he has spent in Jackson have managed to soften him up — tiny cracks in his stony exterior over time — he remains inscrutable.
For a moment, you think he’s going to scold you. Tell you you’re no good for him anymore. You wouldn’t blame him. You can’t seem to do anything right. Maybe he thought he wanted to take you apart, bit by careful bit. But what if he peered through the gap and saw something he didn’t like? What if he had a change of heart — now that he stepped back and assessed the damage? What if the severity of it was too much to mend? Burden too heavy to carry. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone good. Someone not in need of fixing. Someone unbroken.
But Joel surprises you. His hand retracts from your face, and instead wraps his arm around your middle, maneuvering you onto his thighs so you're straddling him. His free hand fists the hem of your nightgown, and in one swift motion, tugs the fabric over your head and tosses it aside to join his pile of clothes on the floor. His heavy hands find your waist once again, and with the head of his cock still buried deep in between your legs, he sits up and back against the headboard, grunting a low, alright, c'mere, as he takes you with him with ease.
You cling to him like a koala, body putty and pliant as he brings your weak arms to wrap around his neck. And then, a firm hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, lets you nuzzle your wet face into the dip in his shoulder, and breathe in the comfort of his scent while his other traverses the line of your spine.
Slow but steady, Joel bucks his hips up, up, up, until the entirety of his thick length works its way into the slick slide of your cunt. Your soft thatch of curls meets his, softly grazes your clit, and you writhe in his arms, sniffle, and whimper brokenly against his shoulder, but sure, gentle hands pull you into his chest tighter. You feel the strong drum of his heart against yours, thrumming against each other: ga-gung, ga-gung, ga-gung, pace quickening, like they're trying to catch up, trying to sync. Your body melts into his. Skin to skin, heart to heart, heat of your cunt to the heat of his cock; and then suddenly, two become one.
“Shh, shhh, I know, baby, I know. You got it,” he whispers, as he begins to rock you back and forth, back and forth, lulling you gently back into the haze, and everything finally fades away.
He presses a kiss right behind your ear. “Therrrre we go, just take it, good girl,” he murmurs as a heavy hand pets your hair. And whether he’s talking about his cock or his praise, you obey regardless. Your cunt sucks the heat of his cock in deep. Let him fuck himself into you; let his warmth smolder you until your cunt ignites. Let it roar and burn and spread through your system like wildfire. Let him make you good.
The tips of his fingers move through your hair in small ministrations, gently scratching away at your skull. “Daddy—s–so big—” you whimper, your fingers pulling the hair at the nape of his neck, tears welling up in your eyes as something low in your belly begins to churn.
“Shhh, angel, it’s okay. I know, s’a lot,” he soothes, feeling his deep voice reverberate against your chest. Your cunt contracts at his praise, and the steady pace of his hips falters briefly; he groans deeply when he feels his tip choked tight within your walls, “you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart, so good.”
He continues his shallow thrusts while he rocks you in his arms. There’s a low static buzz in your ears, but you can still hear the perverse chant that manages to fall from your lips — one that grows louder with every roll of his hips, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy. And in turn, he murmurs incessant blabbers of, you’re okay, angel, daddy’s here, daddy’s gotcha, into your hair, punctuating every one of his words with a soft kiss to your temple and a slow buck of his hips.
The tip of his cock nudges that soft ridge deep inside you, and he feels your cunt flutter around him. “You gonna come for me, angel, hm? You gonna be a real good girl for daddy and let me feel this drippy little pussy come all over me?” He coos.
“Uh-huh,” you murmur.
Deft fingers curl around the back of your neck, and with the slightest of pressure, he squeezes once, gently instructing you to use your words. A silent command.
“Y-yes, daddy, I prom–I promise, I wanna be good. I wanna be good,” you mewl.
His nose drags along the side of your face, down, down, down, until his heated lips meet your pulse point. “Go on, baby, let go n’ get daddy all messy. Show daddy how good of a girl you are,” he rambles, his voice a low vibration, goosebumps prickling in its wake.
With your tight cunt full and impaled on his cock, your clit throbs, eager for more friction. You rut your hips against his, humping him like a dog in heat as you rub your puffy pearl against the graying curls there, smearing him in your slick just as he insisted.
And within seconds, your body constricts, navel pulls taut, and then something fiery in your belly erupts. Your body begins to tremble as stars burst behind your eyelids, liquid heat turns your mind and body molten, melting away completely with the force of your release.
“Daaaddy,” you cry, lips quivering. Your muscles go lax, and your body slumps in his hold, feeling the last of your energy leaving you. Your head lulls back, and his hand slides up the base of your neck in time to catch it in his massive palm.
He clutches you tight, marveling at your fucked-out form in his arms while babbling praises of, ohhh–that’s it, that’s it, good job, baby, such a good fuckin’ girl— daddy’s so proud of you, as warm tears roll down your face. And it only spurs him on.
His languid strokes speed up, your body jolts above him violently, weeping cunt fluttering repeatedly around him. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans escape past your parted lips as he fucks you harder. “Christ, that’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, perfect little thing,” he pants, coaxing you through your orgasm.
His eyes drop quickly to watch the bounce of your tits, nipples peaked and gleaming with beads of sweat. He dips his head to one sticky breast, and with a flick of his hot tongue, he laps up the salt on your skin.
It elicits a sharp gasp from you, your chewed fingernails desperately trying to claw at him, your body arching against his mouth, and you feel him grin against the curve of your breast. His mouth drifts, wraps his whiskered lips around your other swollen nipple, tongue swirls the pointed bud, teasing you with a graze of his teeth across the wet peak before nipping it, tugging the stiffened point ever so slightly between his teeth.
“Daddy–oh!” You choke on a moan, and your spent pussy clenches around him so tight, your cunt is almost forcing him out. His hips buck into you harder in response, his thrusts growing more erratic as he seeks his own release.
Joel hisses, mouth releasing your tit with a wet pop, “sweet Jesus, m’gonna give it to you real good, baby—like you deserve, fuck—”
He's cut off by the strangled groan that rips through his chest, his back arches off the headboard, and you feel him twitch. His grasp on your enervated form tightens, and then a blazing heat spreads inside you. His sweaty forehead falls to your dampened chest, the swell of your breasts cushioning the drop of his head, his body convulsing as he pumps upwards into your core. Cock pulsing and spasming within your walls as he continues to spill inside you, your belly swelling and set to burst full of his seed.
Joel slumps back against the headboard, his arms loosen, but they don’t release you, just holds you there on top of him as he presses hasty kisses and whispers shaky sweet nothings into your hair while his hot seed dribbles out around his length, turning the hair at the root of his cock into a pool of sticky milky white.
You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours that pass by as you stay limp in his lap, breathing in the sweat and sex on his skin as you snuggle back into his neck, the heat a low simmer. But when he runs a warm, wet rag between your legs and uses the same one to wipe your mixed wet off of his shaft before he tucks you in with a peck to your lips, the tip of your nose, a long kiss to your forehead, and lays himself on top of you with the full weight of him, pulling the comforter up to trap the heat of your bodies between you, sore cunt plugged with his softened cock once more, you know that he makes you feel whole. Not ruined or broken. Not stupid or useless or helpless. And in truth, it's all you’ve ever known with him.
As you slip gently into the waiting black, small fingers that draw circles into his silver curls come to a slow, you think you hear a quiet sigh — feel his lips lazily form around the words against your tacky skin — something of, you are good, angel tucked away into the valley between your naked breasts like a secret. And you think you believe him, and for now, that’s enough for you.
#i'm fighting for my life so if anyone sees my husband tell his ass to come home asap!!!!#anyway this goes out to my homies who are perfectionists who think the world will implode over one small mishap#it won't and ily ❤️🩹#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#jackson!joel x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fanfiction#daddy!joel#tw daddy kink#noelle's workshop
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No capes/actors AU came to me via a dream and I have since been obsessing over it,,
I have so many ideas over it but my fav is currently that the Jasons are brothers because of the quick switch between seasons/robins and how they couldn’t use the same actor for older Jason so they just asked his older brother to be Red Hood Jason, Little Jason is way younger because they were trying to emphasize how small street kid Jason was
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#Behind the capes AU#dcu#batman#actors au#jason todd#bruce wayne#dc robin#red hood#there’s so many thoughts for this series#this one goes out for the Jason and Damian sibling truthers bc they’re bio siblings here#Big Jason was genuinely minding his business while his family acted only for the director to ambush him and ask if he’d like to act too#he thought maybe a small role but then boom baby Jason is dead#baby Jason loves his role in season 3 as a ghost/hallucination#big Jason is contemplating life until he gets to yell at his dad in front of cameras for fun#he loves it
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