older!joel is back! joel is a complete pervert in this, but the reader likes it. +18
older!joel was so lonely (and needy) that he fixed his attention on you: the young, sweet neighborhood mail carrier. yes, it was creepy, but at his age, no decent young woman would notice him unless he had to pay them.
joel waited for you every morning, sitting on his porch with a cup of hot coffee. his gaze was fixed on the street corner, and as soon as he heard the sound of your bicycle bell, a smile would form on his lips.
you pedaled along peacefully, tossing newspapers into the neighbors' yards, unaware of joel's intense gaze upon you. he admired your legs, the way your hair moved in the wind, and your subtle expression of concentration.
joel stroked his erection through his nightgown, imagining that it was your hands giving him such pleasure. sometimes, if he was lucky, you wore light dresses that, on more than one occasion, allowed him a glimpse of your delicate underwear.
soon, you began to notice joel's presence, and a ritual began between you. you would ride by on your bicycle, and he would greet you amicably with a wave, to which you would respond with a subtle smile. once you look back to the front, joel would slip his hand into his underwear and masturbate, thinking of your sweet face.
gradually, he began to take more risks. on one occasion, he came out to greet you as usual, only this time he was wearing just his robe. when you looked to greet him, part of his thick, seeded dick protruded from his robe, throbbing as if it were returning your greeting. your cheeks flushed instantly, and you almost fell off your bicycle at the sight. for a moment, joel thought he had scared you, but the next day you rode by again, acting as if nothing had happened, even glancing down to look for that surprise.
that motivated joel even more, who woke up every morning with an erection at the thought of seeing you walk down his street.
you walked past his street as usual, only this time joel didn't greet you. instead, he gestured for you to come closer, which you did.
"sweetheart, i'm sorry to bother you. my glasses fell under the sofa, and as you can see, my back is not like it used to be. could you help me?"
"of course, mr. miller."
you left your bike in his yard and walked into his house, right into the lion's den. with his hand on your bare shoulder, he guided you to the living room, where the sofa was.
"it must be under there, sweetheart..."
without a second thought, you knelt on the floor and stretched out to look under the sofa. your shorts rode up, revealing the curves of your buttocks and the beginning of your pink underwear. all this happened right in front of Jjoel, who couldn't resist placing his hand on your buttocks and squeezing them firmly.
you jumped, a gasp of surprise escaping your throat. turning around, you saw joel. even more imposing in front of you as you remained on the floor, a mischievous smile accentuating his wrinkles and the gray streaks in his hair.
"i'm sorry, i couldn't resist. you've been tempting me for weeks, and an old man like me can't pass up an opportunity like this. who knows, maybe this is my last week."
his dark eyes sparkled, and his words moved you so much that you didn't notice him slipping one hand inside his robe.
"it's alright, mr. miller. don't worry."
"attagirl. let me show you to the door. i don't want you getting into trouble because of this old man."
before leaving, you noticed his glasses perched perfectly on the entryway table.
the art of breaking (dark!joel miller x f!reader; dead dove do not eat)
the art of breaking part one | part two
very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader
Word Count: 10k
Summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.
written for the #deaddovedecember2023 event hosted by @romana-after-dark | also on ao3 | dedicating this to @kewwrites, who is a master and icon of unsettling-but-still-romantic dark fic & whose incredible vibes made me feel brave enough to write this. love you ty 🖤
dividers by @saradika-graphics
NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.
Seriously, I am saying this as clearly as I can: read the warnings carefully. If anything listed is something you don’t want to read, don’t. The working title for this was “the darkest joel” for a reason (and I actually tamed it down/cut out some of the intense scenes). It’s modern-day/no outbreak, but Joel still lost Sarah and went off the deep end. He was probably a good dom at some point, but now he’s just fucked up.
If you're worried it'll be too dark, it probably will be.
Warnings under the cut:
Warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, semi-permanent damage (a bone is broken, I’m not fucking around), whipping, spanking, face slapping, tit slapping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, anal, vaginal, degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, edging, denial, dacryphilia, bastinado (mentioned), restraints, very brief knifeplay, tiny drop of blood play, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare
Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it.
Please read responsibly.
I. in media res
-the fracture
There’s one comfort Joel almost never denies you.
Well, never denies himself.
Unless you’ve been real bad, you always take your place in bed with him at the end of the day. You think it’s so he has easy access to you if he wakes up horny, but honestly, that happens a lot less than expected. He works hard all day; he needs his sleep.
No, he likes the comfort of your warm body next to his. The way you curl up and press kisses to him, no matter how bad he hurt you during the day. His sweet little pet, desperate for every bit of his affection you can earn. He’s always gentle with you here.
It’s part of what makes The Pit so effective.
It fucks with your brain on so many levels, exposes you to so many fears, and then you have to reconcile that you were bad enough for Joel to deny himself the comfort of you in his arms at night. That you’re so undeserving of his love.
Of all of the ways he punishes you, this will be the worst. You can take the humiliation, the pain—not easily, but you can, and there’s usually immediate care after.
But a night in The Pit will tear you down completely.
You hadn’t known what to expect when he said you’d have to spend the night alone, but it wasn’t this.
“No, please,” you scream, stumbling to keep up as Joel pulls you by your hair.
“Shut up,” he snarls.
The soil is loose, clinging to your sweat as you try to right yourself. It’s a futile effort. When you reach The Pit, he holds you down with his boot on your chest while he unlocks and opens the bars.
“Get in,” he says.
You’re sobbing and shaking, skin already gone cold. Somehow, you manage to obey.
The Pit is exactly what it sounds like. It has an open wooden frame with mesh on the side walls to keep the dirt in place. The bottom is bare soil. Mounted to the top of the beams is a grate of bars that sit flush with the ground.
It’s big enough for you to curl up at the bottom—which is what you do now.
“I’m sorry,” you cry.
He shuts and locks the gate.
II. from the start
-intact
It was kismet, really, that he was there that night. He didn’t usually go out for drinks with the guys, not wanting to be the boss who was always cramping their style. But Tommy had dragged him out tonight, and so he was witness (with the rest of the pub) to your relationship falling apart.
And okay, maybe he went outside for a smoke after you moved the fight to the alley so he could eavesdrop. But it wasn’t his fault. How could he not?
You had said, “Maybe you’re just not man enough for me,” to the brawny but pathetic prick across from you in the booth. “Wanting you to be rough doesn’t make me a freak.”
“That’s not rough; that’s fuckin’ abuse. You’re sick,” your boyfriend had practically shouted.
The discussion evolved into a screaming match in the alley, where Joel had been pleased to be right. It was about more than just a little rough sex or spanking.
At the end of it, your boyfriend stormed off, and you went back in the pub. Joel found you at the bar, throwing back another shot and wiping your tears away.
“You did good back there,” he says.
You startle and look at the stranger. The very handsome stranger. Rugged, with a salt and pepper beard and a scar across his nose.
“What do you mean?”
“Standin’ up for yourself. Not a lot of people woulda been confident enough. ‘Specially not a girl lookin’ for that.”
You glare at the bar counter. “M’not a weirdo.”
“Nah, you’re not. Shit like that is perfectly normal. He’s just pathetic.”
You look back up at him, and he sticks one hand in his pocket, trying to adjust himself discreetly. The tear streaks on your cheeks are getting to him.
“I don’t know. He’s probably right. It’s not your garden variety shit,” you say. The tequila and his gentle eyes have loosened your tongue.
“I doubt that. Try me,” he says.
“What?”
“Try me. Tell me what he freaked out over, and I’ll tell ya if it’s weird. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”
You hesitate, but he looks genuine and kind. “I asked him to hit me. Like, in the face. And to, y’know, pin me down and—” you trail off.
“And make ya take it?” he guesses.
You nod. “He thought I like, I dunno, actually wanted to be raped,” you whisper the last word, eyes darting to the people around you.
Joel laughs. “Honey, that’s so normal, you wouldn’t believe. I’ve helped ladies out with that little roleplay more times than I can count. If that’s your deepest, darkest fantasy, and he couldn’t take it, then you’re better off without him.”
“It’s not,” you mumble.
“Speak up, honey.”
“It’s not my deepest, darkest fantasy. It’s probably one of the least of them.”
He grins. “Then you’re definitely better off. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with likin’ things on the darker side, sweetheart.”
You’re feeling hot all over and are about to ask him more when your phone rings. It’s your idiot boyfriend, who’s realized you have the car keys.
“I better go. Thank you,” you say, standing and offering him your hand.
He gives it a firm shake, tipping his head. “I’m Joel. And if you’re ever so inclined, I’d like to take you out sometime.”
You laugh. “Let me break up with my boyfriend first, Joel.” But you dig a pen out of your purse and write your number on one of the tiny bar napkins.
Your first date was so normal. You’re not sure what you expected. To jump right to hardcore sex?
But no, he turns up at your door in a neatly pressed green button-up, black slacks, and an ostentatious belt buckle. He greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of wildflowers, lavender stalks nestled between pink honeysuckle and red salvia. Not a traditional arrangement, but it reminds you of a summer sunset.
“From my garden,” he says a little sheepishly, but you like them a lot better than some generic store display. You tell him as much and his cheeks flush a little.
You return the kiss and pop the flowers in a vase of water before he sweeps you off in his pickup. You aren’t surprised, really, but it’s more charming than some of the other men and their gaudy trucks.
Joel’s is older but well-kept, with minimal rusting around the wheel wells. The bed is open, and you can see streaks of grease and paint spills. A silver tool chest is mounted against the back of the cab. Everything inside and out has a light coating of sawdust.
He isn’t some insecure man with a truck big enough to make up for what isn’t in his britches, that’s for certain. You’d hazard a guess that the corded muscle of his forearms and the breadth of his shoulders are well-earned.
He holds the door open for you, which you tease him for as you slide onto the truck’s bench seat.
“Ain’t doin’ it ‘cause you’re incapable,” he drawls. “Or because you’re a lady,” he adds when he sees the glint in your eye.
“Oh yeah, cowboy?”
His grin is lopsided, a little dark. “Nah. I just think you deserve to be taken care of, s’all.”
You flush, the back of your neck burning, but you don’t fight the smile that threatens to break out. “Thank you, Joel.”
He shakes his head. He’s pretty sure, now, that if he plays his cards right, he’s found somethin’ special.
He waits three whole dates to take you to bed, and even then, it doesn’t start dirty.
“Let me get to know your body first, baby,” he urges when you ask him to fuck you rough. Instead, he takes you apart piece by piece. First with his tongue, and then his fingers. He brings you to the edge over and over, but never lets you fall.
After a while, you’re a broken record, pleas and sobs spilling from you.
“That’s music to my ears, darlin’,” he says, pulling his fingers out abruptly to see how your cunt throbs for him. He spits on your clit and watches it drip down to join the mess between your thighs.
“Please, please, Joel,” you beg.
“Please who now?”
“Please, sir,” you try, and are rewarded with his sharp grin. But not with an orgasm.
He slaps your cunt. “That’s more like it, baby. You remember who you’re talkin’ to, alright?”
You nod. “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.”
He shakes his head, sucking on your clit for a moment before pulling back to get a good look at you. “You do like a little pain, huh?”
“Would like more,” you say.
“Oh yeah? What would you let me do to you?”
“Anything, please, sir.”
He clicks his tongue at you. “Don’t go sayin’ that to someone you barely know. It’s okay to mean it when you trust somebody, but you’re gonna end up in more trouble than you bargain for if you pass that out like candy.”
“I do mean it.”
“Yeah? You’ll let me do this?” His open palm smacks across your face, leaving a sting tingling on your cheek and a lightness to your brain.
Tears spring to your eyes, but you nod frantically.
“What about this?” he grabs a nipple in his calloused fingers and yanks, twisting.
You yelp, but it trails off to a moan, and you nod.
“Goddamn, baby. S’good. But what about this?” He flicks open the switchblade he keeps in his pocket.
You jerk and whine, eyes wide and wet as he brings it to your breast. Your breathing falls shallow as you try to hold still, the point scraping the delicate skin as he circles it. But the look you’re giving him almost has him cumming in his pants like he were twenty years younger.
“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. I mean, you’ve gotta have limits; everyone does. But you just want me to hurt you, huh?” He digs the tip of the blade in a little on the side of your breast, cock throbbing as you gasp, and you both watch a tiny drop of blood bead and trickle down the blade.
He puts it away. “No,” he says when you whimper. “Not today. I ain’t prepared for all that.”
Joel doesn’t like to break his toys. Not permanently. Just enough that he can put them back together how he likes and then do it all over again.
“Don’t need to be prepared; just do it,” you whine.
He slaps you again and wrenches your head up with a hand in your hair. “First of all, I fuckin’ told you no. Second, I know you want to be a stupid little cunt for me, but I’m not about to cut you open without any goddamn first aid shit.”
He leans back and smacks the breast he had cut. He hits you over and over, alternating sides, until your chest burns, and you’re sobbing.
He looks you over briefly and then shoves his hand between your thighs. “You’re wetter than a slip ‘n slide, baby.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper.
“I know,” he says, and wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb. He feels your cunt twitch when he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.
It’s the last straw for him. He’s not opened you enough, but he has a feeling you’ll like it better this way anyway.
You cry out, back arching when he shoves into you. He meant to go slow, he really did, if only to drag out the anticipation. But you’re so warm. So wet. So he just stuffs himself inside.
It’s not that he doesn’t believe you love the pain; it’s just that he can’t resist feeling the evidence for himself. He slaps you across the face while you’re still processing his cock, and the resulting clench and jerk of your body drag a moan from him.
He holds back, regulates his urge to pull each whimper and scream from you, but it’s still so fucking good. It’s been a long time since he’s doled out real cruelty to a slut like you who loves to suffer.
When he finally lets you cum, it’s when he’s about to. He pulls out and spanks your cunt, granting his permission. As your pussy flutters desperately around nothing, he cums on it, watching the way it gets prettier as he paints it.
You black out for a minute. When you come to, he’s wiping you down gently with a warm washcloth, wicking the sweat off your face and chest before cleaning his cum from your curls. You whimper, and he grins, leaning over to steal a kiss.
Even after that first night, he goes slow. He can’t scare ya, not while you still have someplace to run. Plus, it’s so much easier if he starts planting the seeds for your training now.
He knows you’ll beg for it, anyway. He’s been getting the nastiest text messages from you. Part of it is the dopamine; he’s not stupid. But part of you really wants this shit. And the rest? Well. You’ll get there.
It’s the little things. He orders you a black decaf at the drive-thru when you ask for a latte. You start to correct him, like you think he’s made a mistake, but he gives you a look, and you shut your mouth immediately.
When he pulls away from the speaker, you look over at him again. “Sorry,” you mumble.
“Sorry…?”
You squirm a little, heart pounding, unsure if he’s really doing this at the Dunkin’ Donuts. “Sorry, sir.”
He smiles and rubs his hand on your thigh where it peeks out from your skirt. “Thanks, baby.”
And that’s all it takes. You take the cup when he hands it to you and you’re quick to say, “Thank you, sir,” even though the kid at the window is still passing things through to Joel and can clearly hear you.
-fissured
It goes on like that for a couple of months, but it doesn’t all go so smoothly. One night, he picks you up from work and takes you to a restaurant, saying he wants to treat you. Halfway through the meal, he asks for your panties.
“What?” you say, shocked at his vulgar language in the dining room.
“Take ‘em off and hand ‘em to me.”
You go to stand, probably thinking you can go to the bathroom to obey.
He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Right here, right now, baby.”
“Joel,” you hiss, sitting back down, “I can’t do that.”
He fixes you with a calm smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, raising one finger in the air. “I’ll give ya three choices. The first one, the one I’m going to advise you pick, is that you do it right now, and I’ll only punish ya for talkin’ back.”
“The second one,” he holds up another finger for emphasis, “is you can go to the bathroom to take ‘em off, but you’re gonna pay for it when we get home. The third one is where you don’t listen, we leave right now, and you learn to fuckin’ regret it.”
Your breathing is shallow, and your pretty eyes are shining. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he is now.
“I-I can’t,” you whimper. “Please, sir.”
“You got about thirty seconds to make up your mind.” The softness is gone—from his voice, from his face, from the set of his shoulders.
“Fuck,” you whisper, and you stand up. You’re only in the bathroom for a minute, and when you sit back down, you try to hand them to him under the table.
“Nah, that was only a choice if you were good,” he says, smirking and laying his expectant hand on the white linens.
Mortified, you ball them up tight in your fist and press them into his hand. He slides them into his pants pocket.
He doesn’t say anything else about it for the rest of dinner, asking instead about your projects at work and your visit with your parents over the holidays. You feel sick, barely eating a thing, and biting your lip to stave off the tears.
As soon as you’re in the truck, you start to cry. “I’m sorry, I was just scared and—”
“Shut up. You made your choice. You’re not sorry. You’re just afraid of the consequences.”
“N-no, I am sorry, I mean it.”
“You’re gonna have to prove it.” He doesn’t look at you on the drive home, doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t even turn the radio on; just listens to you sniffle.
When he parks, he sets his hand on your thigh. “Don’t worry, baby. I know you can be my good girl. All you gotta do is take your punishment and learn from it, okay?”
You sniffle again and nod, blinking through tear-laden lashes at him.
“So pretty when you cry for me,” he murmurs. He gets out and comes around to open your door, offering a hand to help you step down from the tall truck. You take it, and he holds on, leading you inside his house.
He sits sprawled on the couch, thighs parted wide to make room and waits until you’re comfortably kneeling between his legs. You’re sat in silence, head bowed, arms folded behind your back.
“Tell me what you did wrong today.”
This is a first, but not a last. Even on days when nothing egregious has happened, you will follow this ritual. He’ll ask for your sins, and you’ll confess. There will always be something you’ll owe him for.
“I argued when you gave me orders. I was disobedient.”
“Anything else I need to know about, baby?”
“No, sir.”
“Why’d you argue?”
“I was afraid. I’m sorry.”
“Save your grovelin’ for after, baby. Why were you afraid?”
“I didn’t want people to see. I didn’t want to get kicked out or arrested.”
“You think I’d let anything happen to you? You think I would have given you an order that put either of us at any kinda risk?”
Your face burns. “I—”
“I thought you trusted me.” He sounds hurt, and you’re a little nauseous when you look up to see his eyes wide and sad, lips turned into a wounded scowl.
Your shoulders slump. “I didn’t think. I panicked.”
“Hmm. Okay, I can work with that.”
You look up at him, brow scrunched and lips pouting as you try to parse his words.
He smiles. It’s cold, and his eyes are steel.
You swallow hard, and his grin widens, quirking into a smirk.
“Alright, baby. I got just the thing.”
He leads you into the ensuite. You kneel on the little rug by the tub while he fills it. You’re too afraid to ask what’s happening, so you just sit quietly. He leaves the room and doesn’t come back until the tub is nearly full, and you’re starting to worry that you were supposed to be monitoring it.
He comes back in, and once it’s nearing the lip of the tub, he turns off the faucet. He has you kneel on the top of the three steps leading up to the edge. It’s the most luxurious thing in this house, and you suspect he installed it custom so he could soak his aching muscles.
He bends you over the edge so you’re leaning close to the water and crouches down behind you. It’s a pleasant surprise when he spreads you wide and licks from your clit to your asshole.
He stays there for a few minutes, indulging in your wet cunt and the cries it draws from your lips. After he’s had his fill, he stands up and lubes up his cock before pushing his way into your ass. He’s generous with the lube but rarely preps you, since you both like it better when it hurts.
You’re writhing a little beneath him, wriggling your hips to try to ease the passage. Once he’s fully seated inside you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves it under the water before fucking hard into you.
You thrash, displacing water from the tub, until he yanks you back up.
You gasp for air and scrabble to get a grip on the wet tile, but he pushes you back down and groans at how tight you get while you’re struggling.
He pulls you roughly back up. “Gonna keep going until you stop makin’ a fuss.”
You go to protest, to panic, and he pushes you back down.
The next time he pulls you out, he spanks you until your skin is burning. “Fuckin’ trust me. You think I’m gonna let you drown?”
“No, sir,” you cry, but it’s garbled as he pushes you back down. You’re still fighting him each time.
He pulls you back out and repeats the beating. “Relax, or we’re gonna be here all night.”
He continues the process a few more times and then gives you a reprieve, letting go of your hair so you can rest your cheek against the cold edge of the tub while he pounds into you. He reaches and rubs featherlight circles around your clit until you’re softly moaning.
“You gonna trust me?”
“I’m trying, my body panics,” you pant.
“I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya. You hear me? You know you’re panicking, so focus on me instead.”
“Yes, sir.”
It shouldn’t make sense, but you think he’s long warped your brain anyway. The next time he pushes you underwater, you clench your fists tight and focus on what oxygen you do have, even if he knocks a little out with each thrust.
His hand in your hair is your anchor and buoy. You tense when you feel your body start to jerk, trying so hard to control it.
He pulls you up. “Just like that, baby. Again.”
It gets just a little easier each time. He leaves you under longer, until your lungs are burning, and you’re on the edge of gasping in water, but he pulls you out in time.
“Fuck, you’re doing so well.” He’s a little fascinated. He hadn’t really been sure it could be done or if your survival instincts would go into a frenzy. But here you are, letting him almost fucking drown you.
Not that he would.
Despite being balls deep in your tight little asshole, he isn’t trying to reach his orgasm. Not yet, staving off his pleasure so he can keep a clear head.
He keeps it up just a little longer. You’re getting tired and tolerating less and less time underwater. The last time he pulls you up, he pinches your clit and tells you to cum while he fills you.
He dunks you again while you cum, and you clamp down on him tighter than you have before, convulsing on his cock. When he pulls you back up, you’re gasping and sobbing. He pulls out and wraps you in a towel, easing you to the wet floor while he cleans up.
When he comes back to you, he helps you stand and dry off, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“So?”
Your brow furrows. It’s not what he usually asks after a punishment, but you think you know what he means. “I’m sorry. I trust you, I promise.”
“I know. M’so proud of you for taking that. You’re turning out so nicely, sweet thing.”
In the morning, you’re almost late to work after sucking him off when you should have been getting dressed. He’s about to walk out the door to head to the site when he hears your frustrated voice from the bedroom.
“Joel, where are my underwear? I need to fuckin’ leave.”
“I told you, baby. There was a price to pay when you picked the bathroom. Y’ain’t wearing ‘em anymore.”
“What?”
He doesn’t need to see you to smirk at the shocked expression he knows is on your face. “We’ll talk about it more tonight; I gotta run.”
-avulsed
“Y’know, baby,” Joel says, leaning forward to rub your shoulder. “They just don’t fuckin’ appreciate you.”
You’re bent over, elbows on your knees, crying with your face buried in your hands. You sit up and sniffle, wiping the tears. “It’s fine; it’s not like I need to be coddled at work.”
All the stress of the PR world is getting to you, and you hate it, you fucking hate it, but you dropped 50k on a degree, so now you’re stuck.
“But they make you work all this overtime, cut your team in half, and then berate you when you can’t meet the client’s deadline? You do not deserve that, baby.”
You let him coax you into his lap, facing him so you can bury your face in his soft, worn tee. He rubs your back and holds your head to his chest.
“You’re too good to me,” you mumble.
“Nah, darlin’, I’ve told ya a thousand times. You deserve to be taken care of.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I, well. I was thinkin’...”
You wait, but when he doesn’t pick back up, you sit up and look at him.
“I dunno. It’s nothin’,” he says.
“Please tell me?”
“Alright, fine. Now, I don’t want ya to feel any pressure. It’s just a thought. But maybe you should just quit and stay with me a while, ‘till you can find something better?”
You can’t tell if he’s joking. He must see something on your face, because he tips your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes.
“I know it’s sudden, but I mean it. Let me take care of ya while you figure shit out. We don’t gotta treat it like living together if y’ain’t ready. But I’d be open to that conversation, too.”
It doesn’t take much more than that. The first couple weeks, he lets you give it a try—searching for new degree programs, applying for jobs you know you’re overqualified for just to try something different.
After nothing pans out, he suggests you both take a week off. Him from work and you from the burden of trying to escape unemployment. Just relax, like a little staycation.
It’s bliss. You go on dates, eat pizza and marathon the “Jurassic Park” movies, and fuck like crazy.
On the third night, he sits you down. On his cock, of course. While you’re bouncing and brainless, he cups your cheek. “Baby, you’ve been too damn stressed still. What if we… well, what if we tried out a day or two like we’ve been talking about?”
Sometimes, you whisper to him in the darkness, usually while he’s balls deep, how you wish you could be his all the time. His good girl. His pet. And he whispers back, lures you right in with promises of taking care of everything, of you not having a worry or care in the world. Just him.
Now, he fondles your tits while he murmurs to you. “We can just wake up together, and I can take care of ya. Everything you need, baby. All you’d have to do is be good for me, yeah?”
You moan and grind down harder on his cock. “Please, sir. I want it more than anything. Just to be yours.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
Joel had no patience for brats, so he usually broke his toys in sooner into the training process. He liked ‘em nice and obedient—scared, if that’s what it took, but devoted. But you had been from the start—you wanted to be good in all the ways you could never seem to be to other people. Your family, your job, the world seemed to just demand more and more.
Joel was the first person to make you feel like you had actually, really, truly pleased him. There wasn’t a higher mark you should have made. There wasn’t any expectation for you to give more and more.
His orders were complete, always. You learned that very quickly. Attempts to go above and beyond were rebuked.
“If I wanted that, I woulda said so,” he told you. And like everything else, you committed his words to memory.
It helped that he gave praise freely. You didn’t have to wonder if he was satisfied, if you should have licked him differently, if you should have made prettier faces while you came. He reassured you until you believed him, and then kept going anyway.
It made it easier for him to slowly peel you away from the ungrateful world.
“You don’t have to take that,” he’d say after watching your face fall further and further while on the phone with your mom. “Family ain’t supposed to make you feel like shit.”
They made it too easy, really, and your relationship with them would have likely just fizzled out. But in the end, he had to step in and snap it off.
You asked him to come with you to dinner at their house. He was hesitant. He wasn’t really the boyfriend type. He wasn’t really even your boyfriend. That was too weird a word for either of you, not when he owned you.
But he knows you didn’t want to go alone, and he has a feeling he’ll be cleaning up the mess anyway.
You want to give them a chance. Things have been so tense, and they said they missed you. But they didn’t even make it through the entrée without ridiculing you.
When your father asks how work is going, you quietly confess to quitting, hastily reassuring them that you are looking for a new position. Though, and you keep this part to yourself, you maybe haven’t been trying that hard.
“What do you mean you quit? How are you paying your bills? You better not have come here to ask for money,” your father says, setting down his fork to glare at you.
“Well, I’ve been living with Joel,” you mumble to the tablecloth.
“I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger,” your mother chides.
Joel tries to bite his tongue and let them dig their own graves. But your father calls you a “fucking whore,” and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand the way you’re cowering in your chair, fighting back tears.
“You watch your mouth,” Joel snaps at your father.
You look up, mouth agape, eyes darting from Joel to your parents.
“Mind your business,” your dad tells him.
Joel stands up and throws his napkin on the table. “She is my fuckin’ business. I wouldn’t stand by and let anyone talk to her like that. You’re not an exception just because you managed to get it up long enough to cum in your wife.”
“Joel,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve. You’re burning, melting on the spot, from the vulgar way he’s talking to them. For him, someone who’s always strict about manners and proper hospitality, to talk back like this? God, you think, he must really love you.
He puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds firmly as you lean into it. He rounds back on your parents. “You treat her like fuckin’ dirt beneath your feet, and I’m tired of it. You don’t deserve the fuckin’ dirt beneath her feet.”
He shoves his chair back and grabs your hand. “C’mon, baby; we’re leaving.”
You take it and stand up, letting him pull you along. Your father follows you into the foyer, and you try not to look at him while you shove your shoes on.
Joel holds your coat out while you slip into it, and you tune out whatever your dad is yelling now. You don’t want to hear it; you know it’s nasty, and your whole world has narrowed to Joel anyway.
He holds out the key. “Go wait in the truck, baby.”
And you do.
He comes out about five minutes later, red-faced and huffing with fury. He doesn’t say a word when he gets in; just throws the truck into reverse and pulls away. You both ignore the blood on his knuckles.
Once you’re on the road, he looks over at you and sighs. “C’mere, sweetheart.”
You unbuckle and slide over to the middle seat, tucking your hand between his warm body to curl around his arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.
“Whaddya sorry for? None of that was your fault.” He kisses the top of your head and cups your cheek at the stoplight. “It was gonna happen eventually, anyway.”
“Thank you.”
The rest of the ride home is silent while you breathe in his comforting musk and try to relax. But the tension is unrelenting, the horrible rotting feeling eating away at your spine.
He knows. Knows what you need, knows what he can do to seal this moment forever. He waits until he’s unzipping the pretty little cocktail dress you’d stressed over.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, breaking away from where he was sucking his claim down your neck to swap out your delicate necklace with his collar.
He unhooks the bra and kisses the marks he left behind with the cane, your penance for being allowed to wear it. It leaves you bare to him, and his hands turn greedy. He presses biting kisses against your lips while digging fingers into your bruises, swallowing your whimpers.
He grabs you by the neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, holding you to him while your vision blurs. When he lets go, you stumble, but his arm around your back holds you upright. He slaps your face with quick, sharp blows in rapid succession to keep you unsteady.
“Knees, hands behind your head,” he says, and lets go.
You fall but are quick to right yourself and take the position. He wastes no time, giving you another harsh smack before grabbing your hair and shoving his cock into your throat.
You choke and gag but keep your hands in place even as your head spins. You feel limp and grateful that he doesn’t seem to require any effort from you as he uses you without mercy.
“Look at you. You’ve got my whole cock down your throat. You’re so fuckin’ good for me.”
Your eyes are already glazed over, and you moan your appreciation around him.
He pulls out and hauls you to your feet. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Get your ass downstairs.”
He fucks you, beats you, uses you wherever he wants. But the basement is where he keeps the heavy equipment and where you know you’re about to have your mind and body pushed to the absolute limit.
You’re ready, he thinks, when he gets down and finds you waiting perfectly in place for him, eyes wide like he’s descended from on high. He jerks a thumb to the wooden post, and you meet him there.
“Forget about what they want you to be,” he murmurs as he closes the steel cuffs around your ankles. “You know what you want, baby. Right?”
“Mhm,” you nod, already slipping away into that safe place only Joel can get you to.
“What do you want to be?” he asks, binding your arms up over your head to the eye bolt at the top of the post.
“Yours.” It’s half-whisper, half-whine.
“Yeah? You just wanna be mine? You don’t want to get a new job?”
“No,” you finally confess. “But—”
“But what, baby? If you say somethin’ about money or bills, I’m gonna be mighty unhappy.”
You bite your lip. “I’m scared one day, you’ll wake up and not want me anymore.”
“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, sweetheart. You think I put all this work into helpin’ you, into teaching you how to be mine, just to toss ya out? You’re hurtin’ my feelings.”
“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.
He slides a silicone cock into the bracket lined right up with your mouth. It’s a fairly standard size, since he knows you’re going to thrash around and doesn’t want you gagging too much and throwing up.
Your torso gets tied to the post by your tits, the wood nestled between them and rope woven around. Securing you there forces your head onto the toy, but he doesn’t make you take it all the way. You keep your mouth open and don’t move closer or further, waiting for his command.
“Suck on it whenever you’d like. You’re going to need it.”
Your eyes roll back a little at his promise. If he thinks you’re going to need something in your mouth to self-soothe, you’re in for an absolutely amazing time.
“Focus on me. That’s all you’ll need to do from now on, baby. No more worries in that pretty little head, okay?”
The first strike is a warm-up. When you feel the lash of his favorite whip lick your ass, you moan. It’s a moderately short signal whip that he wields like a fucking pro. His warmups are quick but thorough, and you’re squirming when he moves on to your thighs and shoulders.
“Already?” he says, laughing when you whine around the silicone cock.
You’re absentmindedly sucking on it when he starts a harsher assault. A particularly sharp strike stings at the valley where your ass meets your thighs, and you yelp, jerking a little and gagging yourself on the dildo.
His smirk burns into your back as the cry melts into a moan, and you writhe a little, trying to get friction where you need it most. What you get, though, is the tip of the whip against your cunt.
By the time he moves around to your tits, they’re covered in spit, heaving with the effort of holding back your orgasm. He comes up to you first, and pinches at your nipples.
“Aw, does my dumb little cunt want to cum?” He croons, tugging and twisting until you moan. He laughs when all you can get out is a muffled “mhm.”
“Tell ya what. You can cum all you want while I hurt you tonight, okay?”
He punctuates it with a particularly cruel pinch, and that, combined with his permission, is all you need to let the pleasure shudder through you.
“Yeah? You gonna get off to being my little toy? Gonna let me do whatever I want?”
You moan around the fake cock, easing it further into your throat.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He doesn’t give a warm-up on your tits, figuring you’re already so far gone it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.
He’s right. The first lash is harsh, a welt blooming across the top of your breast in its wake, but you groan, trying to press your cunt up against the post for any relief.
You don’t need it, though. He brings you to your peak again with the skilled flick of his wrist, landing blows across the fat of your breasts. He waits until you’re mid-orgasm to bring the whip hard across your nipples.
The resulting wail almost makes him cum in his pants. He does it only twice more, relishing in your agony, but restraining himself from just letting loose. Not with the whip, as much as he’d like to. Maybe later with a flogger.
Once he’s taken it as far as he’s willing to risk, he moves back around to give the rest of you the same treatment. The hardest hits push you over the edge, and by the time his arm is getting tired, you’re sobbing and writhing in your restraints, overstimulated in every way.
He unlatches your ankles first, helping you find steady footing before untying your wrists and torso. You drop to your knees and open your mouth, throat aching for his cock after the tease of the toy.
He doesn’t have the willpower to torment you by denying it tonight. Instead, he nearly pops the button off his jeans in his urgency to pull his cock out and shove it as far down your throat as he can.
Your arms find their place behind your back, and you just take it. He fucks into you without restraint. It’s filthy, from the mess you’re making to the wet choking sounds he pushes out of you with each thrust.
You’re shaking, and he pulls out abruptly.
“I said while I’m hurting you. You don’t get to just cum from getting facefucked.”
“Then hurt me, please,” you sob. It’s right there; you’re so close.
He slaps you across the face and laughs as you cum, shoving back into your throat while you’re still riding out the aftershocks.
He pulls back out, and you whine until he yanks you up by the bicep and pushes you over to the padded bench, bending you over it and shoving into your sopping cunt.
“Still disappointed?” he teases.
“N-no,” you pant. “Please hurt me.”
“Beg me properly, greedy little cunt.”
You clench around him just at the words, but obey. “Please, sir, please hurt me so I can cum. Please.”
“I’ve been hurtin’ you all night, baby,” he says, voice thick with false pity. “Don’t you want me to be gentle with you now?” He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cum as he mocks you.
“No,” you sob. “No, love me, hurt me, please.”
It’s got an edge of desperation and heartbreak to it that he just loves.
He smacks your already bruising ass until you sob harder, shaking uncontrollably as you cum. He wraps his hands around your throat and fucks you through it until he cums, hips stuttering, and filling your cunt with his spend.
He lets himself collapse a little on top of you, pinning you with his weight against the bench with his softening cock still buried in you. “Feel loved now?”
You’re still crying, and when he folds his arms around your chest, elbows resting on the table, you cling to him. “Love you,” you murmur over and over, pressing kisses up and down his forearms.
He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at you. “I know, baby. You know I love ya.” He’s half-hard—not something that happens a lot anymore at his age, so he’s not gonna waste it. He pulls out just to manhandle you up onto the bench on your back, climbing up between your legs and shoving back in.
It’s a little sloppy until he’s fully hard again; your combined cream making things a little too slippery. Once he’s erect, though, he sets a punishing pace, folding you in half with your legs up by your ears. He works your clit with his hand, relishing in the way you’re fucking exhausted and overstimulated, but your poor clit’s been neglected. It means he can twist and pull on it, tugging until you give him more and more, until you’re sobbing for mercy that you know you’ll never get.
He doesn’t ease up until he pulls out to cum over your tits and face.
“Mine,” he snarls, shoving his fingers into your swollen cunt and feeding you what’s left of his first orgasm and your… well, he’s not really sure how many. A fuckin’ lot. “You’re all mine. Little fuckin’ toy to do whatever I want, right?”
You’re still gasping for breath, having been half-suffocated in that position, but when you look at him, it’s like he’s a fucking god. “Yes, sir.”
-broken
The day had started out fine.
He’d laid out a dress for you to wear. Sometimes, he made you go around bare for a while, just to fuck with your head a little, but he prefers to unwrap you like a present.
Plus, the sight of you crawling around in nothing but a slutty, barely-there dress is picture-fuckin’-perfect. He’d know; he’s got a bunch of ‘em on his phone.
And crawl, you do. You haven’t been allowed to walk further than a couple of feet in a long time. There’s penance to be paid if you can’t avoid it.
Joel collects your penance whenever possible, gathering what’s owed for your sins and dealing out forgiveness when it's settled. It’s how he shows his love.
And he does love you. How could he not? Such a perfect little toy. He’s spent so much time training you right to be his prized possession.
He knew it’d happen eventually, so when you commit one of the worst offenses, he has to make it count. You were testing your limits, of course; he had expected it. He had expected it months ago. It was worse now, after you’d been so good and earned so much trust. But now that you’d been nothing but his for two months, you had finally fucked up.
Your punishments were never painful. Okay, they weren’t pain-focused. Sometimes, he had to put you over his knee to let his frustration out before he could give you a proper punishment. But the pain wasn’t the point—you both liked it too damn much. No matter how much farther he took it than a regular session, and no matter how sick you were with guilt, you were always a soaking wet mess after a beating.
This time would have to be different, though.
It was time to finally break you.
He knew as soon as he got home. Not the particulars, but that you’d made a huge mistake.
On the surface, nothing was amiss. You were knelt by the door in your pretty little dress, a short number in navy blue. You had your head down and arms folded behind your back in perfect posture.
But something was off. It didn’t feel like you were happy he was home. And he was pretty sure there would only be one reason for that.
He hung up his keys but didn’t bother to take off his shoes, coming to stand in front of you. “What’d you do?”
You flinch and have to re-tense to hold the position as a sob escapes you. Your hands are balled into fists to fight the urge to cover your face. “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t ask if you were sorry. I asked what you did.”
If it were still the early days, when this shit usually happened, he might have been just a little softer. At least until he coaxed the confession from you, anyway. But you were in too deep, now, too entangled in this life that he had little patience for your reticence.
“I—”
“I recommend you spit it out. You’ll tell me in the end, anyway.”
You start to cry. “I can’t say it.”
“You better figure it out pretty fuckin’ fast, little girl.”
“I had an orgasm,” you blurt, whimpers escalating to sobs.
He pauses. It’s worse than he thought. The rush of disappointment and anger sends his heart racing, and his fingers flex in longing for a cane.
“Did you enjoy it?” he says.
It catches you off guard. “No, I promise.”
“That’s too bad, ‘cause it’s the last one you’re gonna have for a while.”
You aren’t surprised; you’re actually relieved. Of course, of course he’ll fix you.
He finally takes his shoes off and sets his phone on the counter, beckoning you to follow him to the living room. Taking his seat on the couch, he waits until you’re settled at his feet.
“Why’d you do that, baby?”
“I-I didn’t mean to. I was edging for the last time today, and I don’t know what happened. It was just there, and I knew it, I knew it was coming, and I—” You choke on the guilt, the grief.
“You what?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t convince myself to stop. I kept thinking ‘no, you stupid cunt,’ but I couldn’t pull my hand away.”
He regards you for a moment. He’s burning inside, but trying to calculate the most effective approach.
“Thank you for telling me right away,” he says, but even though he means it, the words are cold and clipped. “Which hand?”
You look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “What?”
“Which hand did you use? Give it to me.”
You lift up your right hand, and he cradles it in his.
“Listen close.” He waits until he’s sure you’re focused on him, on his words.
This is where things have fallen apart in the past. No amount of training and manipulation can get someone across this hurdle; they have to mean it. The last thing he wants is someone running to the police because they don’t fucking understand how serious he is.
“This is going to be your last chance to back out. I will stop right now and let you pack your shit and leave. But if you stay, you’re agreeing to anything I do to you past this point.”
You bite your lip, stomach churning. “You’re scaring me,” you whisper.
“Good. You should be scared. What you’ve done is one of the worst things you could have. That’s got some serious consequences, baby.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“I gotta hurt you. Bad. Y’ain’t going to like this; I can promise you that. I can’t punish your cunt because you’re such a stupid pain slut; anything short of permanent damage is gonna make you wet. And I’m not lookin’ to do permanent damage.”
Your lip trembles, heart pounding. You’ve never been so afraid, but you’re also enthralled. Lured in by the timbre of his voice and the salvation it’s promising.
He squeezes your hand where he’s still holding onto you. “I’m going to break one of your fingers.”
Your heart falters, blood rushing. “Oh god,” you whisper, shaking your head. Instinctively, you tug back on your hand, but he grasps it tight, tight enough that you feel the bones grind under his large fingers.
“It’s up to you. That’s half the price for forgiveness. The rest is gonna be spending the night alone.”
Somehow, that sounds worse. You can’t breathe.
“Gotta choose, baby. You wanna go? I’ll pay for a cab. You can walk away, but you can’t ever come back.”
You think you might be drowning. Leave? How could you leave? There’s no debate in your head; you have nothing without Joel. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And the idea of losing him feels catastrophic.
You’re crying again, and you’re vaguely aware of his soothing voice trying to coach you through breathing. When you focus on him, just like he’s taught you, you start to calm down.
It’s Joel, you think. He’ll take care of you. And he said he didn’t want permanent damage. You just have to suffer for your betrayal and he’ll forgive you.
“I think I might throw up,” you warn him.
He sighs, the fear of losing you flooding away, taking some of his anger with it. “We’ll do it in the bathroom.”
He stands up, and you follow, albeit slowly, as the wave of nausea rises. You do throw up as soon as you get in the bathroom, thankfully making it to the toilet. He holds your hair and rubs his hand across your shoulder blades.
“It’s okay, baby, get it out of your system. You’re being so brave for me,” he croons. He helps you up to sit on the edge of the tub and gets you a little cup of mouthwash.
“I’ll help you brush your teeth after,” he promises. “I’d do it now, but, well. You’re probably going to puke again.”
When you’re done swishing the mouthwash, when it’s all turned to foam and you’ve spit it back in the cup, he swaps you for water. You rinse and spit that, too.
He’s laid a few things out on the counter. You feel dizzy all over again. Something tells you the comfort you feel is wrong, but he’s prepared an ice pack and medical tape, and has four little ibuprofen out next to another cup of water.
The other, louder part of you is whispering, see? He’ll take care of you. The act of wondering what’s wrong with you feels like a farce. You’re thinking it because you think you should, just going through the motions.
He takes off his belt and brings it to your mouth. You clench it between your teeth, letting a shaky breath through. His hand cups your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.
“I knew you were somethin’ special,” he whispers. You’re not sure he meant to.
Your whole body is shaking uncontrollably. He watches you for a moment, worried you’re going to faint, and then sits on the floor with his back against the tub, pulling you into his lap. He lays you back against his chest, caging you in with his arms and thighs. The ice pack sits to his right, already popped and frozen. Waiting.
Gently, he lifts your hand and brings it in front of your chest, taking it in his left. It’s a macabre mockery, the way he cradles it in his palm, fingers wrapped around the sides. In his right hand, he notches his thumb on the knuckle of your middle finger, bringing the other fingers in below it.
He doesn’t drag it out, doesn’t take pleasure in your terror. When he moves, it’s faster than a gunshot. Your scream is raw, breaking free from the spaces between your teeth and the belt. The taste of leather will remind you of this moment for the rest of your life.
He has the ice pack on it before you mentally register that it’s over. You’re sobbing. Horribly, he’s right, and you are sick again. He holds your hair in one fist, holding the ice pack to your mangled hand in the other.
When you’re done, he pulls you back against him, wrapping his limbs around you in a perverse embrace as you shake harder. With his free hand, he brings a damp, cool cloth to your face, cleaning you of the viscera of your sickness.
He’s shushing you, head bent close to your ear. “It’s alright, baby, it’s over. You did so good. I’m so proud. I love you so much.”
It’s good that he doesn’t expect an answer because he doesn’t get one. You’re too lost in the pain and shock.
When it’s time to take a break from the ice, he grabs the medical tape and wraps it around your index and middle fingers. You cry out again as he jostles the break. Once he’s splinted it, he lowers your hand gently to your lap so he can grab the medicine.
“I can’t; I’ll throw up again,” you say, voice cracking.
“Don’t have a choice, baby. Gotta keep the swelling down.”
He feeds you each pill, one by one, chasing them with sips of water.
You look so sad and precious that he almost feels bad. Unfortunately, he’s also rock fucking hard, so he shifts you a little to pull his dick out.
You don’t say anything when he lifts you to lower you on it. He’s careful, trying not to shake you around too much. He was right; you didn’t enjoy this pain. You’ve never been this dry for him before, and you whimper pathetically at the pinch and sting of his girth.
You may be worn out and in agony, but your cunt doesn’t get the message. He grins when he feels you getting wet and clenching around him. He doesn’t push it though, doesn’t torment you, just fucks up into you gently until he fills you.
You’re limp against him now, and he presses a kiss into your hair. “You may have to walk for a bit,” he muses. “But I’ll cap your penance at ten.”
You wince. Ten strokes with the cane on the soles of your feet every day until your finger heals? You usually only owe enough for two or three. It is a mercy, though, so you nod and thank him.
Joel can hardly contain the way his chest is flooding with warmth. You’re so close; he can feel it. So close to being completely his to put together just the way he likes.
He can’t wait to take you to The Pit.
-kintsugi
You’re cold. So cold. You’re curled in on yourself, tucked into a corner in the hopes that you’d be able to keep warmer. Your whole right hand throbs.
Moonlight only cuts across the corner, but it’s a comfort still. The soil is loose and you keep shuddering, feeling the tickle of a dozen phantom insects.
Worst of all, your chest aches, like he may as well have hewn you open. Dry sobs work their way free every now and then, leaving your mouth tacky and your throat full of cotton.
The only rest you get is when you blessedly pass out. Every time you close your eyes voluntarily, you see the heartbroken look on his face when you begged him not to leave you there.
“I wish I didn’t have to. I wish you hadn’t broken my trust and I could keep you close, baby. But you’re never going to learn how to be good if I don’t show ya.”
Bad, I’m bad, he doesn’t want me anymore, you think to no end.
When the sun starts to rise, you’re limp, still in your corner. You barely turn your head when a shadow falls over The Pit, but your heart starts to pound when the lock clicks, and Joel raises the gate.
“Oh, baby,” he says, soft and sorrowful. “C’mere.” He reaches out a hand, and you scramble to him, letting him take your left arm in his grasp and pull you out. You move immediately to your knees, body bent forward as your knotted muscles protest. He scoots his boot out of the danger zone near your broken finger.
You keep whispering, a broken record of “Sorry, please, I’m so sorry.”
He picks you up and holds you to his chest, shushing until you fall quiet. It doesn’t take longer than a few seconds as your brain desperately clings to any scrap, any way you can be good for him.
He brushes the loose dirt from you before going inside and upstairs to the ensuite. He sets you on the little rug next to the full garden tub, and he tests the water with his fingers before peeling his clothes off.
You flex your left hand, balling it in and out of a fist. You’ve never been particularly ambidextrous and wonder how you’re going to wash him without falling in or hurting your hand.
Before he gets in, he feeds you four more little red pills. Once he’s settled, he reaches out and guides you carefully by the waist, pulling you into his lap in the warm water.
That’s all it takes for you to start crying again. He doesn’t try to quiet you; just holds you there against his chest and lets you sob.
By the time you’ve calmed, the water has cooled, but instead of getting out, he just drains a little and runs more hot water.
Joel tips your chin up gently with the knuckle of his index finger. “You ready to be my good girl again?”
You nod, lip trembling.
Joel does nothing you hadn’t asked for. The trouble for you was that you asked for too much. Gave him too much. And it was far too late to get any of it back.
He gave what he could, though. Couldn’t replace what he’d taken, so he pours himself in the cracks, puts you back together with a firm hand and loving care. Sure, his love doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but he knows you see it for what it is.
“I know, baby. You took that all so well. Don’t worry,” he pauses to kiss you, “I forgive you. My perfect little toy.”
i didn't like how it turned out, so I'll probably delete it.
you had decided to spend the holidays at your parents' house. you were an only child, and your parents got along really well with joel, so everything pointed to a pleasent evening.
you spent that afternoon making an apple pie that joel loved so much. you wanted to surprise him and your parents, to show them that you were a good wife.
joel's large hands gripped your waist, pressing lightly as he brought his mouth close to your ear.
"honey, how about you take a break? you were supposed to take it easy this last day of the year."
he murmured with some concern, seeing you cooking so early. joel hated seeing you so busy when he didn't have much to do; it made him feel older and more useless.
"i know, I know. but I really want to bring something to share. besides, this is your favorite pie."
joel purred and left wet kisses on your neck as he pressed his erection against your rear, pleased by your response. deep down, he loved seeing everything you did to please him.
that evening, joel was waiting for you in the living room, already dressed and ready, flipping through the gossip magazines you loved to read. like a good husband, he let you take all the time you needed to get ready.
"take all your time, babydoll. i'll be downstairs waiting for you."
seeing you all ready, he couldn't help but whistle at how gorgeous you looked. a smug smile spread across his face at the thought of parading around town with such a cute little thing like you.
during dinner, joel and your father talked nonstop about work and reminiscing about their childhoods; after all, they were almost the same age. your mother complimented your cake and even congratulated you on how much you'd improved in the kitchen since moving in with joel.
there was also a little misunderstanding when you asked joel to pass you the salt the same way you did at home.
"pa, could you pass me the salt, please?"
"sure, sweetie."
your father and Joel answered at the same time.
when midnight struck, you toasted with your glasses of champagne, which joel himself had chosen, and shared your wishes for the coming year.
"you know, joel, i'm so grateful for everything you do, for my daughter, and for us..."
your father spoke, giving joel a few friendly taps on the shoulder.
"but we really want a grandchild, please!"
your mother interrupted, unable to contain her excitement at the thought of expanding their family. joel and you laughed at her words, and he even put his arm around your waist.
"we'll keep that in mind, mom. now I just want to go see the fireworks."
you set your glass down on the table and went out to the garden with your mother, while your father and joel stayed inside.
as you gazed at the twinkling lights against the dark sky, you thought about your mother's words. you had been married for a year, and everything was going wonderfully for both of you. although he never brought it up, the idea of having a child with you stirred something deep inside joel. but he didn't want to rush things; while he was older to raise children, you were still young, and he wanted to respect your decision as much as possible.
determined to talk to your husband about it, you went inside only to find your old man asleep on the couch, just like your father.
just old!joel who needs a back massage with the help of his young sweet wife! +18! Age gap!
even if the job had been incredibly exhausting, for joel it was completely worth it because he knew that at the end of the day you would be waiting for him. you, his wife, young enough to be mistaken for his daughter or even his granddaughter.
damn, sometimes joel felt like a perverted old man, and he was. nobody forced him to set his eyes on you, much less to propose; it was his decision. and you accepted without hesitation, because you love him.
he could feel it, and see it. every time he came home, his hands and clothes dirty. and an intense pain in his shoulders from stress, and age, of course. that's when you appeared, happy to have him back home.
no matter how much time passed, your excitement was always the same, like the first time he came home from work after you became his wife and he brought you to live with him.
'dinner's ready.'
you murmured sweetly against his lips after greeting him with a hug and a damp towel to clean his hands. so thoughtful.
'i'm glad to hear that, babydoll, but dinner can wait.'
work and age had taken their toll on joel's back. and it was to be expected; he wasn't 20 anymore, he was in his 60s, and his body knew it.
'how about you help your old man relax, hm?'
you knew what he meant by his words. like a good wife, you did everything you could to take care of him and make his life more comfortable. that didn't involve much; joel was a simple guy.
so, on the nights when his back seemed to hurt more than usual, you became his masseuse.joel would take off his work shirt and, with some difficulty, lie face down on the sofa, waiting for your hands to work their magic. you'd put some moisturizer on your hands and sit on top of him, admiring his broad back.
your delicate hands massaged every tense muscle in joel's back, making him groan softly. you'd heard it a few times before, but your panties couldn't help getting wet when you heard him so helplessly.
'damn, babydoll, keep going.'
you patiently untied the knots in his shoulders and sore muscles, taking your time to admire the freckles scattered across his back and the occasional wrinkle etched on his skin.
'what a good wife, so good.'
joel moaned, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open. he knew he wasn't the only one enjoying this; he could feel your wet panties against his lower back. he even pretended not to notice how you were subtly moving your hips, seeking some kind of contact with your pussy.
when his back no longer ached, joel rolled over onto his back, still with you on top of him. he took your hand in his and guided it inside his pants.
'he needs a good massage from you too, babydoll.'
he spoke almost in a whisper, completely aroused even though his cock was only semi-hard. but you didn't care; in the end, a good wife always fulfilled her husband's desires. even if that meant masturbating him until his cock got hard.
w:+18, smut, p in v, könig steals your panties and pretends to be someone he's not, accidental pregnancy!
"gay"bestfriend!könig pretends to be gay just to be near you because he knows you'd never give him a chance.
"gay"bestfriend!könig waits for you after your college classes so he can 'spill the tea', although in reality he just wants to make sure no other guy approaches you.
when you start to trust him, you tell him everything about your likes and past relationships. what you like in a guy and what you don't. könig listens attentively, taking note of every detail so he can transform himself into your ideal type.
he's so committed that he even created a grindr account to talk to other men. he showed you the conversations, pretending to be interested in guys when in reality he couldn't stop staring at your juicy lips, longing to have them wrapped around his fat cock.
soon, you invited him over to your house for a 'girls' night.' the two of you spend hours in your room listening to music and talking about the latest celebrity dramas. könig tried to concentrate on what you were saying, but it was difficult when you were next to him, in your bed, wearing your tiny pajamas.
"god, she's so unbearable! i need to go to the bathroom or i'm going to throw up."
once in your bathroom, könig unleashed his hard, throbbing cock. he needed to get his erection down before you realized the effect you were having on him. he soon found a pair of used panties in the laundry basket and brought them to his nose. he masturbated to your scent, so desperately that he almost fainted when he came all over your hand towel.
obviously, he took your underwear as a souvenir.
on more than one occasion, you changed clothes in front of him, trying on different clothes and modeling in search of the perfect outfit. all of this without knowing that könig had his phone camera pointed at your breasts and soft ass.
"gay"bestfriend!könig was lying in your bed with you curled up on his hard, bare chest. it was one of those sleepover nights where neither of you could sleep.
"have you ever been with a woman?"
you murmur as you feel könig's large hands stroke your hair. he lies surprisingly well and says he's never tried it before.
"könig... you know I haven't been out with anyone in a while and... you're my best friend. my GAY best friend."
you clarify as you straighten up to look him in the eyes.
"what do you think about trying being with a girl? just out of curiosity, you can trust me, and if you want to stop, i'll understand."
könig felt his cock harden immediately. he never thought his plan would go this far, much less that you would be the one proposing to fuck him. hiding his inner excitement, könig agreed.
you pulled down his sleep pants and to your surprise, not only was his cock big, but it was already completely hard before you could even touch him.
you removed your panties and tank top and carefully climbed on top of him. könig's cock throbbed as he felt your wet pussy inches from his and your nipples harden under his dark gaze.
"i've heard pussies are tighter and wetter..."
könig murmured, trying to act as if he didn't know what your beautiful pussy smelled like. you didn't respond, somewhat worried that his cock wouldn't enter you. könig noticed your concern and moved his hands to your hips, helping you take his cock.
"slowly, I don't want to hurt you..."
könig had to control himself from thrusting into you at that precise moment and just closed his eyes, enjoying the way your warm, wet pussy enveloped him.
gradually, the discomfort turned to pleasure, and you began to bounce on his cock. your moans of pleasure mingled with the sticky sound of bodies colliding. könig wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body toward him and sucking on your breasts desperately. you let him, enjoying the way your clit rubbed against his pubic hair, making you see stars.
"the tightest, sweetest pussy i've ever had... fuck, i'm going to cum inside you."
könig lifted his hips and thrust into you hard, seeking his own climax. his balls bounced against your ass and you could feel him throbbing inside you.
"i'm going to cum inside you, i don't give a fuck."
before you could complain and ask him not to, könig grabbed your face with one of his hands and kissed you passionately. you tried to keep up with him, but his tongue in your mouth and his cum inside you were too much.
the weeks passed, and little by little, you began to doubt that könig was really gay. he was much more possessive of you now, hugging you around the waist when you left class and becoming annoyed when you talked to him about other boys. more than once he came to your house unannounced and tried to get you to fuck him again under the excuse that "the first time he was too rough with you and he wanted to focus on your pleasure."
your suspicions were confirmed when one afternoon you found your missing panties inside his backpack, now hard with what appeared to be his dried cum.
you were going to confront him, but the absence of your period prompted you to take a pregnancy test, which, to no one's surprise, came out positive. when you told könig, he smiled from ear to ear, hugging you in his strong arms and trying to calm your crying.
"shh, shh. don't worry, after all, i'm not as gay as I thought."
buildingdoorman!joel took the job because he wanted a change of scenary, and the pay was ridiculously good. he received mail, helped the elderly residents with their shopping bags, and made sure no one who wasn't from the place tried to break in. easy peasy.
buildingdoorman!joel spent his monotonous days reading the newspaper and hiding playboy magazine spreads between them. the last woman he was with was his ex-wife, and that was six years ago. since then, he fantasized about the sculpted models in adult magazines.
until one day, he saw you get off the elevator and his heart stopped. he hadn't seen you during work because you'd been in vacation. he could see the sun-kissed swimsuit mark on your bare shoulder.
"morning! you're the new doorman, right? could you take care of a package that arrives in an hour? i'm late for work."
he opened the door to the building for you and watched you walk out, your hips swaying deliciously, your skirt lifting slightly with each step. as soon as he reached his desk, he threw the playboy magazines in the trash.
buildingdoorman!joel who now got up 30 minutes earlier than usual to iron his uniform and comb his hair. he wanted to look presentable when you got off the elevator and smiled sweetly at him as usual. he wanted you to see him not as the old receptionist, but as a potential candidate for you.
when you got off the elevator, joel was always there, hands behind his back, watching the cars go by or even reading the newspaper, looking for some news he could engage you in conversation with when he got back.
"good morning, pretty—no! i mean, it's a pretty day."
you just laughed at his mistake, and joel felt like he cum in his underwear. your laughter and the way your cheeks flushed again made him realize that you liked his words.
that same day, upon returning from work, you found joel watering the flowerpots in the lobby while whistling a tune.
"hey, i brought you something on my way here."
you handed him a bag of freshly baked cookies from your favorite place.
"oh, sweetie. you didn't have to. thanks."
there was that blush on your cheeks again. and the erection in joel's pants at your gestures.
every day that passed, joel was sure you felt the same way he did. it was obvious, wasn't it? like more than one occasion you both said good morning to each other at the same time, the times you gave him coffee when you got home from work or when joel offered to call you a taxi when you were late to work.
the chemistry and tension were palpable. that's why he decided to take it a step further and surprise you that friday night with a bouquet of flowers.
joel paced nervously through the lobby, looking at his watch and worrying when he noticed you hadn't arrived yet. all the other residents had arrived hours ago, but not you. what if something had happened to you? he saw you leave wrapped in a long jacket but didn't notice to ask where you were going.
"sweetheart, where are you?"
he muttered to himself, looking out at the street like a puppy waiting for its owner. just as he was about to put on his coat and go out to find you, the sound of the front door stopped him.
you had returned, but not alone. a handsome young man was holding you by the waist, while in his other hand he held your purse and your jacket. joel's heart sank as he noticed you laughing at a joke your companion had made that he couldn't understand.
inevitably, your attention turned to joel and the bouquet of flowers now dangling from his hand.
"how pretty!"
you pointed at the bouquet, showing it to the young man next to you. joel was still confused.
"oh, yes... they're for you."
joel murmured, gently lifting the bouquet towards you.
"thank you, oldman."
your companion snatched the flowers from his hand and gently extended it to you.
joel clenched his fists, trying to control the hatred that coursed through him. you walked with the young man toward the elevator, and just before the doors closed, joel noticed the boy hughimg you, pressing himself against your body while his hands went straight to your ass.
joel understood everything. if he couldn't get you to behave like a gentleman, you left him no choice but to become controlling.
Can you write smut that has toxic konig but the female reader isn’t as submissive and she fights and argues back
toxic!bf!könig × toxic!female!reader
warnings: +18, smut, p in v, creampie, manhandling, teasing, public sex, spanking, mean könig, kinda toxic relationship!
könig held your arm tightly and dragged you through the party to the exit. you wobbled on your heels, still holding your drink while loudly insulting him.
it all started when you showed könig the picture of the couples costume you'd chosen for this halloween.
"i'm not going to dress up as gomez addams. no, no, no. don't even think about it."
"come on! you're going to look good! besides, i've never seen you in a tuxedo before..."
"a hideous striped tuxedo."
"...just one orginal tuxedo! and with a mustache!"
könig grabbed your phone from your hands and deleted the photo of morticia and gomez addams you'd chosen as inspiration.
"i'd rather cut off my dick than go to that stupid party like that. choose another costume or I'm not going. end of story."
you never took no for an answer, much less from könig. so you let him choose his boring old military costume: army pants, a black t-shirt, and a mask that hid his features.
what könig didn't expect was to see you coming out of your apartment dressed as a bunny, with a short dress with lace details and white ears on your head. if he wasn't going to join you in the halloween costume, then you could wear whatever you wanted.
he complained, threatening not to go to the party, but when you told him you'd still go, he changed his mind. you drank, ignoring könig's murderous glare. he snatched the glass out of your hand as quickly as he could, and you reached for another. he looked like your shadow, a 2-meter-tall masked soldier behind a bunny who wouldn't stop jumping when the dj played her favorite songs.
könig's patience ran out when a group of college students dressed as the mad hatter from alice in wonderland tried to grab you and make you dance with them. big mistake.
"i can't believe you brought me to this stupid party."
könig let go of you and walked through the parking lot looking for his car. what he wanted most was to go home.
"i didn't make you come here, idiot!"
you raised your voice and threw your empty glass at him, hitting his muscular back. he didn't even flinch and reached for his car keys.
"i wasn't going to leave you alone, dressed like that. wrapped up in a bow for all those idiots to take advantage of!"
"oh well, how thoughtful! thanks! thanks for making this night a mess!"
you yelled angrily, partly because of the alcohol and partly because you hated his attitude.könig finally turned to face you; he still had his mask on, so you could only see his eyes staring intensely at you.
in one swift movement, he pinned you against the hood of his car, grabbing your arms and placing you on your back, immobilizing you. you were about to complain, but he placed his crotch against your ass, letting you feel his pronounced bulge. könig brought his mouth close to your ear, whispering.
"i made your night a mess? do you know what it's like for me to see you like this, catching the eyes of all those idiots? my cock hurts like nothing you've ever imagined, bunny."
"you said it yourself, i'm wrapped up in a bow, all for you."
könig barely heard you, growling and slapping your ass hard, making you whimper. with one of his hands, he unzipped his pants and let his thick, hard cock slide out. you felt him caress your folds over your tiny underwear.
"please, stop playing and fuck me, idiot."
"in the animal world, bunnies like you are pure prey. you're in no position to ask for anything."
his voice held a certain grace; he enjoyed your suffering. even if you wanted to do something, he was stronger than you, and you had no choice but to accept whatever he wanted to give you.
he ran his fingers over your underwear, finding them soaked with your fluids. könig slowly lowered your underwear, enjoying the way you moved your legs, impatient to feel him.
"do you know what a barrack bunny is?"
you were about to answer, but the head of könig's cock slowly entered you, making you moan in response.
"they're bunnies like you, whose only use is to have their wet little hole filled with a military man's cock."
his deep thrust made you moan loudly and your breasts press even more tightly against the cold hood. könig fucked you mercilessly, seeking his sole pleasure, not caring that your clitoris was desperately demanding attention.
the thrusts echoed across the parking lot, along with your moans of pleasure and könig's grunts, along with degrading words about your costume.
"i'm going to cum inside you, and when I'm done, you're going to have my seed inside you for the whole ride."
he explained with difficulty. he released your arms and moved his hands to your hips, where he gripped tightly as he came deep inside you.
you took advantage and moved one of your hands to your clit, massaging it in circles until your own organ came, making you moan against his car.after a few seconds, könig pulled out of you, gathering his cum with his fingers and shoving it back inside you. he carefully pulled up your underwear and adjusted your dress, making sure you looked presentable.
you decide to follow your dream of becoming a model and send your portfolio to every major modeling agency. however, you also decide to look for opportunities nearby, which is how you ended up at könig's publication.
"i'm looking for a young model to boost their career. i'm an experienced photographer. contact me in the next number."
you quickly agreed on a time, and you showed up. it was a series of unassuming apartments in an isolated, almost abandoned part of the city. you knocked on the door, nervous but hoping this would be a good start to your career.
on the other side of the door, könig opened it. he was wearing a white shirt unbuttoned halfway and blue jeans. his figure blocked almost the entire door, and you were about to lie and say you were in the wrong place, but you decided to go in.
the apartment was small, dark, and so messy that it didn't seem like the photography studio könig had told you about on the phone.
"you look more beautiful in person."
he commented, looking you up and down while grabbing his camera.
you posed against one of the few white walls that weren't stained. könig pulled out two or three photos of you, a little impatiently.
"why don't you take off your clothes, okay? it's good to have underwear photos in your portfolio."
you hesitated for a few seconds, but könig's insistent gaze convinced you.
"relax, all the models have photos like that. besides, i can take my shirt off so you don't feel alone."
he sent you to sit on an old sofa where you posed in just a bra and panties. könig was more animated, relaxing his lips and taking increasingly daring photos of you. his large hand occasionally lowered to his crotch, where he arranged his bulge without any shame.
"okay, keep it up. you're going to dazzle on the runways."
you don't know how you ended up underneath him, naked, with his camera lens photographing your breasts. with his free hand, könig grabbed your neck while his camera kept snapping away.
his cock fucked you so deep that you struggled to breathe with each thrust. he had you trapped between the old couch and his muscular body, which sweated all over you.without missing a beat, könig photographed you, not caring that the flash blinded you.
he photographed your breasts bouncing with each thrust, your pussy struggling to receive his cock, and your confused expression.
"oh shit, do that face again, come on. let me photograph that angel face. i promise you'll be famous that way."
how does fugitive!könig feel about naive!farmer!reader? does he love her or is he pretending? how did he help her during her pregnancy? I love your texts!💞💞
fugitive!könig × naive!farmer!reader
part 1
warnings: +18, smut, sex pregnancy, emotional manipulation, murder!
after that encounter in the barn, the relationship between you and könig changed. he promised you he'd take care of you and that you should trust him, which you did.könig didn't have to hide his feelings for you anymore; you were all his now.
he took advantage of every situation to tell you how much he loved you and, in the process, to fuck you until you were almost breathless. you let yourself be carried away by him; after all, you loved him and were going to trust him completely.
your belly soon began to grow as the weeks passed. at first, you didn't understand, and your concern grew at the lack of your period. were you sick?
when you told könig, his eyes shone with excitement at the news. he reassured you, saying that you shouldn't worry about anything, that "that's normal when two people love each other," he said.
the news reached you when he took you to the village doctor and confirmed your pregnancy. you didn't have time to ask questions because könig convinced you it was good news, very good news.
könig saw the need for the two of you to get married as soon as possible. the ceremony was at home, intimate and simple. now you bore not only his last name but also his baby's. thus began married life.
as your pregnancy progressed, könig made sure you rested and didn't overexert yourself, taking the utmost care of you. he would get up earlier in the morning to prepare your breakfast and begin the farm chores. however, he also took care of you during the day, massaging your feet and holding your swollen belly to relax your back.
könig decided to change his appearance, growing a mustache and slicking his hair back. his body had also changed, gaining muscle and a few pounds, but still remaining the tall, strong man he was.
for your part, the pregnancy had only made you more beautiful, according to könig. your hair and skin shone, and your breasts had grown in a way that made könig drool every time he saw them.he fell asleep caressing your belly while sucking on your breasts, moaning happily until he fell asleep.
your hormones made you start to desire him more, asking him to stay with you for five more minutes before he went to work outside. and könig couldn't refuse.he made sure to fuck you in the way that was most comfortable and pleasurable for you. his favorite position was cowgirl, so you set the pace and he could see your breasts bouncing near his face. he loved hearing you moan his name every time he spoke to you.
"look at you, riding my cock like a bitch in heat. so full of me, but always wanting more..."
his large, calloused hands caressed your buttocks, helping you fuck yourself with his cock. and they could go on for hours on end, your arousal never going down, and könig would get hard just seeing you carrying his child.
you gave birth to a baby girl in the spring. you named her daisy. könig was over the moon, happier than he'd ever felt.
soon, you grew accustomed to motherhood and the housekeeping that könig had so insisted you follow. you passed by the house, carrying daisy on your hip as your dress blew in the breeze. könig continued working on the farm, knowing that when he entered the house, he'd see you there, waiting for him, excited to tell him what daisy had done during his absence.
"you're such a good mom, fuck, feel how you make me feel."
könig brought your hand to his crotch so you could feel his hard member. daisy was already asleep in her crib, so it was time for you to take care of him.
"at this rate, i think i'm going to put another baby inside you."
könig was on top of you, fucking you at a slow, deep pace while you caressed his back. one of his hands massaged your breast while the other rested on your stomach, feeling his cock slide in and out of you.
"do you feel it? do you feel how deep inside you i am? i'm going to fill you up again until you give me a little brother for daisy."
everything was going great until a young sheriff arrived in town. everyone was happy to have someone to look after them, even you, except for könig.
the problems escalated when he showed up at the farm one day with the idea of meeting everyone in town. you let him in and even offered him a glass of iced tea, which was meant for könig. the sheriff kept asking questions that seemed innocent to you. how did you meet? when did you meet? have you lived here long?
könig instantly noticed the way the sheriff looked at your chest through your blouse, not to mention the mischievous smile that formed on his face when he saw you blush at his not-so-innocent compliments. that idiot wanted to fuck his wife, you.
before könig could act, the sheriff showed up one afternoon when you and diasy were out in town.
"i know who you are. i saw your face on a most-wanted list."
the sheriff spoke, trying not to seem intimidated by könig's size.
"oh yeah? and what are you going to do about it?"
"i'm going to arrest you and save that young woman from a monster like you. in fact, i'm going to take your place."
before he could get the handcuffs out, könig had already smashed his head in with a shovel.
that night before going to sleep, you approached könig, who was cradling daisy in his big arms.
"love, we need to feed the pigs."
"don't worry, i've already taken care of that. they have enough food for several weeks."
warnings: +18, smut, dubcon/noncon, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, breeding kink, manhandling, painful sex, super mean könig!
"where do you think you're going?"
könig was leaning against the bathroom door, looking at you with an annoyed expression on his face. his arms were braced against the door frame, leaving you with no way out.
"i'm going to dinner with my friends. i told you i was going out."
you explained in a soft voice, not wanting to fight. you had told könig in advance about your dinner, and he has agreed at the time.
"i don't remember you telling me about… this supposed dinner."
he stared openly at the clothes you were wearing, as if you were naked or too provocative. you saw him cross his arms, visibly annoyed.
"don't even bother putting on makeup because you're not going out today."
he blurted out decisively, as if you had no choice but to accept his word.
"kö, please.. i already confirmed that i was going.."
"i don't care, today you'll stay home with me."
a lump formed in your throat from helplessness, and little by little, you felt tears threatening to spill out.
"please, I never go out… you know that…"
"well then, you won't go out today either. end of story."
könig turned and walked into the living room, leaving you alone in the bathroom with tears in your eyes. he'd gotten his way again, getting your hopes up only to clip your wings in one fell swoop. he loved seeing your eyes fill with emotion when he let you go out without him, but he loved seeing your eyes fill with tears even more.
you walked into the living room, still dressed, your makeup ruined by tears. könig was sitting with the tv on and your phone in his hands.
'sorry, girlss!! i won't be able to go out today, i'm not feeling very well
:('
the most important thing for könig was to pretend that your relationship was good and healthy. when it was clearly the opposite.
you walked over to sit beside him, shoulders slumped, sobbing. könig roughly pulled you towards him, placing your face against his muscular chest while stroking your hair.
"you have to stay with me, petal. it's not right for you to go out dressed like this, even at this hour."
you didn't respond; you couldn't. besides, no matter what you said, könig was always right.
"you have to stay and take care of your boyfriend. you have to be good to me. do you want to break my heart?"
you shook your head, slowly calming your sobs. könig grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap, forcing you to look at his face. he had a slight, mocking smile, almost as if he didn't want to rub his victory in your face. at the same time, he seemed amused by his power over you, by the ease with which he could destroy you in seconds.
"take care of me."
he murmured, settling into his spot and letting you feel his erection against your ass. your tears and pain excited him, so much so that it had become a habit for him to fuck you after every argument, even though you were still crying and sobbing.
"könig…"
"don't act like a fucking bitch now."
he stated without letting you finish. you didn't want to make him angry. you wanted to make him happy, because his happiness was your happiness. whether you wanted it or not, you had to obey him. könig never took no for an answer.
carefully, you unbuckled his belt and, with his help, pulled down his pants and boxers. his cock was hard and dripping with pre-cum, ready to fuck you.
könig put his hands under your dress and tore your underwear with his hands. you placed your hands on his shoulders, trying to slowly force his cock into you. but könig couldn't wait; he wanted it all now. he grabbed your waist and roughly pulled you down, fucking you in one motion.
you moaned in pain at the intrusion. given the size of his cock and your lack of preparation, it seemed to tear at your insides. könig moved his hips, fucking you mercilessly and without respite. you hid your face in his neck, trying to endure the pain while sobbing his name.
"this is how you should spend your friday nights. with my cock inside you, moaning my name…"
he growled, still holding onto your waist, making sure you wouldn't escape and that you'd take his entire length. you could feel every vein pulsing inside you.
"keep sobbing, the more you do it, the harder I'll fuck you."
his thrusts were deep and relentless. it seemed like he wanted to break you, both physically and emotionally. your nails dug into the skin of his neck and your tears soaked his shirt. from the way he groaned, you knew he was about to cum.
"i'm going to have to impregnate you so you'll learn that your place is here, next to me…"
hearing his words, you tried to escape, but he was faster, wrapping his arms around your waist and cumming inside you.
könig let out a moan that then turned into a satisfied laugh. in addition to your pain, könig adored your fear. your fear of not knowing what his next move would be, or what decision he would make about your life.
"what happened, petal? don't you want to start a family with me?"
someone else would have run away from there a long time ago, but you couldn't, or didn't want to. you could only hug him closer and pray that your birth control pills would work.
fugitive!könig who managed to escape the law, after committing several crimes, and now travels throughout the country hiding his identity.
On one of his many trips he ends up arriving at a small town, almost lost in time, where its few inhabitants live off their animal farms and orchards. Apparently no one had televisions, and the few radios only broadcast music that was overshadowed by static. This ensured that no one there would be able to recognize him and gave him the opportunity to stay and rest for a few hours.
Tired of walking and extremely hungry, König sat down in a small cafe to have a drink. The people around him looked at him strangely, not only because they didn't know him but also because of his intimidating appearance. His back was broad, he had long legs, and the muscles in his arms were noticeable even though he was wearing a wind jacket that covered him. However, no one seemed to be bothered by his presence, the people there loved tourists and König seemed completely like one.
When it was time to pay, he noticed that he had ordered and consumed more than he could afford. He was about to offer some of his "camping" knives in exchange for the money he was missing until a figure approached him.
"Don't worry if you don't have the money to pay." you spoke with a sweet voice and doing everything possible so that Konig would not feel embarrassed. "I sell the fruits to the owner of the place so I'm sure I can reach an agreement with him."
König was fascinated by you. Not only because of your timely friendliness but also your very natural and almost unique appearance that was very difficult to find in other places. You were wearing a jean gardener, some comfortable shoes and you were carrying a basket that minutes ago was full of fruits and vegetables from your garden. König looked down, somewhat shy and not knowing how to react to you, the truth is that during his escape he had not met many friendly people.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you for anything in return." You smiled when you saw that no words came out of his mouth. "Here we greatly appreciate tourists and travelers, after all they are the ones who keep this small town from turning into a ghost town."
You invited König to take refuge in your small house for as long as he needed before leaving again for another place. König accepted, surprised at your remarkable naivety in letting a complete stranger into your house and providing him with all the care.
When he arrived, you showed him where the shower was and what his room would be where he could rest. You left a clean change of clothes on his bed and selflessly went off to make dinner. Once he cleaned, König followed the delicious smell and came to the kitchen where you were on your back stirring a large pot of what seemed to be a stew. You were so focused that you didn't notice the presence of the big man behind you. he thought about how easy it would be to cut your neck with one of those long knives you had there. But the idea quickly disappeared when you turned around and a wide smile formed on your face when you saw him.
That stew was the best he had tasted in a long time, so much so that he served himself 3 plates, leaving you totally pleased. The next morning, König didn't really know exactly what to do. He could stay one more night and wake up in the middle of the night to raid your entire home, even leave after having a trip with you. He was hesitant, and that hesitation turned into doubt when you offered to cut his hair and trim his long beard, which he accepted.
That same afternoon König sat down to drink a lemonade made by you while he watched you harvest super large, red strawberries from a distance. He fixed his gaze on the way your pants hugged your butt in a tempting way and how you hummed a melody quietly that he couldn't make out. A tingling appeared in König's tummy and he suddenly noticed an erection growing inside his pants. You looked so pretty, so innocent. It was obvious from afar that you didn't kill a fly and that your care for him was sincere.
The days passed and König seemed to have no intention of leaving, that didn't bother you at all. Now he helped you with the heavy work on the farm, carrying large amounts of hay on his shoulder and feeding the animals. His favorite activity was watching you milk the cows, fantasizing about your hands and the way the milk dripped from them.
His approaches to you intensified, taking advantage of the slightest opportunity to touch you or rub against you. he soon discovered that you had no idea about any sexual activity, acting confused at his double meaning words and insinuations. You were the perfect muse to fulfill all his fantasies without anyone being able to stop him.
Your parents had died a long time ago, leaving you alone in charge of the big farm and all the obligations of the adult world. That led König to think that life on that farm couldn't be bad. He knew how to handle hard work well and you did everything you could to teach him and please him. The idea of starting from scratch, with you there, totally convinced him.
You were a healthy, hard-working woman and you needed someone like konig with you. But König needed to have something that would force you to keep him there with you, forever and that would confirm the mutual love that you both had to give each other. That's when he found the solution: he had to get you pregnant.
That afternoon he made a point that you wouldn't leave the stable until you were full of his cum. He started by complimenting your dress and how pretty that color looked on you. Then the caresses that increased in intensity until he managed to let you be carried away by him and his carnal desire. Now he had you under him, with your skirt up and your underwear hanging from one of your feet. Out of desperation, König only lowered his pants to his heels, even with his work boots on. You were on a large pile of hay, sweating from the great summer heat and moaning loudly.
His thrusts were brutal, making their way inside you that you barely had time to understand everything that was happening. The pleasure was so much that you could barely think about anything other than König's gaze and the way his balls slapped your ass.
"Oh, baby. You're so so tight.. And wet, shit" König groaned, sighing loudly at the pleasure your pussy was giving him. "Tell me, how did a cute little thing like you stay a virgin for so long, huh?" You opened your mouth to answer but only moans came out. "Uh? Talk to me, sweetheart, talk to me.."
"I.. I don't know.." you managed to say, overstimulated by everything. König's rough shirt rubbed against your clit, giving both pleasure and pain. König was so big that he covered you with his entire body, leaving you with almost no place to breathe air other than his breath.
"Uh? Don't you know? These farm boys are idiots... They wouldn't know how to please a pretty thing like you..." König cut off his sentence to get even closer to you and kiss you, putting his tongue inside your mouth. You tried to keep up with him but that triggered the kiss to be even wetter and hotter for him.
"König.. Give me more, please!" He smiled as he heard the urgency in your broken voice. You looked so pretty like that, almost not understanding what was happening but still pleased and eager for him to give you even more.
He, ready to please you, grabbed your legs and raised them to your shoulder, adopting a new position. His thrusts continued, his fat cock forcing its way into your no longer so virgin pussy and the simple sound of your skin slapping together made your warm walls embrace him. Not really knowing what to do, you brought your hands to König's big, muscular shoulders, feeling a few scars on them.
"Oh, my pretty little thing.. I'm going to fill you inside and you're going to be the prettiest mom in this whole damn town.." You dug your nails into his shoulder and your gaze was filled with confusion. "You like it, huh? You're going to make me so happy, isn't that what you want?"
You hesitated for a few seconds, not sure what he meant but his cock rammed even deeper into you leaving you almost without any thought. Tears formed in your eyes from the pleasure and absolute adoration with which he looked at you.
"Come on, mommy.. Make me happy, carry my precious baby.."
In the same way that König had managed to get his way in prison, he had gotten his way with you. Now you both lived together as a couple on the farm, happy and with a baby on the way inside your fertile womb.
Hey love, my request is Konig coming home after months of smelling male peers and sweat and he comes home and reader is in the bath smelling good covered in bubbles and he can’t help but want to join
bf!könig × female!reader
warnings: +18, smut, smell kink!
könig entered the house with a tired step, carrying his heavy luggage as if it weighed nothing. He looked around for your small figure waiting for him with open arms, excited to tell him everything that had happened during his time away, but nothing.
"where are you, little angel?"
he growled, moving carefully through the hallways of the house, searching for you like a lost dog looking for its owner. he went to the kitchen, hoping to see you cooking something delicious to welcome him, then he made his way to your bedroom. hopefully, you'd fallen asleep staring at your phone. just as he was about to call your name, the sweet sound of your voice guided him to the bathroom.
könig peeked his head through the half-open door and saw you there, submerged in the bubbling bathtub. you were humming a song while playing with the foam, completely unaware of his gaze on your bare shoulders.
"taking a bath without me?"
you jumped at the sight of his large figure, standing and looking at you, still in his work clothes. you didn't get to say anything when he was already undressing in front of you, ready to join you in the bubble bath.
his body was as strong and imposing as ever, only now a series of new wounds decorated his skin, giving you an idea of how difficult he'd been during this time. and his own body showed how much he missed you with a growing erection that sprouted from his boxers.
you made room for him behind you. könig entered the tub and sat behind you, allowing some of the water to spill out due to his size. he immediately hugged your shoulders, pulling you towards him and letting you feel his erection on your lower back. the smell of his sweat and dirt washed over you, but instead of disgusting you, it excited you with the warmth of his body.
könig's breath hitched against your neck, and his calloused hands caressed the delicate skin of your shoulders and neck. you involuntarily brought your hand to his cock, but he stopped you when he noticed your intentions.
"later you can have what yours, angel. now let me give your pussy some attention."
he murmured into your ear as one of his hands traveled to your crotch, where he found your clitoris. he gently stroked it with his fingers, feeling your body relax against him instantly. you closed your eyes, feeling his movements along with the combination of his sweat and the vanilla foam.
"poor little pussy, i neglected it for so long."
he delicately inserted one of his fingers inside you and found your spot. a moan escaped your mouth at the intrusion. you had gone all that time without touching you at könig's request, because according to him, he was the only one who should touch your pussy.
his finger caressed your insides with a slowness that was killing you. nothing but moans of his name came from your mouth, and your hands gripped his arms.
"that's it, feel it, feel my finger inside your tight pussy."
it only took a few more movements for you to finish on his finger, moaning his name. you might have felt embarrassed by how short you lasted, but you'd been away from him for so long that just a bite could make you finish again.
when you tried to lift yourself up to grab a towel, könig stopped you again.
"not so fast, you're going to cum on my cock now, angel."
bigdick!könig who thinks that with the mere size of his cock he can satisfy you.
you're lying sideways on your bed, one of your legs raised, and könig is behind you, fucking your pussy relentlessly. you limit yourself to reading the chat and thanking people for the donations, ignoring könig's futile efforts to make you moan.
"sweetheart, you're so tight."
könig murmurs behind you and then kisses your neck desperately.
you could feel him moving it deep inside you, but his movements were so clumsy and uncoordinated that they didn't give you pleasure, but rather made you uncomfortable.
"that idiot thinks that because he has a big cock he knows how to satisfy a beauty like you."
you read the comment aloud, then laughed out loud. könig stopped moving and leaned over your shoulder, reading the chat.
"Fuck off, asshole."
könig fucked you again, but this time with slower, more controlled movements. he moved one of his hands to your clitoris and massaged it gently, collecting your juices with the pads of his large fingers.
you smiled in relief as you noticed he was finally focusing on your pleasure. his cock throbbed inside you, and the special attention he was giving your clit made a few sighs escape your mouth, encouraging viewers to keep donating money.
"do you like the way I touch you? Mmh?"
könig murmured in your ear, his gaze fixed on your expression of pleasure in front of the camera. his big cock opened your small pussy and fed even more of his size kink.
"so small that she can't feel pleasure from my fat cock and you needed my fingers on your sensitive little clit."
Could we get some König with a SERIOUS breeding kink? Like- it’s all that’s on his mind with the reader- I love your work sm
bf!könig × female!reader
warnings: +18, smut, breeding kink!
from a very young age, könig knew he wanted to be a father. he loved the idea of having a family, a wife and son to take care of.
his relationships throughout his life didn't last long because as soon as könig found out his partner didn't want children, he ended the relationship. he didn't want to waste his time with someone who didn't share his desire.
until you came along. the perfect girl to bear his heirs and with whom to build his precious family. the children loved you, and you had a natural gift for caring for them.
every time you and könig went to the park, the children would crowd around you, asking you to play with them or asking a thousand questions about how you and könig met. könig simply watched you, imagining you playing with his children.
so, könig began planning and doing everything possible to get you pregnant as soon as possible. he would take you shopping at the mall, and the two of you would discreetly end up in the baby clothing section, where he would show you the tiny clothes and tell you how nice it would be to be able to dress his children like that.
or when one afternoon he started telling you about all the negative effects that contraceptives had on your body.
"don't you think it's better to stop taking it? i think having a baby isn't as harmful as the effects of those pills, right?"
könig became so insistent that you decided to stop taking the pill, under the promise that he would always use a condom.
in his spare time, könig would read online about the best positions for getting pregnant and which month of the year was best to avoid experiencing pregnancy symptoms. he would spend hours watching videos of new parents, their advice and experiences, imagining himself in that situation with you.
the key moment was when he took you to meet his family for christmas. all the women in his family accepted you as one of their own, making könig feel even more confident that you were the woman of his life. especially when his grandmother approached him and whispered:
"she's perfect, when will you give me a great-grandchild?"
a week later, könig had already bought a house for the two of them to live together. strategically chosen in a private area with a kindergarten just a few blocks away. that night I'll fuck you on the new mattress.
"your pussy is squeezing me so good. you really want my cum, huh?"
you bounced on his fat cock while your breasts bounced on his face. könig gripped your hips, helping you keep the rhythm and groping his skin possessively.
your clit thumped against his belly button, drawing eager moans from your mouth and encouraging you to keep bouncing. both of your juices trickled down könig's cock to his balls, making the most pornographic sound.
"let's start our little family, i'm going to give you my cum and you're going to give me the most beautiful children."
you tried to form words, but they wouldn't come out. könig wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you toward him and thrusting into you hard. you lay back against his chest and let könig fuck you until he finished inside you.
"take it, baby. good girl, good job, mama."
the weeks passed, and könig took advantage of every moment to fuck you and fill you with his semen. it wasn't long before your period missed and you were forced to take a test.
positive.
by then, könig already had a long list of baby names.
warnings: +18, sex tapes, dumbification, könig being a idiot!
mean!bf!könig who is so insecure that he makes hurtful comments about you to his loser friends, even with you present.
"she doesn't know how lucky she is to have me, right guys?"
he jokes with his friends, who enjoy the way you smile awkwardly and look down to check the time on your phone. könig simply strokes your head with his big hand, as if you were a stupid puppy at his complete mercy.
"she's calm now, but when we get home she's going to be unbearable. she won't leave me alone for a moment! so annoying!"
his idiot friends laugh, not having to imagine the scene much since könig loves secretly recording you while he fucks you. videos and photos of you in little clothes were the most common thing he posted to his friends' chats. all with the intention of bragging about how beautiful you were.
könig loved putting you in awkward situations, just like now. lying to you about where the two of you were going to dinner, insisting you dress sexy and provocative, then dragging you out to the bar with his stupid friends.
"i told her not to wear that slutty dress, but she didn't seem to listen. right, pup?"
but when you got home, everything changed. könig became the most submissive and pathetic person in the world.
"please don't be mad at me!"
könig knelt before you, grabbing your hips and moving you slightly so that you would give him some of your attention.
"i have to say all those things so none of them show interest in you! i'm afraid you'll meet someone else and leave me! please, don't ever leave me!"
and right there the tears began. könig sobbed on your bare legs while stammering how much he loved you.
"let me fix it, please. come on, i'm going to eat that delicious pussy of yours so you'll forgive me! what do you say, pup?"
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