Warnings: Hunter/Prey dynamic, binders, capture, spanking, bargaining, flirting, slight dub-con due to being captive, rough sex, vaginal sex, dirty talking Mandalorian, bound sex, loss of consciousness, blow jobs, removing helmets, kissing, oral (female receiving), sex in the dark, hurt/confusion, betrayal, escape/capture, cock riding, vows.
Comments: Appearing to want to blow off steam, you attempt to seduce a Mandalorian who comes into your club. Only to find out that he's a bounty hunter, and his bounty is you.
A/N: MAY THE 4th BE WITH YOU!!!! In honor of the day and our upcoming The Mandalorian & Grogu movie, we have thottttsssss.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.
The door opens and two dozen eyes turn to watch him walk into the club. Some wary, some speculative, all of them making him tense slightly even though no one could tell. Not when he’s covered from head to toe in armor. A Mandalorian. He watches as a few sink back into the shadows, probably has a puck on them, but he’s not here for them. He’s here to blow off some steam. This is the place and he’s been wound tight for a long time. He walks up to the bar and sets his foot against the rail, twisting his body to look out at the crowd. Watching and waiting to see if anyone would approach him.
The crowd murmurs as you pass by. A recent regular to the club as a server. You carry drinks through the crowd, swaying your hips, and you know your time here is limited but you like it. It’s lively and the people tip well. You see the Mandalorian saddled up against the bar despite not ordering a drink and you swallow. The beskar always intrigues you. You walk over to him, wanting to speak to him and you tilt your head, “how you doing, Mando? You want a drink?” You ask and Mando turns his head to look at you. “No. I’m good.”
Underneath the helmet, he scans you up and down, the only indication of that the slight tilt of his head. Eyes hidden behind the darkness of his visor and he watches as you blatantly do the same to him. “Anything you’re looking for?” You are sexy, your tits pushed up in a top designed to reveal more than hold back and he’s sure it helps earn more credits. “Blowing off steam.” He says, glancing around the room again. “Any suggestions?”
You smirk, adjusting the tray in your hands, “plenty of options. It’s up to you. What’s your flavor, Mando?” You drag your eyes along the armor again, “there are back rooms if you want more than a drink.” It’s a seedy planet. There’s a lot to offer. Drinks. Drugs. Sex. Whatever you want. Mando bites his lip under his helmet and you don’t see it, don’t see the way he eyes you. You’re exactly what he wants. “I like your tattoo.” He says, gesturing to the tattoo under your ear.
Your brow lifts and you smirk as you let your eyes slide up and down his body again. “I bet you have tattoos underneath that beskar.” You hum and he recognizes the look in your eyes as pure lust. Plenty of people are attracted to him simply because they can’t see him. It works because most of them never expect him to remove his helmet. He chuckles quietly. “Perhaps.”
“What’s a girl gotta do to find out?” You smirk, shifting the tray to place it under your arm. Mando tilts his helmet down and your stomach twists at the intensity. You can’t even see his eyes but you know he’s fucking you with his eyes. “Show me to a private room.” He demands quietly, knowing that there’s eyes on him and he refuses to continue this flirtation in public.
You spin on your heels and your ass sways as you stride away from him. He pushes off the bar and follows you, moving easily through the crowd as if he was stalking his prey. He smirks under his helmet, cock already starting to harden under his flight suit.
Eyes follow you but no one says a word as the band continues to play. It’s impossible to ignore the Mandalorian but no one dares to approach as you make your way towards the door that leads to seedier hallways. “Right this way.” You smirk, pushing it open and Din follows you, the door shutting behind him. His boots echo as he strides down the hall, fingers flexing over his blaster as a reflex, and when you open a private room, he doesn’t step in first. “What a gentleman.” You tease, setting your tray down and Din kicks the door shut. “I don’t usually do-” You don’t get to finish your sentence as Din slaps cuffs on your wrists.
“Hey, what the fuck?” You huff, pulling on the binders but they won’t unlock. “What kind of kinky ass-“ you stop as Din pulls a transmitter off his hip and turns it on. The beeping rapid and zeroed in on you as he says your name and identification code. “I can bring you in warm…” he puffs out steadily, voice low and hard. “Or I can bring you in cold.”
Your eyes widen as you realize what he is. A bounty hunter. “Fuck.” You whisper, looking up from the cuffs to his helmet. “Please. You don’t understand. I didn’t do anything.” You promise and Din scoffs, “I’ve heard it all before, mesh’la. I don’t care if it wasn’t your fault. I need to take you in.”
“You bastard!” He’s been called every name you can think of, but it doesn’t change the fact that you will be taken in. He doesn’t say anything and you bite your lip and huff silently. “I thought you really wanted to fuck me.” You pout and he chuckles softly. “I didn’t say that I didn’t want to fuck you.” He reminds you. “Believe me, I do.”
“Then do it. And let me go.” You bargain, “I’ll let you fuck me and then I go free.” Din snorts, “trust me, I’ve been offered sex many times in exchange for freedom. I haven’t accepted it.” He confesses and you huff. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t take me in.”
He puts the tracker away and reaches for the cuffs to grab them and you pull away. “It won’t do any good.” He growls through his modulator. “You are going back.”
You try to drag your feet, struggling but he growls again in annoyance. "Dank Farrik." He hisses, grabbing you to fling you over his shoulder. "You are going back." He says with finality and carries you out of the room. He doesn't care as he carries you through the club, ignoring the cheers and claps of approval. "Yeah, Mando. Get some!" A Twi'lek whoops and Din ignores them as he carries you despite you kicking your legs.
Your bound hands beat on the back plate of his armor and once he’s outside the club, his free hand comes up and slaps your ass sharply. “Stop struggling,” he growls, approving when you stiffen up and stop moving. He almost spanks you again, but his cock is already tenting the front of his flight suit. The only thing keeping it from being too noticeable is his belt. He carries you towards the docking bays, knowing you have a ship there and he will use that to take you back rather than the star fighter. “Bay 35.” He grunts as he gets to the door.
You wiggle, trying to get him to drop you, and he doesn’t. His grip is like beskar as he carries you to bay 35. “You have a Razor Crest.” He says in surprise and you smirk, “you like that, Mando?” You ask and he huffs, “used to have one. Before it got destroyed.”
Seeing the Razor Crest is like finding a long lost friend. His hand runs over the panel before pressing the button to open it. You don’t have the modifications that he had, but walking into the cargo bay is like coming home. He drops you to your feet and looks around. “I’ll make you a deal.” He says, offering something he’s never done before. “I’ll let you go if you give me your ship.”
You are disoriented from being carried and you look at the Mandalorian who is caressing your ship. “At least get a girl a drink before you start feeling up her ship.” You tease and he doesn’t react, at least not in a way you can see it. “That ship is my home. I can’t just give it to you.” You protest despite knowing you’re booking your ticket to carbonite. “What if I-” You slowly say then decide to try and run for it, spinning on your feet to run in the opposite direction of the Mandalorian who sighs and lets you go for a moment until he throws his line from his wrist to wrap it around your ankles.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” He huffs in exasperation and you twist around from your stomach and glare at him. “Kiss my ass.” You hiss and he chuckles as he walks slowly towards you, pulling the line tighter so you can’t wiggle away. “Can’t kiss it.” He reminds you, tapping his helmet. “But if you don’t quit, I’ll spank it again.” He had enjoyed the way your ass felt against his hand and he would do it again if it made you behave.
You huff, knowing that escaping the Mandalorian is a fruitless effort. “What if…what if I offer you something else? Instead of my ship…you can fuck me? As much as you want for 24 hours?” You arch your back as much as you can to entice him.
His cock twitches in his pants as he stares at your ass. “No deal.” He decides after a moment, even though he is pent up and would love to fuck you. “I could throw you in carbonite and go back to the bar to fuck someone.”
“Yeah? But you wouldn’t get that hard for anyone else in there.” You smirk, letting your gaze fix on the bulge in his flight suit. “Is that a blaster in your pants or are you happy to see me?” You tease, shifting onto your knees, “what do you want? To let me go.” You clarify and Din strides over to you, keeping you tied up in his line. “Your ship.” He says and you pout, “and you.” He adds after a moment.
“Fuck off!” You hiss, trying to yank your legs away but you can’t because the wire is tight to his cuff. You look ridiculous with your hands cuffed and your feet bound, like a worm trying to inch away. He chuckles to himself, expecting that answer as he bends down to untie the wire and hauls you to your feet. “Then I’ll just take it after I’ve turned you in.” He tells you mildly, pushing you against a wall and activating the magnetic locks to keep you there. You can’t pull the cuffs free of the bulkhead. “Just for the hassle.” You huff but he turns towards the ladder and starts up towards the cockpit. “Stay there.” He taunts, knowing you aren’t going anywhere while he takes off.
You refuse to cry but tears sting from frustration. This asshole is going to turn you in and then you’ll lose the ship you worked so hard for. You huff and tilt your head back, listening to him as he makes himself comfortable in the pilot seat. “Has anyone told you you’re a dick?” You call out as he starts the engine.
He doesn’t answer, but he’s got a small smirk on his face under the helmet. admiring your attitude and enjoying your sharp tongue. The engine purrs and he groans happily as he lifts the ship off the ground. The star fighter was nice, but this- this is what he loves flying.
Your hands are stuck to the metal of the ship and you huff, wondering how the hell you fucked up. You should’ve guessed he was a bounty hunter but noooo, your attraction to a man wearing a helmet blinded you. The ship goes into hyperspace and Din checks the autopilot before he makes his way down the ladder. “Have you calmed down?” He asks and you scoff, “you should never ask a woman if she’s calmed down.” He snorts and tilts his head, “I’ll take that as a no. I was going to release you but your bratty attitude is not gonna let that happen.”
You scoff, offended that he is calling you bratty when he’s literally kidnapped you and told you he’s going to steal your ship. “That’s rich coming from a big metal bully.” You huff. “I can’t believe that I let myself get turned on by the biggest asshole in the galaxy.” He chuckles, tucking his thumbs into the loops of his belt and leaning against the wall, watching you pout. “You seemed pretty eager for my cock earlier.” He reminds you. “Shaking your ass and begging for it.”
You scoff, “I was in a cloud of spice from the club.” You lie and he crosses one boot over the other, “and now?” He asks, tilting his helmet and you roll your eyes, “clear headed. I promise, asshole.” You try to tug on your cuffs but it doesn’t work. He smirks and chuckles, “so you wouldn’t want my cock anymore, huh?”
You roll your eyes and turn away from him, ignoring what he said, so he just waits. Waiting is what works most of the time. “Well, get comfortable, it’s going to be a long trip back to collect your bounty.”
"Are you - you're gonna leave me like this?" You whine, tugging on the cuffs but you are stuck to the metal. "You think I'm gonna let you go? I'm not an idiot." Din scoffs and you bite your lip, "you really don't want your cock sucked in exchange for my freedom? I've been told I am the best in the galaxy by my exes."
Din snorts and blows out a bored sigh. “I’m sure they told you that when they were with you. But I don’t think you understand how many credits I’ll collect for you.” He snorts. “A blow job is worth being released here on the ship, but I can always jerk off.”
“You are such a dick!” You stomp your foot and he chuckles, shaking his head. “You are a brat. You deserve to be treated like one.” He strides over to grip your chin, “you wanna stay cuffed?” He asks and you narrow your eyes at the smirk you can hear in his voice. “I want to be let go and have my ship back.” You declare and he rubs his gloved thumb over your lower lip. You can’t help but bite it, tasting the blaster residue on the material and you hate how it makes your pussy clench around nothing.
He watches your eyes dilate, sees the want in them and he chuckles roughly. “You’re getting wet.” He declares, smirking under his helmet. “You don’t want to be turned on, it pisses you off, but you are.” He rubs his thumb over your lips again and this time your lips part slightly but you don’t bite him. “Pussy is wet, isn’t it? Starting to ache with need. Wishing that I would fuck you right now,” his head tilts down to where you are cuffed to the wall. “Just like this.”
“The bulge in your pants says you also want to fuck me like this. I doubt jerking off would scratch the itch. You sure you don’t want some relief in a wet cunt, Mando?” You ask breathlessly, fluttering your eyelashes as you look at him. “You look tense. Like you need a good release…of tension.”
He knows what you are trying to do and it’s tempting. Still, he has a reputation and you are a job. “I’d fuck you.” He admits it easily. “Hard and deep, hard enough that your legs wouldn’t hold you up anymore and your throat will be raw from screaming in pleasure.”
His words make your mouth go dry and you stare at him for a moment. You shake your head, almost attempting to clear your thoughts. You lick your lips, “big words for a man who is too scared to show his face.” You taunt him, “maybe you are a gungun under that armor?”
“Meesa thinks not.” He jokes, making you snort and try to hide your smile, but he sees it. “I’m too pretty to show my face. Too many people would want to fuck me. I’d be exhausted.”
“Maker, you are either being serious and you really are handsome as fuck under that helmet or you are cocky as hell and ugly, hence why you wear the helmet. Either way, I don’t think I’m ever gonna find out.” The Mandalorian nods in response to your summary. “Tell me what you want.” You demand, knowing you need to be on the same page as him, even if you don’t like the answer.’
“Be a good girl and I’ll let you out of the binders.” Din tells you, watching you swallow harshly as his voice dips lower. “The trip back doesn’t have to be hard.”
“Well, harder.” You chuckle shakily, eyes drifting down to the bulge he’s sporting. “What do you consider a good girl, Mando?” You ask breathily, parting your lips to look at him with wide eyes, acting like you don’t know what he wants. What you both want
His cock twitches but he decides to play along. Hands resting on your sides, fingertips barely brushing the undersides of your breasts as he leans in. Crowds you as he presses against the curve of your body. “A good girl listens to me.” He growls out quietly as his hands start to slowly slide down your body to your hips. “Takes everything I give her.” His cock twitches against your ass.
You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your lips when he presses against you. “What happens if I’m not a good girl?” You test, grinding back against him and he’s all beskar - solid like a wall behind you. Fuck, that turns you on more. “Do you want to find out?” Din asks and you shake your head, “n-no. I - I can be a good girl.”
He hums in approval, squeezing your hips tight. “Good.” He growls and presses harder into your body. “Tell me what you want, good girl.” He murmurs. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
You tilt your head back, closing your eyes as his words wash over you, making your pulse race. “I want you to fuck me. Hard.” You confess, “want you to use me. Take what you need from me.” You finish with a gasp when his hands slide up to squeeze your tits through your shirt.
“It’s been a long time.” He warns, thinking that it’s only fair that he lets you know what you are in for when he touches you. You moan again, pushing back against his crotch. “Good.” You whimper, making him growl as he yanks down the top you’re wearing, breast band and all so he can cup your tits fully in his gloved hands. His foot hooks around your right and he kicks it farther out, making you yelp in surprise as he positions you.
You gasp as he maneuvers you into the position he wants you in. His gloves are smooth and cold as he pinches your nipples. You clench around nothing at the roughness, loving how he’s taking what he wants. You haven’t experienced that in so long. “Mando. Please.” You beg, not above it now that you know he’s going to give you what you want.
You’re magnetized to the bulkhead of the ship you are being taken in for bounty collection, your ship, tits in his hands and begging to take his cock. He pinches your responsive nipples one more time before he is reaching for your pants, dragging them down your thighs and pulling your ass farther back as he reaches down to pull his cock out of his flight suit. There’s precum leaking from the head and he knows you are wet. That’s all the lube you’re going to get as he shuffles closer and without another word, slams his cock deep into your pussy with a groan of pleasure.
Your cry echoes off the body of the ship, reverberating back to you, and he stretches you out in a way no other man has. “Maker!” You squeal, hands immobile and his grip on your hips ensures you are staying in this position.
There’s a split second where he gives you to adjust. Just one. Making sure that the cry was one of pleasured pain and not rejection before he is pulling his hips back with a feral growl. “Dank ferik, you are so fucking tight.” He groans, surging back into you just as harshly. His hands are the only things keeping your body from slamming into the wall of the ship as he hammers into you. “Gonna enjoy this.”
His words aren’t wrong as he starts to fuck you, really fuck you. You cry out with every slam of his cock inside you. The cold beskar hits your flesh as he works himself into your cunt with brutal stamina. “Ma-Mando.” You pant, unable to do anything but stand there and take what he gives you.
This is just what he needed. He grunts and pants under his helmet as he fucks you. Squeezing your hips before moving up to cup your tits again. “You wanted it hard.” He reminds you, enjoying the little whimpers and the way you try to stretch up onto your toes when he pushes deep. Trying to soften how you take him but you are already stretched out. He can tell you love it, your pussy is squirting every time he pushes against your cervix. “Gonna fuck you so hard that you’re ruined.”
His words, modulated and sharp, make you clench around him, and you squeal when he slaps your tits with his gloved hand. “Maker. Fuck!” You would collapse but your restrained hands keep you upright. “You’ve already ruined me.”
He chuckles and slaps your tit again, loving how you just take everything he gives you and wants more. It’s been a long time since he’s been with someone who enjoys it as rough as he sometimes wants. Needing to work out the stress and tension of his life. You moan and he slides one hand down to your clit, orange leather covered fingers expertly swiping through your folds before rubbing tight circles on the sensitive flesh. “Good, Mesh’la.” He rasps out. “Good girl.”
“Fuck.” You pant, loving how he knows exactly how to touch you. “Keep - just like that.” Your head drops between your shoulders and you look down at his hand between your thighs. “Maker, that’s hot.” You gasp, clenching around him, and it doesn’t take more than a few swipes of his fingers to fall apart around him.
He grunts when your pussy squeezes him tight, having to rock his hips harder to fuck you. “That’s it, Fuck, you get wet.” He hisses, cock twitching deep inside you and making you moan. He wants to cum, but he wants to feel you fall apart again. Even though he’s pent up, he’s got control, he won’t cum until he makes himself. “Good girl, good fucking girl.”
His words make your eyes roll into the back of your head and he fucks you through your pleasure. “Mando. I can’t - it’s too much.” You gasp when he continues rubbing your clit and he growls, “you can. You fucking can.” You shake your head and whine, thighs shaking as he pushes you through your orgasm onto another one.
His hips are slapping against your ass and he is holding you tight, loving how you respond to him. “Soak me.” He pants out and groans when he feels another rush of wet heat coat his cock. You whimper and he feels your entire body shake so he decides to pull out of you abruptly, cock dripping with your juices as he lets go of you and presses a button on his vambrace to release the magnetic hold on your cuffs.
You’re confused even as your body rides your high and you frown, looking at him over your shoulder. “What?” Your wrists are in front of you and you nearly fall forward from the release but his arm wraps around your waist.
“On your back.” He orders roughly as he grabs a blanket you have tossed over a crate and throws it down. He wants to watch you this time, wants to see your face even though you can’t see his. Although you like the blank expression of his visor. When you drop down, he drags a boot off one foot and yanks your pants leg off one leg so he can spread you open and see your pussy glisten and quiver. The metal edge of his armor clinks against the floor as he drops downs and reaches up to push your arms over your head and bind them to the floor.
The movements make you dizzy and you can’t stop the whine of arousal that escapes your lips. Your arms ache a little from being held high and you watch him press on your thighs to push them further apart. “Oh my - fuck!” You squeal when he starts to push into you again.
“Fuck.” His echoed words are deeper, less surprised and more relieved. Like he had been aching to slide back inside you again. The angle is different, the leverage better as he braces himself over you and houses his weight to press into you. “Perfect.” He grunts. “Made for my cock.” You whine as he grinds his hips slowly, teasing you.
His helmet is tilted down so he can watch his cock disappear inside you. Part of you wishes you could see all of him but you look down at the girth and your eyelashes flutter. “Mando. You - shit - didn’t know you were packing that much.” You chuckle breathlessly and he smirks under the helmet but you don’t see.
“You feel it though.” He’s cocky about that for a reason, knowing his cock is impressive enough to satisfy anyone and he’s willing to spend hours fucking when he gets the chance. “Aren’t you glad you decided to be a good girl?” His hands caress your thighs before shifting them to rest on his pauldrons.
“I won’t be - be good all the time.” You respond, shaking your head and you gasp when his hand wraps around your neck. “You’re gonna be my good girl.” He decides and your jaw slacks as he hits just right inside you. “I will.” You promise, eyes fluttering closed.
He doesn’t squeeze, but his grip is firm, feeling your heart pounding against his hand. “Dirty.” He growls through the modulator, delighted that you enjoy this. “Want you to cum again.” He decides as he starts to rock his hips faster again.
You have never been this responsive to any one. He seems to bring something out of you that has you moaning out, thighs starting to shake as he works you up until finally, you fall apart. Your cry is loud, nails digging into your palms as you soak him. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and that’s when it all goes dark.
****
You come to with a gasp, lurching up and the first thing you realize is that your hands are free. Twisting around and disoriented until you figure out that you are laying in your own cot, in the tiny sleeping alcove on the ship. Completely redressed too, except both of your boots are off. You would think that it had all been a dream, except for the hum of the engines and ache in your pussy that is always present after sex.
You wince as you shift from your cot, the door whooshing as it lifts, and you stand on shaky legs. The metal is cold beneath your bare feet but you ignore that as you search for the Mandalorian. You gingerly climb the ladder to the cockpit, seeing the bounty hunter in the pilot seat. "Taking me to get your reward?"
Din doesn’t answer, just calmly adjusting the course of the ship. He’s changed his heading after depositing you into your bunk, trying to justify it as he maneuvers the ship. After you had passed out, he had been worried. Concerned for a moment until he realized you had just passed out while cumming. It had been ironic as he had pulled out of you gently to tuck his hard cock away. He had promised to use you and he was the one left unsatisfied.
You frown when he doesn't answer but you look out at the stars, almost dizzy again from the speed you're passing them, and you walk closer to the man who was inside you. "What happened? Did - did you, uh, finish?" You ask, unconsciously rubbing your wrists.
He grunts, hands pausing on the controllers before he flicks a switch. “You passed out.” He tells you quietly. “So I dressed you and put you in your bunk.” He can sense you frowning, even though his back is to you. “If you aren’t conscious, I’m not fucking you.” He explains. “We didn’t have prior agreement to that.”
You are surprised by that. Most men would've continued until they came. You move closer, "you are confusing, Mando." You observe and he snorts. Your eyes drop to his crotch and you see the bulge in his flight suit. "You're still hard." You murmur and he hums, "yep." You want to show him how much you like his reaction - the way he respected you. You shift to kneel on the floor, hard metal beneath you and you trail your hand along his inner thigh under his armor. "I want to - to make you cum."
He tenses for a moment, but then forces himself to relax. It’s rare that someone touches him with no intent to harm. His helmet tips down watching you as you look up and try to find his eyes underneath the visor. “You want to show me that mouth that your former lovers have been bragging about?” He asks, reaching down and stroking your cheek and humming when he rubs your mouth with his thumb and you open up to suck on it. His cock twitches and you are aware of it by the smirk you manage to give him, even while sucking on the leather of his gloves.
"I told you I got high praise." You brag when you release his thumb, and he chuckles. You work on the belt of his flight suit, "Maker, how much do you wear? What do you do when you need to piss?" You ask curiously as you fumble to pull him free of his suit. "Holy - you are blessed by the Maker." You gasp when you finally see his length, "can I-?" You ask, leaning closer as you squeeze him.
“I take it out.” Din chuckles before cutting off the sound with a groan. “Told you I wasn’t a Gungan.” He jokes. “Suck it if you want to. Your jaw can be as sore as your pussy.”
You don't need to be told twice. You eagerly surge forward to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. Pre-cum hitting your tongue and you moan at the salty taste while you stretch your jaw to accommodate him.
He had cleaned up in the ‘fresher after checking the ship for weapons but he wishes that he had kept your juices on his cock for you to clean off. “Mesh’la.” He groans, head tipping back slightly as he enjoys the feeling of your mouth on him. “Harder.”
You hum, taking him deeper and you start to bob your head, wanting to make him fall apart. He groans and you look up, seeing your reflection in his helmet and it is surprisingly hot to watch yourself in his visor.
It’s been a long time since he’s had a blowjob. Even longer since it’s been so eagerly given. He groans again, twitching in your mouth when you swallow around him and your hum vibrates along the shaft. “You can take it all, can’t you?” He rasps out.
You want to. You want to make him fall apart. You hum around his length, taking him deeper until you choke. You gasp as you pull back and Mano chuckles, “best blowjob, huh?” He mocks you, reaching down to cup your cheek and you narrow your eyes, knowing you need to push yourself. You take him back into your mouth, inhaling through your nose as you push him down your throat.
He smirks under his helmet, giving you a small grunt of pleasure as your lips touch the base. He feels the hinge of your jaw work, your throat close around him. “That’s it.” He praises, “just like that. Do you like sucking my cock?” He asks. “Are you getting wet again?”
Moaning around him, you are getting wet from having the weight of his cock in your mouth. You brace yourself on his knees, using only your mouth to pleasure him. You breathe heavily through your nose and your eyes water but you don’t stop.
“Yeah, you are.” He chuckles breathlessly through the modulator and groans when you pull him just a bit deeper. “Fuck, good girl.” His fingers tighten around your jaw and his other curls into a fist on the arm of the pilot’s chair. “Do you want me to cum down your throat? Or in your aching pussy?”
You hate to do it but you pull off his cock to look up at him, “cum down my throat.” You demand, knowing your pussy is too sore to take him right now and you desperately want to hear him fall apart even if you cannot see it.
He nods once, sure that would be the answer you gave him. He’s positive that you are sore but he can help with that later on. You take him back into your mouth and he hisses in pleasure, thighs tensing and his body poised to fall apart.
He’s about to fall apart. You can tell by the way he twitches in your mouth and you moan around him, lifting your gaze to his visor again so he can look into your eyes as he cums.
His eyes meet yours, although you don’t know it. “Mesh’la.” He groans, watching as you pull your cheeks taunt and the pressure against his cock pushes him over the edge.
His cum hits the back of your throat and you whimper, swallowing hard to make sure you don’t let a drop escape but it’s impossible. He seems pent up and a few drops of cum drip down your chin.
You don’t stop sucking until every drop of his cum has been in your mouth. Din pants under his helmet, body melting into the seat even as he caresses your cheek gently. “Dank ferik.” He hisses. “I needed that.”
You lean back to look up at him, a smirk on your lips as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. “Good, huh?” You tease, wanting him to be pleased with you.
“It was good.” He nods as he reaches down to tuck his softening cock away. He chuckles. “Do you want me to grade it or just say it was good?” His tone is light as he reaches out to wipe off a drop of cum that you missed.
You huff playfully, tilting your head as you look at him, “you can just say it was good.” You promise and he snorts, nodding his head, “it was good.” You grab his hand to lick the drop of cum from the leather.
He stares at you for a moment before he moves to flip a switch. “We will have to land soon.” He grunts. “You didn’t have much fuel.”
You shift to stand up, your knees aching, and you look at the Mandalorian. “I didn’t exactly expect to be taking a long trip through space.” You snort, shaking your head as you watch him pilot your ship.
He can tell. He can also tell that you didn’t have much in the way of provisions on the ship. “We’ll stop in Navarro.” He grunts, knowing that it’s taking you out of the way, but he would prefer a planet he knows.
You shift to sit in the copilot seat, watching him pilot has you biting your lip. He’s sexy and you don’t think he even realizes it. “So, Mando, can I know your name or are we not on those terms yet?”
He considers not telling you for a moment, but then he changes his mind. Beyond being a bounty and slightly bratty, you aren’t a threat to him. You aren’t a danger to his safety. Many people know his name. “Din.” He doesn’t look at you as he tells you his name. “Din Djarin.” He flips the autopilot off and takes the controls fully, enjoying the way the Crest feels.
“Din Djarin.” You repeat and smile softly, “it suits you. Even though I can’t see your face.” You chuckles and tilt your head towards him, “you hungry? I do have some rations left over before we get to Navarro.” You walk towards the ladder, needing to use the fresher and you are hungry.
“Make sure you eat.” He glances over his shoulder before he turns back out to state into hyper space. The view always centers him. “You will need your strength. Next time I’m going to fuck you until I cum.”
“Yes sir.” You tease as you lower yourself and your legs ache but you already want him again. You suppose that’s from being without sex since you left your shitty ex - he never made you orgasm anyway - and you work on cleaning yourself up. You’re surprised but happy he didn’t cuff you again, even if it was hot during sex. You heat your meal and sit down, wondering if you’ll ever see Din’s face.
In the cockpit, Din watches the stars streak by in a constant stream through the viewport and thinks about you. He pulls the puck out from his belt and opens it, revealing a hologram picture of you and your name, chain code and the reason for the bounty. Debt was the reason he was after you, credits you defaulted on. He doesn’t see any lavish spending, nothing to suggest it on the crest after he had searched it. He wonders what your story is and why he cares.
You finish eating just as he makes his way down the ladder. You look up and tilt your head, “do you not need to sleep?” You ask, curious about how he lives and what he wants. He’s a mystery and you find that extremely attractive and dangerous.
“Why are you going to try to take the ship while I’m asleep?” He asks, knowing that you wouldn’t. He’s already figured out that you aren’t a threat. You had one blaster on the ship and the tools were worn and obviously scavenged. You huff and he chuckles. “I’m human.” He reminds you. “I eat, sleep….fuck.”
You snort, nodding in response, "I won't take the ship. You can sleep." You reassure him, knowing that he will need to rest but you have no idea what his plan is for you. Perhaps he will let you go once you are on Navarro.
“I’m fine.” He motions to the ship. “Where did you get her?” He asks, leaning against the wall that your sleeping alcove is in. “They are rare now. Smugglers mostly have them for quick runs.”
"I, uh, stole it." You confess, "from my ex. He's the one who - he's the reason why there's a puck with my name on it. He used my name to buy this, went out gambling, took out loans in my name and I had no idea. It was - it was a lot of credits and he couldn't pay it back. The creditors came after me so I ran. Stole the ship and tried to hide."
He hums quietly, jaw rocking slightly under his helmet at the shitty ex that had put you in this mess. “How many credits are you in for?” He asks and when you tell him, his stomach lurches as he whistles. “Dank ferik.”
Sighing, you rub your hands on your thighs, "yeah. He really fucked me." You snort, "which is ironic because he never did a good job at that." Tapping your fingers, you tilt your head at the Mandalorian, "that's why I'm sure my bounty is a tempting amount.
He doesn’t say anything, just watches you. Seeing the fatigue that you try to hide, the worry that simmers under the surface of your skin. You need some rest. “Sleep.” He orders after a moment. “I’ll let you know when we get to Nevarro.” He watches as you glance around the ship and he tilts his head. “Do you need to be fucked unconscious again to sleep?” He teases.
You giggle at his offer and smirk as you look at him, “you ready to go again, Mando?” You tease, shifting to stand up from your seat, walking over to him. “I want to - I want to feel all of you. Can we?” You ask, dragging your finger along his beskar.
He considers saying no for a moment. He would be vulnerable and there’s a chance something could happen. “You would have to be blindfolded.” He tells you, tilting his head down to watch your fingers as they trail over the curves of his armor.
You nod, “you can cuff me too, if you’re more comfortable.” You promise. You just want to feel all of him, kiss him. There’s something about him that makes your head spin and you can’t seem to get enough.
“Maybe later.” Din’s cock twitches under his flight suit. “Are you too sore?” He asks seriously. “I was rough on you.” While he doesn’t mind rough sex, he doesn’t want to hurt you, regardless of you being his bounty.
You shake your head, “ache a little but I can take it. I can take you.” You promise, knowing your limits. “Maybe not so rough this time, huh?” You ask, sliding your hand up towards his helmet. He flinches and you stop, “I’m not gonna take your helmet off.” You promise and he relaxes a little. You reach up to caress the metal of his helmet like you're caressing his cheek.
“I won’t be rough.” He promises as he leans into your touch. He can’t feel it, but it’s the gesture that makes his stomach twisted. “Strip down and get into your bunk.” He orders softly. “I’ll make sure we are on course and power down the lights.” He doesn’t know why he trusts you, but he does. He wants to strip down and feel every inch of your body against his.
“I’ll wait for you.” You reassure him, sliding your hand down his chest plate before you stride into the fresher to strip down and wait for him in the hull. He immediately dims the lights and you shiver in anticipation as you stand naked in the hull after he makes his way to the cockpit to check the navigation.
Din doesn’t rush as he checks and rechecks the calculations on fuel and there’s enough to orbit the planet when the ship arrives. He doesn’t like landing on autopilot. He would rather be able to react if there’s a complication and he’s never landed this ship before. When he’s satisfied, he slowly shuts down the lights on the entire ship from the control panel. They cannot be turned back on unless it’s from here, so it’s perfect.
You shiver at the cold air that hits your bare skin from the vents and you push the button to your bunk, exposing it. You shift to sit down, heart fluttering in anticipation of feeling every inch of the Mandalorian who kidnapped you.
He hears the door to your bunk slide closed right as his boots hit the ground at the bottom of the ladder. Waiting for a moment before he starts to slowly unlatch his armor from the magnetic plates holding it to his flight suit. Feeling the cold air of the Crest as takes off his gloves. Stripping down just as thoroughly as you had and stepping into the ‘fresher to clean up for you since he had been in his suit all day.
You are anxious, twisting your sheets in your fingers as you lay down and wait for Din. The lights go out moments later and you inhale deeply as the door to your bunk opens but you can’t see a thing. “Din?” You gasp, heart pounding at the thought of him touching you.
He says your name, quiet and clear without the modulator distorting his voice. It’s quiet except for the hum of the engines and sharp intake of your breath when you realize that he has removed his helmet. “I’ve- never done this before.” He confesses even as he reaches for your ankle and wraps his hands around it.
His voice is softer, not as harsh when he has the modulator on. You gasp at his touch but relax when you hear him kneel on your bunk. “I’m honoured to be your first.” You tease breathing as he caresses your calf.
He chuckles quietly, shivering slightly as his hand slides over your skin. He can feel so much more without his gloves on. Without the barrier that holds him apart from the rest of the galaxy. “Gonna show me the ropes?” He jokes as he shifts between your legs and slides his hands up to your knees and they fall open even more.
It’s impossible to not giggle, almost high from his touch. Knowing you’re the first person he’s touched like this is intoxicating. “Yes sir.” You tease, trying to guess where he is since it’s dark and you gasp when you feel him press his form against you. “Oh Maker.” You moan, already wet from just feeling his body against yours. “Can I- can I touch you?” You ask and he grunts, “yes.” Your hands fumble in the dark but eventually your fingers caress his biceps.
He shudders and groans, making you snatch your fingers away but he shakes his head and grabs your hand to bring it back. “It’s- it’s good.” He promises, voice cracking roughly. “I- let me-“ he sighs when your fingers brush against his skin again. “I want to kiss you?” He asks. “Is that okay?”
"Please." You beg breathlessly, wanting to feel his lips on yours. You caress up to his shoulders, feeling the muscles under his skin, and you are confused until you feel his breath puff over your chin. You tilt your head, searching for his lips in the darkness and when they meet yours, you can't stop the moan in your throat.
He had watched kissing in the halo vids, wondering how it felt. He had almost let his helmet be taken off to kiss Omera, but his honor hadn’t allowed it. He would have never left that little planet if he had. No one else had tempted him, until now. It’s like nothing he had ever imagined and he groans as he clumsily kisses you.
He doesn't seem to know what he's doing but you don't care. You tangle your fingers in his hair - it's short but not too short - and you eagerly show him how to kiss. Your tongue slides into his mouth and his answering groan makes you clench around nothing.
He could spend the entire trip to Nevarro kissing you. His arms slide under your back to pull you close. Following your lead and slowly becoming more confident. He’s always been a quick learner and this is no different. Your breath mingles with his as you pant into his mouth and he feels himself start to harden against your stomach
It's easy to tell he likes kissing and you are happy to show him, sliding your tongue against his, and you caress his neck as he starts to grind against you.
After long minutes, Din pulls back, kissing your lips again and again before he speaks. “I want- can I?” He shifts down slightly and he bites his lip. “I’ve never done it, but I want to use my mouth on you.”
You are surprised but you won't deny him what he wants. "Are you - if you want." You promise, "you don't have to if you don't want to." You murmur and he chuckles, nudging his nose against yours. "I want to." You smile even though he can't see it. "Go ahead, Mando."
He can’t see you but he can feel you. Kisses scattered down your body and he twitches when you moan as his tongue runs across your tits. He’s given pleasure with his fingers, his cock, but never his mouth and he wants to see what it’s like. Loving how your whimpers encourage him on until he is hovering right in front of your pussy.
His hot breath already has you squirming and he notices, grabbing your thighs. You moan when you hear him inhale deeply. “Maker. You really haven’t done this before.” You comment and then realize that might make him self conscious, “doesn’t matter. I want you to explore. Enjoy yourself.” Your words spur him on and the first swipe of his tongue makes you cry out in pleasure
This had been another favorite of his when watching holo vids in his need to release. The taste of your pussy is incredible. Hot, fragrant, tangy. He’s never thought it could be so good. He’s tasted someone’s juices off the leather of his gloves after an encounter, but it can’t compare to the source. He moans and his fingers bite into your thighs as he holds them open. Sliding his tongue through your folds again feeling the way your hips spasm in pleasure when it flicks across your clit. “Right there?” He asks, but there’s a smugness to his tone, as if he already knows and is just showing off.
You gasp when he repeats the action. He may have never done this before but he seems to know what he’s doing. You whimper when he slides his tongue through your folds, his nose pressing into your clit, and you blindly reach down to run your fingers through his hair. “You sure you haven’t done this before?” You ask breathlessly.
He chuckles as he pulls back. “Favorite holo vid to watch when I’m jerking off.” He confesses shamelessly before diving back into your cunt. His cock is throbbing but he would have to have a blaster pointed at his head to stop right now.
That makes you gush hearing that this seems to be his fantasy and you’re fulfilling it. You moan and rock your hips but he flings his arm over your stomach to keep you still. “Oh fuck. That’s - like that.” You moan when he pushes his tongue into your cunt, nose pressed against your clit.
He had always wondered if a tongue felt as good as a cock inside but he can tell you aren’t faking. He groans into your folds and loves how your juices coat his mouth and chin. Spurred on by your moans and whimpers of pleasure in the dark, your fingers tight in his hair.
Your thighs shake as he works you higher and higher. He’s eager and hungry and fuck, it makes you cry out when he slides his tongue up to suck on your clit. “Din. That - oh fuck!” You squeal, thighs closing around his head as you fall apart on his mouth.
Din moans as he feels you start to shake. The flood of heat and sweetness is the best treat that he could ever get. He laps at your quivering hole and enjoys the way you whimper and whine as you thrash in your bunk until you are begging him to quit. “Mando- please- I need-“ he pulls away with a smack of his lips and grins. “That was better than a holo vid.”
You giggle, breathless from the orgasm, and you collapse back into your bunk. Blinking into the darkness, you feel like everything is heightened by not being able to see. “That was - wow.” You mutter in disbelief.
“Do you want more?” He asks, crawling up your body and pressing his lips to yours. He loves the way you immediately kiss him back.
You cup the back of his neck, loving how his breath puffs over your mouth, and you hum, “of course I do.” You reach down blindly until your fingers wrap around his length. “I want you to cum inside me now.”
He growls softly, cock twitching in your grip as you guide him to your pussy. Both of you have the implant, he felt the impression in your hip and his own is current and functioning. Still, he notches himself at your entrance and groans. “Gonna fill you so full it takes.” He murmurs. “Fill you with my ad.”
You moan at the thought even though you assume ad means baby in Mando. You whimper when he starts to push into you and he pauses. “Don’t you dare stop.” You demand, caressing his shoulders and you feel bumps of scars from battles won.
His chuckle is filthy, rocking his hips deep and only pulling back an inch before surging deep once more. “Not gonna stop until you are full.” He grunts. “So full you’ll drip my cum for days and then I’ll fuck more into you.”
“Fuck.” You choke at his words, shocked that the stoic Mandalorian is saying these things to you. “Yesss. Keep me full of you.” You whine, grabbing the back of his neck to bring his lips to yours once more, tangling your tongue with his.
His thrusts are slower, less harsh than before but no less devastating. Maybe they are more so because he can feel everything. Your thighs tighten around his body, wrapped around him and his skin is pressed to yours. Slick with sweat as he moves. He groans because there aren’t any words right now and he can’t talk and kiss you at the same time. Almost overwhelmed by the sensations.
He’s intense but you love it. He seems to overtake your body as he thrusts into you. It’s heightened by your lack of sight. You can smell him, feel him, and hear him and it pushes you higher to your pleasure. “Shit. Din. I-” You pant into his mouth. “Please.” He begs and you nod even though he can’t see you, pushed over the edge to spiral into your orgasm, clamping down onto his cock with a cry of his name.
Your fingers are brushing up and down his back, making him shiver as he tries to thrust, working you through it. Except he’s too worked up, too excited to hold out. He rocks his hips two more times before he buries his cock deep and groans your name as he presses his face into your neck.
You moan when he twitches deep inside you. You whimper and caress his back, letting him work himself through his high as he fills you up for the first time. “Din.” You sigh, relaxing beneath him as he hovers above you and you seek out his mouth in the darkness until you can kiss him.
He hums against your lips, body relaxing and he shifts to roll you onto your side in the small alcove. “Sleep.” He murmurs when you break away from the kiss. His head tilts up and he kisses your forehead. “Instead of passing out this time.” His cock is still buried inside you, but he doesn’t pull out.
You giggle, lifting your leg over his hip as you snuggle into his chest. You’re warm and satisfied and you inhale his scent as you close your eyes, falling asleep within moments in the arms of the Mandalorian.
You don’t even stir when the alarm goes off. The proximity alarm means that the ship has arrived at Nevarro and has entered an orbiting pattern until he changes the command. He slips out of the bunk, redressing in the dark and making his way back up to the cockpit and turns on the lights again. The alcove is still dark, so you don’t wake while he brings the ship into the atmosphere and flies towards the landing site.
You blink when the soft lights come on in your bunk and you open your eyes. You gasp after a moment, knowing that Din doesn’t want you to see him, so you quickly close your eyes. “Din?” You call out and you don’t hear him. You hesitate before opening one eyes, not seeing the Mandalorian so you make your way into the hull. His cum is sticky on your thighs and you call out his name again. “In the cockpit.” His voice comes over the intercoms and you sigh in relief, making your way to the fresher to clean up. Once you’re dressed, you walk out to find the Mandalorian standing there. “Hi.” You smile softly and he tilts his helmet, “we are in Navarro.” You nod and sigh, “are you - is this where you turn me in?”
“No.” Din shakes his head once and his hand hovers over the button to lower the ramp. He had landed and the ship is powered down. “We’ll refuel and get provisions.” He tells you, watching the relief wash over your face. “You need to be taken back to Hoth for collection of the bounty.” He doesn’t care for Hoth, but he doesn’t argue specifics.
Your face falls at his words. He’s taking you in. You swallow as tears sting in your eyes. You thought last night meant that he wouldn’t take you in. “Let’s, uh, let’s go then.” You choke, walking down the ramp and you will have to think of something. Even if it means leaving your ship behind.
Din frowns under his helmet. He has assumed you would be happy that you don’t have to face your debtors right away. He follows you, not putting the binders back on. Karga runs a respectful planet now and he doesn’t want to draw attention to your situation.
You are contemplating how to make your escape and you glance around as you make your way into the town. It’s busy but not busy enough for you to escape from the Mandalorian. You thought last night meant something to him but evidently now when he’s ready to cash you in. He walks towards the cantina and your stomach grumbles with hunger that makes him turn his helmet to look at you.
He sees the hurt in your eyes and guilt twists in his stomach. “Let’s get you something to eat.” He says as he motions to the cantina. “I don’t have any credits.” You shake your head but he cuts your elbow to bring you forward. “I’ll pay.” He promises quietly, leaning in towards you. “You need your strength.” You huff and stiffen but you don’t pull away and he wonders why you are upset with him.
Following him to the cantina, you glance around as people either look at him in awe or scurry away from him. It’s interesting to watch and when you walk into the cantina, he strides over to an empty table. “Sit. Order what you want.” He demands as he takes a seat opposite you.
You sit down and he glances around the cantina as a server comes over to the table. “What do you want?” She’s a bored looking Torgruta, her blue lekku complimenting the pale pink skin and darker blue eyes. She glances from you to Mando, waiting for someone to speak. Din gestures towards you, “she’s eating.” He answers when you don’t. “Whatever your best meal is.”
You nod, watching her stride off and you sigh, tapping your fingers on the table. “Do you ever eat?” You ask, curious about a man who seems to neglect his bodily functions more than anyone you’ve ever known.
“I eat.” He tells you. “I ate before you woke up.” He had grabbed a ration bar, your last ration bar, when he had gone up to the cockpit. “I prefer to eat alone because…” he reaches up and taps his helmet. “It’s a pain in the ass to lift my helmet and take a bite every time.”
You tilt your head in understanding and then you ask, “why do you wear the helmet all the time? I have never talked to Mandalorian before. Is it part of your religion?” You inquire, curious and respectful despite him turning you in soon.
“It is.” He confirms. “We do not show our faces to the galaxy. It is a part of our Creed.” He thinks about how he had taken his helmet off for Grogu and now he needs to redeem himself. “Our strength is in our anonymity.” He leans forward. “Why did you let your ex saddle you with debt?” He asks.
You suppose it’s fair that he asks you a question so you huff, “I didn’t. He got my identification card and started taking out loans in my name. Once he had the loans, he gambled and lost it all. Couldn’t repay it and guess who they came calling to?” You scoff, “he tried to steal the Crest too but I managed to get away before it was claimed by some asshole he owed credits to.”
He nods slowly and then tilts his head. “So why do you have so few provisions? No fuel?” He asks, although he feels like he knows the answer. You had just enough fuel in the ship to run the systems for a month. Using it as a place to sleep. No real food stores. “You must earn good credits at that club?” You sigh softly and look away. “I was trying to pay off the debt.” You confess. “But it’s too much and they sent you to collect me.” You sound defeated and tired as you glance back at him. “When will you turn me in?” You ask, as the waitress sets your meal down in front of you. “Eat.” He orders, ignoring your question. “After that, we will get provisions.”
Watching him as he crosses his arm, you pick up the spoon to eat your meal. It’s good, better than anything you’ve eaten since you ran away and you moan at the taste. He shifts slightly and you smile softly, “so there’s no Mrs. Djarin?” You assume not since he fucked you but you find men have no morals.
Din tilts his head. “No.” He says after a moment. “I do not have a riduur. If I did, I would not have touched you.” He believes in the vows you take with a partner. Watching you eat, he realizes that you probably have not been eating well since you went on the run. The server comes back and he offers more credits. “Another meal to go and another drink.” He nods towards the gamoran ale you had nearly finished. “She’s thirsty.”
He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met. You swallow harshly and tilt your head at him after you set your drink down. “Are you always so accommodating with your bounties?” You smirk and lean back in your seat.
“Most of my bounties don’t cooperate.” He reminds you, a smirk you can’t see under his helmet but you can hear it in his voice. He leans back as well and watches your eyes darken slightly as they drift over his body. “You decided to be a good girl for me.”
You smirk, “you do give good incentives, Mando.” You wink and glance around the cantina. “I guess it was all for nothing though, huh?” You snort and he sighs, shaking his head.
He knows you expect him to just let you go, but he can’t do that. He’s expected to bring you back. They bring the extra meal, packaged up and your drink. “Drink up.” He tells you as he stands and takes the package. “We have a few more stops to make.”
“Okay.” You murmur, pulling back from him since he seems set on cashing you in. You sigh and drink the ale, slamming the cup down on the table. “Let’s go.” You huff, standing up with a shake of your head
The trip to the market is made in uncomfortable silence. Din doesn’t say anything and you are pouting. He buys enough provisions for two people for at least a month. Ignoring the questioning glances as he hands over credits and carries packages. “Back to the ship.” He tells you. “I’ve got one more errand but he’s coming to me.”
You sigh, knowing your fate is closer as you make your way back to the Crest with the supplies. He carries them easily and you hate how that turns you on to watch him as he shows his strength. You’ve felt those muscles in the dark and when he turns his visor towards you, you look away.
“Mando!” The booming voice comes from outside the ship and he smiles under his helmet as the impressive robes that Karga has taken to wearing appears before the man himself does. “You found yourself another Razor Crest!” Greeting him like a friend, Karga comes up the ramp with his arms extended. “The last time I was on a ship with you, the Beskar saved me.” He reminds Din with a hearty laugh, even though at the time, they had been adversaries. “What brings you to Nevarro? Have you seen the changes? We are thriving, I tell you.” Din chuckles. “Business.” He admits, although he had said as much on the holo he had sent Karga before landing. He turns his helmet towards you and introduces you. “This is Governor Karga.” He tells you. “Former head of the Bounty Hunter’s Guild on Nevarro.”
Your eyes widen and you reach out to shake the hand of the Governor. “Nice to meet you.” You say and then glance at Din, wondering what this is all about. You’re confused and concerned - wondering what this has to do with him dropping you off for your bounty.
Karga’s smile turns knowing and he bends over your hand and kisses the back of it. “What a beautiful lady!” He coos. “We are delighted you visited our planet.” Din huffs slightly, annoyed that the other man is flirting with you, although Karga always fancied himself as a ladies man. “Do you have it?” He interrupts, making Karga turn his attention back to him. “I do.” He lets go of your hand to reach for a large pouch from one of the pockets of his voluminous robes. “This is quite the-“ Din reaches for the pouch, “thank you.” He tells the governor, cutting him off because he doesn’t want the comments. Karga seems off kilter for a moment and then glances back at you. “Of course.” He nods. “Remember my offer.” He tells Mando. “We would love to have you right here, calling Navarro home.” Mando nods once and reaches out to shake Karga’s hand. “Thanks, but I have a bounty to complete.”
Even more confused, you look between the two men and frown, nodding when Karga bids you goodbye. “May the force be with you.” He says and you watch him walk off. “Din-” You start but he shakes his head, “don’t. Let’s go.” You swallow harshly and nod, knowing you have to accept your mistakes
It takes a few minutes to store everything he had bought and soon he’s up in the cockpit with you in the seat behind him. The Crest is full of fuel and he hums as he starts the engines. “This machine is perfect.” He mutters to himself as he lifts off.
You sit there, biting your lip as you watch him punch in the coordinates. You wonder if you could change his mind about turning you in so you stand up, walking over to him, and you straddle his lap. “What-” You fumble to reach down for his belt. “Let me - I want to show you why you should keep me around.” You demand and Din reaches down to stop your hands. “Stop.” He demands and you shake your head, “I can be good. I promise. I can show you.” You try to move your hands again but he growls, “stop.” He grabs your wrists and you cry, managing to release your wrists from his hold. You fall off his lap, stumbling as you make your way to the ladder as tears steam down your cheeks. “You’re a bastard, Djarin.” You choke, climbing down the ladder so you can throw yourself in your bunk.
Din sighs, knowing that you hate him right now, but he doesn’t follow you. Instead he checks the coordinates and watches as the ship jumps into hyperspace. Hoth will be in the viewscreen in just an hour and he can take care of his business and get off the frozen planet.
You curl into your sheets, realizing this could be your last moments of freedom so you inhale deeply and try to catch your breath after sobbing. You feel betrayed and a little used but you know deep down you knew what you were getting into by fucking the Mandalorian. You wanted him and you like him. That’s what makes this so painful.
He hears your crying and it tugs at his heart. Making him clench his fists to prevent himself from getting up and going down to your bunk. He needs to do this. He can’t let you distract him. He sighs again as he leans back and thinks about the kid. Wondering if he would like you. He feels like he would.
You’re not sure how much time passes. You pass out from exhausting yourself from your cries and you aren’t sure when but you feel the ship land. You start to panic, wiping your eyes, and you wonder if you can outrun the Mandalorian. You shuffle from your bunk, waiting until you hear the Crest land, and as soon as you can, you press the button to open the ramp. You bounce from one foot to the other as it lowers until you can finally run down it, glancing around and you shiver at the freezing temperature.
“Dank ferik!” Din sees you run across the ice an he’s quickly throwing switches to shut the engines down before racing down the ladder and off the ship after you. Shouting your name is useless as the wind howls around him and he can see that you are already slowing down because of how cold it is. However, that’s not what worries him, the last time he was here, he had encountered a huge creature under the ice and he doesn’t have his rifle this time. Instead of running, Mando activates the jet pack on his back and launches himself into the air, shooting out across the distance between you faster than he could run. His heart is hammering in his chest, hoping that you don’t call the creature to you by the vibration of your feet over the ice. The roar of the jet pack is not even heard over the wind, so he knows you don’t hear him coming when you look back and don’t see him running behind you, because he’s already dropping down in front of you to grab you when you run into him.
You scream when you bump into him, the wind whipping your face. “Let go of me, you bastard!” You cry when his arm wraps around you and you struggle against him. “I’m sorry!” He shouts over the wind and you bang on his chest plate until you slump against him. Defeated. You sob and he wastes no time wrapping his arm around your legs, lifting you over his shoulder. You hang limping over his form, resigned to your fate.
He doesn’t land and walk to the cluster of buildings that look like alien pods on the frozen landscape. You are shivering over his shoulder so he speeds up slightly, wanting to get you inside. It was stupid for you to run, but he doesn’t blame you. This is the only way this will be resolved and you won’t have anyone else coming for you. When he lands, you whimper as he sets you on your feet but you don’t resist as he clinks the binder cuffs around your wrists again. “You bastard.” You murmur and he ignores it as he guides you towards the door where the client is waiting.
You are shivering as he escorts you into the cantina, your hands cuffed together as he holds you by the upper arm. “Ah, Mando. I knew you’d be able to find her.” The man stands up to greet Din and you curl your lip, “you know I didn’t owe you the money. It was my asshole ex.” You hiss, knowing that this is the moment your heart gets broken by the Mandalorian.
“Doesn’t matter.” His greedy eyes slide over you with a lecherous look in them as the client smirks. “The debt is under your chain code, belongs to you in every way.” He licks his lips as he chuckles. “But maybe we can work out a way for you to work off the debt for me.” Mando tenses for a moment, angry at the implication, before he pulls out the large pouch and tosses it to the other man. The portly human is startled and fumbles, nearly dropping the pouch as he frowns. “What’s this?” He asks, “I’m supposed to pay you for bringing her to me .” Mando grunts, “her debt.” He tells the client stiffly. “She had the credits on her when I found her.” He lies. “I brought her in like you wanted, but she’s paying you.” The man huffs and starts to sputter out an excuse to not honor the payment, but Mando’s hand moves to rest on his blaster, his intention clear. “Her debt is paid.” The bounty hunter tells him bluntly. “Erase the bounty and the alert on her chain code. You have your credits, she goes free.” It’s not a suggestion, it’s a demand with a threat underneath. You are free from being hunted by anyone else or he will kill the bastard right here.
Your eyes are wide at his actions. He just paid off your debt. You gasp and glance between him and the other man. Din’s fingers flex on his blaster and you almost collapse in relief when the man spits out “fine” when he knows he cannot fight a Mandalorian. “Erase it. Now.” Din demands, not willing to leave until the job is completed. The man fumbles, pulling out his comm to delete the bounty and clear your name. “It’s done.” He promises and Din tilts his helmet to confirm. “Good. Oh and give her your cape.” He orders and the man frowns, “my cape? Now you’re just being ridiculous.” He scoffs and Din grips his blaster. “Fine. Fine. Take it.” He demands, shrugging it off and tosses it at you. You wrap it around yourself and Din nods, “let’s go cyar’ika.” You are pissed at him for not telling you what his plan was but you follow him out into the cold.
He stops along the walkway, feeling your eyes on him but he doesn’t explain. A droid ferry stops and Din tosses him a credit, telling him where the Crest is located and he holds his hand out to help you into the hovercraft. You stare at him for a second until the droid beeps that he won’t wait forever and you climb in. Din hops in after you and settles back against the seat as the taxi shoots out across the ice.
You stare out across the ice, the wind is bitter on your face and you pull the cape tighter around you. Din seems to notice and unclips his own cape, putting it over your shoulders. “Thank you.” You murmur and tears sting in your eyes as it smells like him when you nudge your face into it.
The rest of the ride is silent until the droid pulls to a stop in front of the ship. Din hops out and reaches for your hand but you ignore it as you climb out of the speeder awkwardly. He sighs but doesn’t say anything, just nodding to the droid before turning and walking up the ramp into the ship behind you. He notices you immediately go to your bunk and sighs again as he closes the hatch and wonders if you will ever talk to him again. It shouldn’t matter, but it does and your silence hurts worse than he had imagined as he climbs the ladder into the cockpit and quickly fires up the engines to leave Hoth.
You aren’t sure what happens next but as you depart Hoth you try to make sense of it all. He had omitted telling you what his plan was, letting you think he was turning you in. You sigh and after too long with your thoughts, you make your way up to the cockpit where he is. “Why’d you do it? Why didn’t you turn me in and take the credits?” You question with his back turned to you as he looks into hyperspace.
“Because the only thing that you are guilty of is trusting the wrong person.” Din admits but he didn’t turn around to face you. You huff quietly and he chuckles dryly. “You wonder why I didn’t tell you what I was going to do.” He guesses, but he knows that’s what’s on your mind. “I’ve never not turned in a bounty.” He tells you. “He needed to believe that you believed that you were being turned in. Otherwise, he would have never accepted the credits.”
You frown, “that’s - that’s ridiculous. Are you saying I couldn’t act? Fuck you, Djarin. You made me think - I thought after the time in the bunk that we - I thought you trusted me enough - apparently not. You didn’t trust me enough to not let me think you were turning me in and the sex between us meant nothing. Did it mean nothing to you?” You ask, wondering now if he didn’t turn you in because he felt guilty for sleeping with you.
Din slowly turns the chair around to face you. Watching you as your chest heaves and he thinks you’re beautiful when you’re angry. “It meant something.” He admits, voice low but he knows you hear him when your face softens just slightly. He doesn’t say anything else, just waits to see what you will say, or do.
Shaking your head, you shift from one foot to the other for a moment until you stride forward, he turns to face you, surprised. You straddle him, cupping his helmet and his hands come up to grip your wrists. “I’m not going to - I just-” You lean forward to press your forehead to his helmet, your eyes level with his visor. “You’re insane, Djarin and I - I cannot thank you enough. You saved me. Thank you.” You declare, staring at your reflection in the visor.
“He wasn’t going to touch you.” He promises, his voice dipping down into a dangerous register. One that makes you smirk as you lean back in his lap. Din slowly lets go of your wrists and puts his hands on the arms of the chair. “You’re free to do what you want.”
It’s impossible to not want him now that you know he’s saved you and grind down onto him. “I am now. Thanks to you.” You murmur, sliding your hands down to his chest plate. “I wish I could see your face.” You say, lost in thought.
Guilt over breaking his creed is mixed with the knowledge that he is already dar’manda. Removing it once more is not any different than when he removed his helmet for the kid. He grunts as you grind down on him, cock twitching as he starts to harden. “So take it off.” He tells you quietly, ignoring the way his stomach churns with fear, with anxiety. You deserve this. .
You pause for a moment, needing to know that he's serious, and he takes your hands to place them on the latches of his helmet. You inhale shakily, slowly unlocking them until you lift it. You gasp when the helmet is off his head and you see his face. "Maker." You murmur, tracing every feature, and he averts his eyes like he's self conscious. "You're gorgeous."
He doubts that, his eyes sliding back to your face to see it without the visor between you. He swallows, feeling more vulnerable than when he had been in your bunk with you, but he doesn’t reach for the helmet again. Letting you look like you had wanted to. The air has shifted and he doesn’t know what you will do next.
You lower the helmet to your lap, letting it balance between you, and you reach up to cup his cheeks, "I mean it." You lean in, eyes open until your lips press against his.
Din groans against your lips and his arms wrap around you. Not dragging you closer but just holding you as your tongue slides against his. His own eyes stay open, watching you as he kisses you back.
You moan, tangling your fingers in his hair, and you whimper when he groans in response. He's pressing into your core and you grind down, wanting to hear him groan again.
Din grabs the helmet and sets it aside so he can pull you closer. Groaning your name into your mouth while he rocks his hardening cock up. Loving how you are writhing on his lap. You break off the kiss to moan and he leans in to kiss your throat. “Forgive me for not telling you yet?” He asks, hands squeezing your ass.
You look into his dark eyes, seeing the raw emotion there. It’s obvious he’s never learned to conceal how he feels behind the visor. You nod, “I forgive you. You saved me.” You murmur, leaning in to press your lips to his again, pressing your entire form against him now that there’s nothing holding you back.
He kisses you back fiercely, his tongue tangling with yours and there’s a hunger that is unmatched. Running his hands over your body like he can’t touch enough of you. “Fuck.” He pants. “I want you.” It’s a request, you can turn him down, you can deny him, but he wants you. He wants you now that you know you owe him nothing or that you’re not trying to bargain your freedom with your body.
“I need you.” You respond, kissing his jaw and he groans at the contact. “Now.” You peck his lips and shift off his lap, working on your pants to push them down to your ankles so you can straddle him again. Your fingers work on undoing his flight suit until you reach in and wrap your fingers around his hardening cock.
Din groans and twitches against your palm. “Dank ferik.” He hisses, leaning in and biting down on your shoulder through your shirt. “Take it.” He grunts, loving how you immediately shift to put him in position.
You shift to nudge him against your entrance, slowly sinking down onto his cock with a low moan, and once your thighs meet his, you surge forward to press your lips to his.
He loves how hot your pussy is. How tight you grip him as you settle down on his lap. He pulls back and caresses your cheek. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs. “Ride me. I want to see you without my helmet on.”
It’s impossible to deny his request so you start to rock your hip, riding his cock that stretches you out. “Fuck.” You gasp, pressing your lips to his again while you tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him close as you grind against him.
It’s not rushed but he can’t say that is the slow rhythmic pace that had been set in your bunk in the dark. This is something a little more free, needy. “Maker.” He hisses, eyes rolling back when you clench around him.
You feel free and you want to celebrate that as you rock on top of him, “shit. Din. You feel - you feel so good inside me.” You moan, rocking down onto him and you press your forehead against his, rocking a little faster against him.
He groans in agreement and grips your hips tightly. He doesn’t want to take over, wants you to be in control over this. To fuck him. “You- you look so good on my cock.” He pants out, opening his eyes and looking down to watch you ride him.
You smirk, “I love seeing your face. Your expressions are so free.” You confess, “you look - you look like you are enjoying every second.” You slide your hands along his chest plate even though he can’t feel you.
“What’s not to enjoy?” He grunts, ignoring the way he wants to hide his face again. Guilty for once again breaking his creed. “You are amazing.”
You chuckle breathlessly, “so are you, baby.” You smirk and lean in to kiss along his jaw, “Maker.” You hiss when you find the right angle, so close to falling apart. You rock on his lap, your clit pressing just right against his beskar. “Din. I’m gonna-” You choke and he growls, “do it, mesh’la.” You whine and rock your hips, falling apart within moments with a squeal.
Now he takes over. You collapse against his chest plate, your lips against his. Din rocks his hips up, thrusting up into your spasming walls as he holds you close. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He grunts. “So wet, so tight.” He hisses when you clench down hard around him again.
You gasp, biting down on his ear as you lean in closer, “cum for me, baby.” You plead, needing to feel it and you are trying to grind down onto him but he’s gripping you so tight.
Din groans your name, shuddering as he feels your hand on his face. He thrusts up into you once, twice more before he is throbbing inside you.
You press kisses to his face as he pulses inside you, filling you up, and you rest your forehead against his when he relaxes and his grip turns into caresses. “So good.” You murmur, pecking his lips, “I don’t - it’s never been like this before.”
He hums softly. “You’ve never been with me.” He teases, although he knows what you mean. “I’ve set a course back for the planet I found you on.” He admits and you pull back to shoot him a confused frown. “My ship is there.” He explains.
“Oh.” You relax a little, “are you planning to make your own way?” You ask, curious and hesitant that he’s going to leave you there and continue on his journey.
He can see the questions in your eyes and he tilts his head slightly, the same way he would have if he had his helmet on. “That depends on you.” He murmurs quietly. “You were bargaining for your freedom and you have that now.” He points out. “If you want to go somewhere else, I need my ship.”
“I wanted my freedom from the bounty. From my ex’s mistakes. I don’t want - I don’t want to be free of you. I’d be happy to follow you if you want me to.” You murmur, caressing his cheek and waiting anxiously for his answer.
His cock is still buried inside you, warm and cozy and you are offering him more. Time with you, space outside a star fighter. You. That’s the part that he’s really interested in. Someone beside him, the hole the kid left can’t be filled but he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. “I have a dangerous life.” He warns you, wanting to be fair to you. “I have to go to Mandalore. To redeem myself.”
You frown, “redeem yourself? Why?” You question, cupping his jaw, and he sighs. “I am dar'manda.” He reveals and you tilt your head in question. “Shunned.” He clarifies and you scoff, “Maker, why-?” He grips your wrists to lower them from his face, “I shouldn’t reveal my face. It’s against my creed.” He declares and your jaw drops, “but you - right now. Did I - have I made this worse?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I had already removed it.” He murmurs softly. “My- the kid.” You don’t understand and he sighs. “I had another bounty. A kid. Little monster.” His eyes are sad and still light up at the thought of him. “I turned him in too. But I went back for him. The Empire was hunting him because he’s-“ he swallows. “He’s a Jedi.” Your eyes widen and he nods. “He left to be with his people and I- I couldn’t let him go without-“
You nod in understanding, “so you’ll go to Mandalore and redeem yourself then you will not remove the helmet again?” You inquire and he nods, “I won’t.” You pout, “that really is sad for the galaxy. Hiding that gorgeous face behind a helmet.” You smirk and tap his nose, “but I understand. It’s your religion. You need to do it.”
“Still want to come along?” He asks seriously, knowing that he would be hurt if you said no. But he had paid your debt knowing you could walk away. He hadn’t done it to keep you a prisoner. Or to get your ship. He had done it because, like the kid, he had felt something for you.
You smirk, “I’d be a fool not to, baby.” You slide your hands down to press your palms on his chest. “I’ve always liked adventure. I was escaping my bounty, not my life. I want to follow you.” You promise, knowing he could tell you not to follow him but you want to.
“We would have to use your ship.” He warns and you grin at him. “You do want my ship.” You tease and he snorts. “Of course I do. The things I can do with this ship are amazing.” His smirk is a little cocky and a lot of confidence. “Just need to install a weapons locker and improve the ground security.”
You playfully roll your eyes, “already trying to change my ship?” You tease, slapping his chest and he grabs your hand, lifting it to kiss your palm. “And in the meantime, we could have lots of helmetless sex. You know, since technically you haven’t redeemed yourself yet.” You trail off, “unless you no longer wish to do that?” You don’t want to push him if he regrets showing you his face.
Din chuckles, bringing your hand to his face and closes his eyes as he feels your fingers brush over his skin. “I don’t think I would want to put my helmet back on with you.” He knows he has to, but he didn’t want to. “Not right now. When I redeem myself, yes, but not now.”
You nod in understanding, “whatever makes you comfortable.” You promise, knowing his creed is so important to him. “We have some time. We can take advantage of your status until then.” You smirk and you feel him start to harden inside you. “Like now.” You giggle, squealing when he leans in to kiss you.
****
You watch as Din walks into the waters, your heart pounding as he finally redeems himself. He kissed you before he put his helmet back on and you are grieving seeing his face but you know this is what he wants. To redeem himself and his creed. You respect that and you watch him eagerly.
Din takes another step forward and drops down into the abyss. “Din!” Your scream echoes off the stone and Bo Katan waits just another moment before she is diving into the water to save him. Submerged and without his Rising Phoenix, the weight of his Beskar is dragging him down further. He struggles but a part of him wonders if this is fate judging him. Right before his vision goes dark, a watery gargle of your name comes out of his mouth.
You fall to your knees, tears in your eyes as you worry he’s gone forever. Your hand on your chest as your heart pounds until moments later when you see Din and Bo Katan break free of the water. “Oh Maker.” You choke in relief.
He’s unconscious when Bo lays him down and her own chest heaves as she waits for him to sputter up water. It would be horribly ironic to have to remove his helmet again to save his life. After a long, tense moment, Din chokes up water, making you cry out in surprise as he coughs while you rush over to his side.
You want to pull his helmet off but you can’t, caressing the beskar, you look down at him and when he surges forward to sit up, you cry out. “Din. Oh Maker.” You choke, wrapping your arms around him, “are you okay?”
One wet, gloved hand reaches for your arm, squeezing it tight. “Witness.” Din isn’t speaking to you, but to Bo Katan. She’s removed her helmet and her eyes widen in understanding. “Witness.” He demands again through a cough and she nods. “What-“ you start to pull away but Din doesn’t let you pull back far enough. “The last thing that I thought about before I blacked out was that I wanted to see your face one more time without the visor between us.” He rasps out, his voice rough from choking and coughing. “If you are my riduur, my wife, I can remove my helmet with you in private.” He murmurs softly. “I would still be following my creed because we would be one.”
Your eyes widen at the confession and you frown, "you want me to - to be your wife?" You ask and he nods, "I do." You glance at Bo Katan who stares at you until you fix your focus back on Din. "Yes." You blurt out, "I want - I want to be yours. I want to marry you." A grin appears on your lips and you nod.
Din nods once and a few moments later, he is on his feet. Soaked to the bone and barely recovered from nearly drowning, but he takes your hand. “Mandalorian vows are simple.” He tells you. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” He says softly. "We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."
You frown as you fumble through the words in Mando’a with help from him until you repeat them in basic. You are now his and you grin, reaching for his wet hands to squeeze him. “I love you, Din.” You promise, knowing this journey has been a rollercoaster but you know you are where you belong.
“I love you, Mesh’la.” Bo smirks slightly at his affection since she’s only known him as stoic and slightly grumpy. He leans in and presses his helmet against your forehead. “Later, when we are alone, I can reveal my face again.”
You nod, glad that you will be able to kiss him when you are alone. “Later.” You agree to his promise and sigh, caressing his beskar. You shift to stand up, taking his hand when he grunts and gets to his feet. “Congratulations.” Bo Katan smirks and you smile, “thank you. We’ve been on a journey but I have a feeling the adventure is only beginning.” You smirk at Din and he chuckles, knowing that life with you will be exciting.
Posting on back to back days?! Who am I!? I've gotten some serious love recently for this series and I am BEYOND grateful! If anyone else wants to be tagged in this story, let me know!
Chapter Summary: Joel starts thinking about the future and what the past could've been. While your past catches up to you with a surprise reunion!
WC: 3700ish
Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Oral, Roughish, yeah its all the things--Joel and the reader are like two horny teens, also badly proofread!
TBAH Masterlist
It was one of those perfect summer days. As soon as you felt the heat, a breeze would follow, instantly cooling you down. Since you were babysitting, you couldn’t help but take advantage and be outside with your charges, Benji and Sophie.
You had recently traded for a few seedlings, wanting to plant a flower border around the house and thought this would be a perfect project for the kids. Benji furrowed his brow in concentration while he gingerly blanketed a seed with dirt and patted it down with his tiny hand.
“Good job! Now Sophie, you can water the plants.” You helped the little girl tip the watering pail and watch the soil darken until there was just enough moisture.
Benji looked up at you, a smudge of dirt on his nose. “When will they grow?”
“In a couple weeks. Everytime you come to Uncle Joel’s house, you’ll see them getting bigger and bigger.”
“Can I come too?” Sophie asked, jumping up and down, her toes wiggling in the soil.
You smiled down at the little girl. “Of course. Ok, let’s wash up and have a picnic under the cherry blossom tree.”
A few hours later, Joel approached the house to find you leaning against the cherry blossom tree with Benji and Sophie tucked under your arms–all three of you sound asleep. He walked into the front yard and surveyed the scene before him. The remnants of a picnic lunch scattered on a blanket along with several picture books and toys.
It was then that a sharp pang struck his chest as images of Sarah came flooding back. Sarah was always in the back of his mind but summers were particularly hard since she was born in July. He would think of the woman she would have been today if she were still alive–hopefully happily married with children of her own.
On late summer evenings, he swore sometimes, he would hear her newborn cries coming from the other room, needing to be fed or changed or just held. Then he would wake up to silence.
Having you in his life, there were times when he wondered how you would have gotten along with Sarah. He saw how close you and Ellie were. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you would make an incredible mother with your gentle compassionate nature and strong will.
To have met you so late in life–time had played a cruel joke on him. In another world, another lifetime, he fantasized about what could have been. What a life would look like.
Joel bounded down the stairs in the morning only to be greeted by his girls all chatting happily at the kitchen table.
After grabbing his mug of coffee, he made his way around the table–kissing the top of Sarah’s head, ruffling Ellie’s hair while she tried to playfully dodge him before sitting next to you.
“Good Morning,” he said, tugging your chair closer and kissing you deeply.
Sarah and Ellie made faces and cover their eyes. “Ew! Can you please not do that where people are eating,” Sarah whined.
“How do you think you got here?” Joel teased, making his teenager gag.
“Joel,” you playfully scolded.
Joel laughed and bent down to plant a kiss on your burgeoning belly bump. “Good Morning to you too,” he whispered and placed his hand on your stomach, feeling the slightest kick against his palm.
“They know their daddy’s voice.” You smiled and discreetly took Joel’s mug to sneak a sip of coffee.
“Hey, you know the rules.” He arched his brow and took his cup back. “No coffee until the baby comes. Don’t want a newborn hyped up on caffeine.”
“I just needed one sip. Besides, the doctor said pregnant women can have less than 200 milligrams of coffee a day. That’s a 12 ounce cup.”
Joel snorted and squeezed your thigh, relinquishing his cup to you. “Junkie,” he teased with a wink while going to grab another cup.
“There’s a really great new coffee place we can check out after school when Dad won’t be around,” Sarah said.
“We’ll get you your fix,” Ellie chimed in.
“Great! I can’t fight all three of you,” Joel groaned and went to talk to your baby bump. “When you’re born, little one. Ya’ gotta help me out here and be on my side.”
There would be soccer games. Family vacations to the beach. Camping. Movie Nights. But that life was just a cruel mirage in the middle of a lifeless desert.
Completely lost in thought, he didn’t notice you were awake. “Hey,” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the children. “What’s with the face? You’re either thinking really hard or Ellie was right and you do use adult diapers.”
Joel quietly chuckled and shook his head. “It’s nothing. How was your day?”
You sighed, “Exhausting but fun.”
“Ready to get these kiddos home and then I can put you to bed?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Later on that evening, a shirtless Joel sat down in between your legs while you massaged his shoulders. “I still can’t believe you carried both the kids all the way to the lodge.”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time and the kids loved it—oh yeah right there, right there…right there.” He threw his head back and groaned while you worked out a particularly nasty knot.
You dug your thumbs into his flesh in a circular motion until the muscle yielded to your touch. “How’s that?”
“Amazing,” he moaned. “Harder.”
You bit your lip, trying to ignore the heat building deep inside your belly and focus on the task at hand. Truth be told, watching Joel balancing both kids with his strong arms and broad shoulders had made you uncomfortably wet all afternoon.
You also noticed that you weren’t the only one swooning over Joel’s rugged handsome looks and impressive strength. “Did you see the look Sophie’s mom gave you?”
“Hadn’t noticed.”
“When you came into the lodge with Sophie on your shoulders, I thought she was going to drop her panties right there,” you grumbled.
Joel laughed and glanced over his shoulder. “Jealous?”
You scoffed, “Me? Jealous? Please.” As your fingers continued their work, you muttered about how ridiculous the notion of being jealous was until Joel turned and took your wrist, effectively tugging you down onto his lap.
“You know I only have eyes for you, baby,” he purred and leaned down to fiercely kiss you, his tongue parting the seam of your lips.
Feeling another pair of eyes on him, he glanced up and nearly jumped back in fear when he saw a ceramic gnome smoking a corn cob pipe frowning at him on the floor. “Jesus! What is that?”
“Oh that’s just Groel,” you said nonchalantly.
Joel got up and walked over to the ceramic figurine currently leering at him. “Groel?”
“Yeah, he’s a gift from Eugene. He said that gnomes brought good luck, protection, fertility, and abundance.”
“Uh-huh, did you check to see if Eugene’s pupils were dilated when he told you all this?” Joel asked.
“Don’t joke. It was a sweet gesture.”
“Well, you and I have differing opinions when it comes to sweet gestures.” Joel made a face, inspecting the gnome before turning him around so he wouldn’t have to look at the creature’s face. “Where did the name ‘Groel’ come from?”
You ignored his question and got up, heading straight to your book nook to find something to read for that evening. Joel called your name again and went over to the nook, blocking where you were looking with his body. “Where did the name come from?”
“The kids came up with it. It stands for—” you bit your lip to hold back a laugh. “--Grumpy Joel.”
Joel crossed his arms and gave you an accusatory stare while you cackled. “That’s terribly clever of those kids to come up with all by themselves.”
“Well, I may have helped them out with the name.” You stepped closer to him and ran your fingers over his forearms, encouraging him to take you into his embrace.
Joel wrapped his arms around your lower back, his fingers teasing the hem of your shirt. “Ellie’s been a bad influence on you.”
The rumble of his voice vibrated right through you. “Awww I’m sorry,” you cooed and snuggled into his chest, teasing him with kisses and playful bites on every inch of flesh your lips could reach. “Want me to finish that massage, Grumpy Joel?”
“Grumpy? I’ll show you grumpy.” In a flash, Joel scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder.
“Joel!” You squealed in surprise. “Be careful! Your back! Your knees!”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t be worrying about that right now, baby,” he teased, delivering a smack to your ass as he carried you up the stairs.
The next morning a sheen of sweat covered your body. Your fingers pinched your nipples while you threw your head back in ecstasy. Joel’s hands dug into the flesh of your hips, encouraging you to grind against him.
You were hesitant when Joel first asked you to sit on his face, afraid you would squash him, but after a couple of mind blowing, blackout orgasmic sessions, it quickly became your favorite activity. The desire you both felt for one another was unlike anything either of you had ever experienced. Joel wanted to consume you and you were all too eager to give him everything.
You gripped Joel’s hair and pressed down harder, chasing that familiar pull of pleasure while you rode his face. His nose hit your clit with every rock of your hips.
“Oh God! I’m so close,” you breathed.
Joel moaned in pleasure and opened his mouth wide, his tongue out lapping at your juices. The noises coming from both of you were downright obscene–all panting, growling, primal wails.
Your thighs began to tremble and you clung to the swaying headboard for support. One final swipe of his tongue was your undoing. You shrieked his name and bit down onto the headboard to muffle your screams.
Thanks to Joel’s incredible oral skills, the wooden headboard was now decorated with small indents from your teeth.
Joel licked you through your orgasm, his face soaked. The man was the very definition of pussy drunk. The taste of you made him feral.
As soon as you moved off him, he sat up and arranged your body so you were now on all fours. Joel moved behind you and roughly gripped your hips, pulling you back to him. A whimper escaped your lips. Your body still trembling from the intensity of your previous orgasm.
“Shhhh, I got you,” Joel cooed, planting delicate kisses down your spine, soothing you. He grabbed your ass and spread your cheeks, his mouth watering. A dribble of spit left his mouth and landed on your puckered hole. He traced his thumb around the rim.
Someday, he would claim your ass, he would claim every hole that belonged to you. You were all too willing to comply. Your desire for Joel knew no boundaries.
“Please,” you mewled and reached back around for his hand, needing him to ground you. “Fuck me. I need it.”
Joel took hold of your hand, interlocking your fingers while with his other hand guided his cock to your weeping cunt and dragged it against your slit. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes! Please!” You looked over your shoulder at him, eyes hooded with lust and desperation.
Joel smirked and tapped the head of his cock against your swollen clit. “How bad do you want it?”
“So bad.” You shivered, both of your holes clenching around nothing.
“I’m not sure I believe you,” Joel tutted.
“Joeeeel,” you whined, almost close to cumming again from how he was lazily massaging your tender bundle of nerves.
“I’m sorry, darling.” He let go of your hand and grabbed your hair, pulling you up so your back was now flush with his chest. “I think you’re going to have to beg for it,” he whispered before biting your ear lobe.
“Please Joel! Please! I need your big fat cock to fu–”
“Hey, Joel!” Tommy shouted from the foyer. The sound of the door slamming shut followed by footsteps caused you and Joel to both freeze. “Brother, you up there?”
“Shit,” Joel mumbled, being too preoccupied with your sexual escapades, neither he nor you heard Tommy coming into the house.
Tommy’s footsteps began to make their way up the stairs and were coming closer.
“Hold on a sec! Don’t come—” But Joel was cut off when his brother opened the bedroom door.
“Woah!” Tommy quickly shielded his eyes while you managed to duck under the covers. “Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude.”
Joel grabbed a pillow and strategically placed it over his groin. “What the fuck, man! Ever heard of knocking?!”
“Sorry! Y’all really need to lock the door when you’re…uh…busy.” Tommy turned so that his back was facing away. “I wouldn’t have interrupted its just that Jesse and I need someone to do patrol. Greg has a bad summer cold and the man can barely walk. Bonnie’s taking care of him.”
“What’s that have to do with me?” Joel snapped.
“You volunteered to be a patrol backup, in case we needed someone to fill in.”
With the blood going back to his brain, Joel remembered that he had spoken up at the last council session about patrol alternates in case of emergencies. “Damn, that’s right,” he groaned in frustration.
“So ya’ coming?” Tommy asked, biting back a laugh at his double entendre. Joel grabbed another pillow and threw it at him, not amused, but even you couldn’t help but snicker at the choice of words.
“Yeah. I’ll meet you at the stables in 10. Wait! 20. Give me 20 minutes.”
Before leaving, Tommy called your name, apologizing to you one last time.
Poking your arm out from your hiding spot, you blindly waved. “Bye Tommy.”
“Coast is clear,” Joel said.
You poked your head out from under the covers and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Actually I need to get up anyway.” You sighed and sat up, stretching your arms above your head. “I’m supposed to do a cooking lesson at the elementary school.” You sniffed the air and made a face. “But first I need to shower. Can’t be showing a group of kids how to bake while smelling like sex.”
Joel laughed, “I better shower myself.” He helped you up off the bed and raked his eyes over your naked form. “Guess I have to join you.”
You bit your lip and clenched your thighs together. “20 minutes you said? Think we can finish what we started?”
Joel pressed his forehead to yours. “Oh, I guarantee it.”
Several hours later, the sunlight peered through the leaves, highlighting the trail made by countless number of Jackson’s horses clopping their hooves on the ground. Joel’s senses were heightened--his eyes and ears on the lookout for signs of life–be it human or fungi when Tommy sidled up next to him.
“Sorry about this morning. Didn’t mean to cock block ya’. Hope your balls aren’t too blue,” Tommy said with a chuckle.
Joel rolled his eyes before warning his younger brother, “Just remember that payback is a bitch.”
Tommy and Joel pulled off to a shady patch of land by a stream to let the horses rest up and get some water.
Tommy reached into his pack for the homemade granola that you insisted he and Joel take with them for patrol. “Seriously though…things seem to be going good for y’all. I can’t remember the last time I saw you this happy. It was definitely before all this bullshit started.”
At the mere mention of you, a soft smile tugged at Joel’s lips. “Yeah…things are…things are going really well.”
“A good woman by your side will do that to you. I remember when Maria and I got together. She made this world a lot less lonely and now with Benji. It’s like I have something to live for aga—Joel?”
While Tommy was talking, something had caught Joel’s eye across the stream. The water wasn’t deep, so he took a few steps on some rocks to cross to the other side and stopped in front of a large tree.
Tommy checked the horses to make sure they were tied up before following his brother. “Should I leave you and the tree alone? He joked, watching as Joel ran his hands over the bark.
Joel ignored him and mumbled, “This is Russian olive wood. It’ll be perfect.”
“Perfect for what?” Joel didn’t reply, rather focused on finding the perfect branch. “Joel…Earth to Joel!” Tommy tossed some granola at Joel’s head.
Joel whipped around. “What…oh…its uh…project I’ve had in mind.”
“Project?” Tommy arched his brow. “Would this have anything to do with the person we were just talking about?”
“Stop being so damn nosy and give me a hand.” Joel walked past his brother to go back across the water and look in his pack for a knife to cut the branch down.
After stowing away the pieces of wood in his pack, the brothers caught up with the group and headed back to Jackson.
“So what are you gonna make for her?” Tommy asked.
Joel shrugged. “Just something….jewelry maybe…Ya’ know you can do a lot with that dremel I have.”
“Oh yeah?! What type of jewelry?”
A sigh blew past Joel’s lips, utterly exasperated with his brother’s questions. “I dunno know… like a ring or something
A smile slowly spread on Tommy’s face. “Would this be an engagement ring?”
“Yes! Jesus, what is this? A police interrogation?!” Joel exclaimed before calming himself for a moment. “It’s just time to settle down. That’s all” A faint blush crept up Joel’s cheeks. The idea of “settling down” at his age felt like a ridiculous concept, but he couldn’t help himself. Joel wanted to show the whole world that you were his and his alone. At the same time, he was yours. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you, the love of his life.
Tommy whistled. “Joel Miller getting hitched and settling down. Now I’ve seen everything.”
Joel snorted. “Shut up.”
“Well, let me be the first to say congratula–” Tommy halted his tracks as did Joel and the rest of the group trailing behind them. The faintest sound of rustling and a twig snapping could be heard close by. It was apparent that they were not alone.
“Now that we’ve frosted our cookies, you can use the berries as decoration.” You demonstrated to the children by placing blueberries and strawberries onto your cookie, making a face out of the fruit. Then you held up your creation for the class to see. “Now let’s see what you guys can come up with.”
You strolled past the tables, complimenting your little chefs on their artistic endeavors.
“Nice job, Quinn!”
“Benji, don’t eat all of your decorations. Save some strawberries for your cookie too.”
All the kids began raising their treats in the air to show them off to you.
“Look at mine! Look at mine!”
“Mine too!”
“Mine is the prettiest!”
“They’re all so beautiful,” you exclaimed and headed to the front of the classroom to join the teacher, Claire. “Miss C. looks like you have some future bakers here!”
Just then the school principal came in and called your name. “Maria is outside. She needs to talk to you right away. Says it’s urgent.”
Your heart plunged into your stomach. Joel and Tommy were out on patrol. What if something happened to them? Without skipping a beat, you ran out the door and down the hall, all the while praying that everyone was safe.
A rush of air hit you in the face when you got outside, your eyes wildly searching before finally spying Maria. “Maria!” you shouted.“What happened? Is Joel ok? Is it Tommy?”
“Everyone is fine,” she replied.
You let out a breath and clutched your chest as if that would calm your rapidly beating heart. “Ok, good! That’s good.” You furrowed your brows in confusion. Maria wouldn’t pull you away from work unless it was something serious. “Then what is it?”
Calmly, almost eeriely so Maria looped her arm around yours and led you towards the Jackson gates. “When Tommy and Joel were on patrol, they came across a group of people. Several of them were originally from the Washington DC QZ.”
Your body became hot and cold all at once as a wave of nausea passed over you. What if some of the DC Fedra found out where you were and wanted revenge for murdering their leader.
You went pale and slowly shook your head. “No…please…I can’t.”
Maria gently took you by the shoulders. “Its not what you think. This woman claims she’s your—”
Before she could finish, you heard your name being shouted. A voice you had given up all hope of ever hearing. All the air was punched out of your lungs. Your knees began to buckle beneath you. There was your little sister, running towards you with her arms outstretched.
She came to a stop in front of you, tears streaming down her face. Neither of you stepped any closer. Afraid to scare the other one off, like when approaching a frightened animal. Wetness coated your cheeks and it was then that you realized you were crying too.
The woman looked like your sister, same height, same wavy hair albeit a little longer, same freckles dusted across her nose. But she seemed older, more mature, and tired. An unfortunate side effect of growing up in a world filled with monsters.
“Charlotte?” you breathed. “Is it really you?”
She smiled and vigorously nodded her head.
“CHARLOTTE!” you exclaimed and scooped her up in your arms. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you began to laugh hysterically from shock or joy or a combination of both.
You pulled back and cupped her face. There were so many questions to be asked. “How did you– where did you—”
“It’s a long story,” she replied. “Max and I will explain everything.”
Your eyes widened. “Max? He’s here?”
Charlotte pointed him out to you. “Max! Look who I found!”
Max beamed and shouted your name. Next thing you knew, you were pulled into his tight embrace. He kissed the side of your head. “We’re together again. I’m never letting you go,” he murmured.
You had no words. You were shocked into silence. Your brain was unable to catch up to what was happening. There you were in the arms of your childhood love. The man you had planned on running away with. The man you had planned to marry one day.
From over Max’s shoulder, you locked eyes with Joel, having witnessed your entire reunion. He stood there with his hands on his hips, stoic and silent.
Your heart dropped, you were trapped, caught between the past and the future. No matter what happened, someone was going to get hurt.
Tag List: @ashleyfilm @littlemisspascal @orcasoul @smvtwitchmiller @apenny4thots
Warnings: None really, but the fic starts out with a pregnant/laboring reader. It is not graphic. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Notes: I had this idea for ages and tortured @theewokingdead about it for longer than she deserves, so here it is! I dedicate it to her!
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
Joel Miller Masterlist
"One more breath and…push!" The man with the dark curly hair and freckles lightly splattered aross his cheeks gently commands me, his face fully concentrated, body ready to catch the baby that I'm currently bringing into this broken world.
I had labored by myself in this shack, trying to be as silent as I could so I wouldn't attract anything that may have been lurking nearby. I didn't have a chance to properly scout the area, on account of the contractions that eventually got to the point where I couldn't continue moving through them anymore. I went as far in the dilapidated building as I could, poorly attempting to conceal myself inside. And then the man came with a younger girl, his hands up and offering help. Normally I wouldn't have accepted, but I am out of choices.
I don't have a chance to push, my body's instincts taking over, surprise on my face as my baby comes into the world, screaming right away. The man picks up his shed flannel shirt from the ground next to him, gently wrapping my baby in it.
"Congrats. You have a beautiful little girl." He hands me to her, tears streaming down my face as I gently take her, holding her tiny body to my chest. I unbutton my shirt, trying to get as much skin to skin as I can and it's several minutes before I look up at the man, surprised to find him wiping a tear from his eyes.
"Thank you," I manage to get out.
"I'm just glad I found you."
I smile at him. "Me too. You've done this before?"
He nods. "A few times. Including my own."
"That sounds special."
A few moments of silence passes between us.
"I'm Tommy. The girl with me is Ellie."
I tell him my name. "But everyone calls me Sage."
His eyes crinkle a little when he smiles at me. "It's nice to meet you Sage. Do you have a name for her?" He looks down at the bundle in my arms.
Tears sting my eyes and I clear my throat. "I had a friend when I was younger. She…didn't make it." I'm quiet for several moments, thinking of my friend. "Hana."
"It's a good name."
He helps me get Hana settled, surprisingly good at latch technique. "My wife struggled a bit at first too. It's common." He invited me back to Jackson, his town. An actual town, with fortifications, running water, and electricity. I burst into tears when he said I would have a house just for me and Hana.
We make it to Jackson where I'm immediately brought to the clinic, the town doctor and midwife checking me over. They kept me for a day or so, just to make sure everything was good. When I was ready to go, Tommy met me at the door, his wife Maria standing next to him. They both guided me down a few streets up to a beautiful ranch style home. It has 3 bedrooms which I insisted was too many, but they wouldn't hear about it. One of the rooms had some toys for a girl already, maybe about 5 or 6 years old. I wonder what had happened to her.
I follow them out the front door and Tommy turns to face me. "My brother Joel lives across the street," he gestures at the house. "He's grumpy, but reliable. And we're just a few streets down."
"I can't thank you enough. Both of you."
Maria smiles at me. "You let me know if you need anything."
-------
It's been a week since Hana came into my life and Tommy and Maria graciously welcomed us into Jackson. I haven't been able to get out much. Such is the life with a newborn and a single mom. Maria checks in on me daily, bringing by food supplies and cooked meals.
I make my way downstairs quietly, somehow managing to leave Hana fast asleep in the old dresser drawer I had made into a bassinet of sorts. Stumbling into the kitchen, I pour a glass of room temperature water and drink it, letting it sit in my mouth for several moments before swallowing. Clean, readily available water is something I'll never take for granted. A soft double rap on my front door brings me present and I set my glass down, making my way to the front of the house. When I open it, no one is there. Except, on the doorstep is a wooden bassinet that looks freshly carved. A light blanket folded inside of it. Tears well at the corners of my eyes as I bend down to pick it up, glancing around once more and not seeing anyone. It must have been Tommy or Maria. Sometimes they leave stuff without knocking so as not to disturb Hana, but this is…so unexpected and appreciated.
I take the bassinet inside and study it some more. I run my fingers gently across little outlines of horses and sage flowers, carved along the sides and across the top of the bassinet. Such beautiful work! I hear Hana start to stir from upstairs so I quickly clean off the bassinet and carry it up, placing it on the floor near my bed. I bend over at the dresser drawer to pick up a waking Hana.
"Hey pretty girl. Look what someone left us! Probably Tommy and Maria."
I feed Hana first, waiting until she passes out from being milk drunk before I lay her down on the bed and arrange her bassinet, transferring her blankets from the drawer over. I manage to move her over and she snuggles down, passing fully out for a few hours.
I really have to thank Tommy and Maria for this.
-------
A couple of days later, I feel good enough to try and get in a walk to the main part of town, maybe stop at the main eatery to get a meal I don't have to cook. Maria had given me a long bolt of fabric, showing me how to wrap it around me a certain way to tuck Hana against me and keep her safe and be hands free. I get dressed and wrap us up, slowly making my way towards the main part of town. I quietly talk to Hana about everything I see, in awe at the beautiful little town we somehow ended up in. I head into the building marked EAT and am met with the smell of beef stew, my stomach rumbling at the scent. I join the line, looking at some kids at a table playing with a couple of toy cars.
"I forgot about toys. We'll have to find you something, Hana." I quietly say to her, taking another step forward in line. But when I'm offered a tray of food, I quickly realize how difficult it will be for me to balance it and not spill the stew on Hana's head. I'm about to tell the worker that I'll have to take trips, when the man in front of me, clad in flannel, turns around, gently taking the tray for me. His deep brown eyes meet mine and he nods his head to the side, indicating I should go and he'll follow. I wind my way through the room and find a back corner booth, carefully scooting into the booth. The man sets the tray on the table in front of me and I look up at him, finding his gaze already on me.
"Anythin' else you need?" His voice is gruff, but soft around the edges. I smile up at him.
"No, this is great. Thanks for your help. Really." He nods at me, his eyes shifting to Hana. They soften as he looks at her, a far off look in his eyes. His eyes start to water and he quickly turns away, his heavy boots thunking across the wood floor as he leaves. My heart hurts, thinking about the pain in his eyes. That pain is a familiar one.
-------
A few days goes by and I open my front door, nearly stepping on a basket with 2 wooden rattles inside, also handmade. I look around, still seeing no one to thank. Picking up the basket, I take out one of the rattles and run my thumb over its smooth surface, gently giving it a shake, the wooden rings rattling against each other. I smile, turning to head inside, excited to give Hana her new toys. Well, show them to her at least.
-------
Tommy stops by a few days later, a casserole in his hands from Maria. I could cry. Sometimes I'm too tired to eat, but this makes it so much easier.
"Maria sends her love, but she's up at the school today."
"There's a school too?"
Tommy nods, smiling. "Yeah. We just expanded it. Finished about a month or so before we found you. You haven't seen it?"
I shake my head, forcing a smile. "I uh..haven't gotten out much."
Tommy chuckles. "Yeah I remember those first few months. You feel like you're doing everything wrong and wonder how long you can go without sleep before you die."
I laugh then. "I mean, I've gone without sleep before, but this is borderline torture."
We both share a chuckle. "Oh, Tommy, I forgot. Thanks for the bassinet and the rattles. They're gorgeous."
His eyebrows knit together in confusion, his head cocking to the side. "The bassinet?"
"Mmhhmm. And the rattles….you…don't remember leaving them?"
Tommy shakes his head, confusion still on his face. "No?"
I beckon to Tommy, pressing my finger to my lips as I lead him to the bedroom where Hana was fast asleep. I point to it and Tommy's eyes roam over it, a peculiar look shining from them. I close the door and we head back downstairs to the front hall, Tommy sliding his boots back on.
"I didn't make that bassinet." Tommy admits as he laces up his boots.
My eyebrows pinch together. "You didn't? Then who did?"
Tommy rights himself, a smirk struggling to be contained as his eyes glittered. "Must be a secret admirer."
He's so full of shit. He knows exactly who left it. But right as I open my mouth to call him out, Hana's cry sounds from the back room. Tommy taps an invisible hat and nods. "See you later, Sage."
-------
Another week goes by and I hear something heavy being set down outside my front door. By the time I'm able to leave Hana safely, there's no one there. However, there is a beautiful, simple changing table. My back cries out in relief, as I had been bending over the bassinet or the floor to change Hana's cloth diapers. I pull it inside and dust it off, admiring the woodwork. It's not just a flat table to change diapers, but several compartments down the sides to hold diapers and wipes, even a basket with what feels like some sort of waterproof liner on the side of it for dirty ones. This had to take hours. Tears well in my eyes and I silently thank whomever it is that keeps leaving these wonderful gifts.
-------
Hana is a few months old now, somehow. I'm honestly not sure how. Somewhere between the sleep deprivation and the feeding, I guess. My secret admirer has left us a few more things: more little toys for Hana, a new set of wooden utensils (which is great because the plastic ones that had been left here were shit), a bread box, and several baskets and crates to help carry things around in. I had nearly dropped everything out of the flimsy laundry basket I had on my front steps the other day, so the basket was really appreciated.
I'm putting the dishes away, Hana sleeping in her little bassinet that I'd brought into the kitchen with me when I hear boots scuffing against my front porch. Tommy had said he was going to bring by some baby clothes that Maria had scrounged up, so I set down my dish rag, quickly heading to the front door to avoid him knocking and waking up Hana. I fling the door open and am met with wide, brown eyes, but not the familiar ones belonging to Tommy. Instead, it's my neighbor from across the street, Joel. The other Miller. The one who had helped me with my tray. The handsome one. His eyes are wide and terrified and I glance down at his hands, a tiny, wooden toy horse in one and a jar in the other labled Nipple Cream. I look back up at him, his ears turning redder by the moment. He shoves both of them at me, mumbling under his breath. "Not from me…the nipple…just horse…" before he quickly turns and stalks off across the street, slamming his door behind him.
I'm frozen on my front steps for a moment, trying to digest what I'd just seen. I look at the jar and see a small note attached to it: I know I needed this. It's a miracle salve -Maria. I look at the toy horse, no saddle, mane flowing in the wind. The detail is impeccable-
The realization slams into me hard and my gaze flicks up to Joel's house across the street. It was him. He was the one leaving me all these gifts, the beautiful bassinet, the toys. He must have heard me or seen me need something and then just..went and made it. I clutch the horse a little tighter as I head back inside, tears streaming down my face.
The next day, I bake a pie and take it over to his porch, leaving it where he'll see it, knowing it's not enough to thank him for everything.
-------
About a month later, Hana won't stop crying. Her diaper is clean, she's been burped, she's not hungry. But she won't stop crying, her little face scrunched up in some made up audacity. I rock her, bounce her up and down, sing to her, all of it.
"Ssshh, little girl. You're alright. What do you need? You're probably tired. Ssshh.."
::knock knock knock::
Shit. I bet her screaming is keeping up the entire neighborhood. I don't even bother to fix my disheveled hair as I open the door, Hana's scream greeting the man standing there.
Joel.
"I…I'm sorry, Joel. I'm trying to get her to be quiet, but she just insists on making her discomfort everyone's problem. I'll try harder-"
Joel holds out his hands. "I know we don't know each other real good, but can I hold her? Give you a moment?"
Hana continues screaming while I stare at him. We haven't said more than a handful of words to each other and I'm fairly certian he's been actively avoiding me since the nipple cream incident. But I'm desperate and if I trust Tommy, I can trust him. Gently, I pass Hana to him and he cradles her like he'd done it a thousand times.
"Hey, baby girl. What's a matter?" His deep voice is low and soothing. Hana looks up at him and almost immediately stops crying, letting out little coos. "You look mighty tired, baby girl." Joel rocks her slightly, Hana's hand reaching out to squeeze his thumb, her tiny fingers wrapping around him. She makes a final cooing sound before she nuzzles into his chest and promptly falls asleep.
My jaw hits the floor.
"Can you move in?" I ask. Joel looks up at me and chuckles.
"I know that feeling."
He looks back down at her and we both take a moment to watch her sleep, my ears grateful for the silence.
"I can take her back if you have something else you need to do?"
Joel shakes his head. "Nah. I'm free. As long as it's good with you."
My eyes burn, my nose starting to tingle and I quickly dab at my eyes. "I have some coffee if you'd like some?"
His big brown eyes snap to mine, wide and hopeful, just like a puppy. "You have coffee?" How do his eyes do that?
I nod, smiling. "I do. And you can have it all. You can have whatever you want if you can get her to stop crying like that."
Joel follows me inside, still rocking and bouncing my sleeping Hana as I make coffee. I offer him milk and sugar, but he declines, turning his head to the side and taking a sip of the dark liquid. A low hum eminates from the back of his throat and he closes his eyes for a moment, savoring it.
"Ellie traded my coffee for some cookies, so I haven't had any in a while."
I chuckle. "Ellie, like the girl who was with Tommy when they found me?"
Joel nods. "Yeah. 18 years old. Little shit, but aren't they all?"
I smile, giving him a shrug. "Yeah, I suppose so. You had her after the outbreak?"
Joel takes another sip and sets his mug down on the side table, shaking his head. "Nah she ain't mine. Not like that. We…traveled here together from the Boston QZ."
"That's a long way from here."
Joel nods. "Yeah. She was supposed to meet up with another group but it…didn't work out."
"Well, at least she has you…do you have any other kids?"
Joel's smile fades quickly, and I immediately regret asking. I reach out and squeeze his arm, which is fucking firm as hell, damn. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. It's just, you're so good with Hana, and the way you just knew how to do things, I just assumed…"I let my voice trail off, silence enveloping us for a few moments.
"I..did have a daughter. Before. She…well, her mama left when she was born, so it was just me and her. I was 22 and terrified and alone, except for Tommy. I learned everything the hard way. Sarah was-" Joel swallows hard, his eyes watering slightly. "-everything to me. Smarter than me, beautiful, just the best. I don't know what I did to deserve her." He looks down at Hana, his hand coming up to wipe at his eyes. He clears his throat before speaking. "She died on outbreak day."
"I'm sorry," I squeeze his arm again, and he nods a thank you, his jaw muscles clenching as he watches Hana sleep, his thumb still thoroughly trapped in her grip. He clears his throat again, shaking his head a little as to clear it of memories. "What about you? What's your story?"
I take a moment to drink from my own mug, holding the warmth in my hands for a moment. "My parents, myself, and my big brother made it for a while, scavaging and just trying to keep safe. Stayed in a few QZ's, but-" I gesture vaguely. "-not all of them last. Then last year, my brother got sick. Real sick. We had been on the road for a while, escaping the last hell hole QZ. He was dying. I left him as safe as I could and I ventured out, doubling back to this group of people we had initially avoided. I saw some med bottles on the table in their camp, so I knew they had something, or at least access to it. They were the only option. So I walked into their camp and straight up to their leader, a man with dark eyes and olive skin, salt and pepper hair that was curly, but kept short. I asked him for the meds to help my brother. He stared at me for a long while. But he did offer me the meds…in exchange for a night with me." Joel made a disgusted sound. "I had to save my brother, so I agreed. He took me into his tent, the flap closing behind us. But when I turned to face him, he reached out and held my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks. Which is not what I expected, but I knew that look. He said I reminded him of his wife. His wife who's favorite breakfast food was pancakes." The pause between us is heavy, both of us knowing the result of that so many years ago. "He put the meds in my hand and told me to go, but I couldn't. I could see the hurt in his eyes and I'd lost people too. So I told him to call me by his wife's name. He could say goodbye. We laid together for a while. He was gentle and kind, and thanked me before I left. My brother healed and we went on our way. It wasn't until a couple of months later when I realized I was pregnant. We went back to find him. I at least wanted him to know. But…"I swallowed hard. "..he had been killed by a clicker attack a couple days before we found them. Or what was left of their group."
Joel manages to shift a hand free, placing it on my thigh and giving it a squeeze. "You gave him a great gift, being able to say goodbye. I'm sure he'd be happy to know some good came of it." He nods towards Hana.
I look at her, peacefully sleeping in Joel's arms. "Yeah. I think you're right. Shame though. He had an ass unlike any I've ever seen."
Joel nearly spit out his coffee, choking slightly. "Good to know." We sit in silence for several more moments before he speaks again. "Wait. Tommy and Ellie found you alone. Well, in labor but it was just you. Didn't you say you had a brother?"
My mind flashes back to the day as I recount it to Joel. "We did good for a while, but I was getting slower as I was getting more and more pregnant. We knew we'd have to find a place for me to stay a bit both before and after the baby. We thought we'd found a place, but my brother missed a room. Didn't know until the clicker was there. He..threw himself in front of me. Managed to take down the clicker but not before it mauled him. He..demanded I leave him. That I don't waste any time. He's heard whispers of a place out this way. I left him my last bullet and I ran as fast as I could. He held on as long as he could before pulling that trigger, a few clickers screaming in the distance at the sound. I stayed on track to find this place, but eventually couldn't go any further. Little Miss here, decided it was time." Hana coos in her sleep and we both watch her yawn before tucking her face against Joel's chest again. "I don't know what I would've done if Tommy hadn't come along. He saved us."
"Don't let him hear you say that. It'll go straight to his head." We both chuckle at that, Joel's smile fading quicker than mine. His eyes lock onto mine, a serious look coming across his face.
"I'm sorry for all that you went through. I know it's hard out there. I can't imagine being pregnant."
I sigh, giving him a small smile. "We all have a story. I'm just lucky I get to be here now. Which reminds me. How am I ever going to repay you for all the things you handmade us?"
Joel shakes his head. "You don't owe me anything, darlin'. I wanted to do it."
-------
From then on, Joel came around more often. Almost always with something for Hana or myself. I told him that wasn't necessary, that he could just come hang out and get a warm meal but he insisted. Said that we deserved nice things too.
Hana seemed to sense when he would leave his house to head to work. I swear she would wake up everyday at the same time and, sure enough, about 20 minutes later, I'd see Joel heading down his front steps, sometimes rubbing the sleep from his eyes. So one day, when hana woke, I got us dressed and sat on his front porch. A few minutes went by before he came out, his eyebrows raised in surprise as a small smile tries to tug at the corners of his mouth.
"What..what are ya'll doing here so early?"
I stand, adjusting Hana in her wrap and walk over to Joel, who gently cradles the back of Hana's head. She coos, resting her tiny head momentarily in his palm before falling back asleep. Does this man have magic hands? My mind starts to drift on that thought before I realize he's staring at me, waiting for an answer.
"Oh. Uh, well..she always seems to get up when you do. I thought maybe you wouldn't mind us walking with you to town?""
His dark eyes study me for a moment before he finally caves and gives me a small smile. "Yeah. I'd like that."
From then on, we accompany him to work. Sometimes he's helping build, sometimes he's just in the office making plans of things to build. Either way, Hana and I walk him to work. After the first week, Tommy leans in and says something to Joel just out of my earshot. Joel's response was to punch him in the shoulder, Tommy smirking while rubbing at his arm. He raises his other hand and waves to me, that shit eating grin on his face.
I start making extra food for Joel, not just dinners or the occasional breakfast, but lunch too. I saw him one day eating some sad meal that he mumbled about not having time to make something good. I decided no more. We bring him lunch every day, his gruff exterior fading a little more every time he sees us.
-------
"This little one is starting to pull herself up," I tell Joel one morning on our walk to work. "I think it's time to figure out where to put her when she sleeps. That bassinet isn't really safe for her anymore now."
"She's pullin' herself up already? Such a strong girl," Joel says more to Hana than me, her response was to blow a raspberry, spit drooling down her chin. The smile that puts on Joel's face is worth any extra laundry I may have to do.
I sigh. "Yeah. I'll have to see if anyone is done with their cribs. I think there's only 3 in all of Jackson, and they are all pretty full. I guess I could try to corral her in somehow on the floor? I really don't know."
We stop at the front door to Joel's office building. I turn to face him and he holds out a finger, which Hana promptly grabs and tries to chew on. "Good thing my hands are still clean," he chuckles, as we both watch her. His eyes look up to mine and I realize, he looks nervous.
"You alright?" I ask, eyebrows raised.
Joel shrugs. "Y…yeah. Uh, listen. I don't mean to invite myself over, but are you free tonight? I have somethin' to bring by."
I gently squeeze his bicep and have to force my brain to focus on the moment and not wander off down spicy thoughts. "Joel, you're always welcome at our house. You know that. Come on over. I'll make dinner."
He gives me a soft smile, his eyes not quite meeting mine before he looks back at Hana, gently prying his finger from her grip. "I'll see you later, baby girl."
-------
My soup is still cooking when I hear some heavy thunks on my front porch. I set down my wooden spoon and wipe my hands on my apron, heading over to the front door. When I open it I see Joel, surrounded by many pieces of finished wood that looks like, when placed together, they would be-
"So, it's not finished yet, but I wanted to assemble it here rather than bring it over."
My eyes grow wide. "Is that a crib?"
Joel looks down at his strategic piles of wood and nods. "Yeah. I uh, I've been workin' on it for a while now. Didn't want to bring it over before Hana was ready, but when you said she was pullin' herself up, I figured it was time."
I throw my arms around his neck and hug him, tears burning my eyes. He hesitates a moment before hugging me back, taking a deep breath.
"Thank you so much, Joel. I didn't know what we were going to do." We break the hug and right ourselves, Joel awkwardly reaching out to squeeze my arm.
"I've got you, Sage."
While I finish up dinner, Joel hauls everything inside and upstairs to Hana's room. There's lots of hammering, Hana staring up at the stairs while she wiggles around on her blanket in the living room, one of the wooden toy rattles Joel had made her gripped in her tiny hand. He comes back down a bit later, wiping the sweat from his brow and I have to turn away so he doesn't see the heat that rises in my cheeks.
"It's finished."
I take a quick, deep breath to calm myself. "Great! I want to see, but I know you have to be hungry. Sit."
We eat while Hana alternates between eating and making her new favorite loud sound she'd discovered she could make. Of course Joel makes a huge deal out of it and she does it more and more, giggling when he makes a silly face.
After dinner, we go upstairs to see the crib. Which is simple and elegant in structure, but when I look closer, I see the same sage and horse print that he'd carved into her bassinet. I run my fingers along the print, my eyes burning with the tears I'm desperately trying not to shed.
"This is gorgeous, Joel. Really. Thank you."
He shrugs like it was no big deal. "Should we see if she likes it?"
"I know she'll love it. She loves everything you give her."
He glances away from me, but not before I see the giant smile on his face that he quickly hides. I place a sleepy Hana down into the new crib, which he'd already had a mattress and her old blanket in. She moves her body around a little, her head moving from side to side before cooing quietly. Her eyes close the rest of the way and she falls asleep. Quietly, we leave the room, leaving the door opened a crack as we head back downstairs.
"I swear you have a magic touch for her. She's always so calm around you," I say to Joel as I head into the kitchen.
"What can I say? I guess I have a magic touch."
I nearly drop the glass I'm reaching for thinking about that. "I bet you do."
Silence for several moments before I clear my throat. "Uh you want some coffee?"
"Yeah. Sure."
I quickly brew some coffee, pouring us each a mug before heading into the living room, handing one to Joel as I sit next to him on the couch. We both set our mugs down on the table before settling back onto the couch.
"Thanks again for…everything. I really don't know what I would've done without you."
"You'd have been fine, darlin'. You're a strong woman."
"No, really Joel. I don't…I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."
I finally look at him, his dark eyes all big and gorgeous. My stomach flutters as his eyes glance down to my lips and back. He slowly leans in closer and closer, his mouth an inch from mine. I can feel his breath fan out across my face before his lips ever so gently meet mine. Soft and warm, a gentle press as his hand comes up to my face, sliding back around my head to tangle in my hair as he pulls me closer, his other hand sliding around my back. My fingers grip his shirt, desperately trying to hold on to him, to this moment, afraid if I let go, then he'd disappear. He pulls back just a little, pressing his forehead to mine.
"I know how it feels to raise a child alone. But, you don't have to be."
-------
2 years later…
We took it slow since that night, especially since Hana started to go through so many growth spurts it made my head spin. Joel was there for all of them, coaching me through them all, helping me from pulling my hair out.
Joel had us over for dinner with him and Ellie, who had long since taken off to hang out with her new friends. She's hilarious but I'm sure she's going to put Joel in an early grave with the way she stresses him out. Sometimes on purpose.
Hana had curled up on Joel, her tiny head resting on his broad chest, little arms wrapped around him as best as she could. He had one large palm on her back to make sure she didn't fall off, the other wrapped around my shoulders as he held me to his side. We stayed like that for a while, just chatting and watching the fireplace.
"Well, I should probably get her home and into bed." I sit up, stretching slightly before trying to grab her from his chest. Hana opens her eyes halfway, shaking her head no as she grabs onto Joel's shirt.
"No go. I wanna stay with daddy."
Joel's eyes go wide as he looks at me. She had never called him daddy before. Tears well in the corners of his eyes as he holds her tighter to his chest, her face nuzzling more into him. My heart twists, my own tears falling from my eyes at the sight of them.
"What if you didn't go home?"
My eyes find his, bright and puppy-like. "What?"
"What if you and Hana moved in with me?"
My heart races at the thought. "Do you…do you mean it?"
He nods. "I would love nothin' more. I know Ellie don't mind."
I take his face in my hands and kiss him before pulling back. "Whenever you want me, I'm yours."
Within another year, Joel and I get married in town and I still wonder what I ever did to deserve the love of this man.
A little drabble I wrote that could be read as a standalone fic OR as a deleted scene from my Joel Miller series. The pic above is no indication of what the reader looks like--she's pretty non-descriptive apart from clothing.
Chapter 8 of "To Build a Home" comes out tomorrow! If anyone wants to be tagged let me know!
Warnings: NSFW, smut, oral-male recieving a teensy bit rough, badly proofread
Word Count: 1230
"To Build a Home" Masterlist
The first signs of spring were beginning to peek through the dreary Wyoming winter curtain. Rather than patrolling the surrounding woods or serving as foreman to his crew, Joel had been in meeting after meeting with the council about renovations on older buildings and plans for future developments. With the impending warmer weather and the ground thawing, the council did not hesitate to put added pressure on him to build faster.
Finally having a moment to himself, Joel sat at his desk and ran his fingers through his hair, stress seeping into every bone in his body. He was like a wire pulled taut about to snap. A knock on the door had him all but throw his coffee mug at the door. “What is it now!?” he snapped.
The door opened a crack, revealing your face. “Just me.” Tentatively, you opened the door a bit wider. “Sorry, is this a bad time?”
Joel’s face instantly softened. “Not at all. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought you were someone from the council or the construction crew asking for another “favor.”
“Nope. Just me bringing you some lunch.” You raised up the picnic basket in your hand.
Joel began to clear off his desk. “Let me make some room for the fo—” Turning towards the door, he was rendered completely speechless at the sight of you.
“Food?” you finished his sentence and began to set up your picnic lunch of sandwiches, salad, and cookies on the empty desk.
Joel pushed his glasses up from falling down the bridge of his nose to get a better look at you, more importantly what you were wearing. A low cut red sundress that hugged your curves in all the right places. You managed to look simultaneously demure and downright sinful. To Joel, you were an innocent lamb and he was the big bad wolf, ready to devour you.
“New dress?”
“Mmmhmm. What do you think?” You stood in front of his desk and twirled in a circle.
Leaning back in his chair, Joel crooked two fingers towards you. “I think I need to get a closer look,” he growled.
You slowly sauntered over to stand in front of him. Knowing what those two thick fingers of his were capable of doing to your body, you could already feel desire begin to pool in the pit of your stomach.
His rough hands caressed the fabric at your hip, slowly inching towards the hem of your dress. “So beautiful,” he whispered. In one swift movement, he placed you on top of his desk, before taking one of your legs and propping it on the arm rest of his chair. His lips pressed against your inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses, higher and higher.
Before you lost total control of your senses, you threaded your fingers through the hair at the crown of Joel’s head and tugged him away from your spread legs.
“Stop,” you gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Joel asked.
You stood up from your perch and bent down to kiss him hard–all teeth and tongue. Any confusion Joel had on exactly what you were up to was quickly forgotten the moment you sucked on his bottom lip, pulling away with a teasing bite.
“You always take such good care of me,” you whispered against his mouth. “Now I want to take care of you.” You promptly got down on your knees between his spread legs. Your mouth watered at the outline of his half hard cock beneath his denim. Ever so gently, your fingers outlined his growing bulge before unbuttoning his jeans and tugging the zipper down.
Joel released a shaky breath as he looked down to see you pulling his cock out. In his mind, there was never a more beautiful and erotic sight.
Giving him your biggest doe-eyed look from underneath your lashes, you began to place the most tender kisses to the underside of his shaft. A bead of precum leaked from the tip which you were all too eager to flick your tongue against before wrapping your mouth around the head.
You moaned and sucked the tip of his cock as if it were your favorite candy. Your tongue gently massaging the slit to coax more of his salty essence into your mouth.
With your eyes locked on his, you slowly took him all the way down your throat until your nose brushed up against his coarse pubic hairs.
Joel threw his head back and groaned, “Fuuuuck, baby.”
You pulled off him with a pop. Your hand reached up to fondle his balls while you rested your head on his thick thigh, your lips shiny and red, eyes slightly glassy. “I want you to use me. Fuck my mouth. Please. I need it.”
Joel’s cock twitched at your desperate pleas. Something primal emerged from within. He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to open your mouth. “I’m not going to be gentle,” he warned. “Are you sure you can take it?”
“I can take it. Please let me show you,” you rasped out and opened your mouth even wider, sticking your tongue out as an invitation.
Joel tapped the crown of his cock against against your tongue. “Ok, sweet girl. Let’s see you put that pretty mouth to good use. He threaded his fingers in your hair and tugged you back down onto his shaft and held your head there. “That’s it. Nice and deep,” he husked out, thrusting up until you began to gag.
You whimpered and hollowed your cheeks before he pulled back and thrust into your mouth once more. He continued to guide you, arching his hips up towards your face. Between the stress he had been put under recently and your wicked mouth that worked like a vacuum, Joel knew he wouldn’t last long.
Your jaw was beginning to tire, but you could care less when looking up at Joel’s face, scrunched up in absolute pleasure. As his movements became sloppier, you used your one hand to reach what your mouth couldn’t while your other hand gently massaged his balls.
The sight of you with tears streaming down your face and drool dripping down your chin and onto your chest was his undoing. “Oh Jesus! I’m cumming!”
Joel’s hips stuttered and he came, growling and grunting your name. He gripped the back of his chair, cumming harder than he had in a while. His cock swelled inside your mouth, followed by a flood of his salty cum. You swallowed everything down, making a show of popping off his cock and licking your lips before getting up.
Joel tugged you toward him and kissed you, tasting himself on your tongue when his stomach growled. A moment later, your stomach growled back in response.
“Guess we worked up an appetite,” you said with a giggle.
He laughed and tucked himself back into his jeans while you laid the food out.
“Wait a minute.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you back over to him. “What about dessert?” His hand reached up under your dress and dragged a finger against the gusset of your panties, groaning when he felt how soaked you were.
“Only if you eat your lunch first,” you teased with an arch of your brow.
That day Joel had never scarfed down a meal so fast, eager to get to his sinfully delicious treat.
Tag List: @ashleyfilm @littlemisspascal @orcasoul @smvtwitchmiller @apenny4thots
Summary: You and Frankie navigate a relationship that isn't supposed to be one.
CW: smut (oral both m and f receiving, unprotected p in v but they talk about it, use of a sex toy, this is porn with very little plot). Reader is still dealing with anorgasmia, and Frankie is still being perfect about it. Frankie is a consent king, Frankie is a pussy king, this is my love letter to Frankie,
Reader is abled body and almost no physical description, she has hair that can be tied up, and that's it, but if you notice anything please let me know.
A/N: I got so many wonderful responses from La Petite Mort. I wanted to thank every one for this. And since this story also haunted me, I couldn't let these two go. This starts the day after and it will be less heavy on the mention of depression and way more fluffy. It can be read as a stand alone, I think. But you can give the first story a try.
Edit because I’m a horrible friend who deserves none of you. Thank you to @sawymredfox @iknowisoundcrazy and @petalsinblood for holding my hand and cheering me up while I wrote this (probably because I said there would be lots of smut. You depraved beautiful people)
I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !
Main masterlist | Read on AO3
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
"So, what's your deal?" You cross your arms and lean them on the laminated plastic table.
"What do you mean?" Frankie mimics your position. You are both staring at each other in the small family-owned diner, only a block away from your place. People around you are minding their own business, grabbing breakfast before whatever they are about to do with their day.
"Well, you know that I'm depressed and medicated, that I use sleeping with guys as a coping mechanism, that I am emotionally unavailable, as well as hard to please in bed. I don't do sleepovers, I don't do next morning breakfast, yet here I am. And I don't know what your deal is. And let's face it, single people our age usually have something. If this," you gesture between the two of you, "is going to happen again, whatever this is, I need to know what I'm getting into. So I'm asking again, what's your deal?"
He smiles, and that damn dimple makes you want to grab him by the shirt and drag him over the table to kiss him. Instead, you look dead serious, and barely move when the waitress brings your food: eggs and pancakes for you, eggs and French toast for him.
"Are you suggesting this might happen again?" His eyes are twinkling with mirth. You don't know if you want to laugh with him or wipe that smile off his face. Maybe with a kiss.
"Don't play with me, Frankie. You made me come, of course, I want to see you again." You keep your stern voice, but let your mouth tug slightly.
He laughs and starts digging into his food. You are trying hard to rattle him, and you don't know why. Well, you know why, you just aren't going to get into it right now. But you have to give it to him, he seems to take it in a stride.
"I'm a veteran, an ex coke addict, barely two years sober, divorced, and father of a three-year-old daughter. I slept with my best friend on a regular basis and still see him, but just as a friend. I was unemployed for almost two years, and just got my pilot license back, a job, and a place where I can share custody of my daughter. I'm pretty much fucked up. So yeah, that's my deal."
He looks up at you, and even if he is playing along, even if he is laying out all of this like it's nothing, smiling between bites of eggs, you can see that little vulnerability in his eyes. It's not much, and most might not see it, but you do. Because you know it's the same he saw in yours when you tried to scare him away.
"I can work with that." You simply say, before adding, "I was married, dumped after three years because I didn't want kids, and he did. After, might I add, agreeing to not having any because, of course, we talked about it before. Surprisingly, he got his best friend pregnant. Before he broke up with me. I buried myself in work, got burned out, was laid off, and had to go live with my parents for 6 months. I got a job and a place about 6 months ago." You are daring him to leave.
"I didn't know this was a competition." He sips his coffee, eyes boring into yours, unbothered with everything you just said, and you can't help but smile.
"If it were, who do you think would win?"
"Me. You can't surpass drugs and active combat."
"Damn, you're right."
"Although I have to say what happened to you was very shitty, and I'm sorry."
"Thanks. You too."
"Yeah, mine was mostly my fault, but I dealt with it. I'm good. Well, better."
You both stay silent while you finish your food. You want to see Frankie again, for sex, sure, but maybe for more. You enjoyed his company. But you don't know if you can do it yet.
"Frankie." He stops eating, looking at you, sensing by your tone that this is going to be serious. "I do want to see you again. I had fun last night, even before the amazing sex. Don't look so smug!" you laugh when you see he can't help a smirk on his face, "But–" You shake your head, trying to find the right words.
"But you don't know if you are ready for it." He supplies for you.
"Yes, that's pretty much it."
"Look, I really did have a great time last night, and sure, the amazing sex is part of it, by the way, it takes two for that, so you are allowed to feel smug." God, he is so sweet. "I want to see you again, but as you might have guessed from my many attractive features, my life is a mess. I'm still learning how to navigate co-parenting, I'm working weird hours, and I try to go to NA meetings as much as I can, because my sobriety is still fragile." He stops and sighs. "I know I'm not selling myself right now."
"How can you say that? I think those happen to be your selling points." He laughs and takes your hand." What I'm trying to say here is that I'm OK with just hooking up if that's what you want. Sure, I might want more, but I'm definitely not in a good spot to start anything serious. So what I can offer is one step at a time, and checking with each other at each one of them to see how it's going."
"Wow, that sounds so adult. Who knew communication could be so hot in a man?" You make it seem like it's a joke, but you are actually impressed by his self-awareness.
"Yeah, funny how therapy actually does help." He smirks, looking at you expectantly.
You purse your lips for a bit, thinking things over. "OK, Frankie, let's do this."
"Let's do this." You both smile at each other, letting the comfortable silence envelop you.
"You sure you want to do this, baby?" Frankie's head rolls back and bangs on the door as you take him in your mouth as an answer.
"Fuuuuuck." You love it when he swears, when he loses all composure, when he lets himself go. He's always so good to you that sometimes you just want to do everything for him.
"Babe, wait, wait–" you hollow your cheeks, swallowing him deeper, and his sentence is cut short, his hand grabbing your hair, in a motion that half pulls you back, half keeps you there. You know the conflicted feeling he is having, and it makes you smile around his cock. You slowly pull him out, your eyes on him, with the most innocent look you can muster.
"Do you want me to stop?" Your voice is husky, and you are so wet you can feel your panties getting soaked.
His eyes are closed; it feels like torture to open them and look down at you. He looks wrecked, and you feel proud to be the one who did this. He doesn't answer, just breathes heavily. You could torture him, you could give him a taste of his own medicine, and tell him to use his words, or whatever he loves to whisper in your ears whenever he has you speechless and thoughtless. But you are too greedy, instead you slowly lick his length, your tongue tracing the vein that decorates it, until you get to the tip, and you put your mouth around it, sucking it like a lollipop. You hear the small sounds that seem to come from his throat, half-whine, half-growl, and you chuckle.
One of your hands grabs his base, working him slowly, while your mouth continues to play with his tip for a moment. The small pants and noises coming from Frankie make you feel so powerful, and also needy. You take him in while your other hand motions to grab his ass to bring him as deep as you can take him.
His moan is music to your ears, and you keep the exact pace, sensing his hips moving unconsciously, thrusting his cock deeper.
It doesn't take long until he comes in your throat, whimpering "Babe, no, no, oh, I'm, I'm coming, oh my god, yes, fuuuuck, yes."
You swallow around him, as his hips jerk from the aftershock of his orgasm, until you feel him slack on the door, spent, the hand letting go of your hair, and his fingers tenderly graze your cheek, your lips, his thumb tugging your lower lip once you pull his softening cock from your mouth.
"You little minx", he chuckles, as he helps you up and pulls you in his arms, his head nestling in the crook of your neck. "I wanted to fuck you against the door."
You let out a small laugh, your fingers in his curls, that damn hat on the floor somewhere. He shivers from your touch, and you let yourself breathe him and the moment in.
Dinner was fun, a laid-back burger joint, a walk along the bay, and then he brought you home to spend the night. Technically, a date, except you both never put any words on it. Ever since that breakfast, you had been clear. No labels for the moment, no pressure. Sex and fun, and you both took it one step at a time. It's been two months, and you didn't see each other that much; he had his work and his kid, you had your own work. But you texted, you went out a few times for drinks and food, you talked and laughed, and of course, you had sex. Sex like you hadn't had in a long time. Comfortable, fun, mind-blowing sex. And orgasms. So many of them. Always with the help of your vibrator, but still. Even when it took time, even when you felt frustrated, he was there, focused, persistent, but not insistent. When you said it wouldn't happen, he didn't pressure you and always made sure you were content in any way. He made it seem like it was normal, but the bar was so low you were still surprised by his basic decency. He never felt threatened by the fact that he couldn't make you come without help. You were the one who felt frustrated by the matter, never him.
Frankie untangles himself from your arms and pulls back his pants, without bothering to close them.
"Let's get you in bed and taken care of." He pulls you toward your bedroom, his deep voice making you shiver from need.
"It's not a trade, Frankie."
"Oh, don't worry, I'm going to have as much pleasure as I intend to give you."
His mouth is killing you, expertly destroying every part of your being, one lick, nip, suck at a time. Right now, he is destroying your soul with both hands pinching your nipples, and his tongue slowly circling your clit. You don't know where you are, or what you are doing, barely conscious that your knuckles are white from gripping the sheets tight, and uttering noises that are barely human. You feel it in the periphery, the orgasm taunting you. But once again, as soon as you sense it, your mind starts acting, thinking. Why do you have a fucking brain? As soon as it acts up, like a butterfly whirling in the wind, your orgasm flies further and further away. You can't help but make a small, frustrated whine.
And Frankie, ever so perceptive, sensing the change in your demeanor, slowly stops, "Everything's OK, babe?"
"Yes, sorry, just got… almost, but then I didn't. I'm sorry."
"Hey, hey, don't worry, it's OK. There isn't any pressure." He climbs over you, his eyes pouring into yours, to reassure you. But you can't look at him, turning your head to the side, ashamed that this keeps happening over and over again. He cups your jaw tenderly and brings your attention back to him, not letting your gaze wander.
"I mean it, if you want to stop, we stop, if you want me to continue, believe me, I will," Frankie lowers his head and rasps in her ear, "if you want me to take that vibrator and use it on you, I'm fine with it, but I also have an idea I want to try."
The whirlwind in your brain is shutting off. He just knows how to make you stop thinking.
"What do you have in mind?"
"I want to fuck you with that vibrator while I eat up that pretty pussy." Sometimes, he uses words so filthy you could blush; he has no filter. But when he does it like this, in bed, pining you down with his eyes black with lust, his arm caging you, it makes you feel liquid, a boneless being of lust and pleasure.
"Fuck." That's all you can say, you push him off you so you can get your vibrator and the lube, handing them to Frankie.
"Lie down, baby, I'm going to take good care of you." You know he says it in a way that is supposed to be hot, but you can't help the rush of emotions in your body and surge to give him a deep kiss, one devoid of heat but full of feelings.
"You always do, Frankie," and you lie down, knees bent, legs wide open. For a moment, he looks slightly stunned by what you just said, a sheepish smile on his face, and when his eyes start raking your body all spread out for him, his smile turns into a devilish grin. You watch him apply the lube on the toy, and he bends down to kiss your mouth before kissing his way down your core.
Closing your eyes, you concentrate on the sensation, willing your brain to shut up with the thoughts that sometimes plague you. You hear the buzzing sound and then feel the vibration applied softly on your folds.
"Is this OK?"
"Yes." You gasp when he slowly starts pressing the toy at your entrance. You are already pretty open, his fingers have done some work, your own pleasure, and the lube is easing it in. You feel it opening you up, the vibration is on the lowest setting, just giving you a small thrill as Frankie slowly pulls it in and out, each time a little deeper, until he gets it all the way in, and you let out a low moan.
"All OK, babe?"
"Uh uh, yeah, s'good, so good." He fucks you slowly, finding a nice rhythm and sets the vibration a little higher. The sensation is oh so good, even more when he twists the vibrator up, allowing it to hit that good spot.
Frankie is an expert, a man of precision, and you just know that if you opened an eye, you would see him watching you intently, checking your pleasure response. With a twist of his wrist, he hits the spot again, and your legs shake.
"Frankie." It's a whine that comes out of you, it's even better than when it's you using the vibrator, because you know he is doing it, you know he is watching you as you abandon every last part of yourself to him. You can feel the pleasure coiling inside you, in your lower abdomen.
"You ready for more?"
"Please, I want it, please."
You feel his tongue and let out a gasp, the few licks making your whole body shiver from the pleasure.
"Oh, Oh!" He takes this as encouragement, and you feel his whole mouth devouring you. He isn't here to tease or drag it on. He is a man on a mission, with only one objective. And God, you can feel it coming fast.
His thrusting doesn't falter, and the vibration is at its max, his other hand lying on your stomach to pin you down.
"Oh Frankie, oh Frankie, oh Frankie." You are barely conscious of what you are saying, as your hand presses on his head, fingers tugging his hair, mind empty.
And then it's an explosion. Colors and lights, behind your closed eyelids, deafening sounds in your ear, from you screaming, and Frankie moaning loudly, and then your whole body trembles, jerks, and falls back. You don't even get to the point of overstimulation, Frankie turns off the vibrator, and slowly takes it out, while kissing your stomach. You are still panting, eyes barely open, exhaustion suddenly hitting you like a weighted blanket. Or maybe it's the feel of Frankie who lies next to you, pulling up the covers on both of you, and holds you close to him.
"Thank you, Frankie."
"You don't have to thank me. Was it OK?"
"More than OK." You say this in a breathless laugh, still trying to get back to this plan of reality.
"Good, that's something we can do again then." He nuzzles your jaw and squeezes you tight.
There is something in the back of your mind, but you push it away; you are too tired for it. You feel him hard against you.
"Do you want to–" Your hand goes to his cock, but Frankie pulls it away and keeps it in his.
"Shhh, don't worry, you gave me the perfect blowjob. I'm fine. Sleep." You hum in assent and fall into a deep slumber.
A few weeks later, you wake up in Frankie's house, again. Since he brought you here, you can't help but want to go there every time. His house is homey, well-loved. It's a little old and in need of renovation, but he's been working steadily on it, and you can see the love and care he puts into it and how much he is making it a place for him and his daughter. Her bedroom is the best one in the house and the one that has been totally renovated, while his own bedroom still has the old and faded wallpaper. The garden is nice and well taken care of, with a small slide and swings. It's a place that makes you feel at home more than your own apartment in downtown Tampa, all modern and new, with no real charm, even if you've moved there 9 months ago. Frankie lives in a suburban neighborhood, in the historical part of Tampa, not very far from your place. But it's drastically different, almost like a village. He knows his neighbors, it's within walking distance to some restaurants and stores (when the heat allows it), and it just… feels good.
Both of you have been exploring the eating options around his place, you spending the night, and more often than not, staying the next day. It looks awfully like dating. Even if you still don't name it.
It's Sunday morning, and it's the second night in a row you've spent together, something you never thought you would do. And even sleeping together without actually sleeping together. Last night, you came back from a day's outing, hiking the nearby trail, stopping by the beach for a sunset, grabbing some pizza on the way back, and crashing in bed exhausted after a shower, which you didn't even share.
You are fucked. Because you know this is it. You have feelings, real ones, for a nice guy, who you slept with, who has a life you never interact with, not his friends, not his daughter. And even if you did manage to get together at least once, but more often twice a week, the ease and comfort and the shared activities that had been going on for the past three months, it felt more than just sex. It has never been just sex, if you are honest with yourself.
The bed is empty, but you aren't worried. Frankie mentioned he wanted to go on an early run, before the day got too hot. You think about making some breakfast for when he gets back, so you take a quick shower, air the bedroom, make the bed, and go to the kitchen.
As you are rummaging in the fridge trying to see what you can make with what's there and contemplating the idea of going to grab something out, when you hear the front door open, and Frankie walks into the kitchen. He looks delicious in his shorts, his large and worn-out t-shirt, and his hair a little wet from the effort. He is holding a Kraft bag in his hand and looks at you with an appreciative eye. You are wearing a t-shirt and some shorts, nothing fancy, but he always looks at you that way. And you never tire of it.
"What are you doing in the fridge?"
"Trying to see if I could make some breakfast, but I have a hard time deciding what I can do with the lone tomato, the bottle of ketchup, and that old piece of cheese."
"Yeah, I know you do wonders in the kitchen, but I knew this wouldn't work, so I grabbed sandwich bagels on my way." He comes close to you, puts the bag on the counter next to the fridge, and leans in to kiss you lightly.
You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, deepening the kiss. You are hungry for more than bagels, it seems. Frankie starts wrapping his arm around you, but stops.
"Wait, I'm all sweaty and smelly." He makes a move to leave, but you grab him tighter and start kissing his neck, grazing it lightly with your teeth.
"You aren't smelly at all." He moans in answer, and you take the opportunity to pull his t-shirt. Without any complaint, Frankie helps you take it off, and you run your hands on his naked chest, feeling his hot skin on your palm, still a little humid from the exertion. Sweat should disgust you, but right now, it's a very potent aphrodisiac.
"You don't want breakfast first?" It's a question that doesn't need a verbal answer. Instead, you push him out of the kitchen, and he keeps moving toward the bedroom, never breaking away from you.
You both fall down on the bed, a tangle of limbs and clothes half discarded, leaving a trail behind you. Before Frankie can bring out the condoms from the bedside table, you stop his hand and decide to do something that you know might change this for good.
"Frankie, I, I told you I have an IUD, and we both mentioned having been checked right before we met, maybe–" You don't finish, but you can see in his eyes as he pours them in yours that there is one question that you have to answer first. He's above you, one knee between your legs, both elbows around your head, and he doesn't move. There is a hope in his eyes that makes you be brave when you finally say. "There has been no one else."
"You sure?"
"That there is no one else?" You smirk.
"No, no, that you," he swallows and looks away before saying, "that you want this?" This can mean a lot, you know, this can just mean sex without a condom, but it can mean putting a label, or maybe it's just another step, and you should stop overthinking.
"Yes." For a moment, he just stares at you, and a smile starts spreading on his face. He kisses you and reaches again for the drawer, for the vibrator he bought and surprised you with the first time you came over his place. At the time you you were stunned, that he went out to look for the same exact model to have just for you was such a beautiful act. But you stop him again.
"No, I don't want it, just you."
"You sure?"
"Yes." You don't want a complicated position, him concentrating on you, using the vibrator to make you come. You just want to feel him, you just need him. Even if you won't come, you just know having him over you, watching him lose himself, sensing him come in you, bare, will be pleasure enough.
And it is. It's slow and deliberate at first, with a lot of raw emotions as your eyes meet again and again. The feel of him pressed on you is bliss, the slow drag of his cock in you makes you want to weep, you probably do, you aren't thinking much at the moment, the way he starts to move faster, hips snapping, face pressed against your neck as he starts losing the rhythm and chasing his high, moaning, makes you feel powerful. You love when Frankie is in charge, talks dirty in your ears, praises you, or talks you through it. You just love his voice while you have sex. But you secretly love it even more when you render him speechless, when all he can do is feel and murmur incoherent words that are more noise than anything else. You relish in the feeling that he is going to come inside you so fast, just because you feel too good, this man who spends so much time bringing you pleasure, sometimes to his own detriment. You can give him that, and so you rake your fingers in his hair, let your nails scratch his scalp, down his shoulder, and you murmur all the words you feel: "Let go, baby, let me feel you come inside me. Let me make you feel good, as good as you always make me feel." And it's with a strangled cry that Frankie comes, and that you feel a pleasure that might not be an orgasm, but that is so much more in the moment. You are falling in love, and it feels terrifying but good.
As you both lie side by side, catching your breath, Frankie turns to look at you.
"Is it OK? You didn't come, I didn't–"
"Shh, it's fine, I wanted this." You stroke his cheek, looking at him fondly.
"But I feel so selfish."
"Frankie, you are the least selfish man I know. Don't worry."
You get up to use the bathroom, and while you clean up, an awful thought crawls in the back of your head, and is at once the only thing you can think of. Why does your brain do that? You are perfectly happy, enjoying a perfect moment with Frankie, and now all you can think of is, "When will he get tired of me?"
And it probably shows because when you get out, Frankie, who is still lying in bed, looks at you, concerned.
"Are you OK?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." You start to pick up your clothes, without looking at him.
"You sure? You don't seem. Please tell me if I did something wrong."
Warmth runs through your chest. How do you deserve someone like him? You feel like crying and know that you have to say out loud what has been weighing you down for so long.
"What if I'm broken? What if I never can come normally ever again?" You finally let it out, looking down, avoiding his eyes. He gets up to you and takes your face in his hands.
"Oh, baby. I don't think so, but even if that happens, it's OK."
"But what if no one wants to go through the trouble?"
"I want to." He looks so earnest, you want to believe him.
"And if you get tired of it? Of me?"
"I'll never get tired of you, of what we have."
"You are sure?"
"I am. I promise. I like you. A lot, and I know I agreed to no labels, but I think we both know lately it hasn't been just sex. So believe me when I say it." He pulls you into a warm hug, and you cling to him, breathing in his neck.
"I like you too. I am still scared, but I like what we have, and I want to see what might happen next." You feel him let out a relieved sigh.
"Well, that's good." He pulls you away to look in your eyes again, "Now I think we need to shut off that pretty brain of yours. See, I didn't make you come, and now you've got way too many thoughts." His tone is sultry, and he wiggles his eyebrows, you can't help but laugh. You love that he just knows how to break the tension.
"I'm serious, though. I actually have something in mind I've been wanting to try."
"Frankie, you just fucked me, you are insatiable." You say this, yet you still let him guide you to the bed.
"I don't intend to fuck you, at least not with my cock."
"How can you be so sweet and so filthy?"
"You love it, baby. Do you want to hear my idea?"
Of course you do. His crude talk makes you want to feel him again, desire pooling in your belly. You nod, and he smiles.
"Do you trust me?" He sits you on the bed and kneels in front of you.
"Always"
"I want to tie you up, put a blindfold on you, and eat you up."
The idea makes you gasp, and his smile turns cocky. "I knew you would like it. Have you ever done it?"
"Never with the blindfold, just tied up."
"Are you OK with doing both?"
"Yes."
He makes sure you are comfortable, putting a pillow under your head and around you, kissing each of your wrists before tying them up. He uses silk ties because he doesn't have anything else in hand.
"I'm surprised that you even have one, let alone two! I thought you were going to be all feral and use zip ties."
"I don't have any, but–" He stops, his voice and eyes betray his thoughts.
"Maybe we can go buy some." You were teasing, but you are even more turned on thinking about it. And you have to admit that watching Frankie walking around, confident, naked, taking care of everything, it's hot.
He takes out a black scarf from a drawer and walks to you.
"Ready?"
"Yeah."
He wraps the scarf with so much care, making sure he doesn't pull your hair, asking if you are comfortable, telling you he'll stop whenever you want. You don't think he would do otherwise, but you appreciate the reassurance. You've rarely been so vulnerable. Especially with someone you've known for such a short time. And yet, you feel more at ease, more yourself with him than with anyone else. The thought is scary but also exhilarating.
Soon, thoughts leave you, as Frankie trails little kisses and nips down your body, spending time on the places he knows make you melt.
You swear he has studied your body like an explorer mapping a territory, one first unknown, until every crevice, slope, and nook has been explored, noted in a part of his brain, and mastered. First, you neck, where you think he leaves a small mark, then a path down to your breasts, where he spends a little more time, both for you and him. He always seems hypnotized by them, loves to touch them, taste them, watch them bounce when he fucks you. Once you are a whimpering mess, once the small noises, gasps, and sighs turn to pleas, he trails to your stomach and then to the crease between your hip and thigh. But he stops when he gets to the part where you want him the most. And all at once, you don't feel him on any part of your body. A moment of unease, and your eyes that were closed under the scarf open. You see light behind the fabric, but it's still dark. You feel the panic rise, the thoughts of not knowing where he is and what he is doing rushing in your mind. Not that you don't trust him, you always will, it's more a sense of not having control that scares you. You hear a shuffle on the covers and two hands touch your hips. "You OK?" from the slight concern in his voice, you know he sensed the unease.
"I'm good."
"You sure?"
"Yes, just a little panic, but I don't want to stop." You know he will ask, so you get ahead of him. For a second, you just feel his warm hands as they grip you a little, and then, without leaving your body, one hand runs down your thigh, calf, and lifts your leg, and you feel the pressure of his mouth on your ankle, then up your leg, your knee. He settles it on his shoulder, and from the position, you know he is kneeling between your legs. He does the same on the other leg, taking his time. He is quiet and apart from the sounds of the kisses and your heavy breathing, nothing breaks the silence. You feel like you are an alter, he is kneeling and praying too, all reverent and worshipful. You feel him shuffling to lie and feel his breath on your core. A slow moan escapes him, and he murmurs, "You are so beautiful." It almost feels like he is telling himself, like it's a prayer he let escape out loud.
You feel the desire sharpening, knowing he is so close, after the time he took taking care of you, you feel the need flow out every pore, it's more: desperation.
"Fuck." That is even more reverent than any thing he has said. He says it like it's paining him, like he is suffering. And when his mouth circles your core, and his tongue grazes your entrance, sighing with contentment, it feels like you are the cure to all his ailments.
He takes time to lavish you, licking and kissing every part of your pussy, but not touching your clit. It's a slow torture that has you fighting once or twice, you restraints, you want to push his face to the place you need him most.
He can hear your moans becoming almost frustrated, the slow chuckle he lets out that reverberates against you is part bliss, part torture. But he soon puts an end to your misery, with a lick, another, oh so light, too light.
Yet you cry out from the feeling. Louder when he kisses your bundle of nerves with more pressure. You know that now he is ready for a kill, using his magic, one that makes you arch underneath him, legs trembling.
When he brings both hands to your nipples and pinches them, it's like electricity runs inside your body, a jolt of pleasure so intense his name is a ragged cry out of your throat.
You can feel the pleasure, you can feel it climbing, the peak you always want to reach, but you never do. The pressure is almost perfect, almost what you need.
Once again, you fight your restraint, you want to show him what you need, you want to pull off the blindfold and watch him take you apart. It's almost too much; you are about to ask him to stop when something snaps in your brain.
It's as if it surrenders, it just decides that since it can't fight, it will go willingly. You feel a form of tension falling out of you, and you imagine the scene painted as if you are floating outside your body and watching from above: you opened up, legs now spread wide on the bed, unable to move, vulnerable, Frankie and his broad shoulder between your thighs, large hands on your breast, and you feel a shiver course through your whole body. You can't fight; you just have to let go and surrender to it.
And then Frankie does something that makes everything go black. One large hand splays on your stomach, preventing you from moving even more, caging you on the bed, a weight that feels so good. You feel his other hand on your core, when two fingers slide inside you effortlessly, pumping a few times, until he adds a third. You feel the stretch, the curve, the thrusts, and combined with his mouth that sucks hard on your clit, lights and colors appear in your vision. It takes you by surprise. It's like you are already on the top of that mountain you were trying to climb. You were stuck mid-course, and Frankie pushed you to the top, and before you realize it, you are coming. Loud cries that sound almost surprised.
"Oh! I'm, I'm com– Frankie!"
And you jump from the summit and fly high, until you fall in bed, spasms shaking every part of your body, while you feel Frankie slowly, taking out his fingers, and kissing his way up to you, all while tracing his hands up your body.
"Oh my god, Frankie, I can't believe it."
You hear him laugh and can feel the pride in there, but also the happiness that you feel this way.
You feel him untying you, massaging your wrist and forearms, then take off the blindfold, and when you finally see, you blink to Frankie's face close to yours. He is a mess, uncombed hair, face slick with you, and a smile so big that his eyes crinkle. It makes you feel something you don't want to name yet, but you think it's too late to go back, as you wrap your arms around him to bring him close to you. He wraps his arm around you, and you lie for a while, basking in the silence.
It's too late to turn back; you have fallen deep and all the way. But you know that it's OK, you wouldn't want it any other way.
Thank you for reading ❤️
tagglist, also adding people who showed interest in the wip and the first story (please let me know if you want to be added/removed): @grogusmum @here-briefly @iknowisoundcrazyreads @javierpenaismyhusband @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler @sawymredfox @cuteanimalmama @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @vindictivegranny @half-moon16 @sin-djarin @whocaresstillthelouvre @hanahleah @missadangel @simpingforjoel @aurorawritestoescape @kirsteng42 @annwrites24 @vodkaandpizza @quinnnfabrgay @littlepedrito @ingoldthewizard @petalsinblood
Summary: The breathtaking moment when Din finally removes his helmet for you, and you get to see his gorgeous face for the very first time…
Rating: General
Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader
Word count: 308
Tags: Intense fluff, Mando’a language
Author’s note: I needed to reverse the GIF I just posted because I want more of his face, not less, and it got my creative juices flowing 😏 So here, have a drabble…
“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.”
The galaxy seems to spin slower as his hands reach for the helmet. Your breath stalls, caught between lungs and throat, as if it knows better than to interrupt this moment. For a heartbeat or two… or maybe ten, you’re suspended in that fragile, trembling space, as your world teeters on the edge of transformation.
Then he lifts it.
Stars.
That’s the first thought that strikes you, sudden and dazzling, like you’ve glimpsed something too bright to stare at directly. Your mind scrambles to comprehend something so long imagined, so carefully hidden, now laid bare before you. His face seems unreal at first – too vivid, too alive, too him.
Your gaze roams his features, awestruck. The strong line of his unshielded jaw. The warm amber of his skin. His expressive eyes, no longer concealed behind the dark visor, but open, searching for connection. And when they find yours, you’re anchored for life.
You don’t realise you’ve stepped closer until the space between you has all but vanished. Your hand rises without conscious thought, drawn in by his gravity, hovering just shy of his cheek. You hesitate, just for a second, just long enough to understand the enormity of this gift.
Then you touch him.
Warmth floods your fingertips, real and grounding, and you almost gasp. This is not the legend, not the mask, not the untouchable warrior bound by his creed.
It’s your husband.
And he’s looking at you like you’re something just as rare.
Your breath escapes in a shaky rush, not quite laughter, not quite tears, but some messy hybrid of wonder and disbelief.
“Hi,” you whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.
But it doesn’t. Instead, his perfect lips form the most beautiful syllable you’ve ever watched being uttered.
“Hi.”
Translations:
Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde – We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors (these are the Mandalorian marriage vows)
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Little Dove | Ezra & Cee | Ezra x reader/ofc | 1,6k
Summary: Ezra and Cee make it off the green, but Ezra is hurt and feverish. He reflects on his past choices as Cee tries to keep him awake.
CW: fever, delirium, angst with a hopeful ending, Ezra is hurt
Reader is abled body and has no physical description, but if you notice anything please let me know she is written in the third person so can also be considered as an ofc.
A/N: This was written for the Summer Tune Challenge hosted by @burntheedges. I'm very late since it was for last summer. But Ezra is a challenging character write 😅
My prompt included the song Exeunt by The Oh Hellos and it is so beautiful I took the liberty to included the lyrics inside the story, while twisting the meaning. I put the lyrics at the end so you see for yourself.
I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !
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Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
The ship is climbing to the space freighter on orbit, leaving behind the chaos and the poisonous land. Cee's face, illuminated by the artificial light in a surrounding of darkness, irradiates as her smile spreads wide. She lets out a relieved sigh watching the metal structure getting closer and closer. Turning her face to share her joy, she notices Ezra's face, sweaty and pale.
"Ezra?" Her uncertain voice quivers, but he doesn't look at her. He seems far away, eyes open on another world, one that isn't real, or just not tangible. She shakes his shoulder, and he looks at her with an empty gaze, like he doesn't see her. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't recognize her. She sees the fever there, and fear grips her. They can't have gone through all of this for him to… No, not again.
"Ezra, talk to me." He seems to focus, showing bewilderment until she sees recognition. And when he speaks, his voice is weak and raspy.
"Birdie, it's you. For a moment, I thought I saw someone from my past. Someone long gone…" he closes his eyes for an instant, and murmurs, "someone from when I was all alone, so young."
Delirious from the fever, his eyes are glazed, all sense of reality is leaving him. She needs him to stay awake.
"Ezra, stay with me. Please stay with me." She wants to cry, to rage at her fate, to be just a child, alone in the universe, with only this person she met a few days ago. She knows how she sounds, scared and young and alone.
Ezra opens his eyes and looks at her. "Don't cry, birdie, don't cry. Tears are wasted on people like me. I have done many bad things, terrible things. Yet I don't regret them, a means to an end… The world feeds on those who do not act." His voice trails, his eyes look far, far away, "But my one regret, my only true regret, is leaving her. Over and over."
As a tear rolls down her cheek, Cee thinks that keeping him talking will keep him awake, that maybe once in the orbiter someone will save him, and she won't be all alone. She clings to this thought desperately, as in the periphery of her vision, the structure gets closer.
"Tell me about her."
His eyes are back on her for a moment, and his hand goes to wipe the tear on her cheek, but the motion exhausts him too much, and he falls back even paler than before, his voice barely above a whisper.
"My little dove, she was like wine, intoxicating and getting better with time. She lived not far, right over the hillside." He stops, struggling to breathe for an instant. Cee almost begs him to continue, but he carries on. "I remember, when I first saw her, emerging through the fog, her voice lovely as a song, her hair blowing in the wind. We were friends for so long. Then lovers. For not as long." She can sense he is ready to stop.
"Ezra, don't fall asleep. Tell me what happened."
"She was my rose, my love, until I left." His eyes close, his breath is ragged, and Cee tries to wake him, calling out his name. He emerges from the haze, only to look at her like she isn't here.
"Ezra, stay with me. We are almost there." But his eyes shut again, and so she does what she can to keep him talking. She almost shakes him, frantic, a hand to his forehead.
"Your little dove, why did you leave her?"
"Greed, birdie, it's the opiate of the green, and it made me go away." He is burning up and speaks with all the fervor he can muster, until he breaks.
"But, you could have gone back? Ezra, please, talk to me!" Her voice is urgent, they have arrived, the ship is sealing to the orbiter, only a few more minutes until they get help.
"I am not the fool I was when I was younger. She would never take me back." And he doesn't speak again.
It's like cotton in his brain. He doesn't know what or where, only that voices are asking, talking, never relenting. One is soft, although scared, that one he knows, that one he trusts. But the others, asking him this and that, those he distrusts. Banishing them away, with words that sound like curses.
"You won't deceive me, I have seen through your crocodile eyes, I have seen how you hunger."
The sweet voice talks again, begging him, asking him to trust. "Please, let them take care of you. You are hurt, and I don't know what to do."
He tries to brush the fear and anguish away from her face, but his arm doesn't comply; he can only whisper, "Don't cry, birdie. I don't like to see you sad."
The world is dark as he falls. Until he wakes, his body plunged into embers, his sight distrusting the light, too bright, like fire devouring his body, his soul, his everything. The voices tell him to keep quiet, to keep still, and let them do their work. He wants to fight, but the little bird pleads, and he relents.
The next time Ezra wakes up, it's too white and bright. The air feels clean, despite, or maybe because of, the smell of disinfectant and death. A hospital.
Next to him, Cee sits in a chair, a book in her hand, the title he can't decipher, eyes unused for too long.
"Birdie", his voice is hoarse from disuse, but she hears him, and she smiles, showing a happiness very few have demonstrated when seeing him. It's pure and true, and he feels the ache of longing because the last time he saw this much joy was by another, his little dove, the one he left behind, and who shut the door on him the last time he tried to come back.
"You scared me."
"How did–?"
"You were feverish, delirious, and once we got to the orbiter, you passed out. The medics took care of you and brought you here."
"But–"
"Don't worry, I didn't tell them anything. You don't need to be afraid."
"I'm not afraid of that, I just… I feel that you had to take care of everything."
"I'm used to it." The simple statement is said with a resolve one shouldn't have for someone so young. But he will unpack this later. Right now, the focus is on what's next, especially with someone to take care of. Because it is settled, surprisingly, in his brain, that he could not let anyone else take care of her. She is his ward, for better or for worse, but he hopes from now on, it will be for better. He is resourceful. But before anything comes to his mind, his eyes gain focus.
"Is that The Streamer Girl?"
The smile is so wide, and the pure joy reflected there makes him laugh as she explains that the book was in the hospital's library, left there, and that it was given to her by one of the nurses. And in this moment, he feels the weight of it all but also the lightness. He isn't alone anymore, and maybe he can turn it all around, make good after all the bad. In his mind, his little dove appears. Maybe they can make it here.
She wipes her forehead, admiring her work. The last shelf has been added to the wall to carry her many books. Sorting them, she reflects on each of them, their stories, and hers. Especially when her eyes set on a book, old and worn from being read over and over. She opens to the front page, to an inscription almost faded, from her running her finger over it. "To my little dove. A story to keep me in your heart, hopefully forever."
Years have passed, life has trickled, leaving its mark on her mind and body. But she will never forget the brown-eyed boy, now a man, the one who broke her heart one too many times. How she waited until she stopped, when promises were made, until they were broken.
She didn't stop her life, she didn't deny herself love and pleasure, but she kept her mind on him, and he kept coming back, with his handsome face and pretty mouth, his words that lulled her into safety, and they always fell back. A pattern of peace, until he felt restless, young and ambitious, wanting so much more for them, promises of wonders and gold, when all she wanted was him and his true words. No more false promises and expeditions that lasted longer and longer.
Until that last time, when she left, when she couldn't give in again, as soon as she heard him say, "Let me go there, one last time," afraid of breaking before he would, remembering him pleading and raging, when she finally said, "This time, I am leaving."
She sometimes regrets her choice, sometimes wonders what would have been, if really it would have been his last time, if really she would have been enough. But she can't live in her head, and so she keeps her mind and hands busy.
But today, as she puts her last book away, as she lets her thoughts linger on the past, she hears a knock, and her heart jumps with a sense of hope. At her door, a girl with a shy smile and a book in her hand. Next to her, her long-lost love, looking like hell, looking like a pale comparison to the man she once knew. Her heart squeezes, her body shivers, her legs nearly buckle. A hesitant smile is one his face.
"Hello, little dove."
I was all alone, we were young, you were like wine
Heady as the fog rolling in o'er the hillside
Lovely as the song in the air as the wind blows
Opiate as the cold of the frost on the windows
Lo, the rose is gone from my eyes, so deceiving
So, my little dove, I'm afraid I am leaving
Now, I am not the fool I was when I was younger
Crocodile eyes, I have seen how you hunger
Fluttering your lashes, like ashes and embers
Warm and bright as fire devouring timber
No, I cannot trust what you say when you're grieving
So, my love, I'm sorry, but still, I am leaving
Even when you hunt me with ire, relentless
Batter down my door when you find me defenseless
I will not abide all your raging and reaving
I have set my mind and my will, I am leaving
taglist - I added some moots who I know love Ezra, I hope you don't mind. Please let me know if you want to be removed it's not a problem, or if you want to be added: @grogusmum @here-briefly @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler @sawymredfox @cuteanimalmama @crumbs-from-the-algonquin @iknowisoundcrazy @paradiselady19 @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @lizzie-cakes @myownwholewildworld @burntheedges @whocaresstillthelouvre @valevntine @milla-frenchy @baronessvonglitter @copperhalfcent @nonbinairyboi @imaswellkid @petalsinblood @oonajaeadira @maggiemayhemnj
It feels so nice to have time (and a Kobo) to get me back to reading all the delicious fic around here. Color me catching up.
DIETER BRAVO
Looser Diffuser 1: Not Like In the Movies by @insomniamamma
Omegaverse, but not like you've read it before. Dieter is a struggling actor who does a commercial for a pheramone plug-in and a free sample gives him more than he bargains for. Reader is a gruff SFX makeup artist and the two hit it off in more ways than one. It's so funny and cute and I love them so much.
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JACK DANIELS
Truly Madly Deeply by @writeforfandoms
Husband!Jack just hits different and sometimes I just need a little fluffy fix. Valentine's Day, staying in, footsie, flowers... I'm set!
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MARCUS PIKE
Stars by @something-tofightfor
I am not a Marcus Pike girlie, but Rachael could definitely persuade me with soft moments like this. It's not a long piece, just long enough for a good night over the phone...
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JAVI GUTERREZ
In Perfect Rhythm by @maggiemayhemnj
The world only gets better with every new Javi fluff fic and this one is certainly doing its part to sweeten all our lives. Of course Javi can't just let you have your anniversary night in go unembellished, of course not. But of course he also does what he can to make it exactly what you need and dream, much like himself.
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EZRA
Dagger by @the-blind-assassin-12
This reads like a heist/conspiracy story and had me hanging on every sentence. Enduring love, found family, a secret corporation plot? Cee as a hacker???? Sign me up!
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CLINT FLOOD
No One Else by @max--phillips
Aaaaaaaaaand here we've got Clint being an absolute effing tease, three full orgasms and a whole lot of fluids on a very beleguered couch. Prep yourself something cool to drink--you're gonna need it after this one.
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FRANKIE MORALES
Just a Nice Guy by @bergamote-catsandbooks
I mean, the title says it all. Isn't he just? Wouldn't he do anything for you? Then why can't you tell him how you feel? How about a little in vino veritas, hm? It's good for you. Go get it.
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DIN DJARIN
Share My Moon by @littlemisspascal
This is part of Rae's Fox and Cupboard universe where many of the Pedro boys (and their surrounding characters) have a place in a world with a bit of a cottagecore magic to it. This particular chapter looks at some backstory and I appreciate it so much for building more richness into the world Rae has built. There are so many connections between the characters, and a childhood love is so appropriate for Din.
,
SPECIAL GUEST: GROGU
untitled by @grogusmum
Go get your fluff on and check out what the green baby's up to! I love that he loves chickens so much and observes them like he does.
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GENERAL ACACIUS
Roman Holiday by @missredherring
In just a few sentences, Rachel's able to invoke the sadness of Acacius' fate while giving us hope that he finally ends up with everything he truly deserves. <3
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OBERYN MARTEL
Simple Treasures by @prolix-yuy
One of my favorite things in an Oberyn story is when he DGAF. He loves whom he loves and he makes sure anyone who has stupid reasons for not feeling the same is going to look foolish for finding petty fault. And so when Oberyn presents you--a common gardener--to court as his lover, the only thing he cares about is your comfort. And I'm a puddle.
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JOEL MILLER
Cosmic Disruption by @lowlights
This is so sweet, and just like Joel to use the skills that are easy for him to celebrate something that means the world to someone he cares about. Laura gets it. Laura knows you love a solar eclipse and Joel's gonna make sure you enjoy it.
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MULTIPLE PEDRO BOYS
The Undertaker by @blueeyesatnight
Am I late to this one? Very. But I feel like this series was written just to destroy me. Does it deal with death? Very much so. Death of Pedro boys? Yup. Ghosts of Pedro boys? Hoh boy, you're in for fun times. Blue knows exactly what some men might have to say about themselves and their lives once they're no longer in it. But even with that tasty story premise, she also weaves a story of family and legacy around it, making the reader's life just as precious as the way she handles those that leave it behind. Just gorgeous. There's a chapter here that involves a very sweet Javi G sequence and it kinda sent me for a spin for a couple of days. All I'm saying is, every chapter is different and deals with "moving on" in a different way, and one of them is gonna hit you more than others. Like death, you may not know when it's coming, so have tissues on hand just in case...
When a Feather-Light Touch is Agony | Din Djarin x f!reader | 4,9k
Summary: You own a small repair shop on Nevarro, where you settled to build yourself a new and quiet life. It just so happens you developed a good friendship with a Mandalorian and his son. But is it just friendship?
CW: alcohol, too much drinking, hangover, a little bit of angst, fluff, no smut here, Grogu being adorable, Din is not good with feeling, friends to lovers.
Reader is abled body and has no physical description, but if you notice anything please let me know.
A/N: This was written as part of the PPCU Fandom Writing Challenge on Tumblr organized by @pedroscurls
My prompt was "Someone's has a little too much to drink" and this is what I came up with. I would also like to point out that the title is actually from a scientific article I found while I was looking up for the different spellings of featherlight/feather-light 🤭
I want to thank a few people who have been very helpful while I was writing this, listening to me babble about it and giving me good advices: @sawymredfox @petalsinblood & @iknowisoundcrazy ily ♥️
Mando'a translations and notes at the end.
I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !
Main masterlist | Read on AO3
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
The sun was starting its descent on the rocky, deserted land of Nevarro, all barren and dry. Despite this, you couldn't help but love this planet, and especially this time of the day, when the sun started to skim the roofs of the low buildings of Nevarro City, casting an orange light that made the metal and stone glimmer like gold. It wasn't much, but the bustling town had grown on you since you arrived a little over a year ago.
You'd heard about the change, about how this planet became a place of peace in the outer rim, somewhere where one could start their lives over, as long as they brought something to the community. It prompted you to come and seek out the tranquility and carve yourself a quiet life, after years of oppression, wars, and now rebuilding hope in these uncertain times.
You opened your little repair shop. It wasn't much, but just enough to keep you busy and earn decent money. Apart from small appliances and droid repairs, you sold parts, pieces, and trinkets, and quickly grew a steady and faithful clientele.
It wasn't closing time, but today had been slow, and you were thinking of calling it a day, when you noticed a bright shape down the street, walking toward your shop, the figure shimmering with the low sun, almost blinding you.
"If it isn't my favorite Mandalorian!" You called out once he was close enough to hear you, a smile spread wide on your face. He wasn't only your favorite Mandalorian, he was your favorite customer.
"I'm your only Mandalorian customer." His voice was even, indicating he wouldn't fall for your teasing. A well-rehearsed act that only prompted you to tease him more.
"That's not true, you brought Bo-Katan a few times, and that other guy, the tall, imposing, and disapproving one."
The Mandalorian looked at you without a word, and you knew exactly what this meant. Or maybe you didn't, and you had always been reading him wrong, but he never seemed to mind, so you went on.
"I mean taller and more imposing than you, even though you are very tall and very imposing. But never as disapproving as you."
A modulated sigh was your reward. You took it as a win and let him off the hook for the time being.
"What brings you to my little pocket of sunshine in this maker-forsaken place, Mando?"
Wait, was that… A chuckle? You were sure you heard one underneath the gruff and stoicism. But it didn't last, and he soon started explaining the part he was looking for to repair a kitchen appliance.
As you rummaged through your stock of small parts, what could be considered like meaningless shit to some, but small treasures to you, you sensed him brooding. More than usual. Not that he had ever been big on small talk, but right now, he was so quiet and tense you could feel it irradiating from him.
"What's the matter?"
Silence was his only answer.
"Come on, pal, I know you, even in your silence, you seem more sullen than usual."
"Nothing." He snapped.
"Fine." You rolled your eyes but let it be; if he didn't want to talk, you weren't going to force him. But after a minute, he sighed, and you knew he caved. You couldn't help the little smirk, happy your back was still turned to him, so he wouldn't see it.
"Grogu is at a sleepover. And I'm worried."
"About what? That he'll eat too many sweets and be sick? Watch a scary holo and have nightmares? Cause I want to say, that's a normal experience for a kid his… well I was going to say his age, but you know what I mean."
Another sigh. This one sounds defeated, almost like he was saying, "You're right."
You turned around to look at him. Even if you liked teasing him, you knew this was new to him, and it was important to show him support. You sat on a stool, behind the counter of your little shop. No one was going to show up, and you had time to help out a friend. Because that's what he was: a friend. And a good one at that. In the past months, since he had been your customer, since he settled permanently on Nevarro, what started as a business acquaintance soon became a form of mutual respect, from talking to each other about work, to actually knowing each other's lives. Not all of it, but still. You didn't do much other than chat when he came over to buy stuff, or when you randomly met in the town. It wasn't like you went out for drinks or dinner, since he couldn't really…. But you were at the level of friendship where silences (his mostly) were comfortable, and chatting (you mostly) didn't feel forced. You even had the occasional evening out when there was a holo showing or something fun for Grogu to attend. It was comfortable, and you liked it. And you liked him. A lot. Maybe a little more than as a friend. Although you didn't allow yourself to go there.
After a hesitation, he sat on the stool next to yours, his back on the street, his helmet seeming to stare into the back of your little shop, where your small living unit was.
"It's just… It's the first time we've been apart so long, since all of the… stuff. And I can't help but be worried." You were privy to the past events of Grogu's life. It had been the moment your relationship had transitioned to something deeper, when you both confided in secrets you kept. How he came to be in charge of Grogu, what your past during the empire had been.
You took a second to think about what you could say to bring him comfort. "I think that's what being a parent is all about. And I think it's a good thing you care." You pat him on the arm. Physical touch wasn't something that happened often between you, as much as you knew about him and his people, you didn't know much about the boundaries they had, though you had gathered his, as you'd noticed he tended to shy away from it. He tensed whenever you brushed past him. But you knew an occasional brief pat on the arm was OK. And you wanted to show some warmth and kindness in a form other than words.
"Just, don't let it eat you up. What are your plans for the evening?"
"Not much, repairing that blending machine and … I guess nothing else until I pick him up tomorrow after lunch."
"Ouch, that's a long time with nothing to do… What don't you–" You stopped, feeling like what you were about to offer maybe crossed a line, but at the same time, this was exactly what you would have offered any of your friends. "Do you want to stay for a drink and a game of Sabbac? I'm sure we could find an arrangement for the drinking." Waving at his whole figure, "I can even offer some food. And at least you wouldn't be spending the whole evening alone."
You sensed him hesitating. But he didn't say no straight away. You knew him well enough to know that if he didn't want to, he would have said so. So you tried to give him another reason for him to stay.
"I got a bottle of Toniray wine that I've been wanting to open." You were sure that behind his helmet, his eyebrows had raised when he heard the name.
"How did you get a bottle of Toniray?"
"I traded it for some parts a couple of months ago."
"I thought you didn't trade."
"I do actually, just not with you. You have plenty of credits. And you never offered me extremely rare wine. Also, the people I did business with–" You hesitated for a bit, before giving as much information as you could, not wanting to betray their trust, "Let's just say, that's all they had, and they needed those parts quickly."
"I knew there was a soft heart under all this hard shell."
"Din! Are you actually teasing me?"
You rarely used his name, the one he gave you a few months ago, after you had walked almost all afternoon, one day when he met you by chance at the market, with Grogu in tow. First, the little fellow was walking (jumping really) to catch up with both of you, even with your slow pace. Then he asked to be held in your arms, and lastly he fell asleep in his father's arms, after munching on a variety of food, in such quantity you wondered where he stored it in his tiny body. Another milestone in your friendship. Trust growing so much that you told him your true name, the one you left behind when you left your life after everything. Not that it meant anything really, you had long changed it, but it felt nice saying it out loud. And he, in turn, told you his. It was shortly after that that he told you about Grogu.
Thinking about it, you felt your heart swell again, and you just knew it was so much more than a crush you were feeling for this man. But as always, you tempered it, because he never showed any inclination toward you. You didn't even know if he ever felt anything romantic or whatever toward anyone. That was not something he had ever shared with you.
You used that name with caution, only using it on special occasions. And Din teasing you was one of those. The chuckle he let out was worth it, because maker, you felt hot all over as you got up from your seat to grab the part he asked for.
"Do you want to play this? If you win, you don't have to pay me?"
"And if you win?"
What you wanted to say was not what you ended up saying: "You pay me the full price, no friends discount."
"You never give me any discount."
"Oh, but I do. I just don't tell you." There was a little moment, suspended, where you feel his disbelief, until he cloaked your earnest face. Something like embarrassment seemed to overtake both of you. Until he extended his hand.
"Deal." You took it and shook it. He squeezed your hand, and you both held it a little longer than necessary.
—
"Fine, you win!" You threw your cards on the table, sulking a little. You thought you would trick him when you offered to play Shah-tezh, since it was a game of strategy, and one you were very good at. But you had forgotten who your adversary was, and how clever he was.
"Don't sound so surprised."
"Well, to be honest, I didn't think you would, but I guess it's a fair win."
"It is." He sounded pleased with himself, almost smug, and you couldn't help but snort.
You were enjoying a slightly tipsy Din. And slightly tipsy you. The arrangement was easy; you had two boards, so each one of you could have one, while not facing each other. You just had to move the pieces of the adversary and your own on the board in front of you. And that way, Din could sneak in a drink or two, lifting his helmet without you seeing anything.
You knew you should have eaten a bit because you were feeling a little lightheaded and loose. But the feeling was exhilarating. And the silence that followed felt warm.
"Where did you learn to play this?" Din's voice was different; you heard the sound of a gulp, he was talking without his helmet, and the voice you heard made your insides fuzzy. It wasn't the first time tonight, but you never got used to it.
"I spent a part of my childhood years in a rebel camp on Seikosha, my parents were mechanics there, and there was a group of pilots that took me under their wing. I played a lot with them. Learned a lot of stuff.
"Like how to scrape parts from speeders and ships?" Teasing you again, tonight was a night of surprises.
"Yeah, and from pretty much everything." Your voice let show a little of the longing you felt for that time, when you felt invincible, when you thought you would win the war, without any losses or damages. "What about you?"
"It's a good skill to have when you travel the galaxy."
"That doesn't answer my question."
He sighed, modulated, this time. You were about to change the subject, feeling he didn't want to go there.
"I worked with a group of mercenaries, not my best moment in life. There was this brother and sister who would love to play it and challenge everyone, it was hard to say no. Eventually, I became very good at it, better than them, actually."
He left a lot unsaid, and you should have left it at that, but you couldn't help yourself.
"It feels like there is some story behind this with… the sister? Or the brother!" You wanted him to feel like whatever he said, it would be OK.
"Xi'an, the sister."
You can't help yourself, you turn around, eager for more information.
"Oooooh! Sounds like drama! What happened?"
"It… she wasn't… It was unhealthy. Toxic, I hated them, hated what we did, just kind fell into this… thing. It didn't end well." He sounded so remorseful that it made you regret prying.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried." You said with a low voice.
"It's OK."
You felt bad, you had made him tell you something that he didn't want to talk about. He had always been very private about, well, about his private life. You should have known better, but your curiosity had made him uncomfortable. You felt like you owed him a little of yourself as a trade-off.
"Do you want to know about my worst relationship?"
Din's head perked up, and he finally turned to face you. You had his undivided attention.
"I dated a pilot when I was working on Coruscent as a senator's assistant–"
"You what?" He interrupted, his astonishment evident, but you waved your hand. "Another story for another time. Anyway, he was away a lot, I was still young and naive, and I listened to all his stories and promises. Until one day his wife came to my door to explain he was actually a droid mechanic, had two kids, and was currently in jail for gambling debts."
"No."
"Yes."
"I hope he got what he deserved for the duplicity." His voice sounded a little angry for you.
"His wife did leave him, and I had my little revenge, but I lost my innocence in a way. And I haven't trusted many people since."
"I haven't either."
The stillness that followed felt like a shared understanding, something like recognition between two people who had learned through disappointment and didn't let many people in. It was heavy, and you didn't want to linger on it. You gulped down your glass of wine and redirected the conversation to something lighter.
The evening turned to night, as you both talked and drank, trading stories that were part dark, part fun, secrets about parts of the galaxy you'd both been to. Until the bottle was empty, until it was too late to eat anything, until you were both so out of it, you were both slumped on your chairs. But eventually it was time to call it a night.
When Din got up, he staggered a little and almost fell back on his seat.
"Wow, easy there. Someone's had a little too much to drink."
"I'm fine." He said as he tried to stand straight, but failed and grabbed the table to steady himself.
"You aren't walking home in that state, you can crash here and get home in the morning."
In the same state, you weaved him to your couch, pressing a button that flattened the back, turning it into a bed, and eased him down.
"You're gonna be alright?" you asked him as you stood up, ready to walk away. Instead of answering, his hand grabbed your wrist, holding you tight, but also tenderly, his gloved thumb slowly caressing the palm of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.
"Mesh'la." His voice was so low you barely heard the strange word he said, but the tone in which he said it made your body warm and your already fuzzy brain get even more troubled, ready to do or say something you shouldn't. But before you could, the hand pulled you a little closer. "Stay."
"Din." It was all you could think of saying. He wasn't in his right mind, and neither were you. You shouldn't comply with whatever he was suggesting, even if he wasn't really suggesting anything bad, even if you wanted to lie next to him. But you felt the threshold, the bridge you were about to cross, the cliff you were about to jump. This thing right here, it would change everything between you, you sensed it in your bones.
"Please." He didn't hide the plea in his voice, didn't hide the vulnerability.
And that is all it took for you to cave, to settle next to him, his arm around your shoulder. You thought it would be uncomfortable, but your head found a soft spot, right in the crook of his shoulder, your own arm tentatively settling around his torso. You couldn't help but whisper, "I don't want this to change the way we are, I don't want you to regret anything."
"Cyari'ka, I'll never regret anything when it comes to you." You both squeezed each other, settling and sighing with content. Your world was spinning a little, you just didn't know if it was from the drink or from the way your life was about to change.
You woke up with a headache and a foul taste in your mouth. But apart from this, you felt at peace. Holding something warm and cold, large. No, not something. Someone. You opened an eye, light shining from the window showing a dark and shiny form in front of you. It was on its side, and you were holding it like a giant plushy. You barely had time to grasp the situation that last night's event came rushing back in your brain: how you fell asleep in Din's arms, the state you both were in, the words he had said, what did it mean?
Slowly, as if not to wake you up, the form untangled from your arms, sat on the couch, and sighed. A deep sigh that broke your heart a little. It sounded full of remorse. Din's head turned to you, and he noticed your open eyes. You could see him shrink himself a little, his head into his shoulder. If you were already uncertain, now you knew, he deeply regretted whatever had happened last night. Not that anything did happen, but–
"I have to go get Grogu." And in a swift motion, he stood and left the room. You barely had time to get up and call after him that he was gone, leaving your little place as empty as your own heart was feeling.
As you sat back on the couch, head spinning, your gaze fell on the parts he left. And you wondered if you should bring it back to him or just let it be and accept that you might probably never really see him again.
Standing in front of Din and Grogu's front door, you were second-guessing yourself. You had the parts with you as an excuse for this visit, but maybe you shouldn't have come. Maybe you should have waited for Din to come and get them if he really needed them. Letting him choose his own terms and his own time. You had almost turned around twice, the walk to Din and Grogu's cabin on the outskirts of the city taking longer because of your indecision.
Before you could turn away or knock, since you still hadn't decided what to do, the door opened as if on its own. No one was on the other side until your gaze was drawn down by a small coo. Grogu was there, smiling at you, as if he had been expecting your arrival. Your nerves ease for a bit, and you knelt to greet the kid.
"Hi, Grogu! How was your sleepover?" to which he proceeded to answer with his own words. By the tone and the way his ears, eyes, and mouth turned upward, you just knew he had had a good time.
Upon meeting him and Din, you quickly realized that Grogu understood basic perfectly well, even if sometimes he acted like he didn't, he just couldn't express himself the same way.
Grogu motioned with his little arm the inside of the house, with a questioning sound.
"I'm sorry, kid, I'm just going to leave these parts for your dad and go back home." But as soon as you had finished your sentence, the man himself appeared in the doorway, "Grogu, where are you? I told it's time for dinner–" His voice breaking as he noticed you, and you got up from your position.
"Sorry, I didn't want to intrude on dinner time, you forgot– I'm just– Sorry." You faltered, unable to bring yourself to look at him.
Handing him the items, you turned around, but both Grogu's small whine and Din's "Wait!" made you stop and turn your head to them.
You saw them looking at each other, a silent question from Grogu from the turn of his ears, and a silent answer from Din as he nodded ever so slightly. The way they were both connected, the deep bond they had for each other, made you feel something like longing.
"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Din's question surprised you, but you managed to look at him when you answered.
"I don't want to impose."
"Please." He didn't hesitate, and his tone was almost the same as last night when he uttered that same exact word. It felt like he wanted you to stay as much as Grogu wanted.
"OK." You smiled shyly as you entered the house.
Dinner was a pleasant affair. Grogu made most of the conversation, happily eating, showing interest in your plate, babbling cheerfully, and you couldn't help but ease a bit. It almost felt like before, and maybe this was how it would go, forgetting anything had happened and resuming a friendship, albeit a little awkward for some time, until everything was back to normal.
After dinner, Grogu wanted to play with you a bit, and you entertained him before his bedtime, until Din declared it was time for bed. You were ready to leave, but before you could even stand up from the floor where you had been tossing a ball with the child, Din's stare behind his helmet pinned you in place.
"Please. Stay. I need to–. Just stay. Please."
"Of course."
Sitting on the couch, your fingers worrying a loose thread on your tunic, you couldn't help but go over every possible outcome of the conversation that was about to happen. At dinner and after, with how the evening had been, it felt almost impossible to guess what might happen. Last night, Din had said he wouldn't regret anything, yet this morning, he seemed like he did. But now, he was open again. And what about you? Should you risk jeopardizing a friendship by admitting your own feelings? Too soon, Din was back.
"Thank you for staying." He said, as he sat on a chair, across from you. It wasn't far, but it felt like a mile had been put between you, and you couldn't help but feel that this was intended. A silence settled, enveloping both of you in its wake, casting an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach and nervousness in both of you.
"I'm sorry about this morning." Finally, Din broke the stillness. "About last night, I shouldn't…" but he stopped, his helmet looking down, at his own hands. He let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm not good with words."
"Allow me to say something first, then." His helmet turned to you, and even without seeing his face, you could feel the emotions on his body, relief that you were taking the lead in the conversation, but also tension at what you were about to say. In that moment, you knew you owed yourself the truth.
"Din, I trust you, and you trust me. I want us to be honest with each other." He nodded, and you continued. "Last night, you said you wouldn't regret it, but I think you do. And that's OK. I don't want this to get between us."
He motioned to speak, but you held your hand out to prevent him from talking. You needed to say it all now. "I like you, Din. I really do. As a friend, as maybe one of my best friends now that I come to think of it. You know probably more about me than most." You frowned a little as you said this, realizing in the moment how true this was, how in a few months, this person had become the one person who knew you the best. "But I also have other feelings for you. Feelings that go beyond friendship. I have never said anything, because I didn't want to ruin what we have. And if you don't want this, for whatever reason, I respect it. Because I don't want to lose you. I really don't. So I need you to know it's OK if you don't feel the same. It really is."
During this speech, you stared at your lap. You couldn't look at him because it would have taken away all your bravery, so you didn't see him move, you only felt him sit next to you once you had finished, and felt him take both your hands that were wringing together, the only testimony to your anxiety.
"Cyare." That's all he said at first. When you face lifted to him, one of his hands went to your cheek, delicately stroking it, with the same care he had shown before he asked you to stay last night. You stared at where his eyes might be, willing him to say words that would help quiet all the thoughts and questions in your head.
"You are also the person who knows me the most, and I wouldn't want anything to come between our friendship. But I also have other feelings, and it's been hard keeping them quiet."
A small gasp was all you could muster, as you felt his helmet delicately rest on your forehead. You let your eyes close in reverence, knowing the meaning of this gesture, the intimacy it held for him, and now for you.
The moment stayed suspended in time, one of his hands still holding your cheek, your own slowly going to his helmet, not touching his skin but still giving your touch the same reverence as if you were. And the breath he let out made you shiver with desire.
"Cyar'ika, –" His voice was full of longing, and it was almost too much. But curiosity will always make you ruin the best moments.
"What does it mean?"
He chuckled in response before answering. "It means something like sweetheart, but it's not exactly that. Cyare means beloved, Cyar'ika darling, or sweetheart."
"It's beautiful." He hummed, and his helmet moved slowly away. You knew his eyes were staring at your own, as he asked, almost shyly, "Would you like to stay here tonight?"
"I would very much. But… How would it work?" You can't help but ask the question, feeling suddenly timid.
"We don't have to do anything. I would actually maybe prefer if we didn't. I would like to take it slow if it's OK with you." His voice sounded a little uncertain, and you couldn't help the warm feeling that went through you, as you discovered this side of him. Someone soft, with insecurities, as mighty and scary as he seemed. It made him so much more human. And you fell a little harder.
"Of course." You reassured him.
"I won't keep my armor, but I will keep my helmet."
"And the flight suit?" You were greedy, you knew it. Greedy for his touch and for his skin. But when he hesitated, you felt bad for having asked too much."You don't have to take it off. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. I'll never ask for anything you aren't ready to give."
"I… I don't know." His voice was a little uneasy.
"How about we take it one step at a time?" Your hand caught his gloved one, and you brought it to your mouth, your eyes asking a question he answered with a slight nod. You kissed the covered palm, feeling the leather on your lips, and hearing his breath hitch at the sensation. The tension left his body, and he answered.
Toniray is sparkling wine from Alderaan. It was already pretty rare, even before Alderaan was destroyed by the Galactic Empire.
Shah-tezh is a strategy game for two players that looks a lot like chess.
taglist (please let me know if you want to be removed it's not a problem, or if you want to be added!): @grogusmum @here-briefly @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler @sawymredfox @cuteanimalmama @crumbs-from-the-algonquin @iknowisoundcrazy @paradiselady19 @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @lizzie-cakes @myownwholewildworld @burntheedges @whocaresstillthelouvre @valevntine @milla-frenchy @baronessvonglitter @copperhalfcent @nonbinairyboi @imaswellkid @petalsinblood @djarins-cyare
series summary:
September 26th. The day the world went dark, you were on the other side of the country, separated from the love of your life
For 20 years, you and Joel have been surviving, unaware of what happened to each other, until your paths finally cross again
warnings: 18+ mdni
Angst, smut, love story, soulmates reunited, alt pov, time jumps
Explicit warnings in each part
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 (soon)
a/n: this series has been on my mind for a very, very long time. Three parts are almost written, I'm not sure how many there will be. 4 at least, maybe 5 or 6? We'll see where reader and Joel lead us ❤️
Thanks @aurorawritestoescape for listening to me talk/scream/cry about it for so long, and @sawymredfox for all your ideas and thoughts 💕❤️
Let me know if you want to be tagged 🙏
npt: tagging those who showed interest in the wip ❤️
regni rerumque oblite tuarum? - Aeneid by Virgil
(Mercury to Aeneas: you forget your kingdom and destiny?)
|| MDNI 18+ smut, angst, fluff, oh my! Marcus Acacius x reader, secret relationship, marcus is not married, so much latin but I have a study guide beneath the cut for you, hurt/comfort, arguments, man handling, kissing, praise, dirty talk, riding, f!receiving oral, pinv, marcus is a large man, creampie, breeding kink, no y/n, no daddy kink, domestic dirty talk lol ||
a/n I: Mercury is one of the Roman gods and is known for delivering divine messages between worlds. I took Latin in highschool so my knowledge is finally being used but still I am dependent on google for many things so please forgive any inaccuracies!
a/n II: this is my submission for @pedroscurls's ppcu dialogue challenge. my dialogue was "you can't, or you won't?" tysm!! x
wc: 6.5k
roman vocab (oh, dr c if you could see me now)
domine: lord, master, a title meant for respect
nuntia: messenger, female
mea cara: my beloved
Kalends of Iunius: first of June
filia mercurii: daughter of mercury
Augusti: plurual of Augustus, which was the title of emporers
fututores: fuckers
vir meus: my husband
It is far too hot to be traveling.
Although it is nearly evening, sweat runs down the bare column of your neck, stinging where the sun pressed for hours against your topmost vertebrae before falling down the length of your spine.
It does not matter. You know this plainly. It does not matter if the tender flesh between your toes rubs raw against dry leather, nor if your shoulders burn beneath Sol’s temper on this early spring day, his bright chariot riding closer than it should as it dragged the sun too near to the earth. Perhaps the God has taken offense to the season prior—winter was harsh, spring slow yet eager to bloom, fields finally thin with green, but mostly thick and swampy with mud and muck. Perhaps it is punishment for some forgotten slight. The gods have long memories, after all.
It makes little difference. As Sol shows no mercy to the road, the Augusti show none to the general who must ride it.
At last you see it in the distance.
At last.
You take in cream colored linen tents, risen from earth like ant hills, dirtied with mud and blood from many months of rain and storms and fighting. They stand raised by wooden poles as their horses graze nearby in half made paddocks where the grass has already been turned to mud by hooves and soldiers’ boots.
It takes some time to find him.
He is not seated within some grand pavilion at the heart of the encampment. There are no guards planted stiffly at any of the entrances, no noise of revelry spilling out into the early evening air. No drunken laughter rolling between the tents, no clatter of cups or men grown loud and foolish on too much wine.
Instead there is the quieter life about the camp.
You hear the light clatter of dishes somewhere within the rows of tents as soldiers settle down for evening rations. There is a slow rasp of iron on stone as one draws their blade along a whetstone. You see a few with wrapped linen and gauze around wounds. Some around an arm or a leg, one covering a bloodied eye. Here and there small cookfires burn low, men crouched beside them writing letters in the fading light of day, heads bent over wax tablets or scraps of parchment that you will carry back across the empire.
You draw your tote closer to your side as you pass and a few of them look up.
Curiosity follows you down the narrow lane between the tents. It is not often someone like you walks through a legionary camp. And the of a woman besides. You know it is more skin than most of them have seen in months, perhaps longer. You halfheartedly assess your own clothing, obscenely aware of how short your tunic is, how much skin you are showing, originally only to keep yourself cool but now seems egregiously unsafe. Your shoulders and arms, supple but reddened by the road, catch their eyes as you move. You quicken your pace.
A soldier’s encampment is not known for gentleness, nor patience, and certainly not for manners.
The tent you seek blends in with the others, set just behind the line of command tents where the officers take their counsel. Larger than the rest, though not ostentatious, its linen walls are marked with the same dust and weather as every other shelter in the camp. A vexillum has been driven into the earth beside it, a square Roman battle flag bearing the general’s insignia that stirs lazily in the warm breeze.
You step inside with little ceremony to see three men standing around a wooden table, the dim interior lit by oil lamps that flicker at your intrusion.
To his left—a soldier, hardened, wearing a cuirass across his chest and a hand resting near his hilt of his gladius. Habit, surely, would not allow it far from reach.
To his right, a young officer or clerk, ink-stained fingers clutching a wax tablet, a stylus poised in the air where he had been taking down orders.
And in the middle, the man you seek. Taller and broader than either of those beside him, dark curls fallen loose across a battle-worn brow. He fills the space entirely as your eyes find him before you can force them elsewhere.
All three of them look up the moment you enter.
“Domine,” you greet, bowing your head. “I bring word.”
The general, immense in his stillness, studies you in silence. You can't see it, but you can feel the slow weight of his gaze travel from your swollen feet to your sunburnt cheekbones and the frazzled crown of braids atop your head.
“Leave us,” he commands.
The men do not question him. They wouldn't dare. The faint stir of air from their passing brushes your skin as they slip past you and out of the tent into the evening.
You keep your head bent out of respect, avoiding his eye, and your hand is clenching the leather strap of your bag hard as you wait for his next command.
"The city sends nuntia into war now? In the state we are in?" he asks, though you're not entirely sure if you're meant to answer.
He exhales through his nose and drops the small stone marker he had been holding between his fingers. Several more lie scattered across the campaign map spread over the table, marking roads, river crossings, and the positions of men.
"Come." he commands, and you dare not disobey.
You move around the table and stop before him. Slowly you lift your chin, first to his chest, then to his face. You take in the unshaven line of his strong jaw, the aquiline nose carved hard against the last of the sunlight bathing the tent, oil lamps already lit around you. There are cuts on his face, and you count them while you wait for his next order. Some of them are earned over the long, grinding months of war, others fresh enough that the skin around them is angry red.
But you do not look in his eyes.
You see the movement before you feel him— a shift of his shoulder as you keep your gaze averted, and a quiet breath leaves him as he steps closer. Then the rough pads of his fingers find your face. He catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifts, carefully forcing your gaze up to meet his.
The moment your eyes find his, you feel a thick lump rise in your throat. They are dark as honey left too long in the sun, warm and brown and far gentler than a man like him ought to possess as they look down upon you.
"You should not be here," he whispers.
Your shoulders fall, a deep lungful leaving your chest that you didn't realize you'd been holding. "Domine—"
“You should not be here,” he says again, firmer now, the voice of a formidable general growling out his demands, even when the words are meant only for you. His brows draw together as he looks down at you, the line of his jaw tightening. “We stand on the brink of another attack and I cannot—”
He stops himself, shaking his head once as if the rest of the thought is not meant to be spoken, and drops his hand from your face. Your skin still burns where his fingers had rested, the ghost of his touch seared there even as it disappears.
“I bring word, Domine,” you tell him again, steady despite the painful tightness gathering in your throat. “That is all.”
"That is all." he echoes in disbelief, a scoff forced from his lips. “If that is all, why not wait until I return to Roman soil? Why come here, where I am commanded to bring war to people who do not deserve it? Why must you come here, where I am unable to keep you safe?”
"It cannot wait, Domine—"
“Please,” he says, cutting you off. His voice softens, though the frustration still sits in it. “Do not call me that, mea cara.”
Your lips press tightly together, the muscles of your face drawing taut, and he turns away from you then, dragging a rough hand across his own face, thick fingers scarred and hardened from long years spent beside Mars himself.
You hesitate.
But at last you reach into your leather satchel, and even you cannot ignore how badly your hand trembles as you retrieve the scroll sealed shut with violent red wax.
“This order comes from the twin Augusti,” you say at last, though it is more of a croak, and you hold it out to him behind his back.
The general turns only slightly, glancing toward you over the breadth of his shoulder, and it is only then you realize he is still wearing portions of his armor. The plates gleam faintly in the dimming room, light warming the already golden cast of his skin.
"Read it to me."
You lick your dried lips. You're not sure you have such courage.
But in the end, you obey, and break the seal.
The wax cracks beneath your thumb, loud in the quiet of the tent, and you unroll the parchment with careful hands, forcing your voice steady as you begin to read.
“By command of the divine Augusti, guardians of Rome and fathers of the empire,” you begin, the formal language already turning bitter on your tongue, “let it be known that Marcus Acacius, General of Rome, who has long served the will of the empire with sword and discipline, is hereby ordered to secure the continuance of his bloodline for the strength and stability of the state.”
The words feel heavier the further you go.
“The Senate and the Augusti alike have deemed it necessary that the house of Acacius not fall barren. Therefore the general is commanded to take lawful wife before the Kalends of Iunius, and to produce an heir worthy of Rome.”
You swallow.
“The names of suitable brides of noble Roman houses have been prepared and await the general’s choosing upon his return to the capital.”
Your finger grow weak, your voice even weaker, shaky now, as the parchment shakes in your hands, and you barely can make out the last words.
“This decree is issued in the interest of Rome, whose strength rests not only upon conquest, but upon the endurance of those who carry her name forward.”
His head hangs heavy as he stares down at the campaign table before him. He has turned, and both of his hands come to rest upon it as though he must brace himself there, his gaze fixed upon the map spread beneath his palms, the small stones marking the positions of his men staring back at him with indifference.
“They send me across the empire to spill blood for them,” he mutters finally, the bitterness in his voice low and restrained. “And now they would have me breed for them as well.”
He lifts one of the stones between his fingers, turning it slowly before letting it fall back onto the board with a dull clatter.
“And they sent you to carry this message to me.”
“I was ordered to.”
“Yes,” he replies quietly, his eyes still fixed upon the map. “You always are.”
You shift your weight as you set down the letter on his table. The leather of your sandals creaks softly against the packed earth as you gather the last of your courage.
"One of the women picked for you is the daughter of Senator Gracchus and she…" you clear your throat, "I hear she is blessed by Venus in her looks. She would make a good wife."
Somewhere during your speaking he has crossed the space between you.
He stands before you now like a shadow fallen over the room, his broad shoulders and unruly hair cutting the light from the oil lamps until you feel swallowed by his presence.
His hands find your hips as if it had not been weeks since your last meeting, but as easily as though they had never forgotten the place they belong. And though there is a faint, infuriating grin upon his mouth, his touch is warm and welcome through the thin fabric of your tunic, resting against the leather cord at your waist as he draws you nearer by a fraction.
You were used to this: the rough country of his hands, wide and cracked and certain upon your waist. This, you see, was commonplace for the two of you. You would come to deliver his letters to his expansive villa—usually orders of the next country to march upon or plans for a day of leave—and he would shoo away his servants so he could take you into his hands and bend you over the nearest lectus to fuck you utterly spent. He would feed you Rome's best wine and cheese, take you a time or two more, and send you back on your way with his reply.
But this was nothing like those times. The memories only burn as you think of them now.
“Gracchus,” he repeats, the faintest curl of amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth. “That miserable old slug.”
Your hands come up at once against his chest, pushing lightly at the hard plates of armor.
“Domine, don't—”
“And this daughter of his,” he continues, paying no mind to your protest as his thumbs press idly against your hip bones, “she is very beautiful, you say?"
“Yes,” you answer stiffly, still trying to push him away. “That is what I hear.”
He studies you with dark eyes moving slowly over your face as though the answer to his riddle rests somewhere upon it.
“I see,” he murmurs, leaning down into you.
Your palms press harder against his armor.
“Stop this jest,” you insist, your voice tightening despite your effort to remain composed. “You must treat the matter with the gravity it demands. They require an answer.”
His smile widens enough to show his teeth.
“Why…” he asks quietly, his lips moving though his words are scarcely above a whisper, “should I trouble myself with the spoiled daughter of a Senator…”
His fingers tighten in your tunic, drawing you even nearer still until there is scarcely any space left between you. His hips press flush against yours, his warmth insistent through the fabric and plated steel keeping you apart.
“…when I already have the most beautiful woman standing in my tent?”
"Enough of this, do not be so insolent." you finally shove him away, and he lets you go. His hands fall, but his gaze does not.
"I have no need for one of their hand picked maidens, cara, for you are the only woman I desire." His voice is low again, "So take my hand, my name, take everything I am and be my wife."
Your hand flies up to strike him before you have time to think of his proposition. The smack of your palm meeting his face cracks in the stillness of the quiet.
And yet, he is unmoved by this.
His eyes do not widen, his body does not flinch. But you see the infinitesimal clench of his jaw, the line of his brow deepening like a crack in the earth as his smile vanishes.
You move to strike again, but he catches you, his large, meaty palm wrapping around your wrist. He has the grip of a man who has spent half his life with a sword in it, which now swallows the delicate bones of your joint instead of the metal of a handle.
You fight in his grip, but he does not let go. It flits across your mind that he could easily break your bones, if he wished. He would have the right to it, for the way you struck him.
"Unhand me, Domine—" you seethe.
"Say my name."
You wrench again at his grasp, but his hand holds fast, immovable as iron. The thick knot in your throat burns hotter with every passing second, swelling until it chokes the words before they can leave you.
"Say my name, cara—"
"Unhand me!" You hiss. "I cannot marry you and you know it well!"
Your resistance only brings you closer, his hand dragging you forward as if inviting you into some sort of silly dance, your breasts now pressed hard against the armor that is gilded across his torso. The metal is warm from the heat of his body beneath it, and he leans down over you then, baring his teeth slightly with each syllable he forces out.
"Cant or won't?"
There is an aching, seething silence that stretches. Your ire burns as hot as coals behind your eyes as they narrow up at him. You hate him, you must. You must tell yourself this again and again, because the truth would be unbearable when the day comes that he is to wed to another.
“Have you lost your damned mind, Domine?” you snap, anger flashing hotter than the tears threatening behind your eyes. “You dishonor yourself speaking such madness—raging like a rabid hound.”
His other hand slides to wrap around your waist and down onto your lower back, pressing gently into your tail bone so your hips flush against his, and you can only just feel his growing member beneath the thick cotton tunic he wears.
“Madness?” he repeats, his voice low and dangerous now.
When you refuse to answer, he simply looks at you as though you are the one who has lost sense.
"I am to take a wife of my choosing," he says, each word slow and carefully chosen, "to lay my seed so our Divine Emperors may sleep easily knowing my blood will carry on their vanities—"
His jaw shifts, and he drops your hand to pull a piece of your hair that has fallen from the braid, curling it around his thick finger, “—and yet when I offer my hand to the one woman who knows me better than my own soldiers, the one who has shared my bed and my counsels…she strikes me."
Your face, you realize suddenly, is damp. And he sees it at once.
Something in him softens then, and the look he gives you holds both tenderness and hunger, the two mingling together like honey stirred into warm tea.
He leans closer, brushing his lips once against the corner of your eye where the tear has gathered.
“Why do you weep, mea cara?” he murmurs, the words warm against your skin before his mouth touches your temple, then the edge of your cheek. “Why do you fight me so?”
“I—”
Your breath shudders as you try to gather the words that refuse to come.
“Marcus,” you sigh at last, the name slipping from you despite yourself as you close your eyes. “I am no one.”
His mouth stills against your cheek.
“You are everything," he answers quietly, and you can feel his breath against the shell of your ear.
You shake your head at once, desperate, your hands pressing against his chest again though the strength has gone from them.
“No,” you insist, the word breaking. “You are a general of Rome. Marrying me would gain you nothing. It would not strengthen your house, it would not please the Senate, it would not satisfy the Augusti—”
“I do not care for any of that.”
“But you must,” you whisper, the tears coming faster now despite your effort to stop them. “I will not allow you to throw away your destiny for the sake of someone like me.”
He draws back just enough to look at you, his brow knitting as though the thought itself offends him.
"Someone like you," he repeats softly, licking the pearl of a tear from the top of his lip.
Your voice shakes so badly you hardly believe he can understand you, "I carry orders for Rome, I am nothing but a messenger of the Gods will, they speak through The Twins and so you must take it seriously—"
"My patience is at an end with them."
“You must not speak so,” you whisper sharply, your glossy eyes darting toward the walls of the tent.
The general takes both of your hands in his then, lifting them beneath his chin like something precious, and presses a kiss to your knuckles.
“I know who you are, my love,” he murmurs. “You are blessed with Mercury’s favor. For years you have come to me with the will of Gods and Emperors alike. You bring me their messages… and you bring me yourself.”
His thumbs move slowly across the backs of your hands.
“And I would have that forever. I would have you forever, mea cara.”
“But Rome—your armies—you could never—”
“Then we shall leave it behind,” he says quietly. "I will gladly send my men back to their families where they belong, rather than ripping apart the ones we conquer."
You stare at him.
“You wish to leave?”
“Yes, mea cara,” he answers, his voice low but steady now, the idea clearly not new to him. “Let Rome keep her wars and their decrees. Let the Senate drown in its own blood. We will go where the hand of the Augusti does not reach.”
Your heart stutters painfully.
“Marcus…”
“There are lands yet untouched by them,” he continues, his gaze never leaving yours. “We could live quietly. A farm, perhaps. A stretch of earth and sky that belongs to no emperor.”
You shake your head even as the image threatens to take root inside you.
“You cannot mean that.”
“It is the only thing I have meant in years.”
“Marcus, if anyone heard you speak so—”
“Let them hear. I tire of the will of those fututores, swaddled in their perfume and silk—”
“Marcus!” you hiss, clapping both hands over his mouth before the words can grow more dangerous.
He only smiles against your palms, the warmth of it startling you, and presses a soft kiss to the heart of your palm, the wiry hair of his mustache tickling you.
“Is that a yes, my love?” he says, muffled.
“You truly have gone mad.” you whisper, leaning your forehead against the back of your hand where it still rests on his mouth.
And when he it away, you straighten, allowing him to guide both of your hands to his own will, placing them at the back of his neck while his fall once more to your hips, adjusting you until you are perfectly flush against him again, where you belong.
“An answer is all I desire, filia Mercurii.”
Your breath falters.
“Yes, Marcus.”
And suddenly he is kissing you, and it is as if heat sparks across your lips, Jupiter's lightning striking through you and pulling a gasp from your throat in his hold. He tastes of salt and musk and wine. Groaning deeply, the sound rough with want, his hands slide lower to the lush weight of your bum as he draws you closer still. Your back bends against the heavy press of him as he pushes into you, the strength of his body undeniable. There is no question of how fiercely this man wants you, how deeply he needs you, how long he has yearned for you. You can hear it in his moans, can feel it in the weight of his grasp.
He is turning the two of you quickly, the meat of his hands gripping you hard enough that you hope to find the crescent marks of his fingers there later. His tongue pushes past your lips, tasting at your mouth, licking behind your teeth before drawing your top lip between his in a slow, hungry pull. You think, for a moment, that you taste something else there beneath the heat of it— a loneliness that has left a hollow ache settled into him during these long months away from home. And you kiss him back with equal hunger, your tongue pressing into his mouth like a salve, as though you might soothe that wound with it.
But then, outside the tent you hear the roar of men laughing, voices carrying easily through the warm evening air, and suddenly you remember you are not alone in his villa this time.
“Oh, Marcus, not here, please, not—”
“I don’t give a damn,” he growls. “I will take you how I want, where I want, for the rest of my life.”
Something in the tone of his voice sends heat racing through your body, a flush blooming low in your belly that makes your breath catch. Your knees buckle at the ferocity of his need, wetness pooling between them for it.
He lifts you onto the table with startling ease, spreading your legs so he can step between them. Leaning over you, he sweeps the table clear in a single impatient motion, scattering the carved stone markers of battle across the tent floor as they clatter and slide into the shadows. He lays you back against the wood, grinning at the sight of you as his hand fists the tunic covering your body.
He pushes it roughly upward, baring you to himself, the fabric bunching under your neck haphazardly.
“There is nothing like this,” he murmurs, his voice lower now. “Nothing like seeing you as the Gods made you.”
His eyes move slowly over your figure, drinking you in.
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
“You speak such foolishness, Marcus,” you swoon, stretching your arms above your head as you watch him unburden the armor from his chest and let it clatter to the floor before folding himself over you.
“I would sooner have my tongue cut than ever speak a lie of you,” he says softly before his mouth closes over your breast, taking the nipple between his lips as a low groan escapes him at the heat of your skin.
"You are so warm, so soft—" he says between your gasps of pleasure—" I have not felt such things in so long, it is like a dream."
You take him in as his long, thick lashes flutter shut. Your hands thread delicately through his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. He whimpers at your touch, mouth unlatching from one breast only to nuzzle the other, kissing and licking at your supple skin.
He is the fierce, violent commander of Rome’s legions—but that is only sometimes. For most of the moments you have spent with him, in his villa in the city, he is this: gentle, kind, passionate, and utterly confident in his want. As though this is the truest version of himself, the man beneath the armor, without the smoke and mirror of war that paints him as a brutal leader.
His tongue laves at your pert nipple, now pebbled and tender from his attention. His hands, thick and wide, span the narrowest part of your waist, his thumbs nearly touching over your navel he is so much larger than you. He draws you closer, shifting you to the edge of the table so his eager cock slots between the lips of your core.
You let out a soft whine at the barrier of his tunic between you.
“Patience,” he breathes, though it is not without the roughness of restraint. The heat of his mouth ghosts over your skin as he kisses your clavicle, then slowly up the column of your throat and along the line of your jaw. “Let me enjoy this. It has been too long.”
“And what if I say take me now and enjoy the smaller pleasures later?” you murmur, your fingers curling into the hair at the back of his head. “I wish to feel you inside me.”
A low sound escapes him at that, half laugh and half groan.
“My needy woman,” he says against your skin. “It is like music to my ears. But if I were to give you everything you wished the moment you asked for it, you would be as spoiled as those who grow pale behind palace walls.”
Your brow lifts faintly at that.
“Marcus Acacius,” you whisper, breath brushing his ear, “you speak as though you are not the one who has ruined me.”
A rough sound escapes him at that.
“That is because it is you who has ruined me, cara,” he groans, his teeth catching lightly at the line of your jaw before he presses a hard thrust of his hips against your swollen center, drawing an involuntary arch from your back. “If I were to take you as I wish, this would not last nearly as long as I would like.”
"Don't care," you murmured, your hands fisting into his hair harder now, making him wince and groan at once. His eyes flicker up to yours at that, dark and bright with something dangerously pleased.
"Promise me you'll stay the night, then? Let me eat your sweet cunt for dinner, and again for breakfast and midday."
You smile widely at that, "And you say it is me who is spoiled,"
"Promise it."
"I swear, Marcus." you say, planting a chaste kiss to his lips. "I will stay as long as you wish. Now please, for the love of Jupiter and all the gods—fuck me."
He leans back, and you are forced to drop your hands from his hair as he straightens, though you drag them slowly down his chest, your fingertips brushing the linen of his tunic. The fabric clings where your arousal has stained it, darkened over the tenting of his throbbing cock beneath. He lifts the hem and tucks it beneath his chin, and finally you see him fully—scars crossing the broad plane of his chest, the softness of his belly, the dark trail of hair that gathers beneath his navel and travels downward to frame his bobbing member, flushed deep red with want.
For a moment he simply looks, breathing deeply. He seems distracted by the sight of you, the way you glisten beneath the lanterlight of the tent. A heat of humilation blooms across your cheeks as his gaze lingers on the slick folds of you spread before him.
And then he is bending suddenly, forgetting himself and diving for you.
His mouth opens, greedy and unrestrained, as he kisses you there. His lips part wide against you, wet and hungry as he eats at you. You hear a rough groan spill from his throat as his hands close around the meat of your thighs, gripping hard to still the undulating roll of your hips.
It is obscene to watch.
Your wet cunt sliding against his wet tongue, the sounds he makes as he tastes you. Your soft sighs and breathless little cries only seem to make him more ravenous, his tongue cupping your sex as though it were a basin meant to hold the nectar gathering there. Up and down, then down and up again, he works at you with relentless hunger before his nose presses against your clit and the slick muscle of his tongue pushes inside you.
And then your back is bending, nearly lifting you from the table as he fucks you with his tongue. The pressure builds too quickly to bear, your body tightening before it breaks, and you gush over his face with a cry, trembling beneath his mouth as he purrs with pleasure.
When the tension finally leaves your limbs and your body goes soft and boneless, he is already moving you again. He handles you easily, turning and shifting you where he wants you, those big hands working with a single vision in mind.
"You will ride me." he demands.
You know that tone of voice. The sweet, sensual man who kissed you moments ago has stepped aside, and something harder has taken his place. The beast of him. The commander who draws blood from his enemies, who takes what he wants without hesitation, who fucks with the certainty of a man used to victory.
You barely have time to catch your breath before he lifts you from the table, one thick arm wrapping around your torso while the other hooks your thigh high around his hip. Your body drags against him as he moves, and you feel the heavy bob of his cock between your soaked folds. The sensation pulls a needy sound from your throat and you grind down instinctively, searching for more of him, pressing harder and harder. You feel his mouth on your neck just as his teeth close on your artery, biting you into submission. You cry out for him, but you only feel his cock twitching in response.
By the time he drops into the lounging chaise behind him, he is guiding you down with him, forcing your hips to widen to settle around the breadth of his lap.
“I want to watch you,” he says, voice thick, his eyes gone black with hunger. “Get this off.” His hands make quick work of your tunic, finally pulling it the rest of the way from your body.
The moment your arms come down again you are reaching for him in return, tugging impatiently at the linen still clinging to his shoulders. You push the fabric from him, eager to feel the heat of his skin beneath your palms. He groans when you lean forward, your arms slipping around his neck as your mouth finds his again. You taste yourself on his tongue, musk of sweat and sweet honey of arousal, and your hips move without thought. They slide against the thick length of him, wetting the shaft of his cock as you grind your clit against him. The heavy weight of his sac tightens in anticipation, brushing against your cunt as roll against him again and again. Your tongue slips deeper into his mouth as you pull at his with greedy little sucks.
He has quite enough of your teasing as his hand catches your face, pushing you upright with a deep growl of impatience. The other guides himself between your legs, angling his cock until the blunt head presses firmly at your entrance.
You both gasp at the first push—the stretch always too much at first. Always intoxicating. Like Cupid himself has driven some poisoned arrow through your heart, turning your thoughts to useless haze as your body opens for him.
“There she is,” Marcus breathes, his lips parted around a rough gasp. “What a good girl you are. That’s it… slow, cara. Nice and slow.”
You slide down onto him inch by inch, your eyes rolling back as a long, helpless moan spills from your throat. His hand comes quickly over your mouth—you know you are being far too loud—but how can you help it? He is thick and perfect inside you, your velvet walls drawing him in greedily until you are seated fully atop him, your wet cunt sealed around his cock, slicking the dark thicket of hair at his base.
"Oh—Domine—" you sigh, muffled behind his hand.
“Marcus,” he corrects softly, breath shuddering through him. “My love. Only Marcus to you.”
“But you are my everything,” you gasp, nimble fingers coming up to circle his wrist. His hand is so big it spreads over the entirety of the lower half of your face. “My lord, my master, my—my husband—”
“Yes,” he groans, his eyes burning into you. “Say it again.”
“Domin—”
“No.” His voice drops to a growl. The hand that covers your mouth slides down to grip your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he jostles you slightly.
“H-husband?”
He thrusts his hips upward sharply, the movement stealing the breath from your lungs.
“Say it again.”
“Vir meus,” you moan.
“Yes—yes, that’s it,” he groans, his head falling back against the chaise, mouth agape and his breath short. “That’s it, girl. Ride my cock. Tell me you are mine.”
Your head falls back as he thrusts higher into you, the motion forcing a broken cry from your throat as you chant it over and over. Vir meus, vir meus, vir meus. You can no longer hold yourself upright as his hand falls, and you brace yourself over him, planting your knees on either side of his hips as you begin to lift and drop over him, suddenly drunk on the poison of Cupid and your own rising pleasure. He does not seem to care about your volume anymore. The sounds leave you unbottled and wild, helpless. Like some creature in heat. His hands grip the flesh of your hips harder once again, guiding the rhythm, forcing your body to ride and fall at his pace.
“Shall I give the Augusti what they want?” he pants against your ear, licking the shell of it. “Breed my sweet little wife and fill her with my seed?”
The thought had never crossed your mind before. The two of you had always been careful in your previous meetings, always finishing elsewhere—your mouth, your breasts—but…now…
"Promise we will never go back to Rome again," you beg against his throat between moans, rocking your hips slower now. "Promise me we will have a home by the ocean, where we will watch the sun rise and set with no cares of the twins, only us—only our family—and I will bear your children, as many as you wish."
“I promise, mea cara,” he groans, his hands tightening on you. “Oh—fuck—to see you round with my child, I’m—I’m going to—”
“Give me your seed,” you breathe. “Vir meus.”
You feel his body seize beneath you, struck through with the crash of pleasure. His mouth falls open on a broken breath as you tighten around him, both of you gasping against one another while your body clenches down, drawing him deeper still. The feeling of his spend filling you in thick warmth pulls a cry from your throat, the sensation cresting through you like a breaking wave until you are both trembling breathlessly together.
You sag over him, sweaty chest against sweaty chest, and hands stay on you, but they change, sliding from the rough hold of your hips to settle at the small of your back, keeping you against him as the two of you come down slowly from the height of your orgasms. You feel his chest lift hard beneath yours as he drags in deep lungfuls, your breath matching in tandem, hearts beating together until they settle.
You and Marcus leave that night.
He gives his orders quietly to the only two men he trusts to carry them. The legion will return home. No more men will die at his command. Word will travel back to Rome, where senators continue their shouting and scheming without the spilling the blood of any more soldiers.
But by the time those messages arrive, you are already gone.
(stunning mood board by my baby @aurorawritestoescape 💕💕💕)
3k8| Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 | se7en collection | masterlist
Summary: after your breakup, Joel struggles to find joy in life. But when someone hurts you, his anger and protective instinct immediately take over
Warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap, yearning, angst, SA attempt (not by Joel), protective!Joel, Jackson!Joel, soft!Joel, alt pov but mostly Joel, piv
a/n: this is written for @felix24601, thank you so much for sending me this ask- a long time ago, sorry it took me so long 🙏❤️
"Consider this -and you can totally ignore this- Jackson era Joel, him and reader aren't together or maybe she's a friend of Tommys, maybe her and Joel have some tension or flirting.... Then Joel opens his door late at night and you`'re beaten up. You tell him who hurt you (you decide the level of "hurt" I'm thinking SA but it's up to you) and Joel enacts brutal revenge even tho he knows he's gonna get in trouble with Maria. Maybe Tommy helps idk. Maybe they both end up in the little western jail for a few nights happy as a clam to take their punishment. Anyway ignore me. If you wanna do a fic that's cool or if you just wanna reply and expand on it with me l'm in 🥰"
Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for helping me all day every day, i love you so much 💕🫶 | dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏
Joel was sipping whiskey in his kitchen, his heart aching, his mind unable to stop thinking about you. He usually kept himself busy all day, fixing everything he could in Jackson when he wasn't on patrol, doing anything to stop lamenting the fact that he missed you. Anything that would leave him exhausted at night, to the point that he’d sometimes fall asleep on his couch, too tired to climb the stairs to his bedroom.
But today he had run into you at the Tipsy Bison. You were wearing clothes he’d never seen on you before, their color highlighting your eyes. You were beautiful, so beautiful that it sent a spike right into his already wounded heart.
Joel nodded when you smiled at him, then quickly turned away, afraid of holding your gaze for too long, scared of what you could read in his. He just mumbled “mornin’, sweetheart,” that sounded so cold and impersonal it left a bitter taste on his lips. It was mechanical, it had to be, so different from the words he used to murmur in the mornings when you’d wake up in his arms, all warm and smelling so well, before you wrapped your arms around his bare shoulders and pressed yourself to his chest.
Now he woke up alone, and your scent had left his bed.
Finding alcohol on patrols had become some kind of relief, that's what allowed him to forget and pass out when the ache was too strong on some nights, when it hurt him too much that he could no longer hold you in his arms or kiss you. When he had to face that all he had now was the memory of your laugh or the way your fingers used to linger on his chest, the sound of your moans when his lips were on you.
You had left for a reason as old as the world, you were young, much younger than him, and you didn't want to settle down. He hadn't held it against you, that's just how it was. Some things didn’t change, even in the apocalypse.
Joel almost finished his first drink when he heard a knock at the door and his name sobbed by a voice he would have recognized even dead drunk.
He jumped out of his chair, flung the door open and the first thing he saw was your bruised face and trembling lips.
Words got stuck in his throat when he noticed your hands clutching at your torn top, trying to keep your chest covered as much as you could. He hastily removed his cardigan to wrap you in it and told you to come inside, trying not to lose his mind when he felt you shake under his touch. The shock he was in at first started to fade away when you sniffed, holding back your tears, and something twitched inside him, urging him to hurt those who had done this to you.
But he couldn't let this part of him take the lead.
Not yet, not when you needed him. So he brought you to the couch where you sat down mechanically, then he covered your shoulders with a blanket and sat next to you. For a moment he stayed silent, trying to keep a cool head, to figure out how to talk to you about what happened.
First, Joel asked if you wanted some water, but you shook your head. He wasn't sure you even heard him. He saw your thoughts trapped in the moment you couldn't escape alone, a dark place he had to help you leave, so he insisted softly. “Sweetheart? Sweetheart, look at me.”
As if he had snapped his fingers, you finally heard him and set your eyes on him.
“You're in my house, you came to me, do you remember?”
“Yeah, I… yeah, I remember.” you replied, your gaze desperately trying to rest on him, as if to anchor yourself, to escape your memories.
“You're safe here, ok?”
“What if he comes here?” you stammered, your eyes now running away from him. It felt like a punch in his stomach. Not only did someone put his hands on you, hurt you, but they scared you to the point that you were feeling unsafe in his house, next to him.
The feeling Joel was trying to contain in your presence rose again. Boiling in his blood.
“Nobody will hurt you here,” he gruffed, his voice a mixture of firmness so that you would fully believe him, and gentleness to reassure you that you were safe. “But I need to know who did this to you.”
Your misty eyes raised towards him, you gave him the name.
The name of a man he saw at the Tipsy Bison that afternoon, some new guy that joined Jackson a couple weeks ago. Primary and instinctive, the need to track and hurt him rushed through Joel’s veins, but he had to know if you needed medical care right away. He cleared his throat, hating the words he was about to say.
“Did he…?” he murmured, and you shook your head, clutching the blanket around you, then added “no, I fought him off.”
"Ok, sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of this, ok? You’re safe here, I won’t be long.”
His soft look on you turned black as soon as he closed the front door behind him and faced the dark of the night.
Joel ran to the guy’s house, never taking his eyes off it the whole time, the fury acting like gasoline in his body. He slammed his shoulder against the front door, his broad frame filling the room, and pounced on the man who barely had time to see him coming. Joel punched him, the man’s lip already bloody probably because of you, and made him fall to the ground with the force of his hit, then Joel grabbed his collar and struck him again.
And again.
And again.
He stopped only once, just to yell, “what did you do to her, you son of a bitch?” then lost count of the punches that were painting the floor red with each blow, the collar still clenched in his fist. He didn’t hear the screams or the footsteps outside, didn’t notice when Tommy rushed into the house.
“Joel! Joel! Stop it!” the man urged, trying to grab his older brother by the shoulders, but he was pushed back by the beast led by wrath Joel had turned into. “Hey, stop it! You’re gonna kill him, for fuck’s sake!”
Even if the younger Miller was a strong man used to combat, it’s only when Joel heard Maria shout his name that he stopped. He looked up at her, breathless, fist and jaw clenched, then back at the unconscious guy whose face was swollen, unrecognizable, and finally let him go.
“What the fuck, Joel? What happened? You can’t—”
“Don’t lecture me and tell me it doesn’t work this way,” he said, brushing her scowl with a wave of his hand. He growled as he stood up, his fist and shirt covered in blood, and looked at the man on the ground with disgust. “Not in this case. He deserves it.”
She looked at him as if she didn't recognize the man in front of her, then at Tommy, seeking the support of her husband, but she only saw brotherly bond in his look, felt that he was on Joel's side, even without knowing what had happened. As if beating someone up could only happen for a good reason, something her Assistant District Attorney former self couldn't comprehend.
She moved closer to Joel, raised her hands then added, “but it doesn’t, Joel, that’s what the council’s for.”
It only made him sneer.
“Listen. Put me in a cell if you want, I don’t care. When I get out, if there’s another scum like him to beat up, I’ll do it again. You hear me?”
She crossed her arms, then sighed. “Calm down, and tell me what happened.”
“Not here. My place. I have to go back there. But not before this guy is locked up somewhere.”
“Damn Joel, he can’t go anywhere… you almost killed him.”
“I want him locked!” he shouted, his cold, dark glare piercing Maria.
"Okay, okay, I'm gonna take care of it," Tommy assured him.
He knew his brother too well to realize that something serious had happened, serious enough that he would never change his mind.
You rushed towards him as soon as he entered his house, followed by Maria and Tommy who looked at you in shock when they saw you.
“Your hand, oh my god…” you said, as you seized it delicately and frowned at his bloody knuckles.
“It’s okay, it’ll heal fast,” he replied and smiled to reassure you, but all his anger rose again when he saw your blue cheekbone and dried tears on your face. He looked at Maria, his gaze pleading, begging for her to listen to you, to be gentle with you.
“I’m sorry, Joel… I didn’t know where else to go,” you sobbed.
“Hey, hey, hey… you did the right thing by coming here, okay?” You pressed yourself against him and he put his arm around you, then led you to the kitchen where you told them what had happened earlier. How the man attacked you after you told him that you weren’t interested, that you barely managed to escape after he hit you and tore off your top, before you rushed to Joel's.
They all tensed while listening to you. Nothing like that had ever happened in Jackson before.
“He has to be banished, Maria, and he should feel lucky that it doesn’t go further. I won't tolerate a predator within these walls, this is not negotiable,” Joel asserted, his gaze dark and inflexible.
“I agree with Joel,” Tommy said. Maria nodded then turned towards you.
“He won’t stay in Jackson, he'll be out in the morning. And he's locked up for now. I’m so sorry this happened to you, honey.”
“Please don’t put Joel in trouble because of me... It’s my fault.”
“No, no no, it’s absolutely not your fault, ok?” Maria replied, brushing your shoulder gently. You did the right thing by coming to Joel. Now we'll take care of the rest, you did great.”
You went to the bathroom as Maria and Tommy discussed the next day with Joel. You heard them leave and took the supplies from the medicine cabinet, thinking back to the day you'd brought them from the clinic, when you and Joel were still a couple and you’d been spending more time in his house than in your own. Several months later, you had made the biggest mistake of your life and had packed your bags.
You sighed, thinking how dumb you had been back then, then closed the door of the cabinet when you heard his footsteps.
“I’m the one who’s gotta take care of you, sweetheart,” he murmured, but you stopped him, told him you needed this, needed to think about something else, someone else rather than you. He didn't insist and let you clean his hand, watching you apply light pressure to his knuckles.
He patted your cheek gently, his big hands turning into delicate nurse’s fingers.
“Thank you, Joel,” you said. “For taking care of it... For protecting me.”
“I wish it hadn’t happened. I wish I were there with you and he never laid his hands on you. I'm so full of rage that it happened…”
“I wish you were there with me, too,” you murmured, clinging to him, seeking safety in his embrace.
“Can I stay here tonight? I… I don't wanna overstay my welcome but I'm afraid to be alone,” you confessed, your cheeks hollowed by fatigue and anxiety.
“Of course. You can take a hot shower, if you’d like. And I’ll get the second bedroom ready, okay?”
You thanked Joel and went to the bathroom. There you tried to wash away the sensation of that guy's hands on you, before putting on one of Joel t-shirts and boxers he had left for you on the bed, and you slipped under the clean sheets.
A few minutes later Joel knocked on your door, hair wet and clean clothes on, making sure you didn't need anything. With a soft smile he wished you a good night.
A creaking of his door woke Joel up in the middle of the night and he sat up suddenly, to see you standing in the doorway, shivering.
“I'm sorry to wake you up,” you murmured.
“No, no, it's ok. Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” his voice was so soft that your heart melted.
“Can I sleep with you? I… I feel anxious, all alone.”
“Of course,” he replied, pulling back the comforter. “C’mere.”
Your bare feet padded across the parquet floor, you joined Joel in bed and curled up against him. Safe. Two minutes later, you were asleep, and your scent enveloped him.
When Joel woke up, the sun was bathing the room in its pale yellow light. Your hand rested on his chest and his arm was wrapped around your shoulders as if your bodies had instinctively found their bearings. He didn't want to wake you and didn't move an inch, lulled by your breathing. He could see the blue on your cheek, and fear mixed with anger gripped his heart. Joel didn't dare imagine what would have happened if you hadn't managed to escape, and the thought made him sick. He looked at his hand then clenched his fist. At least the motherfucker got a lesson.
“Does it hurt?”
Your sleepy voice pulled him from his thoughts and made his anxiety disappear. You were close to him, safe. That's all that mattered.
“No, not at all,” Joel reassured you, hoping confidence could be heard in his tone. He didn't want you to worry about him.
“What did you do to him?”
“Punched him, knocked him out,” he shrugged. “He'd probably be dead, without Maria and Tommy.”
Hearing his words, you brushed his chest with your head and squeezed his hand softly.
“I can't thank you enough, Joel. After what had happened between us, you didn't have to.”
“Of course I had to. And what had happened doesn't change a thing.”
You frowned, as if searching for your words.
You were both still lying in his bed, your warm body pressed against his, his arm around your shoulders just like many times before. He refrained from stroking your arm, but was secretly breathing in the scent of his shampoo on your hair, savoring the softness of your skin beneath his fingers. Enjoying how close you were, thinking that all he wanted was to offer you his full protection, his fists and his anger if he had to, like a guard dog ready to bare its teeth the moment danger arose. And all his tenderness and love at other times.
Joel wondered what you were thinking about, if you felt safe, if you knew he’d do anything to protect you. Anything, couple or not. You were the most precious person to him.
“I miss you,” you confessed, so suddenly Joel didn't see it coming, the words making his heart jump in his rib cage. You caressed his torso and raised your gaze towards him, as if asking for more, and time seemed to stand still. He looked at you softly, with some sadness in his eyes, then said “sweetheart, we shouldn’t… go there. You’re probably still in shock because of what happened, confused… acting in a way you wouldn’t, under normal circumstances, you know?”
He hated himself at that moment, feeling he was so clumsy in his words and reaction, afraid you'd feel rejected. But he didn't want to seem like he was taking advantage. He tilted his head to the side and smiled at you gently, tenderly, hoping you’d understand him.
“No, it's not that.” You were staring at him with a mix of certainty and something else he was scared to define. Something that seemed so similar to the way you used to look at him, when you had still loved him, before everything had ended, leaving him desperate and alone.
Joel pushed those thoughts away to the back of his head, didn't want to let hope take over, not today, not now, when you were so fragile.
“I miss you, Joel. I knew it was a mistake the second I left.”
Your words shattered his resolve, leaving him unable to avoid the subject. “What… what are you talking about?” he asked skeptically, searching for an answer in your eyes, something to hang on to, to stop hope from swallowing him alive before spitting out his bones. “Why didn’t you tell me, then?”
“Because I didn’t know how you’d react,” you confessed, lowering your head. “Because I was afraid you hated me. Each time we met, you were so distant.”
“Sweetheart, I could never hate you… I was distant only because I wanted to respect your decision. It’s the only reason.”
“Why were you drinking tonight?” you asked suddenly, your glare piercing his soul. He thought about lying, about giving you any excuse to explain the drinking. But was it right to deceive you? He sighed, then murmured “because I missed you. Because I saw you this afternoon and you were so beautiful… and because you weren’t mine anymore.”
You moved closer to him, your face just inches from his, eyes locked on his.
“I’ve always been yours.”
“Baby, don’t… don’t tell me something like that…”
“It’s true. And deep down I’m sure you know it.”
“After what happened, I don’t think it’s a good idea…”
“After what happened, I need tenderness..I need to remember what it’s like to make love to someone I love.”
“Sweetheart…”
“Please… I don't want to be the one who got attacked in Jackson.”
“That's not who you are,” Joel stated. He hated that you felt guilty, hated what that motherfucker had done and had made you think about yourself.
You leaned towards him and your body pressed against his, reminding him of so many memories he had tried in vain to keep buried. You were looking at him the same way you’d done before, when you shared this bed every night, and warmth ran through his veins. Hope, too.
“I miss you,” you repeated, just before pressing your lips to his, placing a kiss there, then two, and brushing his beard with your fingers.
“I miss you too, sweetheart,” he replied, finally surrendering and responding to your kisses, feeling himself melt as you were peppering his cheek with kisses then his neck, lingering beneath his ear and going back to his lips. The tip of your tongue traced them, as if asking permission to slip in between. You moaned into his mouth, and his cock twitched when your tongues melted.
You sat up and pulled off your t-shirt before removing his, and ran your fingers over his chest, smiling as his skin shivered under your touch, feeling heat reach your cheeks under his look on you, still the same as before. Full of love, tenderness and desire. You grasped the sides of his boxers and slid them down, freeing his hard length.
“I want to,” you murmured when you felt his hesitation. “I feel safe with you, and I wanna feel you” you whispered, making his heart beat so fast he wondered if you could hear it.
You stroked his shaft slowly, your thumb tracing his wet head, and straddled him, sliding his tip between your folds to coat him with your wetness. You nestled it at your entrance, seized his wrists and placed them above his head.
“Let me be in charge, ok?” you breathed. “I need to… need to be in charge.”
“Take what you need, sweetheart. I’m all yours.”
You kissed him and you sank down onto him, slowly, gasping when your folds spread under his girth. You looked at each other as you welcomed him inside, breathless under the stretch that you weren’t used to anymore, your forehead against his.
“You ok?” he asked.
“Yeah.. I just need to… get used to it.”
“Take all the time you need. Take it slow.”
You remained still for a few seconds, feeling his cock throb inside you, then started to slide up and down his shaft, moaning at the feeling you’d been craving so much lately.
“Oh my god,” you whined, “you always feel so good.”
“You too… I missed you so much, baby.”
You couldn't stop kissing him, feeling his skin beneath your fingers, the sweet stretch of his cock parting your walls making your mind go blank.
Joel let you take the lead, be in charge, setting the pace you needed, as he was enjoying the warmth of your breasts against his chest, the softness of your skin and your lips on him. It all seemed unreal, this moment between you that he had dreamed and longed for so much. He didn't mind having his hands bound by yours, loved the feeling that your control over his body brought you back to life, making all your dark thoughts disappear. Joel loved feeling your fingers on his wrists, your breath against his, your moans against his mouth, your hips slowly rising upon his shaft. Feeling every inch of your core around him, his cock rubbing against your walls, your heat surrounding him.
Joel noticed the way your breath quickened, recognized those moments when your climax was building, and he could think of nothing else, apart from the moment you would clench on him, when he would have to hold back from coming inside you, not yet, because he didn't want it to end.
“Joel… I’m gonna come,” you whined, and it was the sweetest melody to his ears. He kissed your neck and moaned as your pussy clenched around him, your whimpers growing louder and louder until you came, pulsing on his shaft and squeezing him so tightly that he started to see stars.
“Shit, baby… I’m not gonna last much longer,” he moaned. You slid off him and, pressing your forehead against his, stroked his cock just before his seed spurted out and covered his stomach and your lower belly. Then he grabbed a t-shirt and cleaned you both. Once done, he pulled you close and you kissed him, his hand brushing the back of your head softly as his breathing slowed down.
You remained silent for a while, enjoying this moment that each of you had dreamed of for a long time.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
You looked up at him and smiled. “I missed my home,” you whispered. “I missed you.”
His heart melted, making him feel fragile in the best way and madly in love, a ball of sweetness, far from the beast he had transformed into the day before.
You were home. You were safe.
And no one could ever hurt you again.
Joel masterlist
Thank you for reading 🙏 Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️
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Summary: The passing of your runaway father triggers a series of events that brings you back to the place where you grew up. You’re back in Hoboken, and sleep eludes you. Haunted by waking nightmares, you find an unlikely refuge in the basement laundry room of your building, where you keep bumping into one of your neighbors, a certain Frankie Morales. Soon, it becomes obvious that the man is also running away from some ghosts of his own.
Can you two strike a deal that'll help you find some rest? Should be pretty harmless, right?
A Triple Frontier / A Most Violent Year AU.
Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC (Leigh Reinhorn)
Please note that this story is written in reader format but Reader is an OFC. There are sparse but still present physical descriptions; she has a thorough background, and a name.
Rating: Explicit 🔞
TW: THERE WILL BE NO TRIGGER WARNINGS ON INDIVIDUAL CHAPTERS. So please tread carefully because there will be (ghosts) (no really) mentions of: PTSD, death, self-harm, secondary characters dying, gun violence, grief, depiction of very vivid nightmares, all the spooky vibes I can infuse, I am not kidding, my first writing love was horror (but I'm only just getting back into it, so baby-scary level).
Some newcomers: slow burn (my first, bear with me), idiots in love (like, very stupid).
And the usual suspects: love at first sight, soulmates, pleasure and pain, an alarming level of feelings denial, light bondage, rough sex, size kink like WOW this is Francisco Morales, lots of bodily fluids (come spit and sweat, sweat come and spit, my MVPs), unprotected sex, the usual very intense Orange bedroom Frankie, "I can fix you but I won't let you fix me" Frankie, and an OFC who's a match for him.
A/N: my dearest Orange bedroom besties, I don't know who's still here, but I'm very grateful for you all, past, future and present 🧡 This is probably the same story, the same tropes, again and again, only this time I will explore grief in a way I hope to be a bit spooky but not too off-putting. I promised myself this story would contain less angst, but the outline has already destroyed all hopes of a successful attempt...
So here's yet another long love letter to our Pilot™. I hope you enjoy the flight 🧡
A FRANKIE FEBRUARY ONE-SHOT
WEEK THREE: CARETAKER FRANKIE
A/N: Screeching in on the last day of Frankie February with my late submission for week three - Caretaker Frankie. Huge thank you to @grogusmum & @avastrasposts for putting together such a fun month of activities and prompts! I still have quite a few things to reblog and will try to get them all up before the month ends tonight. This was something that was both very fun and very self-indulgent to write. I have been putting off having my wisdom teeth out for quite some time, and I'm pretty certain that it's going to have to finally happen this year, so to cope with that I had a grand old time imagining what it would be like to have Frankie take care of me while I recovered. I hope you enjoy as much as I have!
Prompts used: Infected, Misery loves company, and "Get your butt back in bed!"
Warnings: mention of oral surgery, use of prescribed medications, waking up after surgery
Word Count: 2,182
Summary: Waking up after having your wisdom teeth removed isn't so bad when Frankie is there to take care of you.
It was a short ride home.
Or maybe it wasn’t. You weren’t sure because you were still floating just above your body, everything feeling slightly hazy. You remembered Frankie helping you into the passenger seat, his broad body leaning across yours to buckle your seatbelt, his plush lips planting a kiss to the tip of your nose as he pulled back and shut the door. You remembered music playing, Frankie humming along, and the warm sunlight hitting your face through the window. And then you were home and he was leaning over you again to help you out of his truck.
“We’re home already?” You asked, resting your head on Frankie’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your waist. He smelled so good. He always smelled so good.
You heard the jingle of keys as he found the one that unlocked the front door, and felt the chuckle that rumbled through his chest. “Oh, do I? That’s good to know. And yes. We’re home. You slept most of the way.”
“Do you what?” You sounded strange, muffled, like your mouth was full of cotton. “What’s good to know?” You rolled your head so that you could look up at him. He was so handsome. Your Frankie was so handsome you could cry.
He tightened the arm he had around you and chuckled again, dipping down to kiss your forehead. “You said I smelled good. And then you said I was so handsome you could cry.” He helped you into the house, shutting the door behind you, all the while keeping his arm anchored around your body. “So many compliments, you’re gonna make me blush.”
You felt an enormous surge of affection and emotion, the corners of your eyes stinging as tears gathered there. “Well it’s true, Frankie.” You frowned, the motion feeling tight and heavy and difficult for some reason. “You are so handsome I could cry.”
The warm sound of his laughter tinged with empathy for the flood of feelings you were experiencing filled your ears. “Don’t cry, cielo.” He guided you down the hall and towards the bedroom, the hand at your hip stroking up and down your side. “I don’t want you to cry.”
“Okay,” you whined, doing your best to keep the tears in your eyes where they belonged. If he didn’t want you to cry then you didn’t want to, either. You sniffed, then swallowed, then wondered why your throat felt thick. “Frankie?”
“Hmm?” He helped you into the bed, hands going to your biceps as he eased you down onto the mattress.
“Why does my face and my throat and my head feel funny?” You sniffled again, watching as he bent down to undo your shoes and tug them from your feet. “And why can’t I take off my own shoes?”
He looked up at you with so much love in his eyes you almost let out a sob. You felt his palms come to rest atop your thighs, fingers squeezing lightly. “You had your wisdom teeth out this morning. You don’t remember?”
You gasped, eyes going wide and one hand coming up to cover your mouth, only for Frankie to catch your wrist and pull it back down. “I did?” He nodded, bringing your knuckles up to his lips so he could press a kiss there. “Oh, no!”
Frankie gathered up your legs and swung them up onto the bed, then pulled the sheets and blankets up over them. “No, no, it’s okay,” he assured you, hands back on your biceps as he directed you to lean back into the pillows that he propped up. “They had to come out. They were impacted and they got infected, so the dentist said they had to go.”
“Oh.” You had no recollection of that whatsoever, but you knew Frankie wouldn’t lie to you.
“No,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t.” He sighed, giving you a small smile as he brought his thumb up to swipe a stray tear from your eye. “You’re still pretty loopy from the anesthesia and the painkillers, and you’re probably gonna be sore for a few days.”
You felt your face fall into a pout. “Oh.” The bed and the pillows and the blankets felt like clouds or marshmallows or a bunch of puppies, but you felt sad as you sank into them. “I’m sorry, Frankie.”
“Hey,” he soothed, curving one hand around the side of your neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, okay?” Bending forward, he kissed your forehead, whispering a few more words there. “Nothing at all.” By the time he straightened back up, you were starting to slip under, a sleepy, hazy film settling over everything. “Get some rest. I’m just gonna go make sure-”
“Nuh, uh,” you pleaded. “Don’t go away.” Eyes closed, you reached blindly for him, the backs of your hands swinging and making contact with his stomach.
He chuckled, gripping your hands in his. “Okay,” he acquiesced, and then you felt the mattress dip as he climbed over you and into the space beside you. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”
He said something else but it didn’t register with you, too focused on the way his fingers fit between yours. “Mmmmisery loves company…” you hummed, falling asleep surrounded by his warmth and his scent and him.
—
Frankie sat there as you drifted into a medically induced dreamland, his fingers linked with yours and his eyes on your face.
Your puffy, swollen, post-dental surgery face. The face of the woman he loved beyond measure. “Misery loves company,” you’d said. But in your company, even when you were high as a kite on meds and more than a little delirious as a result, he could never be miserable.
“I love you, mi cielo,” he whispered, running his thumb over your knuckles. You let out an ungodly open-mouthed snore that somehow only made those words feel more true. “Para siempre.”
After a few minutes of watching your chest rise and fall in steady rhythm, he carefully extracted himself from the bed and quietly headed to the kitchen to make sure that he had everything you would need when you woke up. As soon as you had scheduled your procedure, Frankie ordered an ice pack specifically made for wisdom teeth removal recovery. He stocked the freezer with your favorite flavors of Italian ice, picked up a few OTC painkillers to supplement the ones you would be prescribed, and took off three days of work so he could be there to take care of anything you needed.
You tried to tell him that three whole days was overkill and that all you would need was a ride home.
“I think that’s underkill, cielo,” he’d said, planting a kiss on your cheek the night before. “You’ve never had any kind of surgery, so you have no idea how you’ll feel afterwards.” He hesitated before moving on to his next point, because it wasn’t one he liked thinking about too much. “You’ve never gone under anesthesia, which means we don’t know how long the effects will last.”
Wisdom teeth extraction was one of the most common surgical procedures there was. Frankie knew this. Hell, he had his taken out almost twenty years ago, so he knew that it was a fairly mild operation.
But he also knew that any time someone went under the knife, there was a chance that things could go wrong. And when your dentist mentioned that yours would be a lengthier procedure than most due to the way your extra molars had grown in, he felt his nerves ratchet up a few notches. The roughly ninety minutes that you were under stretched for what felt like hours as he sat - and paced, hat off, fingers through his hair, hat back on - in the waiting area, so the relief he felt when one of the PACU nurses came to tell him that you were in the recovery room was immense.
“She do okay?” He asked, following the very patient nurse to your room.
The woman nodded. “She did just fine, Mr. Morales.” Turning to face him with a smirk, she let out a small laugh. “Immediately woke up and started telling us all how handsome and wonderful you are.”
Frankie felt his whole face flush with heat, one hand gripping the back of his neck as he shook his head. “She did, huh?”
“Oh yeah,” she confirmed, smirk softening into a knowing smile. “That woman loves you and she wants the whole world to know it.”
“Well,” he paused as the nurse opened the door to your recovery room, his eyes landing on you like they were drawn there magnetically and his heart flipping like an Olympic gymnast. “The feeling is mutual.”
Clicking her tongue, the nurse looked over at him. “Mr. Morales, I do believe you just renewed my faith in men.”
She laughed, gave his shoulder a pat, and told him that it was fine to go in, and that was all he needed to hear before he crossed the small space to kiss the tip of your nose. “Hey, beautiful. Heard you were talking me up back here.”
Your eyes were closed and your mouth was full of gauze, but you managed an excited grin, half mumbling, half singing his name. “Frankieeee! I told them you were here and now you are here!”
The love he felt for you in that moment almost bowled him right over. “‘Course I am, mi cielo.” He smoothed a hand over your hair. “Always.”
From there you devolved into nonsense and the nurses kept having to gently remind you that you shouldn’t try to talk too much. That was a losing battle. Fortunately it didn’t take too long for them to go over your discharge instructions with Frankie, and then the two of you were on your way home.
About thirty five minutes after he peeled himself away from your sleeping form, while he was on the phone with Pope letting him know that everything went well, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Gotta go,” he told his friend, eyes on you as he rose from his seat at the table. “Sleeping beauty’s awake.”
Ending the call, he set his phone on the table and crossed the room to where you stood. “Hey,” he smiled, reaching out to wrap one hand around the side of your neck. “That was just Pope. Said he hopes you feel better soon.” Leaning in, he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Why are you out of bed? You okay?”
Your eyes slipped shut at his kiss as you half hummed, half groaned a response, adding a nod so he knew your answer was yes. “Face hurts a ‘lil,” you mumbled.
Frankie clicked his tongue, a pang of sympathy flashing through him because he knew that no matter how much it hurt now, it would be worse the following day. He gave you a tight frown, nodding back. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s still too soon for medicine, though. You want your ice pack?”
You gave the same sad-sounding response as before, along with another nod. “Yes, please.”
“Okay.” He swept his thumb up behind your ear, then pulled himself away to grab the ice wrap from the freezer. “This should help. C’mere, cielo.”
He met you halfway between the door and the refrigerator, undoing the straps and then gingerly wrapped it under your chin and around your aching jaw. He carefully secured it after making sure that it wasn’t too tight, sighing at the sound of your immediate relief in the form of a much less-pained hum. “Better?”
You looked up at him, your right hand coming up to cradle the ice even closer to your cheek. “Yeah,” you said, voice hazy. “Thank you, Frankie.”
There were times throughout your relationship where the amount of love he had for you almost hurt his chest, like his heart was too small to hold all of it. That moment was certainly one of them. “Of course,” he replied. “Now why don’t you get back in bed and relax some more?”
“Will you come with me?”
He felt his heart expand to accommodate the newly expanded love. “You want me to?” You nodded. “Then I’m there. Let me just grab whatever we might need for later, and we can just stay in there and watch a movie or something. Sound good?”
You nodded. “Sorry I’m bein’ so needy-”
“Hey,” he interrupted you, shaking his head. “Stop apologizing. Besides,” he tilted his head,one eyebrow cocked. “You are nowhere near as needy as I was after I had shoulder surgery. Remember?”
That actually made your eyes lighten, a small laugh bubbling up despite the swollen limits of your face and mouth. “Yeah, but-”
He just shook his head again. “Nope, no buts! Except yours.” Reaching behind you, he gave your ass a light, playful smack. “Now get your butt back in bed, I’ll be right there. Misery loves company, right?”
“Only when the company is you,” you slurred through your smile, turning and heading back to the bedroom.
