mandoloriancookie

[mandoloriancookie]

Trust

Summary: When helping Din on a mission, you get doused in what turns out to be sex pollen. Forced to share a room together, Paz does everything to make sure you feel safe. But what if you feel safest with him?

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 8.9k | Rating: T

Warnings: dubious consent due to sex pollen, explicit sexual content, masturbation (f + m), dirty talk, thigh riding, dom!Paz, sub!Reader, slight degradation, vaginal sex, cream pies, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, lots of come (like a lot), fluff, soft!Paz, confessions, also Paz takes his helmet off but it’s okay?

This is a story that I originally wrote for my 500 follower celebration on my first blog back in September 2020. To this date, it is the first and only sex pollen fic I ever wrote but after rereading this, I am very tempted to write another one lol I hope you enjoy it and, as always, let me know what you think!

masterlist | crossposted on ao3

Sometimes Paz wondered how Din could talk him into the most ridiculous missions. It was not like he needed the credits or the respect. He had enough of both at home in the covert.

So why was he suffering through a hike on a humid jungle planet with no end in sight?

Behind him, Elen laughed loudly, followed by your quieter giggle and his heart clenched.

That was the reason.

Din had not only enlisted him and Cara but also one of the aspiring warriors of the tribe and – and you. Paz was not quite sure where Din and Cara had met you but you always seemed to be with them whenever he accompanied them on a mission. Your unspoken task was to take care of Grogu (although the little one sometimes seemed to be perfectly capable of caring for himself) and he always admired you from afar.

With this mission though, Din had needed all hands on deck. Which was the reason you were also on the hike, having left the baby safely on the ship. And as soon as he had heard that you would join the endeavour, well, let’s just say Paz had not been far behind to agree to Din’s request.

The aim was to find some sort of cave and harvest a planet there, a weird gimmick that could be sold for a lot of credits. The more people on the mission, the more bags could be filled and the more money could be made. Din and Cara were leading the party with you and Elen trailing behind while Paz was somewhere in the middle.

He had watched as Elen had talked to you for hours at length and, as much as it hurt to admit it, he envied the younger man for it. Elen was a good student, a good Mandalorian if not a bit overwhelming at times. But he never had any trouble making friends – not even with you.

Another bought of laughter sounded from behind him and Paz grumbled to himself. He had thought that this mission could be his chance at talking to you but maybe you were more interested in talking to Elen? And who could blame you? Elen was a fun guy after all.

But then Elen passed him as he walked up to Cara and Din, joking around, and Paz immediately noticed that you had not followed him. His fist clenched as he took a deep breath. The air was so humid it tasted heavy on his tongue and he grimaced under his helmet. Stars, he could not wait to take a shower after this.

The leaves crunched behind him and in a bout of courage, he decided to fall back and wait for you. This was the chance he had waited for all day.

As soon as your body appeared beside him, Paz’s heart decided to beat five times faster than it should be. Sweat had formed above your brow and you were obviously out of breath, the weather having taken its toll on you too.

“Hey …” he greeted you, clearing his throat at how high it sounded.

“Hey,” you smiled at him slightly, “Sorry, I am so slow, this humidity is just killing me.” With a wriggle, you adjusted the straps of your bag and Paz only now saw how they dug into your shoulders.

“Is it too heavy?

“Oh no, it’s alright,” you explained, “Elen talked me into carrying some of his bags.”

“What? That di’kut, I will –“ Paz started to walk faster, wanting to confront the boy. Elen needed to learn that he could not charm his way through everything. Especially if it was to your suffering. But before he could open his mouth to scold his student, you held him back.

It was your hand that wrapped around his and he whipped his head around. You looked tired, exhausted even, but you still graced him with a small smile that made him stop in his tracks.

“Please don’t,” you mumbled, wiping your other hand over your forehead, “I was glad to be rid of him, to be honest. He … he keeps talking the whole time and right now I quite enjoy just – talking to you.”

Paz was silent for a few seconds, letting your words sink in as he looked at you in disbelief. You could not see him of course but if you could … if you could have you would be able to see how his eyes had widened and how his mouth was gaping open as he looked at you. Then, again, when wasn’t he looking at you?

You liked talking to him. His heart fluttered. You liked talking to him.

But instead of saying something smart, the only thing he could bring out was, “If you wish, then I will stay here … with you.”

You did not talk more than that and Paz cursed himself. Had you not just said that you liked talking to him? Then why couldn’t he bring himself to start a conversation?

As you were trailing behind the rest of the group, Paz could swear that you sometimes looked at him but whenever he turned to make sure, you were looked either straight ahead or on the floor, trying to avoid stepping into any of the bright blue plants.

The mouth of the cave was overgrown with purple and green ivy and Paz noticed your hesitation. To be fair, he himself was reluctant to follow his brother in arms into an explored jet-black cave for – for whatever it was they were searching for.

“You sure this is the right place?” Paz asked him, one hand gliding to the rifle on his back.

“Has to be,” Din shrugged further ahead, “Cara, you stay here, the rest of you come with me, the quicker we collect the plant, the sooner we’re out of here.”

Without saying anything more, they all followed Din into the dark. With the lamps positioned on Din’s and his helmets, the path before them was at least a little illuminated. Still, the ground was rough and when he heard you stumble behind him, Paz held out his hand behind him. He had hardly grasped what he was doing before he felt you take his hand, interlocking your fingers together. Your warmth was at his back and Paz was extra careful to make sure you could see the path ahead as well.

The picking of the plant was quickly done with. Paz had experience in blending out Elen’s eager chatter and instead focused on making sure you could see your hands in the light of his headlamp. And you seemed to notice it too because you smiled at him – a broad, real, genuine smile that made his heart stutter – and he could feel the heat working its way up into his cheeks.

It all went downhill when they made their way back to Cara. Suddenly a bright red spore seemed to rain down on them, so spicy it made his eyes tear even through the helmet. His hands blindly reached for you, pulling you outside as quickly as possible as you coughed and coughed. He had been protected by the helmet, he did not want to imagine what you must feel like.

Din and Elen followed shortly after, coughing as well but otherwise fine. But as soon as Cara spotted them, she took a few hasty steps back. “Don’t touch me!”

“What?”

“What’s going on?” you slurred next to him, leaning against his shoulders and kriff it he wanted to touch, to bury his face in the crook of your neck and bury his fingers in your pussy.

“We don’t have a lot of time, we need to get you all out of here and fast,” Cara rushed out, already turning around and starting the track back to the ship.

“Why?” Din asked, hurrying to keep up with her as did the others. Paz kept an eye out for you while listening to Cara’s explanation.

“I have seen this once before. This pollen it’s – it’s strong. It heightens your sexual desire that you can’t help but try to relieve. I have heard of many people being driven mad by lust and being lost in the jungle. We need to get you to the ship so you can all ride it out in safety, understood?”

Everyone nodded silently, the baby cooing in her arms.

Paz felt uneasy, trailing behind the group to make sure you were safe as well. You had struggled to keep up before, now that the sweat was forming on everyone’s forehead for different reasons, he wanted to make sure you were okay.

“You okay?” he asked, waiting for you to catch up. You nodded quickly and he suppressed his desire to take your hand.

“Yeah I just … I think it is starting already, for me, I mean,” you explained breathlessly, stumbling over the root of a plant before catching yourself again.

The pace of the group was quicker than before, the urge to get to safety strong enough to push everyone to their limits. He worried for you. This was not usually the setting

“We’ll be there soon, alright, mesh’la?” he tried to calm you, “Just – just keep walking,” he murmured, resisting the urge to put his hand on the small of your back.

Was it starting for him too?

To be honest, he did not know how they all made it back in one piece. It was a miracle, really. With their luck, he had been half-expecting for some troopers to jump out of the bush and surprise them with a new weapon or another.

But as it was, the ramp lower before them and Cara rushed them up into the hull. The cold air was a relief on his skin, even through the beskar and he saw that you, too, seemed to relax slightly in the familiar environment.

Heavy breaths filled the silence as everyone allowed themselves to feel the pure exhaustion of the track back to the Crest for the first time.

Din was the first to speak.

“Store the plants in that crate there,” he ordered, straightening his posture and dumping his bag filled with the precious cargo into the box. Elen and Paz followed suit.

Only you, your whole body already heaving with breaths, a dazed look in your eyes, did not move.

Gently, Paz moved in front of you. “I will take that now, okay?” he murmured, his hands moving slowly to grab the big on your shoulders. You nodded but did not move to make the task easier on him. He frowned, worried that you might already be more affected than the rest of them.

When your bag was safely stored where it should be, everyone hesitated, unsure of how to deal with this unexpected situation.

“Cara will remain in the cockpit with the child,” Din decided finally, sounding out of breath, “We need to get out of here as quickly as possible and someone needs to have a clear head.”

Everyone nodded.

“There are only three lockable rooms on the ship, one of which is the refresher, so there are two,” Cara stated the obvious, “You all know how small they are so you will need to share.”

“’s no problem,” Elen grinned, suddenly slinging an arm around your shoulder, “Y/N here and I will share, isn’t that right, darling?”

Paz’s blood was boiling at seeing him touching you like that but what made it worse was the pure panic on your face. You blinked a few times; the pollen clearly already had affected you.

“No – no, I don’t want that,” you protested weakly, trying to get out of his grip, “I don’t – not with you – I, what –“

“Let go of her, Elen,” he growled, stepping towards you and ripping the boy’s arm off your shoulder, maybe a little too forceful considering the yelp he let out but Paz did not care. Not when you looked so relieved to be rid of him.

Immediately, you took a few steps back, right into his chest and Paz could have choked at the closeness. Stars, he wanted to touch you, wanted to curl up with you in his arms and never let go.

“Elen and I will share a room,” Din stated finally, nodding towards him and Paz knew his brother was aware of what was happening inside him. And he could not have been more grateful.

“So, we will share a room?” you asked hesitantly, looking up at him with wide eyes, your hand lightly brushing against his.

Paz nodded, his throat suddenly dry.

“Only if you want to, mesh’la,” he assured you, “I won’t touch you, I swear.”

*

What if I want you to touch me?

The thought got stuck in your head but of course, you did not say it aloud. You did not want to risk Paz laughing at you. But the truth of the matter was, you wanted him to touch you. Even before this crazy pollen had rained down on you.

Ever since Din had brought his giant brother-in-arms along, all you could think about was what it would be like to spend your days with him and only him. And the more time had passed, the more your immature crush had morphed into real feelings and now all you could was hope you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him.

Sharing a tiny room when dusted in sex pollen surely wouldn’t help that particular quest.

Paz still stood in front of you, blocking your view of Elen and you were more than grateful that he seemed to shield you from him. “I – I need to tod discuss something with Elen,” you could see his throat bob, “why don’t you go to our room and get comfortable? You can take the bunk.”

You nodded wordlessly, confused about what he could possibly want to discuss with Elen at this stage. But you felt how your mind slowly deteriorated, your core clenching at the sight of his hands, so you made your way to the small room. Through the fog in your mind, you were pretty sure that it was actually Paz’s room but you were not sure what to make of that information and why it seemed to be so important.

Every step you took seemed to fuel the fire in your belly and you could not wait to finally get that sticky underwear off your body.

When you arrived, the room was blessedly cold and you closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep, deep breath.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You opened your eyes.

The room was quite small. There was one bun to the side, the other wall remained free except for some piping. You frowned.

If you got the bunk, where would Paz go?

You spotted several blankets and pillows on his bed and decided to hang up one of the blankets above the bed, creating a curtain. This way there would be at least a little privacy for both of you. Taking a pillow and a thin blanket from the bed, you folded them neatly and set them down in front of the bed. Paz should be comfortable too.

You crawled into the bunk, feeling a bit clueless as to what to do now. Should you just wait until the pollen took its full effect?

Feeling the cool fabric underneath your palms you decided that it would feel much nicer if it was touching all of you and began to undress, throwing your clothes carelessly into one corner. There was a shirt in the bunk, a big one. Paz’s sleep shirt, your brain filled in the blank and you looked at the light grey fabric.

Would – would he mind if you were to just –

The next thing you knew was the worn feeling against your skin as his scent drifted into your nose- You closed your eyes, pretending that you were in his arms already, that he felt for you like you for him and that he wanted you here.

With a sigh you laid down on your side, hoping that if you rested enough, your body might just work through the drug by itself without the nasty side effect of wanting to climb everything in sight.

Paz was still not there.

*

You must have dozed off because when you opened your eyes again, your cheek was pressed to the pillow, your body feeling already quite hot.

There came a metallic sound from behind the curtain and it took you a bit of courage to push it aside, gaining a view of what was happening right across from you. You frowned.

Paz was sitting on the floor beside the piping in the wall. He was almost completely undressed, only wearing pants and his helmet. You swallowed thickly as you saw the tattoos that adorned his body, from the tips of his fingers over his arms and shoulders to his chest. You wondered if he had any tattoos where you could not see them yet.

But what confused you was the position he was in. Paz had raised one arm above his head, his wrist right next to one of the pipes as his other hand seemed to work on locking … cuffs?

“Paz, what are you doing?” you asked panicked, sitting up and flinching when your feet touched the cold ground.

“I … don’t want to hurt you, mesh’la,” he explained, shuffling to get in a comfortable position. A turn of his wrist later, one arm was successfully cuffed to the pipe as he held the key out for you to take. “I don’t want you to feel unsafe, so … I asked Din for the cuffs.”

“But that must be uncomfortable,” you tried to argue, walking towards him, “Are – are you really sure?”

“I want you to be able to trust me after this, cyare,” he shook the key, motioning for you to take it and you did. It was on a chain so you immediately slipped it over your head like a necklace.

“I hope you know that I do trust you, Paz,” you murmured, standing cluelessly in front of him, suddenly aware that you were wearing his shirt and only his shirt.

He seemed to notice too because his eyes raked over you hungrily, his tongue darting out to wet his lips and stars you wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt.

“You, uh, you look good,” he mumbled, shifting and his legs spread almost imperceptibly. Your thighs clenched. “Get some sleep, mesh’la, it’ll be a long night.”

*

When you woke up, everything was kind of hazy.

You were surprised to find that your fingers were already buried in your pussy, wet with your own juices. You gasped, gently circling your clit before dipping inside again. Paz’s fingers would be much larger, you were sure. They would be big and rough and he would whisper the filthiest things in your ears while he brought you over the edge again and again.

Your walls clenched around you, almost as if they were protesting that it was your fingers and not his. Or better yet, his cock.

Your head turned to the side, seeing that the curtain had shifted and while it still covered your body, it offered you a free view of him.

And oh, what a view it was.

He was so beautiful.

His cock was long and big and slightly curved, twitching in his hand. You watched him quietly, your breath catching in your throat as you saw his hand pleasuring himself. You wanted to do that for him. You wanted to touch him and pleasure him and you wanted to be the one he thought of when he came.

Your fingers began to move again as you watched him and before you could help yourself, you gasped his name into the thick air.

All of your movements froze when his head whipped towards you, his shoulders tensing as he met your gaze.

“Kriff,” he muttered, his head leaning back against the wall behind him, exposing his strong throat, “Keep watching me, mesh’la, if you want. Are – Are you pleasuring yourself?”

You nodded with half-lidded eyes as you saw how his thumb swiped over the head. He was so big.

Saliva gathered in your mouth at the sudden need to taste him. You wanted him so deep in your throat you would never forget what he tasted like.

“Tell me,” he instructed, his whole posture relaxing, “Tell me how you pleasure yourself, love.”

He did not seem to have the urgency that you felt. Or maybe he had some self-control left. You were not sure but one thing was clear: While he could still string some sentences together all you could think about was him inside of you.

“U-using my fingers,” you described in a whimper, pressing them deeper inside of you, “Wishing they were yours, they are – not enough.”

“Not enough, huh? Stars, how I wish I could be the one fingering you or fucking you or – or eating you out,” he hissed and you saw his hand close tightly around his base as if keeping himself from release, “Spent so much time thinking about what you’d sound like when you’d come for me and now it’s this – this shit.”

You flicked your clit, so close to the edge it made you cry when it did not give you the relief you had been hoping for. You tried again, your legs trembling, but your body seemed to simply refuse your attempts to bring you to completion.

“Is everything alright, mesh’la?” his voice sounded soft in your ears, even paired with the wet noise of him fisting his shaft.

“I – I can’t come, Paz,” you cried, tears of frustration running down your cheeks, “Why – why can’t I? I thought I could but now I – and it hurts and – and –“

He shushed you from his side of the room and as your crying ceased you could hear his frustrated noises and the clatter of the cuffs against the pipes. He wanted to come to you.

You sniffled, looking at him and hoping that it might calm him.

It did.

“It’s alright, mesh’la just – just do as I say, okay? Okay?”

You nodded before you remembered that he might not see the tiny movement. So, you brought out a hoarse “Okay.”

“Close your eyes, take your hands off your body,” he instructed and you whimpered, “I know, mesh’la, I know, just … trust me, yes?”

You did as he said, looking at him expectantly while trying to keep your hips from arching off the bed and into your hands.

“Alright, now, what – what would you want to do?” he asked, his hand still moving around his cock, “What would you want me to do?”

“Want you to – to touch me,” you admitted in a whisper, feeling a little shy at exposing yourself like this.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Paz chuckled, “You got to be more specific than that, love. No matter how much I’d like to worship your body all at once, I have to start somewhere, don’t I?”

He had a point and so you thought on it for a moment.

“I would want you to touch my chest,” you decided, your fingers drifting across your middle to your breasts, cupping them, massaging them, imagining his hands instead of yours, “Would want you to – to bite at them a little, mark me up just enough that I can feel it the next day …”

“I could do that,” he agreed, almost eagerly, “I’d suck and bite at them until you’re a soaking mess underneath me, mesh’la, I bet your nipples are hard, hm?”

You looked down at your chest, rolling your nipples between your thumb and forefinger, gasping out a Yes for him to hear.

“How many fingers did you have in your pussy before?”

“Two.”

“Good,” he groaned, “I want you to try and fit a third one in there, alright?” – you groaned – “Just pretend it’s my cock stretching out your little hole. I am not small, it’d take some work but stars you can be a good girl for me, can’t you? Want to hear you say it, love, can you be a good girl for me?”

You slipped one finger inside of you, quickly followed by another before you answered him in a whimper, “Yes, I – I can be your good girl.”

“Working that third finger in?” he asked and you nodded, the stretch such a new sensation you could hardly speak.

With your head turned to the side, you tried to hold his gaze, rhythmically working your fingers inside of you until you stretched enough for the third and oh it was good.

You were not sure what it was, the way your mouth gaped open, the glazed-over look in your eyes or maybe nothing that had anything to do with you but Paz came. And he came hard. His cum splattered all over his stomach and chest and you saw the way his cock twitched in his hands and just as you thought what it would feel like to have him spill himself inside of you, you came.

Wave after wave of please crashed over you and the sheets under you felt suspiciously wet but you only smiled, feeling more relieved than anything.

It was quiet for a while. Then –

“You – You okay over there?” his deep voice asked. He sounded tired too, just a little.

“’m embarrassed,” you said, your eyes drooping closed, “I didn’t – didn’t want you to feel like you had to – with me, I mean …”

“I didn’t pretend, mesh’la,” he replied tucking his softening cock inside his briefs, “Get some sleep, love, you look exhausted.”

*

Sleep welcomed you like a familiar friend.

You dreamt hazy images, of pleasure and lust and love and of Paz’s voice telling you he didn’t pretend. You were not sure if you imagined the last part.

What you didn’t imagine, however, was the loud clanking of the cuffs against the pipes, the loud gasps from Paz from across the room that woke you up.

“I can’t breathe!”

“What?”

“I can’t – can’t breathe, mesh’la,” he repeated, one hand trying to somehow get under his helmet, “kriff, I – take it off, please, take it off.”

Alarmed you stood up, rushing over to him, not caring that you were completely naked. Fear gripped your heart at his thrashing body. “Are you sure? I – your creed, I –“

I don’t want you to hate me after this.

“Medical exemption,” he wheezed, his one hand continuing to tug at the lip of the helmet while the other chafed against the cuff, “need two hands, kriff, I –“

Before you could clink you were kneeling in front of him, taking the helmet in between your two hands and lifting it off his head. It was heavier than you had imagined and you were not surprised that in his panic, one hand had not sufficed to free it of him.

You set the blue metal down next to you, looking up at him only to be faced with the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He had piercing eyes, a prominent nose and his lips … stars, his lips were as kissable as you had always imagined.

This was your Paz.

He was wheezing still, taking in air in gulps and you could see the sweat pearling on his forehead. There was a look of pure fear in his eyes and your heart broke for him. Gently, your fingertips brushed against his temple, “Better?”

Paz nodded, his eyes closing.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, pressing a light kiss to his cheek, “It’s alright, Paz, you are safe.”

You felt him relax against you, his hand coming up to your back, holding you to him. His nose nudged against the space beneath your ear and you smiled, pressing another kiss to his neck, hoping that he would feel better if you were there.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin, “Thank you, love.”

You stayed like that for quite a while, just resting in each other's arms and you wished it would never stop.

But the longer you were pressed against him, the more prominent became the fact that you were straddling him, your core settled perfectly above his crotch. Your body was screaming for you to move, to be filled by him and only him and get that sweet, sweet release.

And when you did not follow that instinct, the drug punished you with a harsh cramp that made you gasp out loud, almost doubling over in pain. Paz’s eyebrows furrowed, his hand coming to your waist, his thumb brushing over your skin.

“What is going on? Are you hurt? Mesh’la, how can I help, what – what can I do?”

“I – It’s alright,” you gasped out, tears gathering in your eyes, “It just hurts. It – kriff, it hurts so much.”

Then, his leg shifted underneath you, his thigh coming up to press against you and you gasped, “Paz, I – oh, you don’t – don’t have to –“

“C’mon, love,” he whispered, “Just a little … just a touch, I won’t touch you if you don’t want to but I can’t stand to see you cry.”

Your ears heat up at his suggestion but your walls fluttered around nothing and you nodded. You watched as he stretched his legs, his hand guiding you until you lowered yourself onto just one thigh. The material of his pants was rough and cool against your core and you sighed in relief.

Suddenly you were so close, closer than you had ever been and he was without his helmet.

You looked him in the eyes, your first time consciously doing that, and when he smiled tentatively you knew you had made the right decision.

The slightest touch on your clit made you shudder. But it was better than your own hands, this was something – someone – different.

“Have you ever ridden someone’s thigh before?” he asked and his voice sounded husky, even without his helmet, and you shook your head. You had the desire to hide from his gaze, you were so embarrassed. How needy you were, riding his thigh and already the first touch almost made you come.

“Come on, I will show you,” he whispered, “just be a good girl and relax, yeah?”

He mouthed at your throat before pressing the lightest kiss to your temple. The gentle gesture paired with the throbbing of your cunt made you mewl and just … push down.

The pressure was delightful, lighting up your whole body, and you did it again, gasping into the cool air as the friction against your clit made you see stars.

“See, you almost figured it you yourself,” Paz chuckled, his hand wandering to your hip and gripping you tight but not painfully so, “You just got to … move a bit, hm? I promise it’ll feel much better.”

You doubted anything could feel better than the overall pressure against your most sensitive parts but you allowed him to move you anyway.

And oh, by the stars was he right.

He guided you to grind along his thigh, up and down, the rough fabric rubbing against you, against your clit, in the most delicious way. You gasped again, immediately embarrassed by how needy you sounded and out of instinct, buried your head in the crook of his neck.

“Don’t get shy on me now, love,” he whispered, pulling you along his leg. You could feel his hard cock leaking against your thigh and you mewled. You wanted him to fuck you so bad but you also wanted to come like this but most important of all you wanted him to keep talking.

“Does that feel good, love?”

You buried yourself closer to him, your hands resting on his chest. With the movements of your hips, your nipples were rubbing against him and you bit your lip. You felt so hot and so good.

A slap to your ass made you jump and yelp. It did not hurt but it made your skin tingle all the same, the spot where his hand had met your behind getting warmer by the second.

“I asked you a question,” he murmured, gripping your ass cheek harshly, pushing and pulling you.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered against his neck, “feels really really good, Paz, please don’t stop, wanted this for so long.”

“Knew you’d be such a good slut for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, rubbing yourself against his thigh and shuddering at the pressure on your clit, “’m your slut, Paz, just yours, I – stars, wanted you for so long, please – please let me come …”

“Let you?” he repeated, almost amused, “Stars, love, are you asking my permission? Do you need me to tell you to come? Are you that good for me?”

“Yes,” you gasped, grinding against him some more. You felt him hard and hot against your thigh. So big and warm and his hand was heavy on you, grounding you into reality through the haze of your arousal.

“Then come,” he growled into your ear, nipping at your earlobe, “I want you to soak my thigh, little one, can you do that for me?”

You nodded, looking into his eyes, mouth gaping open. His eyes kept you looking at him, your fingers trailing all over his face as if that would make him even more real before you.

Your whole body tensed. You felt the trembling even in your toes as your hands gripped his shoulders, somehow trying to steady yourself as you came. A silent scream made your mouth open, Paz’s lips on your neck pressing kisses to the sensitive skin.

“Good girl,” he murmured, gently caressing you as you came down, “Good girl.”

You sighed, your body relaxing as you leaned further into him. “Thank you,” you whispered, eyes slowly closing.

“Of course, mesh’la,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a slight kiss there, “Of course.”

You breathed deeply, relaxing and enjoying the aftermath of the pleasure in your core.

Beneath you, Paz shifted and you became aware of his sizable erection against you. True to his word, he had not made a move.

“Would – would you ever sleep with me?” you asked shyly, wincing at the pressure against your clit, “I mean without the pollen, would you have ever … ever considered sleeping with me?”

You felt his hand tighten on you and swallowed harshly, somehow trying to brace yourself for the rejection.

“Love,” he murmured, “I – I have thought about this so many times, I would’ve – kriff, I would’ve wooed you if I’d gotten the chance before this,” he admitted, “I – kriff, I love you.”

Your heart stopped.

He loved you.

He loved you.

Your hands trembled as you raised them to the chain that kept his hand above his head. He shook his head, “mesh’la, what are you doing? You – you don’t have to –“

“But I want to,” you smiled, “Please, Paz, I – I want to feel you inside me.”

His eyes were wide and he nodded quickly, “Okay … okay, whatever you want, love, whatever you want.”

You traced the patterns on his arms, wondering if one day he would tell you how he got them. As soon as his hand was free, the metal fell to the floor with a clank. Immediately both his hands grasped your, interlocking your fingers and he smiled at you so sincerely it took your breath away.

“Can I fuck you, mesh’la?” he whispered, pushing his bulge against your core, “Please, I promise I’ll make you feel good. Want to see you ride me, love, move on my cock like the good girl you are.”

“Yes,” you nodded, wetting your lips as you lifted your hips.

You watched as he kicked off his pants, taking off his underwear so that he was completely bare before you. You knew that he was big, had seen so when he had taken himself in hand. But being so close to him now, seeing how his cock rested against his stomach, leaking precum and twitching, you suddenly got a sense of how much of a struggle it would be to actually take him.

“You ready, love?” he asked you, lips pressing against yours, “If you don’t want to, we still can –“

“No!” you protested much too quickly, heat rising in your ears at how desperate you sounded, “please, I want to – want to feel you, just, I need your help, I think,” you trailed off, tracing the vein on the underside of his shaft with your eyes, “You’re so big …”

The large man let go of your hands, grabbing your hips instead.

Understanding what he wanted you to do, you grasped his cock, lining him up with your entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, sank down on him. Thanks to the pollen and your previous orgasms, you were so wet you were practically dripping in it, your thighs shining in the light with the essence they were covered in.

But it was exactly this wetness that allowed you to take the first few inches of him without any problems. Sure, his girth stretched you to a point you had never experienced before and the more you sank down on him the more you mewled into his mouth.

He felt hot inside you, like the liquid heat that had built in your core and you took several breaths, trying to adjust to the sheer size of him. Paz kept his hands on you the entire time, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin and you could feel his chest heave with the effort of restraining himself. You did not want to imagine the control he was exerting over himself.

When your ass met his thighs you both sighed a breath of relief, allowing yourself to just enjoy this moment of intimacy. It was like you could feel him twitch inside you and while you felt like you would explode at any moment, you also felt so close to him like never before.

“You good?” he asked you, one hand at the back of your neck pushing your face against his forehead, “You feeling okay?”

“I feel perfect,” you answered back with a blissful smile, “I – I love you, Paz,” you kissed him softly, lifting your hips just a little bit before sinking down on him again. You heard him groan lowly. “I love you so much, ever since Din introduced you to me all I could think about was how it would feel to have you inside me.”

“Hope, uh, hope you’re not disappointed, love,” he joked, his brows furrowing at a particularly deep thrust.

“Not at all,” you gasped, your eyes rolling back in your head as he nudged your cervix, the slight twinge of discomfort perfectly pairing with the running lava inside your veins, “F-feels really good.”

“Yeah?” he asked you, thumbing at your clit, “Think you can come for me then? Don’t worry, it won’t be the last time. Just want to fill you up now, leaves us more time to add onto it, don’t you think, love?”

You wanted to answer with something clever, something witty. But all you could bring out was a pathetic whine in the back of your throat as you clenched around his cock, wetness dripping down his shaft as you tried to keep a grasp on reality.

Fuck, how did each orgasm feel better than the last?

With him tensing underneath you, you felt the first few pulses of his cock until he filled you so completely you felt the warmth deep deep inside of you.

Coming down from your high this time was a much slower affair. It was like you had been packed in wool, hearing and feeling things as if they were far away and you were floating on a cloud. You could feel Paz’s lips on your face as he kissed your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose and your lips. You smiled with your eyes closed, swaying on top of him.

He manoeuvred you around, lifting you off his cock and you distantly heard yourself whine at the loss. You felt his come escaping you, dripping down your thighs and onto the floor and while you should feel messy your first thought was that you just did not want to lose it. You wanted to keep him inside you as long as possible.

You were on your front now, your cheek pressed into a soft pillow while your chest pressed against the cold floor, your nipples hard from the temperature and your ass up in the air. Paz’s hands were massaging the globes of your ass and then he was inside you again, fucking the come you had lost right back into you.

You moaned, your vision and hearing getting clearer and clearer while you still trembled from your last orgasm.

“Back with me, little one?” he rasped into your ear, a light smack on your behind and you smiled dreamily.

“Y-yes, please, don’t stop, don’t – don’t stop, want you inside me again,” you murmured into the pillow, your words mushed together from how overworked and needy you felt.

“Don’t worry, little one,” he murmured, his hips working himself deeper inside you. In this angle he stretched you even further, rubbing along your walls in a way that did not let you get used to him – you loved it. “Don’t worry, I won’t stop fucking you until you’re so full of my come you won’t ever doubt whom you belong to.”

Something in you clenched at the thought of being marked by him, filled by him, again and again. You were not sure if it was the pollen and to be honest you doubted it. Instead, you raised your ass higher, wanting him deeper and gasping at the way you felt another orgasm approaching.

Already?

As if of its own volition, your hand slithered between your body and the floor, wanting to reach for your clit, circle it, flick it, teasing you until you came around him. But Paz saw it differently. Rough fingers closed around your wrist, pulling your hand away from your body surprisingly gentle.

“No.”

You whimpered, clamping around him at the way his voice rumbled in your ear.

“You will come when and how I want it, understood?”

“Yes,” you gasped, nodding frantically and rocking back onto him, feeling yourself drip down your thighs, “Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl.”

He leant forward, his hands pushing yours next to your head and holding you down. All you saw were his tattooed fingers, holding yours down while he pounded into you, making you moan out loudly. You wanted this forever.

You heard him groan loudly, almost a shout, really, behind you, his whole body tensing and then he was pulsing inside you, shooting ropes of come inside you again. You gasped, wriggling closer to him to make sure none would escape. But instead of stilling and pushing himself deeper inside you to keep his come where it should be, he kept fucking you relentlessly.

And he was still hard.

“Paz,” you gasped, “Paz, what are you doing?”

“You didn’t think I'd be done after filling you up only twice, huh?” he asked you condescendingly, his hands slightly squeezing yours, “No, love, I’ve got quite a few loads in me, can – can kriffing feel it. Need to fill you up again, will you let me?”

You nodded, unable to speak anymore. There was a tear running down your cheek, a result of the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins, your body using every outlet available.

He wasn’t angry when you came without his permission, clamping so tightly around him you were sure it had to hurt. No, his hands were gentle as they ran down your back to your ass, pulling you once more on his cock while your whole body convulsed in pleasure.

“Doing so good for me,” he murmured, “My good girl.”

And that’s exactly what you wanted to be.

His good girl.

When he came for the third time, you felt it leaking out of you with each thrust, your pussy too full of his cock and his come to hold it in. It was a steady flow, the squelching noises loud in your ears as you felt so dirty for taking him like this, for being so turned on by it.

“It’s too much – too much come, Paz,” you finally gasped out, tears of overstimulation painting your cheeks, “It’s – I – I am so full, please …”

Immediately, his movements halted, even though his hips still kept twitching slightly. It made you all the move aware of the come running down your thighs, a mixture of yours and his. His hands on your hips squeezed you gently.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, the worry in his voice clear.

You took a deep breath, feeling your head clearing up a little. Pondering his question, you shook your head. “N-not yet,” you whispered hoarsely, “I can take one more, I think, o-one more please.”

“One more,” he agreed softly behind you, his hips slowly starting to move again, “One more and then I have filled you up enough for today, does that sound good?”

“Y-yes.”

“Will you come for me one more time, too, love?” he asked you, bowing over you again so that you could feel his chest press against your back. His lips were by your ear and your trunked your head awkwardly until you could catch his lips.

Considering how roughly he had pounded into you, how messy you looked now, this kiss was soft, chaste almost. As your eyes blinked open you could see the absolute love in his eyes and your heart warmed.

Much like yours had before, his hand snuck between your body and the floor, seeking out the bundle of nerves between your legs as he kissed you.

“Come for me,” he murmured as his thumb rubbed circles over your clit, “One more time, my love, come for me, want to feel you clenching around me when I fill you up, ‘kay?”

You nodded breathlessly, moaning into his mouth as you came around him.

Your body felt heavy and full as you sagged onto the floor, ungraciously smushed against the pillow when he once more filled you up. It was pure bliss and you swore you would never get tired of feeling him like this. All tense and hard and pulsing.

Paz’s forehead fell between your shoulder blades as he pressed kisses to your sweaty skin. “C’mon, love,” he whispered in your ear, pulling out of you with a wince, “Let’s get you comfortable, hm?”

You nodded, your eyes already falling closed.

You were dead asleep by the time Paz got you into the bunk.

*

When Paz woke up he could not believe his luck.

He was naked and you were naked and he had told you he loved you and you loved him too and he was curled around you as if that was where he had belonged all along.

He had one hand on your belly, the other lazily cupping your breast and his fingers twitched slightly, feeling the soft flesh. A blanket was haphazardly thrown over both of you and Paz felt the cold air on his back but he did not mind. As long as you were comfortable.

His nose was buried in the crook of your neck and he could feel your even breathing as you were still in a deep sleep. He smiled, pressing a kiss to every spot he could reach. Stars, he loved you. He loved your body, loved your soul, loved the way you smiled at him and the way you turned sleepily in his arms, shuffling closer to him even in your sleep.

How had he ever deserved something so beautiful?

Lost in his thoughts, he did not notice your eyes fluttering open until your soft lips were pressed against his jaw. “Morning,” you mumbled, a lazy smile stretched across your face as your hand wandered up to his chest, palm resting over his heart.

“Good morning, mesh’la,” he greeted you, unable to help the giant grin on his face, “How did you sleep?”

“Wonderful,” you replied, lightly scratching your nails on his chest in a way that made goosebumps rise on his skin, “I – I feel like I should have the biggest hangover but I don’t?”

He chuckled, gazing at you, his hand wandering to the small of your back and pulling you closer. “Might be the pollen,” he said, “Cara mentioned that we might have to sleep them off, remember?”

You frowned, “Not really. I – To be honest, all I remember was thinking about you …” then you looked up at him, your eyes searching his for something he was not sure about, “Now that your thoughts are clear, does – does that mean you have to put your helmet on again?”

The way your voice broke made his heart clench and he swallowed thickly. He ducked his head, kissing you softly and enjoying the way you relaxed into him, opening your mouth for his tongue to slip inside and taste you.

“I – I should but I don’t want to,” he answered truthfully, placing a hand on your cheek, “I want to keep looking at you just like this. Just for a while longer.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch.

If only every day could start like this.

“I – what – what if I keep it off when we are alone?” he suggested timidly, the fear of rejection gripping his chest tightly, “It – it would mean that we are courting that I, that I would want to marry you someday but I do and I – what would you think?”

“I would think that that is a very good idea,” you whispered back, talking as if it was your own little secret and the smile that bloomed on your face let him know that you were serious. That you were happy. “I would very much like to court you, Paz,” you clarified, “I love you.”

He laughed, boisterous and happy and unafraid of the others hearing him because you loved him and you wanted to court him and –

“Stars, I never thought I would be this happy to be infected by some strange pollen,” he chuckled, pulling you close to kiss you again. His hand dropped to the back of your knee, encouraging you to throw it over his hip but you squirmed.

He stopped, “Everything alright? Did I – are you hurt?”

“Just a little sore,” you responded, averting your eyes as if you were embarrassed and Paz frowned, “And I – I think my thighs are a bit … messy,” you finished, “You, uh, you came a lot yesterday, Paz.”

Remembering the way he had filled you up – four times at least, his brain offered helpfully – he felt himself grow harder and cursed inwardly. “I am sorry, love,” he offered, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth, “Let me make up for it, hm?”

Carefully he rolled you over until you were lying beneath him, smiling up at him still with the sleep in your eyes but your legs spread around his hips, “And how do you propose to do that, Mr. Vizsla?”

The blanket fell away from your body and he feasted on the sight before him. There were marks and hickeys all over your skin. Marks and hickeys that he put there. He leant down and caught one hard nipple in his mouth, nibbling at the sensitive skin and grinning when he heard your surprised gasp followed by you pushing your chest closer to his mouth.

“I think I can think of something,” he teased you, looking up at you with your skin still between his lips. The way you bit your lips, stars he could come at the sight …

“Is the coast clear?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Paz groaned above you and heard you giggle. Grateful for the curtain that was still in place in front of the bunk, shielding you from Cara’s view. Cara who had come in to check on your apparently.

He dipped down to kiss you again, smirking as he felt your legs wrap around his hips. He grew harder, his cock brushing against your core and you gasped.

“Sounds like you’re busy,” she commented drily and he scoffed.

“Lock the door on your way out,” he grumbled between kisses, nibbling at your collarbone, “We’ll be busy for a few hours still.”

*

Hours later, when both of you were sated again, Paz pressed one last kiss to your forehead before finally getting himself to leave the bunk. You whined, your arms reaching out for him sleepily and he wanted nothing more than to return to the little safe haven you had built for yourself.

But there was still a mission to complete.

“I need to take a shower, love,” he explained soothingly, “And then I will make sure you have all the time in the world in the refresher, yeah? No Elen or Din bothering you about it.”

You smiled droopily at the thought, your eyes already fluttering closed again and he smiled. “I love you,” he whispered.

Sleepily, you smiled at him cuddling into the pillow that he had previously occupied, “I love you too, Paz.”

[mandoloriancookie]

Ni Ceta

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Word Count: 5.7K

Summary: Your second day in the covert reveals both new and familiar faces; hospitality and hostility.

Chapter 2 of the Shereshoy series | Masterlist | Ch. 1 | Ch. 3

Warnings: lots of Mando’a, mild language, soft Din, awkward Din, protective Din [he’s got a wide range, okay?], original Mandalorian characters… maybe a little bit of angst? It’s mostly worldbuilding, so I think that’s about it. 

AN: A word from the author – "I'm in grad school, I take forever to write things." This is the second part of a sister fic for my fic Courting a friend of mine wrote based on this request, and I’m so happy she’s letting me share it with you guys! In this chapter, we get to see some new faces – or helmets, I should say – and I am here for what they have in store for us! Thanks for reading, we hope you enjoy 💛

This series is also on AO3, so you can read this chapter there too…

Translations:

Baar’ure: medics 

Gotabor(e): (approx) mechanic(s)

(Lit.) engineer(s)

Aruetii(se): outsider(s)

Me’bana?: What happened?

Copikla bal mirdala: cute and clever 

Copikla: meant to refer to babies and animals - never women unless you want your head ripped off

Could be considered a backhanded compliment or an insult

Ne shab'rud'kaysh, vod:  (Approx) Don’t fuck with her, brother. 

(Lit.) Don't mess with her, brother. (extremely strong warning, likely to be followed by violence)

N'eparavu takisit, vod: (Approx) Sorry, brother. 

(Lit.) I eat my insult, brother

Me’dinui: share, give to one another 

Aliit: family

Solus mhi oyacyi: (Approx) United, we remain

Buy’ce: helmet

Ik’aad: baby, child under 3

Jatne vod: “sir” or “ma’am” 

Cabur(e): guard(s)

Kad: In reference to Kad Ha’rangir, destroyer god in the old Mandalorian pantheon

Utreekov: fool, idiot (lit: emptyhead)

Ni ceta: (Lit) I kneel, (approx.) I’m sorry 

Ni ven’ceta par gar ratiin: I will always kneel for you

You feel the chill of the cave air settle around you as you rise from your slumber.

Opening your eyes, a soft glow leaks into your space from the room adjacent— signaling that Din is also awake. Not that he sleeps for very long anyway. Rather than immediately leaving the comfort of your sleeping mat to join him, you opt to spend a few extra minutes holding the little one close, hand on his back, as he continues to sleep soundly on your chest. Mornings like these are commonplace— cuddling with the Child until you feel ready enough to begin the day; making fresh caf for you and Din to share, feeding yourself and the little one, while enjoying the quiet company of one another in the cockpit. Perhaps our routine can stay somewhat the same, even here.

Mustering the strength to pull yourself from your warm cocoon of blankets, you slowly rise, trying to not disturb the Child. Two feet on the cold stone ground, and a blanket wrapped over your shoulders, you wander towards the common room. 

In the corner sits a short-legged table, the perfect height to tuck ones’ legs beneath while enjoying a meal, or in this case, the morning caf. Din sits beside it, his shoulders and head leaning against the wall, his legs outstretched and crossed in front of him, and his hands interlaced across his abdomen. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was sleeping; but for the first time in a long time, Din is simply relaxing. 

His head turns slightly to look at you as you approach, his arms slowly extending upward for the morning trade-off of the Child. Din guides him to lie against his shoulder while you ease yourself down to the floor, sitting across from him. Getting to watch Din with the Child like this was rare— it wasn’t often Din was able to decompress, allowing his body a break from the constant weight of armor. With bounty hunters and Imperials searching for the three of you, danger lurked around every corner. Din had to be prepared to fight at any moment. Seeing him unarmored and at ease— getting to enjoy the simple action of cuddling with his Foundling— makes you feel more calm, despite how unsettled you had been the day before.

“Did you sleep well?” Din asks— his voice soft, to not stir the Child. 

“Yeah…” you nod, your fatigue causing you to trail off, leaving your thoughts incomplete. When Din shut out the lights before falling asleep, the pitch black  of the cave was not unlike the darkness in the Crest every night. Despite the sleeping mat not quite matching the feel of your bed on the ship, the familiarity of the darkness had been a comfort, allowing sleep to come easily. 

However, it wasn’t entirely refreshing— with the usual lag of being on a new planet, as well as the ever present nip of the air throughout the night. Feeling the chill of the bedrock beneath you, you pull your blanket tighter around yourself. “...but it’s colder here than I expected.” 

He readjusts, shifting the child to his other shoulder before replying. “The temperature underground remains constant,” he tells you, not unkindly, “It’s best to dress warmly— prevents the stone from absorbing your body heat.” He taps his fingers on the ground to emphasize his point. You nod, and the three of you ease into a comfortable silence, Din continuing to lie against the wall as you pull the blanket tight around you once more, hunching forward to rest your arms on the table, and your head atop your arms. It’s almost too easy to doze off again, your grogginess coupled with Din’s calming presence. 

Before you’re able to drift back into a light sleep, he gently places his free hand on your arm, giving a light squeeze. His gruff voice just barely above a whisper, “I know you’re tired— but we won’t be out long… You’ll meet the baar’ure and the gotabore, and we’ll come back here.”  

Gotabore— that’s a new one. The mechs? 

Your eyes meet his visor again, and with a small sigh, you nod at him. “Let me get dressed… then I’ll make the caf.” Giving him a weak grin, he gently removes his hand from your arm, allowing you to stand back up and return to your sleeping area once again. While changing into a set of durable work-clothes, the time alone offers you the chance to reflect on the current arrangement— reiterating once more where you’ve come to, and why.

Recalling back to the discussion with the Alor the day prior— inquiring about some of your aptitudes and skill sets, tasking you with specific labor, and instructing Din the same. Being a guest in their home; shielding you from any dangers, being given a bed to sleep in and meals to eat— requesting that you earn your keep seems reasonable. But why did she ask— tell— Din to bring you here? When you first met, she did not deem you as a member of his clan, despite your… relationship with Din and your role as the other caretaker of the Child. Currently— the populace of this pseudokarst-hidden covert regard you as nothing but an outsider. An invader. A danger. A threat to their safety. An aruetii. 

And yet, no matter their levels of distrust, you are here, by the Alor’s request.

This is not the first time you have had to deal with unpleasant people— those that make the day seem unending or unyielding in its discomfort, or work with ones who question your intelligence or ability at every turn. The only surefire way to ease the inquietude of your cohorts is to employ the same tactics that you always have— by simply doing your best. With Din, this came naturally. As a pragmatic man, he values and trusts both competency and integrity. Showcasing both traits allowed him to ease his habitual suspicion of strangers and eventually, after enough time, foster a fond friendship between you. Perhaps utilizing the same tactic can render a twin outcome.

It can’t hurt to try, at least for Din’s sake.

You understand, at least to some degree, what the concept of clan and community mean to him. After the tragedy of Nevarro, you watched him silently mourn his many losses, not just of the individuals, but the purpose he held in providing for his people, his sense of worth intrinsically tied to the survival and prosperity of his tribe. Whilst those who are gone will never return, this new collective of Mando’ade could present Din with an opportunity to release his residual guilt and shame, resuming his role as a primary generator of income, sponsoring many Foundlings and adults alike for many years to come. In essence, Din could finally come home. 

Your place, for now it seems, is to make this arrangement with him, and them, work. To not instigate or incite any conflict, to not act out of turn or be discourteous. The way to the heart of your companion was through patience and compassion; and thus cooperation and communication is the way to solidarity with his comrades. Presenting yourself as an equal, as someone who has earned the respect and trust of one of their own can give them the freedom to do the same, without fear. And perhaps, one day, to care for you and about you just the same as Din does every day. 

—

The workshop is lively— abuzz and boisterous.   

The cavernous walls echo and amplify the clangs and thumps of the tools, muddling together with the chatter of the Mando’ade working together. In the mess of noise, you can distinctly make out their laughter, of all things— and with it, their camaraderie. At this moment, you can’t seem to recall a time in which you were that happy to be working on anything— undoubtedly, you’ve enjoyed some jobs and some people, but you can practically hear the smile in their voices hidden beneath their buy’ce. 

For a group of ‘fearsome, ruthless warriors’, this isn’t what I expected.

The workshop appears to double as a port for the strange variety of ships they have stored, ones they must have collected over time, perhaps as more Mando’ade arrived at this covert. Anything from speeders to small transports. Most of them don’t appear to be in the best condition— and by the looks of others, not entirely operational either. At the far end of the shop is the hangar door, which presumably leads to the outside, where two Mandos are working on a small ship— a CS fighter.  A small single-manned starfighter designed for combat, so customizable and versatile they’ve withstood the tests of time— most models still in existence are decades old. 

Another pre-Empire ship, I’m sensing a trend.

The two Mandos underneath the ship pay no mind to you and Din as you approach, instead focusing on trying to remove a part from the underbelly of the starfighter. Upon closer inspection, you take note of their appearances. One Mando adorned in armor painted a faded mauve— old paint, chipped on the thighs and chest piece; and the other a light blue, with gray accents detailing the armor throughout. The two of you watch them work for a minute before Din speaks, getting their attention. 

“Perhaps my friend could be of some aid.”

Their heads snap to you in unison, staring at you both for a moment. Mauve tilts her head, “Nice to see you too, Djarin.”

You give a slight chuckle at her response. Din can be the worst at introductions sometimes. You look back over to him, waiting for his own retort. Rather than greeting her, he nods his head once, and gestures towards the starfighter, “Me’bana? What’s wrong with it?” 

Mauve pulls herself out from underneath the ship, wiping the oil on her gloves on the unarmored sections of her pants, and leaning herself against the wing.“Engine keeps overheating— we don’t have enough parts to replace every cooling unit, and I haven’t figured out which ones are failing or why,” she says casually, crossing her arms. She nods at you, “What do you think?” 

You match her stance, crossing your arms, leaning your weight to one side, giving the question a moment of thought. “A ship as old as this? Check the ground conductors. The one’s on the Crest fry pretty often, especially with how manically he flies it.” In your peripherals you see Din turn his head to look at you, as if your jab at his pilotage genuinely offended him, but hearing a snicker from Mauve, he looks away.

Listening to your suggestion, Blue works to take apart the cooling unit they had already removed, working his way down towards the center. In less than a minute, he’s able to remove one of the culprits responsible for the malfunction— a very fried ground conductor. With a little, prideful smirk, you turn your head slightly to look back at Din, your eyes meeting his visor. He gives you a short nod, a silent approval of your correct assessment, his own unique way of telling you, Good work.  

Blue rises from his back to a seated position, setting down the tool he has in hand. He refuses to look at you, to address you— to even acknowledge you, instead staring at Din. “Copikla bal mirdala— I see why the Alor let you keep her.” 

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

If you’re dastard enough to undermine me, have the gall to do it in Basic, asshole. You want to conjure some sort of response to him, but ignoring his attempt at a crude remark may be the best course of action— to retaliate with your own insult will do nothing but escalate this dispute. As you have come to learn, anger is prone to rashness. And anger, whether it’s yours or Din’s— or both, is what he wants. And you won’t give him the satisfaction of having it. 

“Ne shab'rud'kaysh, vod.” 

Din, however, gives in to the bait. His voice irate— a warning, a threat. For a brief moment, there’s a passing worry about the possibility of Din igniting the flames of his gauntlet, a favorite weapon of his when he’s provoked. If anything, a knife fight feels more likely. The silence between the four of you somehow drowns out every other noise in the shop. The two of them continue to glare, both waiting for the other to make the first move. 

Your eyes watch back and forth between the two of them, waiting with baited breath. When Blue slowly raises both his hands in a mock surrender,“N'eparavu takisit, vod—“, and Din finally looks away from him, you know things have settled… for now.

An uncomfortable silence returns for a few moments, and Din is still not at ease. Mauve finally quips, “You saw it for yourself, go find another conductor.” She waves her hand, gesturing for Blue to leave. He rises, walking towards the other ships in the center of the shop— “You too, Djarin, find some.” She adds, casting Din away in the same manner she did with the other gotabor.  

Din hesitates. He doesn’t want to leave your side— and looks to you, with a silent question. You nod at him, an unspoken It’s okay— with a sigh, he complies with her command. “Fine,” he swiftly turns around, leaving the two of you alone. 

You watch them descend further into the shop, until they disappear from your sight. You’re left with the sounds of the distant chatter of the other Mando’ade, continuing to echo as it did when you first arrived. 

Well, that could have gone worse. 

Of the six Mando’ade you’ve met, three of them have not been hostile. It’s a start.

Continuing to stare off, Mauve speaks once more to get your attention. “Come help me check the rest of them.” 

Her request brings you back to the present moment, turning around to see her lying underneath the ship again, hands deep in its underbelly, loosening some things and pulling others. You kneel down, until you’re able to lower yourself to the ground completely, lying next to her. She hands you the cooling units as she pulls them out, and the two of you work to take them apart, sitting beside one another. 

“Jado doesn’t like you. But pay him no mind.” She states, matter-of-factly. 

Yeah, he looks like a ‘Jado.’ 

This revelation of Jado’s discontempt is unsurprising— and not unexpected. “He doesn’t know me,” you say. Asking a question of why would be inane, you already know the answer.   

“Well… none of us do. You’re an aruetii.” That moniker makes your stomach churn, but her lack of malice allows you to diminish the feeling of dejection quickly. “But that’s not inherently a bad thing. We’ll all get to know you soon enough.” 

…What? 

She continues, nonchalantly, “Djarin and the Alor trust you; so that’s all that matters. Aruetii or not.” 

You continue to work, letting a short-lived silence settle between you, before she speaks again. “I’m Odona. Clan Drii. Unfortunately, Jado’s a part of it too. My little vod.” 

You listen as her spiel drags on, leaning in to signal she has your attention, “We both usually work on the ships here, but he’s still pretty new at it— and I haven’t worked with many Pre-Imperial ships. When I heard that you were coming, after being on Djarin’s ancient me’sen?” She raises both her hands dramatically, “Briikase tuur. Happy day.” 

Listening to this Mandalorian monologue feels like an oxymoron— given the usual disposition of your companion, and the general taciturn reputation that all Mandalorians seem to hold amongst the outsiders. Regardless, her comment and theatrical gestures make you grin.

“Don’t tell me you’re another ‘strong and silent’ type… Djarin’s sulking is enough for me.” That makes you laugh. 

He does sulk a little, doesn’t he?

Smiling, you finally respond, “No. I think I’ve just grown accustomed to the sulking.” 

Odona snorts. “Sorry to disappoint you, but you’ll get none of that from me. You’ll replace Jado for now, we’ll likely get more accomplished that way.” You’re not disappointed, the change of pace will be interesting— a new opportunity to learn a lot from. You feel a little prideful, knowing that she’s pleased with your knowledge and ability. 

Before Odona can begin another monologue— and perhaps to disprove her claim of yours and Din’s shared hobby of sulking— you seize the chance to ask a question of your own. “I’m surprised by how many ships are here— but why are so many of them stripped out?”

Her hands stop, a pause in her tinkering as she ponders your enquiry. With a tilt of her head, she finally answers. “Whenever we get a new ship, it gets…” she hesitates for a moment, attempting to better articulate herself, searching for the precise word; “...triaged.” 

Interesting connotation.

 You suggest, “...As in, you decide whether to fix it, or scrap it for parts.”

“Exactly. We don’t have the resources to fix everything. It’s best to spend our time efficiently— focusing on the ones that will yield the greatest benefit in the long run.” The explanation is sound, yet Odona sees your underlying confusion still present. She asks you, “Why?”

Din would blow a fuse if someone tried to strip the Crest… again… Damn Jawas. 

You point in the direction Din and Jado wandered towards, “I can see why he landed the Crest over a mile away from here.” Odona chuckles at the light joke, and you continue, “But— people are… okay with their ship getting scrapped?” On the surface, the concept almost sounds absurd. For Din, the Crest is another home. Everything meticulously ordered, from his weapons to his food stocks. Despite the frequent abuse his ship endures, he works to ensure its continued functionality, it’s almost a second layer of armor, one he cares about greatly. 

“Well, no one has a personal ship— whenever any newcomers settle into the covert, any ships they once owned join the tribe’s fleet,” Odona explains. 

Your brows furrow. They just give away their ship to the covert?

She elaborates more. “I guess it could be difficult for someone outside of…” she gestures to your surroundings, “...this… to understand. We share things— me’dinui— do what we can to contribute to each other, to our community.” She shrugs, watching you, gauging your reaction. “A ship doesn’t mean anything… But supporting your aliit? Your family?” She pauses again, her voice passionate, “...It’s everything. All we truly have is each other.”

In a galaxy so wrought with selfishness, greed, and ‘survival of the fittest’— the thought of anyone doing anything for a collective good is almost inconceivable. And yet, hearing the emotion of her voice, listening to her speak of the tenets you see Din adhere to so unfailingly, the concept of unity seems more tangible, more apodictic.  

Setting down the tools you have in hand, you softly lament, “Sadly, I think I’ve become a little jaded to that idea...” you look at her, hoping to meet her eyes behind her visor, “...but I’m open to having my mind changed.”

You nod at her, and she does the same. In a familiar tone, Odona enounces, “Solus mhi oyacyi— this is the Way.” 

—

Upon Din’s and Jado’s return with the necessary parts, Din extends a hand to you to help you rise from the ground. 

As you stand, Odona quips “Making me do all the work with these?” 

And with Din’s reply— “We have other matters to attend to;” you make your way towards the exit, giving Odona a wave, and she returns with a nod. 

As you both close the heavy metal doors of the shop behind you, the hush of the cavern is jarring— the noise of the chaotic banter suddenly silenced. You’re only left with the sound of your blood whooshing in your head, and again, the persistent gelidity of the cave air forcing a chill up your spine. You exhale, removing your hands from the door, and slowly turn around to face Din. You stare at one another for a moment, before taking another breath. 

“Odona said you sulk too much,” you say, your voice light and soft, to break the quiet tension without dissettling the quiescent chamber.

He huffs at your teasing remark and tilts his head, “...It seemed like the two of you were getting along?” He matches your volume, inquiring gingerly.

There’s worry in his voice, you recognize. Lingering feelings of contrition for the unnecessary antagonism Jado had given you. It must be strange for him, you contemplate, this role reversal of sorts. Outside these walls, he’s a living embodiment of minatory. In his day-to-day, he has to make an effort to appear benign to sociable strangers— whilst you, on the other hand, are as regular as any other citizen in the galaxy— posing passivity is the goal, a fine balance between being amicable but guarded. But now, in his enclave, you have to think and behave as he does when he interacts with everyone else in the galaxy— an intriguing juxtaposition.  

You smile, “Yes, she’s interesting...she reminds me of Peli.” That’s not all he wants to know. It’s another tacit question, a chance to tell him how you feel without him having to ask. You take a step closer, letting your eyes meet his visor, “She also assured me that continuing to ignore her brother’s jibes is the best course of action.”

He sighs, and his shoulders drop. “I told him not to do it again.”

Din isn’t good with words. He’s curt, sometimes to the point of being tactless. On Sorgan, when faced with the obligation of informing the villagers of their predicament— Bad news, you can’t live here anymore— his delivery, at best, was uncouth. Nice bedside manner— Cara had told him, which earned a chuckle from you. He usually thrives more in one-on-one interactions; he can be amenable— kind, even. He ensures to give people thanks when necessary, listens to others without interruption; and attempts to be a calm presence, especially in times of turmoil.

Where he excels, however, are in his actions. Whether it’s the softer things— letting the Child grip his finger for comfort, a gentle hand to help you;  or the more intense things— fighting his way through an army of Imperials to ensure the safety of his aliit, Din shows his care through his actions. He didn’t protect you from the enmity of his cohort because he thought you were incapable of vying against another Mando’ade. He wasn’t attempting to patronize you— but rather displaying his respect, to not stand idly by when someone is attempting to ostracize you. 

His care is a reverent kind, one he conveys with both his body and his mind, a message given with nary a word spoken.

You stare into him once more, hoping to meet his eyes. You grin, and give a soft “Thank you.” 

He doesn’t respond, he simply nods.

You gaze at one another for a few moments, before you nod your head to the side, gesturing to him to start walking; just as he did to you the day prior. Together, you walk beside each other through the various halls and passageways— working to build a mental map of the cave system— until you reach the medbay. 

It’s a small room, one equipt to host only a few residents. Along the chamber walls are privacy shields— drawn to create different spaces for individual patients. Towards the back are tall shelves of med supplies— anything from syringes and needles, blood tubes, to disinfectants, gauze, and kits for intravenous fluids— supplies that would allow for basic blood tests, and treating minor to moderate wounds. Near the entrance sits another Mando, the baar’ur— their armor a deep green with teal sigils along the side of their buy’ce; holo pad in hand, seemingly deep in focus. 

The sounds of your footsteps pull her attention. “Ah, su cuy'gar, Djarin, it’s been a while. How’s your ik’aad?” 

He extends a hand for her to grasp, pulling her from the ground. “Fine. He’s with the other ade.”

She looks at you, “Jatne vod, I’ve been waiting for you to arrive.” 

“I hope I can assist.” You give her your name, she replies with her own; Mavis. 

She sighs, exasperated. She points to the first room, “One of the idiot cabure just showed up for the third time in two weeks, and…” She stops, and takes a deep breath, trying to ease her agitation, “... and I don’t want to deal with him again.” She holds the holopad out for you to take, “Can you handle this for me?”

Reading through her notes, you skim over some of the details.

G: He is in no apparent distress. He is alert and oriented

S: No open fracture or bony abnormality

E: Laceration to left shoulder, 15cm x 1 cm, simple, shallow

A simple laceration… “No sutures or staples?” You ask.

“No. Just use a tissue adhesive— I would have just made him do it himself; but he can’t reach it.” Her annoyance seeps through her voice again, “So, don’t waste any bacta on that,” she replies, pointedly. She mumbles under her breath, shaking her head, “Kad knows that utreekov will be back here next week.” She looks at Din, who gives her a sympathetic shrug. 

She must be the only medic here. 

You nod in understanding, “...I’ll take care of him, Mavis.” You turn around to walk towards the room, reading through the rest of her notes. Din and the baar’ur carry on in conversation as you approach the line of privacy shades.

Standing before the first room, you use the corner of the holo pad to tap upon the pole holding the curtain— a sound to alert the patient of your arrival, “Can I come in?” you ask.

A moment of silence greets you, before a deep voice answers “...Sure.”

Slowly drawing back the curtain just wide enough to allow you entry, you step in. 

A familiar Mando sits before you. The idiot cabur.

The same idiot cabur you met yesterday— the very one that glowered into your karking soul like he craved nothing more than to break you in half. The sight of him makes your stomach sink— dread coursing through your bones, your nerves firing to prepare for his inevitable attack— skin electric, heart racing, blood cold. 

You’re not safe.

You breathe, trying to will your voice to return once more. Taking a moment, your eyes scan up and down his form— assessing his position. He’s slouched, sitting atop the bed, one leg tucked underneath the other, a hand pressed against the injured shoulder. His pauldrons and chest piece sit beside him, his shirt half pulled over his form, revealing the nasty gash across his shoulder blade. Your eyes finally meet his visor— almost hoping to find his own beneath it, only to greet the same abyss that bore into you upon your first meeting. 

Breathe. You nod at him, feigning nonchalance, “What happened?”

He observes you in return, tilting his head. 

His gaze, though not predatory, reveals his intrigue. You’re enigmatic, oracular— he’s studying you, fixated on your features; searching for the apologues and adages that have sculpted your spirit— the flame of your psyche he yearns to succumb to. For a moment, he too is breathless, lost in the sea of your presence, desperate for a mast to secure himself to. He yields, finally looking away from you, to bring his attention to his injured shoulder.  

He considers his response, and answers your question; almost timid, but with an obvious lightness to his voice. “I— uh… bravely protected the covert from an invader.” 

You blink, and furrow your brows in confusion. You slowly shake your head at him. “No.” You reply, unconvinced. “Try again.”

He straightens his posture, looking at you once more. After another pause, he argues his second retelling of events. “Okay… again, I bravely rescued a Foundling lost in one of the Back Caves,” his voice less shy, but still chary.

His witticism begins to thaw the icy tension between you, reforming to liquescent diffidence— your pulse easing back to its restful tempo, the slight tremor of your hands gradually ceasing. You stride towards him, equanimous and assured, until you’re close enough to inspect his injury. A nasty gash, skin frayed along the edges, with smaller abrasions surrounding it— the beginnings of a bruise coloring the area. Dust and tiny shards of lava rock are settled on the skin throughout, peppering the wound. It looks painful.

Your eyes meet his hidden ones, desperate to conceal your amused grin he’s given you, “No,” you challenge, an insincere jest, “...last chance.”

He chortles, looking away again, almost bashful. “I fell,” he responds, resolute. “In the Back Caves… Lost my footing on an unsteady rock, and landed on a sharper one.” His coyish inflection shifting to one aflutter— in a moment of confidence, he returns his gaze to you, illuminated by your amused expression, having caught on to his jocular antics. 

You nod, and try to hide your simper, “That sounds right.” You gesture to his shoulder, “May I?”

“Please.” He moves slowly, turning slightly, allowing you easier access to his shoulder.  

With the wound in full view, you work to treat him.  

It only takes but a few minutes to clean the area, the two of you spend that time in silence. He fidgets, not in a way that indicates he’s in pain— but rather that he’s unnerved, nervous, even mousy. This massive Mando’ad sits beside you with such tension in his form, as though he’s bracing for an impact; on the precipice of the inchoate attack— waiting for the aruetii to spit their vitriol, to exploit his vulnerable position and leave him more scathed than when he arrived.  

With your hands gently pressing over his shoulder blade, sealing the adhesive in place; he releases a long held breath, the anticipated aggression absent. The tautness of his muscles gives way, highlighting their definition across his back as he decompresses. Stop looking. His heat radiating into your palms, a warmth you’ve been starved of since entering this frore catacomb, you’re reluctant to pull away— longing to linger in the intimacy of this untrodden amity that has just scarcely begun. 

Slowly, you will yourself to retreat, discarding the soiled gauze and removing your disposable gloves. “Does the brave cabur have any other battle wounds?” You tease, disrupting the prolonged silence.

“No, ma’am,” his tone reveleaving the alacarious smirk hidden behind his buy’ce. As you turn away, he maneuvers his arm back into his shirt. He continues, “...thank you. Vor entye.” 

You look back to him and nod, “Of course.” 

Just as the silence settles again, and you attempt to leave, he recommences. “Before you go…” He waits for you to stop, “I was hoping to speak with you?” His inflection returns to one of timidness again; but he sits straighter, his legs wide and relaxed, his hands resting over his thighs. Even without his armor, his broad form fills the space around him. Don’t ogle. “We didn’t get to talk much yesterday.”

Difficult to chat when you think you’re about to die. “No, we didn’t.”

His voice turns gentle, almost placating, as if he heard your thought. “I’m Ikarus, a guardsman for the covert. The other cabur was Sabe.” He breathes, tilts his head, fidgets like he’s considering every word before he says it. “It’s our duty… to ensure the safety of everyone here. Including you.”

You’re frozen in place, refusing to cross the threshold to him again, despite his words wanting you to ease yourself closer.

“I—” the words are trapped in his throat, “I failed that duty yesterday. I failed you.” 

He pauses, looking down to the floor, gathering his thoughts once more. “I’ve been here a long time. We’re very careful who we allow in here. Having a new Foundling and an outsider come in like this is unusual, to say the least.” 

He looks to your face, meeting your eyes, “But this… inordinate circumstance… doesn’t give me the right to scare you. Being leered at by a giant, armed, faceless stranger should not have been your first impression of us… of me.” 

His guilt bleeds into his speech, a sadness overcoming him. “I’m sorry.”  For a moment, Ikarus envisions you, the terror in your eyes upon your first meeting, your protectiveness of the Child, of Djarin shielding you from his ravening presence, keeping you away from him. “Ni ceta, I’m sorry.” 

You stare at him, speechless, in awe of his confession. 

Ni ceta. I kneel. 

A rare, groveling apology you had only heard once before— in an unfortunate situation with Din that left you both upset— he found the Basic phrase I’m sorry could not express his attrition wholly. He had explained the Mando’a words to you; their connotation, their significance. Kneeling, you learned, was one of the highest forms of respect to another Mando’ade— not only a display of humility, but reverence, obedience; and at certain times, even submission. Whilst his genuflect never came, his declaration was enough for you both to reconcile. 

But the person before you is not Din Djarin.

Having a man like him brought to his knees would be a sight to behold. 

In a moment of boldness, you slowly step towards him— soft on your feet— until you stand a mere meter apart, never looking away from where you presume his eyes to be. In a quiet, demulcent tone— barely above a whisper; before you can even think to reconsider your words, you ask him, “Are you going to kneel, Ikarus?”

Thence, he is in free fall. Your emollient voice and temerarious inquiry luring him into the vast unknown of you— succumbing to the pull of your orbit, the fire of your spirit. In an instant, his body relaxes— his eyes bore into yours, as he slowly rises from the medical bed to his full height, before bending the knee to kneel below you. After a moment, he extends his hand for you to grasp. Whence his hand grips yours, he answers your question in kind; “Ni ven’ceta par gar ratiin.”

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[mandoloriancookie]

I got so excited. I thought rough day was being updated. No, it was tumbler with old post on my news feed.

#rough day #mandolorian #why

[mandoloriancookie]

Omg. I need a a part two.

comeuppance | qz!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader summary: [post outbreak] when your recklessness causes an arms deal to go south, joel makes sure you regret it. warnings: (18+ mdni) qz!joel, age gap (late 20s/early 50s), written with hbo!joel in mind but with game!joel lore, guns, mentioned executions, misogynistic names outside (and in!) a sexual context, canon-typical violence as in murder (joel kills a soldier 'on-screen'), reader is a little shit but joel is worse, darkish & dubcon, spanking as a punishment, gunplay, attempted boot humping, degradation, humiliation, one kick to the cunt, mean!joel, orgasm denial [no use of y/n] word count: 2.7k a/n: this is my (admittedly late) submission for @iamasaddie's writing challenge 2.0! my prompt was 'you can't hide forever'. the genre was technically dark but joel himself isn't scarily dark here. thank you so much to aly for, once again, bringing this fandom together with her challenges. it's a steep task but she does a great job every time! and even more thanks to @joelsdagger and @lovesickonmybed for helping me brainstorm! (i have half of a brain without my wonderfully creative friends).

It only takes one deal gone south to fuck everything up.

You know the compass is already ticking that way the moment you and Joel, your longtime smuggling partner, enter the abandoned warehouse. Much like everything else in the Boston QZ, it’s falling apart. The corrugated metal walls are pitted with rust, and old blood is caked all over the floors. In another life, it might’ve been a slaughterhouse, but there’s no real way of knowing. It’s been long enough that any signage has deteriorated. The building’s state of decay, however, isn’t what messes things up.

It’s the singular man that walks in from the opposite side of the atrium.

FEDRA’s favorite executioner. Slitted eyes far apart, thinned out lips, and graying black hair. Rarely seen away from the gallows, only recognizable to you from all of the nightmares you’ve had of his face being the last you see.

If it were drugs, you’d think nothing of it. FEDRA soldiers buy quietly from you all of the time – but they have no need for guns that they don’t already have.

Joel steps forward, merchandise in the duffel bag over his shoulder, none the wiser. A knot ties itself in the base of your throat. You’re too busy trying to figure out what to do, what to do, what to do that you barely even realize that the soldier has a gun aimed right between your eyes until you’re looking right down the barrel.

Your hand jerks to your holster, drawing your pistol in one swipe.

“Drop your fucking gun!” he barks in your direction. It clatters out of your hands. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Your hands fly up as you take a step back, nearly stumbling into a nearby crate. “Joel Miller and his bitch,” the man sneers. “What a lucky find. You two have quite the bounty on your heads.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Joel says, face completely blank.

“Easy for you to say,” the guard says with a nagging smirk. “Your little cunt here already did. Pretty fucking dumb not to check who you’re selling your merchandise to, huh?”

Joel tenses, ultimately huffing through his nose. “Can we get this over with?”

“I’ll make it easy, Miller. Come with me alive so I get paid, or come with me dead so I still get paid.”

Joel’s fingers twitch behind his back, and after almost three years of working with him, it’s impossible not to pick up on the subtext. Keep him busy. His hand is already reaching for the revolver in his back pocket.

“Turn the other way. I can make this worth your time,” you say. “But you’re lucky if those sons of bitches you work for even offer you half the reward they’ve posted for us. Dragging the bodies from Area 5 to the closest checkpoint… you’d have your work cut out for you.”

“Yeah fucking right,” he spits. “You two have been running around free for too damn long. Causing too much trouble. Not anymo–”

The man’s mouth freezes around the words by the time the bullet soars throat the canvas fabric of Joel’s duffel bag and through the man’s jugular. The soldier’s hands claw for his throat while he gargles on the blood as he begins the descent to the ground. New blood, still pumping directionless from the split artery, joins the old.

Much like him, where he’s slumping against the ground, chest moving until the very end, your hands clutch at your own throat. “We need to go,” you say, knowing the rest of FEDRA will come looking for the firefight at any second now. Joel doesn’t move. “Joel!” You reach out to tug his sleeve, but he doesn’t react. “Jesus– move!”

Joel turns to face you, gun still hanging from his hand. His fingers flex around the grip. “What the hell were you thinkin’, little girl?” You can hear his breathing, amplified from how close he is to you. His once inexpressive face is now red, lips curled, skin tight like a crushed soda can. 

“I– what?”

“Not vettin’ your buyers. First fuckin’ thing I told you all them years ago, wasn’t it? Gotta check so you don’t sell shit to the wrong guy, yeah?” He stalks closer to you – you stumble back.

Not vetting the now dead executioner, whose blood is currently creeping up to the soles of your boots. Your mistake, yes, a potentially catastrophic one that you’ll definitely never make again after this, but he’d been on your ass about finding buyers and after an entire day of burning bodies, the last thing you wanted to do was go asking around about the ‘John’ in search of guns that you’d talked to over the radio tower.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Joel finally jerks his sleeve away from your grip. Your hand falls slack by your side, burning from his fire stoker touch. “And you oughta count your fuckin’ blessings for that. Dumbfuck of a girl, gonna get me killed,” he spits. Spittle flies across your neck. 

You flinch – and not because you’re scared. You’ve never seen him like this before. You hear noise in the distance, the moving of FEDRA trucks, no doubt. “Joel! We can do this later – we need to fucking go–”

“Then you better start running,” he says gruffly.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You sprint out of the atrium, cursing as your bloodied soles carve tracks behind you. A stack of crates blocks the door, which you vault over and shimmy your way through the broken glass panel. The hallway ahead of you is dark, and you have no idea where the fuck you’re going, only that you can’t stop. Each impact of your foot on the ground is like being struck by lightning, carbonating the racing blood pumping through your body. More glass crunches behind you, and a shock of terror pierces you when you hear Joel’s snarls filling the corridor.

There’s a metal cart in your way, which you send whirling in Joel’s direction. He grunts, presumably hitting him in the stomach before it goes clattering on the ground. You make the most of the diversion, hurtling forward and lurching through a cracked door.

Dead fucking end.

An office, by the looks of it. Desks all over the place, leftover tasks still pinned on cork boards from outbreak day, chairs on their sides. You hear Joel huffing and puffing behind you, and fear forks through you. You fall to your hands and knees, crawling underneath the labyrinth of desks and tucking yourself against a wall, carpet-burned hand to your mouth to muffle your breathing. Your chest avalanches with every single breath.

“You ain’t off the hook,” Joel says, voice getting closer with every word. You can hear the thump of his boots against the carpet. See the spread of his shadow roaming across the wall. You squint through the seam of two desks. He's looking over his shoulder when you haul yourself across the room to the next closest desk.

You look around for anything that might get you out of this long enough to slip back out of the door. If you can make it back to the apartment, maybe he can cool off on his own walk back. You reach up for a stapler and take a brief second to peek over a filing cabinet before flinging it against the wall. It snaps open, spilling decades old staples all over the floor.

“Only a clicker’s fallin’ for that,” he tuts at you. His boots land on the floor again, one, two, three steps closer to you. You wince, balling your hands into fists. 

All you can hear is the thrashing of your own heart. You scooch away from the desk – maybe if you throw something small at him, like a pack of sticky notes, it’ll be enough to abduct his attention long enough for you to slip by–

“You can’t hide forever,” Joel goddamn coos at you. You see him bending at the waist, scoping out the undersides of desks, seeking you out–

You crawl out from under the desk and book it to the door.

Stupid. Fucking. Idea.

Joel hauls you back by the belt loop, laughing as you cry out. You try squirming away, kicking at him, but his other arm wraps around your torso. It hits you then that you have no idea what he might do to you. You’ve trusted him with your life before, but what would he do when you risked his? You’d always been too scared to find out. He spins you, slamming you over the desk. You cry out as your chest meets the wood. His hand drags your wrists together, pinning them at the small of your back.

“Let me – the fuck– go!” you yell at him, trying to bend your elbow at the right angle to nail him in the chest.

He tightens his grip so much that you can barely move an inch. “Made your fuckin’ bed, gotta lie in it, sweetheart,” he tuts, shaking his head at you. His hand grazes over your ass, and you stiffen as he looms over you. He is just a man. Your mind spins to the worst-case scenario. No, no, no, no–

“How about an… old-fashioned corporal punishment to set ya straight?” Within the next second, he’s yanking your jeans down your thighs.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Joel–” you exhale, breath shuddery. “Knock it off–”

“No panties? I was gonna be nice and spank ya over them…” Joel frowns at you. “Poor baby. ‘S gonna sting real bad.”

You snap at him, “What, you want me to go to the local QZ Victoria’s Secret?”

Joel swats, hard, across your asscheek.

You’ve seen how intense Joel’s brute strength can be. You’ve just never been on the receiving end of it. A cry pushes out of your throat, and you hunch over the desk as you struggle helplessly against Joel. Tears spring at your eyes.

Mercifully, Joel runs his calloused palm over the smarting skin. “Shh, shh, shh, shh. ‘S okay, Jus’ gotta teach ya a lesson. Make sure it sticks.” He strokes the nape of your neck as you whimper into the desk.

You tense up in preparation for the second hit, but, if anything, it just makes the impact worse. It prickles your other cheek, leaving your knees shaky. And God help you, your clit twitches. Twitches. Your thighs are already heating up, and you can’t help but squirm in a good way underneath Joel. A single tear slips over your waterline, and you have to tilt your head into the shoulder of your shirt to wipe it off. You don’t want him to see you weak – not that weak.

The next spank makes him grunt from how hard he swings his palm into your backside. “Joel!” you shout, pain nearly splitting you in two. Your feet raise off of the ground as you prop yourself up on the desk, kicking uselessly at his shins. All he does is chuckle at you.

Horror sinks like a cinderblock in your stomach when you realize that your hole, leaking slick, is practically fucking winking at him. You thank the darkness. It’s about the only good thing about this place.

“You don’t like that?” he mock-pouts at you. It’s enough to make you throb. The opposite, you’d say if you could.

A series of spanks follows, but at least these are lighter, and in rapid succession. Still, you jerk with each impact, squirming so that your fingers dance in his grip. “Stupid little girl. Thought you could sell our shit to a FEDRA bitch and get off scot-free? Really thought you could get away from me, huh?”

You try clamming up, desperately attempting to close your legs together. You squeeze your thighs together, relieved at the pressure – and then you hear a resounding click behind you.

You still.

Joel’s gun, still fucking hot from the bullet it’d fired right into the executioner’s throat, traces up the small of your back… all the way to your throat. “Could put one right here,” Joel whispers, more to himself than you. “Show ya what happens to girls that don’t follow orders.” He jams it into your skin, and you hiss at the pain, at the bruise it’s sure to leave. And in spite of it all, you fucking gush. God, you’re fucked up.

He wouldn’t kill you – he needs you more than you need him. But common sense isn’t enough to prevent the thrill, the arousal smiting your body from head to toe.

“I’ll reconsider if ya give it a kiss.” He nudges the barrel carefully against your lips and you stop breathing for a second, maybe two. “Go on. Give it some lovin’. Suck it like a cock. I know you’re good at it. Hear all the guys you bring over.”

You whimper at the thought of Joel listening to you getting your hook ups off – at the thought of him fisting his own cock while he listens. Obediently, you part your lips, slowly, ever so slowly, taking the gun down your throat. It fills your mouth up in such a strange way – all hard edges. It’d be freezing cold if not for the fact that it’s a weapon of death, a scythe in its own way. One press of the trigger, and you’d be just like the guard. You suck even harder at it, eyes rolling back in your skull. Your thighs twitch, stripes of slick running down your thighs. 

Joel reaches between your legs, grabbing at the meat of your inner thigh to spread you open. Instead, he gets a handful of the arousal that’s been pooling between your legs since he first bent you over the desk.

You freeze, pausing your ministrations on the pistol. He himself freezes before he drags his hips over your folds. His finger pads hover over your swollen clit before he properly rubs you once, and then twice. Your hips cant into the closest thing – his hand.

Joel makes a disgusted noise and swats your leaking pussy before shoving you forward and stepping back. You’re panting, properly fucked out even though he’d barely touched you. Cross-eyed, tongue hanging out, face hot. He looks you up and down, brows furrowing with revulsion. “Horny fuckin’ bitch. Creamin’ all over me. That long since you got action that a spankin’ and a gun in your mouth is all it takes to get you riled up? Pathetic.” He shoves the gun back in his pocket, still shining with your saliva.

He wipes your wetness all over your leg, grabs the back of your collar, and drags you to the floor in one foul swoop. You fall on your hands and knees again, ass still stinging from his treatment, lightheaded from how needy you are. Even his brutal treatment makes you whimper. 

You reach for his calf, pulling yourself up to brace your dripping cunt against his boot. You rut against it, not even fully cognizant of your movements as you roll your hips, praying that he lets you have this if nothing else. Your orgasm, wetting his boot thoroughly. Your scent, clinging to him on the walk back to the apartment. You buck into the boot, moaning as the toe bumps against your clit. It might be enough, if you could just do it one more time–

Joel tears his shoe out from underneath you, face pinched with aversion. “No!” you cry, still grabbing for his calf. You fall onto your back, legs spread and panting. Your ass needles from his spanking. The ceiling tiles spin above you. 

The same toe you’d been humping kicks into your cunt, and you yelp, curling in on yourself. Another tear slides down your burning cheek as you reach down to cup your sore pussy. Even that pressure feels like touching a live wire. 

Joel looks down at his shining boot and makes a disgusted noise. “Does humiliatin’ yourself always get ya dicked down?” 

He turns around, already walking away from you without a care in the world. The gun grip pokes out of his pocket, taunting you.

“Pull your goddamn pants up and get a move on. Curfew’s soon.”

[mandoloriancookie]

To The Flame Masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Series tags/warnings: smut, angst, fluff in the beginning, piv sex, rough sex, oral sex, non-canon compliant, eventual dark!javi, abuse, manipulation, age gap, eventual marriage, eventual pregnancy, rape, noncon, baby trapping (kind of), breeding kink, dubcon, kinda slowburn, (MORE SPECIFIC WARNINGS WILL BE POSTED WITH THE CHAPTERS)

Series description: It doesn't take much for you to fall in love with the objectively perfect, older man from your home town. He easily sweeps you off your feet, and helps you to remember what happiness feels like until you think he's truly all you'll ever need in life. What happens though, once he tethers you down and starts to change before you have a chance to realize what's happening?

A/N: PLEASE KEEP IN MIND that this series is going to seem a bit rushed at first. Yes, it is a slow burn, but in the way that we will creep into darker territory as we progress. The first chapters are going to bounce around a bit and skip some interactions, but please trust that it will start to slow down once we get to the main chunk of the story. Please just be patient with me and keep an open mind! This is set around the same time as the show!

All indentions mark in-between drabbles!

Chapter one (2.5k)

Chapter two (3.5k)

Chapter three (3.3k)

Chapter four (2.3k)

Chapter five (2.5k)

Chapter six (2.6k)

Dream house drabble (652)

Chapter seven (3.1k)

Chapter eight (3k)

Chapter nine (2.1k)

Chapter ten (2.8k)

Chapter eleven (3.9k)

Chapter twelve (2.6k)

Chapter thirteen

[mandoloriancookie]

all I did was what I had to - part three

all I did was what I had to miniseries

part three: we can't both become the same

series masterlist | part one | part two | part three

dark!raider/hunter!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Joel realizes he never finished teaching you a lesson. (Takes place after part two but before part one.)

Warnings: dark, dub-con, dead dove do not eat, dark!Joel/raider!Joel comes with his own warning, bathroom control, watersports (yes again. much milder this time), d/s dynamics if you squint but not SCC/RACK/etc compliant, humiliation, degradation, praise kink, Joel is mean, spit play, vaginal sex

also on ao3

“Um, Joel?”

“Yeah?” he looks up from where he’s cleaning dirt from under his nails with the tip of his switchblade.

“I think the door’s stuck. Can I go around, please?” The bathroom is situated between your room and Joel’s, with entrances from both bedrooms. But obviously, you couldn’t just leave.

The request was a courtesy, an appeal to his penchant for politeness heldover from Southern hospitality before the world fell to shit. You were already moving to the door.

“No.”

You startle, turning on your heel to look at him. Sometimes, he likes to make these jokes that aren’t really funny to anyone but him, so you have to check. But there’s no smirk, no glint in his dark eyes.

“Oh, um. Okay. Can you help me with the door, please?”

“Ain’t stuck. It’s locked.” He’s gone back to his nails, but when you don’t respond right away, he peers up at you from his perch on the bed. Now there’s the hint of a smirk, the tiniest quirk of his lips in one corner.

Okay, you can do this. You’ve walked into a trap, somehow, but you need to figure out what you did wrong and see if you can make amends. “I’m sorry,” you blurt too quickly. With nowhere to go but forward, you sink to your knees in front of him.

“Oh yeah?” he leans forward, elbows on his knees, and draws the blunt edge of the switchblade down your cheek, the smirk spreading as you shudder. “What’re ya sorry for?”

“I—um—”

“Um—um,” he mocks, dragging the blade back up. “See, ‘cause this wasn’t a punishment. But now ya got me thinkin’ you’ve done something bad.”

Your bottom lip trembles. “I don’t know, I just—”

“Ya just what? Apologized for nothin’? You’re gonna make me think you only say sorry to get out of trouble, instead of meanin' it.”

You open your mouth but have nothing to say. Nothing to defend yourself by. So, instead, you purse your lips back together and try not to cry.

“C’mon now,” he says. “What’re you so afraid of? I ain’t ever hurt ya.”

It’s true. At least, as far as punishments go. He’s spanked you or smacked you around a little when he gets rough during sex, when he needs a little extra stress relief, but he’s never raised a hand against you in anger. He doesn’t need to.

At first, the humiliation and degradation were intense when you misbehaved. But you were one of those meek people pleasers your whole life, a teacher’s pet, tripping over your own feet in the rush to make someone else happy. It was how you ended up married to Noah, though you did tell him no. You told him no over and over up until the point where Joel made putty from his face.

And maybe that was it. Maybe, deep down, you were just grateful that Joel didn’t hurt you, didn’t starve you, didn’t leave you without water or medical attention. Instead, you were haunted by genuine guilt when you disappointed him. He protected you, provided everything you needed and more, and you thanked him with this disrespect?

He’s watching you with narrowed eyes, watching as yours dart back and forth while you scramble to catch up.

You look up to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Joel. I panicked. I didn’t want to have done anything to upset you.”

He softens a little and pulls the blade away, folding it and slipping it into his pocket. He replaces it with his warm palm against your cheek. “I know, sweetheart. You’re always tryin’ to be my good girl. You gotta understand, it just ain’t possible all the time. That’s what I’m here for. To help ya.”

Oh no. You have direly misunderstood the situation. You squirm a little, both from nerves and from the pressure the position puts on your full bladder.

It seems to remind him why you ended up there in the first place. He gives your cheek a couple firm pats and sits up. “I’ve done you a disservice, darlin’.”

Oh no. You dig your fingers into your kneecaps to keep your breathing steady.

“You remember when we had that little incident, and I had to teach ya a lesson in that fuckin’ Burger King?”

You nod. Of course you remember. That was the thing about Joel’s “lessons.” They were always effective.

“Well, I was thinkin’ about it, and realized I only gave you half the lesson.” He shakes his head.

All at once, you recognize what you’ve been missing all day. His suggestion that you take a day to relax together and stay in bed. How he’s only used your mouth all day. How he’s been handing you bottle after bottle of water. It was all so casual, so easy to lose track of as you played cards and read.

He’d even stopped you mid-blowjob to offer you a drink.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “I’m going to make it up to you. Get your shoes on.”

You whimper but obey. As you always have, as you always will. Joel’s command is your north star in this wretched world.

He holds out his other jacket, the patched-up brown corduroy cradling you as you slip it on. You let yourself tune out the rest of the world and soak up the spice and musk of him that lingers in the lining. The heft of it on your shoulders reminds you that no matter what he’s about to put you through, you’ll come out the other side worthier of his tender care.

He unlocks the bedroom door after sliding into his own coat and looks at you for a moment. You burrow into the coat but give him a soft smile, and so he takes your hand in his and leads you through the hall, down the stairs, and outside the house.

It’s dark. You hadn’t realized it was so late. The moon is heavy, nearly full, and looming over the woods. A light dusting of snow has settled on the late fallen leaves, muffling the crunch under your boots.

He doesn’t take you far, not willing to risk Infected over a simple lesson. Just far enough into the thicket that you can barely see the house through the thick trunks of the trees, but still within the perimeter.

He lets go of your hand and takes your chin in his. “You gonna be good?” he asks gruffly.

“I’ll be good,” you whisper, the puff of your words spiraling to dissipate in his scruff.

“Alright. On your knees.”

The damp seeps in as soon as you’re on the ground, knees of your jeans soaked in snow and mud. You swallow hard as he looks down at you.

“Me first,” he says, pulling down his fly and fishing his cock out of his boxers.

You tense up and hold still, but he doesn’t demand anything from you, not even your focus, as he stands next to you, facing the other way, and relieves himself. You don’t watch, but you’re forced to listen, anyway. It’s not so bad.

When he’s zipped back up, he scrubs the sleeve of his jacket across his face and squints down at you. “Now you, sweetheart.”

“What?” You’re not confused by the demand but by how you’re expected to follow it like this. On your knees, fully clothed.

“It’s freezin’, baby, hurry up.”

“Can I take my pants off?”

“No, didn’t ya just hear me? I need that pussy to stay warm for me, can’t stick my dick in a fuckin’ freezer. Just hurry up and piss so we can go inside.”

You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. There’s no getting around this, and even if you tried to wait him out from the cold, you know your aching bladder will lose the standoff. You whimper and look up at him with wet eyes.

“You can do it,” he murmurs. “I spent all day helpin’ ya get ready.”

The message is clear. You ball your hands into fists and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to relax enough to let go. You don’t let out your breath until your lungs burn.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Please, what? You want some help?”

You nod, eyes still shut tight, though you’re uncertain how exactly he plans to help. He kneels on the ground behind you and wraps his arms around your hips, one hand folded over a fist like he’s about to attempt the Heimlich maneuver.

“You ready?” His breath is hot against your neck. He’s pressed firmly behind you, and you’re not really surprised to feel him half-hard where his crotch meets your back. You bite your lip and nod.

He pulls his hands back, unrelenting pressure notched right at the top of your pelvis. It’s too much, and he doesn’t let up, increasing the force behind his grip until your body fails you (or saves you) and you begin to leak. You burst into tears.

“That’s it, good girl,” he says, pressing his lips against your neck to lick and bite. “Let it all out, sweetheart.”

You can’t stop once it’s started, and your eyes burn as the heat spreads down your legs, soaking your jeans. The sharp breeze turns it nearly to ice, stiffening the denim and sending your teeth chattering.

When he’s satisfied, he stands up, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up.”

He leads you back, though your cheeks burn as he brings you through the main level to the staircase. You’re sure the handful of hunters scattered through the living room are looking; it’s not often they see you outside. If they notice anything, which they surely must, they don’t say a word.

Joel crowds you into the bathroom and starts the shower. Hot water doesn’t last long, so he strips you both of your clothes and corrals you into the tub, drawing the curtain behind him.

You give yourself a quick, perfunctory scrub before rubbing between your legs and down your thighs until the rough sponge leaves you raw. You lather your hands with the bar of soap, and he lets you wash his hair.

The steam of the shower has warmed your bodies, and you’re slick where you press together in the tiny space. You run your hands through his locks, teasing the ends into curls and gently massaging his scalp with your nails. He groans, eyes closed, and obliges you when you tip his head back under the spray to rinse.

Once upon a time, you think this may have been when people would fuck in the shower. Way back when the hot water lasted more than six minutes and would soothe your sore muscles as you indulged.

Neither of you are keen to try it now, knowing the pressure will wane and the spray will sputter any moment, heralding the oncoming frigid blast. You’re out and dry a solid minute before it would have happened.

His eyes are heavy where they fall on your breasts, trailing over your stomach and down your legs. When he raises them to your face, they’re dark and sharp. You don’t even bother picking up your clothes, instead shifting so you’re facing him straight on when he steps forward to capture you in a ferocious kiss.

He pushes you back out the bathroom door with his momentum, hands on your waist guiding you to the edge of the bed. When you back into it, you immediately move up the mattress, widening your hips and making room for him between them.

He slides a finger through your folds and brings it up to his pleased grin, sucking it clean. He leans down to kiss you again, licking into your mouth to share the taste of your tang from his tongue. You moan, arching a little off the mattress to meet him.

He doesn’t bother to spread you open, opting instead to push the tip in until it splits you slowly, then shove the rest of the way inside. He swallows your cries like they alone could sustain him. When he sets a steady pace, he pulls back a little to study your face.

His brow is furrowed, even as his lips part in a pant from the tight grip of your cunt. “You’d let me do anything to ya, wouldn’t ya?” He watches your features, weighing your honesty as you nod.

“Yeah,” you gasp. “Anything.”

“Shit.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he growls.

You do, just the way he likes, with your tongue out. He works his jaw and then spits right on your tongue.

���Swallow it, sweetheart.” He’s sneering, lip twitching like it wants to split into a grin. When you swallow it down and open your mouth to show him, it slips into a satisfied smirk instead. “Yeah, you’re all mine, aren’t ya?”

You nod, whining. You’re too close to feel the humiliation, instead waiting with your mouth open to see if he’ll do it again.

He does. But this time, after you swallow, he covers your mouth with his hand before picking up the pace, slamming hard enough that you scoot up the mattress a little with each thrust. He grips the headboard with his other hand so you don’t slam your head into it.

His hand muffles your cry as you cum again, and he pulls out, yanking you forward. You scramble to meet him halfway, and he fills your mouth. You hold it open, cum pooling in your throat.

He groans. “Swallow,” he says through heaving breaths as he comes down from his high. “That’s a good girl.”

It’s nearly dawn, now. He lets you up to use the bathroom, smirking at the hesitant way you ask, before settling down for a nap with you curled against him.

*title from "Jars" by Chevelle.

[mandoloriancookie]

all I did was what I had to - part one

all I did was what I had to miniseries

part one: all I did was what I had to

series masterlist | part one | part two | part three

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: A newcomer to Joel's group of raiders makes a pass at you. Joel reinforces his dominance.

Warnings: DARK. dead dove do not eat. raider!Joel is not a good man, dark!Joel Miller, mention of past assault (not by Joel), dub-con due to power imbalance and implied captivity, reader can have a little stockholm syndrome as a treat. watersports, piss drinking, canon-typical violence, gore, piv intercourse, unsafe sex, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), bit of both game and show joel, sorta d/s dynamics I guess, not RACK compliant

Originally written for Kinktober 2023 - Day 4 - Overstimulation / Human Urinal, inspired by this prompt list from @absurdthirst and this gifset from @a7estrellas. I did not come up with raider/hunter!Joel or dark!Joel and many great writers have built in this sandbox before me.

also on ao3

You’d like to say that six months ago, when the group of raiders “took you in,” you would have fought tooth and nail to avoid this situation. You wished you could say you ever really fought back at all.

But after Joel Miller had found you in a supply room during a raid, sobbing and struggling under a FEDRA officer, you had never even so much as told him no. Not after he pulled the man—your husband, who had been starving and abusing you since your wedding night three weeks ago—off your aching body and pummeled his face into the ground. When all that was left was pulp, he had helped you to your feet with bloodied hands. 

“You okay?” he said. His furrowed brow and cold eyes told you he was dangerous more than the corpse on the ground, as his concern was for you alone, entirely barren of remorse or disgust. 

You nodded, but the tremor of your hands betrayed you. He shucked off his jacket and helped you into it, numb as you were, and zipped it up. It was long enough to give you the illusion of modesty since your clothes were nowhere to be found.

He had led you down the stairs and outside, crowding you into the passenger seat of a dented, rusty pickup.

“Wait here,” he said, shutting the door. 

And you had. 

Now, you were knelt between Joel’s heavy boots in the living room of the main safe house. He was sprawled on the main sofa, beer in one hand and the other on the back of your head. The others were milling about, drinking shitty moonshine, and enjoying the spoils of today’s raid. 

You had an old, soft flannel on and Joel’s thick cock in your throat. He was holding you there, motionless, while your eyes stung and watered. Every so often, he’d guide you to bob up and down or shove your face down to lick his balls. He was dragging it out, savoring it in a rare display of luxury. 

Their haul today meant easy living for a couple months after striking an unfortunate band of Fireflies. After the slaughter, they had returned with crates and cases of supplies. You, however, had spent the last two days locked in your room upstairs.

The upper floor of the house was Joel’s. The door at the foot of the stairs locked from both directions, the sole key to which never left the chain around his neck. Your little room had a mattress and a door to a Jack and Jill bathroom. Joel’s room, where you actually spent most of your time, was on the other side. But it had been locked, and you had been left with plenty of food and water but absolutely nothing to do. 

So when Joel came home in a better mood than you’d ever seen him, you jumped at the opportunity to go downstairs. He didn’t like you down there most of the time, didn’t like anyone seeing you but him, unless he was putting on a show of dominance.

Like now. Your quiet obedience on full display, a reminder that even in a time of prosperity, Joel Miller was still the king. 

He took the last swig of his beer and handled the bottle off to a lackey (you didn't see them enough to tell them apart, or care enough to learn their names). He let go of your hair and gave your cheek two sharp pats, smirking when you scrambled to please him. Your hands had been clasped behind your back where they belonged, but he was ready to cum, so you wrapped one around the base of his cock and massaged his balls with the other, using your throat as roughly as he would.

This was second nature, now. The only days you went without his cock in your mouth were the days he was away on raids. When you had woken that morning without the ache in your jaw and throat, you had been sad. (Whatever that said about your life now wasn’t something you wanted to think about too hard.)

Saliva coated your fingers where they grasped the very root of him, smearing on your face as you buried him as deep within you as possible. Tears scorched your cheeks as you gagged and struggled to remember to breathe through your nose. 

He snapped his fingers in your face, drawing not just your eyes to his but capturing the attention of everyone else in the room. He held your gaze and your head in place as hot ropes of cum shot down your throat. 

Drained, he let you up, a lazy grin spreading as you coughed and sobbed for a moment. 

“Shit,” said one of the newer recruits, too young and stupid to survive for long. “I call next.”

The tension in the room was immediate. One of Joel’s smarter lackeys stepped away from the splatter zone. He was, after all, sporting a new denim jacket from the haul. 

Joel held your eyes for a moment before slowly looking up at the offender. He rose, forcing you to scramble back a few inches to make room. His flaccid cock was eye level with you now, but you didn’t dare look away from his face. The satisfied grin had sharpened, his dark eyes clear and dangerous. 

“Yeah? You want her to suck you off?” Joel drawled.

How this man had lived to his mid-twenties astounded you. He was making eye contact with a predator with apparently zero awareness of the danger. 

“Fuck yeah, man,” said the future corpse. 

Joel dragged his eyes back down to you. “Open up, sweetheart.” 

The other man made to move toward you, but Joel raised one finger and waited while you opened your mouth, tongue out. Your heart was racing. You didn’t believe he would actually let someone else touch you, but there was still a sharp jolt of fear.

Joel took himself in hand, lifting your chin up with the other. He cocked an eyebrow at you—not seeking permission, but granting a warning. You realized what he was about to do right before it happened, tensing every muscle to fight the instinct to snap your mouth shut.

It wasn’t the first time Joel had pissed in your mouth, but that didn’t make the acrid stream any more pleasant. It burned your raw throat on the way down. He didn’t look away from you, thumb stroking your jaw gently. When he finished, he held his cock out for you to lick the tip clean. You pressed a soft kiss, offering forgiveness he didn’t require, and sat back on your heels.

He looked up at the other man, waving a loose arm in your direction. “Ya still want her?” 

“You’re fucked up,” the newcomer said, shaking his head. “That’s fucking disgusting.”

Joel laughed and pulled your head to his thigh, one ear pressed against it and his large palm over the other. You squeezed your eyes shut just in time as he drew his pistol and shot the man in the crotch in one fluid moment. The bang still jolted you, and you pressed your face harder into Joel’s rough jeans. 

He took his hand off your ear to stroke your cheek. “Get him out of here,” he barked at one of the others, who immediately dragged the screaming, writhing man out of the house. 

Joel squatted down, hands on your shoulders. “You okay?” He inspected you, brushing his hands over “your” shirt to make sure none of the viscera had reached you. 

You nodded, though you were shaking a little and forcing slow, wavering breaths in and out. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, brushing a thumb over your swollen lips. He stood up and helped you up, leading you upstairs without another glance at his men. 

Your hand grasped tight in his rough, calloused palm, and he led you to his room, where you sat on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast.

He toed off his boots and slid his belt out of the loops of his jeans. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll wash the taste outta your mouth.” 

You looked up to watch him shuck off his gray t-shirt, captivated by the way it peeled off his biceps and fluttered to the floor. It was followed quickly by his jeans and boxers. His cock sprung free, hard again already after the thrilling turn of events.

You made to slide to your knees, but he clicked his tongue at you. “C’mon, I ain’t that mean. Lay back, sweetheart. You did so good out there for me.”

You obeyed, ass perched on the edge, knees bent and legs spread wide, braced against the footboard. He stepped between your legs, running a hand over your stomach.

“Look at you, princess, you’re soaked.” The crooked smirk returned as he lightly dragged a finger through your wet folds. “You liked that?” 

A wretched flush overtook you from your face to your chest, ears burning. You looked away, but the sharp tsk brought your eyes back to him. 

“Don’t hide from me,” his voice pitched low and dark, the drawl always thicker when he was stalking prey. “It’s a good thing, baby. Tell me why you’re dripping.”

“Felt safe,” you murmured, blushing harder. “I like bein’ yours.” 

He grinned and pushed his thumb down on your clit, watching as you gasped and jerked.

“Good girl,” he said and sank to his knees.

He chuckled, watching your eyes grow wide. He didn’t want to spoil you, so this was a rare treat. He spread you with two fingers, licking a wide stripe from your cunt to your clit. Your hips jerked, and he lay an arm over them, pinning you down as you sobbed a long moan. 

A rare treat, but a divine one. He ate you out like you were the first oasis in the desert. Licking and sucking, plunging three fingers deep into your pussy until you fell apart on his tongue. And he didn’t stop, teeth nipping at your clit until the aftershocks of your orgasm crested smoothly into another. And another. You were sobbing full out, thrashing to pull away from the suffocating pain and pleasure, but he held you in place until the sixth orgasm left you sprawled, loose-limbed, eyes dazed. 

“That’s it, baby,” he crooned, standing up and raising your knees to your chest. You hadn’t the strength to move where he wanted, but he was more than happy to manhandle your pliant, soft body. 

Your eyes fluttered open when he notched the fat head of his cock at your entrance, only to roll back and shut again when he pushed into the hilt in one smooth stroke. You were slick, and he had stretched you with his fingers (another luxury you weren’t always awarded), but the sheer size of him never failed to take your breath away.

There was no slow, gentle sex with Joel. Only the rough, demanding pace he set immediately, hands bruising your already mottled hips. It didn’t take long, him having already spent once that day and your body in no condition to handle a long session. When he began to flood your cunt with his warmth, he reached down and pinched your clit, twisting cruelly. Your scream was loud but broken, rough with overuse, as he ripped another orgasm from you. 

He slipped out and crawled onto the mattress, gently moving you up to rest against the pillows with him. “Open,” he said, tapping at your jaw. 

You let your mouth fall open, not a spare thought in your brain, as he made good on the promise to wash the taste of his piss out. Reaching between your legs, he scooped up a glob of your mixed juices, bringing them to your tongue. You automatically closed your lips around him, sucking and licking. He repeated the motion twice more until he was satisfied, then pulled you in for a deep kiss, chasing the taste of both your pleasures. 

It wasn’t until after he lulled you to sleep, brushing the sweat from your brow, that he pulled his clothes back on and crept out of the room.

Outside, his men had tied the injured sonofabitch around the wrists and slung the rope over a solid branch, his feet just barely dragging on the mud below.

He jolted alert as Joel approached and began sobbing in fear. Joel spit at his feet.

“Shame you didn’t bleed out already,” Joel said, drawing his finger along the blade of his favorite knife. The blood pooled on Joel’s fingertip, dripping down to his wrist. 

The other man watched, eyes wide with terror, and began screaming around the rag in his mouth. 

“I mean, a shame for you,” Joel said, with a shrug and a quirk of his lips. “I’m gonna have a real good time, though.”

*title from "There's No 'I' in Team" by Taking Back Sunday.

[mandoloriancookie]

all I did was what I had to masterlist

dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ only.

Status: ongoing

Series Summary: this is a series of snapshots following dark!raider/hunter!Joel Miller and f!reader, who he saves from her abusive spouse for a slightly better situation. It's very dark and so far all the parts involve watersports, if that's your kind of thing.

Series Warnings: DARK, dub-con, dead dove do not eat, watersports, piss drinking, raider/hunter!Joel is MEAN, canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence and gore, mentions of attempted sexual assault (not by Joel), mention of past actual assault (not by Joel), piv intercourse, unsafe sex, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), bit of both game and show joel, sorta d/s dynamics I guess, not RACK compliant, spitting, pissplay, bathroom control, humiliation

also on ao3

This is a loose-fit, ongoing series that currently does not have a regular release schedule.

part one: all I did was what I had to

part two: this world was not meant for you

part three: we can't both become the same

at this time, I am unsure if there will be more parts. I don't have a plan, these just keep popping into my brain. so we'll see.

[mandoloriancookie]

[mandoloriancookie]

Hi!!! I saw your prompts and I was hoping to request one for Din. I absolutely love your writing, especially the hurt/comfort.

I was hoping to request: “Seriously, though, I’m fine! Stop making such a big deal out of it!” for Din. Thank you so much!

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: “Seriously, though, I’m fine! Stop making such a big deal out of it!”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You holstered your blaster as your chest heaved from the fight. You dared to look down at your throbbing leg just to see a streak of red strained across your pants. A quiet curse fell from your lips as you looked up and met Din's visor.

"Nice work." Din nodded as he made his way over to you, his gloved hands holding your shoulders as his visor gave you a once-over. "Are you..." He trailed off as his visor caught your leg.

"I'm fine." You raised a hand to the lip of his helmet and urged him to meet your gaze again. "It's just a scratch."

Din looked between your wound and your eyes a few times. He shifted his weight and sighed. "Cyar'ika..."

You held his helmet between your hands. "I'm fine." You nodded at him. "I promise." You gestured with your head to the nearest exit. "Let's head back to the ship."

Din tilted his helmet, evidently not convinced but allowing you to go on anyway. He was closer to your side—your injured side—than usual, and you tried your best to hide the slight limp you had. This wound would no doubt need a few stitches, but you planned on doing those on your own, once Din was asleep.

You hissed as you rounded a corner, and Din stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder. You exhaled and raised your brow at him. "Din..."

"Can I at least look at it?" Din's free hand pulled into a tight fist at his side.

You took a quick glance around and nodded. "All right. But we should make it quick."

Din nodded and immediately knelt down, keeping one gloved hand on the non-injured part of your thigh and using the other to look closer at your wind. You inhaled when his fingers got too close, and he pulled them away without hesitation. "They got you good." Din exhaled a worried breath. "This is gonna need stitches."

He stood back to his full height and pointed a finger in the direction of your leg.

"You're lying to me. I know that hurts."

You took his finger and folded it back into place. "I'll live." Din tilted his helmet and took a step closer to you, making you chuckle. "Seriously, though, I’m fine! Stop making such a big deal out of it!" You gave his fist a squeeze. "Can we go now?"

Din looked down at your hands and nodded, though it was reluctant. You shook your head but couldn't help smiling as you once again led the way to the ship. Din was somehow even closer to your side than before, and his visor was fixed more on your leg than it was the way ahead.

Eventually, you got back to the ship, and the first thing Din did was ease you down onto a cargo crate by taking a gentle grasp on your shoulders. You sighed and let him work; if it would make him feel better about it, then you didn't mind.

Din soon knelt down with the medpac and went to work. "This is gonna hurt, I'm sorry."

You lightly scoffed at that. "Please, as if you haven't stitched me up before."

Din's visor glanced up at you for a moment. "That doesn't mean I should stop apologizing for the pain."

You smiled and ran a hand over his helmet. "You're too sweet."

The hand Din had steadied on your thigh gave it a gentle squeeze in shyness. "You're not gonna think that in a second here." He then offered his hand up to you, and you took it between both of yours as he started to fix you up.

You only let out a few tight growls and whimpers as Din worked with the stitches. He took each tight squeeze you gave his hand with grace, as if it didn't bother him in the slightest. He was quick yet efficient, and soon, he had finished up and was bandaging it.

"There." Din's hand that wasn't in yours gave your leg a squeeze. "How's that?"

You offered him a smile that was even warmer than before. "Much better." You held his helmet between his hands and urged him closer. "Thank you, Din."

He rested his helmet against your forehead. "Thank you for letting me take care of it."

You ran your knuckles along his metal cheek. "It's nice to see that you care so much."

Din tilted his helmet at that. "I always will."

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

[mandoloriancookie]

Coming Sometime 2024

This 👏 Is 👏 It.👏Sickos.

Absoloutley floored with the amount of things I learned and accomplished with this, I mean...holy fucking fuck...this is blowing me away. I am so happy that I was able to figure out the landscaping, and shading/lighting so quickly, so now I can get started drafting ch0!

Will of course post frequent sneek peeks. Chapters 0-2 are pretty much ready for illustration (and I'm still unsure If im going to color the chapters with as much detail as the covers...), so I plan to release chapter 0, release chapter 1, release chapter 2, and release Prolougue part 1, then chapter 3 and so on! I wonder how im gonna work on drawing while working on editing future chapters though. i'll probrobly have periods where I bounce around based on what I have motivation for, but of course will only release in order.

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

RD original by @no-droids

RD (abridged for Christian Roomates) Comic by @roughdaysandart

[mandoloriancookie]

Fuck it I'll try making a Rough Day comic 🤦🏽‍♀️

*(frequently updated masterpost)*

EDIT/UPDATE FOR CLARITY APRIL 2024

= Yes I'm making a comic based on Rough Day by @no-droids

= Yes I'm editing the smut out ("Abridged for Christian roomates"), except for some kisses and hugs/cuddles shrouded in the dark/implied etc

=Yes I'm adding filler content/altering the intimacy timeline to make up for editing out the smut

=Yes it will be just as clever and soft, just less Ooga Booga horny

= Yes most chapters will be split and released in parts

= Yes the prolougue will be released in parts between chapter releases

=Yes I share the outline here as it develops (LST UPDTD 4/8/24)

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

[ORIGINAL POST BEGINS HERE] (FEB 2024)

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

I just loved the process of creating that Cantina comic so much, and I really really have been a imagining how cool a comic could look for the entire fic (its just writted so well bro) and I really wanna make it super clean so...I think imma break out the tablet and get this going. Also I just love this work so much that it would really being mw so much joy (especially as my fiest comic) and thats what's important in the end.

No idea if it'll stick or if it'll be just a few or how soon but...I really am excited to try

Also kinda have to get used to drawing starvwars environments/backgrounds/people in general, as I'm not used to that at all so here's to learning ALOT of new things ahead!

Probs will start out with the backstory drabble from @no-droids masterlist just for chronological sake and then do the chapters in order.

About the smut...🙃

*sigh* I live with my very christian siblings in a one bedroom so.....just no soft or hardcore smut (idk if i can even get away with any spicy gestures at all lol), and will probs have to clean some of the language up or leave bubbles blank until I live alone and can edit them later then re-upload 🤣

At least for now

Will go Bananas if I live alone and can edit in the future

At the moment I am probs going to put funny segments or censorship for those scenes as fillers (maybe a wierd dance, blurb, or water mark like "save it you sickos")

So yeah I hope anyone who also enjoys this fic has as much fun observing this process as I will have making it!

[mandoloriancookie]

Passing Notes: NSFW

Joel Miller x f!reader | 18+ | 1.6k words | Passing Notes masterlist

summary: A handsome stranger looks over your shoulder at the worst possible moment.

a/n: This one goes out to all of the folks on Discord who know the terror of opening the wrong channel in public. Happy @swiftiscruff exchange! I'm tagging you all at the bottom because the list is long lol!

tags/warnings: food and drink mention, flirting, reader gets caught looking at smutty gifs and images in public, smutty images of: p-in-v sex, manhandling, oral (f!receiving), reader walks and sits at a cafe (otherwise not described)

...

You sank into the last open seat, thankfully one of the ones by the window that wasn’t too cramped. It even had an outlet. You sighed as you stretched out your legs under the table. The walk to the coffee shop from your office wasn’t too long, but at the end of the day it was tiresome. You were lucky to find this seat, even if it was at a long table with other patrons already sitting around it. 

You started to set up your area with your coffee, laptop, and phone arranged just how you liked. You’d decided on the way here to treat yourself to your favorite snack, too, and you’d managed to snag the last one from the display case. 

As you settled in, you glanced to your right and noticed he was back. The guy. Sitting right next to you.

He happened to look up at the same moment you looked at him, and he met your eye. You smiled, shy, and he smiled back, nodding in recognition. You looked away, flustered.

You’d first noticed him almost a month before, and at least 4 or 5 times since. He was sometimes there at the same time as you, and you couldn’t believe you missed him at the table as you dashed to this last open chair. You’d never spoken to him, but you’d definitely had a few moments of lingering eye contact. You were thinking you might have the courage to talk to him… soon. One day soon. Definitely not today. 

The thing was, he was almost absurdly attractive. He had short, messy curls that tumbled over his forehead and your fingers twitched with the urge to brush them back. His scruffy beard begged for you to touch it, too, to cup his face between your palms. His t-shirt stretched around his biceps in a way that caught your eye and held it until you started to feel like a creep. 

And his ass always looked good in his jeans.

You didn’t know a lot about him. He usually had paperwork with him, sometimes a book. You knew he was nice to the baristas, at least. You’d caught him sliding some money into the tip jar on more than one occasion, and once you’d even seen him step between the barista and an angry customer in a suit. After a few moments of tense conversation that you couldn’t hear, the angry guy had stormed out, and he had turned to comfort the barista. 

You bit your lip as you grabbed your phone, trying to distract yourself and catch up on your notifications. You’d never sat this close to him before and it was making your head start to spin. He was barely two feet away from you and you were hyper aware of him and his warmth, like it was radiating off of him, all down the right side of your body. You tried not to glance at him too much, but he seemed to be engrossed in his work. You took a deep breath and shook out your shoulders.

Soon enough you were idly scrolling Discord, chin in hand. You sighed as you clicked through the channels you needed to catch up on, and without thinking about it, you clicked on the “NSFW inspo” channel.

Before you could second guess the choice to check this particular channel in such a public place, the channel loaded and you hastily tilted your phone towards the window. If you were going to look at this channel, you weren’t going to do it where he could see you. You curled forward over your phone, trying to make sure no one could look over your shoulder at your screen.

You were met with a gif of a man and a woman lying on a bed, facing the camera and caught right in the middle of having sex. He had her leg pulled up around his hip, opening her pussy to your view as he thrust inside with his (extremely large, you noted) cock. Her head was thrown back and his eyes were locked on her open mouth. You tore your eyes away from the gif to read the messages above it. 

“I’m writing smut and I’m stuck. it needs… something. Inspo?” “I got you”

You snorted and moved your thumb to start to scroll past the image. The next few messages were people agreeing, and then another gif – a close up on a woman’s hips from the side as a man’s large hands came into view and slowly bent her legs towards her chest. You couldn’t even see their faces, but his hands were so big. You felt your breath hitch. You blinked.

In the next one, the camera had come in close to focus on a woman’s pussy from a high angle with her legs spread wide. You could see a man’s knees as he knelt close to her. With a firm grip at the base, he rubbed his cock up and down her slit, teasing at her clit before sliding it back down. He thrust his cock inside of her cunt and then slowly pushed all the way forward. You felt a shiver go down your spine when their hips met. 

You scrolled slowly through a few more gifs and some fan art – and damn was the person who needed that inspiration getting what they asked for, including some very risque fan art of a certain Mandalorian with only one area exposed – when your attention was caught and you paused, staring, unable to look away.

It was another side view of two people, and in this gif the woman was lying back on the bed, clutching at the sheets. Her back arched and her mouth opened wide as she tried to look down and catch sight of the man. Your eyes trailed down her body to find him with his head between her legs, eyes locked on her face as he licked a stripe up her pussy with the flat of his tongue. 

Something about the intensity of his eye contact and the way he held onto her thighs made you stare. You were caught, lingering over the gif as it repeated, watching the way he licked at her pussy over and over and over again. 

You didn’t notice at the time, but you were so mesmerized that you’d stopped being quite so careful about the angle of your phone screen.

Suddenly you felt the slightest puff of air against your right ear, followed by a low voice, murmuring, “you sure are brave, darlin’, to be lookin’ at somethin’ like that in public.”

You gasped and almost threw your phone in the air, whirling to the right. Your phone tumbled to the table and landed screen-up, thankfully shielded from the rest of the table by your open laptop.

But not from him. 

You met his eyes and realized his gaze was dark and intent, but he was smiling at you. In your peripheral vision you could still see the movement of the gif on your phone screen but you couldn’t look away from him. 

“Shit,” you breathed. “I mean, um, sorry? Let me–” you reached out towards your phone, but he caught your hand and placed it on the table. He squeezed once, gently, before resting his hand next to yours. 

“No need to apologize. I will say I was surprised to glance over and see just what had you starin’ like that, though.” He raised his eyebrows at you and you felt your cheeks burn. “You know, darlin’, this isn’t exactly the way I was plannin’ on talkin’ to you, but I couldn’t resist.”

You blinked, feeling like you were a step behind this entire conversation. “You were planning on talking to me?”

He tilted his head and settled his left hand on the back of your chair so he could lean even closer. “Was it not obvious? Thought you’d caught me starin’ more than a few times.”

You smiled and nodded. “Well, then you must have caught me staring, too.” 

He grinned. “Sure did, beautiful. But then I looked over and saw that,” at his words you both looked down and saw the gif still playing on your phone screen. You made a wordless noise and tried to reach for it again, but he stopped you. Again. “Well, just had to say something. Hard not to think of how much I’ve been wanting to kiss you when I look over and you're watching that, after all.”

You weren’t sure your brain was still functioning. He was leaning in close, and all it would take was for you to cross the few inches between you and you could be kissing him. Right then. “You want to k– kiss me?”

He nodded. “Yeah, darlin’, I do.” His voice got even lower and quieter. “I’ll kiss you anywhere you’d like.” He leaned forward and put his mouth right next to your ear. Your eyes caught on the gif, still looping, and you stared at it as he murmured, “figure any woman who’s starin’ so hard at something like that in public must be mighty interested. Bet she knows just what she likes, too. Well, let me tell you something, darlin’ – I would love to give you just that. Do it right, how you like. And I don’t mean to boast, you know, but I know my way around.” You shivered and your mouth fell open. As he leaned back, you met his eyes again and you had no idea what your face was doing.

“Name’s Joel Miller. Can I take you out tonight, beautiful?” 

You grinned wide and introduced yourself. “I’d love that, Joel Miller.” He darted forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, and you sighed.

“Good. And then maybe afterwards I can have some dessert.” He winked and you laughed, finally reaching for your phone to turn off the screen.

...

For @beardedjoel @gasolinerainbowpuddles @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups @whxtedreams

@noxturnalpascal @pastelnap @janaispunk @covetyou @chronically-ghosted

@jobean12-blog @punkette1026 @dilfspitdrinker @futuraa-free @skittlesfics

@ashleymsnodgrass @joelsflannel @thefrogdalorian @100ottersonaplanecalledgerti

[mandoloriancookie]

What kind of cookies do you like?

Can't say I have much of a sweet tooth.

-DD

[mandoloriancookie]

So sweet.

cosmic disruption

summary: the eclipse happens, and everything changes.

Joel Miller x gn!reader // 1.5k

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff, reader and Joel are patrol buddies, cute handholding, a smooch, self-indulgent eclipse nonsense

thank you to @ezrasbirdie for telling me to write this and @saradika for the divider!

To say that “normal” had changed a lot in the two decades since the outbreak was a laughable understatement. Society had upended in every single way possible, reshaping itself into something brand new and most often focused on the basics of survival. Amidst the hard work of existing, Jackson sometimes afforded you a few moments that made you feel like your old normal. 

As you thumbed through a yellowed astronomy almanac in the small town library, a date only two weeks from today caught your eye. “Globally, total solar eclipses happen every 18 months,” you read to yourself, “however they only occur once every 400 years in a singular location.” The little science nerd who still lived inside of you jumped for joy when you saw a list of cities in the path of totality for this year. 

“Jackson!” you announced triumphantly to Joel as he walked through the door. 

“Yeah, we’re in Jackson,” he confirmed with a confused look. 

“No, look! Jackson is in the path of totality! We get to see a total solar eclipse in a couple of weeks, look here- Joel, look!” you held the book in front of his face, tapping the page eagerly. 

Joel grimaced. “Well that’s fine, but we ain’t got time for all that seeing as that’s our patrol day. Who cares what the sun is doin’ anyway, as long as it rises and sets each day?” 

You lowered the book, defeated. “I care. I wanted to be an astronomer when I was a kid, did I ever tell you?” Your thoughts drifted far away to that little kid who got their first telescope on their eighth birthday. The world seemed so full of possibility then. 

Joel’s face softened a bit. “I don’t think you ever told me that. Hard to say though with all that yapping you do during patrols, sometimes I just drown it out.” 

You slapped his arm half-heartedly as he smirked, his eyes bright with humor, and carefully put the book back on the shelf. “Did you come in here just to give me a hard time, Miller?” you asked. 

He shook his head. “Long past lunch and I didn’t see you in the mess. Heard you might be over here gettin’ lost in the books again. C’mon, they’ve got those roasted potatoes you like so much. Saved you some.” 

You thought about the eclipse on and off for several days but put it mostly out of your mind as you took care of your chores and went off on your patrols every three days. Joel had long been your preferred patrolling partner, once you figured out that his silence and scowl didn’t mean he hated you. He grumbled about most things but in a way that always made you smile. 

He might give you a hard time for how much you talked, but it was Joel who was the true storyteller. He wouldn’t admit it for anything, but he came alive when you got him talking about music or his brother or even woodworking. There were many topics that Joel wouldn’t speak on, and you had gotten pretty good at not pushing even when your curiosity burned at you. 

Today you were focused on tilling the soil for next month’s garden starts to be transplanted outside. You liked working with your hands, truth be told, and this was a job that no one else wanted. You were happily alone with your thoughts, humming a tune under your breath, when Joel walked up. 

“Hey there, Miller. Whatcha got there?” you asked, laying down your backhoe and tugging your gloves off. 

Joel shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he held out a plywood box to you. “Made you this,” he said without explanation. You took the box from his hands and marveled at how light it was despite being the size of a large microwave. 

“Thank you? What… is it?” you inquired. Joel was not the gift-giving type, and this was surely one of the oddest things anyone had ever given you. 

Joel looked uncomfortable. “Did I do it wrong? It’s been a long time since I made one.” 

“Do what wrong? What is this?” you turned the box around, noting a large hole cut out of the bottom and an aluminum panel on one side. 

“Today is eclipse day, ain’t it? That’s what the book said. I looked it up and it says it starts in about 20 minutes, and this will let you look at it without burning your retinas clean off. Unless you want to look directly at the sun which is your business, I s’pose,” Joel rambled hurriedly. 

Realization hit you. “Oh, Joel. Did you make me a pinhole viewer?” 

He nodded. “It’s for your eclipse.” 

Your eclipse. You sat the box down carefully before practically flinging yourself at Joel, wrapping your arms around his neck. Emotion welled up in your chest. “Thank you, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

Joel froze for just a moment before reciprocating your hug. He drew you in tight against his body, tucking his nose against your neck. “It wasn’t any trouble. Just wanted you to have something, not a big deal.” 

You sniffled. “It is a big deal, Miller. Thank you.” 

You both were hesitant to part, holding on to each other as long as you could. You had never so much as shook Joel Miller’s hand before today, but something about being in his embrace felt…right. Like you should have been there long before this moment.

Joel gave you a squeeze before you broke apart. “Let’s go over to the other side of that tree line there, you’ll get the best view,” he suggested. He picked up the box with one hand and reached out for you with the other. You laced your fingers through his without a thought and followed him towards the clearing. 

“Alright now, what you do is turn your back to the sun like this and put your head inside,” he instructed, lowering the box to rest on your shoulders. You noted that he had padded the sharp edges of the cutout with fabric so that it rested comfortably. “And just move your head around til you see the sun on the paper inside there.” 

You followed his instructions until the eclipse came into view. “Oh my god, there it is! Oh, Joel. You can see the Sun’s corona, and oh - I think that was a flare! Joel, you have to see this!” 

You started to lift the box off of your head, but Joel stopped you. “No, sweetheart, this is just for you. Just tell me what you see.” 

“You’re not staring at the sun, are you?” you asked with genuine concern. 

“No I’m not staring at the sun, for Christ’s sake,” he responded gruffly. You just laughed. 

Joel held your hand and squeezed every so often, humming in acknowledgment at everything you were saying as you watched the moon pass in front of the sun. At one point you just stared in an awed silence, thinking about how you wouldn’t have believed even an hour ago that you would be standing here holding hands with Joel Miller and looking at the sky. 

The moon and the sun didn’t know that there was an apocalypse, and at this moment you forgot there was also. 

Finally, as the moon continued its trek across the sky, you lifted the box off of your head. As your eyes adjusted to the light, Joel’s smiling face met yours. You had never seen him smile so big with happiness radiating from his eyes. 

“That was…more than amazing. Thank you. How did you know how to make that?” you asked, immediately regretting the question as the smile faltered just a bit. 

Joel cleared his throat. “Made it with my, uh, daughter for her third grade science project.” 

He didn’t offer any more details and you didn’t ask. You just took his hand again and smiled sadly. You knew loss too, like everyone in this world, and you didn’t need to ask how much pain he had been through. 

“You know, you’re awfully sweet, Miller. I’m going to have to tell the rest of the town,” you joked, watching the sadness lift just a bit from his face. “They’re going to expect you to be nice to them from now on.” 

He laughed and shook his head. “They know better than to think that. Tommy said they know it’s just for you, anyway.” 

“Just for me?” you asked quietly. 

He looked away. “I’m no good at this, sweetheart. But I took a shine to you a long time ago and I’m not hidin’ it anymore. Do you…do you think you could take a liking to an old bastard like me?” 

“Joel…” you breathed out, turning his head back so you could look straight into his deep brown eyes. “I never thought you would feel that way about me. I hoped, so many times, that you would just lean over and kiss me. Or that I would get the courage to tell you how I felt. I could do more than take a liking to you, Miller.” 

Without another word, Joel Miller kissed you. Gently, deeply, a perhaps a little clumsily. It had been a long time since either one of you had done that. You hoped you would get the chance to do it again and again. 

“Thank you for my eclipse, Joel.” 

“My pleasure, sweetheart.” 

[mandoloriancookie]

smother - part ix: fracture

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: the new season rolling in brings changes, both in the beautiful landscape surrounding your home with joel and in both of your hearts. when did life with the man who holds you here become quite so sweet to stomach? 12.7k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, general coercion, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 49), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, reader wears a collar and leash, oral (m receiving), cockwarming (kinda brief but still there), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie(s), somnophilia, corruption kink, reader straddles joel, joel manhandles reader, so so many pet names for reader, dirty talk, food consumption, brief description of reader's clothing, reader has hair, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: this is kind of an insane amount of smut but joel is just a creepy horndog and i take no responsibility for his actions OKAY. also ik this is sort of... choppy? but i needed to find a way to continue passing time and yeah IDK I'M INSECURE ANYWAY thank you @janaispunk my luv for checking this shit out for me beforehand 💕

reminder i have no taglist, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

That’s it, blossom, there ya go, jus’ like that…

Joel praises you while he instructs you to hold your mouth open, making you show your tongue, stretched out and waiting for him as his hands palm the large tent in his sweatpants. Pure adoration sparkles in his eyes at your dutiful, quick obedience to his instructions. 

“Now thas’ what you’re gonna do once daddy’s ready f’you. Got it?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, the noise coming out odd with the way your mouth still hangs wide open, tongue stuck out, making you smile.

Joel smiles softly in return, chuckling. His head tilts as he reaches down to cup your cheek. “Y’can close it f’now sugar,” he instructs, and you snap your mouth shut with more vigor than you’d meant to, teeth biting together. 

He’s being so gentle, a respite from the roughness he’s been doling out on you lately. Joel likes to fuck you hard, oftentimes bruising you with his hold, leaving fresh marks anywhere he thinks of on your body, and making your cunt ache afterwards from the way his hips rapidly slam into yours. You can’t say you mind, that you would complain about it - he hits something so deep inside of you when he does it, so unrelenting that it often leaves your world shattered until you can get your head back on straight again. Sometimes it’s minutes, sometimes it’s the rest of the night depending on how intense things get, but you love learning about your own limits, finding that whatever Joel doles out you’ve been able to take so far. He’s so good at taking care of you when he’s rough, too, just like he always promised he would. Holding you, making sure you drink water, soft, loving strokes along your skin. You feel cared for, you feel comfortable with that routine now. 

But this is so different, so new and scary, and you try to hide the way your hands shake a little as they sit at your sides. Joel can read you anyways though, despite how well you try to hide it. You always have that same scrunched up look on your face whenever something worries you, and tonight is no different. So he takes it easy on you even if the only thing he wants is to watch you gag and choke as he shoves himself into your mouth without warning. The thought alone makes his cock twitch, but he brings himself back to your sweet, innocent face with wide, scared eyes and reminds himself: patience. 

All good deeds go rewarded, or something like that. 

Joel’s hands lazily move up his bulge to the waistband of his sweatpants, but he pauses, brow slightly cocked upwards when he glances down at you. 

“Y’wanna take it out, sugar?” he asks in a way that tells you he doesn’t really mean it as a question. It’s not a choice, it’s something new he wants to teach you. Your face immediately shows your uncertainty and you blink hard, staring at where his hands rest before dragging your gaze up to his face. 

“I- “ you start, feeling anxiety bubble in your stomach. You hadn’t really handled Joel like that very much, not really at all since that night many weeks ago that he’d had you stroke it. Only a few gentle grazes, rubs of your ass on his crotch, or a quick brush of your hand over his bulge when you got needy. 

“C’mon darlin’, I know you can do it,” Joel urges sweetly with a confident nod, and you swallow hard before delicately placing your fingers on his waistband, that fine line hiding him from you. “Why don’t y’reach on in there, sweetheart, give yourself a second.”

You like his line of thinking for you to ease into it, nodding dumbly in agreement as your fingers sneak past the top of his pants, meeting warm flesh against the lower part of his belly as your hand moves further in. Bristly hairs on his soft belly that trail into curls above the base of his cock meet your fingers as they explore further down.

“Eyes here,” Joel says sternly, tapping underneath your chin as an accompanying physical reminder. You flick your eyes back to his and he smirks, a small sigh passing through his nose when your fingers start to brush along his length. You’re more nervous than you feel you should be, the room filled with a thick tension, your thighs clenched below you as you start to move down his shaft. 

“That’s it, baby, jus’ grip it jus’ like - fuck - like that -“ he stutters at the last second as your hand wraps around him, the tiny bit of pressure relief from the way he aches for you. So fucking hard, his cock so relentlessly hard for you any chance it gets. You pass a small smile off at his reaction, hearing that you’re on the right path with the way you’re touching him. Your fingers wrap around him as much as you can, tightening to a gentle squeeze and Joel groans quietly again. 

“Feel good, baby, don’t it? Like touchin’ daddy’s cock?”

You nod shyly, eyes averted for a quick second before bringing them back, knowing Joel was likely seconds away from re-instructing you to do so. 

“Yes, sir,” you reply. Your other hand moves, touching the waistband of his sweats, a questioning look in your eyes. Permission. 

Joel gives you a single nod. “Go on…”

One hand starts to tug down at the material, the other wrapped around him starts to move, but the heft of it surprises you so you slide your hand underneath to help lift it out. All at once his cock springs free and you blink in surprise at it so close to your face, reminded of where it’ll be going in just a few short moments. Even still, you can’t help but smile slightly down at it, such a mysterious thing to you, but the one source of so much pleasure for you. You never really get much of a chance to look at it like this, study it, everything always so fast paced with Joel or focused on you until he’s already inside of you, giving you hardly a chance to really see him. You feel your cheeks go warmer the longer you just stare at it, but Joel’s face says he’s more than pleased with your reaction. 

Your hand gently rubs along his length, surprised by just how smooth and silky it feels, and Joel hums in response. “Good fuckin’ girl, look at that… enamored with daddy’s cock, aren’t ya?” 

Your cheeks burn even more at the blatant way he spells it out but you nod for him. “Y-yes, daddy. I like it…”

Joel’s face goes soft, glowing with pride and satisfaction as his coy smile grows. “Oh, you’re just too sweet, ain’t you?” His hand reaches out, stroking the back of your head, nudging it closer. “Now why don’t you try ‘n lick it, babygirl, show some of that love you got for him.”

Your look of apprehension gives way to more confidence as you lean forward, Joel’s hand only a gentle guide now as you move closer and closer of your own volition, the tips of your toes pressed into the floor to give you leverage. Your tongue pokes out timidly, sight catching on the bead of precum leaking out of Joel’s tip, something of a mystery to you still. You suppose you’d learned that you get wet when you want to be intimate with Joel, so maybe it was the same for men too? You realize you’ve hesitated in your thoughts when Joel’s hand gives you a slight prod towards him.

Your tongue hits right on his head, the salty taste of the droplet hitting your tongue immediately. You’re so unsure, lost on where to go next, but you try to just let your body guide you as you have so many other times with Joel. It seemed to know what to do in most situations when your inexperienced mind had been clueless. You give the spot a few tiny licks, and Joel chuckles, looking down at the sight like it’s one of the most wonderful things he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, baby, keep on like that, little more,” Joel instructs you, and you angle your head to lick more along the side. “Try keepin’ your tongue out, jus’ lick,” he adds, seeing you opting for more kitten licks than giving his length a full stripe of your tongue. 

You try it, enamored with the way the skin feels against your tongue, getting down to the base where his hairs tickle your face, then doing it all over again. Joel groans quietly, his head thrown back for a moment as you try and speed up, licking with a little more vigor up and down his shaft. Joel had been right, you think you do like it, feeling your thighs tightening and warmth spreading across your skin as you continue the intimate strokes of your tongue.

“Christ, baby, you’re a natural…” Joel breathes out as he watches you becoming more comfortable. You glance up with your tongue stilled on his cock, and it twitches at the sight of your eyes glazed and innocent peering at him from below, his hard cock right there on your mouth.

“I-is it good, daddy?” you ask quietly, continuing to licking a few spots on the thick head in between your words.

Joel’s hand scratches at your head as he nods. “Real good so far, little blossom, real good,” he praises, smiling. “Let’s try what we practiced, yeah?”

You give him a tentative nod, fear settling in your belly. The way you’d been licking was one thing, but in the story Joel had just read to you, she had her whole mouth on it. Something you couldn’t even imagine happening with the sheer size of what was laid in front of you. 

“Okay, sweetheart, mouth open, tongue out f’me,” Joel says confidently, looking down at you. There’s a continuing softness there, like he understands how much he’d taken you by surprise with this, how you were scared that it might hurt you in some way. Joel wouldn’t lie if you asked, that it likely wasn’t going to be comfortable, but he knew you, knew his little blossom liked that rough side of him, feeling dominated, whether you had the words to express it or not.

You show him how well you’d learned, opening your mouth wide, tongue out and ready for him, and he smirks in response. So well behaved. So well trained. His mind flashes with pride at the thought and it goes straight to his already hard cock, nearly painful with how badly he craves being in your mouth right now.

Joel grabs the base of his cock with one hand, continuing his hold on the back of your head with his other, and he should ask if you’re ready, he knows, but instead in a swift movement he’s landing himself on your outstretched tongue, thick and heavy and you make a tiny whimper in surprise, trying not to shut your mouth in the process.

“Shh…” Joel soothes, “You’ll like this a lot, sweetheart. Stay nice ‘n wide f’me now.”

You don’t make any protests, simply doing as he says and letting him slide further along your tongue and into your mouth. You feel your eyes well up immediately as he pushes in, already feeling the stretch ache in your jaw. 

“Fuuuuck, yes, babygirl, that’s it, good girl, sugar.” Joel rolls the words off his tongue breathlessly as he keeps pushing, your mouth already stuffed so full and he’s nowhere near done yet. You make a tiny sound around him, the vibration practically sending Joel to the stratosphere while he groans. You’re so warm and wet, so delicate, accepting of him as he sees your mouth expanded wider and wider to accommodate him, the sight one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen. Nobody had ever looked this perfect wrapped around his cock, about to gag on it.

“Make a noise ‘f you’re okay, sweetheart,” Joel says quietly, nudging himself a little further in. You mumble a tiny whimper and Joel’s breath catches at the feeling of it again, and he takes it as a sign to proceed.

It’s too much, far too much, you think as your chest tightens in worry, there isn’t any way you can go further, that he can go further, and yet he does. He’s at the back of your throat now, your mind scrambled and only able to hold on to the feeling of him, the fullness of him. You hold back your gag, your mouth stretched beyond its limits and you feel fresh tears leaking down your already streaked cheeks. 

Joel tuts and swipes one of the tears away, knowing it’s useless, that many more are to come before all is said and done here. He pulls back slightly before slowly sliding his cock back again, trying to work you up to the hard thrusting he wants, knowing once again that patience is key here if he ever wants you to enjoy sucking his cock like the good little girl you are.

“Careful of those teeth now, baby,” Joel instructs, his hand still planted firmly on the back of your head, keeping it unmoving. “You’re doin’ such a nice job, sweetheart, look at you…” he murmurs as he slowly lifts his hips to move in your mouth again. You mumble, then realize it’s getting harder and harder to breathe as he goes deep and you panic, a hand climbing up to his thigh and squeezing with a frightened little whimper escaping around his girth.

“It’s okay, darlin’, you’re okay,” Joel tries to soothe you, picking up the pace only slightly. He stops at the very back of your mouth, just getting to your throat and he sighs as your warmth just envelops him, so tight and silken on his cock. “Jus’ adjust… relax…we’ll have this cock down your throat in no time,” Joel speaks confidently, and his belief in you almost feels encouraging at the moment despite the fear you still feel. 

Your eyes water at the lack of air you’re getting and you try not to panic again, letting him slide out enough to breathe in a ragged inhale through your nose, your mouth dribbling messily around him as you try to suck in air. Joel is back on you, though, faster than you’d expected, and you start to learn to hold your breath, only get the air when he’s far enough out for you to be able to. It’s tricky, the way you’re now alternating between gagging and gasping, trying to learn to control both with each thrust in and out of your mouth. Your nails have a death grip on his thigh, trying to ground yourself to the moment as you take his cock harder and harder. He’s by no means slamming into you like he usually does but you know this is different - so much more delicate and dangerous then the way he’s used you before. 

Joel is completely lost in the moment now, your vice grip on his legs not even a remote deterrent as he slips in and out of your mouth more rapidly. Your gagging and ragged, shaking breaths only urge him on, his balls tightening in need as the sight below him fills him with so much satisfaction he feels like he might die happy right in this moment. Tears streaming out of your pretty, glassy eyes, body wriggling on the floor where he knows your panties have gotten soaking wet just from this alone, mouth stretched obscenely over him, it’s all too much. He can’t stop himself though, needing more, wanting more. He needs to claim you, knowing he shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t surprise you like this. And yet -

You suck in a deep breath as he pulls out of you with a wet pop, urgent hands reaching down to underneath your shoulders. Drool slides off your lip and chin, a complete mess as Joel hauls you up, scrambling yet controlled in his strength to pull you on top of him. You’re completely dazed, just going with Joel’s motions as he hurries to pull you to his lap, straddling wide with your legs almost on the armrests. There’s a tearing sound, and you can’t quite follow his quick movements but you feel the fabric of your panties falling away, tossed to the side as Joel forces you down onto him. 

The yelp that escapes you is more like a scream, your tight heat filled so suddenly that your vision goes black and then spotty for a few seconds. Your hips are held so powerfully that no movement is even possible as you’re pulled all the way down, Joel’s cock filling you up as he lets out an obscene, guttural moan. His hips jerk once up into you and you realize with wide eyes that’s it, that he had only wanted a vessel to come into, something even tighter than your mouth to squeeze it out of him. Your breathing is labored still, trying to get back to normal after the way he’d stolen your breath so erratically for all those minutes. You look down at him, eyes shut and chest heaving, liking to see him with a loss of control once and a while. 

His grip loosens and he lets his arms move around your back, snuggling you down into him, forcing your head onto his shoulder. Your eyes stay wide and unblinking, the last few seconds a complete whirlwind, mind still playing catchup as it still pictures your body on that floor with your lips wrapped around Joel’s length. 

“Mmm,” Joel moans quietly, so close to your ear that it sends a shiver down your spine. “That’s my girl.” Rough hands rub your back in soothing circles, fingertips scratching against the fabric of your white gown, quiet little hums of satisfaction escaping him as he feels his softening cock still planted deep inside of you. 

Joel nudges your head off his shoulder after a few quiet moments, and you hadn’t dared to speak, slightly scared by the way he’d moved, the animalistic urgency he’d displayed to you. It wasn’t necessarily new to you but something about that specific look in his eye unsettled you, scared you to think of how deep his need and obsession ran. 

His fingers swipe gently at your chin, still messy with drying saliva as he tries to clean you off. Your lips feel puffy, jaw aching and sore as you stare down at him silently, mouth parted slightly as if on the verge of saying something. 

“How’s it feel?” Joel asks you, eyes full of worry and fingers grazing your hairline in soft strokes. 

“O-okay… my throat…” you say, bringing a hand up to graze the skin above your collar. “It hurts.”

“Daddy’ll get you some water in a minute, take care of that for you, mkay?”

A nod. “Yes daddy,” you reply, frowning as your eyes suddenly cast down when you feel Joel’s spend leaking out of you, slickness coating him down onto his sweatpants. 

“What is it, baby? You don’t look happy.” 

You purse your lips to the side, contemplating. “Mmm… no it’s not that… I just wondered, um, why…” 

“Why’d I do what I did just now?” He’s back to looking a little smug, pleased with himself that he can read you so easily. You nod, feeling a bit lighter that he seemed to understand your confusion, that it wasn’t wrong to ask him about it. 

“Hard to explain, baby, but it just felt good. Wanted to feel more of ya. That’s my favorite feelin’ in the world, blossom, feelin’ you wrapped all around me like that. Makes me so happy.”

“Y-your favorite?” you ask quietly, brows lifted in surprise and an open mouthed smile pointed his way in disbelief. “In the whole world?”

“Thas’ right, sugar,” he says, softly bopping your nose with his pointer finger. “Couldn’t wait one more second to fill you up,” he says with more tease to his tone and it makes you smile a little knowing that you make him feel that way, feel so good. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and fling yourself closer to him, squeezing tightly. “Thank you, daddy,” you say, face smushed into his shoulder muffling the sound a bit. “That’s sweet.”

“No you’re the sweet one, darlin’,” Joel quips back, hands around you again to return the hug. “In fact, think I’m hankerin’ for a sweet treat…” 

You pull back, looking at Joel curiously, a glint in your eye that asks him if he means what you think he does. 

“That’s right, darlin’. Don’t think I forgot about you,” he teases before capturing your lips in a long kiss, one hand reaching down to feel how wet you are between your thighs. You gasp at the touch and then giggle as he starts to move, reversing your positions on the chair as he kneels before you, tugging your hips to the edge.  

He stares at your soaked, glimmering sex like it’s the most decadent meal he’s ever laid eyes on before diving in close. “Gonna take real good care of her…” he murmurs before you get lost in the pleasure. 

Joel leaves you again too soon. Even the solid several weeks you had in between Jackson trips pass too quickly, days flying by and melding into one another, all a blur other than the landmarks of seasonal change as Spring creeps its way further in. But it’s always a short trip, you remind yourself, he’ll be back in no time. Back to it being like he was never even gone in the first place.

Joel says it just takes him three days to get back to you. Three days. Not knowing how much of those three days is travel, how often Joel stops to rest and sleep, how long he actually spends in Jackson before heading back, who he meets there, who he talks to. A pang of jealousy shoots through you, bones aching for his undivided attention right now - that strangely terrifying yet warm sensation of having Joel’s entire efforts focused on you. You’re not sure you believe he’s with other women, but you can’t say the thought doesn’t cross your mind and make you frown while he’s out of your reach. Mostly, you’re jealous because you want interaction, to see another face and hear voices and see life happening. It’s too still here sometimes, too quiet, even though you have to say life here has been rather peaceful.

You fight the unrest much like you did the last time, wandering about the cabin, spending a lot of time in Joel’s special room at the back of the main floor. You like to see what he’s progressed on, still wondering when he finds the time to whittle and create all the little projects you see strewn about the desk. The human looking figure has started to take more of a form since the last time you saw it, a wide ring along the lower half of it making you tilt your head in confusion as to what it could be. You turn it in your hands, looking at the precision Joel has been working with and smile. He’s got a larger item, what looks to be a duck taking shape at the far end of the table, and you run your hand over it with a small giggle, almost like you’re petting the animal. You wish you could share this with him, this little secret you have, this way you know him that maybe he doesn’t realize just yet. You wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows, anyways, letting you think you have this secret to yourself. Joel was a bit cunning like that.

Days give way to nights, and you try to pass the evenings the best you can without Joel’s guidance. Luckily you’ve seen the routine enough times to replicate it, just without the satisfaction of having him there with you. Joel is a man of strict routine, not one for adventure, making each day feel a bit like the same as they pass, any deviation peaking your interest. But now, with the opportunity in front of you, you can’t help but follow that same old routine just to feel close to him. Dinner, dishes, tidying the kitchen, and then curling up to read. You’ve been working your way through another romance book after finishing The Forbidden Lady, going back to the beginning after the snippet Joel had read to you and devouring the book like it was the air you needed to breathe. Your latest, Captive by Love, was even better so far, finding the couple more enticing to read about. You realized with embarrassment that it was likely because they mirrored you and Joel more in their age difference, and although the gap wasn’t quite so large, you still felt more connected to the main character who was young and wound up betrothed after one accidental unchaperoned run in with Lord Prescott. 

You love reading something so indulgent when Joel mainly sticks to books that are nowhere near the shelf of similarly styled romance books, but you find it just isn’t the same without him here. Everything is too quiet, the romance you’re reading about less sparkling when it’s not his voice feeding it into your imagination, painting the vivid picture. He hadn’t offered to read any more of your selections just yet, but maybe he’d miss you enough while he was gone to reconsider. Your body curls in further on itself, snuggling onto his chair and you turn your head a bit to breathe in the fabric along the back, trying to gather any ounce of him you can. 

You miss him. 

A sentiment that catches you off guard as it slowly makes its way deeper into your heart with each moment he’s gone. You’re growing so soft for that rough man of yours, eyes growing heavy with sleep while you keep your nose buried to the back of his chair, letting his scent envelop you in a heartening embrace.

Joel is no stranger to the darkness, having fought his way through it more times than he can count, in more ways than he can count. He should have stopped when it started to get dark, should have waited until daybreak, but the thought of breaking that promise to you was too much to bear. Three days. He had to be back on the third day.

Dim lights twinkle in the distance, and he knows he’s close. Home. It’s been dark far too long for you to still be up, he thinks with curiosity, wondering if you’d left the lights on for him, the sweet as sugar gesture only spurring him on, ready to be with you again, feel your skin, breathe in your scent that gives him life. His hands twitch, tightening on the reigns as he pulls up and has Willow come to a stop. He rushes to stable her, make sure she’s fed and has all the loving pats she deserves for being such a great companion on these journeys, but his body is pulled towards that warm interior he sees shining through the windows. As soon as he’s at the front door, the tiny window allowing him to peek inside reveals what he was starting to suspect. You, slumped down in his chair, a book laid open where it fell down onto your stomach, head lolled to the side. Your dress is hiked up around your thighs and crinkled from the way you must have slid down in the chair. It’s that little floral slip he’d brought home for you last time, a knit cardigan draped over your arms that he knows are always getting cold. He smiles as he opens the door, slow and quiet, watching you intently to see if you stir. He fights between the urge to rush to you, open affection as he scoops you up and squeezes you tight, and something a little more sinister - seeing just how long he can play with you before you wake up. He licks his lips as he toes his boots off, shucking his jacket down his arms and hanging it up, staying as quiet as he can. 

His gaze hardens as he gets even closer, the rise and fall of your chest as your tits fall out of the somewhat skimpy top, a slightly lower cut scoop neck that hugs your chest in the most perfect way. His mouth waters, desire to feel his lips right on that soft, bare skin overwhelming him before he even notices the way your legs sit parted, as if inviting him in. He has to bite back his groan at the little wet spot on your panties, slightly faded but not getting past his sight, only growing his smirk as he stalks around the chair, taking in a good look at you. He feels the thrill course through his veins, the sick satisfaction of watching you like this, so unknowing to his advances. 

He gently lifts the book off of your chest, peeking at the pages you were last on, shaking his head as some choice words on the page jump out at him, indicating the kind of smutty scene you’d been consuming just before dozing off. His dirty, dirty girl…

He sets the book aside, leaning forward to finally get that taste of you, his lips fluttering on your chest as one finger pulls down at the neckline, exposing your cleavage, one pretty nipple poking out now. His tongue finds it, swirling delicately and you shift with a tiny, aroused cry before settling back down as he continues the movement. You only squirm slightly, but Joel keeps it soft enough to keep you dreaming, not wanting the fun to end just yet. With his tongue still keeping up on the hardened bud, his fingers trail up your thigh, a ghost of a touch, the most gentle he’s ever had to force himself to be as he gets closer to where your legs meet. His breathing is heavy, careful, long breaths as his fingers graze the outside of your panties to find them soaked. Joel bites his lip, almost hard enough to draw blood as he suppresses a guttural groan from deep inside of him.

God damn it, baby, so fucking soaked for me. He tortures himself with the endless thoughts of what he’d like to say to you right now, the dirty praises roughly whispered in your ear but he swallows them down, focusing on the way the cotton of your underwear soaks through to the pads of his finger as he rubs slow, deliberate circles over your clit. He sucks on your nipple a little harder, making you whimper and whine, body more restless by the second but he can’t help himself, he’s needy needy needy with his cock stiffening and straining against his jeans.

He pulls off your chest with a little pop, focusing entirely on watching the way his fingers dance along your clothed cunt, lips already getting puffy as the fabric sits tightly against them, the wet spot growing around his circling fingers. He can hear the obscene squelching starting  behind your panties as your breathing picks up, body fully in response now, stirring more but not quite lucid yet. He has to make you come before you wake, Joel knows that now, has found his purpose for the moment. The thought of watching you twitch and whimper, still fully unaware of what was happening to you makes him feel feral, his skin buzzing hot with electricity as he feels his own precum starting to leak through, a wet spot already forming on his jeans. The things you do to him…

Your tiny, sleepy protest when he moves his hand off of you to quickly unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans sends a pang of desire right to his aching cock, now gripped in one hand as the other gets back to work, delicately sliding past the hem of your panties. It’s almost beyond belief, how fucking slick you are for him in your sleep, how easy it is to make you weep even when unconscious, his fingers slipping so easily into your usually tight hole that he almost comes, barely a few strokes in on his own cock. 

Joel situates himself almost behind the chair with his arm draped across your front, wanting you to open your eyes to nothing, no sign of him except the feel of his expert fingers - his thumb working on your clit while he pushes two fingers in and out of you. Your hips buck and twitch when he finds your g-spot, making sure to give it all the special attention it deserves. Your head thrashes side to side, eyes starting to flutter, and it's like a race against the clock, seeing your eyelids want to creep open any second. Joel slows the movements purposefully, calming you down and lulling you back to sleep, the smile spreading across his face downright sinister as you leak and leak and leak onto his fingers, the shiny slick running down onto his hand as he pressed in hard, just putting pressure on that spongy, deep part of you while his thumb fiddles at your little bundle of nerves.

Your breathing catches over and over, high pitched cries mumbled repeatedly telling Joel you’re close. He’s moving at a languid pace, but not a careless one by any means, each movement intentional, bringing you right to that edge. Finally, you gasp, your body starting to twitch, hips tensing up and spasming as you squeeze his fingers and sputter out breathy moans for him. Joel goes a little harder towards the tail end, hoping to wake you on the come down, to realize just in time what he’s done to you, for you.

“Mmm…” you murmur at the harder pumps of his fingers, eyes starting to move under closed lids, fluttering a bit. “Daddy?” you ask with a cracking, sleepy whisper, looking perplexed, and Joel’s chest squeezes, your little voice music to his ears after the long few days he’d had. Your head tries to turn to see him, one hand reaching up to grip his thick arm that stretches across your chest and down between your legs.

“I’m here sweetheart, it���s me,” he responds in a hushed voice, leaning down to kiss your cheek, pulling his fingers out to rub the wetness onto your overstimulated clit. You twitch, hips pulling back on the chair but Joel keeps at it, making you spasm with a helpless whine.

“W-what’re you -“ you start to mumble but Joel shushes you quickly, further silencing you with more pressure on your clit.

“Shh, s’okay. I’m just makin’ you feel nice ‘n good… know you missed daddy makin’ you feel good, didn’t you?”

You nod tiredly, eyes shutting slow and lazy again, then whimper out a tiny noise as you feel the tension pulling in your core again, your legs starting to shake. You start to come to, senses returning to you as you hear how wet you are, feel the way it’s soaked through everything at this point. Then you hear the unmistakable sound of flesh on flesh, opening your eyes again to try to crane your neck and find Joel, the sight greeting you immediately making you feel more awake. He’s pumping furiously on his cock, keeping time with the way his fingers on the other hand move on your clit, hand gripped tightly and his face strained, softening into something half sinister and half sweet when he catches your eyes open, watching him. 

“Daddy…” you murmur, your hips rising off the chair when he hits just the right spot, making you wince with overstimulation. “Did you - did I…”

Joel nods for you. “Yes, baby, took care of it f’you. Saw a poor little thing in need of some attention from daddy…” He bites his lip and groans, his cock throbbing and ruddy in his palm. Your eyes stay transfixed on it, the way he so quickly and expertly moves along the length of him

“C-can you… on me…” you say tiredly, voice a little high and desperate as you turn your body towards him.

“You want daddy to come all over you? Fuck… fuck,” he blurts out, slipping his fingers more quickly on your clit. Your moans grow louder and he keeps up, holding himself off, wanting to get off on watching your pleasure once again, truly the one thing that he can never tire of, that could always get him off is those sweet sounds you make, the way your body shivers and moves and chases your high so unashamedly now as you bear down onto his hand. Your begging eyes look into his where he gives you a nod of approval, then down to his cock and you break, losing yourself to the pleasure.

“Jus’ like that, come for daddy. You’re doin’ so good, so pretty, baby,” he praises in a low tone, his eyes flashing eagerly.

“D-daddyyyy,” you whimper the moan, the sound lewd and pornographic as it’s accompanied by how loud and sloppy your cunt sounds with his furious movements, how much he’s managed to wreck you tonight. His hand pulls back, fully focused on himself now. “P-please… on me…” you stutter as your eyes barely stay open, fixated on his cock about to burst.

“Fuckin’... Christ, you are filthy, baby, say it, say you want it…” Joel says, puffing out haggard breaths as he tugs harder on his cock. It’s so slick and shiny, so absolutely spent just over what he’d done with you, and you swell with pride. 

“Want it… please come on me, sir, I want it…”

“Y-yeah… show me, show me that fuckin’ cunt, daddy’s little slut, show me how wet I made you without you even knowin’ it. Sleepin’ while daddy fucked you with his fingers.” He grunts out the string of words while you swivel on the chair breathlessly, holding back a moan, draping your legs over the armrest and opening them wide, lifting the dress fully all the way to your lower stomach, exposing everything. Joel’s breath hitches at the sight, your underwear so saturated they’re nearly dripping, his mouth hanging open in pure lust and amazement.

“Open up, open that fuckin’ mouth. Now.”

You sit forward a little, opening your mouth wide just in time for Joel to reach his high, jerking himself as ropes of cum splatter onto you, some in your open mouth, salty on your tongue, dripping down your neck and chest to your still exposed breasts, making Joel groan even louder at the sight of your nipples coated in the milky fluid. He releases himself with a sigh, hunching over slightly as he catches his breath before frantically reaching down to grab you, smashing his lips into yours with a hungry fervor just as you close your mouth to swallow. It’s messy and raw and crude, the way he sucks on your bottom lip, tasting himself all along your mouth and tongue with a quiet groan.

“I missed you,” he says gruffly, his voice hoarse as he finally comes up for air.

“Missed you,” you reply faintly, savoring the taste of him in your foggy state, still half dreaming. Joel quickly steps away to grab an old towel from the kitchen, using it to clean you off before swiping it over his own beard and mouth covered in his slick.

“Up, up,” he says, grabbing your hand and helping you to your feet, where you immediately sink down to your knees in front of him, then wrap your arms around his legs in a welcoming embrace.

“Welcome home, daddy,” you say softly into the leg of his pants, letting the warmth of him seep through to your body for a long beat. 

“Oh, princess, you remember how much daddy likes to be greeted like this, didn’t you?” Joel marvels at the vision, your hair a bit messy and face puffy and tired, but still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen as you sit on your knees. Seeing just how far you’ve come, just how much he’d dreamed of your submission, only for you to get on your knees all on your own and greet him makes him feel a pull, the feeling too strong to ignore anymore. This was more - more than all the power he’d craved, the loneliness he’d needed to quell with the presence of a warm body, the need for any kind of sexual satisfaction. You were precious to him, something to lose now, something that terrified him. He’d never thought much about being in love before, but he knew here with you, your body squeezed tightly to his legs, was the closest he could ever get to it.

“Thank you, blossom,” Joel replies with a slight crack in his voice, hand coming down to run smooth caresses along your head. You nuzzle into his leg in delight, your heart lifting, warmth spreading across your skin. “I’ve got to unload everythin’ still, but you head on up to bed, mkay? It’s late,” he tells you, leaning down to tuck a finger under your chin, making you look up at him. “Need your beauty sleep, my pretty girl,” he adds playfully, and you give him a docile smile and a nod before standing up, sliding your arms up along his body as you go, refusing to let go of the embrace, and Joel breathes out a chuckle at your harmless insolence.

“Can you promise you’ll wake me when you get into bed?” you ask, giving him pleading eyes, widened and still bleary with sleep.

“‘Course, darlin’. Will do.” Joel captures your lips in another long, lustful kiss, making up for lost time before pressing his forehead to yours and smiling softly. “Bed. Now,” he demands gently, gripping you by the shoulders and turning you to face the stairs, giving your ass a firm pat to get you moving.

You skitter into the cool sheets, desperate for warmth after having stripped off your clothes, discarding the soaked, stained panties and dress in the laundry, cracking the bedroom window to let in some cool air, only causing you to snuggle even further under the comforter. You barely even recall losing consciousness before you’re woken by a gentle shake from Joel as he slides into bed behind you. His broad form tucks up against you, spooning you, and you can feel the hot heat of his skin, so raw, so bare, such an intimate thing to share with someone, yet something that’s become so commonplace for you each night.

You can’t help but smile widely as you shiver, wriggling your body to get even closer to him. Joel’s lips are on your shoulder, still soft in their chapped state as they revere your body, respect the skin they touch. You start to smile widely, and you don’t know how you got here, but you’ve never felt more like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. 

“You came back…” you murmur quietly as Joel starts to absentmindedly play with your collar, his other arm sneaking underneath your body to tuck under your neck.

“Course I did,” he replies matter-of-factly, stubble brushing against your back as he takes a long, deep breath of your scent, that sweet goodness that he isn’t able to figure out where it came from. No shampoo, no soap in this house could possibly replicate it - it’s just… you. “God… missed this…” he mumbles quietly, almost so much that you don’t catch it fully.

“I-I mean today. You came back today. I was worried.”

You feel Joel’s head shake behind you. “Mm-mm, darlin’. Never worry. A promise is a promise. Daddy will always keep his promises to you.”

“Always? You promise?” you ask with a hopeful tone, your body melding further into his.

Tender lips find your skin again, creeping up to your cheek, making you smile as it tickles you when he passes the sensitive skin near your ears.

“Promise, baby.”

You forget to count the days, having meant to figure out just how long you have until Joel goes away again, those dreadful three days that are shrouded in mystery other than a cart full of goodies to show for it on his return. You find that instead, you’re joyfully distracted by the warmer weather, the way it seems to lighten Joel up as well and change around his well worn winter routine into something brighter. He has the two of you outside much more often, the sun seeming to scramble your brain into feeling some semblance of happiness again. 

Although it wouldn’t be Joel if he didn’t make most of his time outside something productive, but actually allowing you to step in and work on the gardening with him. It feels good, the soft, warm earth between your fingers while spring breezes blow in, puffy white clouds floating overhead against pretty blue skies. It’s invigorating, the way you actually work up a sweat doing something meaningful - growing a beautiful garden, what could be a beautiful life here with Joel. 

All of that excess energy you had gotten pent up lazing around during the winter months was long gone, spent in full each day as you two enjoyed the changing landscape together, although Joel never let you two go very far off the property. He’d get this look in his eye, fearful and stern, making it become a non-issue because you’d stopped asking, stopped trying to move beyond the bounds he had set for you. Someday, maybe, we’ll go on a hike, darlin’, he’d promised, and you hoped to hold him to it without putting too much stake in the idea. 

But you could be happy plucking wildflowers and traipsing through the tall grass and first line of trees along the edges of your confined little space, tending to the garden with Joel and taking care of sweet Willow. Laughing with him while you two take breaks underneath the shade of the massive, older than time Cottonwood in the backyard. It was all enough to fulfill you and wear you out by the end of the day for now, typically hitting the pillow with happy, heavy lidded eyes. 

But in a rare turn of events, you’re wide awake tonight after tossing and turning, that strange aura that only the middle of the night brings sitting heavily in the room with you. The sheets are too hot, twisted around your restless body as you try to grasp at any semblance of sleep, willing your eyes to go heavy, your breathing to calm. 

But the itch in your mind lingers, and you snap your eyes open again, then turn to look at Joel - he’s sleeping peacefully on his back, faint snores coming from him as you watch his broad chest move up and down. The sheet is draped over him, the man sprawled with his legs sticking out from under the fabric, bare chest on display, and you know the rest of him underneath the sheets is as well. He’d been asleep not long after pulling out of you and giving you a smattering of kisses, then breaking the news like making you come beforehand would soften the blow: another trip to Jackson tomorrow. 

You started to dread it in between the visits, the frequency of them, but you understood why. Living so remotely couldn’t provide everything even if the garden was coming in so lovely and lush this year like Joel claimed. With two of you eating, you knew Joel’s stores wouldn’t last as long as he was used to, and anything fresh could only be kept that way for so long. You thought maybe you’d grow to enjoy your alone time, and while you’ve found merit in it, you can’t ever fully relax while he’s gone. You worry for him, knowing how cruel and unrelenting the open road can be, how unexpected the dangers are, and it pulls your stomach into one huge knot each time he’s gone.

You wouldn’t dare ask him to tag along - he’d made it clear that it wasn’t an option any time it came up and he reiterated he wasn’t willing to subject you to life on the road again. Never risking your life for anything. 

Your breathing picks up slightly, but you press your lips inwards and together before huffing out a more confident breath. You roll over onto your side, scooting your body close to Joel’s, suddenly wanting his warmth despite the room feeling too stuffy only moments ago. Your lips find his shoulder, studding the perpetually warm, bare skin with kisses as your palm goes to his chest, right above his left pec. You’re soft and gentle, trying not to startle him, knowing it's selfish to be waking him right now for one silly question, but your tired, fuzzy mind isn’t thinking too clearly right now.

Joel’s lips smack a bit, a sleepy hmm buzzing on his mouth as he shifts a little on the mattress.

“Daddy?” you whisper, your lips still against his shoulder.

“Baby? What is it? Whas’ wrong?” Joel slurs slightly, his eyes fluttering but not quite opening yet.

“Daddy…” you mumble into his shoulder, suddenly wishing to hide yourself away now that you’re actually faced with asking him for what you want. Joel can be erratic, some questions responded to sweetly, some breaking the rules, and it can be hard to follow at times where your words will land with him.

“‘S the middle of the night, sweetheart…” Joel says quietly, his right arm reaching across his body towards you, trying to pull you closer. You scoot, throwing your leg over his and pressing your body close, giving his hand enough reach to cradle the back of your head now, running soothing patterns along it.

“B-but I have a question…” you mumble. “Can’t sleep.”

“My sweet girl can’t sleep?” Joel says softly as his fingers dance along your scalp, his eyes open now to look down at where you’re wedged into his body, entangling yourself more with every moment that passes.

You nod into his shoulder, and Joel suddenly moves, fast for someone asleep only moments ago, pulling your body towards his, forcing your leg to swing up and over him so that you’re straddling his hips. His hands are on your back, rough and demanding of you, pushing your top half down onto his. You feel the pull of the collar as it stretches to its limits, remembering that the leash is on tonight, locked into place and tied to the headboard. A few nights a week Joel does this, insistent on tying you up the entire night, a balm to his weary soul to know you’re safe and sound sleeping next to him, body unable to get further than a few steps from the bed. You’d wanted to protest at first, prove to him you’re not going anywhere, but you know at this point it’s not about that anymore. The way Joel looks at you with the leash on, all heavy lidded and lustful gives away his true desire - power and domination. If you had truly wanted to leave, you’d had months to do it, but you kept on crawling back into this bed every night, letting him fuck you and tie you up and use your body as his own personal toy, and never once complained.

He notices it now, the taut pull of the leather across the air towards the headboard and he smiles. His lips find yours and kiss you lazily, sloppy movements of his mouth as his tongue pokes out, begging entry into your own mouth. You let out a loose, quiet moan as you start to catch up to all of the sudden movement, your skin prickling with heat when you kiss him back. You feel Joel thicken with need beneath you, his cock growing harder against your ass and you clench around nothing as the craving kicks in. 

Joel pulls back, breathless. “What’s your question, baby, hm?” he asks, tender kisses placed along your cheeks, lips, nose, trailing little patterns over your face. Your thoughts have a sudden blur to them, fuzzy around the edges as your body takes over, hips squirming on top of Joel’s.

“Um… I…” you mumble out before Joel’s lips press against the corner of your mouth, catching you in another quick kiss. He lifts your hips for you, lining himself up like it’s second nature to him at this point before sinking you down onto his cock and you wince with a sharp inhale of breath. It’s raw, your cunt still achy and sore from the way he’d already pounded into you earlier tonight and now showing no mercy as he fully sheaths himself in your tightness.

“That’s a good girl…” he murmurs when you take him in full, groaning quietly in satisfaction. You feel short of breath as you always do when Joel fills you up like this, the angle with you above him so deep that you can hardly think of anything else.

“C’mon, blossom, you can ask daddy anything,” he teases with a rough rasp in his voice, his own body heavy with sleep, the movements of his hands skating along your bare back deliberately slow as he starts to roll his hips up into yours. You shiver, a smattering of goosebumps sending the hairs rising on your arms. You focus beyond Joel’s movements, his hips bucking up gently into yours and his kisses making their way to your neck, forcing yourself to blurt out the words you’ve been turning over in your mind.

“I want to go outside, daddy,” you rush out, and feel Joel chuckle underneath you. His hips roll sensually as he ponders your words for a beat. 

“Right now, sugar?” he asks, amused. Another kiss to your left cheek, then your right, his breathing picking up as his cock hardens even more at the way your velvet walls hug him like they were made for it. “It’s probably damn near two A.M.”

You shake your head, balling the sheets in your hands to ground yourself. “N-no,” you say more forcefully, but you’re cut short by a tiny jolt of Joel’s hips. He’s being so restrained, practically unmoving inside of you, letting you feel every inch as you flutter around him. 

“Then what, baby? Hm? What’s got you so tongue tied?” Joel asks, teasing, mocking you, knowing just what he does to your mind when he fills you up like this. 

You whimper and wriggle your hips but Joel’s hands hold you steady, only moving at his pace and giving you periodic slow, languid rolls of his hips. Your body goes hot, sweat gathering along your hairline and down your back. 

“W-while you’re gone… I want to be outside…” you finally manage to push out, gasping out a tiny moan at the tail end when Joel fully presses himself inside of you again. 

Joel stills at your words, his hands left frozen where they were gripping just above your ass. It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, a tense void left in its wake, and you start to hold your breath without realizing it. His head falls back onto the pillow, giving space between your faces now and you can still make out the glare in his eyes even without any light coming in. “Now what would make you want to do that?” he asks, low and serious. 

You stutter, your skin burning up as you feel fear creeping in. You cup a hand to Joel’s cheek, staring wide eyed into his stare, hoping to soften him. His brows twitch together and you feel him relax the tiniest bit, his cock twitching inside of you, begging to move. But he’s stubborn, unwilling to give you what he knows you want. Not if you’re asking silly questions like this. 

“Daddy… please listen to me…” you start desperately, your hand brushing against his stubble. “I get so cooped up in here while you’re gone. I don’t wanna - I won’t go anywhere, just the yard. Just… want to enjoy the sun.”

Joel scoffs. “Plenty of sun comin’ in those windows,” he clips, his hands tightening on your hips before rolling you over so that your positions are reversed and he buries himself to the hilt again, making up for the lost space. 

You gasp quietly at the movement, his weight pressing in on you and fullness overwhelming your belly. “I- I know… but if I could just… get some fresh air, please, sir, I’d…” you breathe out a long, shaky breath and squirm, desperate for friction on your throbbing clit. “It would help me feel less lonely. Y-you know how I miss you so much while you’re gone?” 

Your doe-like gaze and the way you feel like heaven incarnate around his achingly hard length breaks Joel down, and he sighs in sympathy. “I do know, baby, an’ you’re so sweet for that.” His hand now touches your cheek this time, stroking lovingly along your skin. “But I can’t put you in any danger.” Your mouth pops open to protest, to explain, but Joel’s fingers quickly move to your lips, pulling them shut. “Final say,” he spits out more harshly, thrusting into you. “No more.”

“But -”

“Enough.” Joel says, his voice louder than the hushed tones you two had been using. 

Your eyes fall, shoulders sagging in defeat. “Yes, sir…” you murmur, trying to be proud that you at least tried.

Joel huffs as his hips start to snap a little faster, taking out his frustration on your already abused pussy with quick strokes of his cock. He grips at your legs and throws them over his shoulders, folding you inwards, hitting you at a new angle. . 

“What was that?” he asks harshly, watching your body bounce with the movement below him, tits moving so beautifully rough in the moonlight as he thrusts into you at an unrelenting pace. 

“Y-yes… sir…” you squeak out, eyes closing and rolling back as he brushes against deeper parts of you, your walls clenching and fluttering, fighting the pleasure, wanting to hold out. 

“Can’t…fucking…” Joel spits out, his words breathy and broken, “Hear you…” He folds your body a tiny bit more and you start to pant, the spot he’s hitting deep inside of you making your entire body red hot with need, release bubbling just under the surface of it. 

“Y-yes sir!” you scream out as your back arches into the movement, knees starting to shake. “Yes sir!” you add another for good measure. It’s close, so close, your pussy screaming in that pain only Joel doles out but craving more by the second. 

“Damn fuckin’ right…” Joel says roughly, hands wrapped around your ankles, squeezing tight to hold you in place. 

“Daddy please…” you whimper, your belly starting to coil tight with that need for him. 

“Be a good girl and come for me,” he says with a kindness, not making you play any games and beg for it tonight. You feel yourself so close, whining as you try to heed his demand but you need something, something more that you can’t place as the tingling sensation teeters right on the edge with each movement of his cock into you. 

“Now.” His command is followed by a push of his finger on your clit, quick movements on the nerves sending you screaming and falling over the edge. You fall apart completely, convulsing and writhing with your wild moans and Joel watches in satisfaction as he fucks you even harder, sweat dripping from his brow with the effort. The way you squeeze and flutter and cream all over him tells Joel he’s done well this time, better than most, and you must be seeing stars right now. The pure decadence of the sight laid below him sends him to his own high, several more thrusts of his hips before he’s spilling into you for the second time tonight. 

He rolls off of you as you come down, tugging your body close as you wheeze out your breaths, truly shaken by what you’d just experienced. You’ve found that you can do this countless times with Joel, but it always ends up feeling a little different each one, always a surprise waiting at the end for you. 

“Now,” Joel says more calmly. “Go to sleep, blossom. And no more questions.”

Even if you had a choice, what he’d just done to you - leaving you all dazed and fucked out - made the choice for you as you lay limply with eyes growing heavier by the moment.  

The last thought that flits its way through your tired mind is all you have to go on: at least you tried.

Joel is packed and ready to go when you get downstairs in the morning. He sets your mug on the table as you walk in, one he knows is your favorite with a dainty, vintage floral design on it, little wafts of steam coming off the top. You drink it religiously without thinking twice, part of your morning ritual that has seemed to work well - no traces of you getting pregnant yet. You find yourself quietly relieved every time you get your period, not daring to share those feelings with Joel just yet, barely even exploring them yourself.

You’re quiet, feeling sullen for more reasons than you can count, the only sound in the room the crackle and sizzle of the pan on the stove as Joel finishes cooking you breakfast. Your typical energy in the mornings is nowhere to be seen, a bit ragged looking with your sad eyes, so he beckons you over. You slip underneath his outstretched arm, knowing that’s right where he wants you, and he kisses the top of your head as he tucks you close to his body. 

“Was daddy a little too rough last night?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the pan. You’re about to shake your head no, lie to avoid upset when he already seems to read you like an open book. “Don’t lie, no fibbing to daddy remember?” he says, turning the both of you to look at the fridge where he’s hung up your list of rules with a Wyoming themed magnet. 

“Yes, sir. It was a little… you, er, hurt my feelings.”

“Mhm,” Joel says sympathetically, leaning his head into yours. “You know how I feel about what you asked me though.”

“I know, daddy. I’m real sorry, it won’t happen again,” you acquiesce, eyes fixed on the floor. It had been a bad idea to begin with, asking him something so out of bounds like that. Of course it was best if you were safe in here, following Joel’s commands set on protecting you. They seemed to be working well enough so far.

“No it won’t,” Joel says sternly, lips brushing along your head. “‘Cause you won’t need to ask me again…” His tone lightens, a squeeze to your shoulder telling you something has shifted here. You turn your head and look at him, tentative excitement building inside of you as you question him with your eyes rapidly scanning all over his features.

“Wh-“

“I changed my mind, pretty girl,” he says with a soft smile. “You’ve been such a good girl for daddy and I want you to feel good baby, have a reward.”

You’re suddenly too enclosed for the amount of relief and joy you feel, body squirming with delight in his hold. “Daddy, really? I can?!” 

“Yes, darlin’, thas’ what I said,” he says with amused annoyance, and you barely hear it as your arms fling around his middle, embracing him tightly, your entire body pressed up against him. 

“Thank you thank you thank you daddy! Oh my -“ you push out breathlessly, practically bouncing where you stand. You pull back, even surprising yourself when you angle your head to kiss Joel hard, one hand grabbing his face in the process. You don’t often kiss him like this, preferring to let Joel initiate things just like you think he prefers as well, but you like the feel of it, giving in to the excitement of the moment. 

Joel laughs against your mouth, pulling back but unable to get your grip on his any less tight. “Watch out now, ‘fore I burn your food,” he teases, and you step back slightly before holding onto him again, unable to help yourself. 

“Thank you, daddy,” you say more sincerely, met with a ruffle of your head as Joel embraces you back. 

“You’re welcome, blossom. I know it means a lot to ya,” he says, and something in the way he says it catches you, the understanding, thoughtful tone of the words. Like he’d stayed up thinking about it last night, wanting to do something for you because it means something to you, even if he didn’t fully agree with it. How could you have ever called this man a monster? A fiend? 

You squeal, your arms in a tight lock around him still, ear pressed to his chest to hear the steady heartbeat thrumming behind the walls of muscle. You rock back and forth, holding in that infectious giggle of yours and Joel shakes his head down at you with a small chuckle.

He stiffens suddenly, as if remembering his place here as a leader, a protector, letting his fingers wander absentmindedly along the curve of your collar as he often does. “Now it’s not all fun and games. Rules, okay? We’ll go over the rules.”

You read his body language and go a little rigid as well, pulling back and reigning in some of your excitement as you stand dutifully next to Joel while he plates your breakfast.

“Yes, of course, sir. Rules.”

The sun is shining so brightly, so beautifully this morning that when you bounce around the kitchen having breakfast you practically can’t wait to get outside and bask in it. You’d slept in quite a bit today, the sun already high and bright in the sky as it streams in through the open windows. The breeze calls to you as you finish biting on a piece of toast with some berry preserves, and a pang shoots through your chest, wishing you could share the moment with Joel. But today is the third day, the one he always promises to return on, even if it’s late at night like his last homecoming. You take heart in the fact that you’ll see him today and he’ll scoop you in his arms, being so extra sweet in the way he only is when he’s missed you.

You sigh, brushing the crumbs off of the top of your dress and leaving your plate in the sink, promising yourself you’d return to it soon, but your feet itch to get outside, touch the grass and feel the warmth seep in through your toes. You’d gone out each day Joel was gone so far, roamed around to check on the garden and sit on the rocker on porch, but it had been a bit chilly both days, sending you inside to warm up a bit. Today, however, already looked like it was going to be perfect - warm enough you wouldn’t even need a sweater or jacket, weather you could spend the entire day outside in. 

Your breath catches as you turn the knob on the front door and it moves, turning slowly with your hand. Even though you knew it would, you still feel wrong, like you’re getting away with something behind Joel’s back. For all you know, he’d be back soon and come lay right down in the grass with you and nap, waking you with sleepy kisses, or watch you from the chair on the porch as you frolicked with a sugary sweet smile on your face. Your heart longed for both of those scenarios, having to remind yourself to be content with what you had right now - just you and your own company. You remember with a grin that you’ll have the entire summer to do all of those things with Joel.

You breathe in deeply, letting the sweet smell of the air fill your nostrils and bring you a flicker of life. It’s sweet, an abundance of wildflowers starting to bloom all along the grass and the slightly worn path that leads from the cabin out into the woods. Your eyes linger quickly on where Joel’s ax sits wedged into a stump of wood off to the right, then you clear your head of him before bounding off the porch steps. Steps of freedom. 

It’s balmy but breezy as you get out from the shade, the perfect Spring day to ease your soul. Joel was riding on Willow in this, you think to yourself, under this same sun and getting this same breeze right now. He had to be close enough to feel it, didn’t he?

You walk around the yard a bit aimlessly, standing back to inspect the home from the outside, never getting much of a chance to do so. Even when you are outside with Joel, you’re typically busy - in the garden, watching him work, being devoured by his lips and his touch - leaving you no time to admire the craftsmanship of your new home. How quaint and sturdy it looks, lush trees and wildflowers growing all around you. You catch the corners of laundry blowing in the breeze along the side of the house, hung up on clothespins. Maybe you could surprise Joel by taking it down for him and bringing it inside, although you’re not sure how happy he’d be that you did housework without his say so. Chores are relatively off limits, and Joel only invites your help once and a while with easy tasks when he can see that you’re feeling antsy.

You decide against it for now, a nice sunny patch in the front yard calling for you to lay down and soak in the beautiful day. You do a few twirls as you move off some excess energy, giggling to yourself before flopping down onto the grass and closing your eyes in the brightness of the sun. 

It’s pure heaven, a delight you haven’t known for years, maybe. Golden silence, the warm sun sending your skin tingling, a moment with no expectations, nothing on your agenda. You’d been shut in a lot of the time in the last few years, long before you ever found your way here to Joel’s. Harry and Josephine insisted on keeping you inside most of the time, busy with chores or prayers and lessons, or anything they could think of to make you into the most virtuous girl the community had ever seen. You aren’t too sure if it had worked, in the end.

You sigh out a contented little noise, feeling your chest rise and fall more slowly under the thin material of Joel’s favorite gown on you, hoping for him to catch you in it when he gets home. Thinking about his reaction alone makes your skin feel prickly and alive, desire pooling right between your legs with a dull throb. 

You barely notice your slow fade, the way your mind goes blank as you drift off, head lolling to the side and breathing in the mellow, musky smell of the earth. You’re so far gone in that half dream-like state that you don’t notice it. The rustling noise of grass under boots, louder and louder as it approaches you. The shadow that begins to cast itself over your body, mistaken as a cloud passing by the sun in your mind as you doze. No, you don’t notice any of it at all. Not until it’s too late.

You jump, skittering a few inches along the grass when a voice booms out. “Well, what do we have here?” it asks, and when your eyes are able to focus, all you can do is gape, pure terror written on your face. You stare upwards, your heart nearly painful with the way it hammers at your chest and take in what you fear could be your last moments depending on this man’s intentions. 

Dangerous men out there, darlin’, worse than those infected, Joel had said quietly near your ear while he held you on his way out three days ago, warning you to be alert if you went outside. How could you be so stupid? Do the complete opposite of what he’d said, falling asleep like some kind of prey, ready for the taking?

“You here all by your lonesome?” 

You inhale, finding your voice as you feel your hands tremble against the ground where they’re planted. Your head shakes quickly. “N-no. My-” Your what? What was Joel? Not your boyfriend, not a husband, he was - “My daddy is home,” you state, hoping the lie comes out more confident than you feel.

The man smiles, yellowing teeth baring down at you in a sneer as a hand runs through his unkempt hair. He’s older, too, like Joel, but maybe not quite as old, you think. He’s got a wiry build, tall and a bit lanky but you see the hidden strength there in the way his cutoff tank top shows his biceps. He’s a much bigger threat than you’d think at first glance. Sandy hair that’s cropped shorter, but it’s greasy like he hasn’t showered in days. Not anything out of the ordinary for the way of the world, especially if the man has been traveling, but it unsettles you, the way he towers above you with his unwashed hair and dirty face.

“That so? Your daddy just lets you play out here all on your own, does he?” the man asks, voice dripping with condescension. You freeze in fear, wondering if he knows, if you really are as bad of a liar as you think you are and this stranger can see right through you from miles away. You try to sit up, putting your forearms onto the grass, but the man’s boot quickly comes down to your chest, sending you back down with a loud oof as the air leaves your lungs. 

“I- I’ll scream for him,” you warn him breathlessly, balling your fists to hide the way your hands are shaking. 

“Go ahead, girl, try screaming. I’d bet your daddy isn’t anywhere near this place. Hell, maybe he doesn’t even exist.” You wonder if he’s been watching you, if that’s how he’s figured out that you’re alone. If he’d spent any time around here in the last few days, peeping at you through the windows, he would know. He’d have seen how you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone like him. He sneers down at you, boot pressed firmly against your chest, laboring your quick breaths. His darkened eyes scan over you, like they’re getting the first good look at you now that he’s close, but they catch and his brows go inward. “Although…” he mumbles, eyes trained diligently on your neck for a long beat before finding your face again.

“H-he’s here! And I’ll scream if you don’t leave right n-now,” you insist, squirming under the man’s boot as it grinds into your chest, pressing you into the earth below you. “F-final chance!” you warn, knowing it’ll all be in vain, but anything you can do to scare him off is worth the risk.

He cocks his head, the sun shining brightly around his silhouette making you squint. “Yeah? Why haven’t you done it yet, then? If your daddy is right in there?” he quips back, motioning to the cabin, a smirk growing on his lips by the second. He’s got you between the teeth, and he knows it. Prey for a starving man right here for the taking.

You send out a silent call first to Joel, out there in the wilderness, making his way back to you. The connection he shares with you could be strong enough, you desperately think, to warn him, to tell him something is amiss. Praying hard for the first time in months, a genuine plea behind it this time, you ask Joel to be close by. Close enough to hear you.

And then you scream.

divider by @/saradika-graphics!

[mandoloriancookie]

One Day at a Time - Chapter 6 - Transition

Author's note: Good news! The rest of this will probably be posted today, with the exception of an epilogue I haven't had the guts to write. When I do, it will be posted as a separate work, and it's not necessary to wrap up this story. Thank you for reading! Your comments and reblogs are feeding me. <3

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut Series tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Joel Miller x f!OFC, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, SMUT, gratuitous smut, dubious consent (drunk sex), unplanned pregnancy, fluff, references to past miscarriages, angst, hurt/comfort, romance, age gap (~21 years), childbirth, fluffy baby stuff, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

After weeks of sleeping on the narrow, lumpy mattress in Ellie’s old room, his back finally gives out.

He’s reaching for the coffee pot and something about how he moves his shoulder causes a domino effect of rippling pain that starts at the nape of his neck and ends by setting his sciatic nerve on fire, every muscle along his spine locking up tighter than a fist.

He barely makes it to the couch, easing himself down to a prone position with a groan that he hopes Charlie can’t hear from the bedroom.

Her footsteps echo on the stairs.

No such luck.

“Did someone just die down here?”

��M’fine,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “Just my back.”

“What happened?“

Ellie chooses that moment to come through the front door. “Joel? I need a–”

“He’s on the couch. Think his back gave out,” Charlie says, now standing over him, looking concerned.

Ellie’s face pokes over the back of the couch. “Again, old man?”

“M’fine,” he repeats, trying to roll to his side to try to stand, but that only aggravates the nerve and sends a ripple of spasms up his traitorous spine. “Fuck!”

“Should I go find Maria?” Ellie asks. “Those pills she had worked last time–”

“No, I just…need to rest for a minute,” he grumbles, knowing full well he’s out of commission until someone finds him a muscle relaxant.

“Is he always like this?” Charlie asks.

“Pretty much,” Ellie says, too quickly for Joel’s liking.

“I’ll go find Maria,” Charlie says, surprising them both when she takes Joel’s hand and gives it a tender squeeze. Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself again. I’ll be back,” she addresses Ellie before heading out the door.

When Charlie is gone, Ellie plops into the armchair and leans forward, an almost predatory smirk on her face.

“So…is she your girlfriend yet?”

“S’not like–”

“If you say ‘it’s not like that’ one more time, I’ll take the damn pills myself,” she says.

Joel groans. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Got ya right where I want ya,” she says. “Spill it, dude.”

“No, we’re not…I don’t…I dunno,” he grumbles.

“You ‘don’t know?’”

“S’what I said,” he grits his teeth against another wave of pain, forcing himself to lie absolutely still. “It’s complicated.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “That’s just what grown-ups say when they don’t want to tell you the truth.”

He winces. “Yeah. Well, the truth is…it’s complicated.”

She sighs. “Are you sleeping together?”

“That’s none of your–”

“Just saying, if you’re fucking her, she’s probably your girlfriend. So it’s not that complicated.”

“Ellie, I’m not havin’ this conversation,” he growls, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well, you should probably figure it out before the baby gets here.”

He can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t.

“It’s gonna be weird…having a baby around,” she says thoughtfully. “Remember how bad Tommy was after Izzy was born? When he kept putting Maria’s breastmilk in his coffee by accident?”

Joel snorts. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You’re gonna be busy,” she says. “Babies are a lot of work.”

Even in his pain, he picks up on the unspoken question in her voice. He softens. He wants to sit up so he can look at her, but his back protests. Instead, he reaches blindly for her hand.

“C’mere.”

There’s a reluctant pause, and then she’s standing beside him, slipping her fingers into his.

“I know I haven’t been, uh…great…lately. M’sorry.”

She shrugs, biting at her lower lip.

“Truth is…I was just gettin’ used to the idea of bein’ your dad, and now with the baby…”

He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“It’s a lot. An’ I know it’s prob’ly a lot for you, too.”

Her voice is too light, like she’s trying to cover something up. “You’ll have a real kid soon.”

He frowns and gives her an experimental pinch between her thumb and index finger. “Dunno. You feel pretty real to me.”

“You know what I mean,” she says softly, and he feels it in his heart, a twinge more powerful than any back spasm. He grips her fingers tighter.

“It’ll be different for a while…and yeah, I’m not gonna get much sleep. Prob’ly be…distracted. But it’s still you and me, kid,” he says. “An’ I’m always gonna be here.”

His back takes that moment to seize up again and he hisses. “Shit, sorry.”

She sighs, but there’s a smile in it. “At this rate, you’re always gonna be here on the couch .”

“What’d you need, anyway?” he groans, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, a hammer.”

“What for?”

“Cat found me this new poster, was gonna hang it in my room.”

“There’s one in my toolbox; s’by the door,” he says. “Just put it back when you’re done.”

She narrows her eyes. “You’re not gonna hurt yourself again, are you? Your girlfriend’ll have my ass.”

His answering glare has no effect and she leaves him, laughing.

Charlie returns with the pills a few minutes later, and he swallows two of them eagerly before she can fetch a glass of water. Then he hears her rummaging around up in the bedroom. She comes back with a heating pad.

“Found it at the post,” she explains. “Your kid is killing my hips. Lift up.”

Your kid.

He frowns. “I don’t need—“

“Spare me,” she sighs. “Lift up.”

So he does, still grumbling, and she slides the pad under his lower back and plugs the cord into the wall. It’s instantly warm, oozing heat up his spine, and the muscles slowly start to unwind. He can’t hold back a groan of relief.

“It’s the bed, isn’t it?” she sighs, easing herself into the armchair.

“No,” he says too quickly. “Strained it at work. Tommy’s got us workin’ doubles to get the new barns up.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe you should consider moving back into your room.”

“Not kickin’ you out,” he scoffs.

“I’d stay there, too.”

He side-eyes her. “No playin’ house, remember?”

“I think we might have crossed that line already,” she murmurs, quirking her lips.

Then she’s up and doing something in the kitchen, and Joel tries to focus on letting the heat work its magic. He knows the muscle relaxant has kicked in when he can roll over slightly and it doesn’t make his back seize. He tries to sit up, but Charlie is instantly at his side, holding him down by the shoulders.

“Gotta work,” he mutters weakly.

“Nuh-uh. I already told Tommy you’re out of commission,” she says.

“The hell’d you do–”

“You’re not good at letting people take care of you, are you?”

He grunts. “Says you .”

“Yeah, we have that in common. Not so much fun on the other side, huh?” she murmurs.

She plunks down a mug of coffee, a glass of juice, and a plate of eggs and toast on the table next to him, then puts a DVD in the player and hands him the remote.

“Stay,” she commands. “I’m at the post all day, but I’ll bring you lunch on my break. You’d better be horizontal when I get back.”

He wants to complain, but the pills have made him slow, and she’s out the door before he can think of a response.

The coffee is black and strong, just the way he likes it. The juice is awful–it’s green, some combination of things from the garden–but he chokes it down anyway, thinking of Sarah and her vitamins.

And then he passes out because he forgot that taking muscle relaxants on an empty stomach will do that. He wakes a few hours later, mouth dry and tasting of that awful juice, to find a paper bag and a note from Charlie have replaced the food and drinks on the table.

It’s a sandwich. Take another dose if you need it. I’ll be home by 6.

He’s pleasantly surprised to find he can sit up. Sure, the noise he makes in the process is unflattering, and he’s not going to be doing cartwheels anytime soon, but it’s an improvement.

This time, he eats the sandwich before he takes the second dose and manages to stay awake until Charlie gets home, but his head swims and he barely makes it halfway through their nightly movie. He wakes to her tugging gently on his hand.

“Come to bed.”

He’s too tired to protest. He lets her lead him to his bedroom, lets her pull back the covers and tuck him into bed, lets her wrap her body around his.

“You just wanna take advantage of me,” he slurs lightly into her hair.

She snorts a laugh. “Yes, Joel. This was my grand plan. For you to knock me up and throw your back out so I could keep you as my sex slave.”

“Mmmff. Knew it.”

“Go to sleep, old man,” she murmurs, nuzzling into his chest until he can feel her smile against his skin.

~*~

Sometimes Charlie is so distant, it’s like she isn’t there at all. She stares into space and he has to say her name four or five times before she hears him. Sometimes he has to physically touch her to bring her back, and then she looks at him as though he’s a stranger.

After the second or third time, he recognizes it as the disassociation of grief. He lost days of his life after Sarah was taken from him, days where he existed in body only, when Tess or Tommy would have to pull him back from the edge of a deep, dark pit. He’d wake up unable to remember how he’d gotten to bed or find himself in the middle of a fight with no idea how he’d gotten there. It might have scared him if he thought he had something to lose.

Those are the nights she needs him.

He knows he should turn her away. He knows he’s using her as much as she’s using him. But she comes alive when they’re together, and he tells himself it helps, and maybe it does.

He takes half as many showers.

Tonight, she arches back into him as he thrusts into her on her side from behind, curled around her body, heady with the feeling of being surrounded by her, all soft skin and warmth. She’s murmuring into his palm, slicking her tongue around his fingers, sucking them into her wet mouth and humming. His other hand rubs flutter-like circles against her clit the way he knows she likes.

She’s three orgasms deep and still hungry, panting and pleading, more, there, so close, please .

And then she comes hard, clenching around him and wrenching a hoarse name from her throat.

Not his name.

It barely registers until she’s scrambling away to sit at the edge of the bed, still trembling from the aftershocks, pulling the sheet across her naked chest.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry,” she gasps.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, reaching out to pull her back against him, but she jerks away from his touch.

“Fuck,” she grits out, followed by a low, keening sob. “Shit. Fuck.”

Some part of him has always known; the way her eyes clamp shut at the critical moment, the way she positions him and guides him and takes and takes and takes, the way she asks to forget, to pretend. Joel knows it’s foolish to think she needed him and not just the idea of him: a warm body, a working cock and fingers and tongue.

“Charlie, it’s–”

Her muffled sob cracks something in his heart. Then she’s locking herself in the bathroom before he can find his feet.

Shit.

He gets out of bed and pulls on his boxers, goes to the closed door. “Charlie?”

“Go away.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dammit, I’m not…mad.”

Silence.

“I don’t care if you…if you need…if you…fuck,” he hisses. “Just talk t’me.”

Her voice is so faint it barely registers. “I can’t.”

“Okay, you don’t have to, but…can you at least open the door?”

“No.”

He makes a fist against the wall, gritting his teeth. Without a better idea, he turns and slides down the wall, pressing his back to the door.

I’m here , he thinks helplessly. Just tell me what to do.

Silence. And then…rustling, a soft grunt, until they’re back-to-back with the door between them. He hears the hitch of another muffled sob.

“I always…thought it would be him,” she whispers finally, voice thick. “That we’d do this together.”

He feels a familiar shameful flush. What can he say?

I’m sorry it happened the wrong way, at the wrong time, with the wrong person.

I’m sorry I’m not him.

But he’s not sorry at all. He’s a selfish asshole, so he doesn’t say anything.

“We wanted this so much. And sometimes it feels like a…a betrayal. Like I’m moving on…forgetting him.”

He swallows hard, thinking of Sarah, wondering if he might hold this child in his arms and feel that same gnawing guilt, like he doesn’t deserve to be whole again.

“I think he’d want you to be happy,” Joel says softly.

“I tell myself that, I do…but I don’t think I believe it. I don’t–”

More silence. He shifts his weight. The floor is cold and hard, digging into his ass. It can’t be good for her back.

“When we…started…you said…you needed to pretend,” he tries, tipping his head back against the door and closing his eyes. “I knew that goin’ into this. Knew I wasn’t, uh…I’m not–”

“I thought…I wanted…I don’t know,” she hiccups. “I don’t know anymore.”

“We…you don’t need to—”

“It hurts,” she grates out. “It h-hurts and I miss him and it’s not f-f-fucking fair.”

It’s not fucking fair .

What else is there to say?

“I know,” he whispers roughly. “I know.”

They sit like that until his ass is numb and her silence is too unnerving to bear.

“Come back to bed,” he says, defeated and not expecting her to answer. “Please.”

There’s a watery sigh on the other side of the door. Then he hears her moving, the slightest groan as she gets to her feet, and he eases himself off the floor. The door opens. She’s wrapped in a robe, one hand cradling her belly under the terrycloth, the bedsheet pooled at her feet.

Her eyes meet his, red-rimmed and hollow. He cups the back of her neck and pulls her into an embrace.

“S’alright,” he whispers when her tears wet his chest and she shudders against him. He sways like he used to when Sarah was little, rocking her back and forth until she quiets.

“Oh!”

She jumps suddenly, startling in his arms, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Swiping at her eyes, she grabs his hand, guiding it down her body until it’s resting just below her belly button. Her skin is warm and taut and smooth.

“What—“

Then he feels it, the tapping against his fingers, some tiny arm or elbow or foot poking at him from under her skin. She laughs through tears as the insistent little being seems to dance under their hands.

“Never been this strong before,” she whispers thickly.

Joel doesn’t trust himself to speak, pride warring with sadness in his chest. They stay like that for a long time, his hand on her stomach, new life roiling beneath his palm.

~*~

The baby should be able to hear them now, so at night, he reads out loud from a tattered copy of The Fellowship of the Ring , sitting up in their shared bed with a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. The reading was his idea, the choice of material was hers.

One hand holds the book, the other rests on Charlie’s stomach. She says she likes the sound of his voice, but most of the time, she’s asleep before he gets to the third page. At this rate, the kid will be twenty before they finish the first book in the trilogy.

Tonight, the baby–Coconut, he thinks–is particularly active, rolling and kicking against his hand. A particularly hard jab causes Charlie to jump, hissing a soft ouch under her breath, and he puts the book aside.

“Hey, kid, settle down,” he says, rubbing at the squirming lump. “Let your mama sleep.”

This earns him another pointed jab; the kid is all attitude.

“Mmm,” Charlie mutters. “I know what’d help me sleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm,” she stretches, arching her back, and he can see the outline of one dark nipple through her bra.

“Again?” he murmurs, sliding a hand up to cup her breast and rolling it gently through the fabric. “Already?”

She sighs at the contact. “Mmm. Please?”

He tosses his glasses on the nightstand, more than happy to abandon the book, and curls around her, nuzzling her neck. “‘Fraid I’m not going to be much help with, uh…y’know.”

Not for the first time, he wishes he was about fifteen years younger. Even then, he’s not sure he could keep up with her. He wonders if she was always like this, or if it’s the pregnancy. He wonders if he’ll get to find out.

They don’t talk about this, or what will happen after the baby comes. They go to her midwife appointments together and Joel grinds his teeth through every second, but he stays by her side. Sometimes she holds his hand, and when she kisses him, she does so with the full force of her being. But just like the baby, their relationship doesn’t have a name.

She guides his hand between her legs, under her panties, finding her slick and swollen. She gives a contented little hum of pleasure when his finger traces her seam. “I’m sure you can figure something out.”

He huffs a breath into her nape, kisses the spot where the soft, downy hairs tickle against his nose, and strokes her the way she likes, circling and tapping until she’s arching against him. She comes almost immediately, fluttering and pulsing against his fingertips. A little one.

“More?” he murmurs, gentling his touch as her breathing calms.

“Mmhm, please.”

Her clit is a hard, slick little pebble under his fingers. He draws her orgasm from her more slowly this time, teasing, building her up until her climax is a growl sprung from the depths of her throat and her thighs clench his hand in a vise. He cups her sex gently and trails kisses along her neck, her throat, her shoulder as she rides it out, whispers into the shell of her ear, “More?”

Charlie reaches back and threads her fingers into his hair in answer, pulling him tighter against her, and he breathes her in, sweat and soap and something uniquely her. It drives him crazy, makes him feel feral and protective and alive. She turns her head, seeking his mouth, and he obliges, tongue parting her lips and tasting her as she hums and shivers and writhes against his hand, don’t stop please don’t please don’t stop . 

“I got you,” he murmurs against her lips in between kisses, fingers circling and circling until his wrist aches. He can feel the baby roll and kick under his forearm, feels her fingers gripping him there. He loves watching her like this, loves the way her back arches and jaw goes slack with pleasure, the sounds she makes when she comes.

And then she does, coming undone in his arms with a throaty moan, shuddering and keening in a way that makes his cock twitch.

“Better?” he murmurs, finally pulling his hand away and groping for the blanket they’d tossed aside.

“Much,” she sighs, relinquishing herself to his warmth. “You sure you don’t want me to…”

“M’fine,” he says, wrapping an arm around her belly, which has gone mostly still. “Kid calmed down.”

“Yeah. S’the hormones,” she murmurs drowsily. “Oxytocin.”

“They can feel that, huh?”

“Mmhm,” she says. “They can feel everything.”

“...everything?”

“Don’t make it weird,” she murmurs, and he can feel her smirking against his arm. “Read to us?”

Us . They’re slowly bending all the rules, he thinks.

He groans. “Thought you were goin’ to sleep.”

“I am, but I like your voice.”

“Uh huh. Damnit, lost my place,” he grumbles, grabbing for the hefty paperback. “Never find it again, damn book is six-thousand pages long. Thought this’d have dragons, so far they’re just describing’ stuff and yackin’.”

“It’s Tolkien,” she yawns. “It’s a classic.”

“Buncha elves and gnomes and shit,” he mutters. “This Dildo Baggins character sounds like a porn star.”

“They’re hobbits,” Charlie laughs and pokes him in the thigh. “And it’s ‘Bilbo’, you grouch.”

He squints. “Right, need my glasses. Tiny print.”

Charlie snickers, something about old eyes , and burrows deeper into the covers as he finally finds his reading glasses and his place.

He doesn’t make it two pages before he hears her snore.

~*~

They’ve kept up the movie night routine even though there’s no good reason for Charlie to stay off her feet. They’ve rented the last of the action flicks from the library, so now they’re working through television shows and sitcoms. Some unlucky soul from the time before left behind a sizeable collection of M*A*S*H episodes on tape, so Charlie often falls asleep to the sounds of Hawkeye’s sarcastic drawl.

They’re on the couch in their usual spots, her with a bowl of homemade strawberry ice cream perched on her belly, him with a beer. The ice cream is the only thing she craves–strawberry preserves mixed with cream and sugar, then frozen and scooped into a bowl. Joel makes a new batch every other night before they go to bed. They’re going through Maria’s summer preserves like crazy, and he’ll be doing work on the community greenhouses for the rest of his fucking life at this rate.

But it’s worth it, he thinks, as she takes another bite of the rich, creamy concoction, licking the spoon clean with her strawberry-pink tongue. She’s a fucking distraction. The laugh track is going off in the background, but with every bite, her eyes roll back and her lashes flutter, and he wants to take that spoon out of her mouth and–

He adjusts himself, forces his eyes back to the screen, takes another sip of his beer. Jesus .

A few minutes later the bowl is licked clean, and a well-placed kick from the baby sends it rocking, tumbling into her lap.

“Apparently we demand more,” Charlie laughs.

“Kid’s gonna come out lookin’ like a strawberry,” Joel mutters.

She smiles. “Baby wants what it wants.”

The phrase triggers a memory, and he chuckles. “With Sarah, it was mangoes.”

Sarah’s mom, sitting at the kitchen table in their tiny one-bedroom, devouring the fruit straight from the rind, sticky juice coating her fingers, running down her chin.

Baby wants what it wants , she’d said, and then he’d kissed her, lips syrupy sweet.

He doesn’t remember if he loved her–there was no room for love to grow, really. Not enough time, not enough money, not enough maturity between the two of them. But they’d made Sarah, and he’d loved his baby girl enough to make up for the rest.

“Who’s Sarah?”

Charlie snaps him out of his reverie. She’s looking at him curiously.

Oh.

He reaches for the remote, pausing the show, and the silence around them has weight, he can feel it pressing against his chest. He coughs, clears his throat, tries to figure out how to start.

“She was, uh…my daughter. Before.”

She blinks at him, wide-eyed, her question a small, breathless whisper. “You had a daughter?”

He ducks his head. “Yeah. She, uh…was killed on Outbreak Day. She’d be about your age now. Little younger, I guess.”

Her eyes are so bright, they almost glow.

“Her mom…my ex…liked mangoes,” he explains. “When she was pregnant. Couldn’t keep enough of ‘em in the house.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Didn’t know you liked mangoes,” he says weakly, trying for a joke. She doesn’t smile.

He takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to hide it. It never felt like a good time, and it’s…I didn’t want you to feel like I was…replacin’ something.”

She looks around then as if seeking some kind of clue, something obvious she might have missed. There are no photos of Sarah on the mantle, no drawings or keepsakes to indicate he’d been a father before Ellie–only the broken watch on his wrist. He holds it out to her, the shattered glass face shimmering in the light of the TV screen.

“She gave me this for my birthday,” he says, and the words stick in his throat. “It’s…all I have.”

“And her name was Sarah?” she says in a small, tight voice.

His smile is sad. “Go figure, huh?”

Her lip quivers. “Joel…”

She sets the bowl aside and starts to get up, the bulk of her belly and gravity working against her.

“Don’t–” he starts, but she makes it to her feet before he can protest.

Then she’s standing between his knees and cradling his face in her hands. There are tears in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. She cries at everything now, but that doesn’t explain why he wants to cry, too.

He wants to say something reassuring, to set her at ease, but his tongue is thick in his mouth and it hurts like it does sometimes, like the wound is fresh and raw and new all over again.

“I can’t,” he says thickly, pleading. “Not…right now. Not yet.”

She nods slowly, kisses his forehead with something like love, and cradles him against her. Her warm, full belly presses against his chest, against his heart, and he hates that it soothes the ache. It’s too much like forgetting.

Her whisper at his temple is a balm.

“One day at a time.”