#joan ferguson

[theboxedmiracle]

The bond between a lesbian and a female villain who is despised by men and the majority of the fanbase is unbreakable

[celasteria]

New Pam pics make me go

[inlovewithgreta]

could you do more governor!Joan and prisoner!reader? maybe some angst or more smut? I love your fics :)

Here's more Governor Joan and Prisoner reader just for you!! Thank you for the request as always, and thank you for loving the fics!! xo

Jealousy - Governor!Joan Ferguson x Prisoner!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summary: Joan does not take you being near Franky Doyle lightly.

Warnings: degradation, semi-public sex, oral sex (r!receiving), once again not proofread in the slightest..

Word Count: 1.8k

Taglist: @celasteria @shslbunnylover @bellatrixsbrat @coffeebreath23 @janewaykove

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were confused as to why Vera had ushered you to the Governor's office so soon after you were just outside in the yard. The authoritative figure only called you in if she needed information, but nothing out of the ordinary had happened in which information would need to be given.

Your stomach churned when after a few hasty knocks, Vera announced your presence before the Governor herself sent the deputy off for the rest of the night.

Hands fidgeted in front of you as you stood behind the now closed door, unmoved. Big, brown eyes were watching you like a hawk as the older woman stood tall next to her desk.

"Come here," she demanded, arms folded over her chest.

She looked slightly annoyed, and to your knowledge, you hadn't done anything wrong or withheld vital information from her. Yet you still did as you were told, and walked until you were mere inches from her, eyes cast down in obedience.

A surprised gasp came from you when Joan grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you flush against her body. Your hands involuntarily grasped at her hips to steady yourself as you finally locked eyes with the woman.

You took her all in, hair slightly disheveled as if her fingers were running through it constantly, ruining her usually perfect bun. Her eyebrows were knitted together, and her lips were formed into a small frown.

Those who didn't know her, would just assume she was acting her usual self. But you...well, you knew her more intimately, and knew something was clearly bothering her.

"What have I told you about Franky Doyle?" She asked, finally speaking out.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, not expecting her to bring up the brunette. "I— what?" You shook your head.

"Do not play dumb with me, slut. Answer my question. And answer it now." Her grip on your shirt merely tightened, and you knew moving would be impossible with her deathly grip.

"You told me to stay away from her..." you answered after a moment, recalling her previous words.

She had not asked you, but demanded you to stay away from her, knowing you were just Franky's type and not wanting the woman to lay her hands on you.

After all, Joan was never one to share her toys.

"And have you? Been staying away from her?" She knowingly asked, lifting a high brow.

"No, Governor..." you sheepishly lowered your eyes, cheeks growing a deep crimson at your confession.

"Such an attention seeking little whore.." she spat. "I leave for two days and this is what I come back to? You getting all handsy with her?!"

"I'm sorry..." you apologized, looking back at her with big, puppy dog eyes. "I won't do it again, Governor. I promise." Your hands gently stroked her wide hips, in hopes of soothing the woman.

That was a little trick of yours. You had quickly found out that Joan melted at your touch. Your soft, sweet, and tender touches would always ease her stress, and you used it to your advantage.

"Let me make it up to you." Your lashes fluttered as your hands eagerly wandered to her belt buckle.

"Someone's a little impatient," she noted, visibly relaxing as your hands crept under her shirt to touch her bare stomach.

"Can you blame me? Watching you get all hot and bothered with jealousy is kind of hot.." you admitted, digits roaming across her smooth skin. "Besides, I missed you so much these past few days. A girl needs some attention around here."

"Always such a little slut for attention," she growled, taking your lower lip between her teeth and tugging. Joan had no choice but to sink into your smaller figure, finally giving in to her desires.

She needed you just as much as you needed her. And yes, it was wrong. But God, did it feel so good.

Her tongue swept across your bottom lip to soothe her harsh bite as she took full dominance over your lips. Her kiss was demanding, and this time you felt yourself melting into her touch, allowing yourself to hum quietly when her hands groped your breasts.

"But Franky doesn't touch you as well as I do, now does she?" She husked against your lips, and you merely shook your head.

You hastily unbutton her shirt, needing to feel more of her. Joan would normally punish you for actions like this, but knowing how pathetically needy you were for her, she would allow it.

And when a hand found itself shoved into your pants, while the other gripped at the back of your neck, subtle moans fell past your lips as she touched all the right places.

"And she doesn't get the joys of fucking your pretty little pussy, isn't that right, slut?" She nipped at your lower lip once more.

"N-No, Governor!" You whined pathetically against her lips as you arched your back and gripped the cold wood of her desk behind you.

Joan tugged at the fabric of your clothes, only pulling apart for long enough to strip you free and leave you bare in front of her.

"You're mine. Do I make myself clear?" You gasp when Joan lifts you atop her desk, then kneels before you.

Your gaze is settled entirely on her, licking your lips at her unbuttoned shirt that showed off her perfect chest. Her eyes were blown out, and your fingers tugged at her messy hair in deliberation.

"Yes, Governor.. I'm all yours," You watch the movements of her tongue and quiver as she eagerly strokes up and down your folds.

You let out a quiet moan as you watched the woman shoving her face between your legs to devour your pussy like it was your last meal.

"Just like that, Gov. Taste me. Touch me."

You buck your hips as her tongue explores every inch of your cunt. Joan couldn't stay mad, not with you. You were her kryptonite. Her weakness. And she never thought she'd see the day where she would have any.

Just as Joan was to pay attention to your aching clit, the lights suddenly went out. You gasped at not only being surrounded by darkness, but the fact that Joan didn't stop.

Her movements only increased as she lapped at every inch of your pussy, licking a strip up your folds to then suck at your clit.

"G-Gov, the lights!" You moaned, but still didn't dare to move.

Joan chuckled between your thighs. The vibrations went straight to your core, forcing your back to arch as you threw a leg over her shoulder.

"And just like that, my little slut. Nobody will bother us for the rest of the night." You felt her smirk.

Even as the darkness enveloped both of you, Joan didn't let that stop her from finishing what she had planned to do to you. It was exactly what she was waiting for.

With everyone gone for the night, she now had a renewed determination to fuck you senseless. As a whine fell past your lips from her tongue leaving your cunt, Joan began to leave a fiery line of kisses on your thigh.

She was teasing you. Wanting to take her time with you.

You were sure your arousal was dripping down onto her wooden desk for you to clean up after, knowing Joan always made you clean up after yourself.

You let yourself relax as she explored your lower half, bracing your palms flat against the mahogany behind you.

"Fuck, you're so hot," you moaned out as Joan licked a strip up your core once more. "Fuck my pussy, Governor. It's all yours."

Her tongue circled your clit and decided now was the time to stop holding herself back. Joan's head dove between your spread thighs once more, using her tongue to ravage your pussy.

With Joan's strong hands holding you still, your head fell back as a string of moans filled the quiet room. The woman was greedy, stroking her tongue long and hard against your cunt. Hips bucked wildly.

"God, you taste so good," she hummed between kitten licks.

Both of you lost track of time as Joan, was working your body, and you were a moaning mess atop her desk. Every stroke of her tongue ignited a fire deep within you, heating you up from the inside out. Beads of sweat formed along your hairline as you chased your climax.

Heavy footsteps snaked you out of your thoughts, head whipping towards the door with wide eyes. You knew Joan had heard it when she sucked harder, only eliciting louder moans from you that you had to cover with a hand over your mouth.

"Be fucking quiet," she seethed, tightening her grip around your thighs so hard that would for sure leave marks in the future.

You jerk to move, but Joan's grip on you was deathly. She was going to finish what she started, no matter the cost.

You're on the edge and Joan can tell by your leg spasms. Your moans were muffled, but still loud, and your heart was thumping in your chest as you watched feet pass under the door, luckily not stopping.

As much as you knew you should've stopped, the thrill of them walking in sent you completely over the edge. Your body rocked into Joan's as you couldn't hold back anymore.

"Fuck!" You whined into your hands, legs merely closing in on Joan's head as she didn't let up on her tongue.

Taking your lower lip in your teeth, Joan ate your pussy through your orgasm as you came along her tongue. Hard.

You barely managed to hold back your cry as you shuddered. Body clenching over and over again as Joan swallowed every bit of come that came leaking out of your pussy.

Your body sagged against the desk, completely spent from your climax, and Joan hummed in approval before wiping her glistening chin with the back of her hand.

"Fucking janitors..." she mumbled, "Remind me to fire them for staying so late."

You hummed, and Joan couldn't help but let her lips twitch into a smirk as she finally took in your state.

Your legs were shaking, breathing was heavy, and sweat trickled down your forehead as you leaned against her wooden desk.

"What's so funny?" You asked, as Joan stood up and wrapped her arms around you.

"The fact that I know Franky could never fuck you like I do," she hovered over your lips.

You couldn't help but to playfully roll your eyes at her words. "Still on about Franky, huh?" You teased. "Jealous over little old me? I'm flattered," you smiled, pulling the woman in to a deep, lustrous kiss.

"Don't get cocky," she said, pulling your hair back and eliciting a sinful moan from you. "Now hurry up and get dressed, you still have a cell to get back to."

You heavily sighed, hopping off the desk, and surprisingly not falling on your face thanks to Joan's firm grip on your hip to keep you standing.

"What about you? It's my turn to take care of you," you asked, quickly pulling your clothes back on your body.

"I can take care of myself," she smirked, knowing the image she just put in your head at your dramatic groan.

You crossed your arms and stood rather impatiently at her door as she quickly fixed herself up in her mirror, the smirk not leaving her face at your dramatics.

Joan was nothing but a tease and a jealous woman, but she was loyal. And you knew she would wait however long it took for you to get out so she could take you wherever she pleased.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

general masterlist | pamela masterlist | taglist

[secretsofthewilde]

Joan Ferguson, a wolf's desire

Anaïs Nin, The Voice // Emily Jungmin Yoon, a Cruelty Special to Our Species // Pablo Neruda, Ode to the Apple // Tory Adkisson, Anecdote of the Pig // Margaret Atwood, More and More // Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena (via x) // unknown, (via x) // ojibwa, (via x) // Hélène Cixous, Stigmata: Escaping Texts; from ‘Love of the Wolf’, tr. Keith Cohen

[queenvictory]

[braisedluyo2]

Wentworth tax🥹

[kessellluvr]

hot women over 40 being married to the most unappealing men to exist is gonna be my downfall.

[camillelespanayesbtch]

Haven't I Given Enough? (18+)

Governor!Joan Ferguson x reader

Content Warning: Graphic depictions of violence, blood, inappropriate relationship, sexual assault (?), drugging, emotional/psychological abuse, physical abuse, eventual smut.

Chapter One

You sink your teeth into the man’s neck, biting down as you pull back, tearing a chunk of his flesh and muscle from him. You let go of him, your arms falling to your side as you land on your feet, a bloody grin spreading across your face as you watch him stumble, bringing unsteady hands up to his neck to try and stem the bleeding but it was of little use- he wouldn’t survive. No real loss to anyone, although you’re certain his mother will be the first person to sob about the loss of her precious baby boy. “You should have listened to me when I told you to not fucking touch me. But men always think they’re exempt to a woman’s boundaries.” You give him a firm shove so he falls to the ground, his head hitting the hardwood floor with a sickening crack. You watch as blood starts to pool around him, bright red, fresh, the coppery smell soon hitting your nostrils, “What an excellent trial run for my recent dental procedure, don’t you think?”

You let out a laugh when you hear sirens, turning to look at the rest of the people in the bar, “You’re all fucking cowards. People like you are the reason people like him get away with it.” You gather up most of the blood in your mouth before spitting it onto the floor then bringing your hand up to wipe the excess from your lips. You hold your hands up when the police come in, not struggling against one of them as she brings your hands behind your back, slapping a pair of cuffs around your wrists tightly before he marches you out. You flash a bloody smile at the patrons as they watch you get walked out to the awaiting patrol car.

“Careful boys!” One of the patrons calls out, “She’s a freak!” The cops wave them off, telling them to head back inside for their colleagues to question. The door to the car open and you’re shoved inside, “You try biting us, and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.”

You laugh, “Why would I? I hate pork,” you spit on the ground before the door slams shut. You sit back and close your eyes as the sirens flick on, a first-class trip to the station, lucky you.

You’re taken out of the holding cell after cuffs have been secured to your hands and feet so you couldn’t struggle as a bite mask is secure around your mouth. You couldn’t lie, the whole thing was rather exhilarating for you, being treated like such a high-risk person- how tantalizing. This was likely to try and reduce any temptation you may have to bite somebody, but you didn’t have that, not yet anyway. You smile at the officer, your mouth still visible through the clear cover, “This won’t do you much good, but I suppose if it’s of comfort to you then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”  You chuckle and get into the back of the transportation vehicle, leaning against the interior of it once seated before turning to look at the other woman traveling with you, “Oh don’t look so frightened, if you’re not a rapist or a kiddy diddler, we’ll get on just fine.”

“I’m not scared of a freak like you. There’s far worse walking around the shit-hole we’re going to than you,” she replies, looking you up and down. “You won’t last a minute in there. Just because you got those fancy teeth doesn’t mean you’ll be able to do shit to stop anything.” She leans in to touch you, to prove that she could get to you, but when you move the smallest amount, the sound of the cuffs jangling startles her and she sits back, her face going pale. For someone who isn’t afraid of you, she sure is startled by the slightest of things. Maybe she took one too many pingers and it made her permanently jumpy.

“Looks like you’re the one who isn’t going to last very long in there. Snow white whose skin’s as fair as snow.” You chuckle and shift, getting comfortable in the seat as you watch the other woman. She wasn’t going to win. You were going to keep a mental note of every single person who tried you. It didn’t matter if you got them back immediately because sometimes the wait was far more thrilling, watching them flinch every time you were near, the way they were constantly looking over their shoulders to make sure you weren’t there, the way they’d rush to their next destination in fear of bumping into you. Did you actually ever do anything to them? Technically no. Psychological harm leaves no visible scars; their twitchiness could be brushed off as severe anxiety, perhaps even autism or ADHD. Nobody would believe them if they spoke about how you were intimidating them… Well, not before your face was plastered on the news for the brutal murder of that man. Oh you can hear them now, “I always knew there was something off about her. She has this dead look to her eyes. Only psychopaths have that.”  You chuckle and shake your head, leaning your head back against the wall and closing your eyes as you focus on the sound of the car on the road, and the absence of city noise. You were heading out to the whop whops, the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.

You don’t open your eyes until the vehicle comes to a stop, the woman you were riding with was banging on the door to be let out so she wouldn’t have to spend another minute with you. You can’t help but laugh when she falls out when the doors open, one of the awaiting correction officers pulls her up and leads her away. You move towards the opening, stepping down before stretching as best you could, turning your head to look up at the night sky and letting out a pleased hum, “Fresh air, so much nicer than in the city.”

When you look around, your eyes land on an imposing woman whose hair was slicked back in a tight bun, even in the dim lighting you could tell there wasn’t a single hair out of place, no fly-aways, no frizz, nothing. Her uniform was likely starched and freshly pressed, the buttons polished and the crowns on her shoulders perfectly symmetrical. You tilt your head slightly as you run your eyes up the buttons of her blazer to her face, your cheeks going pink when you notice the slight smirk on her face, and you notice- Oh, there it is, the same look in her eyes that you have, or perhaps the lack of something, the absence of life. The corners of your lips turn up in a predatory grin, and for a moment you felt devilish, your tongue coming out to run along the teeth you bared, “I feel like I’m the guest of honor having someone like you waiting here to greet me. Do you want an autograph? Or something more personal? I assure you, my bite doesn’t hurt that much.”

The imposing woman lets out an amused chuckle and you felt flattered that you’d elicited such a response, “You’re a high-risk inmate, I have to ensure that you don’t cause any chaos in my prison.” She runs her eyes over you without moving her head, most of the other women were too scared to do what she needed done, fearful of retribution from other inmates, but that little bite guard around your mouth, and the chains ensuring you couldn’t attack anyone told her that you were what she needed. She was going to have fun with you, and she was certain you would enjoy every minute of it too. “Process her, and take her to protection for the night. Miss Bennett and I will assess tomorrow whether or not she is suited for general.”

“Protection?” You ask with a pout, almost upset you wouldn’t get to meet any of the other inmates yet, “I’m wounded.” You laugh when, who you can only assume is Miss Bennett ushers you into the prison to be processed. You had no doubt in your mind that there was a reason for you coming here so late in the evening, the absence of  the other inmates trying to intimidate new-comers was noticeable and it frustrated you that you wouldn’t get to experience it, but word travels fast in prisons so by morning you were certain that they would know there was someone special in their midst. “Miss Bennett,” you draw out the ‘iss’ and add emphasis to the ‘B’ of her name, a childlike smile on your face and glee in your eyes, “Is this where you feel me up and play it off as protocol?” The smile drops from your face when you’re stopped in a room, looking at her, “Because if your hand goes anywhere near my cunt, I’ll rip the fucker off.”

Miss Bennett falters slightly, her eyes narrowing slightly and briefly, “Which is why you’ll be remaining cuffed, Miss Smythe. We wouldn’t want you having any additional charges added to your docket now, would we? You’ll be patted down seeing as you’re already in a corrections uniform. I trust my colleagues at the precinct did a sufficient job in ensuring you weren’t concealing anything.” She goes to put on a pair of latex gloves when the door opens again, “I was just about to pat her down, Governor Ferguson,” Miss Bennett informs the much taller woman.

“I will be conducting the search, Miss Bennett. I do, however, would like you to uncuff Miss Smythe.” The governor watches as Vera tentatively starts to remove the cuffs from you, the mousy woman nearly jumping out of her skin when you scare her before you stretch, your bones letting out satisfying cracks. “Leave us.”

“But, Governor, she’s a high-“

“I won’t repeat myself, Miss Bennett, I find it tedious.” She replies dryly, her eyes never leaving yours. She pulls something from the inside pocket of her blazer, and at first you couldn’t figure out what they were until you watch as she pulls the smooth black leather gloves onto her large hands, fitting her snuggly and reflecting the harsh sterile lighting in the room. She pushes down between each of her fingers to make sure they fit properly, like a ritual. You notice her nostrils flare somewhat when she’s satisfied. Finally her eyes return to you, the dark brown almost black and you feel the air being pulled from your lungs, “Remove your clothes.”

“Want me to be sensual with it for you, Governor? Or do you prefer a quick strip?” You ask, running your hands over your chest then down your body before laughing although the sound is cut short when she slaps you hard across the face, her own features expressionless. “Rough,” you rub your cheek before removing your clothes, taking the time to fold them and neatly put them off to the side which greatly pleases the older woman although she wouldn’t admit it.

You unclip your bra, adding it to the pile along with your underwear once you’ve removed them. You hold your arms out to the side, standing still while she examines you. Her touch was methodical, making sure she didn’t miss an inch of you least she gloss over something you were concealing, although she doubted you would try to when your mere existence was a weapon. Her hands lift up each breast, her finger running underneath them to feel for anything before she lets go. You couldn’t help but feel like your breathing was too loud, or was it that the room was far too silent for your liking? The silence, you found, had always been particularly suffocating, and now it only seemed to be far worse. You try taking a quieter breath, but even that seemed piercing in this room. Her hand moves lower, causing every synapse in your brain to fire, and before you realize what you were doing, your hand was wrapped tightly around her wrist forcing it back, “Don’t fucking touch me or I’ll rip your fucking face off.”

“Unhand me, or I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again,” she replies cooly, “I don’t imagine someone like you prefers social isolation, no natural light, no interaction even from the guards.” She moves her other hand lower, running over the slight bump of your stomach, her fingers touching the curls at the top of your pubis, “Do you have something to hide, Miss Smythe?”

You feel your blood run cold, letting go of her hand out of fear and stepping back until you’re against the wall, “No- No, I don’t. I don’t need to smuggle anything in. It’s just my teeth- Just my teeth, Go- Governor, I swear.” Your fear intrigued her, was this the reason why you were so violent? Because someone had taken something from you when you were unable to defend yourself? She lets out a hum, she would have to re-read your file. Joan knew that fear was an excellent motivator, perhaps all she had to do was break you down and rebuild you. The thought thrilled her, reinvigorated her. How delicious. “Please,” you plead, “I swear I don’t have anything. They- they checked me before transporting me here. I- I didn’t trade anything because the bitch was frightened of me.”

You were scared, now what you needed was kindness. “You poor thing,” she says surprisingly softly, moving carefully towards you, “So much change in such a short span of time, no wonder you’re so on edge.” She reaches out to gently stroke your cheek, her thumb brushing across the swell of it, the cool glove a wonderful contrast to your burning skin. Her features had softened considerably, a tenderness in her eyes that had you, against your better judgement, leaning into her touch. “When you’re ready, how about you put your clothes back on, and I will walk you to your cell for the night, hm? I’m sure I can arrange for a hot beverage of your liking to make you a little more comfortable.”

“I-“ God, you didn’t realize how tired you were until she mentioned going to your cell, your eyes suddenly heavy, “I just want some sleep,” you whisper, your eyes drifting shut as she continues to caress your cheek, “I haven’t- I haven’t slept in a few days. I just- I can’t let my guard down-“

“I know you do,” she moves her hand from your face before helping you get dressed, her touch never lingering long as to avoid putting you on edge again. She smooths your clothing out, the action helping to soothe you further, “There we go, all better, hm? Come on, let’s get you to your new accommodation.” Joan offers you a brief smile which brings color to your cheeks, her hand resting on the center of your back as she guides you out of the room, “Once you’re there, I’ll remove that nasty little bite guard from you. I can’t imagine it’s terribly comfortable for you. What a nasty thing.”

“It’s not- It’s not terrible,” you reply quietly, “Safety is more important than my comfort, don’t you think? It’s why they put it on me. But-“ You giggle a bit, “I suppose it would make it difficult for me to enjoy the drink you were offering.” The only sound in the building was coming from your feet on the ground, Joan’s shoes making a delicious clicking that, you couldn’t deny, was something you thoroughly enjoyed. You wonder if the other staff’s shoes would make the same sound, if you would be able to differentiate between theirs and Joan’s. Not that you were already infatuated with the woman, you weren’t going to forget what she tried doing to you so easily, just for now you were going to put it to the back of your mind. Were you easily convinced? Bought off with a hot chocolate? Maybe just for tonight. Just for tonight.

When you arrive at your destination, Joan gestures for you to enter the cell, “You get comfortable, and I’ll return shortly with that drink- Does hot chocolate suit? I can have it made with chocolate sauce just this once.” She gives you that smile again and you return it with a slight nod of your head. The older woman lets out a satisfied hum before shutting the door and leaving. You weren’t the youngest woman in the prison by any means, but there was something about you that was so different to everyone else, something better and she was going to do her best to ensure that it flourishes. She adds the chocolate sauce to the mug, mixing in something special before adding the hot milk, putting a few marshmallows on top for good measure. Joan gives it another stir, tapping the teaspoon against the mug before putting it in the sink then returning to you. She focuses on the sound of her feet on the linoleum, counting her breath with each step, a steady pace, a confident stride. She draws in a deep breath through her nose, exhaling slowly and putting that warm, friendly smile on her face that you were receptive to. She knocks on the door to your cell before unlocking it and opening it, “One hot chocolate with marshmallows.”

“With marshmallows too?” You smile and take the mug from her with thanks, “You should be careful, Governor, too much tlc and people might get jealous, or think you have a thing for me. Wouldn’t such a thing put a target on my back?” You sit back, bringing your knees up and resting the mug on top of your knee as you watch her. You pluck out a marshmallow with your tongue before chewing on it, letting out a happy hum. You usually didn’t like marshmallows, but sometimes you have a hankering for them, and when you do finally get them, you love it- the soft chew, or in this case, the stickiness that comes from them being partially melted.

“It’s a one off, Miss Smythe. Just to make your first night easier on you.” She had taken her gloves off by this point, clasping her hands together at the front of her waist as she watches you. She wasn’t fond of marshmallows, finding the texture unpleasant especially as they start to melt. “I don’t imagine a woman like you would have any difficulty standing up for yourself given you had no issue doing it in a bar full of rowdy patrons.”

“I don’t make a habit of ripping people’s throats out, Governor.” You start to sip the drink, you were happy it was sweet as it helped to cut through the richness of the chocolate sauce. Your eyes shut briefly as you think back to the times where you had wanted to rip out more people’s throats, but at that point in time, your degree was far more important to you than immediate retribution. In all your time of having violent fantasies, the one thing that always stopped you from acting on them was your future- your dream, your goal. Psychologists had told you that this was narcissistic, anti-social behavior, but you simply didn’t care. Your future was far more important than other people’s feelings on the matter, on how you should behave and treat people because at the end of the day, you were the only one putting in the work, the only one cheering yourself on, not them. Not anybody. Just you. But of course, some man had to go and ruin a good thing, didn’t he? They just can’t help themselves. You let out a tsk before opening your eyes again, “I’d advise keeping the male staff away from me, Governor.”

Now that was interesting, perhaps a solution to a thorn in her side had just landed perfectly within her grasp- Fletcher. What a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a human being. “Don’t tell me you’re showing me your cards before the game has truly started,” Joan drawls, an amused look on her face, “I can’t have you threatening harm to my staff.”

“It’s not a threat, Governor Ferguson, it’s informing you of the inevitable should any be near. Now, that isn’t to say that I won’t be cordial if they are, but I won’t tolerate any man talking to me like I’m some object, someone’s property.” You drink some more, your head starting to feel foggy but you put that down to fatigue, “Shit-“ You go to put the mug to the side but miss the table, Joan moving quickly to help you put it on, murmuring a “careful.” You blink a few times, your eyes struggling to focus and now you were starting to put the pieces together, “You-“ You force your head up to look at her, “You drugged me?” You slur, trying to take a swing at her but you fall to the side, onto your bed, “Fucking-“

Joan moves you so you were laying comfortably, pulling the thin sheets over your body, “Yes yes, go on about how I’m a bitch. The usual diatribe gets rather tedious when it isn’t your first time hearing it. However, you will thank me in the morning for being able to get a good sleep your first night here.” Her face was so close to yours that you could smell her breath, peppermint, the kind that made your mouth hurt when you would drink cold water after. “Don’t take this small act of generosity for granted. You’ll think of it when I offer you deals in future, and if you’re good,” she uses a finger to brush a strand of hair from your face, “You’ll reap the rewards.”

Her words filled your head like molasses, but you didn’t have the energy to reply to her, your eyes rolling back into your head as the effects of the sedative kick in. A dreamless sleep was a blessing, you just wouldn’t be appreciative of it for a while- certainly if you were denied your antipsychotics. You did know, however, that this Governor Ferguson was an enigma that you wanted to crack. You just didn’t know if you would break first.

[jove999]

I finished watching Wentworth!! Here are some of my favorite characters

[phryneluvbot]

Happy May the 4th be with you for those who celebrate

[joansfaveguppy]

Yes… mommy- not sorry. She is mommy

[celasteria]

[inlovewithgreta]

Fencing Master - Joan Ferguson x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summary: Your fencing lesson takes a surprising but welcoming turn.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, Dom!Joan, Sub!Reader, degradation, age gap, praise, glove kink, semi-public sex, squirting, swearing, slight size kink?

Word Count: 2.3k

Taglist: @shslbunnylover

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Ugh- Fuck!" you groaned, letting your sword fall dramatically to the ground in defeat. "This is such bullshit," you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You're weak," a lowered crisp voice responded, long dark locks of black and grey stray hairs falling from your fencing partner's messy braid as she took her protective helmet off to scold you. "You're not shifting your weight properly, and your arms are like noodles." She grabbed your limp arm to prove her point.

"I'm doing what you taught me!" You tore your own helmet off, letting your gaze meet the darkened eyes of the woman in front of you.

"Not good enough. You're better than this," she stated. "Let's go again." She demanded, putting her helmet back on, and gripping her fencing sabre tightly with her dark, leather gloves.

Your eyes fell to her hand after hearing her leather grip, before letting out a deep breath and fixing your own helmet back onto your head. It was hard to ignore the beads of sweat along your forehead, after all, the two of you have been at this for hours.

After the sparring began again, you were quicker on your feet, planning your movements before attacking. But Joan was quicker. More advanced. More thought-through. She knew what you were doing before you even did it. Joan knew how you worked, how your brain thought.

She quickly picked up on it, and as soon as she felt your confidence grow, letting you think you were going to win, your movements becoming almost too predictable, she lunged at you. Her movements caught you off guard and you tripped over your own foot. Joan was quick to catch your hand but wasn't quick enough and was pulled down with you, both of you falling with synchronized grunts.

"What the fuck was that?" You huffed, tearing your mask off once again and tossing it beside you, too shocked by your fall to realize Joan had fallen on top of you.

"It's sad, really. How I know your every thought. Every move. It's pathetic. I thought I trained you better than this. To lead with your body, not with your mind. Your body knows best." Her own mask flew elsewhere, gloved hands sitting just beside your head as she talked down to you.

"Maybe I just need a better teacher," you seethed, gritting your teeth and letting out a much needed sigh.

"Or maybe you just need another lesson," she sternly stated, using a hand to undo the velcro holding her top together to allow herself breathe easier.

Joan caught the glimpse you stole from her neck to her chest that were coated in small beads of sweat, and took it upon herself to test the waters even more. After all, she did know you better than you even knew yourself.

"You must learn to control your body. Control your thoughts." A gloved hand slipped to your neck, the cold, leathery feel sending a chill down your spine and your body to shiver under her touch that didn't go unnoticed. "Do you think I haven't caught onto you? Your not-so-subtle glances in my direction. That pathetic little doe-eyed look you give me when I praise you. The hunger in your eyes when I degrade you. It's quite obvious what direction your mind goes in." Her knee slid between your inner thighs, forcing a quiet moan from you. "You're liking this, aren't you, little one?"

Your breathing was shaky as you laid in awe, hyper fixating on the leathery material wrapped around your neck and the knee that pressed roughly against your core. When you didn't respond, Joan squeezed her hand on your throat tighter.

"Answer me," she demanded. Lips hovered just mere inches above your own, and the smell of her musky perfume mixed with the leathery gloves were driving you mad.

"Y-yes, Miss Ferguson," you whimpered. Innocent eyes gazed at her with longing, and a dark, seductive undertone that the older woman was craving from you.

"Joan," she said. "You may call me Joan, but only when we are like this. Around others I am still your teacher, your superior. Got it?" She lifted a brow.

"Yes, Miss— Joan," you corrected yourself.

"Good girl. Now are you ready for your next lesson?" A smirk toyed at her tight lips at how easy this all was. You were always her best student. So quick to learn, so eager to do better, so... hungry for her validation, and Joan just wanted nothing more than to feed you it.

Her best student. Her neediest student. Pinned beneath her with a flushed face. Hair sprawled beautifully out around your head. Those lips parted, inviting her in. And those eyes. Fuck... Looking up at her through those curled wispy lashes. How someone like you could be so pure yet so filthy all at the same time. How someone half her age could possibly find her attractive, but she wasn't about to complain.

"Mhm," you nodded your head. "I'm ready for you to teach me about..?" you trailed off, with puppy dog eyes, expecting her to finish your sentence for you.

"Don't be stupid." You squirmed at her words, Joan's hand leaving your neck to unzip and rid you of your protective fencing top, with the help of you lifting your body to slide it off with ease. "You know exactly what I'm going to teach you, don't you? Or do I need to stop what I'm doing and teach you a lesson about listening first?" She gave a faux pout, retracting her hands all-together.

"No- please, Joan!" You instinctively grabbed her leather covered hand, and returned it to your neck, where it had since grown cold from her missing touch. Your expected urgency to keep her going forced a small chuckle from the older woman. "Teach me about control. P-Please. Help me control my body. I need it. I need you, Joan. Please teach me." Your hips bucked with desire, needing her knee to push your button harder.

"You're pathetic, dear." She admitted with a lick to her lips that your eyes followed. "But that's a lesson for another day." Her mouth crashed into yours, leaving you breathless. Her kisses were passionate. Hungry. Demanding. Tongue completely dominating your own, completely expected on both of your ends.

One of your hands grabbed roughly at her top, pulling her unimaginable closer while the other went to her hair. More specifically, her braid. Fingers wrapped around the messy strands and pulled, earning the most subtle moan from the woman.

As much as she liked it, you weren't the one in charge. This was a lesson. And you needed to be taught. She couldn't lose control. Not now. Not today.

She grabbed your wrist tightly, pulling away from her hair but still allowing you to touch her, leaving your hand atop her own that stayed holding onto your throat. This moment was about you, not her.

After repositioning herself to a straddling position, the loss of her knee against your core cause a whimper to escape, missing her touching your needy center.

"So disappointing..." she said with a frown, allowing you both to catch some much needed air. "Can't even reposition myself to better aid your lesson without you whining like a needy little slut." Her hand strained against the leather glove on your neck, wanting to squeeze tighter but having to refrain herself in fear of pushing you too far too fast.

"I'm sorry—" you were cut off by a finger pressed to your lips. "Don't you dare apologize. You do not apologize for that. You own it. Own up to what you are. Let me hear you say it. Say what you are." Her dark eyes gazed at you expectedly, awaiting a response. The correct response.

"I-I'm a needy little slut," you let out a shaky breath, finding it hard to read your fencing master's expression after your admission. Those words, however, helped the damp patch between her legs grow even more. She could get off on those words alone.

"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Hmm?" She planted a rewarding kiss to your plump lips as her hand trailed down to your pants. You mumbled a 'no' as velcro was undone, zipper went down, and your hips lifted as you shimmied out of your fencing uniform entirely. All that covered you was a thinly cropped white tank top, and a pair of fitted shorts that just barely covered your ass.

Joan held back a groan at your tinier figure. She was much bigger than you. Much stronger. Much more dominating. The idea of her much thicker, longer fingers, filling you had her heart thudding rapidly in her chest with anticipation. She couldn't wait to see how many fingers you could take. And you were thrilled to find out for yourself.

"Joan..." you faintly whispered the older woman's name as her lips made their way to your neck. "Need you.. so bad..please! I've been doing so good for you. So—so good," you begged her as she left marks along your neckline, soothing her bites with a gentle tongue.

Feeling generous to your pleas, Joan allowed a single hand to roam down the center of your chest, purposely ignoring your breasts as she ran her hand lower. The ticklish spot just below your navel etched into her memory when you let out a very audible hum and your belly twitched beneath her wandering fingers.

"Will you continue to be good for me?" she asked, allowing her hand to skim beneath your waistband but stopping purposely just before reaching your center.

"God- yes, Joan! I'll be so good. Such a good girl for you, just fuck me. I'm begging you. I need you." Her mouth returned to yours, hovering just close enough to your lips.

"I don't hear a please..." she tutted, fingers just barely grazing your clit.

"Please—" words were cut short when you let out your first sinful moan at her fingers circling your precious bundle of nerves. Joan loved that noise coming from you, telling herself she would do whatever it took to keep you going.

Her leather-clad fingers worked wonders as she occasionally pressed harder against your button that forced your hips to grind against the dominating woman's hand.

"Oh, Joan! Just like that," your eyes fluttered shut but the ravenette ceased her fingers. "Keep those eyes open, my little whore. I want to see you."

Your eyes glistened as you reopened them, gaze fixating on Joan's dark, hooded eyes, all color completely gone at her dilated pupils. "That's my good girl. Such a good listener for me."

"Joan...I- I'm gonna...." Your body twitched as you felt your nearing release. The woman above you smirking before shoving two digits inside your pussy, that clenched around her.

"Not yet...Fuck, you're so tight.." she moaned at your restricted walls as she began fucking you with her fingers. The new sensation drove you wild. Her fingers were rather large, more slender, and more skilled than yours. "This little pussy belongs to me now, yes?" She asked, raising her usual eyebrow.

"Y-yes, of course!" You shook your head with a cry when her fingers dove deeper and skillfully rubbed the soft-spongy spot that had your pussy fluttering around her digits.

"Say it. I need you to say it," she pinched your hardened nipple between her thumb and pointer finger, eliciting a hearty moan from you. "Say it or you don't get to come." The pain mixed with pleasure fills you with euphoric madness.

"My pussy is yours...All yours, Joan! I p-promise it's only yours from now on..." You felt dirty at the own words coming out of your mouth but at the same time have never been more turned on.

"That's what I like to hear. You're mine now. Only I get to fuck and stretch this tight pussy of yours. Only me..." She forcefully took your lips with hers, pulling your bottom lip between her teeth before shoving her tongue in your mouth.

Your walls clenched unimaginably tighter, making it harder for Joan's fingers to fuck you but she was relentless, ensuring you would get the release you were craving.

"Come for me, woman. Let me feel you." She whispered against your lips, your loud moans being muffled by her ravenous mouth enclosing your own in a hungry kiss.

Her palm pushing against your clit was the last straw to have your body filling with immense heat as you fell over the edge. Your body shaking, breasts pushing into hers as your back arched from the ground, and fingers mindlessly digging into the back of her neck as you held her.

"Oh...oh fuck! Joan—" You cried out, wetness covered your inner thighs as you mindlessly squirted from the monstrous strokes coming from her leather coated fingers that didn't dare stop as you rode out your orgasm.

"That's it, let go...Come for me.." Her husky voice caused a guttural moan to fall past your lips. She went to go suck the flesh on your neck, but your fingers pulled at her hair, forcing her mouth to lavish yours once more. Needing her mouth on yours more than ever.

"Mmmph..." Your teeth clamping down onto the dominant woman's bottom lip forced a groan from the ravenette as your pussy clamped tightly around her digits that slowly removed themselves from you.

"Congratulations..." Joan smirked, tongue darting out to lick her now swollen bottom lip, tasting a familiar metallic liquid. It slightly stung from your harsh bite as you partially punctured her, but she found herself to be proud of what you've done. "You've passed your first lesson. It's remarkable what one can do if they just... listened.."

Your tired and hooded eyes couldn't help but roll at words, knowing she was completely right, but you didn't dare to admit it to her just yet.

After all, you still wanted another lesson.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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[secretsofthewilde]

[lifeislikeasong]

Where are my Wentworth people at?! ♥️♥️♥️

So, Katrina’s more or less confirmed that a Wentworth spinoff is in the works… First of all: YAYYYY!! 🎉🥳🎉🥳🎉

Second: If it’s true, I hope to whatever God is out there that Nicole and Libby return. There’s still so much more to Fridget that needs exploring. I love Franky and Bridget’s love so much and feel that their story was far from completed. We need them back…or at least, I do. That couple is everything to me 😭😭😭

Heard a rumour on Twitter that Nic might not be interested and that hurts my little Wentworthian heart 😭😭😭 Anyone else get the feeling like she’s losing interest in her role and the impact she’s had in the LGBT+ community? She doesn’t interact with Libby much, either 😭😭😭 I get that people need to move on, but Franky is such a loved, special character.

No hate is directed towards anyone, I guess I’m shocked at the news in a good way and just hope that all the OG’s return.

I need Boomer, Rita, Lou, Bridget, Franky, Will and Vera to return…I wanna see what the Freak has been up to 👀👀