#body rock girl i can feel your body rock😘

[urfavlarry]

ive been binge watching arcane and i just cant help but hear ekkos voice in the song “beauty and a beat” by justin bieber 😭🙏

PLEASE TELL ME IM NOT GOING INSANE AND THAT SOMEONE ELSE HEARS IT..

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The landing | joel miller x f!reader, 13.2k

Summary: You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you. Or The one where your orbits finally collide for the final showdown.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, NO SPOILER (read A/N), ANGST, cheater!joel, discussions of infidelity, mention of food consumption, yelling, crying, the briefest mention of smut thoughts, sprinkle of fluff (blink and you'll miss it), as always let me know if I missed anything 👀

A/N: Ok, *deep breath* I know I can't make everyone happy unless I write alternate endings 😅 and I understand that infidelity can be a very triggering concept. I gave them the ending I felt they both deserved, but if you're looking for a story where they are at each other's throats for 13k words, maybe this is not for you and you are more than welcome to kindly move on. I won't spoil the ending in the Warnings, so proceed with caution, you know what the main theme is all about. All I can tell you is that this part of the story is divided into two main scenes because I didn't want to drag it out with one little scene after another. *she says after spilling 13k words🙄sorry about that👀* As always, I would love to read your thoughts on the last part and please keep in mind that writing is almost always self-indulgent.

P.S. I want to thank each and every one of you for the love I received for this mini-series, I never thought it would engage so many people. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You've all been so kind and sweet to me, so this journey filled my heart with joy! I love you all, take care of yourselves and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! Oh! My asks are always open if you want to know more about their story. I could even write drabbles or one-shots about anything you'd like to know in particular. Ily, bye 😘

P.S. I deliberately left the last two lines without clarification of who says what, I leave that up to you. 🤍

Dividers by @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics @plum98

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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FOUR YEARS AFTER THE FALL

Are you still falling?

You’re not sure anymore. Maybe you’re just used to it. Or maybe you just learned how to fly. It certainly feels like everything has slowed down. Sometimes it feels like floating. As if you’re a feather, so lightweight, swirling around aimlessly. But you can never touch the ground. Gravity can’t quite pull you down. Every time you feel like you’re finally landing, a force of nature pulls you back up.

Maybe it is a soft, warm, summer breeze, a memory of Joel.

Maybe it is a whirlwind, a contact from the lawyers.

Maybe it is a snowstorm, sign the papers, please.

Maybe it is the whispering of a gentle wind, the possibilities of what might have been, or the lack of real closure.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

You never thought you’d enjoy leaving the big city and making a home for yourself on a ranch. But you loved it. You loved the peace and quiet, you loved this new community of people, you loved taking care of the horses, riding them, being around them. And then there was the house. A place you could almost call home. It was beautiful, rustic, warm, inviting, lacking none of the comforts a modern house needs, because you can’t quite get the big city girl out of you. The entire land had a soft, yellow-golden light enveloping every tree and every rock, everywhere your eyes reached, as if the sun shone differently here.

The days are easy. The chores are more than enough to keep you focused, there’s always something to do around here. It feels good to be busy, to keep your mind from dwelling on the past. You welcome the exhaustion of a full day’s work that accompanies your body when night comes.

Evenings are mostly good. You shower the day off, you cook, you chill on the couch with a good book or a film and more often than not, as the time passes and you feel more comfortable sharing the privacy of your home, you have friends over for dinner and drinks.

Nights though, nights are hard. At night, you pray that you are tired to the point of exhaustion so that you can sleep through it peacefully. Sometimes it works, but most of the time, not so much.

Time has intensified and lessened your emotional burden simultaneously.

The sharp pain that feels like thick acid being poured into you mellows in an inexplicable way. It still hurts, the pain oozing out of your every single pore even in a physical way. Only now, it has transformed into a sweet, slow poison conquering every hollow of your body, every vein leading from your heart to the ends of your limbs.

It’s almost a welcoming feeling, this pain, reminding you that you’re still alive, that he was real, that everything that happened was real. Because sometimes, sometimes, when you let yourself relax, when you let your guard down, all of this feels like a dream. Sometimes, you wake up in the middle of the night, confused, reaching with your hand for the other side of the bed and finding it empty. And for a split second you get that feeling. The feeling of how it used to be with him next to you.

Then you remember.

You know why this is happening and who’s responsible for it. This is a mix-up. This is what your treacherous brain does to mess with your resolve. It blends the bad stuff into the good, creating the strangest of concoctions. The clear image of black and white, neatly and perfectly hung in the center of the walls of your mind is now splashed with colorful memories from your life together, like a Pollock painting. You do your best to resist, to bring back scenes from all the vivid recollections of the night your life changed forever but your uncooperative brain pops another memory up, a good fuckin’ memory, like a projector, illuminating those bare imaginary walls with laughter and touches and whispers and scents and warmth. It’s relentless.

This dichotomy creates an uneasiness inside you, you choose to reject and pretend not to notice. Which in turn leads to self-contempt because, as always you can’t lie to yourself. You may lie to others but deep in your core you have to be honest with yourself. That is something you’re owed. To be aware, present in the reality of your life. So, you know, you know, you just sweep things under the carpet as a copy mechanism. You know what you should do.

You should confront him. You should demand answers and then finally say what you need to say to him. Not for him, not for his sake, but for yours. But you can’t. You've lost count of how many times you've picked up the phone and your thumb hovered over his contact to call him but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. And every time you tried to text him, to start a conversation, it felt too awkward. The only acceptable subject of discussion initiated by you was the progress of the divorce papers. You were unable to even remotely insinuate a more meaningful encounter. And he didn’t make any advances either. Not that you gave him any room to try and talk to you, but still, he seemed more settled with that, rather than not.

Maybe that fact itself was your cue to let it all go. He’s probably moved on. You don’t cheat on someone so blatantly and then want them back. Obviously, this whole delaying of the divorce is a power play, like everything else, it seems.

Good, yeah, that’s it. That’s it.

Now, let go. Move on. You solved it. Let go.

But this annoying little voice is scratching the walls of your weary brain, nudging the limits of the carefully made up serenity that’s hanging by a thread.

You should confront him. For your peace of mind, for your equilibrium.

But it’s nice here. Even between the earth and the sky.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

It’s early in the evening and you’re in the garden in front of the house near the porch, on your knees, plucking a few weeds from the ground. The fatigue of the day’s work has begun to take its toll on you, your shoulder is slightly trembling as you rest your weight on one palm to dig around with the other. Sweat covers your torso, rolling down between the valley of your breasts and the hollow between your spine, leaving your t-shirt clinging to your skin, your hair sticking to your forehead, which is lightly covered in a thin layer of dirt at some places as you keep wiping your forearm over the little beads of salty water that concentrate over your brows.

You feel him before you see him. He’s still taking up space in your micro-universe. His sole presence creates ripples through the atmosphere as he walks towards you, softly nudging you to turn your head from your spot to look behind you.

There's an overload of sensations before you shift your body around to confirm what you already know in your bones. You can smell him, taste him, feel him on your suddenly tingling skin, all at the same time.

You turn slowly and your breath hitches on your throat. You just stay in place, frozen, time infinitely stretching as you take him in from where you kneel on the ground. He stops abruptly the second his eyes meet yours and you could swear he’s holding his breath, his face completely unreadable.

He looks.. he looks like your Joel and nothing like him simultaneously. Soft yet imposing. Handsome yet battered. Determined yet lost. His clothing is simpler, dark jeans, green flannel over a black t-shirt and laced boots, as if he just returned from a working site. His curls are longer, framing his handsome face in a ridiculously good way, more white hairs nestle in his beard that is not that trimmed. Neither of you speak quite yet, taking each other in.

Your mind, your bizarre, ridiculous mind is working on figuring out what day it is. Why does it matter? Did you have an appointment? This is unexpected and a long time coming all at once, regardless of the day of the week. What comes next? Do you draw up an astrological map to determine if it's a compatible date for you to meet? Get it together.

Your facial expression must be pretty funny because Joel smiles awkwardly while scratching one side of his bearded cheek; hey, it’s me.

No, shit, you mentally respond, as if you could ever forget him. Furious is the word that best describes you because these are his first words? Hey, it’s me? And that feeling escalates into an explosive retort because you now realize that you had expectations. His first words? Who cares what his first words are? Were you expecting a tearful reunion, masterfully staged and executed like a romantic film? The guy betrayed you in your own house, sorry, his house. Wake the fuck up.

“Did you sign the papers?” you spit as you rise from your spot and he reacts as if you have punched him in the stomach. His face falls; you see a series of micro-expressions pass over his features before he settles on the last one. Has he been hurt? Did you hurt his feelings? Did he also have expectations?

“Uh-”, Joel raises his brows in genuine surprise, things probably not going the way he expected or hoped.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”, he replies with mild mockery.

Your eyes snap shut and you laugh in anger, lowering your chin to your chest and then looking back up at him, your eyes blazing, your brows mimicking his previously surprised expression, “Are you serious right now?” you cross your hands defensively over your chest.

You stare at each other for a good minute, both of you taking a moment to compose yourselves and regain your balance.

You break first, dropping your head back to your chest, looking down at the heel of your shoe scraping the ground beneath you, exhaling audibly.

“Hey,” Joel tries again, after speaking your name tenderly, your name on his lips, his head dipping down and to the side to try and get your attention back to him, his gaze filled with a mixture of warmth, regret and fear, “hi.”

You shake your head from side to side in repentance, what a great start this is, you keep thinking, “Hi.” is all you give him, still not looking at him.

“Hi,” he repeats, “it’s really nice to see you, bab-, shit, sorry.”, he winces, covering his mouth with his palm, embarrassment creeping into his features. You let out a quiet laugh, exhaling through your nose. You don’t comment on the slip of endearment that leaves his mouth, you don’t correct him, accepting privately that you liked it, you missed it, you longed for it.

Joel studies your face, but makes no comment on your silence. “You look...” he pauses for a split second before deciding to continue, “you look really good.” He hesitates, he doesn't want his compliment to come across as a feeble attempt to patronize you, because he really means it. You do look good, all sweaty and muddy and human and real. You are real. If he took a few steps forward, he could actually reach out and touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips, smell your heady scent, perhaps discreetly lick the remnants of your sweat from his thumb after carefully removing the strands of hair sticking on your forehead. But he doesn’t do that. He doesn’t do any of that.

You don’t quite know how to respond to that, any answer crossing your mind seems stupid or cheesy or dismissive. How do you respond to a compliment from the man who made you worship in his altar, only to have your faith ripped out of your heart?

His eyes keep roaming over your face, your figure, memorizing everything he can, like a blind man who has finally found his light, while he fidgets with an envelope in his hand which reminds you-

“Did you sign the papers, Joel?”, is what escapes your lips before you can think twice.

“No.” and now it’s his turn to lower his head, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he looks down at his feet.

“Joel!”, you exclaim infuriated, rolling your eyes at him, knitting your brows together in a sign of frustration.

“No, no, it’s not like that. I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you want.”, Joel raises a hand in your direction to stop you from what seems to be a fair assumption, his palm up, facing you in an unspoken surrender. “I thought that- me, not signing, was a way of showing you how deeply sorry I am, how much I wanted to fix our marriage, but I understand now,” his voice wavers slightly, “that I need to respect your wishes. It’s the right thing to do. If this is still what you want, I’m gonna sign it.”

You don’t reply to that last part, only pointing out that “You didn’t have to come all this way to tell me that.”

“No, I didn’t.” Joel agrees.

“Then why are you here?” you insist, reluctant to entertain the idea that he has actually come all this way to apologize.

“Because I owe you an explanation.” is his honest and direct answer, sending little jolts of electricity through your nerves.

“Joel..” you sigh in exasperation. Not in warning or frustration, not really, but in something else. A feeling you can’t really put a name to, the closest you can come to describing it is that of a burden, woven deep into your heart, blossoming rapidly with each beat. There are so many things left unsaid; it makes you feel helpless, like you’re drowning. You want the dam you’ve built around your soul over the years to break so everything you've been holding back can finally pour out of you, but there’s just so much of it, of everything, that you’re terrified. Will the overflowing tank of emotions be completely empty? Will there be anything left unsaid? Untouched? What if the remnants left behind keep licking around your wounds, their waves pushing, shaping what’s left of you into something new, unrecognizable?

And what if, the tank will indeed be completely empty? What you’ll be left with, then? Nothing? Just.. empty? Will you remain empty? What, if anything, will take its place? Will you recognize your new self? Will you like yourself? Will you be able to live in harmony with this shell of a person? This you; you know. You hated and pitied and caressed and comforted and forgave and nurtured you into some version of a new you. But this? Everything will be torn apart, the wounds will be freshly opened, accessible to be examined in detail, plucked and bled and bruised in an all-too-familiar way.

Joel’s voice snaps you out of your trance, “No, I do. I owe you more than that, actually, but that’s the least I can do. And I wanna do that while I’m still your husband. I want to explain myself as your husband. Apologize to my wife, as her husband. Then I’m gonna sign anything you want me to.”

“And if I don’t wanna hear what you have to say?”

“Then I’ll just sign the papers and leave you in peace.” Joel confesses in all his honesty.

You just nod, looking down on the ground. You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You can do this. You want to do this. You need to do this.

You walk towards the house and sit down on the steps of the porch, as he looks at you awkwardly, not knowing where to stand. You gesture with a tilt of your head for him to come sit next to you. You can do this. You realize that you didn’t invite him into the house and you feel a bit rude for that, but it's beyond your empathetic capacity to deal with him being here and to let him into the house as well. “I just like it out here, it’s calm and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, whatever makes you feel comfortable; I know you don’t want me here any longer than I have to be..” he interrupts you as he sits down next to you, his one side pressing against the end of the stairs, where the railing begins. He places the contract between your bodies, on the wooden floor.

It makes you uncomfortable, his statement, you always want people to feel welcome and relaxed around you. You internally chastise yourself for worrying about his feelings instead of yours, but you can’t help it, it’s embedded in your DNA. “It’s OK, Joel, I don’t mind, we can talk.”

Joel nods, but he remains silent. You don’t break the silence, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He chuckles defeated, shaking his head while rubbing his hand over his face.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you don’t look that mighty to me anymore.” you blurt out before you can stop yourself and you immediately regret it. It didn’t sound so insulting in your head. You only meant to say that he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. Which is sort of a lie and a truth at the same time. You used to find him imposing, even his mere presence had the ability to make your skin crawl, your heart flutter and your words get catch in your dry throat, you were in awe of him. Every time you laid your eyes at him, even when you were straddling his lap or gazing at his profile as he slept beside you, you always felt as if you were looking up. You admired him.

His heart loses several beats to that. He can read between your lines now. He has lost your respect. Your admiration. The time when you looked up to him in awe is long gone.

“You know, my therapist warned me about this.”, he chuckles bitterly.

“Your-” you can’t hide your shocked expression from him as you search his eyes for any sign of him joking around, but you find none. “You’ve been in therapy?”

“Yeah, I-, I spent two years hating myself,” he chuckles deprecatingly, “and then I realized it was time for me to stop being an arrogant prick, so I spent another two doing it all over again with the help of my therapist.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that and it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his entire life. “OK, somebody’s off to a good start. Go on.”

“You mean about the therapy?”

“I mean about you admitting you are an arrogant prick”, you say playfully.

He really laughs now, his eyes crinkle up at the sides. You used to love that. You feel your heart warming up. “You can thank Maria for that.”

“For what?”

“For kicking my ass and pushing me to help myself.” Joel admits. “She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, she is.” you agree through your laughter, the image of Maria actually kicking Joel’s ass is priceless.

“I missed that sound.” Joel is looking at you softly, as if his gaze could break you.

“Hm.” you simply smile at him, not finding it in you to respond with a snide remark. The time for that feels like it has passed, like it’s irrelevant at this point. All you really want is to have an honest conversation, irony be damned.

You both look at your feet in silent consideration for a minute or two. “I thought you’d be mad at me.” Joel reveals.

You exhale through your nose, the edges of your mouth turning up in a gentle smile. “Four years is a long time to be mad at anyone, Joel. Even you don’t have that kind of power over me.”

“Good. I have enough burden on my shoulders as it is..”, he mumbles and you decide to change the subject.

How do you admit that you are still mad at him but in a different way? How do you describe the deep scar his existence has carved into your soul making it almost unbearable to even exist without him? How do you explain that you’ll always carry him with you, no matter what? How do you instill in him that you still believe in the best version of him, the best version you know he can be, the best version of him you once lived with. Yes, you’re not mad at him for the reasons he thinks you are. You’re mad at him because the way he made you love him is stronger than any hurt he’s ever caused you.

“So, what did your therapist warn you about?”

“She, uh- she tried to prepare me for this.”

“Oh? What did she say?”

“That I should not be prepared.”, he laughs in earnest. “That I should not obsess about what I want to say and just be open and have an honest interaction.”

“I like her, already.” you say with a straight face.

He smiles softly, looking down at his boots, while he rests his elbows on his knees, one palm encircling the other. “Yeah… I had some digging to do; I still do for that matter and will be for a long time it seems.”

“Anything you wanna share?” you reply, raising an eyebrow as if you had no idea why he was here.

“Oh, boy-” he squirms in his seat, already overwhelmed by the turn of the conversation, his chest almost vibrating with anxiety, he can barely swallow, small beads of sweat starting to form around his temples. You reluctantly reach for his forearm, trying to calm him down. “Hey, Joel?”

His whole body stiffens at your touch and he wishes his clothes would evaporate so he could feel your skin against his. He fixes his eyes on your delicate fingers lightly squeezing his tight muscles underneath the fabric. “The worst part has already happened four years ago, so-” you shrug, “just breathe.” Joel keeps his eyes on your hand, his heart rate dropping slightly; you ground him. You retract your arm and keep your hands to yourself in an effort to maintain a respectable distance between you. You shouldn’t have touched him at all.

“I think- I think I understand now.” he begins, still feeling the ghost of your touch on his forearm. “How I made you feel, what your words meant. You always did that, you know. And I found it so fascinating and so exhausting at the same time.”

You look at him, confused. Joel continues, “You always chose your words carefully. You had a reason for every single thing you said. In retrospect, I realized that you were handing me everything on a silver platter, but I was too self-absorbed to see it at the time.”

You nod in agreement, gesturing with your head for him to keep going.

Joel takes a deep breath, holding it inside his lungs for a while. His exhalation is controlled, measured. “Fuck. Okay. It was not just the fact itself. It was not just the cheatin’.”

Your stomach clenches violently at his words. The time has finally come and although you know what happened, you where there, when the words come out of Joel’s mouth it's as if you're pulled back to that threshold all over again. It really happened. You feel your hands sweating. “Go on.”, you pronounce carefully, already anxious your voice is going to betray you. You can do this.

“I don’t want to sound all full of myself-” Joel hesitates.

“You won’t.” you interrupt him with conviction. The truth has never frightened you. You welcome it. It feels like a form of catharsis, it feels like you’re finally being seen. Every nerve in your body is on fire. You’re ready for this, for the truth, if only he gives it to you. Please, set me free.

“I was your everything.” he whispers, almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting yours. You don’t respond to that, not until he looks at you, although the admission shoots straight through your heart. You stare at the side of his face, almost forcing him to turn to you. He does.

“You were.” Simple. True. Clear as the light of day.

“And I ripped that from you.”

“You did.”

“In the worst possible way.”

“Hmhm.”, you don’t trust the stability of your voice.

“And no matter what I say, I can never take back what I did. I humiliated you, our home, our relationship, everything. I-” his brows furrow in an expression of disgust, “I disrespected myself. I burned everything down. I left nothing for you to hold on to, nothing for me to hope for, nothing.”

His chin trembles and his voice wavers as he continues. “The words to describe how sorry I am have not yet been invented. And even if they had, they still couldn’t take the pain away; what’s done, is done.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on the railing. “I don’t know what I wish for anymore. That you had never met me, so you could be spared all this pain? But I can’t. I can’t wish that, because I’m so grateful to have met you. I married you, I had you. That is what has comforted me all these years, what has got me through all those sleepless nights.” He looks absolutely devastated, desperate.

It feels genuine, because he’s not directing it at you, he’s not trying to convince you, he’s not trying at all. “I have not thought about my pain or what I want from all this for a long time. All I pray for is-” his glistening eyes are searching frantically on the ground, his brows knitted together in a painful grimace. You rest your head on the palm of your hand, your elbow on your knee. Watching this moment like an outside observer, you realize that he's trying to live up to your standards, reminding you of a child trying to impress his parents, only to fail regardless of the outcome.

“Look, Joel, couples break up, divorce, all over the world, all the time. And I guess, they all thought their partners were their everything until they finally weren’t.”, you rationalize, putting everything that has happened into some kind of perspective. It is not the end of the world. It is the end of your world. He doesn’t have to carry this burden on his shoulders for eternity. All you need from him is to understand, to acknowledge what he's done to you, how broken you’ve been.

But if he acknowledges that, if he truly comprehends the tremendous pain he’s put you through, won’t all that anguish be transferred to him? Isn't it unbearable for a truly repentant man to know that he has deliberately caused so much pain?

“But, you see; I wanted that, I needed to be your everything.”

“It certainly fed your ego..” you grin at him.

“No, no- I craved that- that look on your face when your eyes were on me, like there was nothing else, no one else around you, but me. You drove me to be better, to move forward; I felt I had a purpose. You were my purpose.”

“Well I didn’t do much of a job then, did I?” you smile defeated.

“No, honey, this-” he’s determined to make you understand that it wasn't your fault, even if it is the last thing he is going to do. He licks his lips trying to formulate his thoughts, “-what happened, had nothing to do with you, I- I was just- I got in my head..”

You shake your head dismissively, “It’s a terrible burden to put people on a pedestal and expect them to-”

“But you see, baby, that’s the thing. You didn’t.”Joel dismisses your comment and if a bucket of ice-cold water was thrown over your head you wouldn’t feel so frozen. You search his eyes for meaning, because deep down it stings to hear that you could give more. Is that what he’s saying? You didn’t love him enough? Joel catches on and rushes to explain. “You-” god this is so hard, he’s struggling, can’t he just rip his heart open and let you examine it? “You loved me so much, baby and you never asked for anything in return. You let me be who I was. You accepted me completely. You set me free.” His eyes are blown wide, burning into yours with intensity. You look so lost, how does all this fit in with what he did then?

“Darlin’,” he expands further, “we live in a competitive world. Everyone aims to control each other, from business partners to lovers and spouses; everyone manipulates, everyone tries to tell you where to look, what to do, how to act, how to fuck, how to love. Except for you. You let me be. You put your heart in my hands and you set me free. And I took advantage of that and I am truly sorry. I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know. That’s how fucked up I am.” you look at him dumbfounded.

“I can’t connect the dots; I don’t get it, Joel, I’m sorry, I-” you run your fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp in frustration. What does he mean?

Joel winces mid-sentence because he can’t escape what’s coming. This is his last resort. And he knows it is going to sound cruel and he doesn’t even mean the first part the way you're going to perceive it, but for lack of better words, for lack of the better person he could have been, a person who should have never put you in this position in the first place, here goes.

“She made me feel wanted; you made me feel free.”,

he spits out in a hurry, praying to whatever god is listening, that you won’t even catch it, knowing full well that these may be the last words you'll ever let him speak to you.

You are utterly, completely, perfectly shocked.

Then you feel it for the first time in what feels like ages. That old friend consuming you. Rage. It burns your lungs, twists your guts and pierces your heart like a thousand needles. Everything becomes crystal clear. You’re so infuriated, that your mind goes blank. A million words and nothing at all come to your mind simultaneously.

“Let me- let me rephrase that, because actually it was never even about her, I just-” Joel begins, in a vain attempt to stop the tide from crushing you both.

Your palms become clenched fists in front of your mouth, pressing against it, crushing the velvety skin of the inside of your lips against your teeth until you draw blood, in an effort to control yourself. You inhale sharply, keeping your eyes fixed on the land in front of you, blurred by the tears gathering in your waterline.

“She- what?” are the only words you manage to choke out.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter, it was never about her, she was a means to an end and-” your eyes bulge out of your sockets at the statement, “I know- I know how that sounds- just-” his palms come together in a prayerful gesture, begging you to give him a chance to explain.

“A means to an- what the fuck are you talking about, Joel?” the veins on your forehead swell under your skin, creating a map of the river of wrath flowing aggressively through your body.

“It was never an affair sweetheart, but a transaction; one I initiated. She was only a boost to my ego.”

..she made me feel wanted..

..a boost to my ego..

It's all starting to make sense now, and it's the last thing you expect to be confronted with. You've always imagined either a heated affair, a secret love story, him realizing he had found his soul mate in someone else, or him getting bored with you, finding you too much or too emotional or too unlovable. It turns out that you were accused of the one thing you never were.

“Are you-, oh god,” you can hear your heart pounding in your ears now and it takes every ounce of strength not to vomit, “are you saying that you fucked someone else; you fucked your secretary for fuck’s sake, you fuckin’ cliché of a man, because I wasn’t jealous of you?”. Your throat is so swollen, you try to scream your words at him but they only come out in wrenched whispers.

You stand up abruptly, dizziness causing you to close your eyes tightly as you see a million white dots behind the blackness of your eyelids. Your whole body vibrates with rage. You steady yourself on the railing and then begin to pace back and forth, your hands unable to stay motionless, but moving over your face, through your hair, lowering and squeezing the sides of your waist as you lean slightly forward in a subconscious way to soothe yourself.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god,” you laugh hysterically now, as angry tears run down your cheeks, as if you've been let in on an inside joke. “It’s my fault, everything is my fault-”

Joel is frozen in place, he’s not sure if he should get up and try to reason with you or stay where he is.. or run for the hills. He’s witnessing the unleashing of a caged animal. His tongue feels heavy and numb in the cavern of his mouth but he dares to speak again, “That’s the exact opposite of what I said, sweetheart,” he tries to explain in vain, “I’m sorry if that’s what I-” but you’re not listening to a single word he utters.

“People kept telling me, urging me on, all my life;” and you slap your palms on the sides of your thighs, looking at his direction, but not really looking, “I should be more controlling, more pushy, more..” your voice begins to fade, muttering to yourself through your teeth. “They warned me, you know, that the lack of pressure in any kind of relationship would be perceived as a lack of interest.”

Don't trust completely; hold something back; men like the illusion of power; show them you need them; make them jealous; be jealous, like a manual to a pre-installed setting.

Do you agree to the Terms & Conditions?

Press ‘Enter.’

“But I didn’t listen. I never listened. Because in what world do we choose a leash over freedom?” You turn to look at him now, addressing him as if you were talking to a third party, an outsider, asking for advise or affirmation.

Maria’s words come back to Joel’s mind, words that he had long forgotten about, finally fitting like missing pieces of a puzzle to the bigger picture.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”

“I was really stupid, was I not? What on earth made me think that this time would be any different, what made me think that you’d be any different? You’re just- you’re just another man-” you spit your vile angrily as your eyes sweep over him. The look in his eyes is devastated, he feels shuttered, reduced to nothing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl. When the fuck will I learn? When the fuck am I going to accept that I don't really belong? When?”

Joel is staring at you bewildered, he never felt more helpless in his life. A thousand new thoughts and questions form in your head, things you didn’t even begin to imagine would cross your mind.

“Did you use her?” you ask with renewed vigor, a surge of energy running through your body.

Joel’s cheeks burn with humiliation but he has already admitted it once, what will it do to him to say it one more time? “Yes, I never had any feelings f-”

“No,” you interrupt impatiently, you don't care about his feelings right fuckin' now, “that night, did you use her? On purpose?”

Joel looks lost for a second but the cogs in his head finally turn and “NO! No baby, I wasn’t even aware of you coming home earlier than expected, no. Don’t even entertain this idea; it wasn’t intentional, I swear to god.”

Oh. There’s a new question for Joel. Why did you leave your business trip early? He had never thought about it before, solely focused on everything else that had happened, which now made him wonder, “Did you- did you know?”

“What?” you frown, lost in your own thoughts, not following his line of logic.

“Did you know? Is that why you came back early from your trip?”

You’re still a bit too far gone in your head to think clearly and try to prevent the next question from coming, “Of course I didn’t know, Joel, did it look like I did?” is all you say with a bite, annoyed.

“Then why-” Joel insists, pressuring you for an answer, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“I- fuck- I need a minute.” you declare and start to walk towards the house.

Joel waited on that porch for almost an hour, watching the sun set behind the mountain, afraid to move, barely breathing in case you stormed out and threw him back where he came from as if him standing still would somehow make him part of the landscape; as if he belonged.

And you certainly delivered.

He hears the screen door open, his back still to the house. You are standing behind him, your arms crossed stiffly over your chest, your face tilted down, to avoid his gaze. He could see the red-rimmed and swollen eyes of yours, despite your efforts to hide them.

“I can’t do this-”

“Please,” his whole face contorts in agony, “please, hear me-” you both speak at the same time.

“-tonight.”

“What?” his voice matching the look of confusion on his face.

“Maybe another time, but not tonight.”

“I-” he doesn’t know how to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. He drove all this way, four hours straight, to finally get things straight. His brain has short-circuited, unable to put a plan into action. Should he check into a hotel or a motel or whatever the fuck is around here in the middle of nowhere? Should he go back to his place? Do you really want to talk again? You sort of said you did. You said maybe. Fuck. What does he do?

But honestly, what did he expect? That this would be over in the course of one evening? Of course he would have to come back. His eyes are fixed on yours like a deer caught in the headlights. “I came all this way-” he mumbles, choking on the last part, already regretting the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, too bad.” you spit emotionless as you turn and head for the safety of your house, leaving him stunned on the goddamn porch.

Joel returned the next evening, but you weren't there. He made the four hour journey and came back empty-handed. And you weren't there the next evening, or the evening after that. But he kept on driving the miles, hot wheels under the Texas sun. He didn’t check in anywhere near your small town. He went back home and then back to you again.

The last time he found nothing but a closed door, he finally got the message, so the next time he left the house, before he turned on the ignition, he texted you, as a sign of respect for your boundaries.

Is it all right if I come and see you?

Backspacebackspacebackspace

Is it OK if I come and talk?

And the answer was

Not today.

So, every day he texted you. He didn’t mean to be intrusive, he just wanted to remind you that you were never far from his thoughts, that he was always ready and eager to finish what he started.

You denied him for quite some time. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him again. The confessions he made have knocked you off your axis. Just when you finally felt like everything was falling into place, he dropped this bombshell, making you rethink everything you thought you knew and had sorted out in your mind. You just couldn’t wrap your head around what you’d heard coming out of his mouth. How could he think like that? Why couldn’t he just talk to you? You used to talk about everything; what the fuck happened? How did you not see that coming?

You were sure that he would give up, that he would stop bothering to contact you at all. Was it the monster of self-deprecation? Was it a deep disappointment in human beings and their general lack of persistence in trying to nurture and repair a relationship, or at least trying to give it a proper closure? You didn’t give it much thought afraid of the answer you might get. But you kept saying Not today, until one day, for some reason-

Can we talk?

Yes.

Joel’s heart is beating through his chest so rapidly, he has to cough to regain some of his composure. He almost drops his phone, trying to confirm the most convenient time for you before you change your mind.

That was the first Yes after the day you saw him again. You weren’t sure what you wanted to talk about; if you could pick up exactly where you left off. You weren’t even sure you could look him in the eye again, but you had to see this through.

When you hear the sound of his engine and tires on the dirt road, you take a deep breath and walk out of the house to wait for him on the porch.

“Come on in, I’m cooking dinner.” you announce as you open the screen door for him to enter the house.

“Are you sure?”, Joel is taken aback, he thought the inside of your house was strictly off-limits to him. You were also cooking dinner as if he was an old friend visiting you. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should lower his defenses or not but with the way you looked tonight you didn’t give him much of a choice.

You’re wearing a pair of warm cream jeans, paired with a white front tie shirt, the first few buttons left open, giving him a glimpse of your tanned sternum. It almost looks like a man’s shirt, just messily tied up over your soft skin, revealing bits of your stomach. Could it be another man’s shirt?

You are barefoot. The nails of your toes are painted in a fresh glossy black color. Your hair is casually tied up in a messy bun, loose strands falling around your beaming face. Joel has to restrain himself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you on the spot, by clenching and unclenching his fists. His mouth is salivating at the sight of you, excitement building in his groin. It's been so long since he's felt this way, a different kind of hunger is growing in him at a rapid pace, as if something buried deep inside his masculinity has just awakened from hibernation.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you quirk back at him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, what you’re both doing. “I’m starving. Coming?” you leave him at the entrance and go back into the house.

“You have a beautiful home.”, Joel admits as he takes in his surroundings, thinking that this is going better than he expected. He also can't help but prepare himself for the fact that this might not end the same way.

“Thank you.” you laugh nervously.

“What?”, he catches the note of disbelief in your voice. “I'm serious, the light is just right, it’s open and warm; it actually reminds me of you.” he says matter-of-factly.

“No, no, I know you mean it, it’s just- I guess it’s high praise, coming from you.” you admit. You always admired what he did for a living and how good he was at it and him seeing your place for the first time gave you another reason to feel kind of nervous.

“Oh, come on, none of that now.” he dismisses the compliment, his voice wavering slightly at the praise.

“Well it’s true, you are excellent at what you do, I mean, the house you built is a work of art and that’s a fact.”

“Which one?”, although he knows exactly which one, he presses on.

“The one we used to live in, together.” You can’t call it your house. You cannot. The mere thought of it makes your tongue feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh.”, Joel smiles as he presses his lips together in a thin line, “You mean our house. It was built out of love, that's why. It's the one I'm most proud of.”

“Hm.”, is all you give him. Déjà vu brings back memories out of the closet -pun intended- for both of you.

“Ok, now you really have to tell me. What is it?”, Joel crosses his forearms over his chest. He has to know.

“What do you mean?”, you try to buy some more time, cause you’re not so sure you want to go in there.

“You had the exact same reaction when I mentioned that, four years ago.”

“Ah, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It’s just- it always felt like it reflected your personality rather than mine. Or at least ours.”

Joel looks at you perplexed.

“I’m not complaining, I mean, how many people can claim that their husband built them a house the size of a small hotel as a wedding present?” you chuckle while you continue as nonchalantly as you can muster, “I would have lived in a cave with you, Joel, you didn’t have to go to these lengths to house two people. If you want my honest opinion, this was an ego project. I let it slide because it made you happy. And I liked you happy.” Joel looks stunned, his eyes darting back and forth between yours.

“Baby, I- I wanted to make you happy, to give you the best I could-”

“Joel, I’m not judging you. I am not. But you didn’t show me a single blueprint while you were designing the damn thing. You didn’t ask me what I wanted or how I imagined it. Sure, you equipped it with all the best stuff money could buy, but you never asked me what I thought about it. Not really.”, you see the hurt in his eyes and it unsettles you, but now the rabbit is out of the hat. “Again, I’m not judging you and I’m not being ungrateful, all I’m saying is that for some reason you needed your shinny new wife to live in a shinny new castle. It was a prestige thing. Just think about it.”

“Jesus..” Joel mutters, pinching the sides of his forehead with one hand, feeling defeated.

“Hey,” you give him a wry look, “I tried to avoid answering that question for four years. You were the one who insisted.” you defend yourself, clearly amused by his reaction.

“What else do I need to know?”, Joel wonders in a desperate manner.

“Well.. for how long can you keep coming back?” you joke absentmindedly.

“For the rest of my life..” Joel answers a little too quickly, not a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Your heart tightens at his eagerness, forcing you to admit a consideration that you have had more than a few times before. “You know,” you look over at him, lost in thought, almost like reminiscing, “sometimes I wish I had met you before your company took off.” You snap out of your daydream and consciously look at him and he looks pained as if some kind of realization has hit him. You change the subject for the sake of both of you. “Anyway, speaking of which, how is work? I heard you closed that deal, after all.” you grin mischievously.

“Yeah, I did.”, his voice takes on a strange timbre, almost like regret. But you’re not so sure about anything these days, so you let it pass. He puts the envelope with the contract on the counter in the kitchen and sits down in the chair next to the table already set for dinner.

“Good, that’s good. Let me guess, you’re all over it? First in, last out? Is it almost done?” you word vomit to cover your nervousness.

“Uh,” Joel rubs the back of his neck, “I wouldn’t know.” is all he gives you, clearly trying to avoid getting involved in the discussion.

“Um, you don’t know?”, you laugh lightly in confusion. “How is that possible?”, you ask stirring the vegetables in the pan.

“I’m not involved in the project and I have no idea about the status of the construction;” Joel answers your question and continues, revealing, “I quit. Sold my shares and got out.”

“Yeah,” you draw the vowels, still not looking in his direction, “right. Big, mighty Joel Miller left his enterprise-” you laugh mockingly, but you are met with silence. “You’re joking, right?” You turn to look at him, not believing what you have just heard. You feel your blood freeze in your veins.

Joel shakes his head in denial, “I’ve actually left the city and the only reason I haven’t sold every asset in my name is in case you want to claim any of them. They’re all yours if you want ‘em.” Your mouth is slightly agape, as you try to process what has just been delivered to you.

You open your mouth to protest but he beats you to it, by raising his hand to stop you. “I know you don’t want anything from me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want them either. Not without you. Just take them. Burn them for all I care, liquidate them and use the money as you see fit.”, Joel insists, trying to find ways to convince you.

“You can do that yourself, Joel.” is all you say; you don’t give a damn about his money. Joel nods and leaves it at that, he knows better than to talk about money right now.

You’re curious where he lives now, but you’re not sure it’s appropriate to ask, so you don’t. You prepare dinner and make small talk about simple things like your lives over the past four years. Joel asks you about the ranch, the horses, the chores; you ask him about Tommy and Maria, their newborn son, whom you haven't had a chance to meet yet. None of you dare to break the bubble of normality in which you have effortlessly found yourselves.

It feels like coming home after a long day, the way you both fall into a comfortable silence. Joel speaks your name softly, drawing your attention and your gaze back to him. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re eating?” Just a little longer, let me have it just a little longer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “no, I mean, what are we doing?” he gestures with his fingers between him and you.

You look at him and then at your plate, playing around with your food, lost in thought. How do you acknowledge that? How do you confess that you’re trying to stretch time? How do you admit that you’re scared out of your mind of how it's all going to end? How do you even come to terms with the fact that you’re not sure you want any of this to end? How do you accept how natural it feels to have him back in your life? How do you admit that after four years the pain has never stopped, but the force, the roughness of it has changed into something softer, yet persistent; never quite going away, lingering.

How do you admit that all the good memories are emerging, because that’s what the mind does, that’s how it protects you, that’s how it helps you survive another day, that’s how it tricks you into falling back into a comfortable routine with him. Even if what binds you together now is his betrayal. How do you admit that you’re afraid of what will become of you once you've finished confessing your truths?

Will he cease to exist for you? Will you cease to exist for him? Will he ever bother to contact you again? Do you really want him to? Will you matter to him or will he move on, start again and shake off the last vestiges of your life together?

Or maybe- maybe he has moved on with his life and that's why he's doing all this, putting all this effort into it. Maybe he is preparing a new, clear path for himself and whoever is in his life right now. Is it her? Is it still, her?

You’re spiraling, lost in your thoughts, biting your lower lip anxiously, like a snake eating its own tail. “Baby?” his baritone voice snaps you out of it, he must have called you several times before you heard him, suddenly aware of hot, fat tears streaming down your face, his thumbs gently brushing them from your cheeks.

You let out a shuddering breath; it’s the first time he’s touched you, in so, so long. And here he is again. The familiar, old friend. He’s pounding on your door now, relentless as he is, screaming for you to let him in, lead the way, take charge, take care of you. You can almost feel his maniacal banging, vibrating through your chest, let me in, let me in, let me in.

Let me in, better angry than scared.

Better angry than scared.

Your shoulders slump, your head feels unbearably heavy. The world has stopped moving. The world is moving too fast. You savor his features as he leans further in, his intoxicating scent filling your nostrils, his eyes pleading, the brown of his irises inviting you to let him in. Joel’s face is that of a man still in love as he continues to caress your skin and you let him.

You let him, because you are a weak person.

You let him because you have been deprived of his touch, of any touch really, for far too long.

You let him because you want to have something for yourself, selfishly.

You let him, because for once you just want to take. Take, take, take.

You let him because you just want to be held and touched and loved.

And even though your mind knows that you shouldn’t want all that from him, your heart allows you that little moment.

“Joel, I’m tired.” you begin, your voice breaking as fresh tears run down your face and onto his thumbs. “Tired to my bones. All I want is to be honest with each other. Do you think we can do that? Can we talk like two adults with nothing left to lose? Can we just be truthful to each other? I know there’s too much history between us, too much hurt and resentment but we both have to try and put it all behind us. I can’t go on like this.”

There’s a stillness in him, realization and clarity dawning on him. He thinks he understands now and it shocks him somehow, as a fact, that there are still things to uncover, to revel in, to acknowledge. Every time he thinks he’s reached the end of this journey, a new sun rises over the horizon.

You don’t need the specifics of his action, at least not right now, or not anymore. What you need is closure. True, honest closure. And that can only come from him baring himself to you. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. We can do anything you want, baby.”, he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing where to begin, but resisting the thought. He leans back in his seat, dropping his hands from your face as he lets out the breath he seems to be holding in and begins.

“Remember that night before your business trip when you came to my office?”

“Uh, yeah? I guess.”, what a strange thing to mention, you think confused. “What about it?”

“You came to me for sex.”, Joel says bluntly, no need to beat around the bush. This is it. This is how he loses you. Once again.

You stare at him and then, for some reason, look down in embarrassment. You’ve fucked him in almost every way you can think of and now the very admission of that fact makes you feel like an exposed nerve. It dawns on you, how far away this era has slipped away. You feel vulnerable as if you’re talking to a total stranger about your most intimate moments. At the same time, you still know exactly how to touch him, how to please him and a light warmth begins to shimmer inside you.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it, but- yeah..”, you admit, still nervously picking at your food with your fork.

Joel sees your apprehension but he presses on. This is what you asked for. “And I refused you.” The look on your face betrays your confusion. Where is he going with this? Only now, he sees more. He can finally see more. The hurt. The disappointment. “What happened next?” is his next question and does he really think that you can remember all these years later? Does he honestly believe that you can recall yourself leaving his office defeated and crying yourself to sleep? “I don’t remember.” you lie, shrugging your shoulders as convincingly as you can muster.

“You said you loved me and then you left.”, Joel reminds you.

“You- you remember all that?”, your eyes are wide and the look on your face vulnerable, Joel wants to pause it all and hold you in his arms.

“I can’t seem to forget anything about you,” he reveals, “believe me, I’ve tried.”

“What’s your point?”

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh.. why did I do what?”, you narrow your eyes in confusion.

His eyes are piercing yours, provoking you to figure it out on your own.

“Loved you?” He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

Your eyes widen again, in surprise this time, as you finally see what he means.

“Walked away?” You’re fucking shocked to the core, your voice choked, you’re not sure you spoke out loud.

“Why didn’t you insist?”

Your mouth is wide open, you’re speechless, you flatter your eyelids in search of the right words. This is your second encounter and once again he says what you least expect him to say.

“You refused” you remind him now, “and I respected that.”, your hand moves to rest on your chest, palm open, to calm your racing heart.

“I didn’t want you to.”

“You know how that sounds, don’t you?”, you mock with a nervous laugh.

“Oh, please,” Joel is quick to respond, his brows knitted in a dismissive frown, “like you could ever force yourself on me.”

You genuinely are at a loss for words, your gaze unable to stay in one place, your mind running a million miles an hour.

Apparently you both are, because Joel is no better at explaining how he feels. “I wanted you to-”, he stops, his eyes still searching yours for the right words, pleading with you to feel him.

Oh my god. Oh. My. God.

It dawns on you. All at once. You see it all playing out. You know exactly how this conversation is going to go. “-claim you? You wanted me to claim you?”, your voice rises, as does your tone. You feel the presence of your abandoned friend again. You don’t want him here. But he creeps in through your veins, nonetheless. He is not giving up. If the pounding doesn’t work then he’ll poison you, slowly and persistently.

“From who? You were supposed to be mine!”, you exclaim exasperated, immediately correcting yourself “-not that I owned you, you know what-”

“That! That’s what I’m talking about!” Joel points his finger at you, “That’s what I needed. To be yours!”

“But you were! Are we really haggling over semantics? Of course you were mine! I just never wanted you to feel suffocated by me. You were not my possession Joel, you were my partner!”

“I swear to you, I would die a happy man, baby.”

“I- I tried so hard to control myself-” you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back to your head as you shake it in denial, “-all that hunger inside of me, eating me up-”

“What?” is Joel’s turn to look like a lost puppy. What the fuck is going on here?

“You,” you point a finger at him, “you were my first and last thought every passing day, it wasn’t even healthy anymore, Joel. But- I saw that look in your eyes sometimes, a hunger, one I thought mirrored mine and then it was gone in the blink of an eye and I thought that something was holding you back; I- I was holding you back. I thought- maybe I was undeserving..” you divert your eyes from him, embarrassed at your feeling of inadequacy, “So, I accepted what you gave me if it meant I could have any part of you.”

“Oh, baby..” Joel’s hiding his face in his palms and his heart breaks as he realizes where you both stand. How did the two of you get to this point? How could his judgment be so clouded, how could he be so blind to what was happening under his own roof? How could he be so arrogant as to seek validation, one he didn't even need, from someone else? Someone whose validation he didn't even care about. It didn't matter to him. She didn’t matter to him. How could he not sense the insecurity tantalizing your very core to the point of feeling inadequate? If only you had told him sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you mirror his thoughts with your voice.

“What should I say to you? I couldn’t put it into words, even now I'm not sure I can. It was an all-consuming feeling, an absolute necessity, an overwhelming need that was impossible to handle. I wasn’t mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with it. I loved you with such force that it became an obsession. I couldn’t even entertain the idea that you might not want me back in the same way. I felt helpless, vulnerable. How could I come to terms with this? With the realization that I had fucked someone else just to get a rise out of you or to prove to myself that I didn't need you that much after all?”

Joel’s palms are clenched into fists on his thighs, trying to keep himself from pressing his lips against yours. Feelings and desires that had been buried in his subconscious for too long came back as he tried to make you understand.

“A r- so, you did fuck her on our bed on purpose.”

“You asked me that before, darlin’, I promise you I did not.”

“Then how would you provoke me if you didn’t mean for me to find out?” you look at him incredulously.

“I-” Joel winces, “it wasn’t a conscious thought, I just kept fantasizing about you finding out and burning the house down for me and that single image made me so h-” Joel shuts his mouth abruptly, not the best idea to describe to you how fuckin’ hard he got, fantasizing about you while fucking someone else. You, bursting into the bedroom all raging and furious, turning the whole place upside down reclaiming what was rightfully yours.

Him.

What a sick fuck he was. “I swear to you, no. I’m not that fucked up. It was a gigantic lack of judgment, I was fuckin’ drunk, my mind was a mess at that point. That whole week was-” he’s biting his tongue hard to stop himself while rubbing his forehead with his fingers, “I was just being an idiot.”

“The week I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, ‘snothing.” and he doesn’t elaborate. “Just a bad fuckin’ week.”

The atmosphere suddenly feels suffocating, as if all the words that have spilled out of both your mouths are hovering over your heads like a black cloud. You need some air to clear your mind, so you make your way out of the kitchen without looking back and walk slowly to the porch, sitting on the steps at the bottom of the stairs. You know he will follow. Your bare feet touch the soft soil beneath you and you try to ground yourself through the little patch of earth you call your own. It doesn’t quite work. There’s a beautiful golden glow, a last gift from the parting sun, warming your soul. Everything is going to be all right.

“Strange fantasies we both had.” you say as Joel seats down next to you, the contract once again a barrier between you. “You kept fantasizing about me finding out about your affair-”.

“It wasn’t an affair-” Joel corrects you. “Fine, fine. You imagined that, while I kept fantasizing me holding you so tightly while we fucked that our flesh became one; that’s how deep I needed you inside me, that’s how obsessively I wanted to carry you with me all the time, isn’t that totally fucked up?” you laugh dejectedly.

“I guess we are the same kind of fucked up. If only we could admit it to each other..”

“Did you really feel that I didn’t love you enough?” you whisper, almost too scared to be heard and to get an answer.

“I think we loved each other too much. I think we were both too afraid of losing each other. I think,” Joel pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts and calm his voice, “in our efforts to keep each other we did the exact opposite. More me than you, for sure. I have handled things badly and badly is an understatement.”

“You were always so patient with me. You’d always wait for me to come to you, to take my time. I needed the savage in you, or I thought I did at the time. That desperate thing I felt creeping out of you in stolen glances or bitten lips between your teeth, or when we fucked; no one has ever fucked me like you did. I did see all of you then, you know. And I think you saw all of me. If I made you feel confident or safe enough, you would have talked to me. And if I wasn’t so self-absorbed I would have asked.”

You never thought you’d hear these words from Joel, but all this time of self-reflection has changed him in a way that reminds you of the Joel you fell in love with. The one you could see behind all those layers of self-protection, the one you’d always hoped would emerge for you. And then he goes on, and you wish you knew what was coming so you could protect your heart from being torn to shreds.

“Maybe-” he closes his eyes looking pained, “maybe I was a narcissist. Maybe you gave me all you had and I kept wanting more, maybe I needed every part of you for myself. Maybe I needed you on your knees, on a leash, at my mercy, just to have the illusion of the certainty that you would never leave me. Maybe freedom is for those who can bear it, after all. Hell, maybe I was the one who needed the leash in the end. Maybe you gave me too much credit, my love, when you deemed me worthy of freedom.”

His words are earth-shuttering, obliterating, final. There’s nothing left to be said, at least nothing of substance. Final. The fucking word plays over and over in your head. Final. This is final. You could swear that you have felt every possible kind of pain during these four long years but new depths of agony are being discovered right now. The acid in your stomach makes your throat constrict. You feel petrified.

Joel can sense your distress, his words have been of no comfort to you. Your skin looks pale, covered with a thin layer of cold sweat; you look physically ill. Your forearms rest on your knees and he gently cups your elbow to check in on you. Are you OK? You smile weakly at him, the expression not reaching the corners of your eyes.

“You know I would give anything to take it all back, right?”

Your laughter is more lively now, not with malice or sarcasm, but with a sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I do.”, you shake your head in twisted amusement, tilting your head up, to let the last rays of the sun warm your face, maybe bring back some of your lost color. It's getting dark now, the day is coming to an end, the curtains of the last sunlight are almost closed. Your eyes are closed too, your head still tilted back as you laugh to yourself, “You did that backwards, too, you know.”

“What?”

“You have burned everything to the ground, only to realize that you want to get it all back in one piece. I mean it’s- it’s-” you struggle to find the right words but Joel offers one of his own.

“Ridiculous..”

“I was gonna say pointless.. But that’s the thing, Joel. Choosing to be with someone is like faith. You believe because you just know. You don't have to find evidence to prove your choice at every turn, otherwise it’s just exhausting. You choose to trust yourself.”

“Trust me as your partner, you mean, not yourself.”

“Joel, it was never about trusting you..”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..”

“I’m not sure how to explain it- uh..”, you raise your shoulders and your brows in unison as you shake your head slightly, searching for the words. “Trust is a personal journey. ‘Trust’ doesn't mean ‘trust in you’, I’m not trusting you. No one can be sure of anyone. ‘Trust’ means that I have faith in myself, that even if you hurt me, even if you abandon me, I will not fall apart. And..” you shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself with your hands, “look at me, Joel..”, you finish, suggesting that you’re still here, still standing.

“I am, baby; I am..” Joel replies, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last time he’ll ever have the chance to, utterly compelled by your inner glow.

“I’m not mad at you Joel, not anymore. And I believe you, I really do. But I can’t get that scene out of my head. I just can’t. I can still hear the sounds, I can even recall the way you smelled when you were standing next to me.”

His hands are shaking.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, really.”

“I know.”, his voice is barely audible.

“I think you’ve done enough of that yourself. Maybe it’s time to forgive yourself?”

“Do you?” Do you, really? Do you forgive him after all that has been said? Do all these confessions illuminate the facts from a different perspective? Does it change what he did and what you went through? And if so, does that mean you're letting him go? Are you leaving him behind? Is he leaving you behind? Why is it so hard to let go? Why do you choose the safety of the known, even when it hurts you?

You choose not to answer and instead firmly insist, “You have to forgive yourself, Joel, it’s okay.” Be the better person. If not for him, then for yourself. Let him go.

“I can’t do that.”, Joel is adamant, shaking his head while he rejects your request.

“Yes, you can.” you urge him again. “As I can and do.” Let him go.

Joel never thought he would listen to those words coming out of your mouth. He doesn’t deserve them. He hasn’t earned them. “You forgive me?”, he repeats in utter shock and disbelief.

“Yes.” Loud and clear as daylight.

“I- You can’t- I don’t- I don’t deserve that.” Joel feels like he’s drowning in your so graciously offered Holy Grail, desperately trying to keep his head above the waters of your absolution.

“I can’t be the judge of that, Joel, hell, I can’t be the judge of anyone. The way I see it, you chose your actions and I chose mine. You chose to hurt me and I chose to walk away. We both lost something. Have we not suffered enough, Joel?” you ask him honestly.

“I don’t want to presume, but- isn’t it a great burden to carry on your shoulders when you try to move on? All this anger, all that bitterness?” you search his eyes for an answer but he doesn’t give you one.

You continue, hoping to get through to him. “Your feelings are your burden Joel and it doesn’t matter if I forgive you. That’s why it is you who needs to forgive yourself.”

His eyes still refuse to meet yours, stubbornly glued to the ground. “I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this for me. We need to move forward, both of us.” is the last thing you say to him, not knowing if he even listened to half of what you just said.

You both fall into a thoughtful silence, but something you said is bugging him. He can’t quite figure it out, so he turns to look at you, to savor you while he still has the chance. He knows that his time is limited.

You’re just sitting there with him, trying to comfort him, you of all people. You seem lighter now, fidgeting absentmindedly with your fingers as if some of your burden has already been lifted. And as his gaze sweeps over you, he sees it again. He sees the white shirt hugging your body and he knows what’s troubling him.

I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume, I don’t want to presume.

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, panic rising inside him.

“I’ve been with you for the last four years.”

“Excuse me?” your hands freeze as you turn to face him, clearly confused.

“You said you didn’t want to presume anything and I need to set the record straight. There was and is no other woman in my life except you.”

“Joel,” you blush shyly, “this is none of my business, you are free-”

“No. No. I need you to know this, it’s important to me. I meant everything I said. You have done nothing wrong. My feelings for you have never changed-”

“Joel, please..” you beg him to stop, you can’t have this conversation now, it’s too soon. No, you’re wrong. It’s too late; too soon means there’s a future ahead of you. A future where you both fit in the same universe.

“I don’t want you to think that I came all the way out here just to tie up some loose ends and move on. That is not what this is about.”

“If you expect me to tell you about my personal life..” your what now?

“No, I don’t. And I don’t think I could handle it, anyway. You are a free woman and you deserve the world. Unlike me; I don’t deserve anything and I’ll never be free of you.”

Your chin is now trembling and you bite your lower lip to stop the involuntary muscle contraction. You can’t decipher if it’s from anger for the way things came to be or from deep, excruciating sadness for how Joel feels. For how he makes you feel.

“Free woman, huh?”, you whisper bitterly, looking down at your feet, willing yourself not to cry.

“Yes, free, as you should always have been and I’m sorry I couldn’t see it sooner.”

Joel then picks up the divorce papers from the floor next to him as he’s fishing a pen out of his pocket. He stares at you and then at the blank space where his signature should be, next to yours. He splays his palm over the last page as if to straighten it out, but it almost looks like he’s caressing it. He brings the ball of the pen to the white surface and for a moment his hand lingers over it. He doesn’t dare look at you again, his resolve is not that strong. Finally, finally he signs, filling the empty spot and he hands you the contract. It’s a strange moment, the one before the signature and the one after it.

Everything seems to be the same; it is just a signature.

Everything feels completely different; it is not just a signature.

Your fingertips brush his as you reach out to take it, the touch sending shivers down your spine. Your slightly trembling hands hold the papers gently, not sure you wanna hold on to them or scatter them on the ground. Your thumb swipes softly over his signature.

You feel it, now. You feel the ground beneath your bare feet, the warmth of the earth, the weight of your footing. The falling has stopped. The feather finally rests. You have landed.

Joel moves to stand on his feet, as you keep staring at the drying ink, when you feel something fall from above onto your thumb; but you can’t see anything as it is immediately absorbed by the hungry pores of the paper, slightly smudging his signature. You look up to catch him as he dries his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Free as a bird, baby, ready to fly over the world.”, Joel smiles at you with a look of reverence and devotion in his eyes.

You picture the floating feather in your head and smile back at him with a serenity he hasn’t seen in a long time.

“I think I just want to walk for a while. One step at a time.”

He nods, his eyes still full of emotion and you watch as he begins to walk slowly towards his truck, when suddenly he turns his body to face you but continues to walk backward in the same direction.

“Hey!” he calls to you with a mischievous smile, raising his chin to you.

“Yeah?” you answer, your voice wavering slightly as you try to hide your smile.

“Can I take you to dinner sometime?” he asks as he reaches for his driver’s door and opens it, waiting for your answer, which never comes because you think he’s joking. But he continues to stare at you, with no expectations, quietly, earnestly, sincerely, with a soft, shy smile on his lips. Oh.

Oh.

“Joel..” is all you breathe out, closing your eyes for a moment before you look at him again, because his name is all that is left in your very being right now. Joel.

He seems lighter, too.

“Maybe, one day..?”

“Yeah.. Maybe, one day..”

previous |

Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre @leggtostandon @sarahhxx03

@zliteraturehoe @msmorningstaarr @gossipgirl-03 @vabeachazn @joeldjarin

@sofiparallel

[f4irycafe]

long time no see freak hoes 😏

rn im thinking about eren and black reader who are this tik tok i saw. if ur friend has a man (cough like sasha and niko) he’ll be friendly but he’s really only here for you and the drinks. because when yall get home 😼 he knows that after a tense car ride in the uber and walk up to his apartment that his mouth will be on yours immediately, kissing you just as you were about to speak. the words obviously caught in your throat as you kiss him back. he learns forward for more, you watch his lips chase yours as you pull your head back and open your eyes.

“not yet” you say with a giggle, skipping backwards further into his apartment towards his bedroom as he stalks towards you.

“c’mere,” eren grunts out as he shoots out an arm to attempt to grab you. he fails, instead watching as you scamper into the bedroom. he slowly follows after you, taking his time to close the door.

if you wanted to be tease, he’d gladly go the extra mile just to show you how petty he was willing to be for this little delay.

it was your turn to be needy, your french tip manicured nails reaching for the back of his neck before being stopped by his much larger hands.

“not yet,” he said, repeating your earlier statement you. fawkkkkkkkkk. yeah im done, you thought as you watched him take his time traveling down your body, pulling away whenever your breathe hitched at his touch.

by the time he was finished with his little show, he was kneeling infront of the bed, your legs hoisted and locked around his shoulders, his long arms holding your hips against his face.

“look at me.” he whispered against you, the cold air causing your pussy to clench. eren laughed. you hid your face in the pillow, but your man was having none of it. he gently smacked your thigh, repeating his words until you finally looked at him.

he spent ten minutes down there just going the fuck at it. like that’s the only way i can describe it yall he ate 🙌🏾 by the time he was finished his nose down was covered in your juices. the way he slurped up the last of what he could before wiping your cum from his face with the back of your hand was enough to make you squirt a little just from the sight. he smiled and quickly rubbed your pussy, watching as you squeezed and squirted for him simple by looking at him.

“such a good fucking girl. cums just by looking at me hmm?” he says just as much.

“y-you’re so fucking hot” you say as you grab at his hands. his moves you up the bed before swiftly taking off his pants and climbing on top of you. the reason he stays down there so long, aside from his own pleasure, is so that he can do this.

he’s already hard you see as you watch him wet his dick on your soaking pussy before slowly sliding in in one stroke. you both moan and it feels so good as you hold eachother close, moaning in his ear as he slowly rocks into you.

his hands move from the back of your neck and shoulders to the top of your head and you know what’s about to happen, and all you can do is brace yourself. you dig your face into the crevice where his neck meets his shoulder, his soft brown hair covering your face as he begins to literally fuck you into the bed.

🫢

at the same time y’all are drunk and he’s made u cum thrice already so baby finished quick and then yall go to bed ok BYE !

elle’s thoughts: is this a loose retelling of how my one ex fwb used to fuck me .. no 🫠🤥. he was 6’5 … im much much smaller than that. also i just started writing and ofc because im a whore if turned into smut 😭 feel free to blow up my requests w lil asks for blurbs and what not, it’s summer and when im not working im bored 🥱 ⭐️ LOVE U ALL HUGS A DN KISSES MWAH 😘 also not proofread we die like men

[latenightdaydreams]

Hello! I love your writing !!!

Sooooo I wanted to make an ask

How about the place where the reader works is destroyed and the people killed by könig (and his men) because the company must've done something wrong/ helped könig's enemy

He finds the reader different from the others he murdered (she fights for what she thinks is right instead of bowing down for money or anything you want). And so he pulls the reader out from her hiding spot and snatches her from the world.

He would treat her like a little pet (maybe even collar). Reader would definitely try to fight back.

Maybe even plan an escape and get punished by könig :)

Thxx

Keep up the good work, baby!!!!

Hello!! Thank you!!😘

Mafia!König x Pet!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List ���🏽

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, oral, p in v, mention of blood, mention of violence

1.2k word count

.

.

It’s as if you can remember the day that you met König like it just happened. While you were sitting in your cubicle, you heard a loud agonizing scream echo from beyond the large glass doors that lead to the CEO’s office. You, along with other coworkers, poke your heads up to look towards the doors; exchanging glances of confusion. 

There had been a rumor around the office that the CEO’s ‘raises’ were actually shady dealings with the local mafia. He had started to act erratically over the last few weeks, making the unknown scarier. Then the loud pop of a gun discharging rang out, causing mass panic. 

As everyone around you screamed and tried to flee, armed men dressed in all black filed into the officer area. Bodies began to drop left and right as chaos broke out. You slipped down and crawled across the floor to not be seen as you made your way to your friend’s desk. The fear in her eyes made you feel helpless. 

Without words, you crawled underneath the desk with her and sit; holding her hand as you comforted one another. The next few moments were a blur, but you can recall your white shirt stained red with your friend’s blood and a man pulling you out of your hiding spot. You spat in his face, cursing him while you flailed like a wild animal.

After hours of interrogation, you never broke. No matter how much wealth or power he offered, you never broke. König did consider killing you, but your defiance and adorable angry mug mad him change his mind. In your opinion, death would have been a kinder ending than life the way it is right now.

“Komm her. Sit on my lap.” König speaks softly to you as you kneel before him wearing only a shiny golden collar around your neck.

You stand and approach him cautiously as your eyes roan his face. Without his mask, his face is hard to look at with his upper lip is deformed from a large gash that covers the right side. As you try to distract yourself, you look down at his lap noticing the large erection pressing an outline against his black slacks. 

Against his body you’re small; nothing. He loves the size difference. It adds to the feeling of power that he already holds over you. As you sit, he moves his hands to your hips and squeezes tightly. He rocks you back and forth along his hard cock as he lets out a soft sigh. 

“Did you miss me while I was at work, Kätzchen?”

“Yes…” You say in a low tone, unconvincingly. 

“I said…” König grabs your chin and forces you to face him. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes, master.” The dangerous look in his icy eyes makes you submit.

“Good girl.” He whispers as he continues to grind you into him. “Get my cock out.”

“Yes, master.”

You stand from his lap and turn to kneel in front of him, your knees bruised and borderline bloody from kneeling constantly. His eyes follow your hands as you move to his belt, unfastening it before unzipping his pants. A low sigh of relief leaves König as your warm small hand wraps around his fat cock and slips it out. The strong smell of his musk after a long day of sweating hits your nose.

“Ah, there you go.” He smirks at you as you look at his face with slight disgust. “Go on, play with it.”

You look at him before down at his cock. The bright pink tip being hugged by his foreskin as a bead of precum slowly drips down the side. You wrap your hand around him, pulling the tight foreskin down as you lean forward and lick the small bead. Its taste is bitter on your tongue, mixed with the tangy taste of his sweaty cock causes you to gag slightly. 

König grins as he takes joy in your disgust and discomfort. He reaches out with one hand and pushes your head down further onto his cock. Your soft lips stretch around him uncomfortably as you gag slightly. As he continues to push your head down you try to resist, but it’s no use because he is so much stronger than you. The feeling of your tongue wiggle along his shaft as he shoves himself into your tight throat pulls a moan from him.

“Look at me.” His voice is slightly raspy as he speaks.

Your watery eyes gaze up at him, strained red as you gag and struggle to get any air. His eyes are filled with deviant lust, always making you feel even more shameful for doing this sexual act. You dig your fingers into his muscular thighs, dragging down the fabric of his pants. The lack of air is beginning to get to be too much and you need a break.

Finally, König pulls your head up by your hair. Thick globs of spit fall on to his lap, strings of spit still connecting you to his cock as you gasp for air. Pretty little tears stain your cheeks as you look at him. 

“That was good, longer than last time.” He comments as he strokes his cock. “Come sit.”

You stand and turn, facing away from him to mount his cock. He stops you, forcing you to face him. His hands slip down to your hips, guiding you to him. Your hands rest on his chest as you balance yourself, feeling the head of his cock press against the entrance of your cunt.

“Tell me you want it.”

“I want your cock…” 

“Louder! Mean it!” König slaps your ass harshly.

“I want your cock!” You cry out, your ass stinging from the slap.

König bucks up into you, a loud moan leaving your lips as you dig your nails into his chest. No matter how many times he has you, you never can get used to the size of his cock. He holds you by your hips, forcing you down completely to make sure he shoves every inch of himself inside of you. 

He effortlessly lifts you before slamming you back down harshly onto him. You squeeze your eyes shut as another loud pained moan slips from you. Those little sounds you make only encourage him to continue, you sound so pitiful. 

“Who owns you?” 

“Y- you do.”

“That’s fucking right.” König slaps you across the face, leaving an instant deep red mark. He slouches his body down and grabs your ass, slamming up into harder. The sound of his muscular body hitting your supple flesh echoes throughout his room. 

Down stairs, his guards look at each other and smirk as they listen to him mercilessly fuck you. One of them holds a folder full of transcripts he pulled from the phone records. Your transcripts. He climbs the stairs and knocks on the door, interrupting the both of you.

In anger, König stands; dropping you to the ground as he puts his cock back in his pants. He marches to the door, getting ready to tear into whoever dares interrupt him when he’s playing with his pet. He swings the door open; you lay on the floor naked, looking at the door.

“What?!” 

“Sorry sir, but I think this is more important.” He hands König the manilla folder.

König snatches it, opening the folder. His eyes quickly scan over the documents in silence, taking in everything that he is seeing before him. You’ve been making calls, trying to find a connection to your old boss’s security team and family back home. Without a word, he slams the door shut and turns his gaze to yours. If looks could kill, you’d be dead.

[artinvain]

subtop sevika ??

breeding kink go brrr😵‍💫

sevika’s just so desperate to fuck you, moaning and holding you close, the rose at the base of her strap nestled perfectly on her clit as she sinks into you.

“fuck baby, baby oh god,” sevika’s huffing - your bodies pressed so close together, her lips sloppily kissing yours, sucking on your tongue as she bucks into you, swallowing your moans.

“feels so good, that good baby? that f-feel - fuck tell me, please please -“ she’s so fucking drunk on your pussy desperately looking on at your face contorted perfectly. Whining for her and scratching down her back,

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“incredible vika, so deep, you’re so - shit so beautiful,” you moan and Sevika meets your eyes forehead pressed to yours, needily thrusting into you. your mouths panting against each other, sharing kisses as she lifts your leg beside her gently and starts to circle and grind her hips watching you moan, your head lolling back as she kisses your neck and marks your chest.

“shit sweetheart, mmhfuck- you feel so good,” she whimpers, “love the way your pussy sounds when you’re takin me” sevika huffs, a coil tightening in her belly

“yes, oh sevika, m-my love - fuck” you yelp, “you make me feel so good, baby take such good care of me,” you whimper — your hips bucking back into sev’s meeting her thrusts and rocking with her, your bodies pressed together. she’s so flustered with your words, always so turned on when you’re vulnerable. your thrusts shifting her strap against her clit more vigorously.

“I w-want you, want you to cum on me please,” she whines her fingers going down and she moans at the feeling of your wet puffy clit under her fingers and groans at the feeling of it pulsing.

you whine your back arching as you cum, whining and cursing, yelping her name as she kisses your face and cooes about your beauty.

“w-will you let me cum inside you? please?” sevika whines, “wanna - fuck - let me put a baby in you please,” sevika groans growing close to the edge

“yeah vika” you whisper pressing your forehead to hers, “cum inside me and make me a mommy -“ sevika cums groaning and grunting loudly, her body holding you tight as her hips staggered like her breath and she bites down on your shoulder.

“fuck, fuck wanna - “ she moans pulling out gently and manhandling you onto your belly, lifting your hips up and easing in again, watching you shiver.

“gonna give us a fuckin baby,” she moans and you whine. gripping her had planted on her hip with the other against the headboard you start to back onto her strap. “god look at you, drooling all over our pillows — you fuckin slut,” she groans.

“you gonna cum?” she asks, she swears she can feel you clenching around her, moans when you start to jerk and shudder,

“that’s it baby, yes yeah cum all over me, fuck good girl, m’so lucky - get to put a baby in you.” she whines leaning herself over you and snapping her hips until she’s near crying in your ear, hips bucking eratically as she cums.

😘🏷️ @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul @ariariarr @femme-historian

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 26 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

-The next day, he does not even try to ply you with the promise of release. He is not cruel, but he simply takes what he wants from your increasingly sore body, offering nothing in return. You almost prefer this, at this point, except he is absolutely running you ragged. You’d thought you could wear him out with your advantage of youth, but this man is fucking insatiable.

By the next day, you can’t stop yourself from begging, when he wakes you with insistent kisses on your neck and sweet nothings delivered with a growl in your ear. “John…I can’t,” you whine. “Please, I need a break.”

He dismisses this with a disbelieving snort, thinking you are crying wolf, no doubt. But when he flips you to fuck you from behind, something he’s grown increasingly fond of over the past few days, because he likes the shape of your ass, the tight angle—or that he doesn’t have to look into your accusing expression—you find yourself crying into the pillow.

It hurts.

You are bruised to the point where you cannot sit comfortably, and even with the impossible buckets of slick your body has somehow produced in his presence, he has rubbed you raw.  

And he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

This is the litany that runs through your mind, and it breaks your heart more than anything else he’s done to you so far. That he is so far gone in his madness that you hardly recognize him…

This is the thing that breaks you, and certainly not in the way he intended.

You start to cry even harder into the pillow, the wound in your heart far more devastating to you than anything physical. You feel it in your chest like you did take a blade or a bullet, an agonizing ache that makes you wish for numbness more than anything that has transpired. This is worse than the kidnapping, worse than him dangling you on the edge of pleasure for days on end.

This is the thing that will sap your will to live, and you can almost see the spiraling dark maw of the abyss that looms before you.

This is also the only thing for days that has given him the slightest pause. He drapes himself over you to gather you in his arms.

“Are you crying, baby girl?”  

“Yes,” you sniff.

You’ve pretty much taken everything he’s thrown at you until now with a lifted chin and a do your worst. Tears of despair actually seem to throw him.

“Why?”

“Because you’re hurting me, and you don’t care.” You know you sound as despondent as you feel. “The man I fell for protected me, he killed for me, but I never thought he would hurt me. Who even are you?” A new wave of anguish makes you sob into the pillow. It is not pretty crying, sweet glittering tears sliding down your cheeks. This is ugly crying, the expulsion of pain from the darkest depths of your soul, and once it starts you cannot stop.

He goes still as a statue behind you, ceasing even to breathe, the only motion the throb of his rock-hard cock still buried inside you. You do not know if you have displeased him, and he’s dreaming up some new punishment—or if just this once, he actually hears you.

You’re not exactly a religious person, but you find yourself praying to whatever laughing god that might take mercy on you, that he finally hears you.

He stays like this for what feels like an eternity, but can’t be more than a minute at most.

You are shocked, when carefully he slides out you, rolling to pull you against his chest, his big hand protectively cradling the side of your head, holding you hard enough to squeeze the breath from you. You realize, to your astonishment, he is shaking too, and he lets out a long, slow breath, pressing his lips to your hair.

This would have inspired excitement in you, if you weren’t so goddammed exhausted. Wrung out, body and soul. As it is, it takes all your control not to break down and weep again. He doesn’t say he’s sorry outright, but he holds you like he is. At this point, you’ll take what you can get amidst this madness you’re trapped in.

He kisses you again with a promise of, “I’ll be back,” and disappears into the bathroom. You hear the taps of the bathtub running. This too, you have learned to dread. But you cannot fight him, when he returns to scoop you up in his arms, and lowers the two of you together in the rising warm water.   

You wait for the usual shenanigans—but they do not come. He just…holds you, and you only keep yourself together by a thread. With a tremulous sigh of relief you dare to settle further into his arms, savoring this closeness without the threat of sex in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he says against the top of your head. “You just…you make me crazy.”

It’s perhaps the closest thing to the truth he’s said since you’ve gotten here.

“I’ll give you a rest,” he promises, and if you hadn’t been sitting you might have fallen over with surprise.

“Thank you,” you say, relieved to the tips of your toes, kissing him sweetly. It’s a gentle press of lips that curls your toes, and a strangled little sound escapes from somewhere deep in his chest.

You pretend not to see it, but there is a glitter of a tear in the corner of his eye too.

After a little while he kisses your cheek, saying again, “I’ll be back.”

You watch him exit the tub and cinch a towel around his narrow waist. Despite everything, you admit that you have yet to tire of the view. Water beading on that man’s skin is a thing to inspire the songs of angels.

Or demons, perhaps, but either way it is divine to behold.

You wait, but he doesn’t return.

You linger in the water until it begins to cool, wondering what he’s up to.

It is telling of what a cautious creature you’ve become, for the way you are reluctant to move from the place he left you. But your fingers are turning to prunes, so you get out of the bath, drying yourself off and slathering yourself with the wonderful smelling lotion he’d gifted you, that cost a whole day’s pay from your time at the coffee shop.

It is hard not to gauge the cost of things against hours of your life, when you work in service. What are your hours worth now? You realize you don’t even know what day it is.

For the first time in a while you take a moment to actually look at yourself in the mirror. Your body is riddled with constellations of love bites in various states of healing, bruises in every shade of the rainbow. John Wick has marked you in just about every way a man can, yet still, you hold out.

Perhaps it is you who is delusional about this situation.  

When you exit the bathroom you freeze in your tracks, hardly believing your eyes. The door—THE DOOR!—is hanging wide open, almost in invitation.

Rather than excitement, your first reaction is a thrill of fear running down your spine, as you wonder if it is a sick test.

But in the end, you cannot resist.

Wary of appearances, you throw on one of your numerous new silky nighties and a blue robe that is impossibly soft upon your skin. What mad woman would attempt to make an escape dressed like this? You hope the odds are in your favor. 

On soft feet you pad to the top of the stairs, peeking over the landing. The smell of fresh brewed coffee wafts up towards you, and the sound of something frying in the kitchen. Cautiously you descend, making your way towards the promise of culinary delights.

For the second time in ten minutes, the sight before you makes you freeze in your tracks.  

John is busy cooking in the kitchen, wearing a black kimono-style robe that gapes over his bare chest. He is very intently reading a recipe, whipping something in a bowl, and watching a sizzling hot pan.

You stand there, still as a statue, drinking in the sight until Dog blows your cover, trotting over to greet you with a wagging tail. You get down on your knees to hug him and scratch his ears. You have not seen him since your first escape attempt, and though you strangely hadn’t really doubted John would keep his word, you are relieved to receive proof of life.

“How does French toast sound?” John asks, as though today is a normal day in a string of normal days, and you live and eat together like two normal people who cohabitate.

“It sounds lovely,” you admit, cautiously perching on one of the barstools. “Can I help?”

“No, sweetheart, let me take care of you.” You wonder if this is more to keep you away from the potential weapon of a heavy, hot pan full of bacon and grease, but you are fine to sit and watch him.

You notice the knife block is completely emptied of blades.

When you are seated together in the breakfast nook, your legs tangled under the little table, dining off melamine plates with plastic utensils but enjoying a very good meal none the less, John throws you for yet another curveball.

“I’m sorry, that I’ve been so…insatiable,” he says. He could have knocked you off your stool with a feather. “I…” He shakes his head, clenching his fist on the table, the tendons in his forearm popping. “I just want you, so much.”

Your lip quivers at hearing that, and the truth spills from your lips before you can even think to hold it in. “I want to be wanted by you, John! It’s all I’ve wanted, since…the first moment I saw you.” If you’re being honest. “But all this…?” You wave your hands in an encompassing manner, unsure how else to express what he’s put you through.

It’s a lot, would be the understatement of the year. You’re not able to get it out though, because there’s a stone lodged in your throat, and suddenly you’re not sure if you want to cry or throw up.

Seeing you’re distressed again, he opens his arms to you. “C’mere.” It’s like walking into the claws of the dragon, you know, but you shuffle over to fall into his lap anyway. How insane is it, that this man is the flame that burns you, and the only balm that soothes you? He holds you tight against his chest, rocking you gently. You manage not to cry again, but you can’t stop shaking for a long time.

Only once you settle down does he speak again. “You are tough, you know that? I didn’t realize I was hurting you.”

You blink, unsure for a good minute what the fuck to say to that. The truth is that it is unfathomable, what savagery women can endure, when they have to. You’re not sure you want to say that aloud to him.

It might come off as a challenge.

You are hardly winning any trophies for fastest comeback, when finally you quip into his collarbone, “You forgot you’re dealing with a junior blackbelt. We are trained in the ways…”

He looks down at you for a long second, as though he’s not sure if you’re joking or not. And then it is like the sun breaking from the clouds when he smiles, a genuine, toothy flash of mirth that mercilessly squeezes your heart in your chest. He looks almost boyish in that moment, and it is beautiful to behold.

“So I forgot,” he admits, kissing your forehead. 

“I guess you’re like…50th dan or some shit?” you ask, referring to his own belt ranking.

He chuckles at that, though there is a note of melancholy beneath it. “We don’t count dan where I trained, sweetheart. Just bodies on the ground.”

“That’s a lovely thought over breakfast…”

He snorts. “You remind me of me, you know, when I was younger,” he tells you quietly.

“How so?” you ask, thinking you’re not that tough.

“Too stubborn for my own good.” He smiles again, softer this time, but no less heartbreaking. He is not making fun of you. It is almost like he’s…commiserating with you, and it’s weird as hell. “I’ll give you a week to heal. Alright?”

You didn’t expect him to give you an hour, much less a week. “Okay…”

“Ok, what?” he prompts with a smirk, that breathtaking twinkle in his eye that makes you want to throttle him and kiss him all at once.

You can hardly refrain from rolling your eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Wick.”

He sighs at hearing it, like a sated lion.

You wonder if he’ll keep his word.

[hotdamnhunnam]

hey babes- i want your headcanon on something, if you’re down?

INCOMING-

I was thinking about what Charlie’s like in bed (as one does), and thought- I wonder if he’s into women being vocal? Like is it a passing thought? Or does he actively try to pull every sound out of you that he can?

And what about jax? And Will? AND Raymond?! I imagine there’s a common thread among them, but also, what would they each have a particularly soft spot for?

I would love to hear your thoughts!!!

Ohhh girl I am so down!!! 🙂‍↕️

I feel like Charlie is definitely into his woman being vocal when he takes her to pound town!! That man is NOT fucking around 🙂‍↔️ (or maybe he is, but you know what I mean by this 😆)

He’s so expressive and in tune with his emotions and I think he carries that into the bedroom too, and craves the same from you… whether it’s moans and groans and grunts, or using words to praise the ways he fills your cunt… damn he enjoys you showing him and telling him just how divine it feels when he destroys you with his cock because it’s everything that you could ever want.

And there is no doubt in my mind that the above applies to every one of his characters too!!! Sooooo since you asked about a few…

………………………………

Jax

He has a particular kink, for ravaging you so good that you can’t form words or even fucking think. And then because he’s such an evil pussy-killer bastard he will taunt you as he breaks your brain and takes it past the brink — he’ll be all use your words, darlin’ when he knows full well that you’re physically incapable of such a thing. You’ll whine and whimper like a nasty little whore, and that’s exactly what he lives for, and the worst best part is that he’ll make you say you’re sorry for being such a stupid cockslut who can’t even take an order from your fucking sex god king.

………………………………

Will

The captain has a kink for control. Not only for the way that he so completely controls your whole body and soul and all three of your holes — but more importantly for self-control. Restraint and discipline and mastery of basic human instincts. These are his biggest kinks. He’s mastered this himself and thinks it’s critical that you master it too, especially because it’s dangerous how you have no limits when it cums to all the kinky shit you’d let your captain do. So all the while as he’s wrecking you he wants you to be self-aware and careful and vocal. The signals don’t have to be verbal but they do have to be clear, straight from your lips to his ear, so that he always knows just when you’re ready for him to take things to the next level of making you his personal fuckhole.

………………………………

Ray

This bearded, bespectacled, revered and respectable gentleman is nothing if not nonchalant. Once you’re his woman he’ll most likely be reluctant in the bedroom to admit that there are certain things he really really wants. Does his debonair dick get rock hard when you scream like a mad bitch in heat as he rails your wet cunt? When you pornographically beg him to cum in that cunt do those words make him burst at his buttoned-up seams all at once? Yes and yes. But he’ll never confess. So sometimes when you need him and desperately plead him for sex he’ll just stand there and stay fully dressed, keep on casually sipping his tea and say feel free to talk. Thankfully it will be plain to see how turned on he is once you get down on your knees for his cock.

………………………………

And that’s all really! lol thanks for the ask bb 😘

[dawn-moths]

Hello how are you can I request Ronald with at frist shy looking and inocennt s/o,but she is actually really nasty and freaky and like some smut in there to i would be most thankfull i love your blog,lots of love😘😘

hello!! |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ

i hope you like what i came up with. enjoy!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ronald Knox x Female Reader

word count: 4,000+

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, reader is described as being/dressing feminine, reader is called “good girl, baby” and referred to as "princess", the nickname “daddy” is used for Ron, sub/dom dynamics, size difference, finger sucking, reader is carried, minimal prep, masochist reader, rough sex, biting, choking, hair pulling, nipple play, cock warming, aftercare.

***

It always starts this way, it seems.

What begins as otherwise harmless kissing quickly evolves into something much more explicit. Much more obscene.

Because, just before things start to get a little more heated, you find yourself straddling Ron’s lap, your mouth hovering over his as you both breathe in each other’s air, panting like dogs left out in the afternoon heat.

You, his precious baby with the face of an angel and the mind of a little devil only he’s allowed to know.

You, his own personal little porn star.

And you’re shameless. Eager. So enticing that it takes every ounce of will he has not to just hook his thumbs into the waistband of those pretty lace panties he knows you love to wear and tear them to shreds, to push you back and pin you down to the couch and fuck you until there’s tears in your eyes and your voice has gone raspy and raw from all the sounds of pleasure he’s forced from your throat.

You, his shy little sex kitten, always teasing him in those skirts that are just a little too short, those necklines that are just a little too low, your body’s soft curves the kind that the ancient Greeks used to sculpt statues of, chipping away at cold marble until a woman was found somewhere among the jagged rock. Reverent. Ethereal. Sacred.

Only for him.

Only, you do feel a little bit of shame, if you were being completely honest with yourself. It makes itself known in the way your cheeks heat, in the way your blood goes icy-hot with embarrassment at how you must look like this. How debauched and needy and on your way to no doubt becoming a complete and utter mess by the time this session is over.

But that’s the thing about you.

The more shy you acted now, the more desperate and dirty you’d be for him later.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Ron asked with one of those soft, charming grins spreading across his spit-shined lips, his voice low and soothing. He gently gripped your chin between his fingers and turned your face, which you’d momentarily tried to hide by nuzzling it into your shoulder, back up towards him, coaxing your nervous gaze to follow. “What is it?” he further questioned, though with a lilt of an amused chuckle laced into his hushed tone. “Things movin’ a little too fast for ya?”

In response, all you could manage was a squeak and another attempt to retreat and hide your shy little expressions from him again, but he was faster that time and caught you before you could really escape. When his smile refused to falter you knew he wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“No, no, no,” he said, tone woven with mischievous mirth. “Don’t hide…” Then, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, his lips nearly brushing the shell of it as his warm breath wafted against your neck, he murmured, “Seeing you get all flustered is one of my favorite parts…”

Ron knew that your whole sweet-and-innocent act was merely a mask to cover what you both knew was really true about you. And that was the undeniable fact that you were quite the little masochist. You liked it when he got rough with you. Left you a trembling mess by the end of the night after covering you in the shape of his bite and several shades of bruises from the press of his fingertips.

But, even so, it wasn’t like that shyer side of you was entirely fake, either.

Your innocence, whether it was surface level or not, was one of the things that had drawn Ron towards you in the first place, after all. Because who didn’t love a girl who seemed like a little darling on the outside only to discover what a little devil she was hiding underneath all those coy smiles and cute little dresses and lacy lingerie.

Your tender sweetness also happened to pair well with Ron’s proclivity to tease.

“Don’t be mean…” you whined, the corners of your mouth pulling down into one of those adorable little pouts Ron loved to be the cause of.

At this, Ron merely let out another one of those low, borderline sinister chuckles under his breath. He placed both his hands on your hips, readjusted your position over his lap to spread your thighs a little further, pulling where you were no doubt becoming more sensitive and needy down to brush against where his own arousal was growing from under his trousers.

Upon feeling him rubbing against your core you couldn’t help but let out a helpless little whimper, the first flare of impatient need coming to life inside of you.

“Y’know…” Ron reminded you, reveling in every little wiggle or squirm he felt wrack through your body as he pressed you even closer against him, “if you just tell Daddy what you want, it’ll be a whole lot easier for him to give it to you…”

You were shy…

Until you weren’t.

“I want…” you began, voice a shaky little plea. “I want your fingers in my mouth, Daddy…”

The request came out as more whisper than words, your head feeling dizzy from the rush of blood that raced upward to burn from your chest to the tips of your ears even hotter than before, the embarrassment almost enough to cancel out your eagerness, though not quite.

“Oh yeah?” Ron taunted, a slight growl to his voice now as he felt his own desires threaten to spill over the edge, the arousal welling to the brim within him from the thought of it alone. “Well then…” He pressed the pad of his thumb to the plush of your lower lip, gently pulling down to coax your sweet little mouth open wider for him. “Guess I have no choice but to deliver on what my baby needs…”

Slipping one of his long, slender fingers along the slick warmth of your tongue, then two, feeling you sucking the digits down further until they disappeared all the way up to the seam of his palm, your throat bobbing as the tips of his fingers brushed against the back of your gag reflex, Ron couldn’t help but gulp as well, trying to keep his composure the best he could.

“God, baby…” he sighed, as if in prayer. You curled your tongue around him, coating his fingers further in your thick saliva, at which point Ron slowly pulled them free, dragging them flat across your tongue and shuddering at the thought of how your mouth would feel encasing other parts of his body, before wiping some of your spit across your kiss-swollen lips.

The more disheveled or dirty you became, the more beautiful Ron thought you were.

“Daddy…?” you asked, that syrupy shyness drizzled back over the word like you were still his innocent little angel causing his cock to twitch in his pants. You didn’t miss the way he was beginning to shift and squirm as well, likely just as impatient as you now, if not more so. “Do you wanna…?” You glanced over your shoulder at where the bedroom door was open just a crack, as if trying to tempt you with the promise of what lay inside.

Ron followed your line of sight, glancing back to you when you turned to meet his emerald gaze again. A smirk fissured across his boyishly handsome features, his own little demon stirring back to life.

He nudged your nose with his, hummed out a melodic note of affirmation, and then, the next thing you knew, he was hoisting you up to carry you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his big palms cushioned the backs of your soft thighs, the silky flesh spilling between his strong grip.

He nudged open the door with his foot before swinging it closed in the same manner, not wasting a second before he had you lying back on the bed, pinned beneath him like a rare butterfly he’d worked hard to collect and had no intention of letting go.

Grabbing up both your wrists in one of his fists, Ron used his free hand to begin pushing your skirt up around your waist, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and rising a wave of chills over you, taking a moment to knead you there as you gently writhed under his hold, trying to squeeze your legs together to create even just a little bit of friction for yourself. But Ron recognized instantly what you were trying to do and coaxed your legs back apart, wanting to be the one to get you worked up himself.

You knew your panties must be soaked by now, the expensive lace likely ruined just from his teasing alone, but it wasn’t until he slipped two of his lithe fingers in through the side to glide through your delicate, drenched folds that you truly realized just what a mess you really were.

Ron let out an amused, prideful breath of a laugh. “So wet for me…” he half praised, half teased, applying pressure to your throbbing clit, making a gasp and one of those delectable little whines escape from your throat. “Just like that…” he said, rubbing skillful circles against the tender, swollen little bud. “So good for me,” he cood. “Always such a good girl…”

He let go of your wrists to use both hands to begin removing the ruined lace from you, encouraging you to help him in discarding it along with your skirt, and once you were left bare below the waist for him, Ron took a moment to admire you like that, all spread and vulnerable for his eyes only.

“So beautiful, baby…” he sighed, entranced. “You’re perfect…”

Ron thought you had the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen, all pink and glistening like the dewy petals of a rose, but he knew that the sight of it was nothing compared to how it felt squeezing around his cock. It was a sensation he was addicted to. Just the mere memory of your most recent time together was enough to make him feel like he could lose all control, becoming more desperate to satisfy his desire by the minute.

Lucky for him though, he knew you liked it rough, so if he didn’t take the full time needed to prep you, you wouldn’t necessarily hold it against him.

You both were still half clothed, and the humidity of the room and the body heat being exchanged between you two was near stifling. You needed the rest of your clothes off soon or else you’d become so hot and frazzled you’d hardly be able to think. Not that you needed to when in Ron’s hands. He already knew what you wanted, what you liked, though, lucky for you, he also wanted the rest of your clothing off.

“Arms up,” Ron told you, already gathering the hem of your top in his hands, halfway to tugging it up your chest, eyes unable to help but catch on the sight of the pretty matching bra that currently cradled your breasts. You obeyed without hesitation and soon found yourself fully exposed, the room now feeling a few degrees cooler.

Ron began hastily unbuckling his belt, the strain of his erection having grown painful with how hard it was trying to free itself from his trousers. He quickly discarded the remainder of his clothing, biting back a groan as he took his pulsing length in his hand, though couldn’t stop the punched out, “Fuck—” that escaped his lips when he slid it between the silky petals of your dewy folds, gathering more of your slick before lining himself up with your tight little entrance.

You wanted him to take his time, allow you to feel every vein and ridge of him, but for as much as Ron usually indulged you, it seemed that tonight time was going to have to wait.

“Now be a good girl for me,” he instructed, already sounding halfway to being out of breath, “and hold still for Daddy—”

With his hands gripping your hips hard enough for bruises to bloom beneath his fingers and one quick, harsh thrust, Ron buried himself down to the hilt inside of you. You let out a broken cry, head thrown back and neck craning as you felt yourself suddenly split by the familiar aching pleasure his cock provided.

And it hurt.

It hurt so much.

But you fucking loved it.

“That’s it, baby…” Ron panted, hunching over you while you both took a moment to adjust to each other’s bodies. “Good girl… Always so good at taking my cock…”

He was peppering chaste little kisses along your temple and jaw, a feeble attempt to distract you from the stringing stretch he’d just forced your body to endure as well as an apology for the soreness he knew you’d feel tomorrow because of it, a thin sheen of sweat already beginning to break out over the both of you.

But soon, all you could focus on was the slow drip of euphoria that was on its way to taking over your brain, some of the pain numbing as it gave way to pleasure.

When Ron first began moving, it was slow and rhythmic, all prior rush gone from his intentions. But the more your cunt clenched around him, the more erratic he seemed to become, hips stuttering in their motions as he struggled to keep a consistent rhythm. And by the time you were whimpering out a pathetic little, “Choke me,” well…

Ron just about lost it.

One hand rested over the delicate curve of your throat, Ron wanting to feel the hammering of your pulse for a moment before he cut off your air supply. Your eyes glittered up at him through the low light, so much love and trust and dangerous desire all wrapped up in your gaze. He held you in suspense for a moment, waiting until the frantic rise and fall of your chest slowed to something much steadier and controlled. Then, after you took your next inhale, his grip tightened, squeezing around your neck and making your eyes roll when you realized, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t breathe.

Not unless he allowed you to.

Ron kept careful count of the time going by though, knowing your limits, having committed them to memory, and when you first gave his wrist a tap he knew you were backing out prematurely. When he refused your first request, he felt your pussy flutter around him, the adrenaline on the verge of surging through you and breaking away into panic. Your vision started to blur and you tapped again, and that time, Ron obliged.

You sucked in a gasp of air, panting in shorter, more panicked breaths for a moment while his hand still rested over your throat as he admired you like that.

He’d ruin you and you’d gladly let him.

But something then seemed to occur to him as his fingers traced down to the line of your collarbones and the supple flesh of your breasts.

Those perked little nipples of yours were looking awfully neglected. And what kind of boyfriend would Ron be if he let that stand?

You let out a squeak when his mouth found the first pebbled bud, being gentle at first, teasing you with his lips and tongue until you were arching your back to push further into the wet warmth of his mouth. Ron had to hold your hips down as you began to squirm, wanting to feel every little shiver, tremble, and twitch your body made as he granted you more pleasure, each reaction felt as your cunt massaged his girth to varying degrees.

As his mouth tended to one side, his fingers took care of the other, only switching when he felt like your reactions became less intense. You were so sensitive everywhere he touched you, it seemed, so delicate to his ministrations, he could play you like a harp. And, in return, you’d make the most beautiful, melodic music for him as his fingers pulled at your strings, your moans the prettiest sound he’d ever heard.

But once your stomach started clenching in rapid succession, Ron knew he had to take a short intermission on this song you two were composing together. Just long enough to ensure you made it through to the encore, at least.

Lifting one of your legs, Ron threw it over one of his freckled shoulders to spread you even wider for him, sinking in so deep you swore you could feel him in your tummy, the mere implication making another rolling wave of arousal course through you and causing Ron to breathe out another one of those helpless, stuttering curses. His muscles clench as he rolls his hips in to meet yours, back to being slow and controlled.

But you needed more.

You needed it rougher.

“Harder…” you pleaded, breathless and wanting. 

Ron readjusted the both of you, once again taking your wrists in his grip and pinning them both beside your head, something to anchor you down for what came next, but you coaxed him to let you lock your fingers with his. It feels more intimate his way, and already knowing how rough he can get when you ask for it you feel better knowing that this simple act of handholding will help to balance out the consequences of his strength.

Ron starts to pick up speed, each time pulling almost all the way out before spearing his cock back into you, likely hard enough to ensure he was going to have to take care of you all day tomorrow, his poor little baby too sore and raw to even get out of bed on her own. 

But that’s ok.

That’s what he’s here for, after all.

His glasses begin to fog and his breathing is reduced to shallow panting, the shimmering veil of sweat that covers you both thickening under the growing humidity emanating from your bodies.

When the next request to roll off your tongue is a slurred whine of, “Bite me, Daddy…” Ron doesn’t hesitate that time. He lets go of your wrists, leans down and sinks his teeth into the tender spot between your neck and shoulder, letting out a desperate whine of his own when you followed up with a pained, shuddering exhale of, “Harder​​—”

You let out a yelp as you thrash beneath him, Ron increasing the pressure until the skin breaks and he tastes blood. But he doesn’t let go. Not yet. Because your trembling little hands have formed tight fists in his strawberry blonde locks, pulling so hard at the roots that his scalp prickles with sharp, staticky pain. Just when it was becoming too much, you yanked his head back hard enough that he takes the cue to unlatch his bite from your flesh, pink-tinted strands of saliva keeping his mouth connected to the new wound he’s gifted you for a moment before he created enough distance to have them break.

You were both panting and shaking, like two animals on the verge of death, and when he saw the vicious red indents carved out in the shape of his mouth, saw the blood that was trying to well in the deepest parts of the injury where his incisors had pierced straight through, Ron felt a small sense of dread for a moment. Because, as much as this has become to be expected between the two of you sometimes, he couldn’t help but fear he might go too far. That he might hurt you for real, in a way you wouldn’t get some sick sense of pleasure from, and that you’d stare up at him with fear instead of love.

But, looking down at you now, all he can seem to find as he searches your gaze is that beautiful, tender adoration that he’s pretty sure he would die without at this point.

But now it was time to finish this.

You were both close to the edge.

Ron preferred when you fell together.

Once again, his motions become rhythmic and savoring, ever the master of the push and pull between control and carnality, though kept up the speed needed to match each other’s oncoming orgasms.

He’d come to know your body so well, how it reacted and responded to his, that the moment he felt your stomach return to its rapid fluttering, like a little bird taking flight, legs tensing as your cunt constricted around his cock harder than before, he knew you were mere seconds away from coming undone. After three more thrusts, he’s right there with you, spilling his balmy warmth into your tight wet heat as you gush your glistening arousal all over his cock, both of you making a mess of each other in tandem before all that heady tension begins to slowly bleed away, leaving the both of you to fall slack and satisfied, the air heavy with the scent of your unrestricted love.

But Ron doesn’t pull out just yet. He likes to feel the aftershocks, the way your pussy flutters weakly around him as he goes soft, both of your combined juices drooling out of your abused little hole and staining the bedsheets below while your bodies are still one.

Once some of his senses returned to him, Ron carefully pulled out, bringing a trail of cum along with his blushing cock, and scooped you up in his arms so you could lay draped across his damp chest, his hair a tangled, tousled mess and his glasses smudged, yet something about him being disheveled like that only added to his charm.

He liked to let you doze off, if you wanted to, gently stroking your arm or your back or your hip with one hand while your eyelids became increasingly heavier until they had no choice but to fall closed, allowing him to tend to you once you’d fallen asleep. But when his fingers lightly traced along your shoulder and you winced, sucking in a small, sharp hiss, Ron remembered the mark he left there, the blood having rusted over to glaze the wound closed, but only just barely. Now that some of the adrenaline had worn off, he knew you must feel the sting, all the cuts and bruises he’s caused you flaring back to life and pulsing with the aftermath of the pain.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he whispers to you as he carefully shifts you over to lay your heavy head on the pillow, venturing into the bathroom to gather all the things he needs to help nurse some of those wounds born from the heat of the moment.

You wait patiently for him to return, blinking open half-lidded eyes to gaze up at him as he reclaimed his seat on the edge of the bed. He praises you as he cleans the bite, tells you what a good girl you were for him, how brave you are when he dabs some disinfectant on the imprint of his teeth and you barely even whimper at the sting of the salve. He looks over your neck, the bruises darkening, and asks you if it still hurts. You shake your head, say you can barely even feel that one, and he hums out a note that alludes to being pleased, but also hints at something secretly prideful as well.

Because who would’ve been able to guess what a high tolerance for pain his perfect little princess hid so skillfully from those around her, a dirty, sinful little secret concealed beneath cute, flouncy little outfits and pretty hair and glossy lips.

But, the best part, it was a tolerance only Ron got to test.

A standard he got to help create.

“I know it hurts, baby…” Ron murmurs as he carefully cleans your sore little hole with a warm washcloth, gently dragging it through your folds to collect all the cum that’s begun to glaze over your skin and harden into salty crystals. “But you’re being so good. Almost done…”

Once he’d dressed you in one of his oversized t-shirts and placed a goodnight kiss to your forehead, Ron tucked you in under a clean blanket and returned to the bathroom to take care of his own mess. He tried to make it quick, knowing there’s a good chance you’d already be asleep before he’s able to curl up next to you, but when he returns and you’re still awake, he can’t help but give you another one of those soft smiles.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he kindly reminded you, though he’s glad you did.

When his chest is pressed to your back, his warm arms wrapped around your middle, you unexpectedly shift to turn and face him. He considered you with a slightly puzzled glance, but then you were leaning forward to press your lips to his, your tongue teasing at one corner of his mouth before pulling back.

“There was a little blood,” you told him, those adorable doe-eyes of yours that could just about hypnotize him glittering in the dark, “but I got it…”

Ron sighed out a tired chuckle through his nose as he tugged you in closer to his chest, letting you get comfortable as you found the right angle to intertwine your legs.

“Night, baby,” he cooed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too…” you replied, already sounding halfway to a dream.

And, as if he ever needed a reminder, Ron falls asleep feeling like the luckiest man alive.

Lucky, because he’s the only one in the entire world who gets to call you his.

[arielburrow]

Hii I have a request for aftercare with joe

Hold Me

smut + fluff (little freaky moment for your Monday pick-me-up 😈😘)

You feel goosebumps rise as Joe’s sleeves rub against the back of you’re legs. With each turn of a corner you feel yourself deepen the kiss, Joe desperate to get you in bed. You finally feel him place you down on his mattress, slowly releasing you from his grasp, not daring to break eye contact.

His figure becomes a silhouette against the faded moonlight coming through his bedroom window. You can’t really see his face as it’s mostly dark, but you watch as he reaches to his waist to pull off his shirt, moving closer to you in the process. You sit up, head tilted up towards him as you open your legs, allowing him to stand as close to you as possible. He looks down to you with a smirk, reaching down to cup your face.

“I need you sweet girl.” He quietly, but sternly insists. “So take me Joe.” you smirk as you push yourself backwards on the bed, welcoming Joe’s presence. He climbs up until he’s hovering over you, two hands pressing down next to both sides of your face. You feel him tug at the hem of your dress and you move to allow him to remove it from you, which he does in a instant. He scans your body with a smile, no matter how many times he’s seen you like this, it always feels like the first. He comes down to your neck, nipping all the way down to your collarbone, earning a whimper out of you. He reaches to unclip your bra and removes it with one hand, while the other immediately attaches to your breast. He kisses and tugs at your breasts, smiling at each little sound that escapes your sweet lips.

Once he detaches his mouth, he kisses down your tummy, spreading your legs as he continues down inside your thighs. He bends your legs up and settles between them before meeting your line of vision. You watch as he teasingly removes your panties with a smirk, those baby blues holding strong contact the whole time. Once he’s done teasing, his tongue latches with your clit. You instantly moan out, not expecting his quick movement. He sucks and laps at your clit and smirks at your moan.

“Oh Joey…baby…” you continually moan his name which only turned him on more. There was something that just added fuel to fire hearing his name come off your lips when you were in this position. He adds a finger, slowly thrusting in and out before picking up the pace. Before you know it, Joe is pumping in and out of you as fast as he can, knowing your on the edge.

“Joey i’m gonna cum!” you practically scream out.

He detaches his mouth and continues to finger you. “Cum on my lips baby.” he pleads as he goes back to feasting on you. You feel your orgasm rise and before you know it you feel Joe’s tongue lapping at the mess you made. Looking down you notice your man smiling like a kid in a candy store. He continues to lick you clean until he’s satisfied, only earning more little moans from you. He brings himself back up to you, pulling you into a kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. He pulls away and flips you on your tummy, barely giving you time to catch yourself in the process.

“I’m gonna take you just like that my girl.” he purrs, making you forget the fact that you came just seconds ago, already aching for him. You hear him remove the rest of his clothing and before you can brace yourself, you feel him push himself into you. When you and Joe first had sex, he was slow to let you accept him, knowing it was a lot. He knew you were far more than capable now, and knew how much you liked when he was surprising rough with you. “oh my god” you breathily moan out. “Such a good girl, taking my whole cock at once.” he slowly starts to thrust, running a hand down your back, sending a shiver down your spine. He picks up the pace as he rests a hand on your butt, loving the way he felt you rock against him. You moan out to him, “more Joe!” to which he smirked. You feel him remove his hand from your skin and in an instant he gives your ass a smack. Joe knows exactly how to be with you, he knows you loved that sting, but didn’t want to leave you with any lasting marks. You cry out to him feeling the slight sting as he continues to thrust. “Again Joe!” You call out barely able to form words from the feeling of his cock inside you. “Be patient baby, I want to take my time.” he whispers. The next few minutes are filled with the sounds of skin slapping and curses from both of your mouths as you both recognize that familiar feeling. You feel Joe’s palm come down on your ass again, causing a heavy moan to leave your lips as you push back hard against Joe. Your climax takes over and a string of sounds fills the room as Joe joins you in his orgasm.

With a few more thrusts, Joe pulls out of you and you both topple over onto the bed. Nothing is said for a few moments, just heavy breathing. He turns to you, taking in your state and your breathing. “You okay?” he questions sounding concerned. Your eyes stay glued to the ceiling but you smile. “That was so good Joey, it’s just been a while since we’ve gone that hard.” You both laugh and he pulls you towards him.

“Did I go to far?” he whispers. “No baby, you know exactly my limits, that’s why I love you.” you respond pecking him on the nose.

“Hold on.” He says and you watch as he gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom. He comes out with a wet washcloth and takes a seat next to you on your side of the bed. He gently pulls your legs towards him, careful not to hurt your now sore legs. He wipes your legs and massages your muscles a bit, earning sweet coos from you. You watch as he inspects your body, not in a sexual way, but in a loving and protective way. He grabs sweats from your drawer in his dresser and lays them next to you.

“Go pee, I’ll go get us a snack, that was like a full body workout.” He says leaving the room as his laugh trails behind him. You giggle to yourself as you walk to the bathroom to pee and change. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you blush as you notice the little red marks along your chest from your lover. You touch each one as they trail down your torso. You smile as you change into your pajamas and get back into Joes bed, beneath the covers. You turn on the TV and find a show you know will keep Joes attention.

Cosmos

Joe enters the room with two bowls. He sets them down and gets into bed with you, wearing nothing but his boxers. He reaches back to the bowls and hands you the bowl of raspberry sorbet.

“my favoriteeee” you purr and Joe smiles as he takes a scoop from his vanilla with rainbow sprinkles. “You’re such a child,” You tease. You loved the rough and intense side of Joe, but you also adored his sweet-innocent side that never seemed to disappear. You both sit in silence eating your ice-creams and watching the space show that held Joe in a trance. Once he decides to call it a night, he reaches over to shut out the lamp. You curl up next to each-other and you feel his arms snake around your waist.

“You need anything baby?” he whispers one last time. “No Joey, just hold me.” you respond moving your head closer to his. “I love you y/n,” you hear him mumble with his eyes shut.

“I love you too Joe,” you whisper. He holds you tighter as you both drift to sleep.

[billskeis]

Hi! Absolutely love ur work💕💕 Okay so could you write hcs with all four members (separate) that have a quiet/ shy type s/o?

(Sorry that this req is short but my brain is running out of juice rn, love the work, keep it up😘😘)

ᡣ𐭩 tokio hotel w shy s/o

thank u so much! and don’t worry, you’re doing great! let’s appreciate all my shy and quiet homies out there! y’all deserve some more appreciation in your life.

headcannons down below!

bill

loves loves loves that you’re shy, he thinks it’s so cute

usually one to go for loud spontaneous girls but you’re like a stick in the mud, and that drew you to him

since you don’t talk much you’re a really good listener, and bill is known to ramble a lot

appreciates the fact you listen to him attentively

because of how tall he is, loves the fact that whenever you’re out to meet new people you hide behind him, how you have to peak behind his shoulder once he introduces you to his peers or acquaintances and is always holding your hand through it, squeezing it to ensure everything is okay

hand holding in public gets you super shy but bill loves to show you off in any way possible

his love language is definitely words of affirmation, so will out of the blue compliment you to see how you react

hiding your face, not knowing how to respond, running away from him to only catch up to you quickly

he fucking loves that shit

“aww come on baby, am i not allowed to tell you how beautiful you are?”

tom

just like bill, usually goes for spontaneous girls

but when he saw you at the club and how flustered you became when he hit on you, MANS WAS DRAWN INNN

physical touch all the way, makes you insane and knees weak, and he just lives for that

sudden grabs of the waist, hugging, holding your neck gently to swiftly pull you into a kiss

maybe if he’s feeling bold he’ll sneak a hand on your ass

the eye contact goes crazy, once you look at him and he catches you, he’ll never break his gaze

finds it super adorable that you’re always the one to break the stare down, laughs and pats your head always afterwards

omgosh loves and i mean fucking loves it when you hide yourself in his clothes especially his sweaters when he’s wearing them how you’ll just tuck yourself into the sweater bodies pressed together engulfing like FUCK do this more often he loves it

whenever you go out to get food, you’re shyness doesn’t allow you to take to service workers so he always offers to order for you, eventually it becomes a habit and does it himself

“how’s that baby, i made sure to get your coffee just how you like it.. oh me? a coca cola!”

gustav

introvert x introvert ALL THE WAYY BABEYYY

the way you and gustav show affection for one another usually comes from physical touch or acts of service

communicating with each other isn’t hard, it’s almost like a spidey sense where you just know what the other person wants or needs and can simply do that for them

expect soo many cuddles, movie marathons and baking/cooking sessions, gustav loves to cook and bake with you, the playlist on in the background that the two of you curated for one another simply enjoying each other’s company is enough for the both of you

on the other hand, if you guys wanted to step out of the comfort zone to go outside on a date, expect to play rock paper scissors to see who has to talk to someone to either order food or request a table at a restaurant

you and gustav can also have one on one sessions with each other deep conversing, talking about anything and everything

can immediately notice when you’re uncomfortable or feeling way too shy or nervous in situations

will either step up, say something, or simply bring you somewhere else where it’s now just the two of you

if you tell and express to him how you feel, will fully listen to you, holding your hands together caressing them

“i understand.. we can either leave, or if not, you can sit next to me! i’m right here with you.

georg

is the biggest shit ever

even more than tom, loves to tease you, you can find him tapping your shoulder and running away leaving you confused or whenever you compliment or tell him you love him will make you repeat it loud and clear

but if it comes to that case, will have to beat the shit out of someone if they make a comment about how shy or quiet you are

not much of a talker, but when he does find himself talking a lot more than you in conversations always asks what you think and what your opinion on it is

does it solely just to hear you speak because he loves your voice and doesn’t get to hear it enough ugh y/n what’s wrong w u??

expect him to rest his arm on your shoulder, head on chin, and bear hugs, he thinks that just because you’re quiet he treats you as if you were someone smaller than him

but he this is just how he publicly shows how in love with you he is

constantly compliments you on how you look, the outfits you wear, how good you are at things vice versa nd that

but you finally snap back at him and compliment him even further and woah honey you have him in a chokehold rn

“fuck, i didn’t expect you to say that, can you say it again? please? i wanna’ hear it one more time..”

[puzziepoppin]

lovelovelovelove thinking about being dallas winston's gf.

cw: mostly just fluffy relationship stuff, mentions of sex; no detail, loosely curtis!reader, not edited and written on a small amount of energy so exscue any grammar mistakes😭

~

-sleeping in at bucks until the sun is shine so brightly through the blinds you can't see anything but the rays hitting his face in such a perfect way spotlighting all of his usually rock hard features that have turned soft while he sleeps.

-dally is a FULL time stomach sleeper though. and when he finally gets some good sleep he sleeps hard. so if you want to cuddle up close to him don't excpect him to spoon with you. he'll hold you while he sleeps on his back once in a while, but the most you can usually get on from that boy is an arm slung around your body.

-and he is NOT a morning person. the second you inch to sit up hes mumbling with his morning groggy voice and thick accent for you to get back in bed. even if you have work or school or just have to pee. DO NOT expect him to let you up.

-he seems like a real hard-ass but i like to think he has his softer side for you but only when your alone. can't let the gang know you've made him gone soft.

-and if your a curtis girl just expect for darry to be even harder on you once he finds out your dating tusla's certified delinquent. it's all outta care for you and love. he doesn't want his family getting separated from him, and knowing how much time dally spends in the cooler has dar just a tad worried that your gonna get caught up in it sometime.

-and we all know dallas winston fucks. so in the beginning darry will definitely be a bit suspicious of dally only using you to get his dick wet. but once he sees a how dally acts around you he starts to soften up a bit. just don't let darry catch you with dally in your bed doing the devils dance. or any clothes removed for that matter.

-on the topic of fucking and touching. dally is big on pda but in his own way. he's not the type to spin you around and pick you up after he gets outta the cooler. but he knows how to be romantic. he's just more of a touchy feely (vampire on the neck) kinda guy. your friends and darry especially will always have a comment on the new hickey that's accumulated on your neck or how it looks like dallys eating your face off anytime you make out. but dal is just passionate with his kisses. passionate and hungry. if he feels the need he can add a bit of gentleness in there just gentle isn't a normal word in dallas winston's vocabulary.

~

a/n: more self indulgence but this time it's with my new fictional bf. no, i haven't finished reading the outsiders so DONT mention any deaths to me. and death is so bleh anyways i like to imagine a world where they all live and johnny never killed the soc and darry never hit dally. anyways maybe some more rated r coming soon babes😘

[atomicladytimetravel]

Desperate Housewife

Sequel to Hot for Teacher but can be read stand alone.

Summary: You’re constantly desperate for Joel’s touch, so you visit his office in the middle of the day. No outbreak au and Sarah is not mentioned. No use of y/n.

F masturbation, some sexting, sir!kink, cockwarming, creampie, breeding kink, semi-public sex.

If you’ve ever seen Two and a Half Men, I pictured Joel’s assistant as the housekeeper, Berta, while I was writing her.

Word count: 3,214

You woke up slowly, your eyes fluttering open and adjusting to the sunlight filtering into the room. You stretched and reveled in the feeling of the plush sheets against your skin. You reached over to your nightstand and grabbed your phone to see what time it was - 10:17 am. You sighed happily. Ever since quitting your job and becoming Mrs. Miller, you’d been really living your best life. At first, you felt bad and refused to let Joel spoil you; it didn’t take long for him to change your mind. Now you lived like a princess and you loved it.

You settled back against the pillows and checked your notifications. You had a message waiting for you from Joel.

[8:05 AM] Joel: Good morning baby girl 😘 I hope you slept well. Had a good time this morning 😉 might have to do it again when I get home.

You smiled, remembering the quickie Joel had woken you up with earlier. The memory of him groaning in your ear as he pumped you full of cum aroused you all over again.

[10:21 AM] You: Morning babe 😘 might have to be sooner, I’m horny again. Come home for lunch?

[10:22 AM] Joel: Fuck princess…as much as I’d love to I’m swamped over here. Get your toy and make yourself feel good baby. Then I’ll take care of you when I get home.

You pouted at his message. Sure, the toy would feel good but nothing compared to Joel. You’d been insatiable the last few days though, so you decided to use the toy and hoped it would satisfy your need until Joel got home. You threw the covers back and opened the drawer on your nightstand to retrieve the rose shaped vibrator Joel bought you to use in his absence. You opened the camera on your phone and switched it to video, deciding to tease your husband a little.

You bunched your blush pink satin nightie around your waist and pulled the neckline down so that your tits spilled out over it. You started the video and panned the camera over your body to where your fingers were playing in the cum Joel left between your legs.

“Mmm, I wish you were here to fill me up again,” you pouted into the camera. “I love having your cum in me.”

You sent him the video and hoped he would see it soon. This would be a lot more fun if he was playing along. You smirked when you saw the video said “read 10:43”.

[10:44 AM] Joel: Good girls don’t pout. I already filled you up once today, but I guess my little cum slut needs more huh.

Oh god. Nothing turned you on more than when he talked to you like that. You clicked the button on the vibrator and put it to your clit. You let out a sigh as pleasure jolted through your body. You took a short video of your breathy moans as the vibrator sucked at your clit and sent it in response. You let yourself enjoy the sensation of the vibrator until your phone vibrated with another message.

[10:49 AM] Joel: [Video Attached] Baby girl you’re gonna be the death of me…

You eagerly clicked on the video. You hit play and saw Joel palming his hard on through his work slacks. You could see the outline of his hard cock and it made your mouth water.

“Don’t know what I’m gonna do with you princess. Told ya I was busy but you keep sending me dirty videos anyway. Got my cock fucking rock hard.” His voice was low, almost a whisper. Pleasure coiled in your stomach as you played the video again. You started another video and turned the speed up on the vibrator. You didn’t mean to moan as loud as you did but the new speed felt so good on your clit.

“I can’t help it. I need you so bad. This feels good but your cock would feel so much better.”

You sent the clip with a warning for him to turn his sound down. He responded with a sound clip.

“God damn baby, you’re a needy little thing lately. Make your pussy cum baby, I know you need it. Fuck, I’m so hard right now. Wish I was there to fill up that pretty pink pussy and give my baby what she needs. Send me a video when you cum princess. I wanna see what I do to ya.”

You listened to the message over and over until you were on the edge. You turned your camera on once more and turned the speed up on your vibrator again.

“Fuck, fuck, Joel I’m cumming,” you panted. You left the vibrator on your clit for as long as you could, prolonging your orgasm until your legs twitched. You sent the video and lay there panting as you awaited Joel’s response.

[11:07 AM] Joel: God fucking damn it baby. You’re so pretty. Show me your pussy.

You giggled. He ran a multi-million dollar construction business but you could make him drop everything for a glimpse of your pussy. You spread your pussy lips and took a picture of your glistening center. You sent it to Joel and he read it as soon as it delivered.

[11:09 AM] Joel: Fuck, some of my cum is still leaking from that desperate pussy. You got me wettin my boxers like a fuckin teenager.

[11:10 AM] You: You sure you can’t come home? ☹️

[11:15 AM] Joel: As much as I’d love to come home and bury myself in that pussy, I’ve got a lot of work to do. Be a good girl and don’t touch yourself anymore until I get home.

[11:15 AM] You: Fiiiiine.

[11:16 AM] Joel: Atta girl. I’ll take care of you later, don’t worry. Greedy thing.

[11:16 AM] You: You love it.

[11:20 AM] Joel: I do. And I love you ❤️

[11:21 AM] You: Love you more 😘

You did a few things around the house to distract yourself from the dull throb between your legs. After making sure the house was spotless, you checked the time. You groaned upon the realization that it was only 2:00. It would still be at least three hours before Joel came home. You simply were not going to make it that long.

You threw on a sundress and a tiny g-string, forgoing a bra, and drove yourself to Joel’s office. Several of his employees greeted you when you walked through the front door. You’d known most of them for years and considered them friends. Your favorite was Angie, Joel’s assistant. She was an older woman with no filter and zero fucks to give. She was also a lesbian who flirted with you shamelessly in front of her boss just to get a rise out of him.

“Hey Angie! Is Joel in his office?” you asked as you approached her desk.

“Hey hot stuff! Yeah, he’s been locked in there all day, grumpy as fuck. I’ll tell him you’re here.” She pressed a button on the phone to her right. “Joel, you’ve got a visitor.”

“Take a message, Angie, I have to get this shit done.” His voice was strained and frustrated.

“Okay, I’ll just tell your pretty little wife she can hang out with me then,” she replied, shooting you a wink. There was silence on Joel’s end, then his door opened up a few seconds later.

“You keep your hands off my wife, Angie,” he joked as he ushered you inside. After he closed and locked the door, he pulled you into a hug and smirked down at you.

“I’m pretty sure I already know the answer - but what are you doing here baby?”

“I need you,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. He tutted and shook his head.

“Couldn’t wait for me to get home huh? So needy. What if I said no?”

“You won’t. You’re already half hard.” You palmed his cock over his pants and felt it twitch in your hand.

“Hard not to be when you’ve got a hot little slut wife that wants to fuck all the time.” He reached under your dress and squeezed your ass cheek.

“How can I not when you make me feel so good?” You were kissing his neck and undoing his tie. “My pussy can’t get enough.”

“God, I love you,” he grinned.

Preparation was hardly necessary. Not only were you still wet from making yourself cum, but new arousal was dampening the clean panties you’d just put on. He led you to his desk and you watched as he unbuckled his belt and undid his slacks. He let them pool around his ankles before sitting in his chair. He stroked himself a couple of times before motioning you to him.

“Sit on it,” he instructed. “But don’t move.”

“Babyyyyy,” you pouted. He shook his head.

“Ten minutes. That’s your punishment for not waiting for me to get home like I told you to.”

You huffed in reply, but did as you were told. You turned so that your back was to him and he reached under your dress to pull your g-string to the side.

“That’s it, good girl,” he whispered in your ear as you sank down on him. He moved his chair closer to the desk. “Now just sit still while I finish this email. If you make it the whole ten minutes without moving, I’ll let you cum. If not, you can wait for me to get home. Understand?”

You whimpered in response, already in desperate need to feel him move.

“You’re a big girl, use your words,” he reminded you sternly.

“Yes sir, I understand,” you said.

“There ya go, good girl.” He pecked your cheek. You needed to cum badly, so you were as still as you could be. He rested his chin on your shoulder and his arms caged you in as he typed up an email. He placed little kisses to your neck and shoulder as he typed. It hadn’t even been five minutes when he hit send.

“You’re doing so good baby,” he praised as his left arm snaked around your waist. “Just a few more minutes.”

He read a few emails and his free hand teased your nipples over your dress. He used his middle finger to just barely circle your nipple before gently pinching it between his fingers. You were going absolutely insane. You were so full of him and you just wanted to move your hips so bad. Quiet, needy whimpers fell off your lips.

“I know baby, I know,” Joel soothed. “We’re almost there.”

When the ten minutes was up, Joel put his hand between your legs and touched your aching clit.

“You did such a good job baby,” he said in your ear. He started rubbing in circles and your head fell back onto his shoulder.

“Yeah that feels good, doesn’t it pretty baby?” he murmured in your ear.

“Yes sir,” you nodded.

“I know it does. Don’t know what’s gotten into you lately that you can’t wait to be touched.”

“I don’t know baby. I just need you so bad,” you whined.

“Shhh, you’ve got me sweet girl. I’m so deep in that little pussy right now.”

“Can I move?” you asked desperately.

“Turn around first,” he replied. “I wanna see your pretty face.”

You stood up and turned to face him before dropping back down on his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “Always so tight for me. Take what you need sweet thing.”

You began bouncing on him immediately. He put his hands on your hips to help you stay steady.

“Oh god that feels good,” you moaned quietly.

“Yeah? That needy pussy finally getting some relief?” he pouted, mocking your neediness.

“Yes sir,” you breathed. He reached up and pulled at the neckline of your dress so that your tits spilled out; they bounced in rhythm with your movements.

“God damn, I love watching your tits bounce in my face,” he groaned. He put one in his mouth and sucked. You pursed your lips to keep from making any loud sounds and you let out a breath through your nose. You rocked your hips faster, desperately chasing your release. His hands moved to your ass and squeezed roughly.

“That’s it, take it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Take what you want baby. Make my pretty pussy cum.”

You buried your face in his neck and he held you close to him as you bounced faster on his cock. You could feel the beginnings of your orgasm as he brushed your g-spot.

“Right there,” you panted into his skin. “Gonna make me cum.”

“Go ahead baby, let go. I know you need it princess.”

“Yes baby, I’m right there,” you whispered. He thrust up into you once and you came instantly, muffling your moans into his shoulder. He held you down on his cock as the orgasm wracked your body.

“I bet that felt so good, huh?” he asked, smoothing his hand over your hair. “You wanna give me another?”

“Fuuuck, yes sir,” you agreed, nodding your head. He stood the two of you up and sat you on the edge of his desk without ever slipping out of you. He put one hand on the small of your back to steady you while the other rubbed your clit slowly. He wasted no time pounding into you.

“I’m gonna fill up this little pussy,” he promised. “Wanna make you a mama so bad.”

“Oh god yes Joel,” you hummed. “Give me a baby.”

“Yeah? You wanna have my babies pretty mama?” he smiled.

“Fuck yes, put a baby in me,” you moaned. “I’m gonna cum so fucking hard.”

“Me too baby,” he groaned. “Gonna fill you up so nice.”

You hooked your ankles around his back as he thrust into you fast and hard. You kissed him as another orgasm ripped through your body.

“I’m cumming baby,” you whispered against his lips. “Fuck, I’m cumming s-so hard.”

“Me too baby, here it comes,” he grunted. He made a strangled sound as he came forcefully inside you. He went still and held you tightly to his body. “Ohhh fuuuck, I’m pumping so much cum into your pussy. God damn.”

He stayed inside you for a few moments after he was finished, catching his breath. He pulled out slowly and his load instantly started leaking out.

“Jesus, I don’t know how I still had that much,” he marveled. He smiled proudly. “Be careful walking out of here.”

“I’ll do my best,” you laughed. “Thank you baby.”

“Anything for you princess,” he said, kissing you softly. You hopped off his desk and adjusted your tiny thong, wishing you had gone for something with a little more coverage now that you were stuffed full of cum.

“I guess I better let you get back to work. I’ll see you at home honey.” You gave him a lingering kiss.

“Okay baby, enjoy your day,” he smiled. He gave you a pat on the ass as you walked out.

“Bye Angie,” you giggled innocently as you passed her desk.

“Hey, wait,” she called. You turned and she gestured for you to come to her.

“You’ve got something…coming down your leg,” she whispered as you got close to her.

“Oh my god!!” you exclaimed in a hushed tone. She reached across her desk and pulled a tissue from its box and handed it to you.

“I’m so mortified,” you said as you wiped your leg. She laughed.

“You think I don’t know what was going on in there? I was born at night, but not last night.”

You slapped your hand over your face and your cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“Oh god, I’m sorry Angie,” you apologized. She just laughed and shrugged.

“I don’t care what he does, he owns this joint.”

“Fair point.” It was your turn to laugh. She leaned close to you and lowered her voice.

“Have you considered taking a pregnancy test? This is the fourth time this week you’ve come over here in the middle of the day for a play date.”

“Huh…,” you mulled over the thought for a moment. “I actually hadn’t thought of that. I guess I’m about to go find out! Don’t say anything to Joel.”

“Mum’s the word,” she promised.

“Thanks Angie! I’ll see you later.”

On your way home, you stopped by the drugstore and bought a box of pregnancy tests, choosing the one that had a rapid test and a digital test so you could be sure before you told Joel. You took the rapid test as soon as you got home and to your delight, it was positive. After drinking a lot of water, you took the digital test about an hour later. You burst into tears when it flashed “positive” across the display screen. You stashed the tests in the drawer of the coffee table in the living room and waited impatiently for Joel to get home.

He was slightly later than usual, but you really only had yourself to blame for that. You were waiting for him on the couch when he walked in.

“Hey baby,” he smiled. He leaned over the back of the couch to kiss you. You patted the seat next to you.

“C’mere, I’ve got to tell you a funny story.”

“Okay, lay it on me,” he said, taking a seat next to you.

“You might not think it’s funny at first but it gets good at the end,” you warned.

“Oh lord…okay, go ahead.”

“So I did my best to be careful leaving your office, but gravity was working against me. Angie stopped me and let me know I had something coming down my leg,” you started, using Angie’s innuendo.

“Nice,” he chuckled. “I’ll never hear the end of that.”

“Probably not,” you agreed before continuing. “She also gave me some good advice, which I took.”

You opened the coffee table drawer and grabbed the two tests, setting them on the table in front of him. He picked them up and stared at them wide eyed.

“We’re going to have a baby Joel.”

“Oh my god,” he whispered. He turned to you with tears in his eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” you beamed. He pulled you into a hug and let out a happy sob.

“I can’t believe it. I’m so happy,” he blubbered. Listening to him cry made you cry and the two of you sat in the embrace crying together for a few minutes. Eventually, he pulled away and put a hand on your belly.

“You’re going to be such a wonderful mother,” he said softly. “I can’t wait to watch you carry our child.”

“Thank you Joel. You’re gonna be an amazing dad.”

“I’m gonna do my absolute best baby.” He kissed the top of your head and pulled you to his chest.

“So does this mean I can have dick whenever I want?” you asked with a smirk. He looked down at you with amusement.

“You get dick whenever you want it now; why would that change?”

“Touché,” you grinned. “God, I love you so much.”

His eyes met yours and he smiled softly.

“I love you more.”

[vvmylove]

Can I request smut fic for jake? Maybe comforting him after the workers arc and it slowly turns into smth else 👀👀? Btw Love your writing!♡♡♡♡

This is for you too, anon.

Mmm neck 

De-stressing your boyfriend😘 (MDNI!)

Your boyfriend Jake had come home, exhausted and bloodied from fighting the workers. He had enough of Eugenes stupid antics. Daniel had reached out to him earlier, asking him for help in return for revenge. He willingly complied. Here he is, in front of you. It was just another day for you, seeing your boyfriend come home with new wounds and bruises. You always found some way to soothe him, bring the loving girlfriend you are. It never bothered him though, he knew what was going to be ahead of him ever since he found out about his dads real existence. You walk up to him, grabbing onto his arm and walking him over to the bathroom. He had texted you 10 minutes beforehand that he was going to be home, so you had prepared a warm bath for him. 

Jake takes off his clothes, submerging himself in the water. You sigh, pouring some soap into his hair as you massage his scalp. “You okay?” you start off, breaking the silence. You bring your hands down to his tense shoulders, massaging them as he hums in response. He groans a little as you start to knead from his shoulders to his upper back, muscles attempting to relax. He smiles at you, gently taking your hand in his and plants a small kiss on your knuckles. “Thanks babe,” Jake murmurs, closing his eyes to enjoy the relaxing sensation of the warm water and your hands on his body. You look at him, admiring his features for a moment before planting a kiss on his cheek, then his lips, down his jawline- Jake grabs onto you, pulling you into the water even though you were still fully clothed. “Jake-” you whine, as he places his hand under your shirt.

“Eugene is so damn annoying,” he starts. You knew that once your boyfriend started to speak, he would not shut up. You lean forward, placing your hand on his mouth.

“Shut up,” you chuckle, taking off your soaking wet clothes. You sit onto his lap, straddling his thighs with your own as you press your body against him. Jake sinks into the water a little, resting his head on the edge of the bathtub.

You use this opportunity to kiss his neck once again, starting off with a few pecks before sucking onto his skin. Jake didn't mind, in fact, he enjoyed it. He places his hands on your hips, lazily rocking them back and forth onto his crotch. Jake knew what you wanted, but you knew he was tired as he wasn’t immediately taking control. The tension that had been building up throughout the day seemed to be melting away, as you nip onto the side of his neck, down his shoulder. It was your favorite thing to do. Jake felt himself grow harder by the second, the rocking motion of your hips adding to the pleasure. Jake moves his hands up your body, stopping at your neck and lightly squeezing. You groaned at the contact, as he pushes your head back so he could properly kiss you. The kiss deepens as he slid his tongue into your mouth. Your hands wrap around his neck, tangled in his hair, eagerly pulling him closer. Jake moves his hands down to your ass, lifting your body up a little, positing himself at your entrance. He knew you were wet, and you both were desperate. You slowly sink onto him, grabbing onto his shoulders. You capture his lips into a kiss again, muffling your moans as you adjust to the stretch. Jake pulls away from the kiss, "Good girl," he whispers sensually, his hands finding its way to back to your hips, guiding her as she began to ride him. He watched in awe, the sight alone enough to make him groan in pleasure. You moan a little louder at his words, your head going fuzzy for a moment with the feeling of his throbbing yeah inside of you. Jake forgot about his exhaustion from earlier as he starts to thrust into you. Jakes thrusts were becoming sloppy, it was difficult to maintain a steady rhythm from how slippery the bathtub was LMAO. You started to quicken your pace, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach building up. You bite the bottom of your lip to muffle your moans. "Babygirl I want to hear you," Jake manages to moan out in between each thrust. Your walls clench around him, signaling how close you were. "Yes sir," you moan out breathlessly, speeding up your movements. Jake could feel himself coming close too, as his pace becomes sloppy, trying to chase his own high. Soon you both come undone, your body limping onto his. Jake brings his hands up to move a few strands of hair from your face, then caressing it. "Round 2?" You chuckle. Jake: 💀🙏

---

Why do schools like to make us suffer (finals season 😭+no sleep+ I need to wake up early+no motivation to do work or write)

[bonezone44]

Curled In(18+)

Joel x afab!Reader

Word Count: 915

tags: PWP, foot kink, toe sucking, bondage, humiliation, degradation, use of words like: whore, bitch, baby, good girl.

Author's Note: for @gasolinerainbowpuddles and all you other feet-freaky-peoples 😘

-----------------

Just tying you up took about 30 minutes. Joel wanted to be careful as he wrapped the jute rope around your body. You thought he would want you splayed out and exposed. But instead, you’re almost in the fetal position. Your arms are wrapped around your waist. Your legs are bound at the thighs, knees, and ankles. There is a single rope connecting the joinder of your knees to the harness around your chest. You can’t stretch out. You’re all curled in.

Same as Joel’s toes curling against your lips. 

“Come on, baby. Suck ‘em,” he says with a smirk. 

You’re trapped, face up, between the coffee table and the couch. You can’t turn in either direction. Well, you could have, but Joel put some of his heavy iron weights on the table and it would take a considerable effort for you to nudge it away. You know because you’ve already tried.

“I said suck ‘em,” he spits out with force, shoving his foot further into your mouth causing you to gag.

You whimper and comply, sucking down his digits. You feel dots of smoothness against the roof of your mouth and small soft pads of flesh against your tongue. His big toe is outside your lips, pressing near your chin.

You look up and all you can see is Joel’s face and the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he says, watching you keenly. “You’re fuckin’ nasty, you know that?” He laughs and wiggles the toes in your mouth. “Fuckin pathetic,” he murmurs with a smile, his eyes leaving you. 

He leans back and relaxes into the soft couch cushions. The ball of his other foot brushes down your torso, across your arms. He dips his big toe between your rope harness and your shirt. He’s able to squeeze the rope between his toes and rock your body back and forth with it. Not by much of course, but it’s enough to remind you of your tight confinement. 

He would hate for you to forget that there’s no way out.

Drool slides down your cheeks. You feel wetness in your ear.

You also feel wetness in your panties.

Joel’s foot leaves the rope and he inches it down your body like a caterpillar, scrunching and releasing his toes to move it further and further south. Across your mound. And squeezing it between the tight flesh of your bound thighs. 

“Come on, you fuckin’ whore,” he grunts with a grin. “You want my feet so fuckin bad?” He wiggles the foot between your legs. “You wanna fuck my foot, darlin?” He asks.

“Mhmm,” you whine against the foot in your mouth and shift your hips, trying to position your clit against the foot between your legs. It’s a battle to move and roll your body within such a small space. And the ropes just make it all the more difficult. 

You groan, frustrated.

“Figure it out ‘cause you’re not going anywhere til I get at least two outta ya,” he says before leaning back casually.

You squirm and twist and –finally, his big toe is pressed right against where it needs to be. 

Joel must notice you relax a little because he wiggles his foot against your clit.

You release a sharp moan from your throat, your hips curling involuntarily. 

He laughs. “Guess ya got it, then,” he mutters. He sighs and you feel him squeeze his toes on both feet–the one in your mouth and the one between your legs. “Get to it,” he says.

You do. You clutch his foot in place between your thighs and ride it as best you can from your position on the floor. It’s not easy. It’s not like when you ride his thigh. His foot is moving with you.

You try to speak, but your mouth is full.

“Hmm?” Joel looks down at you and pulls his wet toes from your lips. He rests them gently on your chin. “What’s that, whore?”

You choke on your saliva before swallowing it down. Gasping for air. “I can’t,” you croak out. “I need... pressure,” you say.

“Pressure?” he asks innocently with his chin in his hand. “Pressure where?”

“Down…” you look down at the tangle of ropes holding you in position. At Joel’s jeans. At the peek of his skin before it disappears between your legs. “...there,” you squeak.

“Where?” he asks with shit-eating grin. “Right here?” He stomps hard against your clit and moves his foot in tight circles.

“Ahhh!” you whine, a mix between pleasure and pain and face-burning humiliation. Your hips, again, curl instinctively and before you can compose yourself, you're humping against his foot in fervor. Open mouth moaning and desperate. 

“Come on, ya little bitch,” he says through gritted teeth. “Come on my foot,” he grunts. 

Your body is bouncing on the floor, restrained by the ropes and caught between a rock and hard place. Tears spring from your eyes, you want it you want it you want it you want it—

A long, pathetic whimper escapes you once you finally come. Your body trembles against the ropes. Your thighs clenching Joel’s foot. Your breaths are shaky and the drool on your face cools in the draft of the room. You blink. You sigh. You try to center yourself.

“Alright, well that’s one,” he says nonchalantly. “Ya gotta have at least two more in ya.” He shrugs. He looks down at you with disgust. He wiggles his toes, making you squirm and whine from overstimulation. “Fuckin nasty,” he grunts.

--------

[typewriter83]

Look, I just wanna prepare you because this might be the longest feedback I eve did by now for your chapters.

First of all, I loved the🌶️🌶️, thank you.

Secondly, the dina and jesse thing got me intriged and I'm mad at jesse, and I'm trying not to be mad at dina too. In one second they were treating ellie so well and in the other, bang, harsh and silent treatment. I am suspicious that maybe dina had suffered some kind of uncomfortable thing from david, but why does they keep blaming ellie for that? She didn't asked to be invited for dinner, jesse was acusing her of associating herself with the pastor and I was like "? What's going on, what does he mean?". And also, I'm also trying to figure how ellie and joel's interaction (or at least the perspective of jesse about it) could have hurt dina that much. I mean, if that girl had ptsd from past trauma with some older man when she heard about them I get it, but seemed a little more than that, like it was personal. I felt as confused as ellie in this chapter. Everyone just treated like shit and there wasn't even an explanation from their part🫠

Also, the dinner scene. Man, I'm really curious about how can someone think "oh this pastor has some trauma, he would make such a good therapist😍" It's really laughable, maria is a bit crazy. All don't know how tommy feels about it. I mean, he said he thought that was a good idea, but maybe he said that just so maria wouldn't make him sleep on the couch tonight? Maybe, I don't know. Also, I know it's wrong to laugh about it, but is it just me or it is actually funny how maria is trying to heal ellie's trauma and will give her another trauma🤦🏼‍♀️the irony, my god. David is such a creep, yikes.

Also, I'm mad at joel. He has to come out later wirh a really good explanation to why the hell did he lie to ellie to hang out with that woman. Dude, I felt ellie's betrayal. I wanted to punch him when he was laughing and walking away grrr. I really want ellie and kenny causing some jealousy on joel, we will get that??? I want him to suffer too muahahaha.

Also, by the end of the chapter I wanted to put maria, tommy, joel, dina and jesse in a room and punch all of them. They all found a way to leave poor Ellie alone and without enough options of company. Mom and Dad wannabes scared her to a point she was practically running from their house, joel and dina suddently ditched her, joel- I won't even talk about him, I'm mad at him. Oh God I was hoping things would be head for david to reach out on his plans, but if everyone else don't cooperate, ellie might be an easy target because of damn loneliness.

Oh my, I’m always overwhelmed and flattered when any of y’all take this much of an interest in something I write. Let’s see if we can’t pick this apart and put it back together for you 😘

🌶️🌶️🤭 for about a year now, I’ve been pushing myself to write for a more mature audience. Honestly, I’m taken aback that anyone likes it - and I’m not saying that to be self deprecating, it’s still something I struggle with, but I’m kind of starting to enjoy it 🫣❤️‍🔥

Let’s take everyone we’ve met and interacted with and line them: Ellie, Joel, Tommy, Maria, Dina, Jesse, David. (Side note: I’m gonna be honest about Kenny - I threw him in there because he was fun from the last universe, and I wanted Jesse to have a male friend, he really serves no purpose at this point so, he’s just there) so, everyone we’ve met and toss them into the air and jumble them up because that’s where we are - right?

Not really - everything does line up, but you as the reader just can’t see it yet because you’re only seeing it from Ellie’s perspective. When you take a second look, if you so choose, and have that piece of knowledge, that this is all from Ellie’s POV then it’s going to be confusing and it’s going to be jumbled.

Remember: Tommy is stuck between a rock and a hard place with Maria and Joel. Maria actually is the nosy busy body that I make her out to be, but she also doesn’t have all the information she needs. Dina, Jesse, and Ellie are new friends, they haven’t built up their trust yet. Joel… don’t hate him too much. David… hate him as much as you think you should.

Plus, if I gave you everything, why would you come back for chapter 9? There’s a reason why I wrote it the way I did, and I can promise that everything you’re confused about - from the Ellie/Dina/Jesse interaction, to the dinner scene, to the Ellie/Jesse scene on the porch - even the Joel/Esther interaction will make sense in due time.

Also, spoiler alert, don’t be too mad at Joel - remember, we saw him from Ellie’s point of view. That’s all I’m gonna say on that.

Thank you so much for reading and leaving such a sweet, detailed analysis comment. D&C is up next, then we’ll come back to Jackson.

🫶🏻

[sweeterthanthis]

Alright whore, you asked for this 😘

Stepdad!Bucky making reader squirt for the first time then going completely feral and shoving her face in the mess she made while he just fucks her into the mattress

Make A Mess For Daddy

Holy fuck, I did ask for this didn’t I? 🥵

Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky x 18+F!Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, jealousy, stepdad/daddy kink, p in v, squirting, humilation, mess kink. 18+.

Word Count: 500ish 

Bucky's jealously often reared it's ugly head, and he never failed to take it out on you.

He'd been waiting for you that night, sipping a whiskey over ice in his armchair when you crept through the door just after midnight - glaring at you accusingly as you kicked off your shoes and tried to ignore his frustrations.

You thought maybe tonight was different, that maybe he'd just let it go and allow you to disappear to your room without even so much as a snide remark about your date with Peter. You were wrong, of course.

"You fuck that kid tonight, huh? Walkin’ around dressed like a whore, bet he couldn’t keep his grubby hands off you." He grunts - sharp, insistent stabs of his cock against your cervix causing you to wince in discomfort. Bucky never cared for your pleasure when he was like this. Possessive, marking his territory, fucking you until all you can remember is his name. "I asked you a question. Better fuckin' answer it, princess."

"N-shit-no!" You rasp, your mouth dry from panting into the comforter. The sound of your pussy squelching around his cock is hypnotising. No other man would ever compare to him. "I didn't. I swear."

"That's right, you fuckin' didn't. You know who this slut cunt belongs to, don't you?" He fucks you harder with each word that slips from his filthy mouth, pushing you further towards the edge, an unfamiliar pressure building in your abdomen - burning between your thighs. "Let's see how much of a mess you can really make, shall we? C'mon baby, make a mess for daddy."

Bucky pulls his cock free of your cunt, nudging your knees apart as his hand slips down - fingers finding your clit and rubbing it with a ferocity that makes your eyes roll back. Your face pressed into the mattress, you sob at the pressure inside you, an intensity you've never experienced before.

"Daddy, I can't-" he shuts you up with a harsh pinch at your sensitive nub, but you can't stop. "Doesn't feel right, please, I think I need to-"

A sharp slap of his palm against your pussy sends you hurtling - bliss searing through your veins and your knees weak as you feel moisture pool beneath you.

"Well fuck, would you look at that?" Bucky hums, damp fingers curling around the back of your neck as he tugs you up against his chest. He tightens his grasp and forces your gaze down - the large, dark patch of moisture staring you in the face. "You did make a mess, didn't you baby?” 

Shame swirls in your gut as he chuckles against your ear, dragging your body backwards just enough so that when he forces you back down, your cheek squelches against the moist puddle of arousal - the taste of it marring the corner of your mouth. 

“My nasty girl, that’s what you are.” He grunts in satisfaction, sliding his cock back into your overworked channel, his balls slapping against your clit when he picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Lick it up, princess. Be a good girl and clean up after yourself.” 

God, it makes you cringe how much you enjoy it. Makes your pussy tighten up around his girth, has you rocking back against him - the globes of your ass bouncing off his hips.

You do as he says, tongue slipping out to lap at the mess beneath you; his palm splayed out against the side of your head, forcing to hold your position.

"That's it. Get it all. When you've cleaned that up, I'm gonna make a whole new mess - just for you."