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whatsnewalycat · 10 days

Text

SURRENDER

Part Two of Ruthless | Stepdad Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6.2k+

Warnings: non-canon, Boston Joel, dub con, step-cest, sneaky sex, use of the word daddy in a sexual context, dad kink (that’s a thing right?), age gap, degradation, praise kink, avoidance, silent treatment, sneaking into bedroom at night, angst, collective grief, mentions of explosions and gunshots (nothing graphic), *it’s about the yearning*, hair pulling, no physical descriptions of reader aside from hair can be pulled, reader is 18-19, Joel being a bad dom and a bad caretaker, hot shower, food mention, mentions of religion, unethical D/s dynamics, dry humping, anal sex, physical restraint, face fucking, sub-space unlocked, dirty talk, dd/lg maybe i think, masochism, like a lick of fluff if u squint

A/N: Heeeey buddy. As stated above, this is a second part to Ruthless. Big thanks to my love @frannyzooey for the help and hype, you're the best. Please be mindful of the warnings and tell me what cults you think exist in post-outbreak tlou.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

———

As the 19-year anniversary of Outbreak Day draws near, unrest festers in the streets of Boston.

Whenever August ticks over into September, residents of the QZ seem to divide into three distinct categories: people who want to forget, people who won’t let them forget, and people who are too young to remember.

Born post-apocalypse, you fall into this third category.

Which doesn’t mean the ripples of loss don’t touch you, contrary to what some may think. You still lost something. Everyone did.

This fact is apparent when you take the scenic route home from your job posting at the distribution center.

Rubble crunches under your shoes as you walk down the crowded sidewalk, passing by a message spray-painted over the battered brick building: WE’VE BEEN FORSAKEN.

Graffitied sentiments like these pop up constantly this time of year. Overnight, almost. Your mom and Joel mostly blame Fireflies for the vandalism. The bombs, too. Apparently they stir shit up to make people uneasy, then recruit those who seem susceptible. That’s what your mom thinks, anyway. ‘Leveraging their grief against them,’ she says.

You think it might be more than that, though.

Yesterday you saw three separate arguments break out in the streets. When you were taking inventory of k-rations this morning, an explosion went off so close-by that boxes rattled off the shelves. It was the second bombing this week, and you don’t foresee it getting better until October.

Sure, the Fireflies lay claim to the lion’s share of vandalism and destruction, but their activity is consistent year round. They are the baseline. But this? This is different.

You attribute the excess chaos to this heavy, static feeling in the air. It clings to your skin and gets stuck under your nails like a thick cloud of invisible dust or spores. Microscopic particles embed themselves in the cracks and creases of each person inside the QZ, fertile ground for clusters of violence to sprout up at every turn.

If you had to guess, you’d say this phenomenon probably spans the globe. All of you felt the loss of Outbreak Day, the whole human collective. Echoes of what humanity lost will likely still be heard a thousand years from now.

Some people refuse to accept this.

Like the guy a few strides ahead of you, who walks by an orange spray-painted message that reads REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOST and sneers, “Almost twenty goddamn years, fuckin’ let it go and move on.”

You watch him. See his neck get all red as he mutters to himself and clenches his fists at his sides. He looks around like he expects someone to challenge him. Nobody does.

This doesn’t seem to satisfy him.

Further up the sidewalk, he encounters a memorial made up of candles and wilting flowers hugging the side of a residential building. He kicks it over and repeats his earlier sentiment, this time louder and directed towards the brick wall.

“It’s been twenty fucking years, get the fuck over it already!”

Of course, a passing spectator indulges him.

“Hey—watch it, asshole!”

The two men puff up their chests and start yelling back and forth, so you cut right down an alleyway to avoid the situation completely.

When you arrive home, you find Joel at the dining room table, hunched over a map, holding a glass of whiskey like it’s a lifeline.

Neither of you say hello, but when you glance up while untying your gritty shoelaces, you catch him staring at you.

A jolt of electricity shoots through you.

He corrects himself, returning his eyes to the map as he takes a big swig from his glass.

“Mom home?”

“No.”

Nodding, you rise to your feet and slip out of your shoes, squirming with the excitement that one syllable brings you.

“When’s she gonna be home?”

He doesn’t look at you. Just shrugs and takes a sip of whiskey, too engrossed in his project to spare you attention.

For weeks, he’s been trying his hardest to pretend you don’t exist, which would be typical behavior if he didn’t fuck you dumb a few weeks ago. Sometimes you’re not even sure that what happened between you was real.

But, then again, sometimes… sometimes you feel him staring at you when he doesn’t think you’ll notice. Sometimes he touches your waist as he passes by. Sometimes at night you hear him pacing the hall outside your bedroom, the faint squeak of the warped floorboards giving him away.

When this happens, you stare at the door and will him to do it. Aching with something stronger than want, you pray for him to cross the threshold. But he never does.

You exhale through slack lips and wrinkle your nose at the canned goods.

“Hungry?”

He grunts in response, which is Joel for ‘I could eat.’

Tilting your head at the handwritten labels, you present the options, “Stew or… meat and beans?”

Another grunt, roughly translating to ‘Both options are fucking terrible,’ a sentiment with which you wholeheartedly agree. You grab the stew and empty it into a saucepan on the gas stovetop.

While it heats, you steal glances at Joel, noticing the rigidity in his demeanor. His set jaw and tense muscles. The deep creases in his furrowed brow.

You’ve coexisted with him long enough to understand he’s not immune to the heady thrum of anguish in the air this time of year. Like you said, nobody is.

Joel distinctly falls into the “people who want to forget” category of the forsaken, but carries whatever or whoever he lost on Outbreak Day like a ten thousand-pound weight on his broad shoulders. He white-knuckles his way through the season of chaos and mourning and tries to act like it doesn’t affect him, but it does.

You can tell, not just from the way he holds the grief captive in his body, but also from the obvious indulgence in his favorite coping mechanism: planning.

Joel is a meticulous planner.

Between smuggling runs, he comes home after a long day of manual labor at some job site and unwinds by plotting logistics. Drinking, too, but he clearly has a favorite.

Hours will go by while he pours over reference material, maps or blueprints, making addendums of any notable changes he and your mom discovered. After this, he deliberates. Joel could chew up weeks with this step. He plots out each possible route, taking into consideration all the penciled-in shortcuts and caches they’ve stashed within a 30-mile radius, then determines the most beneficial path for their next big adventure.

Given FEDRA’s current paranoid state, with the increased patrols and surveillance and whatnot, your mom and Joel won’t be making a trip outside anytime soon. But still, he drinks and plots and winds himself up into a tight obsessive knot.

You divvy up the simmering stew into two bowls, placing one next to his glass of bootleg booze while you take a seat across the table from him. He ignores your presence, just flicks his eyes around the map like it’s supposed to give him the answers.

When you’re halfway done with your bowl, you gently prod him, “It’s gonna get cold.”

Sitting up in his chair, he sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, then folds up the map and sets it aside.

The two of you eat in silence. Each wordless second twists hot beneath your skin. Your mind wanders to the dig of his fingertips in your soft flesh. The sting of his flattened palm. The stretch of his thick cock. The things he said to you—fuck.

You’re tempted to tell him to do it again. To tell him that you’re still abiding by his rules. That you don’t sneak out anymore. That you haven’t felt the sweet bliss of release for weeks because you don’t fucking come without his permission.

Over and over, you rehearse it in your head. You imagine yourself telling him, ‘I’ve been so good for you and you haven’t even noticed.’

The sound of him clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts.

He shifts in his seat a little, studying you, “You still seein’ that boy downstairs?”

Your heart stutters. Heat floods your veins as you shake your head.

“Why not?”

All you can do is stare at him while trying to verbalize an answer. For weeks, you ached for his attention. And now that you have it? The words are stuck in your throat.

You shrug, pushing your empty bowl away to lean your elbows on the table. When you look up at him again, he blinks. Waiting for a response.

A rush of adrenaline makes the world around you buzz.

“Why do you care?”

He clenches his jaw for a moment, then parts his lips to respond.

The apartment door swings open.

Both of you start at the intrusion. You jump to your feet to collect the dirty dishes while Joel turns to greet your mother.

“It’s a fucking madhouse out there,” she grumbles, then pulls out the seat adjacent to him and starts telling him about her day.

———

You step into the shower and hiss in reaction to the scalding hot water.

The fact that it's warmed at all surprises you. Not an unwelcome surprise, even if it hurts a little. Most days the water comes out tepid at best, and you’d gladly accept a third-degree burn over a lukewarm shower.

Besides, the sting feels right on your skin, as weird as that sounds. You relish the pain while washing yourself, thinking, ‘this is what I deserve for feeling this way.’ Hell fire, if the sidewalk preachers are right. If there is such a thing. If you’re not there already.

Only once the water runs cold do you turn it off and go back to your room, leaving the door cracked open behind you. After putting on a big t-shirt and some underwear, you turn off the lights and climb into bed.

For a while you stare at the water-stained ceiling and listen. You hear the roar of FEDRA’s armed vehicles patrolling the streets. Far away, gunshots ring out into the night. Some kid starts crying next door, then his mother lulls him back to sleep.

Closing your eyes, you try to tune it all out and focus on the noises within this unit. Concentrate on the drip-drip-drip of the bathtub faucet. The ripping sound of your mom’s snores.

Then, you hear it.

A creak from the floorboards. Footsteps.

Their bedroom door squeaking open.

Everything goes silent long enough for you hold your breath and scream inside your head, please please please—

It starts again. One careful step, then another.

His presence hovers there at the door for six restless seconds before he opens it and steps inside, closing it behind him.

Your pounding heart squeezes your breath ragged. It comes out this shallow, shaky push and pull that broadcasts your consciousness.

Still, you pretend.

You keep your eyes pinned shut and listen to the advance of his footsteps to your bedside.

Down by your feet, the mattress shifts under his weight. He doesn’t touch you for a while, only watches you, his gaze burning into your skin.

Then, he murmurs, “I know you’re not sleepin’.”

You blink your eyes open to look at him, in boxers and an undershirt, all hunched over at the foot of your bed. Always carrying that weight on his shoulders. The glow of the street lamp outside your bedroom window casts this perfect golden light on him that makes you kind of hate how good he looks.

“What are you doing?” you ask in a whisper.

Over the blanket, he rests his hand on your calf, then takes it back and shakes his head.

You roll onto your side, swinging one leg over the blanket and tucking it between your thighs, a wordless plea for him to touch your hungry skin. Joel shifts further onto the bed, turning his body to stare down at you with a straight spine. His gaze drifts up your exposed skin, fingers twitching in his lap.

This faltering self-discipline compels you.

Joel is nothing if not self-disciplined. That much is true for all the forsaken, yourself included.

Your working theory is that nobody wants after the world ends, they just need. Need to sleep, need to eat, need to fight. Anything to survive one more fucking day. It’s all any of you can ask for.

So do you want him, or do you need him?

And what about him? Joel fucking Miller, with his reinforced concrete walls and heavy heart. Was he ever capable of wanting?

“Joel,” you reach out to touch him, beckoning him to meet you halfway.

His eyes flick to your outstretched hand, then back to your face. He shakes his head, as if declining the offer, but you don’t retreat. You sit up and crawl across the bed to him.

The column of his throat bobs, head rocking back as he watches you come to a stop. He almost lets you touch his cheek when you try again, but snatches your hand away before you can make contact.

“Don’t,” he warns, the tone of his hushed voice deadly serious.

He squeezes your fingers while you study his stonewalled expression, tilting your head at him, “Why did you ask me that earlier? If I’m still seeing Bert?”

“I was curious.”

“Curious why?”

His lips part, then close, gaze dropping to your mouth.

Heat pulses through every inch of your body. You drop your voice to a breathy whisper.

“Were you thinking about what you did to me?”

Something flickers behind his eyes when they snap onto yours. It draws you in, urging you to scoot so close your knees butt-up against his jackknifed leg.

“You fucking loved it, didn’t you?” you ask quietly, smirking a little when his stern face twitches, “You loved how it felt to make me surrender—”

The dull throb of his tightening grip around your hand makes you gasp. A rumble slips from his chest, which could be read as a warning if you had an ounce of self-control left. If you didn’t need him to combust.

You let your gaze drift from his burning gaze down the slope of his nose to his lips, “Do you think about it every time you see me, like I do with you? How fucking good it felt?”

“It was wrong—”

“Then why are you here?”

Your question comes out louder than you expected. It ricochets through the charged space between his body and yours, popping the bubble of awareness around you.

All the little sounds you picked up on earlier seep back into the foreground. FEDRA patrolling. The whiz-pop of firecrackers going off maybe a block away. A faint murmur of conversation in the upstairs unit.

He holds your stare, but doesn’t make a sound until a snore rips from your mom’s chest, signaling crisis averted. When he speaks, his words come out hushed and calm.

“You need to be quiet. Understand?”

The command liquifies your bones.

You lick your lips and nod, “I understand.”

“Good.” He studies you as if deep in thought, finally releasing your hand to pinch your chin and assert, “You know why I’m here. Stop pretendin’ you don’t.”

It’s hard not to fall in line when he’s looking down at you like this, all hot-blooded and self-assured. Cocky, almost. But you try to push his buttons anyway.

“I thought it was wrong.”

“Don’t get cute with me. Yes or no?”

Your pulse flutters. Tongue goes numb. All you can do is nod.

He jostles your head a little, “Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Say yes please.”

“Yes please.”

He works his jaw back and forth, studying you, then tugs your shirt.

“Take this off.”

While you pull the offending garment over your head and toss it aside, Joel moves further onto the mattress, leaning back against the wall.

You follow him, swallowing the static buzzing in your throat as he ushers you onto his lap. The scrape of his rough hands on your waist may as well be a live wire crackling across your skin. He pulls you closer and closer until your belly presses into the worn cotton of his shirt. The heat between your legs settles on his stiff length. When he twitches against you, a heady electric current courses through your body and coaxes a whimper from your lips.

It seems too intimate to look at him, so you cast your gaze downward. Your shaky hands lay flat against his chest, absorbing the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

Being with him like this feels strange. Not strange how it sometimes is with a new partner, that clumsiness before you know how your bodies work together.

It’s strange in a fucked up out-of-context sort of way. Of course, growing up around him never conditioned you to think of him like this. Joel fucking Miller, with his scarred-up knuckles and unending apathy. The only man who could make big brown eyes like that seem cold.

All those years, you never considered him anything more than an obstacle.

Even then, if there was some tiny shimmer of attraction lingering under your skin, a piece of you that wanted more from him, you never thought he could feel so solid and soft and alive. You never dreamed he could make you feel so fucking good.

“This stays between us,” he tells you, more of a command than a request.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

The tips of his fingers dig into your hips, and he purrs, “You’ve been good for me, haven’t you?”

You preen at the warm timbre of his voice, body arching into him as you breathe, “Yes.”

Under your touch, his muscles tense. He exhales hot against your cheek and guides your hips in a rocking motion, slow and steady, rubbing all those aching nerves hard against him.

“You liked it, too. Didn’t you? How I fucked you last time?”

A low-frequency hum throbs deep inside you, amplifying every sensation tenfold. You nod, rolling your hips faster, “I did, I liked it.”

“Yeah, you liked it? Or did you fucking love it?” he hisses, “Dirty little slut like you. Bet you loved getting fucked in the ass, didn’t you?”

“Oh my god, Joel—”

“Tell me.”

“Yes yes yes I fucking loved it—”

Too loud.

He ceases all movement, locking you in place with a steel grip. All ten of his digits bury themselves in your skin. The exquisite pain makes you gasp.

“Hush.”

You clamp down on your lips in an attempt to stifle yourself. Each heaving breath wiggles down to your core and back.

“Look at me.”

If you do, you’ll dissolve at the edges. You know it. You are sugar paper and he is a humid room and you are so incredibly fucked.

Pinching your eyes shut harder, you shake your head and whisper, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll come if I do.”

The confession makes him throb underneath you. He husks, “Do it, look at me.”

You do.

Even in the shadows you can make out his features, his parted lips and hooded gaze. The desire etched into his face as he stares at you, looking mystified in a way you’ve never seen before. Heat percolates beneath your skin, sending your heartbeat racing.

His hips arch into you just so, then he pulls you in and pushes you back, rubbing your body against his, “Do you wanna come? Come for me just like this?”

“Please—please,” you whine, feeling pleasure branch out from your middle as he slides you back and forth, “Please I wanna come for you it’s been so long—”

“Will you be quiet?”

Swallowing a moan, you nod frantically.

His eyes flicker around your face and he breathes, “Go ahead.”

You’re not sure if it’s the flames in his eyes or the fact that you haven’t had an orgasm in almost two months, but the second he gives you permission, the ecstasy you tried so hard to contain spills over the edges and floods your body. It pulses through you hot and hard and makes your mind go white. You have to clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle the guttural noises that try to escape.

“That’s it,” he coos from far away, still grinding your twitching body against him, “There we go. That’s my good girl, hmm?”

“Oh my god—” you whimper at the sharp aftershocks that shoot through you, “It feels so good, Joel, fuck—”

“Do you wanna come again?”

Nodding, you link your hands behind his neck and set yourself in motion, rubbing against him a little faster than his set rhythm. His eyelids flutter as he throws his head back, the muscles under his shirt going taught. Beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, he’s hard as a fucking rock.

Releasing the tight grasp on your hips, he roams up your sensitive skin to your breasts and tests their weight before squeezing. It shoots through you, the pleasure and pain indistinguishable, just a throbbing rush of need. Your breathing comes in heaving gasps and you pinch your eyes shut again, tilting your head towards the ceiling as you once again find yourself struggling to keep quiet.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you.

You snap them open and meet his.

“Good girl.”

And—god, the way he looks at you, his gaze hungry and wild. Fucking maddening. Simultaneously, you wish he would stop—the contact too intense, too intimate—and pray that it never fucking ends.

Heat bubbles up inside you. You bury your fists in his hair and roll your hips faster, chasing the scorching need for more.

He hisses and pushes back against your thrusts, murmuring, “That’s it, grind that pussy on me, make yourself feel good.”

“Fuck—fuck yes, it feels so fucking good—”

“I can feel how fucking wet you are, leakin’ all over me. You do love it, don’t you, baby?”

You start to tremble and nod, trying your hardest to whisper when you tell him, “Yes yes yes I do I fucking love it—I wanna come again, can I please come again, please please—”

“Listen to you. So good, askin’ for permission.” He brings a hand to your face and brushes his knuckles against your cheek, “Such a quick learner.”

“Joel—”

“Do it. Make yourself come again.”

Something untethers inside you. Heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you work your body against him in jerky movements, each one more delicious than the last. His eyes burn into yours, all heavy-lidded and lust-blown in the darkness, watching your face twist up with pleasure as the hot gooey feeling between your legs stretches wider and wider, then overtakes you completely.

You give in to it with a shattered breath, burying your face against his shoulder to muffle your moans. He holds you down, making sure you smother your cries in the damp cotton of his t-shirt as wave after electric wave washes over you.

When your spasms start to peter out, and your rolling hips come to a stop, he releases his stronghold to pet your hair. Your heaving chests meld together, breath syncing up into a steady ebb and flow as he smooths his palm up and down your spine.

For a moment, it’s just this. Just the soothing motion of him rubbing your back, calming your boneless body. Soft and quiet with everything else stripped away.

Emotion swells in your chest and tingles up your throat, behind your eyes. You try to hide it, the fact that you’re crying, but it becomes obvious when a sob escapes you.

Joel shifts a little, then tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. He searches your face and frowns, furrowing his brow.

“I’m sorry,” you wipe your tears and cast your eyes downward, “I—I don’t know why this is happening, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”

“No—hey, no,” he assures you, “It’s fine.”

You shake your head.

“Look at me,” he commands, and when you do, he cups your cheek and holds your gaze, “It-it’s normal to feel… emotional. Really, it’s ok.”

The warmth and sincerity of this—his touch, his eyes, his words—makes your heart stutter. It curls up inside you and sedates your jumpy nerves.

You sniffle and nod, “Ok.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he studies you, bringing his hands to your waist. The longer you stare at each other, the more all the subtle signs of his lust come back into focus. How his tongue peaks out to wet his lips when he looks at your mouth. The heavy thudding of his heart. His strained breath and throbbing cock.

Your gaze drifts to his lips. A needy, aching desire simmers at the base of your spine. It seems wrong to kiss him. More sensual than sexual, rooted in something he will never have for you. But still, you wonder.

You wonder how soft his plush lips would feel against yours. How he would taste. Whether or not he would use tongue, or teeth, or both.

Your fingertips twitch hesitantly towards his mouth. He doesn’t pull away or admonish you, even though you give him ample time to protest. When you make contact, smoothing your touch over the pillow of his bottom lip, he murmurs against your fingers, “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m never gonna be, either, I wanna make that clear. That’s not what this is.”

“I know you’re not my fucking boyfriend, Joel.” You scoff at the thought, “Boyfriend. I don’t want that. I don’t need a boyfriend. What I need…” you watch your touch drift from his mouth to his jawline, where you scrape your nails through his scruff, “What I need is someone to fuck the thoughts out of my head.”

“Fuck the thoughts outta your head,” he repeats, almost a chuckle, “That’s what you need, huh?”

“That’s what you need, too. Isn’t it?”

Something smolders behind his gaze as he searches your face.

“You can use me, you know. Take whatever you need from me. Use me like a fuck toy, Joel, I fucking need it.”

His whole body reacts to your request, muscles flexing taught as he clenches his jaw.

You bat your lashes at him and pull yourself close enough to feel his breath on yours when you ask, “Don’t you need a little fuck toy like me, daddy?”

“You’re a sick girl, you know that?”

“You like it.”

Neither of you can deny the other’s accusation, resulting in a stand-off that tingles beneath your skin and makes your heart pound in your throat.

Subconsciously, you rock your hips forward and suck in breath when his cock throbs against your clit. He pushes back, flooding your veins with fire, “Are you gonna keep quiet if I fuck you?”

“Are you gonna shut me up if I can’t?”

He lets out one single amused chuckle, then asks, “Are you really tryna test me right now?”

Suppressing a smile, you shake your head.

“That’s what I thought.”

Something in the way he says it blooms heat in your chest. His tone teasing, almost playful.

He gives your ass a light smack, then tugs at your underwear, “Take these off.”

You roll off him onto the mattress and slide them down your legs while he stands to strip naked. Seeing his cock makes your body hum. It stands at attention, bobbing a little when Joel catches you staring.

Sidling up to the bed, he beckons you closer, so you follow his silent guidance and crawl over to him, wrapping your hand around his thick length. You glance up at him, licking your lips as you await further instructions.

“Get it nice ‘n’ wet for me.”

Nodding, you bring your mouth to the head of his cock, exploring first with your tongue, licking up the salty dribbles of lust. You taste a hint of yourself on him too, arousal that soaked through his boxers and marked him yours. Temporarily, at least. At least for tonight, or at least for right now.

A pleased rumble erupts from his chest when you wrap your lips around him and start to slide up and down his shaft. He feels solid and warm and fills your mouth completely. The first time he hits the back of your throat, you gag and pull off him, working him with your hands as you catch your breath.

“Do it again.”

You take him in your mouth, rutting up and down a few times before sitting up taller to drive him down your throat. He buries his fists in your hair and thrusts his hips forward, “There we go, that’s it—fuck, you’re so fucking good at that.”

His praise sparks at your core. You whine around his cock and bob against his thrusts. It doesn’t matter that you can’t breathe. You don’t need oxygen, you just need this. The sting of his grip prodding your movements, the raw stretch of him fucking your airway, the wet squelch that fills the room.

When he yanks your head back and unclogs your throat, you gasp for breath and stroke him with both hands, churning his slick length. Fire roars in his eyes when you look up at him.

He grabs your chin and husks, “Say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

He smacks your cheek and grabs your chin again, “Say thank you for fucking my face.”

“Thank you for fucking my face, I fucking love it—”

“Say please can I have some more.”

“Please can I have some more, daddy?”

Stifling a groan, he crams it back in your drooling mouth, down your throat, snapping his hips in sharp, quick thrusts that make you gurgle with pleasure around him. Far away, you hear him panting, “Take it take it take it—”

The chorus makes your body tingle. You think about your mom sleeping in the other room, how there’s just a wall between her and this. How she could wake up at any moment and follow the muffled, hedonistic noises. How she would find Joel balls deep in your mouth and you giving him something she never could: control.

This time when he pulls you off his cock, he uses his white-knuckle grip on your hair to make you flip over and turn around, ass in the air towards him.

The head of him nudges up against the tight ring of your asshole. You hear a wet splat, then feel the heat of his spit trickling down between your cheeks. Your body clenches with anticipation as he smears it around.

“Remember, you gotta relax,” he murmurs, releasing your hair to smooth a palm against your spine.

You inhale a deep breath and exhale the tension from your muscles, letting your heart melt into the mattress.

“Good girl,” he arches forward, breaching your entrance.

The sharp sensation splits you open. It pulls a wanton moan from your lips that rings through the silent apartment like a siren.

Yanking you up by your hair, Joel secures your back to his humid chest and clasps a hand over your mouth. Stars invade your field of vision as he drives his cock deeper and deeper, only stopping when he can’t go any further. You sob against his palm, so he pulls it down harder, muffling the noise until you stop.

Everything goes silent and still, but you can’t even bring yourself to worry that you woke her. Not when all you can hear is your thudding heart and his ragged breath, coarse with what you assume is rage or lust or both. Not with his lightning rod cock vibrating hot up your middle.

It doesn’t matter that she could walk in to find her common-law husband fucking your ass, or that this discovery would burn all your lives to the ground. All you care about is more. More stimulation, more attention, more Joel—more more more—

You try to move your hips in an attempt to create friction, but his vice grip renders you immobile. So you stay in place and try not to make noise as the flames lick at your insides. You squirm and ache and claw at his arms while he muffles your whimpers.

Then your mom snores in the other room.

He pulls his hand from your mouth and you gasp for air.

Thinking you can get ahead of the inevitable scolding, you plead, “I’m sorry—”

He drags his cock out of your body, then plunges it back inside, all the while hissing, “If you’re gonna be my little fuck toy—”

“Holy fuck—”

“—You have to be fucking quiet. Do you understand?”

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand, I’ll do better, I promise—please just fuck me, please please—”

You strangle a moan in your throat when he slips a hand between your legs and draws tedious circles on your clit.

“Try ‘n’ breathe through it,” he coaches, “I’ll go slow for you this time, ok? Just remember, shut the fuck up and take deep breaths.”

You suck in air until your chest is full, then release it, restricting its flow through a narrow space between your lips. You do it again. Tension begins to melt from your bones. It has a clarifying effect, allowing you to relish in the heat of his touch. You take another deep breath, only hitting a snag when Joel starts to rock his hips.

It feels fucking unreal. Rough and raw, the steady drag of his cock fills you with static electricity over and over.

“Oh fuck—”

“Shhh…”

Your inhale stutters, but you regain control on the exhale. Everything disappears except him. His heated skin sticking to yours. How fucking full he makes you feel with each thrust. The thick swell of pleasure that accumulates every time he flicks his wrist. You surrender to all of it, to Joel, entrusting him with everything except your breath.

“That’s it, baby, let go.”

“It feels ssso gooood,” you whisper, head rolling back onto his shoulder, “Nothing’s ever felt this good, holy shit—”

His lips tickle your ear as he purrs, “Such a good little fuck toy, aren’t you, baby?”

You gasp a little when the velvet of his tongue rolls against your pulse. Nodding, you reach back behind his neck to scrape your fingernails through his curls. He does it again, this time sealing his lips to suck on the sensitive skin. Your heart pounds thick and hot through your body. The edges peel back at the corner of your mind. You push back against his thrusts, panting out subdued whimpers as the fire in your belly begins to spread.

“Do you wanna come?”

“I do, I wanna come—oh my god I wanna come, please make me come, daddy—”

His hand covers your mouth and holds you down so he can fuck you harder, stretching you out wide and filling you deep. He works your clit faster. The bed frame thumps against the wall in a frantic rhythm that matches the wet slap of his thrusts. Tears prick your eyes and heat swells beneath your skin, pressure building more and more until you think you can’t fucking take it anymore—

His palm smothers your moans as you fall apart, breaking into a million pieces and coming back together again with a choked sob. Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck and groans as his hips snap forward, then stutter to a stop.

The two of you go slack propping each other up, too loose-limbed and lethargic to peel yourselves away at first. He makes the first move to separate, though, uncovering your mouth to brush the damp hair from your forehead, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you tell him instinctively, then second-guess yourself and look up to meet his eyes, “I mean, I don’t know. I think so.”

He studies you, nodding.

Hesitation buzzes in your chest when you contemplate whether or not to return his question. It seems unlikely he’d cooperate even if you wanted to know the answer. So instead, you give him his out.

“Is this goodnight, then?”

“Suppose it is.”

A flicker of something passes between your bodies as you stare at each other. It feels so hot to the touch that you chicken out, glancing away as you whisper, “Will you do something for me before you go?”

“Hmm?”

“Tuck me in?”

The noise that comes out of him is half-grunt, half-chuckle. Joel for, ‘You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.’ But he obliges, pulling his soft cock from your body at a mercifully slow speed before allowing you to make yourself comfortable. He sorts out your blanket and drapes it over your body, then starts fishing his clothes off the floor.

Tugging his shirt over his head, he asks, “Need anything else, princess?”

You’re sure it’s a dig, but choose to ignore it as you snuggle into the covers and hint, “Don’t make me wait so long next time.”

He sits down at the edge of your mattress and threads his legs through the boxers, “I’ll make you wait as long as you need to. What else?”

“Mmm. Goodnight kiss?”

“Goodnight kiss,” he scoffs to himself, then looks back over his shoulder at you, “Fine, then I’m goin’ to bed.”

He turns to face you more directly, folding a knee onto the bed as he leans in and tilts your head to the side, pressing a gentle kiss into your cheek. Even though you wish he had kissed your lips, you close your eyes and savor the affection while you can.

After murmuring goodnight, Joel leaves. He crawls back into bed with your mother while you memorize the sound of his retreating footsteps.

#joel miller #x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the last of us smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ruthless joel miller #whatsnewalycat writes #pedro pascal smut

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loreoftheforgotten · 11 months

Text

things i think the different robins were known for other than “happy/angry/etc.”

because that’s boring (also i sorta don’t like it very much)

dick: the “expressive” robin

- very expressive

- talked a lot with his hands

- big hand motions

- gestured a lot and would often trail off in the middle of sentences to gesture instead

- in his first year you could always tell what he was thinking based off his expression

jason: the robin that “swears a lot”

- don’t get me wrong, i do actually think jason was more of the “happy” robin than dick

- but he swears a lot

- like a lot

- you can tell how he’s feeling by how many swears he uses in combination with one another

- fuck = normal emotion level

- motherfucker = slightly elevated emotion level

- motherfucking shit holy fuck = elevated emotion level

- you motherfucking asshole piece of fucking shit = very elevated emotion level

tim: the “shy” robin

- okay first of all, i don’t think he’s shy, but in comparison to how expressive the other two robins were???

- he definitely gets dubbed the shy robin by the citizens of gotham

- like he’s literally not even shy, he’s just not as loud as the other two? tim has like,, normal kid energy levels

- gotham is just used to kids with crazy insane energy levels and loud personalities which tim Does Not Have

steph: the “dare” robin

- i feel like she’d get a lot of comments about how different she is from the other robins (the most glaring difference being she’s a girl)

- obviously she quickly gets sick of this

- then she gets competitive.

- some thug: y’know the last robin did *insert thing*

- steph: OH SO YOU DARE ME TO DO IT?! YOURE DARING ME RIGHT NOW TO DO *insert thing*?!! ALRIGHT BET *does insert thing*

damian: the “art critic” robin

- gotham feels like a city with a lot of graffiti

- naturally, damian has a lot of Opinions

- he voices these Opinions. a lot.

- especially while on patrol

- sometimes they’re good Opinions, sometimes they aren’t

- damian definitely has favourite artists, and he’s voiced his Opinion enough for everyone else to know who they are too

- sometimes they leave pieces dedicated to him (he loves them but will never say it out loud. just in case)

#anyways don’t take this too seriously #this is just for shits and giggles #dc #robin dick grayson #dick grayson #robin jason todd #jason todd #robin stephanie brown #stephanie brown #robin tim drake #tim drake #robin damian #robin damian wayne #damian wayne #the robins #batfam #batfamily

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xreaderanonaccount · 5 months

Note

yandere webttore x fem reader smut pls? I wont him....... so badly....

Synopsis: You were just a simple baker in Snezhnaya that was being harassed by a local gang. Lucky for you one of your regulars just so happens to be the 2nd Harbinger of the Fatui. All he wants in return is a favor.

Webttore is a segment of actual Dottore, Reader is wearing a dress,

Tags: NSFW MINORS DNI, DUB-CON, AFAB Reader, slight Stockholm Syndrome, P with plot, Yandere, human body parts, grinding, fingering, orgasm denial, rough s*x, Not Beta read

A/N: Inspired by that one Mafia!Bucky x Reader series here on tumblr. I can't find it and i'm sad cause i really liked reading it. This is also my first time writing a Yandere character so I hope I did a good enough job

Words: 3.5K

There’s a small bakery in a quiet street on the outskirts of the Capital of Snezhnaya. Many of the Fatui Skirmishers come to visit before heading out. They claim it’s good luck. You are always happy to do business with the Fatui, as that rakes in revenue for you. But recently you were having a slight problem. A local gang has been trying to pry money out of you, “for protection” they claim, but you do know that it's bogus. You tried to tell them no but they seem to not take that answer well. They come in almost everyday to harass you about it. At this point it’s part of your routine. You wake up, get the bakery ready, and get harassed by the gang. They normally harass you about money, always coming in disrupting business or graffiti rude and cruel messages on your windows. But you never gave in, you just sighed and fixed everything. There’s no need to cry over spilt milk, that’s what your mother would always tell you. It was one of those days where you were being harassed again by this local gang.

“Just give us the money, then your debt will be paid.” One of the gang members spatted, his temper clearly waning by the minute.

“Why would I? And what debt would I incur during this time period?” You questioned, cleaning a glass cup. You were not amused by this, it’s the third time this week and you are quite getting used to your new routine.

“For protection obviously!” Another one spat slamming his fist on your counter. You rolled your eyes at their foolish behavior.

“Oh, protection? But I do believe that the Fatui Harbingers and their men have it all covered. No?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. The gang member stuttered for a bit before another one, a much bigger one, slammed his gun on your counter.

“Listen here, you’re going to give us the money or else-”

“Or else what?” A new voice spoke up, one that you’re not familiar with. Looking over you spot a tall man with icy blue hair sitting idly in the booths stacks of paper scattered around the table.

“And who are you?” One of the members asked, storming up to the man. You quickly walked around the bar putting you between the gang and the icy haired man.

“Leave him out of this. You can threaten me all you want but the minute you threaten a customer it’s over.” You glared at them, but a small chuckle was heard behind you. You heard some shuffling before you felt a presence behind you. You looked up seeing the icy blue hair man behind you.

“See, I really like this place. It gives me time to get away from them and now… it’s ruined. By you lot.” His tone was cold as he slowly approached the gang. But they didn’t move.

“Oh yeah, and who are you, a high ranking Fatui Harbinger?” One asked, pointing a gun right to his face. You couldn’t see what the strange man did next as he gestured to something on him. But whatever it was it clearly scared the gang away. Their faces were pale as they exited the store. One muttered that they’ll be back, but the other didn’t say anything. Now it was just the two of you.

“Ha, sorry for dragging you into this mess.” You sighed, running your hand through your hair. The man gave out a chaotic cackle before whipping around to see you. You finally get a good view of him. He had striking red eyes, the already described icy blue hair, and his outfit was strange. A white dress shirt with an overexaggerated collar, paired with a black vest. Strange clothing for the middle of winter in Snezhnaya. Let’s not mention the blue earring he wore that has some sort of liquid in it.

“Hmm,” The man hummed as he circled around you like a predator eyeing their prey. He stopped right behind you, you felt his hands run through your hair playing with it a bit.

“You have nice hair, and very healthy organs.” He chuckled a bit.

“Thanks?” you tried to smile, but this is totally weird. Was he trying to compliment you, or something? You gave a weary look as you watched him slide back into his booth and continue looking around his stack of paper. You sighed as you walked around the counter, you have to repay him with something right? An idea popped in your head as you smiled to yourself. As you prepare your little surprise for the stranger, everytime you glance in his direction he always seems to be looking at you at the same time. Strange, but this man is already strange already.

After a couple of minutes you approached the strange man again. As you approached him, he seemed to sense your presence and watched you set a plate down.

“This… is a little thanks for helping me with those nut jobs.” You suddenly felt shy under his gaze. But he didn’t say a word as he took a bite out of the warm pastry.

“Thanks.” He said muffled by the pastry that was in his mouth.

“No, thank you.” You smile as you walk away, going back to cleaning the mess the gang left behind. It seems that you have a new routine, you wake up, get the bakery ready, get harassed again, but now you have your new regular. The strange ice blue haired man comes in everyday it seems to work? You don’t really know, you never really pry into it. He always comes in and gets the same thing. A pure black iced coffee with a nice warm pastry. You're always confused when he asks for ice coffee as it’s Snezhnaya, the temperatures are always in the negatives. But he seems to enjoy his order. You can’t complain, he seems to help out when the gang comes in to harass you.

But for the past few weeks he hasn’t shown up.You were concerned and asked around but no one seemed to know what or who you were talking about. But something strange started to happen. Dead bodies have started showing up around your bakery. Either in your front door, in your alley way, or in the back door, wherever there is a spot a body was found. And every single time the body belonged to the gang that was harassing you. And every single time there was a message written in their blood confessing their crimes of harassing you. You were freaked out about it, thinking there was a serial killer on the loose and you reported it to the nearest Fatui station. The Fatui seemed to care for about a week but then stopped. They dropped the case saying that the 2nd Fatui Harbinger Il Dottore dropped the case. Which is strange because Lord Pucinella is in charge of the capital’s police so why is the Doctor dropping the case? You were lowkey freaked out about everything, but everytime you were scared to leave the strange man always seemed to appear. Always willing to walk you home, and if anytime you ask about his whereabouts he would just dismiss the question. Although a little freak out you didn’t question why he was here. It was nice to have someone watching over you especially when it seems that someone is clearly doing a revenge for you.

On one fateful night, a quiet night you were alone in your bakery cleaning some dishes when you heard a high pitch scream. Your head shot up as you gently placed down the cup. The screams died out, and the silence after was deafening. Did you just hear the last moments of someone's life? You hesitated to leave the backroom before you heard a little ding, it rang around the quiet bakery, you were frozen not knowing what to do.

“Darling are you there?” A familiar voice spoke up, it was that man. You quickly walked out of the room already babbling about what just happened. But you were stopped in your tracks, your eyes went wide, and face went pale. There he stood covered in blood, his face like a maniac as he held a little box with a pretty bow on top.

“W-what happened to you?” You stuttered as you slowly approached the man who gave a crazed smile holding out a box.

“I got you a present.” Completely ignoring the question he set the present in your hands. The blood smeared all over your hand.

“What is it?” You hesitatingly asked.

“Open it,”

You slowly pulled the little ribbon on the top, the ribbon fell gracefully on your blood stained hands. Slowly taking the top off you only caught a glimpse of the inside before dropping it. Falling out of the gift box was a human heart, the blood oozing out of the heart pooling on your recently cleaned floor. You scrambled back, your back hitting against the wall harshly.

“W-what is this?” You exclaimed looking over at him, all he had was a small smile as he walked around the counter getting closer to you.

“A profession of my love, darling.” His small smile turned into a smile.You were still scrambling away to the back room.

“With a human heart! What is wrong with you?” You yelled, all he did was start to laugh, a laugh that soon turned into a cackle.

“What is wrong with me? With me? Oh darling, everything.” He made eye contact with you, his eyes blown wide with lust as he continued his approach.

“Those little gang members won’t hurt you ever again.” He whispered as he encaptured you between his arms against the wall. Inches away from his face as he gave a manic smile.

“You did this, killed all those gang members?” Your voice wobbled as you tried to grasp the situation.

“Oh yes, I did, made sure they won’t hurt you ever again.” He whispered, his face inches away from you. You were shaking uncontrollably, you didn’t know how to react.

“Please don’t hurt me.” You whispered your voice quivering with every word. The man just cackled as he rested his head against your shoulder.

“Hurt you… haha… I can never hurt. Not you, never.”

“I… don’t even know your name.” He stared straight into your eyes, his ruby red ones shining in the light, piercing through yours.

“I go by many names, but I prefer you call me Zandik.” Zandik reached out to your face, creasing it, the smell of metal filled your senses as he spread the blood all across your face. He leaned in his lips inches away from yours, you can feel his breath against your face.

“I would kill the whole world for you, I want you so badly. Please…” He pleaded, resting his forehead against yours.

“I…I…”

“Please…” You looked away for a second before Zandik let out a sound of frustration before slamming his lips against yours. It was rough, he had your arms pinned, you can’t move an inch. When he pulled away he smiled as he stroked your cheek. You’re pretty sure that the majority of your face is covered in blood.

“I want you.” He murmured against your skin as his hands trailed back untying your apron.

“Do you want me?” He asked looking straight into your eyes, you just nodded. He started to laugh, the mood completely shifting for both of you. For him he was ecstatic, but for you… you have no idea. You were scared, afraid, but also calm? Like sure this Zandik man killed a bunch of men, but he did it in your honor. He has no ill intention on harming you, and he is clearly doing it out of love. But do you love him? All these thoughts stirred in your head as you felt Zandik’s hands trailed down your dress till it was underneath the frills.

“Haa, do that again? Make that sound again, you sound so cute.” He breathed as he started to hike up your dress. The dress crumpled up to your waist as you obliged his request by whimpering again as you felt the cold wind of Snezhnaya brush against your legs. Zandik pulled back admiring how you looked. He chuckled as he leaned in towards your ear.

“You look beautiful with all this blood. So beautiful…” He whispered as he worked his way towards your panties. But was stopped your sudden grip on his wrist. He looked shocked at your audacity to stop his advancement.

“C-could you at least wash the blood off your hands.” You mumbled as you looked away, “I don’t really want someone’s blood inside me.” It clicked in Zandik’s head and he rushed over to the sink, scrubbing his hands clean of all the blood. You stood there in shock on what’s happening. Everything is settling on you like a ton of bricks. This man who you're about to have sex with just killed a bunch of people these past months, and just professes his love to you with a human heart. How… strange. You listened to him mutter to himself something about, “not wanting other guys dna inside you.” that “you belong to him and him alone.” or “I’ll never let anyone hurt her again.” You weren’t going to lie, it was lowkey hot to see him like this. He patted his hands down on his pants before latching himself back onto you. His lips were back onto yours devouring you lips like there was no tomorrow. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips as he started to slowly grind against you. You could feel how hard he was against your cloth vagina.

“I can’t help myself dear, you are so perfect.” He murmured against your skin, you felt his gloved hands trail down playing with the edge of your underwear. You felt him smile against your skin as he pulled your underwear to the side and plunge two fingers into your soaking wet clit. You heard him groan as he worked your way through your vagina.

“You’re already so wet for me dear. So perfect, taking in my fingers like this.” He moaned as he fastened his pace. The moans couldn’t stop as you closed your eyes. The feeling was so overwhelming, the foreign feeling of his leather gloves pistoning in and out of you felt strange yet pleasurable. Zandik was biting against your skin, his shark-like teeth biting down on your exposed neck, you felt your blood trickle down your neck. His pace fastened with each thrust, you couldn’t hold back your moans. Whimpering his name every now and then, which seemed to get a reaction out of him.

“Ha, I’m close.” You breathed out, feeling the coil tighten in your stomach. But the minute you said that you felt Zandik’s fingers ripping out of your inside. You whined at the sudden loss of his fingers.

“I know darling, but I promise you. I’ll make you feel so so much better. I swear.” He cackled as he fiddled with his pants. You intently watched as he pulled his now hard cock out. He slapped it against your clit, earning a moan. You eyed at the sheer size of his cock. It was huge. You don’t think it would fit inside you.

“It’s not going to fit.” You exclaimed, panicking looking up to Zandik’s glaring red eyes.

“Too big? Haha, don’t worry darling, I’ll make it fit.” Zandik smiled as he lined up his cock with your vagina.

“It’s not going to fit-” You were cut off as Zandik shoved his girthy cock all the way in one go. You yelled in pain and pleasure by the stretch. You tried to tell him to slow down but your cries fell on deaf ears as Zandik set a rough pace. He seemed to lose his own pleasure to listen to your pleas. You felt tears start to flow down your cheeks by the stretch of Zandik’s dick. Zandik started to laugh like a mad man looking down on you, his eyes wide like a crazed man.

“You look so beautiful like this darling, so beautiful when you cry.” He laughed, slamming his lips against yours, kissing your pain away.

“Please, I want to cum.” You cried pulling away from him, the pain turning into pleasure as Zandik continued his rough pace.

“Ha, so obedient, so perfect. You were made for me,” He moaned as he gently cupped your face.

“Look at you, you were worried about my dick fitting yet look,” He tilted your head to see his dick disappear inside your vagina with each rough thrust, “your pussy was made for me, molded just me, and me only.” Your walls flutter against his dick with his words, which causes Zandik to groan.

“And now, you’re sucking me in with every thrust. Greedy greedy girl.” He chuckled as he captured your lips again. When he pulled away, a thin string of spit kept you connected.

“I’ve been aching for you for weeks now,” He started his confession, “every night, I would imagine how perfect you would be around my cock. And-ha, just look. It’s perfect, you're perfect, just for me. You’re mine, got it?” His words fell out of his mouth in pure pleasure as he started to draw dizzy circles around your clit. That sent your nerves into overdrive, moans kept falling out of your mouth. Your senses were sent into overdrive, every touch from Zandik made you clamp down around his dick. You couldn’t help it, the pure bliss that you were feeling was out of this world.

“C-close.” You were able to get out, Zandik just chuckled before quickening his already fast pace.

“Gods please, I want your vagina to suck me dry. Please, let me cum inside you.” Zandik moaned, “I want you to bear my children. Gods please.” All you could do is nod as you felt that coil tighten again in your stomach.

“Please Zandik, I want to cum.” You moaned, the mere mention of his name made him go into overdrive. Circling his fingers around your clit faster, and faster. Every sense went into overdrive and you couldn’t hold it in longer. Clamping down on his cock you shook violently as you screamed out of his name. Zandik continue his rough pace fucking you through your high.When you came down from your high, you felt Zandik pull out of your overstimulated hole. You whine from the empty feeling, as Zandik let you fall to your knees, exhausted from everything. But Zandik wasn’t done, he stroked his dick faster and faster aiming it straight to your face. He cupped your chin making you look up at him with your fucked out face.

“So beautiful, so perfect. Just for me, tell me you want me.” Zandik breathed, he continued to stroke his dick before you stop his action. Confused, he watched as you replaced his hands with yours as you started to stroke him from base to tip. Zandik eyes blown wide from your actions he couldn’t help but start to thrust into your hands.

“I’m yours.” You muttered as you gave kitten licks on his tips. Zandik groaned as his dick twitched in your hands. The white warm semen painted your face, he had so much cum in him that by the time he finished you are probably sure your face is covered full of cum and blood. Zandik was breathing heavily as he gave a cackle. He smeared the cum and blood across your face, giving a small smile.

“You look so beautiful with my cum painted all over your face.” You didn’t respond, only your heavy breathing was heard in the quiet bakery. You two stood in silence before Zandik noticed something outside the bakery, stuff his cock back into his slacks.

“Stay down there darling.” He smiled before turning towards the bakery door. You didn’t peak up but you heard the bakery bell ring indicating someone walked inside.

“Lord Dottore! We’ve been looking all over for you.” Someone said, Lord Dottore? You mean the 2nd Fatui Harbinger? You looked up at “Zandik” who was annoyed by the disruption.

“What is it?” He sounded annoyed.

“We’ve located the gang that was harassing the bakery owner.” One of them stated, you watched as “Zandik” snatched the paper out of the person's hands.

“Very well, get to it then. I want any survivors sent to the lab. Have Prime deal with it.” He sounded a mix of boredom and anger as he dismissed the people who entered the bakery.

“Yes lord Harbinger.” They both said, before you hear them walking out of the bakery. Zandik turned back to you, giving you a wicked smile.

“Y-you’re the 2nd harbinger?” You whispered trying to scoot away.

“Oh are you scared now that you know my identity? Aw, you hurt me dear.” “Zandik” smiled, kneeling down to your level. He reached out for you stroking the cum and blood across your face.

“I promise you no one will hurt you again right?” You nodded at his statement, “Good. Now that I marked you I will always protect you… from anyone.”

A/N: divider credits: cafekitsune

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #genshin smut #dottore x female reader #genshin x reader smut #il dottore #webttore #webttore x reader

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racunboy645 · 3 months

Text

#underground #dark #smog 645 #graffiti #hip hop hooligan #gabber #hardcore techno #hardcore rap #vandal tags #hardcore music #bandcamp #techno #dub core #dub bass

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bellewintersroe · 9 months

Text

Charles Leclerc x SchumacherDaughter! Reader

Lila is the youngest of the 3 Schumacher siblings, at 22 shes catching the attention of the public eye. With the new found popularity through Drive to Survive, social media has dubbed her the next ‘it’ girl despite her constant desire for privacy. When her love interest becomes more or less the most sought after man in F1, how will she cope with being the internets fascination? Both Charles and Lila have dealt with immense amounts of loss and trauma, so their mutual understanding for one another fuels their so called ‘friendship’. Part 1 - Just a Disclaimer- this will include no chapters where Lila will be interacting with Michael Schumacher, I don’t know enough about his condition nor do I feel respectful or comfortable writing about that! Everything else is purely fictional and I hope you all do enjoy this fanfic I’m planning on putting together 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

The familiar scent of petrol and rubber filled my nostrils as I followed behind my brother, Mick through the Formula 1 grid. The smell sent a wave of nostalgia through me as I deeply inhaled, reliving some of my best childhood years with just that one smell. The sight of the red Ferrari uniforms gave me the sensation I’d time travelled back to when I was still toddling around, my earliest memories of F1 being of the team.

I almost felt like I was betraying Mercedes by being in Ferrari garages, but I’d purposefully asked my brother to take me around the Monegasque track where we used to spend so much time playing in the garages, and on the sidelines as children. “Oh, Mick, do you remember when we used to draw all over that floor with chalk.” I pointed out to the floor below as my elder brother laughed, strutting past the exact same patch of floor we used to graffiti. “We’d always get in so much trouble!” He responded as I smiled, following after him, too caught up with all the different sights and sounds to realise he’d ventured off a little further and faster for my legs to catch up. “Mick!” I exclaimed, as I did, my body crashed into somebody else’s as I gasped out loud. “Oh! Only me, love!” I was relieved to see it was George Russell, hands on both my shoulders as he guided me to the side, steadying me from my almost fall. “Oh, sorry.” I laughed as he patted me on the upper back. “Don’t be running across here when there’s actual cars moving.” “I’ll try my best.” I breathlessly spoke, face heating intensely, before catching up with Mick who was already chatting away to somebody I couldn’t quite see, hidden behind my taller sibling. “Mick, I almost fell over, I’m embarrassed.” As my brother stepped to the side he revealed a dark haired, Ferrari man. Charles Leclerc. I had to do a double take, he was incredibly beautiful.

“This is Lila.” Mick gestured, as though he’d just been talking about me. I was momentarily lost for both breath and words. My eyes widened, eyeing up both Charles and my brother nervously. “Hello, Lila.” He spoke first as I offered him an uncontrollable smile, seeing him move forwards to welcome me in a hug. “Hi!” I borderline squeaked, inhaling his expensive smelling cologne. He’d kissed one of my cheeks in a greeting as I went to pull back from pure nerves but he went in for the other cheek, of course, we were European.

“Sorry..” I giggled, my hands on his shoulders as he laughed back to me, shaking his head in amusement as I felt momentarily lost in his gaze. Wow. He truly lived up to his reputation. He was breathtakingly beautiful, so cute. “It’s nice to meet you, Charles.” I was quick to speak, both our eyes snapping away at the same time as I fiddled with my bracelets nervously. I never was good at meeting people, no matter how many of them I’d meet on a common occurrence. Being around the public eye wasn’t necessarily my thing, it scared me too much, the attention of it all- I tended to shy away.

“Nice to meet you too, are you English?” His brows furrowed, hands tightening around his water bottle, his question meaning I could hold my gaze on him once more. “English? No, I went to boarding school there for a while, that’s with the accent, but I am German.” Mick let out a roar of laughter at Charles comment. “English? With a Germany brother?!” He slapped Charles’ arm as I couldn’t help but giggle to myself. Poor Charles, he seemed a little nervous.

“I know… stupid question.” He sheepishly spoke as my brother began speaking again, “I was just showing her around the grid and garages- we spent a lot of time here as kids.” Whilst he did, I dared to glance up at Charles again, I was stunned to see him do the same as we both looked away with a smirk. Oh wow…

“Oh yeah, of course, I bet it is strange being back here?” Charles directed the conversation back to me as I felt my cheeks warm further under his attention.

“It is… oddly it’s not changed that much?” I frowned towards Mick who nodded along. “It’s nice though, I have such a soft spot for Ferrari. We used to play in this garage so much.” I gestured, shrugging my shoulders awkwardly.

“Uhhh, a soft spot?” Charles looked back to me, a little confused as he practically giggled. “You know, like a favourite?” Mick spoke. “Ohhh, yes! Good!” Charles grinned as I too, giggled to myself, digging my white converse into the floor below.

“I hope not, what happened to Mercedes?!” Mick then asked as I playfully rolled my eyes. “Mercedes will always be my number 1, sorry Charles.” I teased. “Nooo.” He played along as I chewed down on my bottom lip, pursing my lips, anything to stop grinning like an utter fool. I couldn’t help it, Charles Leclerc was making me fluster like I was a teenager again!

“Good luck today, anyway, and to Carlos, it’ll be nice racing at home, no?” As Mick struck up a conversation with Charles my attention wandered to around the room, everything bustling, preparing for the practice and qualifying races that would be taking place later today. I hope we hadn’t come at a bad time, there was still so many people to see, yet everybody seemed so busy.

“Ah, thank you, hopefully better than last year.” Ah, of course, Ferrari’s infamous strategy failures. They’d been making a lot this season, I couldn’t imagine how frustrating that was for both Charles and Sainz. “I’m sure it will be.” Mick slapped his shoulder again. “We better head to find Jean.” My brother turned to me as I nodded.

“Good luck.” I turned back to Charles whose lips tugged up into a wider smile. “Thank you, it was nice to meet you.” He nodded, accent thick as I held eye contact, purposefully. As nerve wracking as I found it, I couldn’t look away, this time as he looked back I felt my stomach involuntary fill with butterflies. For the rest of the day it kept knotting whenever I thought about Charles. I’d found myself purposefully looking out for him, on the grid, when he was racing, in the garages- I was intrigued by the Ferrari racer, as was the rest of the world…

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #mick schumacher

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faunandfloraas · 2 months

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Eternity, Bang Chan - 2024 // Eternity, Arthur Stace - 1932 to 1966.

In 1932, residents all over the city of Sydney started noticing something interesting, the word “Eternity” written on the pavement or wall, over and over again. The word was seemingly written by the same person each time, in a beautiful copperplate script. The mystifying and intriguing presence of graffiti before graffiti was commonplace had Sydney residents pondering who this "Eternity man" could be. In 1956, the mystery was solved- Arthur Stace, a former soldier and alcoholic, turned man of faith, had inscribed the word over Sydney's suburbs more than half a million times between 1932 and 1966. He chose to write the word in the early hours of the morning, when few people were around, managing to keep his identity a secret for over 20 years. Something about the word eternity, written in fleeting chalk on the ever-changing city streets, seemed to compel locals- Newspaper writers published account after account speculating on the identity of this unknown man and the occasional false confession helped to maintain the air of wonder and mystery that surrounded the anonymous "Eternity man". Even after his identity had been revealed, Mr. Eternity, as he came to be dubbed, continued writing his eponymous "Eternity" across the walkways and walls of Sydney for another decade, becoming a beloved character in the city until his passing at the age of 82, in 1967. Now, nearly 60 years after the final "Eternity" by Arthur Stace was written, his message of eternity still manages to permeate the minds of Sydneysiders- becoming a representative word of the city.

#As soon as I saw the music video was all him (and berry) walking around sydney and the song was called eternity I couldn't not think of this #and no one optimizes sentimental Sydney boy like Christopher Bang so.#Thus this idea was born.#stray kids #Bang Chan #christopher bang #bystay #skz #skzedit #stray kids gifs #skz gifs #sydney #arthur stace #cb97 #funny how he wrote it in chalk and they've all long since been washed away- and he was poor and had no children #yet his little eternity signature means he'll be remembered a lot longer then he ever would have been otherwise #at the 2000 olympics they lit up an eternity across the harbour bridge in his writing #and there's a theater named for him too

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mikec137 · 1 year

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Basel, Switzerland, October 2022

#graffiti #niro-dubs #niro #dubs #zx #mdcr #mgs #bang

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an-archaic-archivist · 5 days

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I always found it weird how Vanny is dubbed the "reluctant follower" yet judging from the way she moves around and talks, she seems anything but reluctant.

Now you could argue it's because of the brainwashing, and it probably is to some extent. But even after she's been set free, she still acts like a weirdo given how she leaves the player to die in HW2 and all the graffiti of her we see in Ruin. I find it hard to believe that Vanessa would ever want to go back there unless it's completely necessary, let alone wasting hours of her time spray painting the name of her murderous split personality all over the place. You can tell that she hated being there from the way she talks both in the main game of SB and in the hidden CD's.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #vanny #fnaf vanny #vanny fnaf #vanny the bunny #fnaf vanessa #five night's at freddy's security breach #fnaf gif #sb vanessa #vanessa afton

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guppyfish77 · 4 months

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Another year Another summary of Art! An Entire Year of Submas lets gooooooooooo!!!! This year I feel like I really pushed myself when it comes to illustrations and I feel like I've learned a lot! But at the same time I feel a little tired, next year I think I wanna relax and experiment a bit more, I gotta learn to loosen up! Might get more art out if I do :p

I also feel the Submas grip ever so lightly relaxing (unless they decide to do Unova remakes haha XD), so I might introduce some of my numerous ocs in 2024! I'll probably start with the conductor oc ;]

Thank you for all your support! (you are all very nice! ToT), I still have a good amount of submas stuff planned in the works so look forward to that (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

If you are interested, I also have some commentary and behind the scenes for some of my submas illustrations! I wanna talk about it and now seems like a good time to do so now that the year is over! (Beware! its going to be long!)

All titles are linked to the original post

Lunch Break

hoho! This one is the sort of AU thing in which the only thing that changes is that I give Emmet a Victini friend (not a part of his team, I dubbed them the "victory duo" because Emmet likes winning and Victini is the Victory Pokemon), I planned out a few wordless comics regarding the idea, they were all very lighthearted slice of life kind of stuff, usually Victini causing some mischief and the brothers having to deal with it

and here's the thumbnails for this piece! I played around with various angles but decided to keep it simple and choose a straight on angle. It was originally a snack break and Emmet sharing a granola bar with Victini, but as I was planning it, submas unexpectedly showed up in the Pokemon Anime where they were serving ekiben, after learning about it it quickly turned into a lunch break! (how fun when new information lines up with an art piece you are working on hoho! ^ ^) After studying what foods Ekiben usually have in them (there was quite a variety!) I took what I learned and try to make the food look like the gear station logo :D

In the background there are children drawings because in the battle subway one of the trainer classes you can face off against are preschoolers, and I thought at least one of them would share their drawings with the subway bosses (and of course why wouldn't they hang it up?), there is also a trophy in which you can get in the players room if you beat the subway bosses on the super trains (one day, battling competitively is not my forte), I did my best to make Emmet's office feel lived in by adding a little bit of clutter (like adding a note) but overall very organized

(hey hey that joltik mug looks familiar in the corner there, its the same one Rei is holding in the christmas drawing)

Bonus Emmet and Victini Drawings

aw come on dude, not on the trains!

ah this one, it gave me quite a bit of frustration! This piece I used to challenge myself on perspective, and challenge me it did! The version you see now is I believe the 6th iteration of this drawing! The reason for restarting so many times is because I originally wanted it to be in 3 point perspective, but I couldn't get it to look right so its now in 2 point... Haha Some valuable lessons learned there!

This illustration was inspired by the history of New York Subway Trains and Graffiti! I read about it when I got to visit the New York Transit Museum and found it super interesting!! Then I went I gotta do something with this! Since Unova is based in New York after all!

I got so many subway surfer comments, they don’t know I forgot subway surfers existed while making this and that I am a huge nerd lmao

I had a lot of fun designing the graffiti on the train (yes it says among us) stylizing the fictional letters was so fun! I studied some graffiti to see how they do it, I could've pushed the graffiti style more but then it would be illegible! I also mixed in elements of Grafaiai graffiti, and trainer that is running away is the artist trainer class in SCVL because they are graffiti artists! And the train that got graffitied is the Wifi Train, due to BW (and the DS) servers being shut down, I doubt that train gets used much anymore, which makes it a perfect target!

Derailed!

hohoho! This was a fun one! I'm not sure how many of you guys read my tags, but in there I did state that this piece was based off the fact that model trains are powered by electrifying the rail it runs on (very low watts mind you) and the fact that Joltik eats electricity, but thats not the only inspiration, it was also inspired by those videos of cats laying on the layout and derailing the train!

Theres quite a variety of thumbnails for this idea (including a comic!), and the idea was there in 2022, but this year I decided to fully commit to it! I started rendering the top right one and almost finished it, but it felt really boring to me, so I switched it up and made some thumbnails in a new perspective and viola! thats what ended up being finished!

The train that is being derailed are Sanriku Railway Type 36s, based off a model train I have in my collection! (While sharing this fact on the original post Haiku Bot detected it as a Haiku?! and this art went out of my target audience, that certainly was a day (⊙□⊙;))

Also I straight up put a picture of Thomas the Tank Engine in the background, I'm not sure if people noticed cuz its quite blurry, the fact that nobody said anything means I probably would’ve gotten away with it before sharing this fact, so hehe :3c

Unexplained Melancholy

eyy! this one! It started out wholly different

It was originally me dropping Warden Ingo in various natural landscapes around Hisui as I didn't feel like drawing anymore linear perspective (ah, but heres the thing, all environments require a little bit of perspective lol), and it was just going to be Warden Ingo hanging out in a lush forest, specifically by the train rock that was shown in his concept art! but after sitting on it, I realized I could do something more with it! by making it a snowy environment I could make callbacks to Emmet's coat being white! hence the "SNOWY!!!" being scribbled there, that was added like weeks afterwards, Then I realized I could push it even more by making the whole environment about Emmet's colors! So the new thumbnail is in color because thats whats its about!

The moon smile thing was stumbled on by complete accident, while working on it it felt empty there and I added Emmet's smile to fill the space before going "moon!!!"

The piece is also a sort of a parallel to last years piece “I am Emmet, I wish for Ingo and I to be a two-car train once more” composition wise, sort of, I tried to at least 👍

Black Tower and Whitetree Hollow

Ah! I was quite proud of this one! Black City and White Forest are some of my favorite places in Unova mainly because the parallels are so very cool!

As the thumbnails suggest it was all going to be in complete black and white, as I was working on it though I could not help but add some values in there so yup! I quite like both compositions but the perspective won me out, plus that one focuses more on the characters than the other one (as much as I love backgrounds, it really is supposed to be about Emmet and Ingo U_U)

Being places of duality and having a battle challenge in there, it really fit them!

Emmet drops the hottest single of all time 🔥🔥🔥

Not really much to say about this one since it was very much done on a whim, but

its not the first time I drew Emmet with his hat backwards, I did this little doodle around the same time I did the train graffiti piece, been wanting to do something with this silly idea, and when I heard that audio, I went :o

Following Some Rumors of a Time Machine

the finale! I decided to choose Area Zero because its a very cool place! I am inspired by cool places! and I decided to give it my all for this one!

The thumbnail I made was more for jotting down the idea, and the landscape was going to be more eyelevel? Later I decided to make it so you were looking down into the crater and you get to see the fog blocking the crystal caverns, to show that Emmet was going deeper into Area Zero and the Deepest part is his destination (the time machine, not the underdepths, I didn't know about that yet haha!) I was always going to make Emmet encounter a Slither Wing, with it being based off Volcarona, a gen 5 pokemon :]

Anyways, That's all I have to say! I hope you found it interesting! (and enjoyed my varying quality in sketches and thumbnails XD) Thanks for listening! see you in 2024! ✌

#Art Summary 2023 #Art Summary

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