#F! OC

[ryuzakemo128]

What if.....

Parings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Oksana Ivanova / Johnny Mactavish x Military Psychologist! You, Female Reader / Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Military Psychologist! You, Female Reader

Credit for the Dividers go to: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Masterlist / Decription of Oksana

Words: 3048

Content Warning: Cursing/ swearing, implications of smut. Jealousy from you, mention of child abuse, graphic themes of violence and domestic abuse. Dark Themes and references. Read at your own discretion.

Summary: “You only speak to me when you only want something. Spit it out then.”

Simon’s office consisted of a large wooden desk, a large comfortable chair he didn’t particularly like seeing other people sitting in. Often shooing them away from it with the intention of ensuring they wouldn’t break it before he could really put some real wear and tear into it. A leather, cushioned, reclinable desk chair.

The painting of the docks above his chair was the only piece of décor against the dim concrete walls for a while. Until he brought in blue-grey coloured curtains for the window looking into the office. Bringing a little more colour to his office. Even if this office would be as temporary as the life he was living now. As everything in life is temporary and soon enough, he will die, he will be replaced by someone else entirely. It was just how life was. It is how life shall be. No matter what happens.

The desk itself was made from a nice cut of maple oak wood, and it cost him a pretty penny to both buy and haul into his office. He had his paperwork stacked neatly, just the way he liked it, he would get beyond annoyed when Soap or you would walk in leave something out of place on his desk and walk out.

It was like they enjoyed frustrating him to a degree that grated on him. It made it hard to work with either of them. He would have put in a transfer months ago, had he known how much of a jackass Soap would be by fucking you on his desk.

“Get out.” He said crossing his arms. “My office. My rules. Don’t do it again.”

He kept his office locked up tight after that. Refusing the to make a spare key for any of the team. Firm in his belief that what was in his office, stayed there, as his personal space. His own area where he didn’t have to put up his guard and listen to anyone.

He had many reasons to be upset with you. He would take that secret right to his grave if he had to. No reason to give you more ammo than you already had.

“Come on man.” Soap whined.

“No.” Simon told him again.

“Why not?” Soap asked him again.

“Cause I said so.” Simon answered again.

“Why can’t I go with you to meet this Russian chick you like so much?” Soap asked again.

“You know exactly why you’re not allowed to.” Simon reminded him. “You say the first thing that comes to mind when it comes to them.”

“That’s not true.” Soap snapped back at him.

“Well, how about the time you insulted the Russian pilot?” Simon reminded him.

“It was an accident I swear.” Soap protested.

“You made the poor woman cry.” Simon sighed shaking his head grabbing his keys. “Now scram. I don’t want to either of you inside my office when I lock it up.”

Soap and you shuffled out of his office reluctantly. Simon wasn’t going to let you or Soap ruin his chances with this one. He didn’t want to take that kind of risk of introducing you or him to her. He locked his office, the jingling of keys in his hand as he walked to his truck. He wasn’t going to give either you or Soap to tail him to where he was meeting her.

You whispered to Soap, "Who is he meeting with?"

Soap shrugged, "Someone from his past, I think. He's been acting weird since we got the intel on her."

“But he’s been acting weird even before then,” You reminded Soap.

Soap nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe it’s more than just a meeting with an old flame.”

You brought out a file with the name, ‘Captain Oksana Ivanova’. “Do you think he’s off to see her?”

You couldn’t help yourself, could you? The temptation of getting a background check on her ran strong within you. You convinced yourself it was for his own good that you were doing it for his benefit. Ignoring the gnawing jealously eating at you from the inside. Karma biting you on the arse. It had no intention of letting you get away with your mistakes without some kind of retribution.

“You only speak to me when you only want something. Spit it out then.” Simon sighed placing the folder of forms he was going to look at when you walked into his office.

You remembered how he was right then. Just like he was right now. You hated the fact that he seemed to be right about you in particular. He could make a random guess and still somehow get it right.

“We need to talk, Simon.” You started, placing the file on his desk. “It’s about Captain Ivanova.”

“You want to talk. You don't need to do anything.” Simon reminded you again making you feel like a child being scolded for stealing cookies from the jar. “But since you’re here, what’s this about Captain Ivanova?”

Oksana 'The Wolf', 'The Ghost of Siberia', 'The White Devil' Ivanova.

Her reputation proceeded her. Long before you had her file in your hands, you knew the name. Studied it, both from a psychologist angle, the angle from a doctor’s perspective and that of a tactician. You used her as a report for your psychology major, then you studied her tactics, her methods of warfare for your military career and now you were sitting here, about to face her in person. You felt your heart race at the thought of it.

The whispers of her tactical prowess had made its way to even the most secluded corners of the military base. Her story was like a myth, a legend whispered in the barracks and the mess halls. The way she could navigate the harsh terrain of her homeland with the grace of a wolf and the precision of a ghost. The way she had escaped death more times than anyone cared to count. The way she had turned the tide of battles single-handedly. The way she had left a trail of dead in her wake that was so cold, they called her 'The White Devil'.

“Are you jealous, (Y/L/N)?” Simon teased with a smirk on his lips. If you weren’t slightly flustered before, you are now.

You fumbled with the forms you filled out, you didn’t know what to say, or squeak out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mumbled hoping he wouldn’t dig further than he had already.

“Mhmmm. Right. Right.” Simon rolled his eyes at your attempt at sassing him. In your opinion, he was playing hard to get. Unfortunately for him you were hard to get rid of.

You leaned in a little further trying to get him to glance at your cleavage. Even a little bit. His gaze didn’t catch it, disappointing a little bit. Though you remember, he hadn’t had a serious date with someone that didn’t care that much about his height being six feet and four inches.

“You know you’d get more luck in the world of dating if you weren’t such a sour puss.” You remarked.

He cocked an eyebrow at what you said. “I’m only sour towards you. Which you earned with your ‘hard work’ and ‘dedication’ to your cause.” He felt so fucking validated in outing what you fucked up last week. “Go back to whatever that is you do here and let the bigger, taller guys handle to tougher shit.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to Simon, inching closer to him, as you traced your fingertips along the corners of his desk. “You know, you and I could go on a date if you want.”

“Aren’t you dating Soap?” Simon questioned as he rose from his chair to walk over to the filing cabinet.

“Semantics. Specifics and utterances of whatever.” You gestured like you knew what you wanted to say without saying much.

“I don’t think he’d agree with you on that one Pup.” Simon chided you. Tutting under his breath.

“I just wanted to give you helping hand you know.” You pouted, huffed and crossed your arms a little.

“Don’t get bratty with me.” Simon told you. “I don’t need help from someone who is willing to cheat on their boyfriend. No matter how much their boyfriend mightn’t care about it. I’m not the type to do that to someone.”

“Well maybe I’m trying to help you. Ever thought of that?” You snapped at him.

“Pup. Don’t make me discipline you.” Simon warned.

“What are you going to do? Spank me?” You taunted, inching closer to him.

“Don’t tempt me, pup.” Simon growled into your ear. Sending a shiver down your spine.

“You never called me pup before.” You couldn’t help but point out as you inch a little closer to him.

“I hooked up with the Russian woman I told you about last weekend. She’s the one who called me that first.” Simon taunted back at you. Hoping it would get you to back off.

Your face flushed a shade of pink as he sauntered back over to his desk. Picking up the phone to call Soap. “Soap, you better get your arse in here and get your girl. Before I pick her up and carry her to you.” He said into the phone in a kind of sing song voice that really hammered home that he still planned to get even with you somehow.

Soap rushed in, looking like he had just rolled out of bed, his shirt untucked and his pants half zipped. “What’s going on?” He asked, looking bewildered at the situation.

“Your girlfriend here just tried to ask me on a date.” Simon told him. Hoping to get them both to leave him alone. “I said you wouldn’t appreciate that, and I told her I’d carry her to you if she didn’t leave.”

Soap looked over at you, he knew what you were trying to do, he didn’t even have to get you to say it, either. Soap looked over to Simon again, who thought he would be able to get rid of two people with the same stone. As the saying went with birds. Simon, pleased with himself, Simon spraying down his desk with antiseptic cleaner that he bought for his desk. Specially made to clean and keep the wood varnish intact.

“What’s the deal, Simon?” Soap asked, glancing at you with a knowing smile. He knew you were up to something, he just didn’t know what it was yet.

“What? A man can’t clean his desk and appreciate it?” Simon had no idea what Soap was talking about this time. His focus on tidying the top of his desk so it looked like a lieutenant worked inside of it. “Johnny, in a place like the military, it’s a nice and lovely thing just to have some kind of normal. Even if it’s just a neat and tidy desk. I could be dead tomorrow. I don’t have time to get sentimental with people as much as objects. Oksana is just a friend Johnny. You don’t have to get jealous of her taking your weirdly shaped place in my heart, Johnny.”

The photo of Oksana and Simon inside of a bronze metal frame on his desk, the letter from Oksana still in the envelope despite the fact that it was opened by him several times. The same woman he spoke to, the same woman that felt more mythic legend than a real tangible person. It was a photo of the two them, Oksana stood to be two inches taller than Simon. The other photo on the wall above the pile of letters from her, the one of her in a Competitive Shooting Competition.

You didn’t think much of it at the time. As Simon was the one invited to watch her compete in it. Though the recorded message of her saying, “It was fun hanging out with you. Can’t wait to do it again sometime. Thank you for celebrating my 30th birthday with me too by the way. You didn’t have to. But it means a lot to me that you did. You’re worth more than gold and silver combined. Don’t let that soap boy tell you otherwise.”

Later that week after the day they hung out together. Simon had received a bouquet of red roses from her, along with a bottle of Marmont Siberian vodka, a large box of dark chocolates and a beige card within the flowers the red ink cursive handwriting. ‘For the friend I don’t deserve but glad to have. Thank you for being there for me.’

When Oksana Ivanova came around again, Soap was more than a little determined to get her to  talk to him. He had seen the way she had looked at Simon, and it was clear that there was a history there that went beyond mere friendship. Soap knew that Simon wasn't one to be jealous, but he also knew that the man had a serious soft spot for the Russian captain.

The abandoned cat Oksana rescued on the way there, the way she cared for the small thing,  even though it was nothing but a stray. “I have a habit of collecting strays I suppose.” she remarked talking about Simon and the cat. “Though I suppose that comes from being one myself.”

You knew exactly why she said that last part, unlike Soap, unlike Simon, you dug deep into her background, and you knew exactly why she called herself that. Oksana and her twin's parents might as well have thrown them to the wolves and left them to starve. During a medical examination, Oksana’s back scars were seen by Simon once, the deep scarring made by a whip. A whip that must have been used by her biological father or stepfather, either way it certainly left trauma she waded through inside of therapy.

Her twin sister, she didn’t take any of it because anything she ever did that was considered ‘wrong’ by either their biological or stepfather was covered up by Oksana. Taking the blame for it instead. ‘Through hell or high water, I will bleed before I let anyone touch either my twin or my younger brother. I’m the oldest, I’m the one who is supposed to protect them. It’s my job.’

Her younger brother, Sergei, had been the one to find Oksana that night, curled up and shivering in a snowbank, the whip marks stark against her bare skin. The memory of her pained whimpers and the fierce protectiveness in her eyes as she held onto her siblings. He didn’t have to go into grim, gross, graphic detail, though telling him to stop would be like telling a waterfall to stop falling.

Sergei said, “The flesh was too cold, she must've been out there for hours. Our stepfather came home drunker than usual that night, raving about how we were the curses that ruined his life. Oksana told us to stay in the basement until he passed out. She was always the brave one, the one who took the brunt of his rage so we wouldn’t have to. The sound of the whip that night, it was haunting. It was the worst one yet. Our stepfather got off on causing her as much pain as he  could. I don’t know how she survived it. I suppose he had it coming when he slammed her into wall, whispering disgusting shit he wanted to do to her. She reacted in self-defence and well, the rest is history.”

“I see you have met my younger brother.” Oksana walked in with pizza in her hands, “I got pizza guys. I managed to pick it up on the way here.”

Sergei replied, “Yeah, we were just chatting about old times.” His tone was forced, trying to lighten the mood that had thickened like the smoke from a grenade.

“Have you told them about your art yet?” Oksana asked Sergei, she was proud of him.

Sergei looked up at Oksana, his expression a mix of surprise and embarrassment. “I don't know if they'd be interested in that, sis.”

“Nonsense.” Oksana said with a warm smile, setting the pizza down on the desk. “Your art is amazing. Simon, Johnny, you both should see it.”

Simon’s gaze shifted to the newcomer, a cocktail of anger and curiosity swirling in his eyes. “Art?” He questioned, his voice gruff.

“Yeah. I encouraged him to get into art when we were younger.” Oksana answered.

“Why’s that?” You asked, hoping to get Simon’s mind off of the anger he had directed towards you.

“It's one thing for me and Katya to be in military and come out of it fine-ish.” Oksana explained. “Sergei, he had a real chance to grow up normally.”

Simon’s expression softened a bit at the mention of Oksana’s sister. “How’s she doing?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation to safer waters.

“She's an intelligence officer for the FSB.” Oksana answered. “She got married last year. I got meet my niece too.”

Simon’s eyes lit up at the mention of a niece. “How old is she?” He asked, his mind momentarily distracted from the rage that had been brewing inside of him.

“She recently turned two.” Oksana answered showing a photo of her to him.

The little girl had her aunt’s piercing blue eyes and her mother’s dark hair. She was dressed in a pink tutu, looking absolutely adorable. Simon’s expression softened even more as he took the phone from her.

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured, genuine warmth in his voice. “I can’t wait to meet her one day.”

Sergei brought out his recent artwork, it was a picture of a farm in Siberia, where they had lived before their mother had passed away and their father had remarried. The way the sunset painted the sky was beautiful, it was almost as if you could feel the coldness of the Siberian air just by looking at it.

Sergei gave it to Simon as a gift, a thank you gift for looking out for his older sister Oksana. Simon  looked at the picture for a long moment before setting it aside gently. “It’s beautiful, Sergei. You’re very talented.”

“Thank you for looking out for her.” Sergei told him verbally this time.

[bamsara]

Finor, the first follower.

[momoiro-hime]

putting my ocs in every AU i want part. 34791

| Do NOT repost or use without permission.

[bitty-bytes]

"Your boyfriend is evil!" "Your boyfriend is cruel and horrifying!" Well, he's a joy to me. Maybe it's a you problem.

[mssalo]

worship

Ignored and humiliated by your husband, you find yourself in Joel's arms-his best friend who's been silently craving you for far too long. One heated night pushes you both over the edge, and Joel isn't holding back. He's ready to give you what your husband never could: everything.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, cheating, body worship, your husband treating you bad, Joel treating you good, oral (f receiving), kissing, (P in V), pinning, cumming Inside, breeding kink, Joel gets nasty with it, 10k

Part: 2

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The late afternoon sunlight filtered gently through the lace curtains, casting soft patterns across the dining table where you sat with Sarah, helping her with her homework. Your smile, though kind, felt heavy today. You leaned over the table, explaining a math problem to her with patience, even though your mind was clouded with thoughts of your husband.

It had been weeks—maybe months—since he’d been fully present. You had long suspected something was off, but now it was undeniable. He came home late, if at all, and when he did, his eyes never seemed to meet yours. You’d catch glimpses of texts on his phone, messages you weren’t supposed to see. You weren’t stupid. You knew.

But you’d spent so long being the perfect wife, the one who never caused trouble. He’d always introduced you as his “trophy,” an arm to show off at events, beautiful and polished. It was the role you’d filled for years, playing the part he wanted you to play. Smile, be perfect, don’t question. And you had been doing just that for far too long, even though inside you were crumbling.

You brushed a strand of hair from your face and forced a warm smile as Sarah struggled with her fractions.

You adored Joel’s daughter. She was smart, sweet, and had a lightness about her that made your heart ache with a longing for the family you never had. Sarah was only fourteen, but she had a way of reading people that made you think she saw right through you.

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” you encouraged her softly. “Just think of the numerator as the number on top and the denominator as the number on the bottom.”

Sarah gave you a soft smile, but it was clear she wasn’t fully focused. Her big, brown eyes studied you carefully, picking up on the sadness that lingered just beneath the surface of your cheerful demeanor.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice hesitant but filled with concern. “You seem… off today.”

Your heart sank a little at the realization that she noticed. You were supposed to be the adult here, the one keeping it all together, but it was getting harder to hide the cracks. You blinked back the tears threatening to well up, reaching over to give Sarah’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m okay, baby,” you whispered softly, trying to steady your voice. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Sarah looked at you for a moment longer, her brow furrowed as if she didn’t quite believe you, but she didn’t push it. She was too kind for that, too sweet. You wished your own husband had even a fraction of the empathy this girl had. Instead, he barely acknowledged your presence anymore, leaving you to feel like a ghost in your own home.

After Sarah finished her homework, you walked her to the door, sending her off with her usual hug. She hugged you back tightly, sensing more than you were letting on, but when you said goodbye, you assured her again that you were fine. She gave you one last concerned look before heading home.

After Sarah left, the silence in the house became overwhelming, filling every corner with the weight of your thoughts.

You leaned against the door for a moment, closing your eyes, fighting the urge to let the tears spill over. It was getting harder to keep up the facade. The loneliness, the sense of being unseen in your own marriage—it was suffocating.

You’d done everything you could to save the relationship, to bring back the warmth that had once existed between you and your husband, but there was nothing left.

With a deep breath, you pushed away from the door and headed to the kitchen, trying to busy yourself with anything that could distract you from the ache in your chest. But the sound of a knock at the door startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You weren’t expecting anyone.

When you opened it, Joel stood on your porch, concern etched into his rugged features. His broad shoulders seemed even larger framed by the doorway, his familiar Texas drawl cutting through the silence as he spoke.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle but serious. “Sarah told me you weren’t doing too good today. Figured I’d come by and check on you.”

You blinked, surprised but not unwelcome to see him standing there. It took a moment for you to gather your thoughts, your heart catching in your throat at the sight of him. Joel had always been kind to you, always present in a way your husband wasn’t. He was a steady, comforting presence in your life, one you had grown to rely on more than you ever intended.

“I—I’m fine,” you stammered, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to worry her. It’s just been a long day.”

Joel’s brow furrowed, and he didn’t hesitate to step inside, closing the door behind him. He looked down at you with those dark, thoughtful eyes of his, reading you in ways you wished your husband still could. His gaze softened, but he didn’t buy your answer for a second.

“You don’t gotta put up a front with me,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I can tell somethin’s been bothering you.”

It was those words—the way he said them with such understanding, such care—that made something in you break. You couldn’t hold it together any longer, not with Joel standing there, offering the kind of concern and kindness you hadn’t felt in so long. The tears you had been holding back began to well up again, this time falling before you could stop them.

Joel stepped forward, his hands settling gently on your arms.

“Hey, hey now… don’t cry,” he murmured softly. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

His words, so simple yet so full of warmth, only made the tears come faster. You wiped at your cheeks, embarrassed that you were falling apart like this in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to… it’s just… everything feels so wrong.”

Joel’s grip tightened slightly, a gesture of reassurance. He guided you over to the couch, sitting beside you as you tried to compose yourself. You leaned into him instinctively, finding comfort in the solid presence of his body next to yours. Joel had always had this way of making you feel safe, like you could let your guard down without fear of judgment.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly, his hand still resting on your arm, warm and steady.

You hesitated, the words heavy in your throat. You’d kept it all inside for so long, afraid to say it out loud, afraid that acknowledging it would make it all too real. But sitting there, with Joel looking at you like he genuinely cared, it all came tumbling out.

“He doesn’t care anymore, Joel,” you murmured, the words spilling from your lips, weighed down by the months of heartache you had been carrying. “It’s like I’m invisible to him. He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t even look at me… and I know he’s seeing someone else.”

The effect on Joel was immediate. His jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his face twitching as he tried to contain the anger that flared up inside him.

His eyes darkened, filling with a storm of emotions—disbelief, frustration, and something protective, primal. His hand, which had been resting gently on your arm, tightened its grip slightly, grounding you as he processed your words.

He stared at you for a long moment, his face a mix of shock and disbelief, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could treat you that way.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Joel muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice low and rough. “How could he—how could anyone—do that to you? To you of all people?”

He shook his head, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His voice softened, but the rough edges of his anger were still there, simmering just beneath the surface.

“You deserve so much more than that. You deserve someone who sees you, who knows just how lucky they are to have you.”

Joel leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a low, urgent murmur as he continued.

“You’re kind, thoughtful… hell, you’re always puttin’ everyone else first. The way you care for Sarah like she’s your own, the way you keep your home so warm and welcoming, the way you’ve always been there for him… you’re so damn good, and he doesn’t even see it.” He shook his head again, the disbelief etched deep in his furrowed brow.

“How could he not see that? How could he throw that away?”

His eyes softened as he looked at you, filled with a mixture of admiration and frustration.

“It breaks my heart to see you treated like this. You deserve someone who cherishes you, who shows up for you, every day… who loves you for exactly who you are.”

His words hit you like a wave, each one wrapped in the raw sincerity and care that had always been so natural for Joel. You could see the anger and confusion in his eyes—he truly couldn’t understand how anyone could treat you as anything less than extraordinary.

You had been trying so hard to convince yourself that it was enough to be the perfect wife, to keep playing the role you had been assigned, but Joel’s kindness made you question all of it. His care, his attention—it was what you had been craving for so long, and now, here he was, offering it to you without asking for anything in return.

“But I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the weight of everything settled heavily on your shoulders. “I’ve tried so hard to make it work, to be what he wants, but nothing’s enough.”

Joel’s hand lifted to your face, gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his palm grounded you, the rough texture of his skin a stark contrast to the tenderness in his touch. He guided your face to meet his eyes, filled with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“You don’t need to be what he wants,” Joel said, his voice low, almost a growl, roughened by emotion.

“You deserve to be seen, to be loved for who you are. Not just for what you can give someone else.”

His words hung in the air between you, wrapping around your heart, pulling at the deepest parts of you that had felt so neglected, so starved for this very thing—connection.

The space between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken emotions that had been simmering for far too long. It was as though every unexpressed feeling, every suppressed desire had built up into a moment that neither of you could stop.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the ache of loneliness and longing that had been gnawing at you for months. Joel had always been there, quietly, steadily, offering you the care your husband never could.

And now, sitting so close to him, his hand on your cheek, the warmth of his body radiating toward you, the pull between you was undeniable.

“Joel…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your gaze flickering between his deep brown eyes and his lips, so close, so tempting.

He didn’t move away. Instead, his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. His touch was tender, but his eyes were dark, filled with something deeper—something that had been quietly building between you for longer than either of you cared to admit.

“I’ll take care of you,” Joel whispered, his voice rough with the promise of protection, of something more. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

Your heart raced, torn between the vulnerability of the moment and the undeniable comfort of his words.

The way he spoke, the way he looked at you—it was everything you had been craving for so long. The tenderness you had missed, the feeling of being truly seen, appreciated, cared for. It was overwhelming. And yet…

Before you could fully process what was happening, Joel leaned in. His lips brushed against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss. The world around you seemed to disappear, the only thing grounding you being the warmth of his lips and the steady strength of his hand still cradling your face.

The kiss was gentle at first, full of the tenderness and care you had longed for, but there was something else beneath it, something more intense, more primal, as if he had been holding back for too long and couldn’t anymore.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if needing something to hold on to, something solid in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

His kiss deepened slightly, his other hand moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer. It felt like everything you had wanted—someone who saw you, who cared for you, who wanted you.

But just as quickly as the warmth of the kiss had filled you, the weight of guilt crashed down like a tidal wave. You broke away, pulling back suddenly, your heart pounding in your chest, breath coming in short gasps. You shook your head, stepping out of his reach, the taste of his kiss still lingering on your lips, but your mind already spinning.

“I—” you stammered, the words barely forming as you backed away, your hands trembling. “I can’t… I’m sorry, Joel, I just… I can’t do this.”

The look on Joel’s face was one of hurt and confusion, but also understanding. He stood there, his arms falling to his sides as he watched you retreat.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice gentle, though the rough edge of his emotion was still there. “You don’t need to apologize.”

You took another step back, trying to steady yourself, your heart in your throat. “It’s not right,” you murmured, your voice trembling as you tried to rationalize everything that had just happened. “I can’t… I’m still married, and this… this is wrong.”

Joel didn’t argue. He didn’t push. He just watched you, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and a quiet sorrow.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt anymore,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “You deserve better than the way he treats you.”

His words hit you hard, but you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t face the reality of what had just happened, of what you had almost allowed yourself to feel. The guilt was too much, too overwhelming. You turned away, your hands still trembling as you moved toward the stairs, needing distance, needing space to breathe.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible as you left Joel standing alone in the living room. You hurried upstairs, your heart heavy, your mind racing, every step a reminder of the pull between you and Joel that you had just tried so desperately to resist.

When you reached the top of the stairs, you paused, your hand gripping the banister as you tried to steady your breath. You could still feel the warmth of his lips on yours, the safety of his arms around you, and it terrified you.

Because for the first time in so long, you had felt something real, something you wanted. And yet, the weight of everything else—your marriage, your vows, the guilt—it was too much to bear.

You didn’t look back, but you could feel Joel’s presence downstairs, lingering in the quiet of the house. His words echoed in your mind, and despite everything, you knew deep down that what he had said was true: you deserved more. But admitting that meant facing the truth about everything you had been avoiding for so long.

And you weren’t ready for that.

· · ─────

The days following the kiss were thick with awkwardness and tension that hung between you and Joel like a fog neither of you knew how to clear. Every time you thought about it—his lips on yours, the tenderness in his touch, the way he had made you feel seen and wanted—your stomach twisted with guilt. But there was another feeling too, one that gnawed at you in the quiet moments when you were alone: longing. That kiss had stirred something deep inside you, something that had been buried for far too long, and now, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You longed for that feeling again—the safety, the warmth, the tenderness that had been absent from your life for so long. It made the distance between you and your husband feel even wider, the coldness in your marriage more unbearable. But despite how much you tried to shake it, that kiss was constantly on your mind.

Then came the day Joel came over to watch the football game with your husband. You knew it was coming—your husband had mentioned it in passing—but you weren’t prepared to see Joel again. The thought of being in the same room as him after what had happened made your heart race and your palms sweat.

When Joel arrived, you could hear his familiar knock on the door, followed by your husband’s slurred greeting. He had already been drinking, you noticed. You had hoped he would keep it under control, but knowing him, that was never a safe bet.

You opened the door and found Joel standing there, looking as calm and collected as ever. But the moment his eyes met yours, a wave of heat rushed to your face, your heart skipping in your chest. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but it was impossible to ignore the way the memory of that kiss flooded your senses all at once.

He shifted slightly, his hands slipping into his pockets, as if he was just as unsure of how to handle the tension between you. His gaze flickered over your face for just a second longer than it should have, his eyes darkening with something unspoken before he quickly looked away.

You felt the blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks growing warmer by the second. You cleared your throat, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to greet him without giving anything away.

“H-hi, Joel,” you stammered, forcing yourself to look at him, even though your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it. Your fingers fidgeted nervously with the hem of your shirt, desperate to find something—anything—to do with your hands.

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours briefly, and you could see the hesitation there, the same uncertainty you were feeling. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his voice coming out low and gruff, but with a warmth that only made you blush harder.

“hello there,” he said, his tone casual, but the way his eyes softened when he looked at you made your stomach flip.

The awkwardness was palpable, like neither of you knew exactly what to say. You wanted to hide from the intensity of the moment, to avoid the feelings that had been swirling between you since that kiss. Your gaze darted down to your feet, your fingers still twisting the fabric of your shirt nervously.

Your husband’s voice suddenly bellowed from the living room, a loud demand for more beer, pulling both of you out of the charged moment. Joel winced slightly, his brow furrowing in mild annoyance at the sound, but you just gave a small, flustered nod.

“Uh, I’ll get that for him,” you mumbled quickly, stepping aside to let Joel in, your skin tingling with the awareness of how close he was as he brushed past you.

As Joel entered, you couldn’t help but glance at him one last time, your heart racing again when you saw the way his eyes lingered on you for a brief second before he turned toward the living room, where your husband was already half-immersed in the game.

“Thanks,” Joel murmured softly, his voice still gruff but gentle as he moved to sit beside your husband.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You knew tonight was going to be hard—being in the same room as Joel, pretending that nothing had changed. But the way your heart leapt every time you caught his eye made it clear that things were far from normal between you.

The night dragged on painfully, the tension in the room thick and suffocating. Your husband’s drinking had started early, his excitement for the game quickly turning into something darker, something meaner as the alcohol took hold. It wasn’t unusual for him to drink during football, but tonight, it seemed worse than usual. Each beer drained away whatever patience he had left, and you could feel his mood souring with every sip.

“Get me another one,” he grunted, not bothering to look at you as he pointed at the empty bottle on the coffee table.

You moved quickly, not wanting to cause a scene, especially not with Joel sitting there. The last thing you needed was for Joel to witness the full extent of your husband’s irritability. But as you handed him the beer, your husband’s gaze flickered up to you, and his expression turned sour.

“Can’t you just do one damn thing right?” he muttered, snatching the bottle from your hand. His words were slurred but sharp, laced with frustration as if your mere presence irritated him.

Your cheeks flushed with humiliation, the familiar sting of his words settling deep inside you. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you from across the room, but you didn’t dare look at him. The embarrassment was too much. All you wanted was to get through the night, to make it out of this room with what little dignity you had left.

But it only got worse. As the game continued, your husband’s tone grew harsher, his demands more insistent.

“Get me some more chips,” he barked, barely glancing at you. You quickly obliged, fetching the bowl from the kitchen, trying to keep your hands steady as you placed it on the table in front of him.

Joel, always polite, nodded in your direction. “Thanks,” he said softly, his voice warm and sincere. The contrast between Joel’s quiet gratitude and your husband’s increasing belligerence was jarring, and it only made the ache in your chest worse.

As you turned to walk back to the kitchen, you felt it—your husband’s hand coming down hard on your ass, the slap echoing through the room. You froze in place, your entire body going rigid as the sting of his hand sent a wave of humiliation crashing over you.

“Good girl,” he slurred, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re real good at one thing at least, huh?”

The room felt like it was spinning, your face burning with shame. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, to even breathe for a moment. Joel was right there. He had seen it all.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the humiliation overwhelming, crushing. You had endured so much already—his cruelty, his indifference—but this? In front of Joel?

You couldn’t stay in the room any longer. Without a word, you turned and walked quickly toward the stairs, your vision blurring as the tears threatened to spill. You could hear your husband muttering something under his breath, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get away.

As you reached the bathroom, you closed the door behind you and leaned against the sink, gripping the edges tightly as the tears finally came. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to hold it together, but it was no use. The humiliation, the shame—it was all too much.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection blurred by the tears that streamed down your face.

What had happened to you? How had things gotten this bad?

You had spent years trying to hold onto the marriage, trying to make things work, but now it felt like you were nothing more than an afterthought, a servant in your own home. The sting of his hand, the cruel way he had dismissed you—it was unbearable.

You didn’t know how long you had been standing there when you heard a soft knock at the bathroom door.

“Hey… it’s me,” Joel’s voice came from the other side, low and cautious, full of concern.

Your heart tightened in your chest. You weren’t sure if you could face him, not after what had just happened. Not after he had seen the way your husband had treated you. But Joel wasn’t like your husband. He had always been kind, always understanding. He had seen you—truly seen you—when no one else had.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

You hesitated for a moment, wiping at your tear-streaked face as you tried to compose yourself. Then, slowly, you unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to let him in.

Joel stepped inside, his presence filling the small space, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. His eyes softened when he saw your tear-streaked face, his brow furrowing in concern.

“I’m sorry,” Joel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean for things to get like that.”

You shook your head quickly, wiping at your eyes again. “It’s not your fault,” you whispered. “It’s just… this is how it is. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Joel’s expression darkened slightly, but not with anger—just with sadness, frustration at the situation. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush a tear from your cheek, his touch so different from the harshness you had just experienced. His fingers were warm, careful, like he was afraid to push you any further than you were ready for.

“You don’t deserve this,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “You deserve better than the way he treats you.”

His words broke something inside you, and you felt your lip tremble as another sob escaped. You had been holding it in for so long—holding everything in, trying to be strong, trying to make it work. But now, standing here with Joel, it all came crashing down.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I feel so trapped.”

Joel didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, his eyes locked on yours, full of understanding. And then, quietly, he spoke again.

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. Whatever you need… I’m here.”

The warmth in his words, the tenderness in his touch—it was more than you had felt in years. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt seen, felt valued. It stirred something deep inside you, something desperate and raw, a need that had been pushed down for so long.

Before you could even think about it, you lunged toward him, closing the small distance between you and crashing your lips into his. It wasn’t delicate or hesitant—it was a kiss born out of longing, out of months, maybe even years, of being unseen, unheard.

Your hands fisted into his shirt, pulling him closer as your body pressed against his, needing more, needing all of him.

Joel responded immediately, his hands gripping your waist as he kissed you back with a fierceness that matched your own. There was no hesitation in the way his lips moved against yours, no doubt in the way he held you tight.

His hand cupped the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his mouth hungry, demanding.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire, igniting every nerve in your body. His kiss was rough, filled with a desperation that mirrored your own, like he had been holding back for too long and finally, finally, he could let go. The tension between you, all the unspoken words, all the stolen glances—it was exploding now in this moment, and neither of you could stop it.

Your heart raced as your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him under your fingertips. The years of loneliness, of being ignored, melted away with every touch, every kiss. Joel’s hands were everywhere, pulling you closer, pressing you against him as if he was afraid to let go.

He pulled back just slightly, his breath ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick with emotion, his lips still brushing against yours. “God, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

You couldn’t respond with words—you didn’t need to. Instead, you pulled him back into the kiss, your lips crashing together again, more desperate, more urgent. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly as he backed you up against the bathroom wall, pinning you there as he kissed you harder, deeper.

There was no space left between you, no room for doubt or hesitation. Your body responded to his in ways you hadn’t felt in years, every nerve alight with the intensity of it. His hands slid down your sides, rough and possessive, holding you tightly as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You could feel the heat rising between you, the desperation building, as if all the longing, all the frustration had finally found an outlet. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, each touch making your breath hitch, your body arch into his.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice breathless, barely able to get the words out.

But he already knew. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you even closer, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was even more intense, more consuming than before. You were lost in him, lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. Everything else—the hurt, the humiliation, the loneliness—faded away until there was only this moment, only Joel.

This was what you had been missing. This was what you had been longing for. And for the first time in so long, you felt alive.

Joel’s breath was hot against your skin as his lips moved along the curve of your neck, each kiss searing into you, grounding you in this moment, in him. His hands gripped you firmly, possessive yet tender, his touch a reassurance that you were more than what you had been made to feel for so long.

“God, you have no idea,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with need. “You’re everythin’. You deserve so much more than what he gives you. So much more.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body reacting to the intensity in his tone, the sincerity. You could feel the heat between you building, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, kissing along your collarbone, your chest. You were lost in the sensation, the way his hands moved over you, the way his breath ghosted over your skin.

Joel's kisses became more urgent, more fervent, as he slowly knelt before you, his hands sliding down to the waistband of your pants. He paused for a moment, looking up at you with an expression that was both filled with desire and a silent question—a request for permission, for trust.

“Let me worship you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, his hands steady as he began to ease your pants down, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent sparks through you. “I want to show you how much you mean to me. I want you to feel everything.”

The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity as he pulled your pants away, his eyes dark with want as he drank in the sight of you.

Joel stood, lifting you effortlessly in his arms, turning and pressing you gently but firmly against the wall. The coolness of the tile was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off of him, his body holding yours securely, every inch of your weight supported by his strength.

“You’re everythin’,” he murmured again, his lips finding yours in a deep, lingering kiss before trailing down your neck. “You deserve the world. And I’m gonna it to you.”

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted you slightly, his hands gripping your thighs as he held you against the wall. His mouth moved lower, his lips, his tongue, trailing over your stomach, your hips, until he was kneeling before you again, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh.

The sensation of his breath against your skin made your head spin, the anticipation building as his kisses grew slower, more deliberate, inching closer and closer to the center of your need. Every kiss, every touch felt like a promise—a promise that you were cherished, that you were seen.

Joel’s lips trembled against your skin as he kissed down your stomach, rough and hungry, his hands gripping your hips tightly as though he was afraid to let go.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark with desire, and his breath came out hot against your bare thighs as he spread you open for him, his tongue flicking out to tease the edges of your soaked entrance.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he growled, his voice deep and husky. "I've been waitin’ for this, waitin’ to taste this sweet pussy. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about it—about you."

You gasped as he buried his face between your legs, his tongue flat and wide as he dragged it through your folds, groaning like he was savoring every drop.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking hard, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your body. Your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping tightly as your legs trembled, and he groaned again, the vibration making you whimper.

"God, you're perfect," Joel mumbled against you, his voice muffled as he licked you with long, languid strokes. "This cunt is all mine tonight, yeah? You feel that? You hear that? This pussy's mine."

He sucked noisily, deliberately making sure every stroke of his tongue was loud, wet, and filthy. You could hear the lewd slurping sounds as he devoured you, his mouth greedy and desperate as if he’d been starving for this moment.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps, your whole body burning under his relentless attention.

“What if he hears?” you whispered, your voice shaky as your head fell back against the wall. “Joel… what if—”

“He won’t hear shit,” Joel cut you off, his voice rough with possessiveness. “That asshole’s passed out cold on the couch. Even if he could hear, I wouldn’t stop. He doesn’t deserve you. But I do.”

His tongue plunged into you, fucking you with wet, deep strokes, his nose brushing against your swollen clit as he grunted against you. “This pussy tastes so fuckin’ sweet, baby. All I want is to hear you moan for me. Let him fuckin’ hear it.”

You couldn’t help but whimper, your hips bucking against his face as he growled, his tongue thrusting deeper, his lips and chin coated with your arousal. He pulled back for just a second, his breath heavy, his eyes wild as he looked up at you.

"Fuck, I could eat this pussy all night," he murmured, his voice almost a snarl as he gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you even closer. "I want to make you come on my tongue over and over, until you can't stand. You deserve to be worshipped like this. I’m not stoppin’ until you scream my name."

With that, he dove back in, his tongue swirling over your clit as he sucked you harder, his mouth relentless. You moaned louder, your fingers tugging at his hair as your body arched off the wall, pleasure crashing through you with every filthy stroke of his tongue.

He groaned again, louder this time, savoring every moment as he devoured you, his mouth hot and hungry, like he couldn’t get enough.

He alternated between sucking your clit hard, his lips tight around the sensitive bud, and sliding his tongue deep inside you, fucking your pussy with slow, torturous strokes.

Each time you gasped, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher, his hands gripping your thighs so hard it felt like he was staking a claim.

"Yeah, that’s it," he murmured between licks, his voice raw. "I want to hear you scream for me. Let me hear how much you love it when I eat this sweet little cunt."

Your moans grew louder, filling the bathroom as Joel’s tongue worked you harder, faster, his groans matching your own as he lost himself in the taste of you.

His hands slid up your body, gripping your breasts roughly as he continued to feast on you, the pleasure so intense it was overwhelming. You couldn’t stop yourself anymore—every nerve was on fire, your mind blank as you gave in completely to him.

"Joel, fuck, I’m gonna—" you gasped, your thighs trembling as you teetered on the edge of release.

"Cum for me, baby," he growled, his voice hoarse as his tongue flicked over your clit again, harder, faster, relentless. "Cum on my tongue. I want to taste all of it."

With a final, devastating suck on your clit, you shattered. Pleasure slammed into you, your entire body shaking as you screamed his name, your nails digging into his scalp as he held you in place, his mouth still working you through the waves of your orgasm.

Joel didn’t stop—he kept licking, kept sucking, devouring every drop as your body convulsed, the intensity of it making your legs shake.

He moaned against you, his tongue softening slightly but still teasing your swollen clit as you came down, his grip on your hips loosening just enough to let you catch your breath.

When he finally pulled back, his face was slick with your arousal, his eyes dark with lust as he looked up at you, his chest heaving.

"You taste like heaven," he rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction as he stood, pressing his body against yours again, his lips crashing into yours in a bruising kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips, feel the raw, aching desire still burning between you, and you knew this was only the beginning.

“That’s what you deserve,” he whispered, his hands roaming over your body, possessive and loving all at once. “And I’m not done worshippin’ you.”

Joel’s hands moved up your body slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every second his fingers touched your skin. His breath was still ragged, and his lips were barely an inch from yours as he whispered against them, his voice rough but tender.

“If you were my woman, I’d never let you leave the house without makin’ you cum at least twice,” he murmured, his words sending a shiver through you. “And here he is, treatin’ you like garbage. Doesn’t he see? You’re a goddess.”

He paused, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch gentle but insistent as he slowly pulled it up, over your head, tossing it to the side. His eyes darkened with hunger as he gazed at your bare skin, his breath coming out in a heavy exhale as he traced his fingers along the curve of your waist, up to the clasp of your bra.

“You represent everything good in this world,” Joel continued, his voice deepening as his fingers worked to unhook your bra, his eyes locked on yours. “He should feel so damn lucky to have you. How can he not see what he has?”

Your bra fell away, and his eyes dropped to your breasts, the sight of them making him groan deeply, the sound vibrating in his chest. His hands cupped them reverently, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as his lips curled into a smirk.

“These,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, “prove my point exactly.”

Without another word, Joel dipped his head, his lips brushing against one of your nipples before he drew it into his mouth, sucking gently at first, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through your core, your back arching as you gasped, your hands instinctively finding his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned again, his hand kneading your other breast as his mouth worked your nipple with expert precision, sucking harder, his tongue flicking over the sensitive flesh with just the right amount of pressure. Every movement of his mouth, every touch of his hands, felt like he was worshipping you, like you were something precious and sacred.

“I swear,” Joel mumbled against your skin, his lips trailing to your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth with the same intensity.

“If you were mine, I’d worship this body every damn day. You deserve to be treated like the goddess you are, not some afterthought.”

His teeth grazed your nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you, making you whimper as he continued to suck and lick, his hands never leaving your body, constantly exploring, worshipping. It was like he couldn’t get enough of you, his mouth greedy, his hands possessive, but all of it wrapped in the tenderness that made your heart ache.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his breath hot against your skin as he switched between your breasts, lavishing each one with the same amount of attention. “Every part of you is fuckin’ perfect.”

His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you, his erection hard and insistent through his jeans. The friction only added to the heat between you, the tension building with every kiss, every touch. Joel’s lips moved back up to your neck, his breath ragged as he pressed soft kisses along your jawline, his words spilling out between them.

“I could spend all night tastin’ you, touchin’ you,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with raw emotion. “You deserve to feel this good all the time. I’d make sure you never forgot it.”

Your mind was spinning, your body burning under his touch. Every word he spoke, every movement of his mouth, was like gasoline on a fire, and you were completely consumed by him, by the way he made you feel—seen, wanted, worshipped.

Joel’s hands slid back up to your breasts, kneading them as his lips claimed yours in another searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he pressed you harder against the wall, his body radiating heat, his need for you palpable.

“Tell me,” he rasped against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me how much you want this.”

Your breath hitched, your lips parting as his words hung in the air between you. The heat in his eyes, the intensity of his touch—it was overwhelming, and you couldn’t stop yourself from responding.

“I want it so bad, Joel,” you whispered, your voice shaky with need, your body arching into him. “Please… take your clothes off. I need to feel you.”

He groaned at your words, his hands gripping your hips tightly, his erection pressing harder against you.

“Yeah, baby,” he growled, his lips brushing yours, “you need to see a real man. Feel a real cock, not just someone who acts like one. I’ll show you the difference.”

With a swift movement, Joel pulled back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing the broad, muscular chest that you’d only stolen glances at before. His skin glistened with sweat, his muscles flexing as he moved, and the sight of him made your mouth water. Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as you let out a soft moan of appreciation.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you murmured, your voice breathless as your hands wandered lower, desperate to feel every inch of him.

Joel smirked, his hands already working to unbuckle his jeans, his voice dropping to a rough, dirty whisper. “You want this cock, hm? You’ve been starving for it—starving for a man who knows how to take care of you, who knows how to make you cum like you deserve.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as he pushed his jeans and boxers down in one fluid motion, his thick, hard cock springing free, already leaking with precum. It was big—thick and long, veins running down the shaft, the head swollen and glistening.

He gave it a slow stroke, his eyes locked on yours, the sight making your thighs clench with anticipation.

“See this?” he growled, tapping his cock against your thigh, making your breath hitch. “This is what you’ve been missin’. And I’m gonna make sure you never forget what a real man feels like.”

You whimpered in response, your hands reaching out to touch him, to wrap your fingers around his length, but he pulled back slightly, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmured, his voice full of filthy promise. “I want you to feel it everywhere first.”

With that, Joel pressed his cock against your stomach, dragging it slowly across your skin, leaving a slick trail of precum in its wake. You moaned, the sensation driving you wild, your body arching into him as you felt the heat of his shaft sliding over your skin.

“Fuck, you look so good with my cock on you,” he groaned, his hand gripping his length as he slid it up between your breasts, over your chest, your neck, and then back down again. “You want this. You want to feel it inside you, stretchin’ you, fillin’ you up.”

“Yes, Joel, please,” you whimpered, your voice shaking with desperation. “I need it. I need you. I want your cock so bad, I can’t stand it.”

He chuckled darkly, his hand moving to tap the thick head of his cock against your clit, the sudden jolt of pleasure making you cry out.

“You want it here, yeah?” he growled, slapping his cock against your swollen clit again, harder this time, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. “You want to feel me inside this tight little pussy, fuckin’ you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Oh, God, yes,” you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body trembled with need. “Fuck me, Joel. I want to feel every inch of you. I want you to ruin me.”

His eyes flashed with pure desire as he tapped his cock against your clit again, the wet head of his cock throbbing as more precum leaked out, mixing with your own arousal.

He dragged his length through your folds, coating himself in your slickness, groaning as he teased you.

“I’m gonna make you scream for me,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’ll never even think about another man again. You’ll be mine, baby. This pussy will be mine.”

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, making you ache for him. Every word he spoke, every filthy promise he made, sent another wave of heat crashing through you, your body desperate for the release only he could give.

“Say it,” Joel demanded, his voice rough as he slid just the tip inside you, stretching you ever so slightly. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Joel,” you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders tighter as you felt him start to push inside you. “I’m yours. Please, fuck me. Make me yours.”

With a deep, guttural groan, Joel thrust into you, his cock stretching you wide, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching into his as he buried himself deep inside you, his hands gripping your hips as he held you in place.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice strained as he began to move, his cock sliding in and out of you in slow, deliberate strokes. “This pussy is mine now, baby. And I’m gonna make you cum so hard, you’ll forget anyone else ever existed.”

Joel’s thrusts were deep and deliberate, each one sending a shockwave of pleasure through your entire body. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises, but the delicious pressure only intensified the raw need coursing between you. His cock filled you so completely, stretching you to the point where you could barely think straight, only able to feel him.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Joel groaned, his voice rough with lust as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you with a force that made you gasp.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, mixing with your ragged moans and the wet, lewd sounds of your pussy taking every inch of him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, his voice low and rough as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “This is what you’d get with me all the time. Not that half-assed bullshit you’ve been settlin for. You’d get this—my cock fillin’ you up, my hands on your body, making you cum until you can’t even fuckin stand.”

He punctuated his words with rough, powerful thrusts, his cock driving deeper into you with each one. Your head fell back against the wall, your legs trembling as he held you up, completely at his mercy.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear as his hips snapped into you again and again. “You deserve this, you deserve to be fucked like this every day. Not treated like you’re worthless.”

Joel’s mouth was everywhere—his lips moving over your neck, nipping at your skin before kissing and licking at the sensitive spot just below your ear.

His tongue flicked out, tasting the salt of your skin, and you moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he fucked you harder, his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside you.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, his voice thick with praise and hunger. “My perfect little good girl.”

He kissed down your neck, his lips trailing lower until he found your breasts again, groaning as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. The sensation of his mouth on your sensitive skin, combined with the relentless pace of his hips, had you gasping, your body on the verge of breaking apart with pleasure.

“Fuck, ’could suck these tits all day,” Joel murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing your nipple as he switched to the other breast, sucking and licking, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he fucked you harder.

“So fuckin’ beautiful. You’d get this all the time with me, baby. You’re my good girl, hm?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher, your nipples aching under his relentless attention. “I’m your good girl. Please, don’t stop.”

Joel growled, a deep, primal sound that sent a shiver down your spine as he kissed his way back up to your mouth, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss.

His tongue invaded your mouth, hungry and demanding, as he continued to pound into you, each thrust harder than the last, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You whimpered beneath him, your nails digging into his back as he pounded into you, his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming you, and you could barely form coherent words. All you could do was moan his name, begging for more.

“That’s my good girl,” Joel rasped, his lips trailing down your neck as his hips snapped harder, faster. “You love this, baby? You love havin’ my cock so deep inside you, fuckin’ you the way you deserve. Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you need it.”

“I need it,” you gasped, your voice barely a whisper as your head fell back against the wall, your body trembling with pleasure.

“I need you so bad, Joel. I need your cock. I need you to fuck me harder. I love it. Please, Joel, don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop,” he growled, his hands sliding up your body, cupping your breasts again as he continued to thrust into you, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“I’ll never stop. You’ll never go a day without feelin’ this. Without knowing how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

His lips moved across your face, kissing your cheeks, your jaw, before finding your neck again, sucking and biting at your skin as he pounded into you. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pushed you closer to the brink of release.

His tongue claimed your mouth with the same intensity as his cock claimed your pussy, his hands still worshipping your body as if he couldn’t stop touching you.

“You feel so good,” he growled against your lips, his breath ragged as his hips continued to slam into you.

“This is what I’d do every single day if you were mine. I’d wake you up with my tongue on this perfect pussy, make you cum before breakfast, fuck you until you can’t even think straight.”

You moaned loudly, your body arching into his as his filthy words made your head spin, the pleasure building inside you with every thrust of his cock.

His hand slid down your body, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in tight circles as he fucked you, his touch sending sparks through your veins.

“I’m gonna make you cum, babygirl,” Joel whispered, his voice thick with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue dominating yours. “I want you to cum all over my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you love it.”

You whimpered, your body trembling as the pleasure mounted, your mind going blank as Joel’s cock slammed into you harder, deeper. His hand on your clit, his mouth on your neck, his body pressed tightly against yours—it was too much, and you felt yourself spiraling toward release.

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough as he felt you tighten around him. “Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

With a final, devastating thrust, the coil inside you snapped, and you screamed his name as your orgasm tore through you, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him as he groaned deeply, his hips never stopping, prolonging your pleasure as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Joel’s hips slowed, but his thrusts remained deep and deliberate, his cock throbbing inside you, the heat of him radiating against your skin. His breath came in hot, ragged bursts against your neck as his hands roamed possessively over your body, caressing every inch of your trembling form.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with need as his hips ground deeper, each thrust making your body arch against him. “You’re fuckin’ perfect. My good girl.”

His words sent another jolt of desire through you, your body still sensitive from your orgasm, but you could feel his need, the tension in his body as he held back. His cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was close—so close.

Joel’s pace slowed slightly, his cock throbbing deep inside you as he hovered over you, his breath hot and heavy against your ear. His hand slid down your side, possessive, as if every inch of your body belonged to him now. He kissed along your jawline, his voice husky, thick with lust and something deeper.

“Where do you want me to cum, baby?” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his cock still twitching inside you.

“Tell me where you want it. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

You felt a rush of heat, your body trembling with the intensity of the moment. Your voice came out shaky, but full of want as you gasped, “Inside, Joel. Please cum inside me.”

A guttural groan escaped his throat, his eyes darkening as he stared at you, the words hitting him like a spark to gasoline.

"God, I’ve been dreamin’ of hearing you say that," he growled, his hips bucking forward again, harder this time. "Pumpin’ you full of my seed. Fuck… the thought of you pregnant with my child?"

“The thought of you, round and swollen with my baby—fuck, sometimes I just cum from imaginin’ it,” he growled, his voice growing more desperate as his thrusts quickened, his cock hitting deep inside you with every movement.

“You’d be so beautiful, so perfect. And you’d be mine—all mine.”

His words sent a shock of pleasure straight through you, the intensity of his dirty talk igniting every nerve in your body. Joel’s hands gripped your hips harder as he thrust deeper, his cock filling you completely with each powerful stroke. His voice was raw, full of desperate hunger as he whispered in your ear.

“Imagine it,” he rasped, his breath hot against your neck, his cock pounding into you relentlessly.

“You, swollen with my baby. I’d make you cum again and again while my child grows inside you. I’d take care of you, worship you… make you feel like the goddess you are.”

The filthy images he painted, combined with the overwhelming sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy, made your body tremble, your mind reeling with the intensity of it. Your fingers dug into his back as your moans grew louder, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

His pace grew faster, more frantic as he chased his release, the idea of you full of his cum, of you carrying his child, driving him wild. You could feel him getting closer, his grip on your hips tightening as his cock swelled inside you, his thrusts becoming erratic.

“You’d be such a good mother,” he groaned, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, baby. I’m gonna cum so deep inside you. I’m gonna make sure every drop stays inside. ’ gonna be so full of my cum.”

You were lost in him, lost in the way his body felt against yours, the way his words wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into the pleasure.

“Yes, Joel,” you gasped, your voice shaky as your body trembled with anticipation. “Please, cum inside me. I want it so bad.”

“Take it, baby. Take all of it. I’m fillin’ you up. God, you feel so fucking good.”

With a deep, primal growl, Joel’s hips slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside as he came with a force that made his whole body shudder.

He held you tightly, his breath ragged as he groaned your name, his cum spilling inside you, filling you completely.

You could feel every twitch, every hot pulse of his release, the sensation sending you over the edge again, your body convulsing as a second wave of pleasure crashed through you.

His body shook with the force of his release, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants as he held you tightly, his cock twitching inside you as he emptied himself.

He stayed like that for a moment, his body pressed tightly against yours, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he caught his breath. His cock still twitched inside you, his cum warm and thick as it filled you completely. His hands caressed your sides, his touch tender and loving despite the roughness of what had just happened.

Joel’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he buried his face in your neck, still trembling with the aftermath of his orgasm. “Fuck… you’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice soft but full of emotion. “’ everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His cock still twitched inside you, the warmth of his cum spreading through your core as he slowly pulled back, pressing soft kisses along your neck, your shoulders.

Joel's breathing was still heavy, his chest pressed against yours as he held you tightly, his cock still buried inside you. He kissed your neck softly, murmuring between deep breaths.

“I’ve been waitin’ for this,” he rasped, his voice low and raw. “You have no idea how long I’ve been savin’ this for you, baby. No one else could ever do it for me. You’re the only one… the only woman I want. I’m full of it, every drop of cum was meant for you.”

His words were tender but possessive, the weight of what he was saying wrapping around you. His hand slid up your side gently, still exploring, as though he couldn’t get enough of touching you. His lips brushed your ear, and his voice took on a pleading tone.

“Please, baby,” he whispered softly, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Leave him. You deserve more. You deserve to be worshipped, loved, the way I’ll love you every single day. You’re mine now. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart pound at the weight of his words, your body still trembling from the intensity of the moment.

As the intensity of the moment began to fade, the weight of Joel's words hung in the air between you. You felt the warmth of his body still pressed against yours, his breath steadying as he held you close, but now, the frantic passion had simmered into something deeper. Something certain.

For the first time in what felt like forever, clarity washed over you. Joel had peeled back all the layers of doubt, of shame, of loneliness, and left you with the undeniable truth—you deserved this. You deserved more.

You shifted slightly in his arms, and he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was soft, no longer driven by raw desire, but by something far more profound. There was a silent question there, one he didn’t have to ask out loud. He had already said it all.

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. You didn’t need to say anything right now. You didn’t need to make promises or decisions this second. But for the first time, you knew. You knew what you wanted, who you wanted.

And Joel knew it too.

“I’ll wait for you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple, the tenderness of the moment grounding you both. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded, feeling lighter than you had in years. You weren’t just his now—you were finally yours.

As the room grew quiet, the weight of your choices settled in, but it wasn’t daunting anymore. It felt like freedom. Like the start of something new.

The beginning of everything you’d been missing.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

[xxinkys-ocsxx]

"I'm normal about that character"

*proceeds to think about nothing but that character for much longer then a normal person should*

[sennamybeloved]

⛧ SELFSHIPTOBER 2024 ⛧

HELLO ALL! welcome to another year of selfshiptober. i've noticed this is pretty much the 'official' selfship tober event now, which honestly warms my heart! i love seeing what this wonderful community does with my prompts :)

this year, i'm doing things a little differently. EACH DAY HAS TWO PROMPTS ASSIGNED TO IT. the first set is SHIPPY, while the second set is SPOOKY. you may either COMBINE THE TWO PROMPTS TOGETHER or CHOOSE ONE OF THE PROMPTS. the spooky prompts are a bit on the grittier side and probably won't appeal to most, so if you'd like to only use the first set of prompts and completely ignore the second, be my guest! on the other hand, if you prefer the gritter prompts, you can only use the second set of prompts, you can do that too! if you want an extra challenge, you can create a piece that incorporates both of the day's prompts. you can also change your approach depending on how you feel that day!

there are no hard rules for this. YOU CAN START WORKING ON THIS CHALLENGE EARLY, but i encourage you to wait until october to post anything. YOU CAN ALSO CONTINUING WORKING ON IT AFTER OCTOBER ENDS! you can drag this shit out into december for all i care. just DON'T OVERWORK YOURSELF PLEASE.

without further ado, LET US PROCEED TO THE PROMPTS!

#1. confession  |  night.

#2. blanket  |  flame.

#3. embrace  |  blood.

#4. apple picking  |  fog.

#5. all dressed up  |  blade.

#6. carnival  |  haunted.

#7. rain  |  infection.

#8. swim  |  terror.

#9. music  |  masquerade.

#10. warmth  |  claws.

#11. comfort  |  recovery.

#12. married  |  ritual.

#13. party  |  magic.

#14. date night  |  vampire.

#15. games  |  hunt.

#16. candy  |  illusion.

#17. heart  |  feast.

#18. pining  |  violent.

#19. shared hobby  |  potion.

#20. trust  |  experiment.

#21. snuggle  |  nightmare.

#22. kiss  |  scars.

#23. movie night  |  slasher.

#24. baking  |  empty.

#25. rest  |  bandages.

#26. beautiful  |  grotesque.

#27. decorations  |  cemetery.

#28. brush  |  forest.

#29. pumpkin  |  lantern.

#30. flowers  |  snow.

#31. halloween  |  death.

TAG YOUR CREATIONS AS #SELFSHIPTOBER 2024 AND TAG ME IF YOU'D LIKE ME TO SEE! i cannot guarantee interaction as i struggle socially, but i promise i'll look at everything! HAPPY CREATING ♡

[dreamwinged]

anyway

[nonbatnary]

f slur

[wickedsnack-art]

Luring you here gave me the chance to save you… At least for now.

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 | Jonathan Crane

NOTES -> Hello hello! im gonna be in uni full time again starting first week of september so uploads will be much slowerrrr im sorry. I’ll try to write as much as i can for u my little loves!

REQUEST -> Based off the prompt 15 from this list here

SUMMARY -> Your boss, Jonathan Crane, plans on isolating you away from your old life, consuming you whole until you become nothing but devoted to him...and you're too naive to see the mind games that the expert psychiatrist is playing.

WORD COUNT -> 3.3k

WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, soft!dark Jonathan, doctor/nurse relationship, boss/employee relationship, creampie

MASTERLIST

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he narrowed his blue eyes behind his glasses. His focus was locked on you and only you, along with the orderly speaking to you for the last few minutes.

You were a nurse at Arkham, young and bright-eyed, so full of energy — and that caught Jonathan’s attention. Your unusually cheerful demeanour and sweet aura drew him in, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was how you’d always give him a cute little wave every time he’d pass by you, or maybe it was how you’d smile at him when everyone else seemed to cower away from the stoic doctor. 

Or maybe it was because once he saw you leaving work in your everyday clothes instead of your usual scrubs, and when you seemingly bent over to pick up your keys which you dropped on the ground, he could see the lace of your pink panties poking out of your low-rise sweatpants — but I guess we’ll never know. 

See, that was the problem. You were so sweet, but you were like that with everyone you worked with; which made Jonathan feel inferior in many ways, but he promised himself that he’d have you eventually.

He didn’t want to hurt you by any means — oh god, no. He’d rather torture himself than watch you suffer through any anguish. However, he did want everyone around you to fall victim to a rather sinister fate if it meant they stayed away from you. 

Jonathan didn’t really consider himself a sadist, but watching those around you seemingly go missing and suddenly quit their jobs at Arkham (unwillingly, of course), derived an innate sense of pleasure within him. 

That was one of the perks of being the chief psychiatrist — he had all the power in the world to do whatever he pleased within the walls of Arkham, no matter who he hurt in the process. Jonathan would quietly fire many employees who he felt were “too friendly” with you, but he’d always tell you that they’d mysteriously quit or that they had changed jobs. 

“Perhaps they just didn’t have it in them to help the…unique patients we house here,” he’d say to you. “Not everyone is as dedicated and as kind as you are, you know?” 

Foolishly, you let his flattery get into your head; you let yourself fall for him without even realizing it.

You believed that the universe divinely guided you to him. You were sure of it — he was just so kind and understanding. You couldn’t believe the other staff of Arkham didn’t see him the way you did! How could they dislike him? Fear him? 

To Jonathan, you were like an angel that fell from above, capturing his cold, dead heart within your warm, beating, and very alive one. You were so kind to the patients, so gentle with them — and your patients only ever had good things to say about you. 

As you spoke to the orderly in front of you about what you did over the weekend, you noticed your boss looking rather tense from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, and his expression unforgiving. He exhaled sharply before ushering you over toward him, causing you to excuse yourself from your current conversation. 

“Doctor Crane,” you greeted sweetly, “how are you?”

“I’m rather stressed today,” he answered softly, taking on that same gentle tone that he always seemed to take with you. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine, but I'm worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to the side slightly as if to emphasize your confusion. 

“I think perhaps we should speak in my office about this,” he offered. “Come with me, please.” 

Your smile suddenly faltered slightly as anxiety and paranoia ran rampant through your veins.

Your paranoid thoughts had to be put on the back burner as you took a seat across from him in his office, watching him as he sat down at his desk. His suit was pristine as always — and today, he opted for a brown sweater vest underneath it.

You’d count every thread and stitch on his suit for him if he asked you to. 

“Doctor Crane—”

“Just Jonathan is fine,” he interrupted before clearing his throat. “I wanted to speak to you in private about a certain concern of mine.” 

“What is it?”

He sighed before he took off his glasses and meticulously placed them on his desk. He leaned forward slightly, and you stayed quiet as he hesitated for a moment before his smooth voice finally cut through the silence in his office between the two of you. 

“I’m worried that you may be overworking yourself,” he explained, looking at you with his tantalizing eyes. “I notice you pick up shifts and work overtime frequently, and I worry that you may be taking on more than you can handle. As your boss, I just want to make sure that you’re not burning yourself out as that can’t be good for you, and I believe in a healthy work-life balance.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, unsure as to what you could say to him — that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say to you. Perhaps you had been overworking yourself, but that was just a part of you. Having a strong work ethic was something you strongly believed in, but maybe he was right. You couldn’t care for your patients if you were too exhausted to, right? 

Now that he mentioned it, you were quite tired today. You started to think about it — as of recently, you’d been slamming coffees left right and center to stay awake at work, hadn’t you? You just wanted to help out since you were fairly new around here, but maybe it was doing you more damage than good.

Jonathan saw your usually cheerful demeanour deflate in his office, and he looked at you sympathetically, “I know this is not something you’d want to hear, especially from your boss of all people — but I just want to ensure that all my staff are doing well, you know?”

You bit your lip for a mere second, hesitating to speak before you let the words fall from your lips, “You know, Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person here who actually…cares about me.” 

He internally applauded himself — in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out comfort in him. Just like he had planned. Just like he wanted.

“I think you’re an exceptional nurse,” he mused, “and truthfully, I do enjoy working alongside you. So yes, of course, I care about you. I remember when I first started working after finishing my residency, I would exhaust myself constantly. I’ve learned through many years that it’s just not good for you.” 

Jonathan’s plan was being executed perfectly — he wanted to isolate you. He wanted you to come running into his arms, far away from everyone else around you. He was on his worst behaviour today, but he believed you brought out the best in him. 

You weren’t overworking yourself, but with Jonathan’s quick wit, years of training in psychology, and exceptional gaslighting skills, you thought perhaps he was right. Maybe you should take some time off of work, you thought.

“Tell you what,” he said softly, “how about you and I have drinks tonight instead? Forget about work and such. I think you need it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up. He was your boss, and this was way out of line for a boss to ask an employee. However, it didn’t help that you were very attracted to him.

“Drinks?”

“My place at eight. I have a bottle of cabernet I think you’d enjoy — If I remember correctly, you said it was your favourite?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “It is.” 

“So I'll see you tonight at eight, then,” he smiled softly, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “I’ll text you my address.” 

You nodded, slightly starstruck. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once you’d parked your car on the side of the neighbourhood street, you stepped out into the chilly night, your high heels clicking against the pavement of the ground loudly as you made your way onto his porch.

You gave three soft raps to his front door before you heard shuffling coming from inside the house. After a few moments, the front door swung open gently, and Jonathan stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Come inside,” he ushered you, “make yourself at home, darling.”

And so you did. 

You two talked over a few glasses of cabernet, bringing up the topic of work a few times here and there, but he mostly attempted to get to know the real you. What you did in your spare time, what your hobbies were, if you were seeing anyone…

“Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?” Jonathan asked you casually, but his voice dropped an octave as he looked directly at you, resting his hand on your thigh rather boldly. “I’m asking because I've seen the way you look at me…” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, your cheeks feeling warmer and warmer by the second with the way his hand was now resting on your leg. You couldn’t deny it now. “I didn’t mean…um, I just — you’re always so kind to me…and I–”

He shushed you softly, creeping his hand up a little further. “I’m quite flattered, darling. Not to worry,” he purred. “I figured it wouldn’t be very appropriate of me to tell you how hard it is for me to not look at you when you’re at work, but after today, I just don’t think I can help myself anymore…” 

Suddenly, his lips brushed up against yours, and as if it was instinct, your hands came to wrap around his shoulders. He let you pull him in even closer, his hands now coming to rest on your hips as you two kissed feverishly on his couch.

You and him were like a chemical reaction — explosive, unpredictable, and potentially fatal.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his hold on your hips tightened slightly, his words causing your brain to short-circuit for a moment before you could think clearly again. 

“Jonathan, I–”

“Don’t speak, just give into it, my darling.”

You let yourself get lost in the constellation that was Jonathan Crane, letting him run his hands all over your body and kiss you with an insatiable hunger. Soft moans left your mouth as he peppered kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the delicate skin gently. 

You would’ve been worried about him leaving marks because you wouldn’t want your boss to see the next day at work — but you had to remind yourself that he was your boss. 

But none of that mattered when it felt so right; when his lips felt so good against your skin.

“Can I take this off?” he rasped, toying with the strap of your dress. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Please, Jonathan…”

Slowly, he took the dress off of your body, gently tossing the garment to the side as he looked at you in absolute awe. It was like looking at a priceless piece of art in a museum exhibit to him — nothing could compare. Even a picture wouldn’t do the sight in front of him justice. 

“Should we go upstairs?” you suddenly asked. 

Maybe it was the handful of wine you’d shared that evening, or maybe it was just sheer arousal; you weren’t sure which one, but all you knew was that you needed him to have his way with you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “Just up the stairs to the left — I think I'll let you lead the way, darling…”

The two of you got up from the couch, hand in hand, and Jonathan’s eyes roamed your body from behind as you made your way up the stairs together. 

Of course, you came prepared — you know, just in case things were to happen. Before you left, you threw on your sexiest, laciest, lingerie underneath your dress, and it was a good thing you did because that investment certainly paid off.

He watched your hips sway in your lingerie, along with the heels you were still wearing (because we simply can’t forget about those), and he could feel his cock straining against his pants. “Pretty girl,” he mumbled from behind you. “Your body is heavenly.” 

“Shush,” you giggled, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him close once you reached the bedroom. 

He looked down at you in the dim lighting of his bedroom, noticing the way your skin was glowing under it. Your hair was slightly messy from making out on the couch earlier, and you had a small smile tugging at your lips — you were perfection if he’d ever seen it. 

Jonathan kissed you rougher this time, his hands finding their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently against your scalp. He backed you up onto the bed, pushing you down onto it as he undid his tie, looming over your delicate body which was sprawled out on his king-sized bed. 

After taking his tie off, he threw off his suit jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. You hummed softly, running your heel against his leg as he rushed to get himself out of his clothes. The tent in his pants made it all the more obvious how desperate he truly was for you, but you stayed patient. 

Once he was on the bed with you, he helped you out of your bra and panties, causing your cheeks to heat up from how exposed you felt. “You’re cute when you blush,” he commented when he noticed your blush, making you all the more flustered while he undid his belt. 

After freeing himself, his thick, veiny cock caught your attention, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was big — you weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit, but right now you were so wet, you were almost certain your walls would stretch out around him with ease. 

He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, giving himself a few strokes before looking at you with his lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

Your back was arched and you let out a filthy moan as he slid himself into your warm, sticky cunt with little resistance. The sheer size of him alone had you feeling so full, and he stilled as he bottomed out in you so that you could adjust to him. “Tell me when,” he said softly, his hand coming to brush up against your hips softly. 

“You can move now,” you breathlessly said, giving him the green light. Your breath got caught in your throat as he started to set a gentle but deep pace, the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust. 

“O-oh–” you moaned.

His hands found purchase on your hips, and his eyes trailed over your face as he fucked you sensually, but slowly, eventually going harder and faster as you got accumulated to him. “So fucking tight, Jesus—” he choked out. You’d never heard him curse before, and his smooth voice had you clenching around him, to which he let out another moan. “Fuck, darling — you feel so good.” 

“Mm-hmm!” you squeaked, taking his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked cunt with every stroke. “Jonathan, fuck—!”

“Right there, darling?” he cooed softly, slamming his cock into your hole much rougher now, causing you to see stars as he stretched you open on his thickness. “Feels good, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes — oh my god!” you chanted, grabbing onto his biceps as you felt his fat cock drilling you. You were letting out feverish moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you became increasingly more cock-drunk by the minute. 

Your moans were like music to Jonathan. Like the sound he would hear being played once he died and went to heaven — because to him, this was heaven. You’d come running into the arms of the man who was slowly isolating you, breaking you; cornering you into his heart. 

But there’s always something so right about something so inherently wrong, isn’t there? 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he groaned, watching you with furrowed brows as he concentrated on your pleasure. “Are you close, darling? Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered breathlessly, moans being forced out of you with every delicious thrust he gave your cunt. “Gonna– oh, I’m gonna cum!” 

Jonathan watched in a mixture of pure bliss, awe, and satisfaction as you fell apart in his very hands. Yes — this is where he wanted you. He just wanted to love you, to show you how perfect he was for you, to take care of you and make you see that everyone else around you was just a waste of time. 

No more talking to orderlies who’d flirt with you, no more going out for after-work drinks with the other nurses. No, none of that. He was going to make sure that you’d work under him only, figuratively and literally.

“Gon’ cum,” he groaned, feeling his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm, tight hole as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, not bothering to pull out. Your mind went blank as he filled you up wholly, stuffing you with his sticky, warm seed as you lay there fucked out from what just happened moments prior. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?”

You looked up at him groggily, mind still foggy from your orgasm. “What? I work tomorrow–”

“Take a paid day off,” he shrugged, pulling his softening cock out from your worn-out hole. “Use as many as you’d like darling, I won’t tell.” 

His teasing words caused you to throw your head back into the pillows blissfully with a sigh, genuinely believing that he only had your best interest at heart — he just didn’t want you to overwork yourself. It’s not like he was planning on totally locking you away from every living being in Gotham besides him or anything…

“I feel bad though,” you murmured sleepily. “I feel like I’m – I dunno – abusing my privileges.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty girl,” Jonathan assured you softly, turning off the lights so that only the moonlight was dimly shining into his bedroom. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled the covers over you both, cradling you in his arms like you were made of fine china. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“You’re so lovely, Jon. You truly have such a kind soul.” 

“Surely nothing compared to yours, my darling,” he whispered against your hair as you closed your eyes. “Now, get some rest. We can talk about moving your things in here in the morning…”

Unfortunately, you had already dozed off in his embrace; too busy being washed away by sleep to hear his words. Jonathan smiled to himself — he’d never let you go now. You’d lost all control the moment you stepped into his house, unknowingly making yourself a hostage of some sort.  

In the end, as you clung to him, believing he was the saviour from your exhaustion, you failed to see that it was his “love” that had slowly consumed you whole, leaving you nothing but a hollow shell, devoured by the very hands that promised refuge.

Sometimes, the most dangerous traps are the ones we walk into willingly, thinking they’re the key to our freedom, as they say. But the cruel irony of it all is that we think we’re being saved from the jaws of this terrible world, only to be eaten alive by those who we call our saviours. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Taglist -> @girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[ryuzakemo128]

Call Of Duty Headcanons Part 2

Content Warning: Dark themes. Mature Themes. Trauma. Violence.

Potential triggers: Violence, themes of war, trauma, and implied child neglect/abuse (due to the mention of a turbulent household).

If any of those things bother you. I suggest you click off this as soon as possible. Only you, and you alone, are responsible for the intake of media, with that being said. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Headcanons on Oksana's Appearance.

Masterlist / dividers / Credit (Dividers)

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part 3]

Things both twins have in common

(One) Both twins are the height of six feet and six inches tall, towering over most men and women like giants.

(Two) They both have the same striking eye colour, Icy Blue with a dark charcoal lining the edges of the iris.

(Three) Both sisters are incredibly fit and athletic, with lean muscle mass and defined features. Their years of rigorous training have sculpted their bodies into peak physical condition.

(Four) They share striking Slavic features, with high cheekbones, strong jawlines, and full lips. Their fair skin often carries a slight rosy tint, even in colder climates.

(Five) Their hair is naturally the darkest shade of black, often described as raven-black. Thick, lustrous and curly, cascading past their shoulders in a mass of curls which make a contrast in tone against their pale complexion. Often kept in tight braids or buns during missions for practicality. When they are down, they frame their faces dramatically, adding an air of mystery and allure.

(Six) Oksana's eyes often hold a colder, more calculated glint, like a feral feline trapped in a perpetual corner due to trauma and years of survival. Her features, while undeniably beautiful, carry a hint of hardness, a subtle tension around her mouth and eyes that speaks of a life lived on the edge. In contrast, Katya's eyes hold a warmth and compassion, a softness that draws people in. Her smile is genuine and infectious, and her features exude a natural grace and elegance.

(Seven) Both twins are ambidextrous, able to use both hands with equal proficiency.

Oksana's Physical Appearance Headcanons

These headcanons are going to outline parts that make her look different from her twin, Katya. I will have Katya's version in part three.

(One) Unlike her twin, she has scars on her back from her father and later on, their stepfather from being whipped. It would have been her younger sister, had she not stepped in time and time again to take the blame for the things she supposedly had done wrong, in accordance with either one of them. She didn’t trust either one of them. Ever. She never spoke about how much it hurt whenever it happened. As she didn’t want to give either one of them the satisfaction of seeing her break for either one of them.

(Two) Scars on her left leg from having her shin mauled by a dog when she was seven years old. Giving her an intense phobia of dogs afterwards. Something she never quite got over, even with therapy. Pictures of dogs and the word dog doesn’t scare her as much as it once did before. They do unsettle her to various degrees depending on her mood.

(Three) Each tattoo on her left arm has a special significance to her. Cthulhu, the cosmic entity, represents the unknown and the mysteries of the universe, symbolising her fascination with the enigmatic and unexplored.

Nyarlathotep, the crawling chaos, represents her ability to adapt and manoeuvre through unpredictable situations with ease.

Azathoth, the blind idiot god, represents the chaos and unpredictability of war and serves as a reminder of the ever-changing nature of combat.

Ammutseba, Devourer of Stars, represents her understanding of the destructive power of war and the need to face the consequences of her actions.

Xirdneth, Maker of Illusions, Lord of Unreality, represents her ability to deceive and outsmart her enemies through cunning tactics and strategies

(Four) On her right arm she has more lovecraftian cosmic horror entities tattooed into her skin.

Yog-Sothoth, the Gate of All Ways. Representing her ability to navigate through different environments and adapt to any situation. This tattoo symbolizes her versatility and resourcefulness as a soldier.

Shub-Niggurath, the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young. Symbolising her protective instincts and her fierce loyalty to her team. This tattoo represents her nurturing side, which is often hidden beneath her tough exterior.

(Five) She has a tattoo of an octopus on her lower back, symbolising her ability to handle multiple situations at once and her adeptness at adapting to new environments. It’s something she’s had since before her military career and is a part of her that she’s always been proud of.

(Six) Prefers to wear black turtlenecks through winter, summer, autumn and spring. The entire year because she would prefer the safety of covering up the scars on her body than to deal with people's prying questions. Her outfits are mostly utilitarian and comfortable. She has a penchant for combat boots and cargo pants.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Eddie loves morning sex. The kind of groggy, sloppy sex that comes with being half asleep. Both eyes closed, in an out of the dream realm. Sensation, the only thing in the room. No thoughts behind actions other than wanting to feel each other.

It starts with innocent shifting. Hands pulling and repositioning. His morning wood brushing up against your thigh in a way that feels so delicious to his sleep-addled mind. Hands go from pulling and shifting to grabbing and holding. He has handfuls of you and now he's grinding lazily against your core. Your hands are moving too because he's squeezing and moaning and he’s so hot in all the right places.

Before you know it, he’s pressing into you and you are so wet and ready for him. It doesn’t take long until he’s coming undone. His face hiding in your neck as he huffs and bucks against you at an uneven pace. His tip grinding against your insides and dragging you closer to release with every thrust. His thumb lazily circling your clit. Speeding up with his own stuttered movements as he hurdles towards climax. His hips stammering as he tries desperately to get you there before him but he’s sleepy and he's losing the battle.

A long, lazy moan emanates from somewhere deep inside your gut as you reach your peak. Floating along the rolling waves of pleasure and feeling Eddie falter.

He lets out a low groan that vibrates against your collarbone as he cums hard, burying himself to the hilt and trembling through his release. Your body milking him of every drop.

You're both still. Bodies humming with post sex hormones that help you drift back off to sleep. Waking up a few hours later after the best nap of your lives and wondering if it actually happened or if it was all a dream.

[mssalo]

access

You and your husband, Joel, share a deep understanding - your body is his, to fuck and taste whenever he desires, without question or hesitation.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, free use dynamics, oral (f receiving), somnophilia (woken with head), getting fucked awake, rough possessive sex, Intense dirty talk, breeding kink, light choking and nipple play, cum play

5k, smut, one shot

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the first rays of early morning sunlight slipping through the cracks in the curtains. Everything was still, the kind of quiet that comes just before the world begins to stir.

The air was warm, thick with a sense of calm, and the only sound breaking that silence was the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you lay beside him, deeply asleep. You looked peaceful, the blankets tangled loosely around your legs, your hair spilling across the pillow.

You were completely unaware of the storm building beside you.

Joel lay next to you, half-propped on one elbow, his gaze fixed on your body. The soft rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the curve of your hips barely hidden beneath the sheets, the way your lips parted ever so slightly as you exhaled—all of it stirred a deep, familiar hunger in him. His eyes moved over you slowly, tracing every line, every curve, like he was memorizing the sight of you, though he had done it countless times before.

His cock was already hard, pressing insistently against the fabric of his boxers, the ache intensifying with every second he spent watching you. The urge to reach out and touch you, to feel your warmth beneath his fingers, was overwhelming. He wanted you, needed you, in that primal, all-consuming way that had woken him up in the first place.

You were beautiful—peaceful, serene, utterly unaware of the effect you had on him. But the heat building in his belly, the tightness in his groin, was becoming too much to ignore. His desire for you had grown with every second, and the free use pact you shared meant that he didn’t need to hold back. You were his to take whenever the need struck, and right now, that need was impossible to resist.

His hand hovered just above the sheets for a moment, hesitating only long enough to savor the anticipation. Then, slowly, he let his fingers brush lightly over the curve of your hip, the warmth of your skin seeping through the thin fabric of your sleepwear. His touch was featherlight at first, testing, waiting to see if you stirred. But you remained blissfully asleep, your body soft and pliant under his hand.

He grinned to himself, the heat inside him intensifying. His fingers traced a slow path down the length of your thigh, parting your legs ever so slightly, making space for him to take what was already his.

You shifted slightly, a soft murmur escaping your lips as his hand crept higher, brushing against your soft pussy. He groaned quietly, his breath hitching at the contact, his fingers exploring further. He could already feel the wetness gathering there, your body responding to him even in your sleep, and it sent a shiver of anticipation through him.

The room was still quiet, bathed in that soft morning glow, but the tension was palpable. Joel’s body was tense with desire, every nerve alive with the need to take you, to feel you, to bury himself deep inside you. And with the way you lay there, so peaceful, so completely his, there was no reason to wait any longer. You were his, and this morning, he was going to claim you all over again.

Without making a sound, he moved down the bed, the covers slipping away as he positioned himself between your legs. His eyes lingered on the way your thighs pressed together, how peaceful you looked in your half-awake state, blissfully unaware of what he had planned for you. He could already feel his cock twitch in anticipation.

Slowly, gently, he eased your legs apart, his hands warm against your skin as he spread you open, revealing the soft folds of your pussy glistening faintly in the dim light.

He didn’t rush, savoring the moment, his lips hovering just above your heat, close enough to feel the warmth of you but not touching yet. His breath ghosted over your skin, and you stirred lightly, but you didn’t wake, your body still pliant under his hands.

He grinned to himself, eyes dark with lust as he lowered his mouth to your cunt, his tongue darting out to taste the very tip of you.

The first contact was light, barely more than a teasing flick against your folds, but the taste of you already had him groaning softly against your skin.

His tongue flattened, dragging up the length of your pussy with slow, deliberate strokes, the heat and wetness of you making him dizzy with need.

He didn’t stop, his tongue swirling around your clit, flicking and sucking gently, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your sleeping body.

You stirred again, a soft moan slipping from your lips as your hips shifted slightly against his mouth, but you still didn’t wake. He could feel you responding, feel the way your body was starting to tremble under his touch, and it only drove him wilder.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your soaked folds as he spoke. His voice was low, thick with lust, and the sound of it sent vibrations through you. “So fuckin’ sweet… always so perfect for me.”

He buried his face deeper between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread you wider.

His tongue slipped between your folds, licking deep into your heat, fucking you slowly with each stroke. You whimpered in your sleep, your body responding to the pleasure even if your mind was still clouded with sleep.

He groaned as he tasted you, his tongue delving into your slick, warm cunt, savoring every drop of arousal he coaxed from you.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he growled, his voice muffled as he sucked your clit into his mouth, teasing it with slow, wet kisses. “Even when you’re sleepin’, baby, your body knows what it wants.”

He licked you harder, his tongue swirling over your clit before dipping back down to flick against your entrance. He alternated between sucking on your sensitive bud and thrusting his tongue deep inside you, his lips and tongue working you over with practiced ease.

He could feel the tension building in your body, your thighs trembling around his head as he devoured you, his mouth relentless in its assault on your pussy.

He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. His lips closed around your clit again, sucking harder now, his tongue flicking rapidly against the swollen bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked against him, a breathless moan escaping your lips as you finally started to wake up, the pleasure pulling you from the haze of sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you felt was his mouth on you, his tongue licking and sucking with a desperation that made your toes curl.

Your body jerked in surprise, but he held you down, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he continued to eat you out like a man starved.

“Mornin‘, baby,” he murmured against your folds, his voice dripping with lust. “You’re gonna cum for me. I’m not stoppin’ until you do.”

You gasped, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he licked you faster, his mouth working you over with a precision that had you seeing stars.

His teeth grazed your clit lightly, just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body, before he soothed the sting with his tongue, swirling it around your swollen bud until you were trembling beneath him.

He groaned, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through you as he buried his tongue inside you again, fucking you with it in slow, deep strokes. His nose brushed against your clit, the friction making you cry out, and he growled against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs as he held you open for him.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, his voice thick and rough as he licked you harder, faster. “I can feel how close you are. You’re gonna cum all over my tongue, aren’t you? Gonna soak my fuckin’ face.”

You whimpered in response, your body writhing beneath him as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. His mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, sharp strokes that had you gasping for breath, your hands clutching at the sheets as your orgasm surged through you.

He moaned against you, his mouth still working your clit as you came, the taste of your release flooding his senses.

He didn’t stop, didn’t let up for a second as he licked you through your orgasm, his tongue swirling over your sensitive bud until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lips brushing against your folds as he spoke. “Cum for me, baby. So fuckin’ good for me. I could eat this pussy all day.”

You were still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm when he finally pulled away, his lips and chin slick with your arousal as he moved back up your body. You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt the hard press of his cock against your entrance.

“Time to wake up, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick with need. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His cock slid inside you slowly, stretching you open as he filled you completely, the sensation overwhelming. His hands gripped your hips with possessive strength, holding you in place as he began to thrust, each deep, deliberate movement sending a shock of pleasure through your body.

His gaze darkened with lust, the intensity in his eyes making you shiver.

“You feel that?” he growled, his voice low and rough, his hips grinding into yours. “That’s my cock inside my perfect wife. You’re not just sweet —you’re mine to fuck, my own personal slut. Made for this.”

The way he said it, the ownership in his voice, made your body tighten around him, clenching his cock as if to keep him inside.

He leaned down, his chest pressing against yours, his breath hot against your skin.

His mouth found your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before sucking it deep into his mouth. He bit down just hard enough to make you gasp, the sharp jolt of pleasure-pain only heightening the sensation of his cock pounding into you.

His other hand cupped your other breast, fingers pinching and rolling your nipple between them, the roughness driving you wild.

“Such perfect tits,” he groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing the swollen bud again before sucking harder. “These belong to me too—just like this pussy. I love the way your body reacts to me, how you beg for more without even saying a word.”

He shifted his hips, slamming into you harder, the rhythm relentless now, his thrusts deep and rough.

The bed creaked beneath the force of it, your body jolting with every powerful movement, and all you could do was moan, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

“You love being mine, don’t you?” he rasped, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before moving to the other, biting down just enough to make you shudder. “You love knowing that I own you. My sweet little wife on the outside, but behind closed doors, you’re nothing but my filthy fuck toy.”

His words were so filthy, so degrading, but they only made your arousal spike higher. The dirty talk sent a rush of heat through you, your pussy squeezing around him as if begging for more.

“That’s right,” he growled, his pace quickening as he fucked you harder, his cock slamming into you with a raw, unfiltered intensity.

“I’m gonna fuck you until all you can think about is how good it feels to be filled by me. This is what you were made for—taking me, being mine, every inch of you.”

He shifted his weight slightly, freeing one hand from your breast to grab your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. “I love seeing you like this,” he whispered against your ear, his voice rough and ragged.

“Begging for my cock, letting me use you however I want. You love being filled by me, don’t you? You love being my perfect little girl.“

His hand tightened around your throat as his thrusts became erratic, harder, more desperate.

He was close, you could feel it in the way his cock twitched inside you, the way his breathing became heavier, more labored. “You’re gonna cum for me again,” he commanded, his thumb brushing over your nipple in time with his thrusts.

“You’re gonna milk my cock while I fill you up, baby. I’m gonna breed you, fill you with every last drop.”

His cock throbbed inside you as he pounded relentlessly, the wet sounds of his body slamming into yours filling the room. His hand tightened around your throat, while his other hand gripped your breast, his fingers pinching your nipple hard, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you.

He leaned down, biting at the soft skin of your neck before dragging his lips to your ear.

“You feel so good, hm?” he rasped, his voice dark and dripping with lust. “You love being owned like this. My perfect little girl, taking my cock like the slut you are for me.”

His thrusts grew deeper, harder, making you gasp with every movement, each one hitting the perfect spot inside you that made you tremble.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud before he released it with a wet pop. He moved to the other breast, repeating the rough treatment, his eyes flicking up to watch your face as you moaned helplessly beneath him.

“You want me to fill you up, baby?” he growled, biting down gently on your nipple. “You want me to breed you, to fuck you full of my cum until it’s dripping out of you.”

The filthy words sent heat flooding through your body, your pussy clenching tighter around him, making him groan deep in his throat. His thrusts became more frantic, his hips slamming against yours as he fucked you harder, deeper.

“I’m gonna make you a mommy,” he snarled, his voice rough with lust. “You want that, sweet girl? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Want me to be your fuckin‘ daddy?”

His words made your mind spin, and you whimpered beneath him, the idea of him filling you, making you his in the most primal way, sending a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you.

“Yeah, you do.” he growled, his cock pounding into you with brutal force.

“You want me to fuck you so deep, to breed you, make you a mommy with my cum. You’re gonna take it all, every last drop, and I’m gonna fuck you until I’ve filled you up. You want a daddy to fuck you, huh? You want me to give you my baby?”

You couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, the pleasure overwhelming as his dirty words pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His hand tightened around your throat just a little more, and his pace quickened, his hips slamming into you with wild desperation.

“I’m gonna breed you, baby,” he growled, his breath hot against your ear. “I’m gonna fill this tight little pussy with my cum, make you mine forever. Gonna be your daddy and fuck you full until you’re dripping with it. You’ll be swollen with my baby, and you’ll love every second of it, won’t you?”

The tension snapped inside you, your orgasm hitting you like a wave, your body convulsing around his cock as you cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Your pussy clenched hard around him, milking him for every drop, and he groaned deep in his chest, his cock twitching as he finally let go, his release crashing over him.

“Fuck,” he growled, his voice strained with pleasure as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard, filling you with his cum. “Gonna make you mine, baby. Gonna fuckin’ make you a mommy. You’ll be carrying my baby, swollen with it.”

He stayed there for a moment, buried deep inside you, both of you panting as the aftershocks of pleasure washed over you. Slowly, he pulled out, his cum already starting to drip from your swollen pussy, and he watched with satisfaction, his hand sliding down to gently rub your lower belly.

“You’re gonna look so fucking perfect with my baby inside you,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before whispering, “You’re mine. And I’m gonna fill you up again and again, until you can’t think of anything but being my good little wife… and the mother of my children.”

Joel stayed buried in the moment for a few more seconds, his hand gently stroking your belly as if imagining what it would be like to see you swollen with his child.

His touch softened, his expression turning from the raw lust that had consumed him moments before into something much more tender, loving. His thumb brushed lightly over your skin, his eyes full of warmth as he looked down at you.

“Think it’ll stick this time, baby?” he asked, his voice quiet, but filled with hope.

You smiled softly up at him, reaching up to stroke his face. “I hope so, baby,” you whispered, your voice teasing but full of affection. “You’re certainly doing your best to make sure of it.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead, the sweetness of the gesture making your heart swell. “You enjoyed every second of it, huh?” His tone was playful now, the intensity from earlier fading into something much more comfortable, more intimate.

“Every second,” you replied, biting your lip as you added teasingly, “Daddy.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, but it was playful, his hand swatting your thigh gently. “You’re gonna make me start all over again, talkin’ like that.” He leaned down, nipping at your neck in a way that made you giggle. “Stop it, I need to get to work.”

You laughed softly, still catching your breath from everything, and wrapped your arms around his neck for a brief moment before letting go. “Can you grab eggs on your way home later, baby?” you asked, the domestic request slipping easily into the conversation, as if nothing about the morning had been out of the ordinary.

Joel grinned down at you, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said softly. “But first, let’s get some coffee in us. Come on.” He gently nudged your legs apart and got up, offering his hand to pull you with him.

You accepted his hand and climbed out of bed, feeling the warm, comforting domesticity settle between you both like a cozy blanket. As the two of you headed to the kitchen, Joel kept one arm around your waist, holding you close as he moved about, getting the coffee started.

“Can’t believe I’ve got to leave this behind and go to work,” he said, shaking his head as he looked you up and down with an affectionate smile. “All this bliss - my woman teasin’ me with her ‘daddy’ talk, and I gotta put on a construction hat.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you nudged him playfully. “You’ll be home before you know it. Maybe we can pick up where we left off.”

Joel gave you a sly grin, pulling you into his chest for a brief, but warm kiss. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.” His voice was teasing but full of affection as he kissed the top of your head. “I might just quit and come back early.”

“Don’t you dare,” you laughed. “We need those eggs.”

Joel chuckled, reaching for the mugs as the coffee finished brewing. “Alright, alright, eggs it is. But tonight—” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his voice a playful growl, “we’re pickin’ up where we left off. No escapin’ that.”

You smiled up at him, your heart full as he handed you your cup of coffee. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

· · ───

After Joel left for work, the house grew quiet, filled only with the soft hum of daily life. You went through the motions—cleaning up the breakfast dishes, folding some laundry, and putting away the little things that needed tidying. As the day passed, you couldn’t help but think of Joel, out there working hard, pushing through the long hours, his body no doubt aching from the labor.

You knew that when he came home, he would need you. That’s how it was with him—he carried the weight of the day on his shoulders, and by the time he stepped through the door, he was ready to let it all out.

By late afternoon, you decided to unroll your yoga mat in the living room, letting the warm light of the setting sun fill the space as you moved through your poses. The deep stretches pulled tension from your muscles, and for a moment, you were completely lost in the rhythm of your breathing, your body relaxing into the poses.

You didn’t hear the front door open, didn’t notice Joel coming home early. You were in a deep bend, eyes closed, when you felt the familiar presence behind you.

Before you could straighten, his hands were on your hips—firm, possessive, the way they always were when he came home after a long day. He didn’t speak at first, just a low, throaty grunt as he tugged you back into him.

You could feel the heat of his body, the intensity rolling off him like a storm, and before you could even process what was happening, he yanked your leggings down in one swift motion, leaving you completely exposed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel muttered, his voice rough and thick with that familiar drawl. “You have no idea what kind of day I’ve had.”

His hands slid roughly over your hips, gripping you tightly as he leaned down, his breath hot against the back of your neck.

You didn’t have time to say a word before he freed himself from his jeans, pushing them down just enough to press his hard cock against your entrance. The anticipation made your body tighten in response, and you could feel your own arousal building as he held you there, hovering just at the edge of control.

“All damn day,” he growled, his voice low and strained, “all I’ve been thinkin’ about is gettin’ home, bendin’ you over, and takin’ you like this.”

With that, he thrust into you, filling you completely in one rough, deep stroke. You gasped, your body arching as he stretched you wide, his cock slamming into you with an intensity that made you dizzy. Joel didn’t ease into it—he took you hard, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you back against him with each brutal thrust.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, his voice tight as he drove into you again and again. “This is what I need. All day, bustin’ my ass, and I come home to this tight little pussy waitin’ for me.”

The words were filthy, but there was a rawness to them, a desperate need that you could feel in every thrust of his hips.

He was letting everything out, the tension of the day pouring into you with every stroke of his cock. You could barely breathe, the pleasure and intensity of it all overwhelming as he used your body, his movements relentless, demanding.

“You’re always so fuckin’ perfect for me,” Joel growled, his hands sliding up your body, rough fingers grazing your skin as he yanked your tank top down, exposing your breasts.

His hands moved to your chest, grabbing your breasts roughly, his thumbs brushing over your nipples before pinching them hard. The mix of pain and pleasure sent shockwaves through your body, and you whimpered beneath him, completely at his mercy.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice low and dark as his hips slammed into yours, his cock filling you over and over.

“Always so good for me. I work my ass off all day, and this—this is what I need when I come home. My sweet girl, just lettin’ me take what’s mine.”

There was a tenderness hidden beneath the raw desire, the way he spoke to you like you were his safe haven, the one place where he could let go of everything. But his actions were anything but soft.

He gripped your hips tighter, pulling you back onto his cock with a force that made you moan, your body trembling as the pleasure built higher and higher.

“You don’t know how much I need this,” Joel groaned, his pace quickening as his cock slammed into you harder, deeper. “You, here, ready for me every damn day. Letting me fuck you just like this. I don’t deserve you.”

You whimpered in response, the intensity of his words and his movements driving you closer to the edge. He was rough, unrelenting, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. The tension in your belly coiled tighter and tighter as his hands roamed your body, his grip possessive, his touch demanding.

“Goddamn,” he grunted, his voice rough as his pace became even more frantic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, baby. Gonna empty my fuckin’ balls inside you until you’re dripping with me.”

His words sent a shiver through you, and your body responded, tightening around his cock as the pleasure built to a peak.

You couldn’t hold back anymore—the tension snapped, and your orgasm crashed over you, your body trembling as you came hard around him. Your pussy clenched tight, and Joel groaned, his grip on you tightening as he felt your release.

“Fuck,” he growled, his thrusts becoming erratic, more desperate. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby. You’re mine.”

With a final, deep thrust, Joel buried himself inside you, his cock throbbing as he came, spilling his hot cum deep inside you. The warmth of it spread through you, and you shuddered, still trembling from your own release as he held you there, his chest pressed against your back, both of you panting.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Joel stayed inside you, his breathing ragged, the rough edges of his desire finally softening.

But when he pulled out, his eyes darkened again, watching as his cum started to drip from your swollen pussy, a low, filthy groan escaping his throat.

“Don’t you dare let it go to waste,” he muttered, his hand suddenly firm on your lower back, pushing you down slightly so you were exposed to him fully. “Push it out for me, baby. Let me see it.”

You whimpered, your body still trembling from the intensity of everything, but you did as he said, pushing his thick cum out of you, feeling it leak from your entrance. Joel’s eyes were locked on the sight, his gaze filled with raw hunger.

“Good girl,” he growled, his hand sliding down to gather the dripping cum on his fingers. Without warning, he pressed two fingers back into you, forcing his release back inside, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as you gasped at the sudden sensation.

“You’re gonna keep it in there,” he commanded, his voice low and rough as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, spreading the warmth of his cum inside you again.

“I’m not done with you yet. Not until I make sure you’re filled.”

As you clenched around his fingers, still sensitive from everything, he pulled them out and raised them to your lips. His eyes locked with yours, dark and full of intent. “Open,” he ordered softly, pressing the cum-covered fingers to your mouth.

You obeyed, parting your lips and letting him slide his fingers inside, the taste of him filling your mouth as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “Suck ‘em clean, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice both tender and commanding, watching as you did exactly that, his gaze softening just enough to make your heart flutter despite the intensity.

“Good girl. You don’t know how good you are to me,” he said quietly, his voice now a mix of gratitude and desire as he watched you.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, the roughness from earlier replaced with a deep, tender affection.

You smiled softly, his fingers still in your mouth as your eyes met his. “I’m always here for you, daddy.”

He chuckled low in his throat, pulling you closer into his chest, his breath warm against your hair. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, baby.”

After a moment of stillness, Joel slowly helped you up, his hands gentle but firm, lingering on your skin with a touch that made your body tingle. His eyes softened as they met yours, and the intense hunger from earlier melted into something warmer, more intimate. He guided you toward the bathroom, that teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low and affectionate. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, darlin’. Can’t leave my girl like this.”

You smiled, leaning into him as you walked, feeling the heat of his body still close to yours. Once inside the bathroom, you couldn’t resist a playful grin as you remembered the errand you’d sent him on. “So… did you get the eggs I asked for?”

Joel chuckled, his deep voice vibrating against you. “Yeah, fresh from the farm, just like you wanted. Thought of you the whole damn time,” he added, his tone dropping suggestively. “All I could think about was how you were gonna thank me for ‘em.”

You bit your lip, feeling the familiar heat return between you as he stood close, his fingers brushing your hip. “Well, I can’t wait to try that new recipe. You’re gonna love it.”

Joel leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll love whatever you’ve got cookin’. But let’s not pretend I’m not thinkin’ about that other way you thank me, baby,” he murmured, his voice dripping with that familiar, playful growl.

His hand slipped around your waist, pulling you closer as he added with a grin, “But first… let’s get you cleaned up. I need you fresh and ready for later.”

You laughed softly, your body warming under his touch, even as you let him guide you into the shower. The water was warm, cascading over your skin as Joel’s hands followed, his fingers gentle but still teasing, touching you with an ease that made your heart flutter.

His hands slid over your body, but every once in a while, he would pause—his touch lingering just long enough to make you tremble.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said, his voice softer now, filled with affection as he washed away the day from your skin. “Don’t know what I’d do without you here to come home to.”

You smiled, leaning your head back into his chest.

Joel let out a small hum of satisfaction, his lips brushing your shoulder as his hands continued their slow exploration of your body. He wasn’t rushing, savoring every second of the intimacy between you, even as you could feel the undercurrent of playfulness in his touch.

His hands slid down your stomach, stopping just short of teasing you further, and you let out a playful whine.

“Not yet, darlin’,” he whispered with a chuckle. “We’ve got dinner to make first.”

As you stepped out of the shower, Joel wrapped you in a soft towel, pulling you close for another lingering kiss. You could feel the warmth of his love in every gesture, even in the way he gently brushed the wet strands of hair away from your face.

“So, what’s this recipe that’s got you so excited?” he asked, his voice light and teasing as he led you toward the kitchen.

“A new quiche recipe,” you said, feeling your excitement return. “I’ve been wanting to try it for a while.”

Joel grinned, his eyes sparkling with affection and mischief. “Quiche, huh? You sure you ain’t just makin’ it so I’ve got something to eat after I’ve worked you up again?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “Maybe it’s a little of both. I’ve got to keep you satisfied one way or another.”

He stepped up behind you as you pulled out the ingredients, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back against him. “You know I’m already more than satisfied,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. “But I won’t complain if you keep spoilin’ me.”

You leaned into him, your head resting back against his shoulder. “Well, you deserve it after a hard day’s work.”

“That I do,” Joel whispered, his hands roaming again, teasing but not pushing. “But I can’t wait for dessert.”

You laughed, swatting him playfully. “Patience, cowboy. Dinner first.”

Joel chuckled, his breath warm against your neck. “Yeah, yeah,” he teased, stepping back to let you work, though his eyes followed your every movement. “But later… you and me, baby. Quiche ain’t gonna be the only thing I’m devouring.”

You glanced over your shoulder with a smirk, the playful heat between you always simmering, always alive. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As you continued to prepare dinner, the warmth between you two lingered in the air. It wasn’t just in the way he looked at you with that teasing grin, but in the domestic ease you both shared—the simple joy of being together, of teasing and loving one another, no matter what the day had thrown your way.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

[jeonful]

INNOCENT! 정국

bf!jungkook x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

smut, use of his korean name, pet names, teasing, swearing, making out, slight degradation, dumbification (if you squint), dirty talk, daddy kink, spit kink, praise kink, doggy, missionary, unprotected sex, bondage, reader is tied up, rough sex(?), choking, edging, spanking, squirting, overstimulation, dom!jk, bigdick!jk, d/s dynamic, cumming on stomach, fluff at the end.

m.list

it all started because of you.

because you stupidly decided to tease him. because you couldn’t let him show you any affection without having it lead to sex.

as soon as he had given you that innocent hug, you just had to graze your palm against the bulge between his thighs.

maybe it was because of the way that the white shirt he was currently wearing exposed half of his chest, or the way it hugged his biceps.

he swore, and you didn’t know if it was at you or at himself. but whatever it was about, you couldn’t help but smile. and you tried to hide your smile by burying your face into his chest.

“you wanna do that again baby?”

you could hear the teasing in his voice, so you did it again. your palm pressed firmly against his hard.

but as you came to do it for the third time, he immediately grabbed your hand to stop you.

you looked up at him and his expression was cold.

you titlted your head at him, “you okay ggu-”

“you see that door?” he pointed to the door of your bedroom, you looked in the direction of which he was pointing and nodded.

he playfully smacked your ass,

“walk to it.”

you gave him a suspicious look before turning around and walking straight to the door.

“good girl,”

he glanced at you for a moment, before disappearing into another room.

“what? where are you going?” you asked from the bedroom and he called back with, “stay there.”

you rolled your eyes and walked over to the bed, laid down onto it sighed into the mattress. Wondering what jeongguk was doing and how long it’d take for him to come back.

and when he did come back you didn’t expect him to have one of his ties wrapped tightly around his hand.

he spotted you staring at it, visibly confused.

he smirked, “s'wrong baby?”

you didn’t reply and tilted your head to the side. you realised what he was planning.

you made sure his eyes were on you and then slowly removed yourself from your clothes so that you were only wearing your bra and panties.

you smiled innocently at him and he looked at the floor and started to unwrap the tie from around his palm.

“stop looking at me like that.”

you laughed and asked him, “why?” but he didn’t say anything.

he just smiled and shook his head, throwing his tie on the nightstand beside you.

you looked up at him with a puzzled expression, and then reached for it but he took your hand away and laid you back onto the bed.

he grinned, “a-ah, not yet baby.”

you scoffed and he chuckled at your reaction.

“turn round ‘n face the wall.”

he didn’t need to ask you twice. you got onto your hands and knees and slowly turned around for him.

you looked over your shoulder and he grinned, whistling at the sight of you.

“fuck, i love your ass.”

he slowly squeezed it before grabbing your hips and pressing his clothed dick against you so that you could feel his bulge against your pussy.

you whined at his teasing, “ggukie, stop…”

he smirked at you, “hm? stop what?”

he pressed himself harder against your ass and you bit down hard on your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

his dick was straining against the fabric of his jeans, literally begging to be inside of you.

“fuck...” he lowered your panties and you heard his breathing hitch as soon as he saw your glistening cunt.

all because of him.

you head him pulling off that gorgeous shirt and so you turned your head to look at his exposed body. his whole chest was on full display, his abs prominent, his veins running down his arms to his hand,

“you okay sweetheart?”

he asked as he caught you staring at him.

you simply nodded.

he grinned at you and quickly unzipped his jeans.

you turned your head back around and waited, waited for him to start gradually sinking his thick cock into you, stretching you out and groaning as your walls uncontrollably squeezed around him…

and when your desire became reality, you couldn’t hold back your moans.

“gguk-,” you tried to say, but he cut you off,

“no, it’s not gguk baby. what is it?”

god. you couldn’t even think right now, let alone form a sentence.

he pushed himself deeper,

“say it.”

“daddy,”

you moaned and he squeezed your hips,

“good girl,”

he dragged his cock backwards, almost completely pulling out before ramming it back inside of you again, causing your hands to tightly grip the bedsheets in an attempt to steady yourself.

he was so fucking big. and he wasn’t hurting you but it sometimes took you time to fully adjust to the size of him.

you winced and jeongguk noticed and immediately stopped moving.

“you okay baby? want me to slow down?”

“no…” you frantically shook your head, "no, please keep going,”

he stared at you with uncertainty,

“daddy please.”

you whined, if he kept this up for any longer you were sure you’d combust.

he circled his hips, trying to let you adjust to his size,

“this feel good baby?”

you merely nodded,

“fuck, yes…”

he smiled, his tatted hand let go of your hip to grip the back of your head.

he rocked his hips faster, “how ‘bout now?”

you moaned which jeongguk assumed was a 'yes.'

“ohhh,”

he moaned as your spongy walls clenched around his swollen cock. it made his hips uncontrollably stutter for a moment. you felt so good around him, so tight. and he swore there was no better feeling in the world than being buried inside of you.

It wasn’t just him that was getting close, you could feel that familiar tightness in your abdomen. he repositioned you, grabbing your hips and tilting them slightly so that his cock came into direct contact with your g-spot.

“fuck!” you whimpered, your walls automatically squeezing around him.

he groaned at the feeling before delivering a sharp smack to your ass,

“wanna have you under me baby,” he rasped and before you could even process it, he pulled out of you.

he flipped you over, so that you were lying on your back.

you watched him as he climbed on top of you, planting slow, wet, sloppy kisses up your neck to your lips. his left hand dropped from your waist to hook under your thigh, kneading it.

you moaned softly against his lips, your hands went to wrap around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

he reluctantly broke the kiss and reached for the tie on the nightstand.

he nodded at you,

“hands up.”

you hesitantly raised your hands in front of him, making him smile,

“that’s it, good girl.”

he kissed you quickly and put your arms above your head, tying your wrists together with the tie, before lying you back down again.

“feeling alright sweetheart?”

he asked and delicately grazed his thumb across the line of your jaw.

“mm hm.”

he grinned at you, “daddy making you feel good huh?”

you nodded, causing jeongguk to smirk.

“use your mouth baby.”

“daddy is making me feel s’good...”

you whined and he bought his thumb to your cheek, softly stroking it before lowering his mouth onto yours and groaned, pushing his tongue inside.

he gently thrusted his hips forward, his length sliding into your heat for the second time tonight. and he didn’t stop until he was sure that he was fully inside of you.

his dick began to hit your sweet spot again, just as it was before. and that's when he picked up the pace, listening to the beautiful wet sounds of his cock slipping against your soft walls.

his tatted hand immediately latched onto your neck, he didn’t squeeze you yet, he looked from your eyes to your lips,

“open,” his voice was low and his expression was cold, just like it was earlier.

you opened your mouth, only for him to spit inside of it.

he watched to make sure you swallowed, which of course you did. and he scoffed at you, leaning down to kiss your lips,

“such a slut baby…”

he mumbled against your lips.

then he broke the kiss to look at you, his hand squeezing your neck. his grip wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t gentle either.

it felt amazing. having him on top of you, choking you, fucking you, totally and utterly dominating you.

and you thought that it felt different from this angle...

better.

he quickly let go of you, his hips still moving, he then lifted his head up, his hands went straight to your wrists to untie them and once he’d successfully done so, he threw it onto the floor and returned to his original position.

he bit down on your bottom lip, causing you to whine.

“fuck daddy... m’so close…”

“no, not yet baby. hold it for me,”

you weren’t sure if that was an option for you.

you felt that if he made another move you would immediately cum. the way he was fucking you, felt too good.

as much as you loved him fucking you from behind, you definitely preferred it when you were underneath him since you could see his face and all his expressions. like when every time his eyes rolled back. or his eyebrows furrowed. or his jaw clenched. or when he bit down on his lip to stop himself from cumming too early.

he moaned softly, then moved his hand away from your neck so that you could catch your breath. his head dropped and his eyes squeezed shut. his arms were shaking slightly. you noticed that when he moved one of them to grip the headboard above you, displaying his beautifully naked and detailed inked arm.

“fucking love this pussy.” he panted, “s'all mine, right baby?”

you smirked up at him, “all yours daddy.”

he was breathing hard, his hot breath fanning against your chest. then he looked back up at you, he looked desperate and needy.

you knew why.

he was close.

and so were you.

he gently lowered himself on top of you, so that his body was pressed against yours. his left hand dropping down from the headboard to hook under your thigh again.

he wrapped it around his waist, running his hand slowly back and forth and at the same time fucked in and out of your sopping hole.

“juuust like that...”

you saw him look down to watch his leaking tip reappear and then disappear inside of you over and over and over again. you watched as every time he pulled his hips back, his beautiful abs flexed. you watched as his steady thrusts became staggered.

faster.

frantic.

“mmh,” he whined, he looked back up at you, “baby i… -fuck,”

you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you. obviously begging to be released inside of you and you knew that wasn’t going to happen. yet. jeongguk liked you to be the one to cum first, so that you could feel him filling you up afterwards, so that he could still make you feel good even after you reached your high.

he liked to push himself until he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. which is exactly what he was doing right now.

and it was lucky for him that you came just before he did.

“daddy, i’m gonna-” your whole body froze. your eyes rolled back and you moaned, feeling the tightness in your stomach snap as you squirted over him.

he groaned when he realised what you had just done,

“fuck, good girl,” he buried his face into your neck, slowly stroking your sides, still fucking you through your orgasm.

the sounds of his cock slipping inside of you were made even wetter by your release.

he grabbed both of your thighs and wrapped them around his hips to allow him to fuck into you at a harder pace.

“babyyy… mmh,” his voice was audibly shaking, as was his body. and his hips. and his arms. he breathed hard into the crook of your neck and you watched as he chased his release and when he finally reached it, he quickly pulled out of you.

his warm load shot onto your stomach, he tilted his head back and moaned, giving himself a few pumps as he came down from his high. you stared as his milky cum dripped onto you. you could see it glistening on your skin

he was panting hard, his chest visibly rising and falling, his eyes were firmly shut, his eyebrows knitted together and his jaw was clenched. he took a minute to regain his breath then when he did so, he sighed heavily before putting his hands down on the pillow either side of your head.

he was hovering directly above you, gazing at how fucked-out you were. he scoffed at you and then leant down to kiss from your chest to your lips. slowly moulding his mouth with yours, slipping his tongue inside as well.

you moaned when you felt his dick beginning to push inside of you again,

“gonna stay inside you tonight. s’that alright baby?”

you nodded weakly,

“yes ggu-“

“ah…”

“…daddy.”

you couldn’t hold back a smile and he grinned back at you before resting his head against your chest.

he sighed contentedly,

“fuck, i love you.”

© jeonful 2024, all rights reserved.

[lokischocolatefountain]

Warning || Men Like Me

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girth age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), gratuitous descriptions of Joel Miller's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, breaking and entering, playboy magazine, objectification, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 6.2k Summary: Joel's warnings about what men like him would do to girls like you only makes you want him more. A/N: Back in the depths of hell again, you guys. Now this isn't the most depraved thing I've written by any means but it's up there. Come say hi in my chat or inbox, I'd love to talk. Keep a look out for follow up parts and pleeeeease give me comments. I am very very desperate.

Joel Miller was a bad man. That much he knew. 

Even as he fixed taps and renovated houses that were falling apart, he could see the blood on his hands. The very hands that packed lunches for Ellie snapped necks, pistol whipped men, stole from a starving child so he could feed his grown brother. But there were lows even he didn’t stoop down to. 

Not that he didn’t have the opportunity. Men always did. And in this world, opportunities had only tripled. Even the Boston QZ, as strict as it was, had an underground brothel. He knew Tess to frequent it and never asked questions. Sometimes she needed to bury her face between a good pair of thighs and wrap her lips around a pretty pussy, and this wasn’t something he could give her. There was a lot he couldn’t give her.

Being in Jackson should’ve civilized him. It did in many ways. He’d reverted to the southern gentleman with table manners. ‘Yes, Ma’am’ spilled out of his lips effortlessly when he spoke to women. He held the door for anyone walking in after him. He even went to Church– sorry, the multifaith house of worship–to help renovate. 

That was where his troubles began. 

There was no point in him going where people prayed. Being back in civilization did not erase his decades of disbelief in a cruel God who would take his baby and keep him on this accursed Earth. But he did because he was back to being a contractor and Tommy asked him to go fix up the pews instead of him. He didn’t have much time, being a new dad and all.

He was on his knees checking out the rotting wood and evaluating how much wood he’d need for building new ones when he was confronted by a pair of legs and a sweet voice. Yours. 

“Lemonade, Mister Miller?” 

He looked up, his eyes traveling up your legs, bare until he got to your knees where the hem of your flowery skirt sat. Pure, unblemished knees, never taken a fall, didn’t fucking creak, and never knelt before anyone but God. You looked down sweetly, eyes wide and innocent like a newborn cow. Everyone had a kind of darkness about them in this world. Everyone except the kids who didn’t know a world outside the insular walls of Jackson. And you, it turned out, even though you weren’t a kid.

He wiped his sweat off with the greasy rag he carried and looked up at you once again. You had a pitcher and an empty glass in your hands. A sweet smile on your lips and hair falling down your shoulders and reaching your breasts. A yellow ribbon sat in a bow where your neckline dipped between your breasts, adding to the innocence of your look.

“Yes please, Ma’am. Thank you,” he said, giving you a nod. Your pretty plush lips curled up, a giggle escaping them as you poured him a glass of lemonade. 

His hand brushed against yours as he accepted the glass, his hand too large to curl around it without making contact with you. You giggled again before retracting your hand and occupying it with adjusting your hair. 

“I’m younger than you, you know? Don’t have to call me Ma’am.” 

“Just being polite. Ma’am.” He took the glass to his lips, mindful to take only a small sip instead of downing it in desperation. Another adjustment to make when food was no longer a scarcity. Sweet, sour, and salty danced on his tongue before it glided down his throat. Just a sip refreshed him. And the sight of a nice girl didn’t hurt the cause either. 

It’d been so long since he had a nice refreshing glass of lemonade. Summers meant worse infestations of infected, not the barbecues, lemonades, and swimming of past. When surviving each hour was under threat, small luxuries like this became out of reach of even one’s dreams.

“Well, guess I should call you Sir then,” you said, leaning against the wall. You held the pitcher up to your chest and the tails of the ribbon on your chest dipped into it, the soft shiny yellow turning dark, tainted.

His mouth watered and fucking hell, it wasn’t the lemonade you just gave him. He took a sip of the drink and licked his lips, imagining how you’d taste if he wrapped his large hand around your neck and pressed his chapped lips to your plush ones. Better yet, if he held your legs apart and devoured you other pair of lips until you were leaking down his mouth. Would you call him Sir then? His cock twitched in his jeans as he pictured you bent over one of these pews, your skirt pushed up and his hand in your hair as he slid his cock in your hole. 

Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Made the lemonade yourself?” He asked,  groaning as he managed to get himself back up on his feet. His knees creaked like the floorboards of the houses he renovated, but ultimately supported him as he stood. He towered over you, making you appear smaller, more fragile. 

“Depends. Do you like it?” 

“It’s wonderful, of course. Hot summer day like this…I really needed it,” he said, raising the glass up a little before taking another sip. 

“Well then yes, I did make it.”

He chuckled, feeling himself pulled in by your easy charisma. It was nice to have normal conversations like this once again. No agenda, no need for establishing himself as someone who wouldn’t hesitate to beat someone up if even mildly threatened. It was just…normal. 

“It’s very sweet, Ma’am. Like you I assume,” he added, mentally dusting off the part of his brain where he stored skills for conversing with pretty girls.

You laughed, holding your free hand up to your mouth to cover your lips that widened and revealed your teeth. 

“Is that the southern charm that I hear our townspeople talk about?” 

“They talk about my charm? I didn’t hear.” 

“Oh yes, they do… Joel Miller, charming pants off of everyone in town.”

“Pants? Well that’s disappointing. I was hoping I’d charmed some pretty skirts off.” 

“Lots of experience with that, Mister Miller?” you asked, sliding your hand over the soft fabric of the skirt of your dress. Such delicate fabric. He could fist the hem and give it one tug and it’d rip right off.

“More ‘n what you got for sure,” he said, loath to hint at how infrequent his encounters had become in the recent past. Tess died, he did a cross country hike with an annoying kid, he needed to maintain a good reputation in his new town. One buried after the other. Enough to leave a man with nothing but his fist and his imagination. He would kill for a fucking Playboy magazine. Literally. He’d killed for less.

“What do you know about how experienced I am?” 

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 

“Oh well. Nothing I can’t learn.” 

He laughed nervously and stuck his hand in his jeans pocket. Surely you couldn’t be flirting… Why would a young thing like this flirt with him? He was in his late fifties looking like mid sixties and you were… He didn’t know. Young.

“If you could teach me, Mister Miller. Give a girl some experience?”

“I’m sure you can find someone else.” 

“Oh. Not your type, am I?” you asked, and he deluded himself thinking you sounded disappointed. No chance. 

He didn’t have a type. Long time since he thought of frivolous shit like that. But you shouldn’t be his type. 

“There’s much more eligible men in town is what I’m saying,” he said, suddenly hesitant to lie. Lying had never been an issue for him. The right thing was to lie, say you weren’t his type so he wouldn’t cross lines. It’d been a long time since he did the right thing.

“I’ll be the decider of that,” you said with a shrug of your shoulder before taking the empty glass from him. “Have a good rest of the work day, Mister Miller.”

Later that night, he wrapped his fist around his cock in the privacy of his room. His mind flooded with images of you spread out for him, sweet lips and a sweeter pussy milking him. He couldn’t even recall the last time he was with a woman. It was Tess, of course. Sometime before she got thrown in FEDRA jail for the last time. Too fucking long ago.

Surely it was only because it’d been a long time since he got his dick wet. He’d never, in his entire life, pictured a woman so much younger spreading her legs for him. Sucking his cock. Crying out his name. How old was she even? Not past mid twenties for sure.

It was wrong, he knew, as white hot spend spurted out of his cock and covered his hand. A sour tang took over his mouth as the fog of unadulterated lust cleared up to reveal the ugliness in his head. He shuddered, feeling like something had crawled under his flesh. He hadn’t felt guilt like this in so long. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

You weren’t even as old as his kid would be had she been alive. 

He’d known men like that back in the day. Grays in their hair and skin like old leather, but pretty young things old enough to be their daughter hanging off their arm. It was obvious that none of them kept these girls around for love or for their personality. It was always sex and the feeling of self-importance when a sweet young thing paid attention to balding heads, beer bellies and limp dicks that needed a blue pill to get up. 

Fucking disgusting. 

He began avoiding you whenever you happened to be in the same space. At the house of worship, the town clinic where you interned, trading days when people exchanged what they had for what they wanted. His eyes never met yours and he always quickly looked away when they stared too long at your uh…feminine features– pretty legs, cute ass, round tits. Where the fuck did you get sundresses anyway? Who kept that shit around in this world? 

He didn’t know that when he avoided you, you took note of him. When he took glances of your features, you memorized his for later in the night when you buried your head in your pillow and pushed your fingers inside your pussy to simulate what it must be like to be with a man. 

He was older. That much you knew from his grey hair, sun-damaged skin, and gait that exuded bone-deep weariness. You knew Tommy had just turned fifty. Hard to miss occasions that meant a free slice of cake from the canteen. Joel had to be in his mid-fifties at the very least. At first glance, he wasn’t what you’d consider handsome. There were younger men in town. Fit and muscular. Didn’t groan and scrunch up their faces when they got up. Didn’t have lines on their foreheads. No bags under their eyes. 

Yet there was something about Joel that was more entrancing. 

After your first meeting when you offered him lemonade, you made sure to visit under the guise of worship. You didn’t know much about religion and were conflicted about embracing a god. The only faith you had rested in your medical instruments and the medicines the town’s chemist concocted. But it was a nice place to meet people, to check on healing patients.

The visits were worth it for a glimpse of Joel’s large hands wrapped around his carpentry tools. When the sun was the hottest, he sometimes stripped down to his tank top, giving you a show better than any film played in the community theater. His broad back looked masculine enough in his flannel shirts. But you didn’t know desire like the first time you saw him in a white tank, showing off his muscular arms as sweat dripped down his tan skin.

When you pleasured yourself in your room, it took time, imagination, your fingers, and a lot of effort to make slick pool in your pussy. That day, all it took was the sight of Joel Miller working. You sat with your thighs pressed together, rubbing them against each other in the most inconspicuous little movements. 

Could it be blasphemy if the God who was supposedly orchestrating everything made this man take his shirt off in front of you?

It made no fucking sense. Joel was old. He looked like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed every goddamn day. He had been chewed up and spat out by whatever the fuck was outside Jackson these days. Hardened expressions, graying patchy beard, hands calloused from carpentry and decades of using weaponry. Features that only indicated a long life lived, not attractiveness.

You were supposed to be attracted to the soft, sweet ones like the guys in the worn out copies of romance stories that the previous inhabitant of your house stashed in the basement. Even his little brother would be a more reasonable target for your lust. Younger, taller, softer, head full of dark, silky hair with few grays. But you wanted Joel Miller with his rough graying beard that would prick your skin were you to cup his cheek like the women on the novel covers. 

Something about him just screamed Man. Something that none of the other guys in town had. There was nothing wrong with any of the other Jackson men, but none of them made you want to take the plunge and lose your virginity. It wasn’t the lack of offers, per se. You’d gotten looks from many eligible Jackson bachelors. You had drinks with a few of them. Dinner with fewer and shared a kiss with more than one. Alright, two. But anything beyond that had you trembling in anxiety. 

It wasn’t anything precious to you, virginity. But you’d waited so long. Focused so long only on survival and then helping to build this town and now training to become a doctor. Whatever passed for doctor these days. With all your life dedicated to everything but your love life, you simply had no experience. What if you messed up and they laughed? You knew anatomy, but that didn’t translate to practical stuff. What if you couldn’t make them feel good? You’d have to see the guy all the damn time in the small town. There would be no escaping the awkwardness.

Sure it was counterintuitive to keep pushing away sexual encounters because you had no experience. But you didn’t know what else to do. You were too old already to not have done anything. But each day that passed with you rejecting perfectly nice men meant you were getting even older for your first time. 

You didn’t know where Joel fit into your need for exploring your sexuality, but it didn’t hurt to stare. God knew everyone else in Jackson did. 

So you stared. Work with his carpentry tools. Riding on horseback into Jackson after patrol. Helping with the fucking sheep. Walking around with Tommy. Carrying his nephew around town. It should be inappropriate to be fantasizing about a man when he was doing something as innocent as carrying a baby. But seeing his large hand cradling the baby’s little head made you want to scream into your pillow and kick your legs. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

Your heart fluttered and you let out a nervous laugh at being caught. You smoothed out the wrinkles on your clothes just to make it look like you were alright. Unfortunately you were wearing a pair of fucking jeans. You didn’t even want to know how awkward you looked. 

“‘m alright, Mister Miller.” 

“Joel’s fine,” he said, rocking his nephew in his arms.

Oh fuck, his fucking arms!

“Oh I don’t know,” you said, fidgeting with a belt loop on your jeans. “Wouldn’t want to be impolite addressing you by your first name like that.”

He smiled, recalling your conversation from the house of worship when you called him Sir and had him fucking himself in the shower to the memory. “Ah. ‘cause I’m an old man,” he said, more as a reminder to himself to fucking behave. 

“You’re not that old…” you trailed, looking him over in a way that set fire to every inch of skin that you laid eyes on.

Behave, Miller. You’re out with your nephew. 

“That so?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Mhmm. You don’t look a day over seventy.” 

He snorted, making Miles stir in his arms just a little. That stung a little. It shouldn’t. Your estimation of his age, whether you were serious or not, was reminder enough that he was too old to be lusting after you.

“Thanks. I’m actually eighty-two.” 

You giggled your pretty little giggle, lowering your gaze to the ground and looking back up only when it had turned into a wide grin. “How old are you actually?”

“Old. Fifty six.” 

“Fifty-six isn’t that old…” you trailed as you brought a hand up to his bicep. Joel gulped, praying to the non-existent God that you would stop before praying to the same God that you would keep your hand right there. God answered his second prayer. You squeezed, licked your lips and looked up at him with your doe eyes.

“Checking if the hardware is still working, Doctor?” 

“I’m not a doctor yet.” 

“When do you become one then? Ain’t no Harvard handing out medical degrees in this town.”

“Howard?” you asked, squinting at him. Ah, of course you didn’t know. Harvard didn’t mean the same thing to you. Now it was just like every other building in Boston. Run over by infected. These ones were just the nerdy kind with glasses on.

“That was a thing, too. But I said Harvard. They were big universities back then.”

“Ah. Did you go there?” You asked, with no malice or bite. Oh, bless your heart. No one expected a dummy like him to have gone to university at all, much less Harvard. No one in his family had gone. Sarah was meant to be the first.

“Yeah. Traded some oxy and threw molotovs at clickers in the campus.” 

You rewarded him with a giggle and that was incentive enough for him to keep going. “Guys like me didn’t get into Harvard. Or Howard. Didn’t even go to community college. I finished high school and got a job in construction.” 

“You didn’t go to uh…construction college?” You asked, cocking your head and raising an eyebrow as though testing out the term.

“No such thing. Well, there were civil engineering programs, but I just learned on the job.” 

“Like me.” 

“Guess so. I see you reading from all those fat medical books. But there’s no need to study any books in construction. ‘cept if you wanna be an engineer or architect or something, which I’m not.” 

“Maybe you should write one. We could all do with some knowledge from before. It’s important to document it, pass it on to Ellie and little Miles over there.” 

“I ain’t writing books, sweetheart. Don’t think I even remember how to write much. I’ll just keep to fixing things up in this town. So, if you need some help with your place…I’m happy to help.” It was the least he could do. Maybe as some kind of penance for having impure thoughts about you. Or as a fucked up trade for starring in the mental images he conjured to jack off in the shower.

“There is something, actually. But I don’t have anything to trade for, so I’ll wait until I do,” you said, clasping your hands behind your back and swaying in place in an endearing manner.

“Nonsense. You patched me up just last week. You’ve done enough for the town’s health to not have to trade for anything ever again.” 

“Well, no. That’s not how it should be… It’s people’s health. Can’t put a price on that.”

“Believe it or not, health had a steep price back in the day. Cost four thousand something just to give birth. Double that if they had to cut you open.” And that was just how much it cost when Sarah was born. He was sure it had only gone up by 2003. If he hadn’t worked his ass off, there was no way he could’ve escaped debt. It helped that his Ma and his then wife’s parents helped with childcare. Would’ve been even more expensive without that.

“Damn. I don’t know how much that is, since…y’know we don’t have money now. But that sounds like a big number. It shouldn’t cost anything just to be born.” 

“Tell me about it,” he said, shaking his head. “But listen. Anything you want fixed, I’ll help out. You can give me something later if you’re worried. I know Ellie’s always on the look for new books to read and you seem to have a lot of them.” 

“Nothing Ellie would like. Not like the special limited edition of Savage Starlight or anything. Just medical textbooks and romance novels.” 

“We could trade for the lemonade from that afternoon,” he insisted, desperate to do something for you. Take care of you as you took care of everyone who walked into the clinic be it papercuts or a fucking knife in their abdomen. 

“Alright. Trade for the lemonade it is then,” you said, giving in to his pressure.

“Now tell me. What d’ya need fixed?” 

⌘⌘⌘

It had been a few days since Joel promised to fix your shower for you. Each time he came by and rang your doorbell, you hid somewhere away from your windows. When he caught sight of you in public, you quickly walked away or engaged in conversation with someone else. You didn’t need shit fixed. Everything in your house was perfectly alright. Tommy and his guys had given the place a complete makeover just a couple months before Joel and Ellie arrived. 

You were no paragon of honesty, but you didn’t make lying a habit. There were a few white lies here and there and this was meant to be one of them. It just didn’t fucking hit you that if you lied to a contractor that your shower was broken, he would eventually come over to fucking fix it. All your desperate sex starved brain wanted that day was for Joel Miller to come use his tools in your room and flex those muscles while at it.

So invested were you in that particular fantasy that as you unwound after a long shift at the clinic, it was with Joel’s beefy arms in mind. You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your reflection. One of the magazines you’d found in a box under your bed laid open on the dressing table. Playboy. Entertainment for Men. Each had a scantily clad woman on the cover. And many more inside. 

You made comparisons to yourself and the woman in the center page of the issue.

She stood in front of a dressing table too, but much different from how you stood. Her legs were on either side of her dressing table chair and her hands on the top of it. Between her arms were breasts, big and round and with smooth skin. They didn’t have any marks on them like yours. No moles, no stretch marks. Just plain. And she just stood there, soft brown hair down, tickling the top of her breasts and her lips parted as she gazed at you. No, at the men she was meant to entertain in this men’s entertainment magazine. All she had on was panties that went high up to her flat belly that connected to high transparent socks.

You reached behind your back and unclasped your bra, wishing that you had something nicer like the woman on the cover of another one of the magazines. Bright red and showing off her breasts wonderfully, but pulled down to reveal almost everything. What was the point of a bra then if it didn’t cover or support anything? Entertainment, you decided. Men seemed to be very entertained by breasts. 

Many a man had stared at yours even though you had them behind layers of fabric unlike the naked women of the magazines. Many had conversations with them instead of your face. Some brushed up against them ‘accidentally’. Joel thought he was being covert, but you felt his brown eyes rove all over them. You thought maybe that he too would brush up against it sometime, but he never did. Maybe entertainment stopped at just looking, as in the magazines. 

You wondered if Joel sought out men’s entertainment magazines like this. He was from before everything went to shit, so it was very possible that he did. Did he like the women in these pages, sticking their asses out and looking through the pages at him? Would he be entertained if he saw you like this? 

You didn’t know that if you turned your head to your bedroom door, you would have your answer. Joel’s cock strained against his already tight jeans as he stood awestruck by your figure. He swallowed as you held on to the top of the chair and lifted your knees, one after the other and placed them on the plush seat. You arched your back, a little too much at first before reducing the curve. Your ass stuck out enticingly and he didn’t know whether to grab, squeeze, slap, or spread your cheeks apart and fuck your ass. 

He should leave. 

It was stupid of him to walk into your house with a box of plumbing tools to fix your shower when you hadn’t yet given him a date or time for it. Plus you were avoiding him. Running away with your little friends and picking up stuff to hide your face from his view. He was plenty sure that when he’d rung your doorbell, you weren’t always away from home. 

He should leave. 

Fixing the shower could wait. He could confront you some other day. 

But you were putting on such a pretty little show in nothing but your panties and he was only a man. A bad one. 

His boots stayed put on your hardwood floors as you enjoyed yourself in front of the mirror. You spread your knees and let your fingers between your thighs, eyes closed, lips parted and low whines escaping your lips in just a few minutes. He palmed his growing erection over his jeans, consequences of being caught be damned. He was a foul beast already. What bad was another sin on the list? Besides, you were the one who’d left the fucking door open. 

Your soft whimpers grew into moans as you brought yourself closer and he forced his feet to stay put despite their urge to walk up to you and give you something to really moan about. 

“Fuu– mmm Joel, pleeease.”

He let out a gasp, all his restraint flying out the window as soon as he heard his name from your lips. You couldn’t actually be doing this… There had to be another Joel in town. Younger, better looking, smarter.

Your voice grew needy and the pitch higher as you kept at it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gimme it, Sir.” 

No, it couldn’t be anyone else. 

Joel toed his boots off and took quiet steps towards you, emboldened by the filth that spilled from your lips. If this old man was what you wanted, he wouldn’t stop himself from reaping the benefits. He wasn’t a goddamn saint. Never was. 

He stopped in front of you, surprised you still hadn’t sensed his presence. As though the universe heard his thoughts, it had you open your eyes. You gasped as soon as you saw him and buckled off the chair, but Joel caught you. You shuddered, unable to cope with the sudden touch. 

“J-Joel?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said, touching your cheek with the back of his hand. You whined, your body molding itself against his chest. You brought a hand to his arm, feeling the rock hard muscles underneath his sleeves and your other hand worked between your legs.  

Your fingers no longer felt adequate as you felt his large fingers on your cheek. “Want you, please,” you whined, desperate to return to the edge where you had been right before you saw him. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me…” he spoke dangerously, soft brown eyes clouded with a kind of desire you had longed to see in him for weeks. 

“Want you…want you to be with me,” you repeated stupidly, your desperation clouding your senses too much for you to say anything else. While in the past you only wanted to get rid of your virginity, your goals had become more specific with his arrival. You wanted him. You wanted his big hands and broad shoulders, to hold on to them as you rode him. To watch his grumpy expressions turn to ecstasy under you. 

“Tell me not to touch you,” he said, his tone low and almost threatening. Any other threat from him, you would’ve heeded. But not this one. 

“Touch me!” 

It was as though something in him snapped at your words. While darkness only loomed over him before, it now completely took over.The hand that previously only caressed your cheek now wrapped itself around your neck. Before you could completely process the move, his other hand slapped yours away. He replaced two of your puny fingers with his middle finger, eliciting a strained moan from you. 

“Touching yourself to a Playboy magazine, huh?” 

You only nodded, unable to form words now that a fantasy of yours had finally come to life.

“Dirty little thing…Thought you were a nice girl and all. Helpin’ out at the clinic, head buried in books all the time. Turns out you actually got your head in dirty magazines.” 

You whined, your pussy clenching and gushing around his finger at the way he was speaking to you. The same man who insisted on calling you Ma’am despite your protests was calling you a dirty girl now. The veil of respectability seemed to have floated away at the sight of you naked and pleasuring yourself. Had you known that this was all you needed to get Joel Miller to touch you, you would’ve done it much sooner.

He added another finger, the girth of him enough to stretch you more than you had done for yourself. You brought a hand up to his shoulder and fisted his shirt, needing something to anchor yourself to. 

“You ever been taken by a man, sweetheart?” He asked, his tone too cool and casual for what he was doing to you. You shuddered, partly from his phrasing– taken, he said. Taken. Like you were a thing. Like the women in the magazines positioned so uncomfortably just so their breasts could look a certain way for the picture. Printed on the cover page with the words Entertainment for Men written on top. You shook your head, feeling small as you confessed it for the first time. 

“Any man?” 

“N-no,” you managed to breathe out, whimpering at the way the bulge beneath his jeans twitched at your simple answer. He took a step to position himself behind you, letting you lean your back against his chest. The angle at which he touched your pussy changed, opening your world up to a wonderful new kind of pleasure. 

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me,” he whispered in your neck, making you shiver. His thumb roamed between your legs as far as they could reach, caressed you gently, his softness with you contradicting his warning about men like him. The hand around your neck slithered down your torso, cold air forcing you to face your new desire of having your breath kept hostage. 

He took your left breast in hand, squeezing the flesh like someone starved would hold on to a piece of bread. It felt more like a punctuation to the warning he issued than a part of sex. Just then, his thumb between your legs stopped its search, stopping a little above the fingers inside you.

A moan you didn’t recognize as yours at first filled the room and you buckled forward. Blunt nails sunk into the flesh of your breast as he saved you before you could fall. He hauled you back up, making you collide against his chest. 

You gasped and quickly grabbed the hand between your legs, the sensation too intense for you to know what to do with. His thumb kept on, rolling over something there that set your person on fire. 

“Fuuuck! Joel– I– I– hnnng–”

“I know, sweetheart,” he crooned, keeping at whatever the hell he was doing to make you feel this way. 

“Please… I don’t– what was that?” 

You felt his chest rumble before you heard his laughter. Heat rose to your face and your throat felt strained though there was no hand around it anymore. 

“Never touched your clit? Do you even know what that is?” He mocked, the cruelty somehow not repelling you from him. He forced you to look up at him. Your heart lurched at how close you were to his face. You could see every gray hair, every minute blemish and line.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man? You don’t know what you’re handing me on a silver platter. I ain’t like the other guys in town. I walked across the fucking country and lemme tell ya, there’s no pretty things like you out there. I’m starved.” 

“Take me, then,” you begged, using his own words from earlier. “Please. Whatever you– a-aaah!” 

He ramped up the pressure on that spot– your clit– and with it, took your ability to speak coherently. It was as though he’d done it on purpose. You hated it. To be so bereft of control. To be a puppet in someone’s hand. For someone to acquaint themselves with parts of you that you didn’t know of. But it was too much to fight, so you let go. Let him play with you. Take you. Like a thing.

You renounced control of your lips too, his name slipping out effortlessly like it did when he caught you. Then you renounced what was left of your dignity and began begging relentlessly. For what, you didn’t know. In his hand, you’d gone from woman to pupper, your strings pulled by a man, your voice now his. Sounds that would be indiscernible from that of a wounded animal emanated from somewhere deep within you. 

Perhaps none of this was real. Why else did your own voice grow so distant from you? Why did your vision become blurry? Your thighs shook uncontrollably and your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Your eyes clenched shut, depriving you of your blurred vision. Your toes curled. You wanted to shrink into yourself, shrink away from all this goodness. You went higher and higher, soaring like a bird. Every nerve ending in your body felt electrified, awoken like one switch turned on every light on last winter’s Christmas tree. 

You let out a loud cry, the soaring bird in you reaching its peak before beginning its fall to the ground. You could hear your breaths again, labored but doing everything to stabilize itself. Your thighs still shook. Your chest rose and fell. A hand caressed your hand. Behind you, something strong supported your back. Kept you from falling backward. 

“Joel…” 

“I know, I know…” he whispered into your head. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, surprised to see a softer visage. He picked you up off the chair like you’d seen him lift giant logs before. With ease. You didn’t protest as he carried you. Didn’t protest when he laid you out on your bed. 

He bent down and picked something up. No questions, no instructions. He simply spread your leg away from the other. Cold air touched the gushing mess dripping out of you and you shivered, feeling a sudden need to cover yourself but unable to defy him. His hand was on your pussy again. His hardened, calloused fingers behind a soft fabric this time. He wiped upwards, collecting the mess he made out of you. When he lifted the fabric up, you realized it was your panties. 

He tucked it into the pocket of his jeans and then looked back at your face, the intensity of his gaze making you want to run. Problem was your weak legs wouldn’t take you anywhere. You didn’t screw your eyes shut. You didn’t pull your blanket to conceal yourself. You looked back at him, defiant. Like you were trying to prove something. I can handle a man like you. 

“Be a good girl from now.” 

That and a condescending pat on your pussy and he was gone.

⌘

Part 2