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joelsgreys · 3 months

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baby, i’m yours

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

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Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed.

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ.

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really.

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis.

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel fic

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tommydarlings · 11 months

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Little Love Letters | c.s

pairing: dark!neighbour!mean!dom!carlos x sub!reader

warnings: psychotic behaviour, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, pure manipulation, inappropriate usage of ropes, usage of a knife, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, forced blowjob, gagging, brief mentions of killing somebody, brief mentions of stalking

w/c: 3.1k

summary: After receiving multiple creepy letters by an unknown stranger, you scarily run into the arms of your sweet, spanish neighbour carlos — sadly, you ran into the worst embrace you could have possibly ran into.

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Feeling lonely in your 20's is probably something a lot of people feel. The problem is, that literally all of your friends — who are the same age as you — are most definitely not lonely, they are either in a relationship or already married, one of your old Highschool friends just recently gave birth to her little babygirl.

And you are not even able to remember the last time when you talked to a man that wasn’t your gay best friend or your neighbour carlos.

Carlos, the kind Spaniard next door was very sweet and also quite attractive in your opinion, but you still never really felt the specific spark between the two of you when you crossed paths and talked for a bit.

But even though you had no partner and only a few friends that you barely saw since you’ve moved, you didn’t feel that alone.

Especially not since some unknown stranger — or maybe even 'secret admirer' sent you letters, every. single. day.

At first, you thought that it was a joke and ignored it, but after you’ve received the fourth letter, you knew that this was not a joke, this was serious.

Of course it scared and confused you, since nobody expect for your three friends know your new address, but at the same time, it wasn’t that bad.

Sometimes, this mysterious stranger filled the letter with sentences like,

“Each time i see you, you only get prettier.”

“You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, my love, ever.”

“I wish I could kiss you right now beautiful, wish I could feel your lips on mine.”

But sometimes they brought tears out of pure fear into your eyes,

“One day I will get you into my hands and I will never let you go, I promise you that y/n.”

“You will be mine, if you like it or not my darling, you will be mine.”

“I would kill for you, I would do absolutely anything for you y/n, anything you want me to.”

You gulped as you read those words, sometimes even wiping some tears away since some of his letters were filled with dark and psychotic sentences like that.

And since you were so scared — and also since it got everyday only worse and worse — you ran to the only person that you knew in this new town, your neighbour Carlos.

When you knocked in his door on a cold night at around 9 p.m., Carlos looked at you like you were crazy since you were only in a lose pair of jogger and a thin tanktop, making him quickly step aside and lead you into his cozy and especially warm home.

“Cariño, what are you doing here, don’t you have a jacket or a coat? C'mere,” he told you, placing his hand onto your back and leading you into his house, “It’s so cold outside, you’ll probably catch a cold y/n.”

But you only shook your head before you sat down onto the big couch in his living room, biting your lip before he got on his knees in front of you, being almost at eye level with you now.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Carlos quickly raised his brows before he scanned your body with his eyes, rough palms reaching out to grab your hands, turning your arms around and glancing at your unharmed skin.

You sighed before you pulled your arms away from his touch, briefly making him gulp. And if you haven’t lost your mind already, you could have sworn that you’ve noticed that he looked rather mad at you for a quick second as you basically threw his hands away, but you were probably just seeing things by now.

After letting out a long sigh, you shook your head, “N-No, I’m not hurt, don’t worry Carlos,” you spoke up, making him release a long breath, “I guess I’m just a bit…scared,” you admitted as you felt tears building up in your eyes, quickly trying to blink then away as the Spaniard furrowed his brows,

“Scared? Of what?” He asked you, lightly stroking your legs with his big palms now, listening to your voice explaining everything to him,

“It’s just, there are those extremely weird and scary letters that I’ve been receiving for a while now-”

Carlos immediately interrupted you, “For a while? Cariño, for how long? Why have you never told me,” he asked you in a strong Spanish accent.

“About a month now-”

“A month?” The Spaniard raised his brows, caressing your legs, “You should have told me y/n.”

You gulped before you shook your head and muttered a quick 'it's nothing' before you went on,

“Of course I felt a bit…watched as I got the first letter but the letter was actually filled with…really nice and sweet words, so I just smiled before I threw him away,” you continued your story, swallowing down some tears while you felt Carlos squeezing your knees almost like he was mad about the fact that you threw them away,

“But after some while the letters got…worse.”

Carlos tilted his head to the side, shaking his head before he spoke up with furrowed brows, “What do you mean when you say worse?” He asked you, thumb caressing your cold skin now,

You cleared your throat, “Well, they got creepier, sometimes this unknown stranger wrote things like, 'I would kill for you' or 'I am the only one you’ll need for the rest of your life,” you told him before you sniffled, quickly wiping a single tear away, making Carlos change his almost too serious facial expression in a matter of a second.

“Oh no, cariño,” he immediately spoke up as he noticed your wet eyes. Carlos raised one of his hands and wiped your tear away, cupping your cold cheek with his big, warm hand afterwards.

“Don’t cry, I know that all of this is very scary for you,” he mumbled reassuringly, “If you don’t feel save enough in your house, you can stay at my place tonight,” he suggested as you looked down at him, “I will keep you save, I promise,” Carlos told you with a sweet smile, making you laugh into his palm.

Carlos briefly laughed along before he stood up, towering over your sitting figure now, hand brushing your hair out of your face now,

“I will always keep you save, mi cariño,” he told you with more of a serious tone, only a tiny smile covering his lips now, making you quickly furrow your brows before you smiled up at him,

“Thank you, Carlos.”

“Oh,” he chuckled before he made his way to the kitchen, “No need to thank me.”

You wiped some more tears away before you stood up, Carlos standing in front of you now with two glasses filled with probably very expensive red wine, making you gasp.

“Only one glas, cariño, c'mon,” he smiled at you, basically pressing the glass filled with the alcoholic beverage already in your hand without giving you a chance to say anything.

You chuckled and flashed him a wide smile before you mumbled a quick 'okay', both of you saying a quiet 'cheers' before you emptied your glasses, Carlos closely watching you while you just enjoyed the wine.

“Wow,” you spoke up as you handed him the glass, “That was a really good one, not gonna lie…definitely needed that one,” he laughed at your statement, cleaning the glasses while you just stood in the big kitchen, slowly blinking your eyes.

Carlos turned his head and looked back at your slightly stumbling figure. And if you weren’t hallucinating, you could have sworn that you saw him smirking at you.

You gulped before you released a deep breath, smiling in his direction, or at least you tried to smile in his direction, “That w-was a s-strong one,” you chuckled before you heard Carlos chuckling as well, making you furrow your brows as you felt like the entire room was spinning around you, groaning as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Oh really?” He asked you, honestly, you were very surprised that you were even still able to understand him.

You swallowed before you touched your head, desperately trying to stop the spinning, “Y-Yeah, a very, very s-strong one, c-carlos,” you whined out, gulping a second time.

you blinked another time, and another time — and this time, your helping neighbour stood right in front of you.

“C-Carlos, I don’t feel,” you breathed out as you felt like you were on the brink of fainting, “so g-good,” you finished your sentence, quickly falling straight into the arms of the Spaniard, passing out in his warm embrace.

Carlos sighed after he caught you, “Each time I see you, you really do get prettier mi cariño.”

- - -

Waking up with a headache, with the feeling of a bit of dizziness and ropes around your wrists and ankles, was definitely something new for you.

Desperately, you tried to get free by tugging on the ropes that are attached to the wooden bedposts but no matter how hard you tugged on them, I didn’t work, there was no chance for you to escape any of this.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Carlos suddenly spoke up, making you lift your head and look with wide eyes at your Spanish neighbour. You gulped before you spook up with a trembling voice,

“C-Carlos,” you nervously breathed out, furrowing your brows as he stood next to your tied up figure, fingertips now gently running up and down your bare leg since he only left you in your underwear. “W-What is g-going on?” You asked him as you felt his hand creeping closer to your barely covered pussy.

Carlos only grinned down at you before he answered your question, “Let’s play a little guessing game, alright?” He tilted his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

Suddenly, Carlos pulled a little but sharp pocket knife out of his pocket, opening it, clearly wanting to make sure that you know how serious he is about his 'little guessing game', so you quickly nodded your head.

“Good,” he replied before he went on, “Do you think that… a man, send you those letters?” He asked you curiously, making you slowly nod, “okay,” he nodded along your silence answer, “Do you think that the man that send you those letters, knows you? I mean, like, has seen you before in person?”

You gulped before you nodded again, briefly squeezing your eyes shut as his big fingers started to circle your clit,

“Do you think that you know him?” Carlos asked you, briefly focusing his gaze onto his moving fingers now before he looked back at you.

You nodded again as tears build up in your eyes, hands tightly gripping the ropes as you felt like you were getting close to your release.

He nodded along again, “okay,” he quietly muttered, “Listen, I’ll give one last hint, alright?” Carlos asked you, making you quickly nod again,

“He said that if he gets you in his hands one day, he will never let you go, he promised you that,” he told you with a wicked smile on his lips right before you widened your eyes, tears gliding down your heated cheeks as he made you come through your panties with the tip of his fingers.

You wildly trashed around as you gasped and choked on your cries, sniffling and whining while Carlos slowed his movements down, eyes still looking at your face. He groaned,

“Just like that, mi cariño, that’s my good girl,” he whispered before he asked you, “Who do you think wrote those letters now?”

You gulped with fresh tears in your eyes as you looked up at him, squeezing your eyes shut as the realisation came over you, “Y-You did.”

He nodded, “That’s right, smart girl,” he quietly replied with a smile as his fingers left your pussy, gliding down to you ankles now,

“Since you were so smart and won the little game, I’ll get you out of those ropes now, okay?” He raised his brows as he lowered the little knife towards your ankle.

You barely had enough time to nod before he already removed the ropes around your ankles, quickly freeing your hands as well, giving you the ability to slowly sit up and look at him,

“What do we say? Thought you were so smart, baby.”

You gulped with tears in your eyes, “T-Thank you,” you slowly and softly replied, making him proudly smile down at you,

“No problem,” he replied with a nod of his head.

Then, Carlos stepped away from the bed, taking a few steps backwards until his back almost hit the door, making you furrow your brows before you wiped some of your tears away, focusing your gaze on his movements.

Carlos wiggled his pointer and middle finger in his direction, “C'mere,” he demanded in a quiet but stern tone, making you gulp before you stood up as well and slowly took cautious steps in his direction.

As soon as you were right in front of your fucked up neighbour, Carlos raised his head, clearly showing you that he’s visibly taller than you, making you feel unbelievably small in front of his broad figure.

“Get on your knees.”

You opened your mouth as you raised your head and looked up at the Spaniard, biting your lip as new tears made their way into your already wet eyes, “Oh no, no, no, mi cariño,” Carlos suddenly spoke up in a way softer tone as he cupped your cheeks, wiping some of the tears with the pad of his thumb away, “Está bien, solo ponte de rodillas por mí.” It’s okay, just get on your knees for me.

Without saying or doing anything else, you lowered yourself onto your knees since you were genuinely scared of him at the moment, knowing he could do anything he wants to you.

“Fuck,” Carlos mumbled under his breath, slowly running his finger through your hair, “Such a pretty sight, mi cariño,” he whispered in a deep tone while his other hand slowly unbuckled his belt, quickly freeing his very obvious erection.

You blinked some tears away since it all got so blurry by now, gulping again as he put the tip of his big cock in front of your still closed mouth.

“You know what to do, c'mon.”

Sniffling one last time, you opened your mouth, letting him shove himself into your mouth, hearing him groan and moan as he shoved himself so far into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat, making you gag around him.

“C'mon,” Carlos whined a bit, faking a pathetic pout as you just focused yourself on breathing through your nose, “J-Just like that, f-fuck yes,” he groaned as you squeezed your eyes shut and took him as far as you possibly could, briefly making him smile down at you.

“Buena chica.” Good girl.

You whined around his big, wide dick, fingers squeezing his navy blue slacks as fresh tears blurred your vision again as you looked up at him while he forced himself down your throat.

Your neighbour groaned as he caught your gaze, briefly chuckling under his breath as he noticed your smudged mascara under your eyes. Suddenly, he quickly removed himself from you, having a tight grip on your head by the roots of your hair, “Apologise,” he demanded in a deep tone, making you furrow your brows as you sniffled.

“W-What?” You spoke up in a quite and unsure tone, “For what, c-carlos?”

Carlos threw his head back before he growled, harshly grabbing your head and forcing your face towards his erection again, mercilessly shoving his cock into your mouth and down your throat, making you gag again.

But he only forced himself for a split seconds down your throat, then he pulled out again and forced you to look up at him, “Apologise,” he harshly repeated but you were still confused.

You whined, “F-For wh-” but before you were able to finish your sentence, Carlos forced his cock down your throat again, holding your head in that exact position for a few seconds before he let you go and pulled away again, groaning as he did so while you only whined and sniffled, quickly wiping some of your tears away.

His next move suprised you a bit, Carlos slowly bended down so he was eye level with you and wiped your tears away, pouting a bit and actually looking sad and sorry, “Do you really don't know what I mean?” He asked you in a rather kind tone, quickly making you shake your head as he wiped new tears away, stroking your cheeks afterwards.

He slowly nodded, “okay mi cariño, I’ll give you a hint again, alright?” He tilted his head to the side before you nodded your head, “o-okay.”

“What did you do with the first letters after you’ve read them?” Carlos asked you in a deep but kind tone, making you bit your lip as you through about what you’ve done after you’ve opened them and read them — and then it made click.

“I-I threw them a-away,” you slowly answered as soon as Carlos rose to his feet again, sternly looking down at you now, “exactly,” he nodded.

You gulped before you squeezed your eyes shut and quickly spoke up, smiling a tiny bit to make it seem more believable, “I am s-so sorry, c-carlos,” you wildly claimed, “I regret t-throwing them a-away! I swear t-that as soon as I-I'm home, I’m g-gonna get them o-out of the trash b-bin and f-frame them in my b-bedroom, I promise!”

Carlos only furrowed his brows and confusingly tilted his head to the side, “As soon as you're home? Mi cariño, you are at home! And don’t worry baby, I’m gonna go over to your house then and get them out of the trash bin for you and frame them myself,” he proudly told you, “and then we can hang them up! Either in the living room or the bedroom, wherever you want pretty girl,” carlos stated with a small smile as you gulped before you slowly nodded,

“O-Okay,” you answered before Carlos spoke up again, “Does that sound good for you, baby?”

You quickly nodded, “Y-Yes carlos,” you said, “sounds g-great.”

He stroked your cheek, briefly bending down to kiss the top of your head, “Perfect, I love you,” he claimed with a happy smile.

You looked up at him, briefly furrowing your brows before you replied, “I l-love you t-too.” You mumbled as you leaned into the touch of his palm with salty tears in your eyes.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fem!reader #f1 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz one shot #Carlos sainz angst

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r0-boat · 27 days

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Whb Demon Kings as fathers from best to worst.

Sfw yet dark because children are involved

This is just for fun a little fantasy don't have babies with any of these chuckle fucks.

Cw: toxic familial (kings love their kids, but they ain't perfect :/ the kid are no better)

I firmly believe that Satan is a good father. The only reason why he's so low is because his anger. His child is a firecracker and he fully supports that rage anger "That's my little baby... Off to destroy the angels..."

Lucifer

When he does not know how to take care of a child he will sit down and read. He will make sure your child and you are healthy and safe.

Holding his child in his arms, His eyes soften this tiny little being you had made and he helped bring into this world.

Lucifer can be overprotective over his child at any age they are still his little young one And that will never change, He helps parent happily holding his child and his arms and feeding them. He is the demon of pride and he wants his child to be the best. He wants his child ready for one day they will rule Paradise Lost. When they're old enough he will tell them everything.

Lucifer is a strict father yet caring. He strict because he loves The both of you these rules are in place for a reason.

Satan

He is the guy to SCREAM his child name in assemblies, and aggressively root for them in team sports. "FUCK YEA! THATS MY FUCKING KID!!"

Trying to punish would be a nightmare. Your kid is the child of Wraith They and his father getting fights half of Gehenna will be destroyed. At least Satan is there to stop tantrums.

He is the angry soccer mom yelling at team to get in the car so he can take them to a game to beat the shit out of Tartaros team and mammon's kid. He has snacks juice everything

Mammon

Listen Mammon's got money so he with get his kid anything they will ever desire. The reason why he's third is because that child will be spoiled rotten. Tartaros little royal...

Anything that kid wants Mammon will get. Good luck trying to unravel that when Mammon is constantly telling them about how important they are how they own everything.

That's his child so of course everything he owns is theirs now... But the child is the prince of greed so they are gonna want things on there own. There with be desputes on gold and materials. However on like Satan and his child these two actually talk through their disputes instead of wrestling they have a very mature almost interrogation like discussion of what comes they own and they will own.

If you think the spoiling for you is going to stop when the child is born you're wrong. In fact now that you have a wealthy child and husband they're both going to work together to spoil beloved Mom/spouse.

Beelzebub

This man does not handle responsibility well. He loves his kid but He will be skipping out on at most 50% on parental responsibilities. He does start stepping up a little bit. He actually does go to work...

Beel adores his kid, Beel spends a lot of time with them. He bought a baby sling to carry them around when he goes to work. He wants to show his child all the beautiful spots in hell. When any devil asks him about his kid he with tell you all about them.

Sadly he is forgetful especially with dates. Please remind him about important miles downs or important things that his child has going on. He will feel very remorseful if he forgets.

He can be a good father, just watch that man.

Leviathan

No one is surprised. This man is the literal embodiment of envy. Don't get me wrong he does love his child. It is his kid, and he is trying. He wants to be a father He wants to be a father he never got, as a kid he didn't even know what a parent was So of course he'd want to give his child a life he wish he got. He holds his child, He helps you feed them, And he brings them everywhere. He lets you rest. However that jealousy does flare up which leads him to do childish things.

And he is protective of his kid. of course he is. That is his kid. His kid with you a proof of his love. Proof that you are his. Every time he looks at them he sees a mix of you and him and his heart fills with love. A moment of softness with Levi when he thinks about how his child will a fine Prince one day.

And as the child of envy they are going to be a literal copy of him. When they get older there will be a lot of father vs child moments especially with getting your attention. Your child loves their father, And they do want to make him proud. They love being The Prince of envy, They want to be just like him.

I think parent child duo is even more dangerous. Teaming up to fight a common threat is more often than you think. Envy is just a weird way they bond I guess. You will never get peace in that household.

#wihib x reader #whb sfw #whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#whb lucifer #whb leviathan #whb mammon #whb satan #whb beelzebub #whb headcanons

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eksvaized · 1 month

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What if, in an alternate universe, instead of being battle-hardened men, TF141 was a famous band? I know it’s a silly thought, but I can’t get it out of my mind.

In my mind, Kyle would definitely be the lead vocalist, who once in a while picks up a guitar. Like, his charm is literally irresistible, and he has this unique quality of being able to carry even the most awkward interviews: he always has the perfect timing, knowing exactly when to joke, when to lightly shade other artists, and when to not-so subtly flirt with an attractive interviewer.

Unlike his bandmates, Kyle also tends to steer clear of trouble, avoiding the drama and controversy that so often follows other bands. His biggest scandal to date, if it can be considered one, was a rumour about his escapades during the band’s tour across America. He supposedly slept with 50 different women, each one from a different state.

And while it was indeed a big deal for such news to erupt within the music industry, it didn’t come as a complete surprise, given Kyle’s reputation as a notorious flirt.

Johnny — a bass player. No doubts about that. When he’s performing during concerts, he becomes a force of nature, a whirlwind of chaotic energy that doesn’t seem to understand the concept of slowing down or taking a break. He’s constantly on the move and bouncing around from one side to another. At times, he’ll dive off the stage to interact with fans, often leaving his signature on some over-excited female’s cleavage. Other times, he can be seen on his knees, utterly lost in the rhythm of the music, grinding to its beat with his eyes closed as if in a trance—this is the most calm he can be during a gig.

Apart from his musical talents and electric stage presence, Johnny has another talent - a knack for attracting attention, particularly from the media. His face graces the pages of magazines on a weekly basis—an occurrence that he insists is accidental rather than intentional. However, Johnny is notoriously outspoken—he has never been one to hold back his tongue or shy away from expressing his opinions, regardless of how they might be received. And so, while refreshing, his candidness often lands him in hot water, especially when his remarks come across as controversial.

Price, Price, Price. Definitely a band manager, and not because I think he couldn’t keep up with the guys. Oh no, that’s not it. It’s just that in my head, I can picture him standing in the unlit corner of the backstage, a lit cigar dangling between his fingers as he counts money. Every so often, he nonchalantly tucks some bills under his belt. He thinks he deserves some extra cash because, yet again, he had to clean up the mess that Johnny made.

What did Johnny do? Apparently, he decided to wear a kilt onstage. The choice of attire wasn’t the issue itself. The problem arose from his decision to go commando, wearing no briefs underneath. Price obviously had to execute some serious damage control and pay off literally everyone who came to see the band. Otherwise, the pictures of Johnny’s dick would have flooded the internet the second people left the venue.

And then there’s Riley, who dominates the drums. Like, just imagine him on the stage, drops of sweat forming on his furrowed brow as he immerses himself in the rhythm. His shirt is discarded, tossed aside as heat radiates off him in palpable waves, and his blond hair is in disheveled from the constant, frenzied head banging — literally every woman’s wet dream.

Sadly, even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stalk him on social media and drool over his shirtless pictures because all of his accounts are set to private. And because of how secretive he is about his personal life—unlike Kyle or Johnny, who don’t mind talking in interviews and sharing some details about what they get up to—the media has nicknamed Simon a Ghost.

Further contributing to his elusive image is a running joke among fans and media that the band doesn’t actually consist of three members, but is instead a duo of Kyle and Johnny. This is primarily because Simon seldom appears at public events. Even when a promotional interview is arranged for an upcoming tour or album, he tries to avoid attending by using every possible excuse, only to be eventually forced into it by Price.

What about you, though? Well, the answer to the question is obvious. You’re definitely a fan, but not the crazy stalker type. You just buy all their albums, follow them on every social media platform, and occasionally watch an interview or two, so you could gawk at how handsome all of them are.

So, when the news broke that they were having a concert in a city near you, you didn’t hesitate for a second. You purchased a ticket almost immediately, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you at the thought of watching them perform live. And the actual concert? It was the most fun you’d had in a long time. Even the fact that you went alone didn’t dampen your mood.

However, probably the part of the night that sent your heart racing, that made it beat the fastest, was an unexpected turn of events. You somehow, almost miraculously, managed to find yourself in the band’s tour bus. You were there, with Kyle’s hand lightly resting on your lower back, as he introduced you to the guys - Johnny, Price, and even Simon.

His exit left a strange silence, and your mind began to race; Price’s behavior seemed to confirm the rumors that had been circulating about Kyle might be true.

Price, to your surprise, did not seem taken aback by your arrival. He extended a hand towards you, the shake firm and lingering just a tad bit longer than necessary. His gaze then shifted over your shoulder, landing on Kyle and giving him a warning look before he excused himself to step outside.

Next, you were introduced to Johnny, whose demeanor was almost as tactile as Kyle’s, if not more so. He greeted you with a bear-like hug that almost crushed your ribs, squeezing the air out of your lungs. His wide grin was so broad it seemed almost idiotic. After releasing you from the embrace, Johnny leaned in close to Kyle, whispering something barely audible yet unmistakably complimentary, something that sounded suspiciously like ‘this one’s stunning’, before giving Kyle a hearty, brotherly clap on the back. You did your best to brush off Johnny’s remark, to dismiss it from your mind for fear of your face betraying your embarrassment by turning a bright shade of red.

Simon was sitting near the tiny window that allowed the soft glow of the moonlight to filter in. His long legs were spread wide in a display of relaxed confidence, and one arm was nonchalantly tossed over the leather couch’s backrest. He had yet to utter a single word. Which he did when Kyle mentioned you were here because you fancied a picture with them. This caught Simon’s attention.

At that point, the only thing keeping you standing straight was Kyle’s hand on your back. You knew, deep down, that you should decline this offer. Your mind was practically shouting at you to return to your rented motel room, reminding you of the early train you had to catch the following morning.

Simon turned to look at you, and you had no choice but to avert your gaze because it literally felt like he was undressing you with his eyes, as his lips curled into a sly, almost predatory smirk. “How about something better?” He suggested, his voice filled with a teasing lilt. “Have a drink with us.”

But how could you possibly refuse such an offer from your favourite band? Especially when you found yourself living the dream of every fan girl out there.

It was too tempting to resist.

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maaarine · 7 months

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How accurate is the new Napoleon film? Sorting fact from fiction (Andrew Roberts, The Sunday Times, Nov 19 2023)

"Sir Ridley Scott’s long-awaited movie Napoleon will have a great effect on how the French emperor is viewed in the popular imagination.

So it was with some trepidation that I watched it.

Would it reproduce the old Anglo-American historical stereotype of a jumped-up Corsican tyrant, or might it recognise that in fact Napoleon created the Enlightenment’s institutions, many of which last to this day?

For here was an opportunity to change the tired conventional view of Napoleon put forward by so many postwar Anglophone historians that Napoleon was essentially merely a prototype for Adolf Hitler.

Sadly and somewhat predictably for an 85-year-old whose mindset was formed by the Second World War, Scott has gone for the intellectually discredited stereotype of a dictator who goes mad with hubris. (…)

Scott has remarked before that “f***ing historians” don’t know what happened in Napoleonic times because “they weren’t there”.

But in fact there is a plethora of believable first-hand accounts from people who were indeed there, used by historians to discover what happened.

What these first-hand accounts tell us is that Napoleon was a witty, highly intellectual and attractive personality, whose reforms changed first France and then Europe for the better.

Whenever his armies entered European cities they liberated the Jews from their ghettos, giving them civil and religious liberties.

He was therefore precisely the opposite of the malignant, humourless, Jew-hating Führer. (…)

So firm is the assumption that Napoleon’s psyche had “run wild” that he is given the line to Joséphine: “I must begin my march to Moscow.”

Yet the whole point of the 1812 campaign was that Napoleon had no intention of going more than 50 miles inside Russia, in what was intended to be a three-week campaign.

As he crossed the river Niemen, there was no “march to Moscow”.

There are plenty of people in history who have a Napoleon complex, but Napoleon himself was not one of them, despite what Scott and Kirby might say.

This show also assumes Napoleon lost in Russia solely because the weather got cold in winter, as if the highly intelligent and well-read emperor did not know it would.

No mention is made of the typhus that killed 100,000 men, which Napoleon could not have foreseen.

At one point in the movie, Joséphine forces Napoleon to say: “I am just a brute that is nothing without you.”

Quite apart from the appalling syntax, the line, like so many in this visually stunning but historically tone-deaf film, fails to ring true.

Yet it is not from thousand-page biographies that the mass of people take their history today, but from movies like this.

Henceforth, therefore, Napoleon Bonaparte — the great world force of the Enlightenment who ended the French Revolution and dragged country after country out of ancien-regime torpor and into the vibrant 19th century — will merely be a brute who was nothing without his Joséphine."

#article #napoleon #napoléon #napoléon bonaparte #napoleon bonaparte

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ballad-of-birdy-lamb · 1 month

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Hi!! I’ve just discovered your blog, could I request Ted x female!Reader, maybe general romantic headcanons? Tyyy 😊 (I’m so insane for this man, so happy to find another ihnmaims writer on here aaaa)

I need you to run to me, run to me, lover.

Ted (IHNMAIMS) x Female! Reader romantic headcanons Summary: Romantic headcanons of Ted and female! Reader Warnings: talk of outdated ideas (just feminine ideas but nothing extreme), basic IHNMAIMS violence (references to AM's torture, possessiveness on Ted's end. Word count:874 (pretty sort sadly) ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Any feminine presence outside Ellen isn’t common in the group, so you being a part of the group and staying with Ted is what he takes pride in. He’s got a lovely lady he gets to kiss and keep for himself that treats him well. He’s never been more grateful for someone in his life since you said you reciprocate his feelings.

The group also sees your love as a benefit, Ted shuts the fuck up more often now that you’re on his arm. He doesn’t go on as many rants about his hatred for all of them since you just kiss him, and he gets quiet from embarrassment.

Ted would view you as an angel if you’re a lot kinder than he is, not only because of his insanely religious ideas, but because that’s what AM will try pushing in his mind. It’s more likely because the AI wants to see if you’ll lose feelings for Ted if he’s beyond clingy.

Religious ideas definitely have an effect on him, especially with AM fucking him over. The religious ideas would be so much worse in the relationship, the idea you’re an angel would become worse. Worshiper ideals. But that worship from him to you won’t fly with the AI, if anything, it’ll cause him to be more inclined to hurt you.

Speaking of clingy, it’s to an insane extent. Ted is always sleeping next to you or in your arms, holding your hand on the journey for the canned peaches, and sobbing in your arms when he sees fit for a good cry. Ted isn’t extremely pleased at the idea either, usually trying to push away before that lost dog mindset sets in. Open your arms and he’ll go back eventually. You make him so soft! How cruel you are!

Unironically, it’s a “us against the world” sort of thing for Ted, and he’s right to an extent. AM is against you, the others don’t care (meaning for Ted: they want to take you away), and he believes it. If anything, it won’t make him better with relationships, he’ll be insecure and he’ll say you’re trying to leave him too. It’ll cause him to hold you a little closer at night.

He’s gone so long without real romantic love to the extent he is so desperate for nice lady touch. As much as he denies it, he’s desperate for a feminine presence (which plays into his lost dog habit of following you). Ted will also keep you very close.

When Ted is tortured, he’ll go crawling to you again. Not only because he genuinely wants you to take care of him but because you’re so soft. He knows for a fact you’ll help him, going into your arms will be met with kisses and soft touches, a great contrast from the usual treatment from AM.

As little as his family life affects him under AM’s hold, he’ll be a husband for you. Ted will do things for you a husband would: being soft to you, saying nice things (when he isn’t having bouts of anxiety), and pulling you along when AM gives him delusions again. Don’t worry though, he’ll hold you real tight just so you feel better.

If you’re a lot more feminine, he’ll view you as needing protection (what do you expect he grew up in the 50’s/60’s). Ted will keep you in the center of the group with Ellen, keeping you close but not close enough for discomfort.

If you ever find a way to get something as minute as makeup, give him kisses with lipstick on, he likes knowing you left a mark. Not only to taunt the others about having a lover, but also to know you like kissing him.

Calls you his wife so the others know you’re his. It’s met with laughter and taunts from AM since he thinks marriage is an entire joke in the first place and will mock you with it. “You must be such a pretty wife to Ted if he goes out of his way to say such nice things about you,” AM would muse. Of course, Ted didn’t take it too seriously, he knew AM said that sort of stuff whenever he felt fit.

“You’ll stay my wife forever, right?” Ted muttered; the rest of the group having gone off to sleep. You sat against one of the deckplates, holding his head against your chest. His grasp on your body got tighter, making you slightly uncomfortable but you knew it wasn’t his fault for all of his worries.

“Of course,” you nod, brushing his hair from his face to kiss his forehead.

On the journey for the canned peaches, he’ll mutter about how sweet it will be. He’ll feed you the peaches and get to see you smile a bunch, not just because he kissed you, but from genuine happiness. He’ll start thinking of ways he could turn it slightly romantic, hoping his anxieties don’t get the best of him and he tries running off with you, coming back just to find the peaches eaten up.

At the end of the day, Ted is anxiety filled and knowing you’re there to hold his hand helps just a little bit more.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

My IHNMAIMS masterlist

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