Hey there! I'm Mabel and may I be the first to welcome you to my quaint little corner of the internet! Feel free to come and go as you please and feel comfortable knowing there is a spot open for you here. Some features of the nook: we always are stocked up on drinks and snacks, we got comfortable seating everywhere, and warm lighting to set the tone.
I will primarily write about Pedro Pascal characters, but don't be surprised if you find other special guests as well.
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Summary: Nothing good could come from Dieter Bravo showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night. You have every reason imaginable to just tell him to beat it. But, then again, you never could say no to that face of his.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni. Feels like dubcon but everything is consensual (tagged more so as an abundance of caution), protected piv, oral (f! and m!receiving), breastplay, he can be a little wicked, their relationship is so unhealthy it’s ridiculous, seduction
A/N: Hey there! Long time no see! It’s been a while since I had the chance to write since getting into school but this idea hit me like a train in the middle of the night a while ago and it hasn’t let me go since. I’m hoping this semester will be a lighter workload so I can get back to doing what I love but we’ll see. Either way, glad to be back and I hope you enjoy!
You had tried to warn her, just like you had all the other partners, all the other spouses that followed you. Tried to give her fair warning of what she was signing up for by marrying Dieter Bravo. Prepare her for the reality that their marriage could never turn out the way you know she had planned it would, how you're sure she is still hoping it will. That try as she might, he would never be fully hers. That he has these destructive patterns, these vices, that he can't break himself free of. Not that he has ever felt the need to even despite its consequences.
You, of course, being one of these said vices, despite your own feelings on the matter. His first love, first divorcee, the mother of his child. The one that could never quite get away. It’s not like you want this for her, hell, you don’t want this even for yourself but it’s not like you ever had a choice.
But you warned her anyway, and she wouldn’t listen. Wouldn’t heed your advice and they were married within the span of months.
You had tried to warn her that this would happen. It was only a matter of time.
You slightly jolt awake, bleary eyes opening to the bright light of the tv blaring in front of you before looking around to realize you’re in your living room. Must have fallen asleep watching your show again.
Another round of knocking.
Checking the time on your phone, it reads at 1:43 am. God, who would be here at this hour? You peel off those warm blankets snuggled around you as you tear yourself from your well-loved, worn corner of the couch. Tying your light robe around you just a bit tighter as you walk over to investigate the disturbance.
Just as you are about to reach for the handle, you hear a low, desperate plea from the other side, “Love, please…”.
You audibly sigh, resting your forehead against the door. Just walk away. Nothing good could come from whatever is waiting for you on the opposite side of this door. You should just pretend you didn’t hear anything, just head to bed knowing you did the right thing.
But, it’s Dieter.
You close your eyes as you take one last deep breath. It’s all about self-control. Be calm, be curt, be strong. With any luck, he’ll be on his way in a matter of minutes.
You slowly creep the door open, hands trembling slightly, revealing that all too familiar figure with his back resting against your doorframe. The porch light casting a golden glow over his dark hair, ruffled in every direction as you're sure he's been pulling at it. He turns his head to the sound of the door until those big, saddened eyes of his make your heart constrict in your chest. Growing tighter as you watch as his lips grow into that small, hopeful smile as he takes you in.
The eye contact becomes too much, you have to shift your focus away as he peels himself from the frame to greet you fully. You start gripping the wood of the door like a lifeline.
Clearing your throat before you finally speak up, "Dieter, you shouldn't be here. We've talked about this. We can’t be doing with this with—"
"—I wasn’t sure if you'd open the door, but… I’m so glad you did." The soft sincerity in his voice forces a dent into the armor of your resolve.
You sigh while you cross your arms over your chest, "Please, just go home. Davie's therapist said—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know what she said. I just can’t…” He sighs, “I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t need you. You know that right?” He slightly lowers his knees to catch your eyes again, then slowly reaches for your arm. You back up just enough to escape his hold and you can see the hope momentarily falter in his gaze.
"Don't do that. You and I both know there is absolutely nothing but trouble for either of us with you being here this late." You pull on the sleeves of your robe, as if that would be the shield that would be able to protect you here.
Dieter's hand comes up to rub at his forehead, "I just need to talk. To you. That's all." You scoff and roll your eyes but he continues on, "No, honestly. I have no one else I can go to about this. About her."
Your heart tightens up for a second at the mention of her, but it’s a good reminder of your purpose here, "Well then go find a therapist! We can't keep doing this Dieter! Or grow up and talk to your wife! Whatever this is about, I am sure it can wait until the morning." You start to back away a bit to close the door but Dieter stops your action with his hand. Keeping it open seemingly out of defense more than anything.
"It can't wait! And there is no one I could even go to this late." His eyes start to sparkle with the light bouncing off the tears forming in his eyes, "Come on, I really need this... please."
And that desperate plea is the true shot in the heart. Piercing through any amount of remaining conviction you had to leave him to his lonesome. His words hung in the air, heavy with both longing and strife while you both wait for your next move.
You stare into the sorrowful orbs of his, taking in the sheer amount of raw emotion written all over his face. Whatever events or conflicts that led him to your doorstep must have really struck a chord in him. That look of pain, guilt, but most notably, overwhelming sadness is one you've never been able to refuse, your own true weakness. It pains you to witness the heartache you know he's experiencing. No matter the number of times he’s come to you like this, it’s held the same amount of power over you. Tonight is no exception.
Your fingers itch with the urge to soothe the worry brows but you resist and instead release a deep, resigned sigh. Instead, turning around and walking further inside, leaving the door open in your wake.
Dieter needed no further invitation as he followed you in, quietly closing the door behind trailing on after you towards the kitchen. He watches as you start to climb up on top of the countertops to start rummaging through your cupboards, “Hot cocoa or tea?”
Coming up behind you, his hands lightly holding around your waist with the silent excuse of wanting to hold you steady “Hot cocoa please, my love.”
You turn around to look him in the eyes, “Don’t call me that.”
The two of you fall back into silence as you finally grab the hot chocolate mix and two mugs and hop down to the ground. You both go about your usual script as he finds his chair at your kitchen table as you start to work on heating the milk.
Watching you from the distance, he looks over at you like you’re his sun, moon, and stars. She would never do this. Of course not. Wouldn’t even come to mind for her, even if he did tell her what to do. But it did for you, it does every time he makes his way back over here like this. It’s an old habit, but one you picked up on early in your relationship. Something warm and cozy to sip on when the going got hard. At the beginning of his career, there were too many nights to count spent with one another in your shared, shitty, small one-bedroom apartment with mugs in hand as you would talk about the stresses of auditioning and his fears revolving around breaking into the industry.
You have always been so good to him. He's pulled from his thoughts as a mug is placed in front of him.
“Careful, it’s hot.” You go to step away but he softly grabs hold of your forearm.
“The couch?” That wishful tone and eyes of his will not grant you any peace. You silently nod and lead the two of you over to your designated spots on the soft couch.
As Dieter reaches for the blanket you were snuggled in earlier, you bundle yourself up tighter in your robe. “So, what’s going on?”
Dieter exasperatedly sighs and drops his head into his shoulder, hiding his face from you as much as he can.. “I just can’t do this anymore…”
He then goes on to tell you every mistake and perceived slight she's ever made against him. Every inconvenience she's caused and every way she has could have possibly done him wrong. And it's a convincing act, a part he plays too well as you watch the tears well and have to sit and listen to the resignation and torment in his voice.
“But, more than anything, she's just not you!” And with those words, your eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as yours immediately connect with his staring back at you with such intensity. You nearly forget to breathe, all of your muscles stiffen as you sit back completely frozen.
Dieter dashes to rip the blanket off of him and place his mug on the ground below. He scooches close to you and reaches for your hands tightly clinging to your own mug. However, the moment you feel his warm touch, he’s easily able to pull it from you and take it out of sight. “There’s no one like you. No one. I’ve tried and I keep searching… but I can’t keep pretending like you are not the one for me, my love.”
His warmth feels so genuine it burns through your defenses. In sheer moments, your icy wall of protection melts under his sincerity. Your hand comes up to brush over the tired scruff on his cheek, taking a second to notice it growing greyer than last time.
“Dieter, I–”
His hand snakes up to completely cover your own which pulls your attention back to those sweet, deep brown orbs of his. The soft smile that blooms there serves as the final piece to the beautiful trap he laid before you.
And you never stood a chance.
He slowly leans in even closer so his nose just graces your own, your eyes drooping low to match his. It's then that Dieter’s lips press against yours, hesitant at first, as though he's waiting for some resistance but he's met with none. In fact, you allow yourself to be lured deeper into his web as your fingers curl tight into dark, messy locks.
His kiss grows more fervent, a desperate need seeping through every movement, and you realize he’s not just kissing you—he’s consuming you. His arms snake around your waist as he leans into you, his weight pressing you deeper into the cushions. Your back meets the arm of the sofa, and his body effectively cages you there.
It should feel suffocating, should feel stifling, but in all honesty, it's freeing finally being allowed to give in. No point in pretending you don’t crave this just as much as he does. The one temptation you had sworn off for good for so many reasons, but one that you can ever fully let go.
The two of you finally part as you try to catch your breath. You pant in his ear as Dieter’s lips find their way to the corner of your mouth, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down your jawline. The scrape of his scruff grazes your skin with every movement, leaving a delicious rug-burn sensation in its wake. You tilt your head back instinctively, granting him access, and he takes it with a soft hum of approval, his lips lingering at the sensitive spot just below your ear.
“God, I’ve missed this,” he lowly whispers against your skin, his words barely audible but their effect still present. Utterly consumed by his touch, by his overwhelming presence that you have no more room to think. Dieter continues his slow, delicious assault on your neck as he trails down the length of your throat.
Suddenly, a warm pressure is placed on your stomach, not as painful as it was shocking, but causing you to quietly hiss nonetheless. His lips immediately shoot up to yours once again to stifle your surprise. It isn’t until the pressure moves upward that you look down to realize your robe lies untied around you, your loose shirt lifting up as his hand eases higher.
The realization causes your lips to upturn against his. You manage to wrangle your left hand free from him while you playfully nip at his bottom lip. His eyes open to meet yours when your hand meets his under your shirt. You watch his eyes flick down to watch as you drag it to cup your breast, palming it with him as he stares at the clothed scene in wonder. He then hesitantly toys with it as if waiting for you to pull him away.
Instead, you smirk devilishly at him, “What’s wrong, Dee? I know this isn’t your first time.” You peel your hand away from his to finally lift your shirt enough to reveal your pillowy flesh.
Your taunt draws his gaze back up to yours where his smile turns into something a little more sinister. You catch the glint in his eye that you’re sure wasn’t there before. His hand goes from its gentle embrace to a strong, powerful hold as he grips onto you.
You gasp and careen your neck away from him in response whilst he then dives into your other innocent breast. Taking the poor nub in whole as if he plans to swallow it whole until he releases it only to continue his barrage by lapping and teething at it. Once he’s completed his torture as he sees fit, he switches over and starts anew. All you can do is look away and endure the onslaught, biting onto your wrist in a worthless effort to control yourself.
With a final pop, he pulls off of your chest, satisfied he clinched that rebellion of yours. Dieter lifts his face to place one last searing kiss on your lips before he starts climbing off of you. You look up at him confused until he offers his hand out for you.
“What’s coming next is gonna need more room than just the couch.” His low, lustful grumble reverberates down your spine. You quickly shove your shirt back down and take his hand, allowing him to pull you up next to him. Dieter gestures you forward, letting you lead the way. Refusing to give up any ounce of contact, you grab hold of his hand as you both quietly make your way to your bedroom down the hallway.
Upon crossing the threshold, you do your part by starting to piece off your robe and pajama pants while Dieter shuts the door behind you both. Just as you grab hold of the hem of your shirt, you feel him come up around your shoulder, his hands coming up next to yours to help you pull yourself free. He leaves a soft kiss on the side of your neck before you push him away to go take a seat on the bed.
Dieter wastes no time catching up to you as he immediately starts stripping down to his socks, haphazardly throwing his clothes around the room like he’ll never need them again. You nonchalantly shake your head at his antics as he comes over to lie down next to you, his arm folded up behind his head.
You decide to flip around, situating yourself half on top of him, one of your legs draped between his. Your lips connect once again, slotting together in that perfect rhythm almost as if they were made to do so. His free hand coming up to the back of your head to keep you there while your hand travels down to meet his waiting member.
Dieter sucks in a sharp breath the moment you make contact while you take turns lazily scraping your nails up his length and teasing and tugging at his balls. At this point, he struggles to get enough air in as his breathing becomes heavier against you so you benevolently pull yourself away when he lets you go. Climbing down his body to join your hands down below. You make an obscene display as you start to pump up and down his length while he keeps his eyes on you, watching in marvel at the way you begin oogling his cock in front of you.
“Oh baby, please, don’t make me beg—aaah!” A stifled cry escapes him as you wrap your lips around the tip. Your hands continue their work as you drag your tongue around the curvature of the head like it’s your job. As you begin to take more of him in, you watch the quickening of his chest moving up and down, knowing how much he’s struggling to control himself as you move further and further down.
Eventually, you get far enough down, your hands are relieved of their duty as one floats down to continue massaging his balls. The other comes to rest on his stomach. Dieter’s hands fly to yours there, holding onto it like a lifeline as you work to finish him off.
“Oh god, oh god, oh, oh my–please, I can't…wait!”
You immediately look back up at him, pulling yourself off of him, concerned to see if he’s ok.
He pants as he swings his arm over his eyes, “I want to get to you too–” He swallows, “won’t be able to if i’m done this quick. Not as young as I used to be…”
“Oh, honey, did I get too carried away?”
Dieter picks up his arm so he can look right at you, “Not at all, baby, just don’t want the fun to be over is all.” He sits himself up onto his elbows and looks over your naked form once again, “That means it’s your turn.”
You giggle for a second before Dieter’s got your arm in hand and starts physically dragging you up his body. “Dieter!” You laugh, “what are you doing?”
He positions you as best he can right above him, “Sit down, been way too long since I’ve had a taste.”
“Dee, we don’t need to–oh!” Dieter fully pulls you down on top of his face so as to begin his affront. Your immediate reaction is to try to pull yourself free so he can breathe, but he won’t let up. He buries himself deeper in your drenched walls than ever before, his tongue coasting through your folds as if he is trying to not let even a drop of you behind. His nose continuously bumps up against your clit, adding to the madness brewing within you.
You don’t deign to leave this sweet corruption occurring below again, your hands flying to his hair below you as you grip onto both him and the headboard in front of you like a vice.
You softly plead out his name almost to the point of exhaustion until your orgasm finally falls over you. Dieter continues to lick after the new wave of wet until you’re patting his hands to let you free. He does indeed free you and you pull off, the two of you both gasping for air, your legs are still shaking as you slump against the headboard. You're faced the other direction, so you miss his Dieter flips onto his front, all content with himself. As he watches you, he can't seem to fight his impulses as he takes two fingers and quickly drags them through your folds one last time, causing you to whimper above him.
You turn around to see those mischievous eyes of his and laugh out a little “you bastard.”
That gets him to start openly grinning, “You know I've always been a fan of my sweets,” he responds as he happily pops his fingers into his mouth for that final taste.
Once you've gotten your strength back, you start to backpedal down next to him on the bed. The two of you both turn on your sides to face each other, your gazes locked onto each other. Dieter takes the move of looping around you, gathering your ass in his hand, and pulls you right up against him. You loop your leg to wrap around his ass as he captures your lips in a lazy kiss.
His lips break from yours as he leisurely starts pebbling his lips down your neck, nibbling your skin here and there to pull an amused hum out of you. Then, without peeling away from you, he starts slowly moving up from his place on the bed to climb over you, slotting himself between your legs as you welcome him further into your space.
You hear a rustling over next to you as Dieter starts searching the top shelf of your nightstand for the condoms he knows are there. He reaches and keeps struggling which causes you both to giggle.
Once he’s finally got it, he looks down at you all full of himself, “Are you ready?”
And you can’t quite find the words to respond back to him, hoping your approving hum and nodding is enough of an answer for him. It seems to be as he comes up to peck the tip of your nose before you feel him line himself up to your entrance. Your eyes flicker down to watch the action and your hand comes up to hold his cheek above you in encouragement.
You unconsciously take in a deep breath before he starts to slowly push in as far as he can. Once he is fully seated within you, you look up at his eyes once again to see him staring down at where the two of you connect. His breath against your chest is growing ever faster until your hand on his face goes to soothe his back along his spine.
It’s then his eyes come back up to see you again, a genuine smile on his face, the same one he had when you first started making love. It warms your heart to no end. You reflect that smile right back to him and mouth the words “go ahead”.
Dieter nods and immediately responds, carefully drawing himself in and out of you. The friction is intense. What started as you taking deep breaths between strokes turns into a near constant stream of moans and whimpers pouring out of you especially as he quickens his pace. Your soothing hand searches desperately for an anchor as you pull him down into your chest, your arms wrap and find purchase into his muffled hair.
Dieter leans down to kiss the space between your breasts as he momentarily slows down his rhythm, “Shh, baby, shh. You have to be quiet.” You whimper and nod above him as one of his hands goes to bury itself under your head.
You’re able to release your hold on him and usher him up to meet you once again in a kiss, hoping he’ll be able to muffle any noises you are trying so hard to stop. He happily complies with your wordless wish, continuing his laxed speed for your sake.
You’re finally able to find your voice after you’ve cooled down enough, pausing your kiss to whisper, “Go faster, let me take it.”
Dieter then offers you a wink before picking up his pace once more. He pulls his arms back from their place around you, trailing down the length of your body before he starts pushing up on the back of your thighs. He swiftly moves you into a mating press position and if you thought this was intense earlier, it only got better. Your hands fly to cover your own mouth as your repetitive moans threaten to grow louder at the new sensation.
Your eyes blown wide as you look up at him, he’s clearly getting to be just as worked up as you are. You can tell he knows you’re just about to reach your limit and sees it as a challenge. He releases your right leg, his hand then running down to your clit, working at it skillfully as he continuous to fuck into you.
“C’mon baby, cum for me. Let me feel her.”
All you can do is nod frantically back at him but your body gives in to the pleasure. Your orgasm washes over you in waves of intense release and relief.
Dieter, himself, is only a moment or so behind you before he reaches his peak as well. Ripping the condom off to chuck it who knows where before he rolls over to avoid collapsing on top of you.
The two of you slump back onto the bed exhausted. Lying down next to each other as you both face the ceiling. Your chests searching for breath once again.
“God, it's just incredible every time.”
You huff out a tired laugh, “Yeah, no kidding.”
His hand blindly finds yours on the bed, weaving your fingers together, your one connection to one another as the two of you lay there quietly for what feels like eternity.
His low timbre finally breaks the silence, “I wish things were always like this.” His hand lightly squeezes yours while his head falls to look over at you once again.
You sigh, “Me too,” your hand slipping out of his to then cover your eyes.
You feel the mattress move and bend, you don't need to see to know he's turned now to completely face you.
“So why can't we?”
“Dieter—”
“No, but really. How many times are we gonna play this game before we just admit we’re meant to be? You know it, I know it.” He takes the hand over your eyes and holds it in both of his as he leans down to kiss it. “I love you. You can keep pretending, but we both know you love me too.”
“Oh Dieter, stop it.” You pull your hand away from him, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and pushing yourself off to go find some sort of covering.
Dieter sits up on the bed, watching you throw your discarded robe and panties back on while you begin to pace, “Why? You know it's true–”
“Aren't you forgetting you have a WIFE?” You stop pacing to fully face him, “A wife waiting at home for you as we speak? The reason you came here in the first place?”
“Is that what this is all about? Because if you need her out, she can be gone by morning.”
“No, no! Dee, you're not listening. There are so many reasons why this won't work. Why it's never been able to work between us!”
“You are the mother of my child. The three of us are a family. What could be more important than that?”
“How about the fact that–”
A noise. Down the hall. The creak of a door followed by the pitter-patter of footprints past your room over to the living room. The two of you silently stare at your bedroom door until you hear the steps go out and towards the kitchen out of earshot.
A beat later, a renewed sense of resolve comes flooding over you. You turn your head to face him, your eyes staring daggers into his. In a firm, hushed tone, you lay down the law, “I’m not debating this with you. You need to leave. Now. I will not have us screw with Davie’s head because we can't seem to keep it in our pants.” You start picking up his clothes and throwing them in front of him on the bed. Not giving him the satisfaction of looking into your eyes any longer.
“But, my love…”
“No.” You gesture between the two of you, “This CAN NOT happen, it WILL NOT happen. There will be no more discussion on the matter. You need to go.”
“How am I supposed to–”
“Immediately, Dieter. You know the way out. I don't want to see you when I get back.” And with that, you adjust the knot around yourself one last time before you go out to check on your child.
What you miss is the way Dieter longingly stares out at the door while he's putting his clothes back on. The way he listens for the sound of your footsteps as he opens the window. The way he whispers your name under his breath before he climbs out of the place he once called home. How his hands shake as he tries to start his car only so he could drive off to the woman he knows could never replace you.
Summary: Nothing good could come from Dieter Bravo showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night. You have every reason imaginable to just tell him to beat it. But, then again, you never could say no to that face of his.
6076 Words | Joel Miller x Single Mom/f!reader (no y/n)
Summary: You are a single mother taking your young son west in the post-outbreak world. The two of you encounter Joel and Ellie after the fiasco that was Kansas City with the common goal of heading west.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni; DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: Graphic Depictions of horror sequence (i.e. burning bodies of infected and loved ones). Vivid description of panic attack, hints at former abusive relationship dynamics (not Joel), handling of guns and knives, inferno/massive bonfire, angst! + blink-and-you-miss-it fluff, anxiety/paranoia, feelings of shame, fear, helplessness, and embarrassment, arguing, talk of nature. Otherwise, this chapter is sfw, but later chapters will not be some please be aware. Reader’s age is unspecified but she has a 5-year-old son.
This one is a very intense read in some parts, please prioritize your mental well-being if the contents might be triggering.
A/N: So, after a million and one drafts out the way, I finally have the next installment of the series. I wanted to make a taglist but tbh I don’t know how to put that out there so if you’d be interested in that feel free to comment or send me an ask to lmk! Any sort of interaction is much appreciated but feedback of any kind (asks, comments, or reblogs) is the best kind of encouragement and more than welcome. Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!
series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter
When morning comes, the feeling of immense relief washes throughout your whole body. You and Junior made it through the night and Joel didn’t try a thing. In fact, he didn’t so much as look at you beyond periodically dragging his eyes over the vast darkness. And maybe if you weren’t so guarded, so distrusting, that could be enough proof that you and Junior were going to be fine. That you could leave the pistol in your bag and finally find it in you to get some sleep.
But, then again, maybe you’d end up dead.
It was a risk you weren’t willing to take. Not with the way his gaze still sent chills racing down your nerves. So, while Joel refuses to give up his nightly post for the next week or so, it has been nothing but sleepless nights for you and a tight feeling in your gut.
Instead, your nights consist of watching his every move. Which, for the most part, didn’t consist of much. However, every night right around the time the moon reaches its highest peak, Joel pulls out a little black case from his backpack. It’s slightly smaller than his hand and, from what you can tell, is otherwise nondescript. But, as soon as you see it, you can’t tear your attention away from him. Your heart picking up its pace at the sight of the seemingly innocuous box.
He’ll start by picking out a weapon of some kind from his rather impressive arsenal, usually a gun or blade of some sort, and begin his routine of thoroughly inspecting the night’s spotlighted item. Using whatever is in that little case, Joel will work diligently, with exacting precision, to ensure the piece is in pristine condition. Methodically picking apart his firearms and cleaning every crevice and curve with practiced ease. Or examining every inch of his various knives and sharpening them to a lethal point.
It terrifies you in all honesty, witnessing the confidence and ease he possesses while toying with deadly means. The menacing manner in which he holds them, perfectly molded to his calloused hands, as if they were an extension of himself. You don’t dare to let yourself imagine all of the pain and destruction those weapons have caused, the atrocities those hands have committed. The thoroughness of his craft is evidence enough for you.
It takes everything in you not to take Junior and run. To flee in any other direction knowing what that man is capable of doing. At what you can only assume he’s done. Then again, you try to remind yourself, that the danger that is so ingrained in his being is supposed to be beneficial. Although, it’s hard to see it that way for now.
Especially since Joel has made it abundantly clear he is still not at peace with this arrangement of yours. You are positive that, if it were up to him, he would dump you and Junior in an instant if he knew he wouldn’t be hearing from Ellie about it all the way to Wyoming. But, he would, so you are still here. His attitude towards you becomes more passive as each day wears on, more so reluctant than resentful.
Ellie, meanwhile, has been quite the opposite and you’ve found you have really grown to like the girl over these past couple of days. She’s smart, quick-witted, and endlessly curious. You’ve come to really enjoy her company, especially when you are foraging. She volunteers to join you from time to time, bringing with her boundless amounts of questions about every step of your process. Not that you mind at all, her eagerness to learn is quite endearing and you have no problem sharing your knowledge.
But, more than anything, she’s been good for Junior. When left to their own devices, Ellie and Junior have been able to find the fun anywhere, bringing out the competitive edge in one another in any game they play. It’s also been fun to watch how they get along, teasing one another or swapping stories. The best part, though, is watching Ellie’s humor rub off on your little guy. She’s sharp, but Junior has been picking up on it and even, at times, serving it back.
They seem to be good for each other, a good distraction from the world around them. And that’s enough for you to know that this is right where you and Junior need to be. Yes, Joel scares you, but you can deal with tempering your fraying nerves if it means your son is safe and happy.
By day 5, the four of you have carved out a relatively standard routine. In the morning, Joel will give a run down of what the day’s hike is going to look like followed by everyone working to pack up and hit the road in your, now, regular walking formation. Joel will take the lead way ahead of the rest of the group while you handle caboose more than a couple paces behind him. You’re not exactly sure who established the distance but you’re grateful for it nonetheless. The kids also help by providing an additional barrier sandwiched between the two of you. And this fragile ecosystem seemed to be enough to last you all until dusk where the two camps would separate to hunt and forage. Tensions were highest during dinner, but as long as either you or Joel left the moment either of you finished eating. It was enough to prevent a massive blow up argument.
But on day 11, that pattern was disrupted.
It was getting to be late afternoon, Ellie was describing an old video game she loved to Junior, who was hanging on her every word. You thought it sounded vaguely familiar, The Turning? It’s been so long since you even thought about video games you are sure they have all blended together in your brain.
“Yeah! And then there is this character, Angel Knives, she’s my favorite.” Her hands mimicking the character’s finesse with dramatic flair, “She has this epic finishing move where she punches a hole straight through her opponent’s chest right before she can–”
“MAMA! LOOK!”
Junior’s yelp had you nearly jumping out of your skin. In an instant, you are frantically reaching for your boot to grab your knife and searching the area for threats. You turn to see Joel doing the same. Running over to your trio, shotgun held at the ready. Your first instinct is to push Junior behind you and softly shush the boy at your side while petting his head. But instead of ducking or cowering behind you, he is tugging on your pants. Peeking down, you see the puzzled expression written all over his face and you immediately soften. Crouching down to be eye-level with the boy.
He gets close to whisper in your ear, “Shadbush, Mama.” Junior’s little finger points out to a patch of trees just off to the left and your heart nearly bursts at the sight.
Just as your knife thuds to the ground, you thrust the boy up into your arms and swing him around, “Good eye buddy! Excellent find!”
It’s then you hear annoyed grumbling coming from behind. You turn around to see both a confused looking Ellie and a nearly boiling Joel apparently not as pleased with this new discovery as you are. “What in the hell was that?! He can’t just yell out like that! There could be anyone–”
You nonchalantly shrug off the man and place Junior back on the ground. Keeping your tone light and playful, you tease the older man as your focus remains on your son, “Oh, cut the kid some slack, he just found your lunch.”
“I don’t care if– Raising his voice like that doesn’t work here. It can’t happen.”
You hold your hands up in mock surrender, “Ok! I’ll talk to him about it.” You look over to Ellie, “Do you like berries by any chance?” Gesturing her to follow you before dishing Joel out a daring glance.
Before you care to look at his direction, you turn and head over to a group of shrub-like trees off your path. You hear two eager sets of footsteps behind you as Ellie and Junior make to follow you. Just as you reach the tree’s roots, you bend a knee, fishing through your backpack.
You clean out an old jar before returning your attention to the kiddos. “So, Junior here did a great job of pointing out these plants here called Shadbush trees. They’re found all over North America and are known to be pretty tough, surviving in dry or cold climates. In the spring, they grow clusters of dainty white blossoms so by summer they can produce these bad boys.” You pick a couple dark, almost black blueberry-looking fruits and hand them over to Junior and Ellie, “They’re called serviceberries. Best when they’re this rich bluish-purple shade, they have more antioxidants and iron than blueberries.”
Junior’s quick to sample one of his old favorites once again, humming his approval as he holds out his hand for more. Instead, you plop the newly cleaned jar into his hands and before you return to your task of collecting some serviceberries for the road. handing him over your newly cleaned jar. Pretending not to notice while he slyly snags a few from the container.
Ellie, meanwhile, has yet to try them. Shifting her gaze from the berries in her hand and looking out behind her. Peaking over her shoulder, you catch the tail end of Joel’s shaking head. You can see Ellie’s internal struggle battling out inside her before she walks up behind you and rips free a couple more berries from the tree.
Before you even have the chance to ask, she’s off. Hightailing it over to Joel where she sets her hand out right in front of the man. “Ok, seriously? You’re gonna let the five-year-old show up the so-called master survivalist? Gotta say, I'm disappointed, Joel.”
Joel mockingly rolls his eyes as a reluctant smile breaks free from him, “Whatever you little shit.” Slowly raising his hand to accept both the berries and defeat.
Joel then quickly looks over at you to be met with your teasing expression as you pop the serviceberries in your own mouth. That must be enough of a sign for him as he signals his ok for both himself and Ellie to try them out.
And Ellie is just so smug as she walks back over triumphantly leading Joel behind her. You can’t help the laugh that slips out of you at the sight of his defeat but even your recovery cough does nothing to save you from the icy glare he sends your way.
Viewing that as your warning, you refocus on your task of filling up your jar with the sweet fruit while Ellie re-explains your earlier spiel. Unsurprisingly, it seems he doesn’t care enough to listen as he immediately goes about grabbing for the reddest berries available. Munching on the clearly under-ripe fruit, a small smile graces his face for only a moment before his wall of stoicism returns, however he still goes reaching for more.
Ellie’s face is just as puzzled as you feel as she leans over into your side, “The red ones won’t make him start sprouting extra limbs now, right?”
You laugh while shaking your head at her, “Not exactly, but that would be quite the sight.”
Joel grunts in response next to Ellie, not tearing his attention from the new snack.
Once you’re done packing away your goodies for later, you reach back through your backpack to pull out an old, battered book and broken pencil you had stored among your other supplies. As your final token, you take off a leaf from the shadbush before finding a sunny spot to sit. Opening the book to a new page before lodging the leaf in its spine and going about writing down your thoughts of the specimen.
Moments later, your light vanishes as a figure appears above you. Looking up, you see a perplexed Ellie looking down at your little set up. “What are you working on there?”
“Notes. Just an old habit of mine.”
“What kind of notes? Love letters to trees?” She gives you a mischievous smirk before she leans over to glance at your work.
“No, more like observations. The tree, the leaves, its fruit, all that good stuff. In just a second here I’m gonna flip through to my notes on the shadbush back near KC, see if they’re any differences there.”
“Nice.” She leaves you to your thoughts for another minute before she pipes up once again, “So, how did you get into all of this stuff?”
“I grew up surrounded by this, actually. My dad was a botanist and my mom was a forager, a match made in heaven. They used to take me out on field work assignments since I was right around Junior’s age. I guess you could say their passion rubbed off on me. I used to study plant identification textbooks in my free time so I could be just like–”
Joel clears his throat, with Junior at his side, he looks over at the two of you with red-stained hands folded over his chest, “Everyone had their fill?” Three heads nod in unison, “Then let’s move out.”
Getting back on trail, spirits seem to be uncharacteristically high. As much as you’d like to attribute it to a (hopefully) satisfied stomach, something in the back of your mind can’t quite come to terms with that explanation. Especially in regards to Joel.
The enigma that man is. For well over a week now, Joel has offered you nothing but coldness and that piss-poor attitude of his. The best gift he’s given you thus far being the distance he warrants between the two of you so you don’t have to deal with his brutish ways.
However, it appears that a simple lunch of some wildberries after a long day’s hike has been enough to tame that beastly demeanor. Given, he’s no ray of sunshine, but you’ll take even-tempered over that snarling glare of his anyday. He didn’t even give you a hard time when you made the decision to call it quits for the day. Just a calm nod before going about starting his camp prep protocol.
It’s a stark change, but nevertheless much appreciated. You can only hope it can stay like this until Denver.
Now that you don’t have to play temper olympics with the man, you can focus all of your energy on clearing out your chosen area of camp. With close to two weeks’ experience under your belt, you have refamiliarized yourself with how to efficiently set up camp. You are getting close to catching up to Joel and Ellie even. But, they are still quicker so after fixing up their spots, they head out to hunt.
Before long, you and Junior break out on your own to go scout for what you can with the remaining sunlight you have left. The pickings around here aren’t bad, you gathered up a hearty bunch of leafy greens and a couple mushrooms. Junior’s on top of his job too, his arms full of little sticks and moss to use as kindling for tonight’s fire.
Like every other night, throughout the duration of your walk, Junior earnestly shares every detail of his day with Ellie. About how she has the best jokes. She's so much fun to play with but she is not very good at i-spy (it’s funny how he can’t detect her lies quite yet). How neat she is and how she can do this really cool knife trick. He goes about explaining the trick and claims she said she is going to teach him how to do the same. And like every other night, you listen to his every word with fascination and amazement as if you hadn’t been three paces behind them all day.
When you both finally make it back to camp, the realization hits you. You haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to him since you agreed to partner up with the other two. What does he think about this whole situation? Surely he has to have some thoughts about it.
You call the boy over, pulling him from his antics from across the firepit. He gleefully comes skipping over, standing right beside you to come and see what you need, ““So, bud, what do you think about walking with Ellie and Joel?”
He begins to rock back and forth on his feet, “I like it! Ellie’s my friend!”
His enthusiasm makes you giggle, “I know you like Ellie hun, but are you ok walking with them this whole time? It might be a long time until we reach Denver.”
“Ok” He then goes about trying to find a new rock to play with until you wordlessly corral him back over to you, plopping him down in your lap.
“Is that a no? Because we don’t need to walk with them if you don't want to.”
“I like walking with them!” He starts to fiddle with his hands, “How much longer until we get there?”
“I am not exactly sure, buddy. But it's going to take a while.”
“Oh.”
Your heart breaks for the kid. Although he has been such a good sport about these hikes, you know it’s not easy for a kid his age.
Pushing back the thought, you go back to your original question, “How about Joel? Are you ok if he’s with us too?”
“Ellie likes him so I like him.” You can’t say you’re shocked. Humming in agreement as Junior watches you go about sparking the fire, “Joel is nice. He helped me reach the berries today.”
Now that takes you aback. “He helped you?”
“Uh huh, he picked me up to reach the purple berries when I couldn’t pick anymore.”
How did you miss that? Before you could think on it anymore, you hear Ellie’s laughter coming from a distance.
Before long, Ellie comes marching over, snickering at the man, “Please just be grateful we came back with anything at all. Would have been an easy shot but klutzy over here scared the thing away the first time and almost cost us all dinner” Mockingly shaking her head as she goes to claim her corner of camp. Chucking her bag on her spot before she goes about setting it up. Junior, ever her shadow, leaps up from your lap to follow her, standing over there with her as she spreads out her sleeping bag and such.
Joel amusingly rolls his eyes, “Almost being the key word there.” He says, displaying the captured quarry at his side.
Without another word, Joel shrugs off his bag next to you and situates himself by your side. Joel gets right on task working to fix up tonight’s game, parallel to your efforts to tend to the small flame you’ve created.
By the time you are satisfied with the state of the fire, you begin to feel yourself dragging. It becomes quite apparent that your lack of sleep for the last however long is starting to take its toll. Mind starting to fog, you unknowingly fixate your eyes on where Joel is working until he clears his throat next to you. You pull your gaze to meet his. There’s a judgmental quality to his face and you know you’ve been caught.
Luckily he doesn’t bring it up. Not that you would expect him to. Usually at this point of the day mutual silence is the right way to go. But, to your surprise, that’s not the case tonight.
“What did you call those berries from earlier?”
The topic definitely catches you off guard, “Umm… serviceberries.”
“Hm.” You think that’s the end of it when he grabs for a skewer stick, getting back to his work but he keeps going on, “They related to juneberries by any chance?”
Your forehead crinkles in shock and confusion, “Yea. Juneberries is another name for serviceberries. How did you–”
Joel slowly nods his head with a little smile, “I knew those things seemed familiar. Haven’t seen ‘em in decades but my grandma had a couple trees for a while back in Austin. My brother and I used to go picking out all the red ones with her every summer to have some juneberry pie.”
“No kidding! I was wondering why you were gunning for those!” You laugh, “And you said Austin, right? I thought I heard that Texas Twang in there somewhere.”
He breathes out a laugh for a second before his face hardens. Any emotion gone once again. “Yeah. It was a long time ago.”
You wanted to say something or ask what happened by Joel’s already wrestling himself to his feet. Taking his bag with him to scope out the best spot for tonight’s watch. He doesn’t get any better when the food is ready. That emotionless expression still hangs on his face when the four of you sit down for chow.
Not that you pay much attention to it. The exhaustion taking root deeper with each passing minute. You’re a waste conversation-wise. Junior and Ellie’s retelling of a memory from earlier turning to mush in your brain as you fight to stay awake. This time, the visual of the fire holds your stare as your brain comes to a blank. You are entirely focused on the way the wood crackles and burns.
Your eyes drift close without your permission and you could have fallen asleep right there if it weren’t for a tapping on your shoulder. Turning your head, you see Junior looking at you expectantly. “Mama, it’s bedtime.”
A deep sigh, “Yes it is. I’ll meet you over there.” You manage to tiredly rise on your own, catching Joel giving you a side eye glance from across the fire.
You stop to angle your body in his direction and cross your arms over your chest to begin the daily argument, same as every night before, “About watch tonight…”
Joel looks you up and down from his spot on the floor, “Don’t even try it. You’re barely awake as it is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your tone is dead serious but your yawn completely gives you away.
When that doesn’t do anything to sway the man, you decide to try out a new strategy. You take a deep breath, your voice softens when you speak once again, “Listen, I appreciate the fact you’ve been staying up for all of us. Really. But, you’d serve us and yourself better if you actually got some rest. It’s part of the reason I’m here to begin with. By staying up every night, you’re doing everyone a disservice.”
Joel takes a minute to consider your words before he flatly responds, “You can have tomorrow night.”
Even in your tired state, your heart is doing flips in your chest at the small win. You do your best to rein in your reaction so as to not throw it in his face, ”I’ll accept that. Goodnight.” You turn to wish Ellie the same before walking away so he can’t change his mind.
A fatigued smile crosses your face as you assist Junior into the sleeping bag. Slipping in behind him before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead in goodnight. You don’t even think to grab your gun before you drift soundly into dreamland.
Opening your eyes, to find the happily squealing baby below you. Your baby. He’s all smiles as he looks right back at you. Cooing with excitement as his mama appears once again for him. He makes grabby hands at you and you can’t help but indulge as you lift the babe in your arms. Lightly bouncing him at your side as you pepper little kisses all over his cheek.
“He looks more like you every single day.”
Your heart constricts at the sound of that voice. The familiarity sends shivers down your spine as you twist your head to look at its owner. A man walks into the room with a large, dopey smile, looking down upon you and the child in your hands with both clear love and adoration. He crouches down to be eye level with your little booger and goes about making funny faces that has Junior roaring with laughter. He laughs right along with the little guy, their smiles an exact mirror of one another.
The man reaches for your son and, while your mind screams at you to shove him away and run, your conscience is powerless as your arms freely hand the baby over to him. It’s clear he can’t see your struggle as he stands up and lifts the boy up high into the air. Blowing a loud raspberry into his belly.
He holds Junior at his side and offers you an arm to raise you up. Your internal sirens are blaring warnings of danger but nevertheless you can feel your lips stretch out into a smile as you take his hand.
“Monster here been good to you today, sugar?”
“Like always, just a happy boy! His favorite of the day has been peekaboo. Here, watch this!” You close your hands over your eyes.
When you open them though, you’re alone. The world around suddenly turned pitch black. Your confusion morphs into terror as you hear screams and wails of pain calling out from behind you. You quickly jolt around to find a massive bonfire stretched out as your entire line of vision is consumed by the inferno. The cries were like knives, slicing through the air and piercing her eardrums with a cacophony of anguish. They call out your name, and your mind screams at you to run. Heading straight right towards them and trying to seek out the sources of these agonized voices.
It hits you that the cries are coming out from the fire itself. You go sprinting over right to the edge of the fiery pit and are confronted with a sight that nearly makes you hurl. Bodies, piles upon piles of them everywhere, engulfed in flames. Infected, non-infected, all together in one giant heap, tortured moans calling out your name.
Upon closer inspection, you realize you recognize the faces amongst the bodies burning to a crisp before you. Family. Friends. Long-time companions and short-lived acquaintances. Massacred before you.
Utterly distraught, you scour along the blazing drive for any way to extinguish and free your loved ones with no such luck. The heat beside you was unbearable, blistering your skin to the point you might as well have been consumed by the flames too. With each familiar face you pass, the crushing weight of your helplessness intensifies. Unable to do a thing to rid them of their misery. Childhood friends. Old partners from the QZ. Neighbors and lovers. Mentors and teachers from a lifetime ago.
But there is one face amongst the rest that has you screeching to a halt. It's shrieking louder than anyone else as its body begins to char right in front of you. It harshly thrashes back and forth, twists and shaking in agony but otherwise rendered completely immobile. Paralyzed as you stare down at the body you know all too well.
You bolt upright with a gasp. Tightly clutching on to your shirt as your heart feels like it is beating right out of your chest. At the same time, you can’t seem to find close to enough air as you verge on the edge of hyperventilating. Suddenly feeling too constricted, you fight tooth and nail to free yourself from the claustrophobic sleeping bag keeping you bound.
Scrambling to your feet, the darkness around you is all too reminiscent of the scene in your head. Your first instinct is to run but your legs are too shaky to convince to follow through. Then, you feel a large hand touch your forearm. You nearly jump out of your skin. Raising your arms in defense, shutting your eyes tight in anticipation of the worst to come.
Whatever it was you were expecting, it wasn’t the soft, concerned whispering of your name, “Hey, hey! It’s ok. You’re ok. Deep breaths.” But you can’t move, your whole body shaking uncontrollably. Too overwhelmed to face your reality. The voice speaks once again. “Hey! Try to focus right here. Alright? Listen to my voice. Breathe in, you got it come on… Good. Now, breathe out. Again. Deep breath. Try to hold it, one, two, three. Ok, good and breathe out, two, three. Keep doing that. Good girl. Keep going.”
You are able to peel your eyes open to see a concerned Joel a few feet in front of you. His hands stretched out as if he was trying not to spook an animal. Once you have it convinced you’re actually ok, your arms drop down to your sides. Your body folding in on itself and sagging down to the floor.
Joel must realize you don’t see him as a threat anymore as he carefully steps closer to you. He slowly offers you a hand up. You internally cringe at the sight, all too reminiscent of your dream but you end up taking it from him. Joel is then right by your side, cradling your side as you orient yourself to an upright position. He holds you close, supporting your weight against the warm mass of his side.
“Look at me.” And you try to comply, looking at the dark shape of him next to you as your eyes well up with tears. “You ok?”
As you open your mouth, your words fail you. Instead a sob chokes its way out of you. Next thing you know, Joel’s leading to the tree he had taken post at. He crouches down to gently lean you up against it and comfortingly rubs the back of your hand as he watches you.
You think you hear another voice but you can’t find it in you to investigate if it's real. It must be, though, because Joel looks over his shoulder then right back to you, “Sit tight, I’ll be right back.” You nod in acknowledgement but find you miss his heat the moment it leaves you.
You are still working on cooling your beating heart rate and schooling your breathing when he comes back a couple minutes later. Your mind has finally been allowed to return to you so when you see him approach, you are filled with appreciation for the man. His hulking presence, once a foreboding picture to behold, now a very welcome sight.
He comes over to the tree, kneeling down on one knee in front of you and tilting his head so your eyes connect his, “That was Junior. He’ll be fine, just wanted to know what happened to his mom. You cold?”
Your voice comes out scratchy in your reply, “No, uh, yes. I don’t know, I’m—”
Joel twists around to find his bag. Fisting his hand around inside to pull out another flannel shirt of his, “This work?”
You nod and he hands it over to you before he stands up once again. He picks up the shotgun he deserted earlier and situates himself on the opposite side of the tree. Thankfully giving you the space you still desperately crave.
Neither one of you says a word. The world around you is silent, however, your mind is anything but. You can still hear muffled screaming as horrifying images of the nightmare shuffle through your head. The fire, the miles of bodies, countless singed faces including your own. They haunt you.
Your thoughts are disrupted by a cool breeze coasting by, returning your attention to the flannel in your hands. You bundle yourself up in the fabric, draping it over your shoulders and torso in a sort of makeshift blanket. And to your surprise, it helps. The weight of the material acting as an anchor of sorts. Keeping you grounded while your brain works to right itself back to reality.
Once your mind is free enough, those all too familiar feelings of shame and embarrassment begin to creep in. You cringe at the show of weakness you put fully on display for Joel. Shit like that is what gets you killed out here. You know he’s been dying to get rid of you, this was going to be the one thing to set him over the edge for sure.
You angle your head in Joel’s direction, “Junior and I can be out of your hair by dawn. I just want to give him a full night’s rest before we go.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joel twist in your direction briefly before turning back around. “Why in the hell would ya do that? Denver is at least another two weeks' walk from here.”
“I know. But I understand if you wouldn’t want us with you–”
“Did I ask you to leave?”
“No,” You look over at him quizzically. Surely he must be joking, “But, I also know the three-strikes-you’re-out rule didn’t really carry over after the outbreak.”
Joel’s whole body sighs, “As long as that’s your prerogative, that’s fine. But don’t tell the kid I was the one that kicked y’all out.”
Nope, you’re pretty sure he’s serious, “Ok, then we’ll stay if that’s alright.” He grunts behind you in acknowledgement.
You turn back around, resting your head against the tree. “Thank you… by the way. For your help back there. Truly.”
You hear the sound of his back twisting against the bark to look at you, “You’re welcome. Feeling like yourself again?”
“For the most part. Sorry you had to deal with that.”
“Don’t be. I wasn’t the one dealing with the attack. ‘Sides, everyone gets nightmares in the apocalypse.” His voice grows to be a bit more strained, “Did you want to talk about it?”
Your muscles grow rigid at the thought, “Not really. I think I need to sit on those demons a little longer. Not that I think you are dying to hear about it anyway.” Even with your back turned, you can almost see the sigh of relief you’re sure he just exhaled.
And its silence once again, only this time it quickly turns awkward. Taking a deep breath, you toy with your fingers as you twist your head his way once again, “Do you mind if I stay up with you?”
There’s too long of a pause before his reply, “Uhh… sure.”
“Thanks.”
You hear shuffling from the other side of the tree. Peeking over your shoulder, you see Joel produce that little black case and make to grab his shotgun. Getting right to task, he expertly disassembles the weapon. The sleek metal finding its home in his careful hands. The sight just 24 hours ago would have set your heartbeat to a new tempo, but now? Watching his handiwork almost has a soothing quality to it.
The exactness of his movements mixed with the practiced ease he handles the various pieces of the gun serve as a testament to the man’s competence. The thoroughness of his craft truly indicative of the level of knowledge and skill he has wielding the weapon.
More than anything, though, it is clear there is a lot of care he puts into his workmanship. Care that, as you witnessed just earlier, extends beyond the act of cleaning his arsenal.
Looking back, Joel was so careful with how he coaxed you out of your state of terror. Softly talking you down when you didn’t have the capability to do it on your own. Attending to your needs when even you couldn’t figure out what it was that you needed. In your moment of total and complete vulnerability, where one could have easily taken advantage of your condition, he took it upon himself to help you through your struggle. Tending to you like the most fragile, delicate thing. He didn’t need to do any of that, but he did anyway.
When he starts reassembling his piece. One thing becomes clear to you. There is a danger in him. A survivor, a warrior. But there is also a certain humanness about him. A provider, a caretaker, a protector. You are much better off in his company. In more ways than one.
Summary: After a grueling day at work, Frankie finds solace in the comforting embrace and joyful presence of his partner at home.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, cumplay, suggestive touching, aftercare, domesticity kink (?), established relationship, lots of nicknames, unhealthy work-life balance, protective tendencies, kissing, affection, flirting/teasing, exhaustion, excitement/celebration, reference to an amazing song,
Immersability: reader is shorter than Frankie, has hair that can be tucked behind their ear, and can be held (don’t worry babe he’s got you).
A/N: This is my submission for @prolix-yuy 's #bangathon2024 event. I got the Placid Embrace and a Mr. Frankie Morales was the first thing that came to my mind. I had so much fun with this piece! Thank you so much LJ for the challenge! Translations are listed at the bottom. I hope you enjoy reading!
The door groans on its hinges as Frankie pushes it shut. The moment it clicks into place, he collapses against it, the cool wood a stark contrast to his heated skin. His backpack thuds to the floor, yet the invisible weight on his shoulders remains, dragging him down with relentless heaviness. It’s been a long day. A long week. Hell, a long few months, and he’s just tired. Working doubles at the garage has been no easy feat, especially with summer in full swing. And it’s not just the sweltering Florida heat. It’s wreck season, which means a never-ending influx of cars, part orders backed up for weeks on end, and the constant stream of frustrated customers cycling in and out of the store.
But this will all be worth it. It’s temporary, and it will be coming to an end here soon. You and Frankie have each been working doubles, putting in a lot of overtime, with the goal of saving for your first house. The apartment you share is nice, convenient, but the two of you have plans. For the future. He thinks back to the ring he has hidden in his sock drawer. It can’t come soon enough.
He feels a buzz from his pocket and slumps further down the door. He doesn’t need to look to know who it is. It’s Friday which means guys’ night and Santi’s texting out details right on schedule. He rubs his aching head. God, if that is not the last thing he wants to do right now. His social battery diminished to nothing in dealing with too many Karen's berating him for every reason imaginable.
No, he can’t handle that right now. Right now he needs a break, he needs to unwind every ounce of stress he has piled on, he needs–
“Let’s Groove Tonight!
Share the spice of life
Baby slice it right
We’re gonna groove tonight!”
He can’t suppress his growing smile as he finally releases his bag and toes off his shoes. The scent of simmering garlic and butter wafts from the kitchen, where he finds you bouncing around to the song in your t-shirt and pajama pants. Frankie leans up against the doorway as you give the performance of a lifetime. Earth, Wind, & Fire have nothing on you the way you cut up the imaginary dancefloor, pouring your heart into every lyric with them. A view he’s been missing for too long. You stop every few seconds or so as you also happen to be making dinner.
“Let this groove, get you to move
It’s alright, alright, alright
Let this groove, set in your shoes
So stand up, alright, alright
Oh! Frankie!”
You turn around to find your man smiling back at you with that adorably tired, happy grin plastered on his face. You lower the volume, your footsteps soft on the kitchen tiles as you cross over to him. Quickly pecking him on the lips before going back to the saucepan on the stove and gesturing for him to follow. He does so, wrapping himself behind you as you raise your wooden cooking spoon to his lips.
“It’s alfredo sauce, what do you think?” You tilt your head, a slight smirk on your lips.
“Mmm, it’s perfect, abejita.” Your eyes remain connected until he starts kissing up your neck, his hands tracing up and down your hips as a low moan slowly escapes you.
“Needs some more parmesan, I think.” He hums, but he’s not really listening to your words as he nuzzles his head to rest over your shoulder.
Frankie drifts off into his own world, the warmth of your body and the gentle rhythm of your dancing consuming him whole. He mindlessly flows along with you as you continue to bounce along to the song. You don’t seem to mind him crowding which is good because he doesn’t think he could try to tear himself from you even if he wanted to. Molding your bodies together into one.
A slower song replaces the last, one much better suited for his current mindset and he begins to sway with you in his arms. His eyelids grow heavy, each blink lingering as he soaks in the sight of you, the soft glow of the kitchen light casting a halo around your figure. Only to be disturbed by the soothing addition of your fingers coasting through the waves of his hair that peek out from beneath his cap. Frankie frees his messy curls in favor of allowing you the room to roam. Your calm ruffling continues to lull him and he can feel himself get lighter around you.
It’s peace. This, right here. There isn’t a worry in the world that could touch him right now. You are everything he could possibly need and he would do anything for you. But in this moment? You two are the only things that exist.
You turn your head, speaking softly into his temple, “Is today your Friday?” Other than Benny’s fight nights, the Delta guys rotate whose place they go to hang out after the bar and you’ve been so good and accommodating for him every time he asks.
Frankie laughs tiredly as he buries himself further into the soft t-shirt covering your shoulder, “To be honest, I don’t know.”
You bring your hand down the side of his cheek, pawing at the scruff there, “Well, if it is, can you start picking up around here? I’m almost done with this.”
“I’m not going tonight, cariño.” he says, giving you those sad puppy dog eyes that he knows are absolutely irresistible to you.
“Oh, honey.” You set down your spoon, cup his face with both hands, and move your body slightly so you’re looking right into his tired eyes. “Hey, is everything ok? It’s been a busy week, usually you’re itching to relax with the boys.”
Frankie shakes his head and takes your hands from his face. The work-worn rough feel to his hands directly opposes the softness of your own, “I’m fine, querida, just exhausted. I just need you tonight. Only you can bring me back to life.” He bundles you up tighter in his embrace, resting his lips against your temple now.
A genuine smile warms your face as you turn back to the boiling pasta, “Well that’s awfully poetic of you.”
“What can I say, hmm? You bring out the best in me.” You can feel his cheesy smirk bloom against your head.
You roll your eyes at him and playfully slap one of the arms around you. “Okay then, Morales, you’re stuck with me then tonight. I’m not kidding about dinner, though. If you don’t want it to be cold by the time you’re done freshening up, I’d suggest you get a move on.”
But Frankie is feeling a bit cheeky as he travels down to your ear, “But I think I’d rather wait for you to join me.” His hand travels up your spine, sending shivers racing through you like lightning.
You’re not falling for it though. You keep staring down at the stove as you reply, “That’s fine, but then I can’t tell you the surprise.”
Frankie immediately perks up, “A surprise? What are we talking about here?”
You mockingly gasp, clutching your chest aghast, “You want ME to spoil the surprise for YOU?” You click your tongue in fake admonishment, swinging the spoon up at him, “I would never do such a thing! The choice is yours, bear.”
“Alright, you have me there. I’ll be right back.” He offers a quick kiss before going off to grab his things and heading to the bedroom.
A buzz, another buzz, one more, and he decides not to push it off any further. It’s Darts at Shandy’s tonight, his usual favorite. But, in his mind, there really is no competition. Sure, the guys will give him hell, maybe he’ll have to buy the first few rounds, but he’d gladly take that if that means he gets to be with you. He texts back some lame excuse and sets his phone on do not disturb. Nothing is more important than spending time with the woman he loves.
After washing the grime and stress of the day off of him, he spots a fresh set of pajamas lying on the bed that has your name written all over it. Freshly toweled off, Frankie comes out to meet you with a newfound energy. You are still humming along to your music, a little sway in your step.
He spies the back of your shirt rising just the slightest bit as you struggle to grab for the plates right out of your reach. Frankie sneaks up behind you and wraps a hand in the sliver of skin available on your hip as he easily grabs them.
He winks as he hands them off to you, “Where would you be without me, mi amor?” His teasing tone matches the smirk on your lips.
“I’d have shorter shelves, I’ll tell you that.” You bump your hip into his playfully causing him to dramatically stumble away into the counter too far behind him.
He clutches his heart, “Oh how you wound me. I have to contribute something to this relationship. Who am I if not your professional plate fetcher?”
“Well, if that’s all you’re good for, it’s so much less work to invest in a kitchen stool—”
Before you can finish that thought, Frankie is surrounding you. Pulling you flush up against as he leans in close to you. His voice lowers and you can feel his chest rumble with every word, “As I do recall, you are the one constantly raving about some of my other talents.” His free hand travels down your side and coasts over your inner thigh; getting dangerously close to where his words are taking effect.
“I–I believe I recall the same.” You clear your throat, “Though, a reminder wouldn’t hurt”
He couldn’t look more smug even if he wanted to, “Oh I am sure it would not. You watch that tongue of yours and we’ll see if we can make that happen.” With a teasing slap to your ass, he is shooing you out of the kitchen, “I’ll grab everything, go sit.”
Left all hot and flustered, you scurry out of the kitchen to the dining room. You don’t have enough time to fully pull yourself together after that stint of his before Frankie comes tailing in behind you. Looking damn too pleased with himself as he carries over your food and drinks.
You can’t quite meet his eyes initially, desperately trying to reign yourself in. And that cocky son of a bitch next to you knows exactly what he’s done to you, all while appearing totally composed as if nothing happened. But you notice that shift he makes from the corner of your eye, trying his best to disguise his adjusting measures, “So, mi abeja obrera, how was your day?”
After your head is finally clear enough to make complete thoughts, you go on to tell him about your day. More specifically, about your coworker, Mindy, who's been working double time to drive you up the wall. Mindy’s name is not new in this apartment, but her methods of workplace torture seem to become more creative each passing day. Leading to many complaints only Frankie is privy to. Today, she managed to ‘misplace’ your lunch while cleaning out the communal fridge. “And THEN she had the audacity to ask me to pick her up something when I went out for my lunch. I couldn’t believe the nerve of that woman.”
Frankie’s playful demeanor shifts a bit to something a bit more concerned, “Why didn’t you call me? I would have gone out and gotten something for you.”
You grip his hand next to you and give it a reassuring squeeze, “That’s very sweet of you. But I know how busy it is for you at the garage, and I didn’t want to put you out for something as little as lunch.” You offer him a smile, but it does nothing to lighten his mood.
“You couldn’t put me out, mi vida. Garage is busy but I’m never too busy for you.” And for a moment, he just looks at you with the widest pleading eyes that you can’t help but melt under, “Plus, it would give me a chance to finally meet Mindy. I have a feeling a good stare down might help straighten her out.”
“You are right, she’d probably be terrified.” You giggle, “It’s just hard to think—I forget how most people only see the scary ex-Delta pilot.” Frankie smiles and laughs right along with you. “But tell me, osito de peluche, how was your day?”
“Nothing crazy. Just busy, nonstop. From the moment I got there to the moment I left, I was doing something.” Frankie tears his eyes from you to stare down at his now empty plate, “It’s just… working all these hours has just been completely taking it out of me, amor.”
Your heart absolutely plummets at his admission. In the months you each have been working all this overtime, Frankie hasn’t complained even once. Although, anyone could see how taxing these extra hours have been on him. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It absolutely devastates you to watch him come home exhausted to the point where he can barely keep his eyes open. You have tried talking to him about it for weeks now. Lowering his hours, extending your timeline, anything to lighten his load but he would hear none of it.
Frankie prides himself on his work ethic, on his ability to provide and care for those he loves. He wouldn’t dare admit to the strain he has been feeling, too unwilling to burden you with his stresses. So for him to bring it up at all tells you everything you need to know.
“I know it. You have been working so hard for us. I truly can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. It means so much–”
“And I have been happy to work like this, for us. But we are getting pretty close to the goal and I just… I think I need to cut down a bit on the hours. I know it might push us back more–”
“No honey! We–” You try to interject but he calmly raises his hand to stop you.
“But, I would rather push back our timeline a bit so we can spend more time together.” he sighs deeply, “Listen, I promise I will continue to pull my weight. I've just found myself constantly missing you terribly.” He grabs your hands and a small, hopeful smile crosses his face, “We will get there but this way we can be happier along the way.”
And what else can you do when he's looking at you like that? “Okay, hun, that sounds good to me.” You brush your thumbs over his hands before Frankie rises out of his seat. Stacking your dishes in hand and planting a kiss in your hair before making his way to the sink.
You try to follow him back to the kitchen, but he all but shoves you away, telling you to go relax. Realizing this is a battle you are willing to lose, you head over to the couch. Instead, you prepare for his return. Fluffing pillows, tuckering yourself into some throw blankets, and searching for anything worth streaming.
And your man joins you once again bearing gifts. A pint of ice cream and two spoons. You welcome him into the warm cocoon of your blankets which he gratefully accepts. You've got some sitcom on, one you've each seen a million times but it's a comfort show. One that will never grow old.
It’s this time here you’ve missed the most these past few weeks. Just this time with him, not even needing to do anything but soak up every ounce of him. His arm around your shoulder, unconsciously floating across your skin, in your hair. You can listen to the cool, steady pattern of his breathing as it matches your own. Feel how soft and warm he is around you, enveloping you with comfort and security.
Your mind drifts further away from the show ahead of you to focus increasingly more on the man at your side. Like how you can feel every inch of him that’s pressed against you. The alluring scent of his that is so uniquely Frankie. The unspoken power he emanates even in his state of total relaxation, the strength he holds just in his being.
And suddenly you are unable to contain yourself. It starts out innocent enough, snuggling closer into him and delivering a chaste kiss to his cheek before facing right back to the tv. Your hand then sneaks its way over to his thigh. Just resting there, completely harmless… well, until it starts to turn slightly more devious. You start tracing shapes over his skin. Frankie has yet to react while you casually travel up and down his thigh.
It isn’t until you venture your way towards his inner thigh that you notice the disruption in his breathing. Growing more and more labored. Squirming a bit under you, yet not doing a thing to acknowledge your actions.
You squint your eyes, determined in breaking down his resolve. Leaning in close to his ear whispering, “Have I mentioned how nice it is to have you home tonight, osito?” Your hand climbs higher and higher until you reach his clothed cock. His shudders provide all the encouragement you need as you trace the very edge of your finger over the head.
Your other hand joins in as you massage his entire length. Frankie struggles to stifle his groans and whines your ministrations force out of him. His head leans into yours as you pepper kisses along the span of his neck. When you tug at his waistband, he’s immediately stilling you.
He scoots off the couch to grab the remote and shutting off your show. Chucking the contraption out of sight before turning back to you. There is an overwhelming hunger in his eyes as they bore into yours. Not taking his eyes off of you, he frees himself from the blankets to twist off the couch. Falling to his knees in front of you. He runs his large, strong hands up and down your legs causing you to free yourself from the throws as well.
Frankie becomes a man crazed as he takes the opportunity to drag you to the edge of the couch. Practically tearing your pajamas and panties from your body before diving into your dripping cunt waiting for him in no time at all. You choke out a moan as he throws your thighs over his shoulders, locking them in place with his arms. His tongue explores your folds, no crevice left untouched, when he brings two fingers to your entrance. You gasp at the feeling and he begins to pump them in and out while his lips latch onto your clit. Your hands desperately cling to his curls, your life preserver in the sea of pleasure.
All too quickly, the tide of your orgasm washes over you and your vision turns white. Frankie laps at your nectar like a man starved, refusing to move even as you shove him away in overstimulation. If anything, your whines and whimpers only serve to further egg him on as he proceeds with languid kitten licks to your clit and hole as you recover.
Your breathing is heavy as your mind finds its way back to you. Frankie pauses his motions briefly, his voice deep and dripping with desire, “What a surprise, mi reina.”
Your eyes widen at the reminder, “No! – no. We… oh my god… we hit our goal today. I… I spoke to a realtor today to schedule an appointment.”
That seems to stop Frankie in his tracks as he stares up at you, eyes wide, bottom half of his face glistening, and an incorruptible smile spread on his face. “We did it?”
You shake your head, your happy grin matching his, “We did it!”
Frankie then leaps up from his knees and launches himself at you. Lips crashing into one another as your bodies begin to tangle. Your hands fly once again to his head while your nails scrap along his scalp while Frankie runs his hands up and down your torso. He brings your shirt up over your head and starts trailing open-mouthed kisses from your lips down to your chest.
“I told her that we want a porch, maybe a pool–” Your thought is interrupted as you throw your head back as he latches on to nipple. Teasing it between his teeth before soothing his tongue over the bud. “I told her we’d need to talk about it.”
“Whatever you want.” He raises his face so his nose barely brushes against yours, his hands burying themselves under your legs. “As long as we get a king bed.”
Next thing you know, Frankie is hoisting you up in the air, wrapping your legs around his waist. You yelp out his name in surprise, squashing your cry with his lips finding yours. The two of you giggling as he carries you back to the bedroom.
Frankie carefully splays you out on the bed, not yet willing to break from you. However, oxygen can only last for so long until you’re tearing from him to breathe. You take the chance to scoot higher up onto the bed while Frankie aggressively wrangles his clothes from himself.
You watch, completely mesmerized, as more of that intoxicating skin of his reveals itself. His soft tummy crafted from civilian life contrasting the still powerful muscles that still flex with grace after every movement. Such as right now as he is crawling on the bed after you.
Your arms are laid out above you as you stare up at him as he remains on his knees, taking your hips and quickly yanking them to meet his. Frankie dips his head down, his lips press deeply against your own. Your hands soothe along his back as you feel him ease his way between your folds.
Your combined groans and whimpers fill the air. Even with Frankie’s earlier activities, with how long it has been, the stretch is intense but the pain quickly turns to pleasure as you grow accustomed to his size. Once he’s bottomed out, you bring your legs bundle themselves around his waist as his hands make their way to your lower back.
Frankie starts to pant before he finally speaks out, “Are you ready?” You then hum in affirmation, wrapping your hands behind his neck in preparation.
He then starts to rock back and forth, setting a slower pace for your sake initially until you start pleading for more. As the intensity builds, Frankie begins to raise your bottom half, suspending you in the air. You pull yourself up to stay with him, staring into his eyes unable to find words, until he finds your g-spot. Gasping for air as you feel it continuously knocked out of you with every thrust as Frankie focuses his efforts there. Your orgasm gives no warning as it crashes over you.
Your arms lose their strength as you drape down towards the bed, still hanging onto his neck. Frankie grins in victory as you succumb to your high, but he is not all that behind as he reaches his peak only a few beats. Pulling out just in time for his seed to dribble down your stomach and mound.
He collapses down next to you, his legs entangled in yours. You both face each other while you come down from your highs. You gently comb his sweaty curls from his face and lazily brush your nails along his scruff. Frankie hums appreciatively and pulls you in close to his side, fitting you both together like two perfect puzzle pieces. Dipping his head between your breasts and listening to your slowing heartbeat before tracing his fingers along the white puddles left behind down to your core. You hiss when they reach down to your puffy folds, stretching them and petting your walls.
Once he’s gained enough willpower to leave you, he gets up to grab a towel. Tucking your hair behind your ears before wiping you down. When he’s done, he throws it in the hamper and returns to your side.
He’s got a dopey, satisfied look on his face that has you curious, “What are you thinking about, miel?”
His eyes meet yours, “So, do you know if we have any extra money to play with?”
You giggle at the question, a bit puzzled where that’s coming from, “Yea, just a bit. Why?”
Frankie starts settling himself under the sheets with you, spooning you from behind, “I think it might be time for a weekend getaway together.”
Summary: After a grueling day at work, Frankie finds solace in the comforting embrace and joyful presence of his partner at home.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, cumplay, suggestive touching, aftercare, domesticity kink (?), established relationship, lots of nicknames, unhealthy work-life balance, protective tendencies, kissing, affection, flirting/teasing, exhaustion, excitement/celebration, reference to an amazing song,
Immersability: reader is shorter than Frankie, has hair that can be tucked behind their ear, and can be held (don’t worry babe he’s got you).
A/N: This is my submission for @prolix-yuy 's #bangathon2024 event. I got the Placid Embrace and a Mr. Frankie Morales was the first thing that came to my mind. I had so much fun with this piece! Thank you so much LJ for the challenge! Translations are listed at the bottom. I hope you enjoy reading!
The door groans on its hinges as Frankie pushes it shut. The moment it clicks into place, he collapses against it, the cool wood a stark contrast to his heated skin. His backpack thuds to the floor, yet the invisible weight on his shoulders remains, dragging him down with relentless heaviness. It’s been a long day. A long week. Hell, a long few months, and he’s just tired. Working doubles at the garage has been no easy feat, especially with summer in full swing. And it’s not just the sweltering Florida heat. It’s wreck season, which means a never-ending influx of cars, part orders backed up for weeks on end, and the constant stream of frustrated customers cycling in and out of the store.
But this will all be worth it. It’s temporary, and it will be coming to an end here soon. You and Frankie have each been working doubles, putting in a lot of overtime, with the goal of saving for your first house. The apartment you share is nice, convenient, but the two of you have plans. For the future. He thinks back to the ring he has hidden in his sock drawer. It can’t come soon enough.
He feels a buzz from his pocket and slumps further down the door. He doesn’t need to look to know who it is. It’s Friday which means guys’ night and Santi’s texting out details right on schedule. He rubs his aching head. God, if that is not the last thing he wants to do right now. His social battery diminished to nothing in dealing with too many Karen's berating him for every reason imaginable.
No, he can’t handle that right now. Right now he needs a break, he needs to unwind every ounce of stress he has piled on, he needs–
“Let’s Groove Tonight!
Share the spice of life
Baby slice it right
We’re gonna groove tonight!”
He can’t suppress his growing smile as he finally releases his bag and toes off his shoes. The scent of simmering garlic and butter wafts from the kitchen, where he finds you bouncing around to the song in your t-shirt and pajama pants. Frankie leans up against the doorway as you give the performance of a lifetime. Earth, Wind, & Fire have nothing on you the way you cut up the imaginary dancefloor, pouring your heart into every lyric with them. A view he’s been missing for too long. You stop every few seconds or so as you also happen to be making dinner.
“Let this groove, get you to move
It’s alright, alright, alright
Let this groove, set in your shoes
So stand up, alright, alright
Oh! Frankie!”
You turn around to find your man smiling back at you with that adorably tired, happy grin plastered on his face. You lower the volume, your footsteps soft on the kitchen tiles as you cross over to him. Quickly pecking him on the lips before going back to the saucepan on the stove and gesturing for him to follow. He does so, wrapping himself behind you as you raise your wooden cooking spoon to his lips.
“It’s alfredo sauce, what do you think?” You tilt your head, a slight smirk on your lips.
“Mmm, it’s perfect, abejita.” Your eyes remain connected until he starts kissing up your neck, his hands tracing up and down your hips as a low moan slowly escapes you.
“Needs some more parmesan, I think.” He hums, but he’s not really listening to your words as he nuzzles his head to rest over your shoulder.
Frankie drifts off into his own world, the warmth of your body and the gentle rhythm of your dancing consuming him whole. He mindlessly flows along with you as you continue to bounce along to the song. You don’t seem to mind him crowding which is good because he doesn’t think he could try to tear himself from you even if he wanted to. Molding your bodies together into one.
A slower song replaces the last, one much better suited for his current mindset and he begins to sway with you in his arms. His eyelids grow heavy, each blink lingering as he soaks in the sight of you, the soft glow of the kitchen light casting a halo around your figure. Only to be disturbed by the soothing addition of your fingers coasting through the waves of his hair that peek out from beneath his cap. Frankie frees his messy curls in favor of allowing you the room to roam. Your calm ruffling continues to lull him and he can feel himself get lighter around you.
It’s peace. This, right here. There isn’t a worry in the world that could touch him right now. You are everything he could possibly need and he would do anything for you. But in this moment? You two are the only things that exist.
You turn your head, speaking softly into his temple, “Is today your Friday?” Other than Benny’s fight nights, the Delta guys rotate whose place they go to hang out after the bar and you’ve been so good and accommodating for him every time he asks.
Frankie laughs tiredly as he buries himself further into the soft t-shirt covering your shoulder, “To be honest, I don’t know.”
You bring your hand down the side of his cheek, pawing at the scruff there, “Well, if it is, can you start picking up around here? I’m almost done with this.”
“I’m not going tonight, cariño.” he says, giving you those sad puppy dog eyes that he knows are absolutely irresistible to you.
“Oh, honey.” You set down your spoon, cup his face with both hands, and move your body slightly so you’re looking right into his tired eyes. “Hey, is everything ok? It’s been a busy week, usually you’re itching to relax with the boys.”
Frankie shakes his head and takes your hands from his face. The work-worn rough feel to his hands directly opposes the softness of your own, “I’m fine, querida, just exhausted. I just need you tonight. Only you can bring me back to life.” He bundles you up tighter in his embrace, resting his lips against your temple now.
A genuine smile warms your face as you turn back to the boiling pasta, “Well that’s awfully poetic of you.”
“What can I say, hmm? You bring out the best in me.” You can feel his cheesy smirk bloom against your head.
You roll your eyes at him and playfully slap one of the arms around you. “Okay then, Morales, you’re stuck with me then tonight. I’m not kidding about dinner, though. If you don’t want it to be cold by the time you’re done freshening up, I’d suggest you get a move on.”
But Frankie is feeling a bit cheeky as he travels down to your ear, “But I think I’d rather wait for you to join me.” His hand travels up your spine, sending shivers racing through you like lightning.
You’re not falling for it though. You keep staring down at the stove as you reply, “That’s fine, but then I can’t tell you the surprise.”
Frankie immediately perks up, “A surprise? What are we talking about here?”
You mockingly gasp, clutching your chest aghast, “You want ME to spoil the surprise for YOU?” You click your tongue in fake admonishment, swinging the spoon up at him, “I would never do such a thing! The choice is yours, bear.”
“Alright, you have me there. I’ll be right back.” He offers a quick kiss before going off to grab his things and heading to the bedroom.
A buzz, another buzz, one more, and he decides not to push it off any further. It’s Darts at Shandy’s tonight, his usual favorite. But, in his mind, there really is no competition. Sure, the guys will give him hell, maybe he’ll have to buy the first few rounds, but he’d gladly take that if that means he gets to be with you. He texts back some lame excuse and sets his phone on do not disturb. Nothing is more important than spending time with the woman he loves.
After washing the grime and stress of the day off of him, he spots a fresh set of pajamas lying on the bed that has your name written all over it. Freshly toweled off, Frankie comes out to meet you with a newfound energy. You are still humming along to your music, a little sway in your step.
He spies the back of your shirt rising just the slightest bit as you struggle to grab for the plates right out of your reach. Frankie sneaks up behind you and wraps a hand in the sliver of skin available on your hip as he easily grabs them.
He winks as he hands them off to you, “Where would you be without me, mi amor?” His teasing tone matches the smirk on your lips.
“I’d have shorter shelves, I’ll tell you that.” You bump your hip into his playfully causing him to dramatically stumble away into the counter too far behind him.
He clutches his heart, “Oh how you wound me. I have to contribute something to this relationship. Who am I if not your professional plate fetcher?”
“Well, if that’s all you’re good for, it’s so much less work to invest in a kitchen stool—”
Before you can finish that thought, Frankie is surrounding you. Pulling you flush up against as he leans in close to you. His voice lowers and you can feel his chest rumble with every word, “As I do recall, you are the one constantly raving about some of my other talents.” His free hand travels down your side and coasts over your inner thigh; getting dangerously close to where his words are taking effect.
“I–I believe I recall the same.” You clear your throat, “Though, a reminder wouldn’t hurt”
He couldn’t look more smug even if he wanted to, “Oh I am sure it would not. You watch that tongue of yours and we’ll see if we can make that happen.” With a teasing slap to your ass, he is shooing you out of the kitchen, “I’ll grab everything, go sit.”
Left all hot and flustered, you scurry out of the kitchen to the dining room. You don’t have enough time to fully pull yourself together after that stint of his before Frankie comes tailing in behind you. Looking damn too pleased with himself as he carries over your food and drinks.
You can’t quite meet his eyes initially, desperately trying to reign yourself in. And that cocky son of a bitch next to you knows exactly what he’s done to you, all while appearing totally composed as if nothing happened. But you notice that shift he makes from the corner of your eye, trying his best to disguise his adjusting measures, “So, mi abeja obrera, how was your day?”
After your head is finally clear enough to make complete thoughts, you go on to tell him about your day. More specifically, about your coworker, Mindy, who's been working double time to drive you up the wall. Mindy’s name is not new in this apartment, but her methods of workplace torture seem to become more creative each passing day. Leading to many complaints only Frankie is privy to. Today, she managed to ‘misplace’ your lunch while cleaning out the communal fridge. “And THEN she had the audacity to ask me to pick her up something when I went out for my lunch. I couldn’t believe the nerve of that woman.”
Frankie’s playful demeanor shifts a bit to something a bit more concerned, “Why didn’t you call me? I would have gone out and gotten something for you.”
You grip his hand next to you and give it a reassuring squeeze, “That’s very sweet of you. But I know how busy it is for you at the garage, and I didn’t want to put you out for something as little as lunch.” You offer him a smile, but it does nothing to lighten his mood.
“You couldn’t put me out, mi vida. Garage is busy but I’m never too busy for you.” And for a moment, he just looks at you with the widest pleading eyes that you can’t help but melt under, “Plus, it would give me a chance to finally meet Mindy. I have a feeling a good stare down might help straighten her out.”
“You are right, she’d probably be terrified.” You giggle, “It’s just hard to think—I forget how most people only see the scary ex-Delta pilot.” Frankie smiles and laughs right along with you. “But tell me, osito de peluche, how was your day?”
“Nothing crazy. Just busy, nonstop. From the moment I got there to the moment I left, I was doing something.” Frankie tears his eyes from you to stare down at his now empty plate, “It’s just… working all these hours has just been completely taking it out of me, amor.”
Your heart absolutely plummets at his admission. In the months you each have been working all this overtime, Frankie hasn’t complained even once. Although, anyone could see how taxing these extra hours have been on him. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It absolutely devastates you to watch him come home exhausted to the point where he can barely keep his eyes open. You have tried talking to him about it for weeks now. Lowering his hours, extending your timeline, anything to lighten his load but he would hear none of it.
Frankie prides himself on his work ethic, on his ability to provide and care for those he loves. He wouldn’t dare admit to the strain he has been feeling, too unwilling to burden you with his stresses. So for him to bring it up at all tells you everything you need to know.
“I know it. You have been working so hard for us. I truly can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. It means so much–”
“And I have been happy to work like this, for us. But we are getting pretty close to the goal and I just… I think I need to cut down a bit on the hours. I know it might push us back more–”
“No honey! We–” You try to interject but he calmly raises his hand to stop you.
“But, I would rather push back our timeline a bit so we can spend more time together.” he sighs deeply, “Listen, I promise I will continue to pull my weight. I've just found myself constantly missing you terribly.” He grabs your hands and a small, hopeful smile crosses his face, “We will get there but this way we can be happier along the way.”
And what else can you do when he's looking at you like that? “Okay, hun, that sounds good to me.” You brush your thumbs over his hands before Frankie rises out of his seat. Stacking your dishes in hand and planting a kiss in your hair before making his way to the sink.
You try to follow him back to the kitchen, but he all but shoves you away, telling you to go relax. Realizing this is a battle you are willing to lose, you head over to the couch. Instead, you prepare for his return. Fluffing pillows, tuckering yourself into some throw blankets, and searching for anything worth streaming.
And your man joins you once again bearing gifts. A pint of ice cream and two spoons. You welcome him into the warm cocoon of your blankets which he gratefully accepts. You've got some sitcom on, one you've each seen a million times but it's a comfort show. One that will never grow old.
It’s this time here you’ve missed the most these past few weeks. Just this time with him, not even needing to do anything but soak up every ounce of him. His arm around your shoulder, unconsciously floating across your skin, in your hair. You can listen to the cool, steady pattern of his breathing as it matches your own. Feel how soft and warm he is around you, enveloping you with comfort and security.
Your mind drifts further away from the show ahead of you to focus increasingly more on the man at your side. Like how you can feel every inch of him that’s pressed against you. The alluring scent of his that is so uniquely Frankie. The unspoken power he emanates even in his state of total relaxation, the strength he holds just in his being.
And suddenly you are unable to contain yourself. It starts out innocent enough, snuggling closer into him and delivering a chaste kiss to his cheek before facing right back to the tv. Your hand then sneaks its way over to his thigh. Just resting there, completely harmless… well, until it starts to turn slightly more devious. You start tracing shapes over his skin. Frankie has yet to react while you casually travel up and down his thigh.
It isn’t until you venture your way towards his inner thigh that you notice the disruption in his breathing. Growing more and more labored. Squirming a bit under you, yet not doing a thing to acknowledge your actions.
You squint your eyes, determined in breaking down his resolve. Leaning in close to his ear whispering, “Have I mentioned how nice it is to have you home tonight, osito?” Your hand climbs higher and higher until you reach his clothed cock. His shudders provide all the encouragement you need as you trace the very edge of your finger over the head.
Your other hand joins in as you massage his entire length. Frankie struggles to stifle his groans and whines your ministrations force out of him. His head leans into yours as you pepper kisses along the span of his neck. When you tug at his waistband, he’s immediately stilling you.
He scoots off the couch to grab the remote and shutting off your show. Chucking the contraption out of sight before turning back to you. There is an overwhelming hunger in his eyes as they bore into yours. Not taking his eyes off of you, he frees himself from the blankets to twist off the couch. Falling to his knees in front of you. He runs his large, strong hands up and down your legs causing you to free yourself from the throws as well.
Frankie becomes a man crazed as he takes the opportunity to drag you to the edge of the couch. Practically tearing your pajamas and panties from your body before diving into your dripping cunt waiting for him in no time at all. You choke out a moan as he throws your thighs over his shoulders, locking them in place with his arms. His tongue explores your folds, no crevice left untouched, when he brings two fingers to your entrance. You gasp at the feeling and he begins to pump them in and out while his lips latch onto your clit. Your hands desperately cling to his curls, your life preserver in the sea of pleasure.
All too quickly, the tide of your orgasm washes over you and your vision turns white. Frankie laps at your nectar like a man starved, refusing to move even as you shove him away in overstimulation. If anything, your whines and whimpers only serve to further egg him on as he proceeds with languid kitten licks to your clit and hole as you recover.
Your breathing is heavy as your mind finds its way back to you. Frankie pauses his motions briefly, his voice deep and dripping with desire, “What a surprise, mi reina.”
Your eyes widen at the reminder, “No! – no. We… oh my god… we hit our goal today. I… I spoke to a realtor today to schedule an appointment.”
That seems to stop Frankie in his tracks as he stares up at you, eyes wide, bottom half of his face glistening, and an incorruptible smile spread on his face. “We did it?”
You shake your head, your happy grin matching his, “We did it!”
Frankie then leaps up from his knees and launches himself at you. Lips crashing into one another as your bodies begin to tangle. Your hands fly once again to his head while your nails scrap along his scalp while Frankie runs his hands up and down your torso. He brings your shirt up over your head and starts trailing open-mouthed kisses from your lips down to your chest.
“I told her that we want a porch, maybe a pool–” Your thought is interrupted as you throw your head back as he latches on to nipple. Teasing it between his teeth before soothing his tongue over the bud. “I told her we’d need to talk about it.”
“Whatever you want.” He raises his face so his nose barely brushes against yours, his hands burying themselves under your legs. “As long as we get a king bed.”
Next thing you know, Frankie is hoisting you up in the air, wrapping your legs around his waist. You yelp out his name in surprise, squashing your cry with his lips finding yours. The two of you giggling as he carries you back to the bedroom.
Frankie carefully splays you out on the bed, not yet willing to break from you. However, oxygen can only last for so long until you’re tearing from him to breathe. You take the chance to scoot higher up onto the bed while Frankie aggressively wrangles his clothes from himself.
You watch, completely mesmerized, as more of that intoxicating skin of his reveals itself. His soft tummy crafted from civilian life contrasting the still powerful muscles that still flex with grace after every movement. Such as right now as he is crawling on the bed after you.
Your arms are laid out above you as you stare up at him as he remains on his knees, taking your hips and quickly yanking them to meet his. Frankie dips his head down, his lips press deeply against your own. Your hands soothe along his back as you feel him ease his way between your folds.
Your combined groans and whimpers fill the air. Even with Frankie’s earlier activities, with how long it has been, the stretch is intense but the pain quickly turns to pleasure as you grow accustomed to his size. Once he’s bottomed out, you bring your legs bundle themselves around his waist as his hands make their way to your lower back.
Frankie starts to pant before he finally speaks out, “Are you ready?” You then hum in affirmation, wrapping your hands behind his neck in preparation.
He then starts to rock back and forth, setting a slower pace for your sake initially until you start pleading for more. As the intensity builds, Frankie begins to raise your bottom half, suspending you in the air. You pull yourself up to stay with him, staring into his eyes unable to find words, until he finds your g-spot. Gasping for air as you feel it continuously knocked out of you with every thrust as Frankie focuses his efforts there. Your orgasm gives no warning as it crashes over you.
Your arms lose their strength as you drape down towards the bed, still hanging onto his neck. Frankie grins in victory as you succumb to your high, but he is not all that behind as he reaches his peak only a few beats. Pulling out just in time for his seed to dribble down your stomach and mound.
He collapses down next to you, his legs entangled in yours. You both face each other while you come down from your highs. You gently comb his sweaty curls from his face and lazily brush your nails along his scruff. Frankie hums appreciatively and pulls you in close to his side, fitting you both together like two perfect puzzle pieces. Dipping his head between your breasts and listening to your slowing heartbeat before tracing his fingers along the white puddles left behind down to your core. You hiss when they reach down to your puffy folds, stretching them and petting your walls.
Once he’s gained enough willpower to leave you, he gets up to grab a towel. Tucking your hair behind your ears before wiping you down. When he’s done, he throws it in the hamper and returns to your side.
He’s got a dopey, satisfied look on his face that has you curious, “What are you thinking about, miel?”
His eyes meet yours, “So, do you know if we have any extra money to play with?”
You giggle at the question, a bit puzzled where that’s coming from, “Yea, just a bit. Why?”
Frankie starts settling himself under the sheets with you, spooning you from behind, “I think it might be time for a weekend getaway together.”
Welcome one and all to the (apparently annual?) Bangathon! Last year I did all the writing, so this year the Bangathon is open to all to participate and have a sexy fun time!
Rules!
Spin the Wheel!
Click this link to be taken to the wheel.
Get the Details!
Click this link to be taken to a guide for all the positions included on the wheel.
Pick a Pedro Boy!
Choose a Pedro boy to write in this position.
Write!
Write your story! It can be a drabble, a ficlet, something beefy or lean. Whatever strikes your fancy!
Post!
The Bangathon is a state of mind and can occur at any time, but for the sake of this challenge I will be reblogging fics until July 19th. Please use the tag #bangathon2024 even if you miss the reblogging dates so I can still link and see your stories!
…Win?!
As a treat for participating, a writer whose fic posts by July 19th will be randomly selected to receive their own Bangathon gift fic! I will write a minimum 1500 word fic with the position and Pedro of their choice as a thank you for playing, which will post on July 26th.
Check out the Bangathon site!
Happy banging!
Disclaimers below the cut:
Please tag with appropriate warnings and pairings, and to avoid getting your fic flagged do not include any of the images from the positions pages in your posts (trust me, I learned the hard way last Bangathon). The websites are meant to circumvent Tumblr’s porny issues, so you can always direct readers there for more info!
Pages on the linked site will display NSFW images as they relate to the sexual position described. Please be mindful of where you view these links.
The position names, descriptions and images are taken from a very dated Kama Sutra book that, while incredibly entertaining, was primarily depicting heterosexual relationships with little to no diversity. I’ve removed the original text and revised it to more inclusive language, but kept the images to help visualize the positions. Write whatever the heck you want with whoever you want!
5153 words | Joel Miller x Single Mom!Reader (no y/n)
Summary: You are a single mother taking your young son west in the post-outbreak world. The two of you encounter Joel and Ellie after the fiasco that was Kansas City with the common goal of heading west.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni; this chapter is sfw, but later chapters will not be some please be aware. Reader’s age is unspecified but she has a 5-year-old son. Threatening with/usage of guns and knives, Joel is a dangerous kind of guy, vague references to post-outbreak dangers/realities, anxiety/paranoia, arguing, tension, some angst, a cringey joke.
A/N: Woohoo! First chapter down! Lots of love and tears went into this one so I hope you all enjoy!
“WOOSHHH” The boy rushes past you, waving his mossy rock in the air–a new character he found along the stream where you both are for the moment.
At just under seven years old, Junior’s imagination knows no bounds, his own little world bursting with life and thrill that can captivate him for hours. Action heroes, epic battles, gut-wrenching drama, and adorable love stories. Your heart still warms at the sight of the genuine wonder he can experience in a world filled with chaos.
“Mama, look!” Your son hops across the different boulders while you sit and clean your hand shears and tools in the water. Once he completes his daring feat, he bows for you and you enthusiastically clap and whistle your praises.
“That was excellent Junior! A true stuntman!” you cheer, clapping and whistling, your heart swelling with pride at his boundless energy. He giggles and goes back to flying his rock around. Not that you mind much as you dry and pack up your backpack to prepare for the trek ahead.
The two of you haven’t been out hiking for very long, a few days, at most, but you finally feel comfortably away from the danger that lives in the place you used to call home. But this isn’t your first time traveling the wilderness since the outbreak, you know what kinds of horrors exist out here in the open. This is, however, your first time taking your young son along with you.
In the distance, faint voices echo through the trees, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. You strain to listen, your heart pounding in your chest, but Junior’s sudden cry of pain jolts you out of your focus.
You make your way over to him, shushing the boy and whispering, “It’s going to be ok, but I need you to be a big boy for a few minutes. There are some people coming and we gotta be very quiet and then I can clean you up. Can you do that for me?” Junior nods and sniffles at you while he holds his hurt elbow.
Now you can hear at least two voices and they are becoming louder and louder. Still indistinguishable, but you are pretty certain it's a man and a woman talking.
Without a second to lose, you stealthily pick up Junior and swiftly hide him behind a wider tree. You crouch down to your knees to look right in his eyes, “Junior, I know it’s hurting bud, but I need you to stay quiet and super still. Just until they leave, ok?” He nods again, “I’ll be right over there, don’t move until I say so.”
“Ok Mama.” You quickly kiss him on the forehead before you situate yourself a few trees behind Junior’s off to the side.
Your heart is battering like crazy in your chest as you try to school your breathing and get your focus in check. Hands shaking as you urgently rifle through your backpack. This isn’t your bag, but you know they’re here. Finally, you find them, a handgun and a hunting knife, both inconveniently fallen at the very bottom of the bag.
You slip your knife in your shoe and the gun makes its way back home in your hand. It’s been a long time since you did this last. A quick peek at Junior who stares at you terrified and all you can do is plaster on a fake smile for him and mouth the words “It will be fine”.
The mysterious figures are finally close enough for you to hear them. Slowly, you peek your head out to get a visual of the two. It’s a man and a teenage girl chatting. They seem relatively harmless until you clock the shotgun on the man’s back.
You listen closely, but are shocked when you hear the conversation. “If you dress like a cowboy, are you ranch dressing?” Followed by her snickers and the man’s exaggerated groan. God, you haven’t heard stupid jokes like that in a long time, the familiar pun pulling at your heartstrings just a little.
They pass by without an issue. You give Junior an encouraging nod and thumbs up. The two of you might get out of this no problem.
That is, until little Junior sneezes.
The unknown pair whip around to face your part of the woods. You watch in horror as they each bring out a handgun and aim them right toward your area. The teen points right near Junior’s tree, whispering something to the man and you hide back behind the tree again. You hear his deep voice rumble through the air as he moves himself in front of her, “Stay right there.”
Holding your breath, you listen to the crunch of leaves under heavy boots, each step amplifying the hammering of your heart.You quickly glance over at Junior who is still staring at you. Those expressive eyes of his reflect every ounce of fear you are currently feeling yourself. With a desperate gesture, you urgently motion for him to duck as your brain short circuits trying to come up with a plan. Your fingers grip the gun so tightly that your knuckles turn white.
You know you aren’t getting out of this alive, but you’ll be damned if Junior doesn’t.
The man is only a few feet away from Junior when you slowly step out from behind the tree, hands raised in surrender, gun aimed at the sky. With your free hand, you slowly lower your backpack to the ground.
The man immediately turns to face you and aims the gun right in the center of your chest. His voice booms in your face as he stares you down. His eyes are so dark and intense you can almost see the image of your demise looking right back at you. “DROP YOUR WEAPONS! GET ON THE GROUND!”
You comply in an instant, falling to your knees as the gun slips from your fingers. Not daring to look up at his oppressive, looming figure as he stomps over to you. The barrel of his handgun jolts your chin up to meet his piercing gaze. You are frozen, trapped in a state of shock as he searches around the area.
“Where are the rest of them?” His voice, calm and deadly, sends chills down your spine.
“Please!” You stammer, “I don’t want anything with you! I’m just passing through!” He is clearly not pleased with that answer and you can’t shrink any further beneath him.
“Uh-huh” He gives you a once over look before he’s aggressively manhandling you onto your feet, wrestling you into an unshakable headlock. You try to jostle and wriggle yourself free to no avail until you feel his gun press right against your temple.
He whispers in your ear, “Pretty thing like you out here by yourself? Unlikely.” Throwing you around in his hold in a 360-degree turn while you unsuccessfully claw at his thick forearm, gasping for air.
“There is no one–”
“MAMA!”
All the fight in you freezes at the yelp of your son revealing himself from his hiding spot only steps from you. Your captor instantly aims the weapon at Junior, but wavers while he takes the boy in.
Not that you give him much time to think about it. With adrenaline pumping through your veins like fire, you are able to take action. Freeing yourself from his hold, ducking to grab the knife from your boot, and holding it at his throat. In the same motion, you grab the barrel of the man’s gun and aim it right back at yourself. “Hey! You’re talking to me.”
You swear you give the man whiplash before he can fully comprehend what just happened. You hear his whisper in surprise “What the–”
The girl runs over, calling after him, but he warns her to stay back. Her gun is now aimed at you while Junior runs up behind you. He tightly hugs you from behind and shoves his head into your side.
With a knife at his neck and you, yourself still being held at gunpoint, it’s anyone’s move. Your eyes bore into one another for another minute before you finally speak up, “Like I said, I don’t want anything from you. No trap, no nothing. We can all pretend this never happened.”
After another moment stuck in this stand still, the teen speaks up, “Hey, I think it’s just the two of them.” Her words hang in the air as you watch her lower her weapon. His eyes, however, never leave you, not even for a second as he considers her words. His face is a mask of hardened determination, but his gaze gives him away.
“Fine.” He drops his gun and you follow suit. Plunging the knife back in its spot in your shoe before petting Junior’s head as he continues to cower behind you.
Everyone remains silent but refuses to turn their back on the other. You back up to grab your backpack and gun and secure them before Junior grabs your attention again, pointing to his aching elbow.
“Ok buddy, I’ll do it right now.” You can feel the strangers’ eyes boring into you as you grab some strips of towels, a water bottle, and two jars from your bag. A salve you made before you left and some fruit you found just earlier today. Junior starts to snack on the treat while you go about cleaning and applying the cream before tying it off with the piece of towel.
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the girl’s expression go from skeptical to curious. Meanwhile, the man just scoffs at you and deigns to look down upon you and Junior. Muttering under his breath but well within earshot, “It’s damn ridiculous to bring a kid that young out here.”
At that exact moment, all you can see is red. Getting back onto your feet, you march over to him. Pressing a firm finger into his unmoving chest, a twisted snarl on your face. “Did I ask you, guy? I could say the same damn thing about you and your daughter.”
“Not my daughter.”
“Not my dad.”
You roll your eyes at their reactions, “Whatever. But I am not making assumptions about you, I would appreciate the same.”
His abrasive demeanor does not falter in the slightest, crossing his arms as he regards your statement. “It ain’t an assumption. Just you and a small boy like that? It’s a suicide mission for the both of you.”
You stare daggers into him for a moment. Your mocking tone blatant in your attitude, “Happy? Needed to get that off your chest?” He doesn’t react at all. “Good, now the air is finally clear.” You look back at Junior, hand on your hip. “Junior, let’s go.”
Junior disjointedly helps you pack the bag when you hear the man’s deep voice again, “Kid makes you vulnerable. People out here don’t live by rules or conscience. Wherever you were probably safer than anywhere you can go. It’s clear you haven’t been out here long. Best for the both of you.”
You look back at him, his brows furrowed and an oddly concerned look on his face. He looks down at Junior and you can see his eyes soften if only for a moment before looking back at you. Only his gaze speaks while the rest of him remains stoic. His eyes a wordless pleading as a warning for the horrors he knows is out here. And you’re sure it's not just infected.
The truth is, you know there really is merit to what he says. Although this is your first hiccup since being out here, you know it won’t be the last. It’s several weeks to Denver if you’re lucky.
You shake your head while you zip up the backpack. “Unfortunately, not an option. Our only chance is the Denver QZ.”
The girl chimes in, “Denver? Well, I mean we are heading that way anyway, so…” Her head tilted in mischief as she looks over at the man.
“Ellie. No, absolutely not.”
She looks back at you, “Excuse us for a moment. Joel!” before yanking him to the side. “Gotta have a quick strategy meeting with Mr. Sunshine over here,” she quips. You hear them whispering but pay it no mind as you get the backpack on.
Junior tugs at your pant leg, “Mama, what is a coo z?”
You kneel down in front of him, smiling while you dust him down and straighten his clothes. “That’s where we are heading, buddy. Remember how I told you about the big neighborhood in that new place, Denver?” He nods in understanding. “QZ is the name of that type of neighborhood.”
“Oh ok!” His bright smile then falls, nerves overwhelm his features before continuing on, “And… is Daddy going to be there?”
Your heart nearly breaks at the question, but quickly plaster on a smile for his sake “No honey, Daddy won’t be there. He needed to stay back to keep looking out for the neighborhood. But that’s ok! We’re on our way to go find our new home.” Your thumb reaches up to graze over his cheek in reassurance.
“Ok Mama.” Junior looks at you with that adorable dimpled smile that reminds you so much of his father. Bile creeps up your throat at the thought before you shake your head from the memory.
Ellie coughs for your attention and you turn their way. She’s got the widest smirk on her face while Joel grumpily looks off to the side, refusing to meet your eyes. “That jar you have. The one you used on his arm.” You look at her apprehensively but nod, “Did you make that?”
“Yeah, it’s just something for small cuts. It’s anti-bacterial.” Joel grumbles a few feet away but you elect to ignore him.
“Do you know how to make anything else?” She asks seemingly with genuine curiosity.
“Some things. Simple salves or balms depending on what is available in the area.”
“And the fruit?”
“Yes, I picked them myself. I have a knack for looking for wild fruits and vegetables.”
Joel retorts with a roll of his eyes, “Oh really? How’s that?”
“I used to be a botanist.” That shuts him right up and you can’t help but softly smile at the victory. “I studied plant identification. I have been a forager long before the outbreak.”
Ellie looks down at Junior, “Hey kid, your mom teaching you how to become a plant whisperer too?” Junior giggles and ducks his head in your side. You can’t help but smile at the teen’s jest. She turns to look at Joel, “I told you! She can be helpful!”
“Yes but more mouths and more people to worry about. You alone are more than enough as it is.”
“Ha ha but seriously, it’s really more food and it’s another gun! They are heading that way anyway!”
He sighs but he can tell he’s lost this battle, “Go ahead.”
Ellie then smiles and turns to you and Junior, “Joel and I are on our way to find his brother over near Wyoming. If you would like, you both can join us.”
What? Are they actually insane? That man just had you staring down death itself. You only got a hint of what he’s capable of. There is no way in hell that you could ever trust that man with your own life, let alone Junior’s.
Your hesitation must be apparent as she continues on, “There is definitely safety in numbers. We could use your nature knowledge and you could use some more protection. Everyone wins! Plus, it’d be nice to have someone else to talk to besides this old man here.”
You shake your head at the pair, “After being held at gunpoint only a few minutes ago, kind of puts you off on the wrong foot.”
Joel huffs and Ellie elbows his side, “If you had gone through the amount shit we have, you would have done the same.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
“And, to be fair, he’s a lot less scary if he’s on your side.” He grunts in admonishment but doesn’t care to correct her.
Looking down at Junior, you reconcile with yourself. Even though the two of you have gotten by just fine, there is no doubt you would fare better with their company. If they wanted you dead, that would have happened already. You would do anything to keep your son safe. Anything.
Your thoughts are interrupted by Joel’s annoyed tone, “We don’t got all day, Ellie.”
She turns back at him incredulously, “Wait a second, she needs to think–”
“I ain’t gonna beg them to come. She’ll do what she wants.” He pulls his bag over his shoulder before turning and starting to walk, leaving the rest of you behind.
In a split second decision, you blurt out your answer, “We’re coming.” Ellie’s face breaks out into a huge smile while Joel stops in his tracks. With an exasperated sigh, he turns around as Ellie walks up to join him.
“Couple rules. One, what I say goes. End of discussion. Second, no slowing us down. Three, Ellie is my priority over either of you.” You nod and hold onto Junior’s hand to catch up with them. He faces forward once again and curtly adds a final note, “We’ll stick together ‘til Colorado, then you’re on your own.”
The rest of the day goes by with no complaints from you. It’s clear there is a strong divide between the two factions. Distrust and suspicion hangs in the air the whole walk. Junior is nearly taped to your side. Asking you questions about nature, sharing details of his most recent story developments, and playing rounds of I-Spy with you. Just up ahead, Joel and Ellie are pretty wrapped up in their own discussions mostly consisting of humorous jabs from Ellie that just seem to roll off his back like nothing.
As the sun begins to set, Joel calls it quits for everyone. On your half, you know for a fact both you and Junior are done for the day.
Junior’s feet began hurting about an hour ago, which was normally not an issue for the two of you to take a short break before getting back to the walk. However, you were not willing to break one of the new “rules” if you had any say about it, especially on day one. So, Junior has been on your shoulders since, wearing you down more and more. Ellie would offer you empathetic looks every now and then when she noticed you drifting further and further away from them, but you wouldn’t give up. So when Joel calls it quits for the day, you nearly collapse at the idea.
After finding a good enough spot, you watch as Joel and Ellie settle into their routine and you delve right into yours. Things are definitely disjointed at first, the two groups operating like two adjacent camps instead of one. You can only hope that will fade in time. In all reality, you almost envy how efficient the two are. With you getting two people settled at once, your already underdeveloped routine takes nearly twice as long. By the time you get done, your new partners have been ready for ages and Joel and Ellie have already gone out looking for food. It’s a bit of a slap to the face and very discouraging but you try to reconcile with yourself that this takes some time.
But, now you have to go get yourself and Junior something before it gets too dark. Your exhausted body fights you as you try to work yourself up to go out and forage, your muscles tired already as you go to fetch your hunting knife and shears. As much as you hate to admit it to yourself, braving this world alone is a lot less manageable than you remember. Now given, it is a little different with a young boy to care for as well, but you can also feel your years catching up with you.
Just as you are about to head out, they come back. Hunted game held at Joel’s side. And god, does that beat you down further. Sulking into yourself further calling Junior to come with you but Joel stops you.
“I got two.” He says. Holding up the two rabbits in hand then looks between you and your son.
Your first instinct is apprehension. You aren’t quite ready to trust this man. Joel doesn’t seem like the type to share a gesture of good will out of the pureness of his heart. Is this a trap? There is no telling how twisted and cruel he is.
However, by your side, Junior’s stomach starts to grumble loudly and Joel gives you a knowing look. He may be a dangerous man, but he’s caring for a kid out here too. If anyone is going to know where you are at right now, it’s him. With a deep breath, you respond, “Thank you Joel.”
He nods and jumps head first into the next task of preparing it. Guilt begins to set in and your hands itch to be used. You find some good skewer-sized sticks and make your way over to him where he is getting prepared to start a fire. You clear your throat, “I can help dress them if you need a hand.”
Joel turns around and eyes you up and down, “Sure.” He points down to where the two rabbits sit ready to go. The two of you work in silence. It’s a little awkward at first, working side-by-side. There are clear signs of wariness between each of you and neither of you look to address it. That is until you decide to break the ice, “This is the cleanest hunting job I’ve seen. Did you hunt before?”
“No.” He doesn’t tear his eyes from the flickering fire.
“Oh, ok.” You can see him look at you from the corner of his eye.
“Just had a lot of practice.” Wiping off his hands before using your sticks to skewer them up and set them over the fire. And then silence overtakes you both once again.
It’s the silence that is killing you. When you sneak glances in his direction, you can see the wheels turning in his head. Whatever is possibly going on up there can’t lead to anything good for you.
Your train of thought is pulled to an abrupt noise on the other side of the fire. Laughter.
You look over to see Ellie and Junior getting to know each other, hearing their giggles and watching them smile and joke. This is good. Junior’s never had the best opportunity to make friends and you are grateful the teen has the heart to be so welcoming of the young boy.
Once Joel is satisfied with his work, dinner is served. The four of you each sit with your original counterpart around the fire. You focus your attentions on ensuring Junior is ok and eating. Junior goes on to jovially fill you in on his conversations with Ellie.
And while you are amused by your son’s ramblings, you keep getting distracted with the feeling of eyes on you. Every so often, you’ll look up to see Joel’s deep brown eyes already focused in on yours. It makes you shudder and stir, feeling like you are pinned under his stare. Initially, he’ll correct himself, going back to Ellie as she rambles to him but he keeps getting bolder and bolder. Almost like he’s taunting you.
Feeling uneasy is a bit of an understatement. Fear, paranoia, anxiety all pull at your nerves and your heart begins to beat faster. Perhaps you are misreading the look, but you can feel in your bones that there is a clear danger coming your way.
Your thoughts are halted by Ellie’s voice, “So, Where are you guys coming from?”
The question has you nearly choking on your food, but that does nothing to dampen her curiosity.
“We came from a small community north of Kansas City.”
“Why did you guys leave?”
At this point, you are starting to squirm a little bit in your seat, unsure how you want to answer that without traumatizing Junior, or yourself.
“Um… well, it’s complicated. To make a long story short, I didn’t feel the community we were in was safe for either of us, so I made the decision to get us out of there.
“So, why the fuck do you want to go to the Denver QZ?”
“Ellie! Watch your mouth.” Joel chastises, his eyes no longer boring into yours.
“Ok, sorry. But I’m lost, they got some special kind of FEDRA over there or something? Because QZ’s aren’t specifically known for their safety–”
“Ellie, that's none of your business–” Joel’s face a persistent warning as he cautiously glances your way for the first time.
“What I am just asking! If she doesn't want to say anything she doesn't have to.” Ellie shakes her head exhaustively at him before turning her attention back to you.
“Um… I… I mean, Denver is....” You try to look anywhere but at her in your response, unsure if you want to reveal the true reason. You let out a deep sigh before continuing on, “Last I heard, Denver is a very strong and secure QZ. It’s far enough away from KC and I know we’d be safer inside those walls than out.”
Ellie looks at you puzzled, “What about FEDRA?”
“Survival is worth dealing with FEDRA.” The absoluteness in your voice silences Ellie’s further questions. Tears well in your eyes as the sting of your past is still so fresh and you’re thankful no one says a thing. “I will not force us to become their next victims if I can have any kind of say in it.”
You can tell Ellie wants to ask another question, but Joel finally decides to step in, “What you do is up to you. Why don’t we all keep our histories to ourselves so we don’t gotta worry about it.” You curtly nod in agreement before turning back to your meal.
Once everyone is finished, Junior seems to have had enough for the day. You pick him up and go to put him in your shared sleeping bag. As per your normal routine, you softly hum a lullaby in his ear. A tradition you have done with him every night since he was just a baby. Junior’s eyes begin to droop and you look in awe at your son.
What a brave young kid he is. Strong. Resilient. Your heart breaks over the simple fact that he needs to be. Life at the QZ won’t be perfect, but he'll be better off than now, better than where you were before.
Seeing his sleepy contentment, you make your way back over to the fire. Finding your new two partners speaking in hushed tones while you go back to your spot. Placing your hands out towards the warm fire.
“We get up and going early.” You look up to see Joel’s intense gaze from across the fire. The flames mirrored in the darkness that resides there.
And meanwhile, try as you might, you can’t seem to meet his eyes, “That shouldn’t be a problem, we do that anyway. When do you usually head out?”
“Shortly after dawn. Best to get some sleep while you can.”
“Oh, I am all set. I can take watch if you need some shut-eye, though.”
His menacing low laugh causes shudders to wash down your spine. “Ain’t that sweet? Sorry, sweetheart, but that’s not happening. Better to save your strength for kiddo over there.”
Ellie swats his arm, “Eww, Joel don’t call her sweetheart. Gross.” However, Joel remains unphased.
“Are you sure we don’t need two people?” Joel’s lack of response is telling enough, “Look. I get it, you don’t trust me. But, I have to be honest here, it is hard to trust you when you keep insisting on placing me in a vulnerable position here.”
“I’m trusting you just as much as you are me–”
“My stakes are higher and you know that. Can we at least split the night in two? Wouldn’t that be easier on you too?”
“Do whatever the hell you want. Just understand you would absolutely be doing yourself and the boy a disservice.” He looks over to the girl at his side. “‘S long as Ellie wants you here, nothin’ will happen to ya. You’re gonna have to trust me at some point. Might as well get used to it darlin’.” Without another word, he stands up and walks to his post.
Realizing you don’t have a say in the matter, you huff to yourself in frustration before quickly saying goodnight to Ellie and heading to bed. Who the hell does he think he is? You are just as much an adult as he is and should absolutely have a say in the matter. This is about your son’s safety. The man is dangerous, like there is any chance you are going to let him command compliance from you without so much as a conversation. You did not leave one dictator only to find another.
There is something off about Joel. Something off kilter, you are sure of it. With the way his eyes seem to latch onto you, tracking you like a predator onto its prey. He could absolutely devour you if he so chose. Is this really the kind of man you want to be around? Want your son to be around?
But you know there are far worse people out here to come across than this unlikely pair. You glance over at Ellie who is still staring into the now smoldering fire. She seems like a good kid. And there is no doubt in your mind that, should Ellie not have interfered on your behalf, things could have ended much deadlier than you really want to think about. At this point, all you can do is hope you can stay in her good graces for long enough to reach Denver. If he is a man of his word, you and Junior should be just fine.
You prepare for bed next to the sleeping boy. It’s a tight fit, but still comfortable for now (we’ll see how long that lasts with the growing kid). Reaching for your bag, you covertly grab your gun and hide it beneath the sleeping bag, ready at a moment’s notice. Sleep being the last thing on your mind when you have Junior to protect, feeling for the gun under your head. You bundle your little one in your arms and place a soft kiss on his warm head.
Summary: You are a single mother taking your young son west in the post-outbreak world. The two of you encounter Joel and Ellie after the fiasco that was Kansas City with the common goal of heading west.
Rating: T for now (E in future chapters)
Tags/Warnings: please check individual chapters for their specific tags and warnings. Some chapters are tagged dead dove do not eat (indicated by *) due to depictions of horror content. Please prioritize your mental well-being if the contents might be triggering.
A/N: Well, we are finally here. I’ve been thinking about starting this series for months now and I have to say it’s really exciting that I am actually making progress on it. I’ve rewritten the first chapter alone three different times and have storyboarded the rest of it but we will see how well I stick to that. I would love to hear your thoughts and I hope you’ll come with me along the way!
Chapter 1: Stand Still
*Chapter 2: Routine Breakdown*
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
I don't have a specific posting schedule and this is my first attempt at writing a series so I will appreciate y'all's patience throughout this process :)
8290 words | Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x Plus-sized!f!Reader (no y/n)
Summary: After the homecoming arrival of your new riduur and son, you are over the moon to get started on your “honeymoon” with your new family. Upon his return, Din reveals an aspect of what riduurok means that will change your relationship forever. With your own fears and insecurities, you seek out each other to find the love and comfort you need.
Tags/Warnings: 18+ mdni, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), fingering, overstimulation, body appreciation/worship, aftercare, internalized fatphobia, descriptions of body image insecurities/self-confidence issues, references to anxiety symptoms, not graphic mention of scars and past injuries, curvy reader, helmetless Din, lots of mando’a, gross interpretation of mandalorian culture, intimacy, domestic vibes, found family, hurt/comfort, kissing, affection, yearning, reunion, Din being a romantic sap, Grogu antics. Please feel free to let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: So this piece has lots of heavy themes related to self confidence, body image, and internalized fatphobia. As a plus-size person myself, this is a reflection of my own insecurities and struggles and I am not endorsing or claiming anyone else (plus-size or not) does, should, or needs to feel like this at all. Self love is a journey and I actually feel I learned a lot about myself and what I should work on in writing this fic. If you ever feel this way and are looking for support or someone to talk to about these topics, I would be happy to hear from you :)
All mando’a translations are at the end. This is very canon divergent. I can make up my own timeline and I did lol All I have to say is long live the Razor Crest. Thanks for reading!
“–and I promise we will be back soon, Cyar’ika. Kar’taylir darasuum.”
You stare at his last hologram message. Your Mandalorian is sitting in his cockpit with Grogu perched up in his lap playing with his ball. You may have watched a dozen times, unable to tear yourself from the image of your new family. Maker, you miss them so much.
You hear a voice call out from behind you, “Is that Mando?” You turn to see your boss and High Magistrate, Greef Karga, walk into the room. Wandering over to your desk and handing you a fresh stack of reports for you to deal with.
You sheepishly nod to him, trying to hide your embarrassment when getting caught missing your new riduur and son. Again. For the umpteenth time in the last few days. But can you really be to blame? You and Din made your riduurok vows right before he left and you’re damn near desperate to see him again.
Karga chuckles to himself and shakes his head at you. Not in judgment per se, but he loves poking his nose into any aspect of your love life. One of his favorite hobbies is snooping into the romance between his best employee and his armored and elusive colleague. “Be sure to tell him to get back soon. I got a whole grocery list of work with his name on it as soon as you’re done with your honeymoon here.”
You laugh softly in response, “I’ll let him know, although I don’t think he’ll be all too happy I am even here at all.” It’s true. Din was clear with you. He wanted you well rested and enjoying a short stay-cation while he went to the covert briefly to drop off his recent earnings. You would have joined him, but the armorer has not welcomed you yet and you didn’t want to intrude. Din had insisted you would have been fine to be there. But, you didn’t want your first meeting with the covert to be a massive overstep just because you were impatient. A few days into your break, however, you were actually looking forward to going back to your secretarial job at the High Magistrate's Office. Much better than the back rooms office you used to work at as the Guild’s one and only secretary.
But you’re only here until Din comes back. The two of you took some time off to bask in each other’s company as well as acclimate Grogu to your new addition to their clan. Your only communication with them is your daily check-in transmissions which mean the absolute world to you. Nevarro becomes a much lonelier place when you know your family is out there somewhere in the cosmos without you.
The next morning, you wake up to the sounds of unloading boxes and little giggles, followed by a quiet, modulated reprimand to stay quiet.
“–trying to sleep, kid. It’s still early here.” He talks to the child, as if that’s going to make a difference.
Your ears perk up at that voice and you rush out of bed to get to the door. Despite feeling tired from staying late at the office catching up on things, you suddenly feel more awake and alert. No need even remotely for your typical morning caf. Flinging the front door open, you find yourself face-to-face with the warrior. He drops what he is holding as you launch yourself at him. Squeezing him as tightly as you can while simultaneously melting into his touch as he wraps you in his embrace.
“I missed you more than you know, mesh’la.” His voice only soft enough for you to hear.
You squeeze impossibly tighter and whisper right next to his ear, “I think I have an idea, my love, if it’s anything like how much I missed you.”
With a quick touch of your foreheads, you break apart for you to eagerly search for your little one. You don’t need to search for long, though, the squealing toddler running over and force-jumping into your arms. You press your foreheads together briefly before you start doting on him. Telling him how big he's gotten since you have seen him and how much you missed him.
With Grogu on your hip, you try to assist Din in bringing everything inside your humble home. He gently brushes you off your help, claiming he’ll get them. You, meanwhile, head to the kitchen to get some breakfast started for the three of you. Already getting started cutting up some fruit the kid had been reaching for, grabbing it out of the air as it magically floated up to you. That’s still something to get used to, you think to yourself as you quietly laugh at the thought.
You call out to Din, “Is my riduur looking for something to eat this morning?”
You hear him grunt as he sets down the last box, “Your riduur needs to start unpacking and then shut his eyes for a bit.”
You come out of the kitchen, bowl of fruit in hand, and set Grogu on the ground. “How about, instead, I get us started while you go rinse off in the ‘fresher?” You know how much he prefers to shower in your home over the recycled water on the Razor Crest.
Din slowly shakes his head at you before suddenly grabbing your hip and pulling you into him. “You know me so well, ner cyar’ika. You don’t need to do anything, but if you could watch the kid? I won’t be long.” You nod in response and with that he navigates his way over to your refresher.
With a few minutes of alone time, you focus your attention on Grogu. Feeding him the fruit and making him makeshift dance in your lap as you sing an old nursery rhyme. His uncontrollable laughter the real music to your ears.
As promised, Din comes out of the fresher, armor slightly fogged over from the hot water. He takes in the crazed, yet weirdly domestic scene of you with his son before joining you both at the table while you finish up breakfast. He can’t help but admire how good you are with him. How attentive, fun-loving, and sweet you are around the kid, treating him like your own without any restraint.
The rest of the morning goes by relatively peacefully. You and Din start unloading and organizing all of the clan’s supplies from the crest they will need while they are here. Grogu drops in every once in a while, but quickly remembers how boring the task is.
While you have him there, you update him on what you have been up to these past few days. After an incredulous look from him, Din acquiesced that it doesn’t hurt to have a couple extra credits around just in case. “–oh, and Greef mentioned you have quite the list waiting for you.”
“Glad to hear he hasn’t forgotten me.”
“Even if you weren’t his number one hunter, a big, strong man such as yourself is pretty unforgettable.” He hums in acknowledgement before you add in a low whisper, “In more ways than one.”
Din whips his head to look at you and although you can’t know for sure, you have a sneaky suspicion he is all flustered and blushing under the beskar. That unfeeling, solid exterior persona of his momentarily falters as he seems to twist and fidget under your gaze. When he snaps out of it, he looks over to Grogu who is none the wiser. Too busy playing with his stuffed bantha toy you got him a few days ago during your alone time.
By late afternoon, Grogu is getting anxious for a nap. Him and Din having been up for hours earlier than you with their ship lag. You set up his crib in your guest room while Din prepares the little guy to get tuckered in. You love getting to spy on their quiet moments like this, it’s so clear how much that kid means to his dad.
Once he’s down, Din makes his way behind you and wraps his large figure around your own. Gently caressing your sides as he rests his forehead in the divot between your neck and shoulder. You run your hands along his vambrace and play with his hands. No need to say anything, the silence comfortable and welcome as you take in each other’s touch after so long. In all reality, Din is typically away much longer when he’s out working. But there is something about this newlywed bliss that makes you crave him, and him for you.
You turn around so you are chest to chest, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close. The two of you begin to silently slightly sway in the living room, sometimes accompanied by your hums as they come and go.
A few more minutes of this goes by before you lean your face right by his ear, “Now I do not know what you have been up to but I know you haven’t slept in days. How about you go rest and I’ll go to the market up the street and grab something for dinner.”
Din tsks at the suggestion, “And why would I do that? I’ve been without you for days, don’t turn me away so quickly.” Dragging you down on top of him as he lays down on the couch below.
You immediately start to tug yourself free from his hold, not willing to crush him underneath you. Instead, you ignore his reaches as you get up from the couch to find your bag. “I won’t be long, a little power nap never hurt anyone–”
“–or we can just go tomorrow?”
“I don’t even have enough to get us through dinner tonight. I won’t be gone long, I just got to grab a couple of things for us. Then I am all yours.” You rummage through your satchel to see if you have everything.
You hear him grunt and speak softly to himself from the couch. You finally look to see Din sitting upright on the couch, arms crossed, and staring straight ahead at the door in front of him. “You are already mine.”
“That I am, my love.” You playfully smile in his direction before lowering your forehead to meet his for the last time before you are out the door.
After a rather uneventful trip, you come back to a silent household. Upon carrying everything into the kitchen, you peek into Grogu’s room to see him sleeping peacefully in his crib. You smile to yourself before going to check on his dad. Creeping on over, you don’t even need to open the door to hear Din’s modulated snoring coming from your room.
You decide to get started preparing some dinner for the three of you. Some classic brothy soup with the added kick of some spices for yours and Din’s. You wouldn’t call yourself a galaxy-revered chef by any means, but you wouldn’t say you’re too bad either. At least your boys always seem to enjoy it. In the past few years you have known them, they are your number one customers and are quick to compliment everything you’ve offered. Although, they may not be the best judges, having seen Grogu munch on anything that moves.
As you start to pull out the pots you need to get started, you wince as you accidentally make a clanging sound. You stay absolutely still in hopes it didn’t wake the sleeping beauties. To your disappointment, you hear some rapid rustling come from your room and see a sleepy Din come scrambling over to you..
“Are you ok? What happened?” He immediately comes up to you and grabs your face in his hands, inspecting your face for anything wrong before doing the same to your arms.
You pull yourself free, “I’m fine, just clumsy, ner cabur. Pot slipped from my hand.” You can see him physically relax at your admission. Hearing the mando’a you also think puts him further at ease, at least it has in the past.
Looking at the time, Din mutters something about going to wake the kid. Wanting to make sure he can sleep through the night as well. When you finish mixing together the broth and putting it on the heat, you see father and son make their way over. Grogu’s little green hands try to hide the light from hitting his eyes and whines in discomfort. You take the opportunity to scoop him up and perch him at your waist while he continues to wake up, shadowing him from the bright kitchen light.
Once everyone is sufficiently woken up, you start issuing out soup for your trio. You and Grogu sit at your kitchen table as you help feed him his share. Din enjoys his from your room. You try to speak loudly enough for him to hear while you tell him about some of the interesting items you found at the market earlier. Although a very mundane topic, you know he doesn’t mind your constant talking. Knowing it’s not necessarily to fill in the void of sound, but rather to include him in every thought you have. An important distinction he learned early on when he started courting you officially a little over a year ago now.
The rest of the night goes by with Din giving you a short and sweet update of their travels. Having bumped into some of his vod, nothing crazy this go around, and getting to chat a bit with the armorer.
“Cyare,” His hand lightly cups your chin to bring your eyes to line with the T-shaped visor. “You should have seen it. Everyone felt elated when they heard the news. The armorer herself said she wanted to see you. They are eager to meet the one who is going to be bringing more verde to the covert.”
You pull your face from his grasp, “But I really don’t want to impose on–”
“You are my riduur, you would not be imposing on anything. You have the right to be there.” Din responds with such conviction, trying to prove that you can trust him on that fact. And you do. A smile stretches on your face at the idea.
“Ok, next time you go, I’ll join you.” Now, you definitely don’t need to see his face to see that smug look on his face. His pride is evident from his slightly puffing out his chest before he smoothly gets up and looks for the kid.
Sweeping him off the floor, he holds Grogu in his arms and then turns to you. Whispering to the little guy just loud enough for you to hear, “Did you hear that ad’ika? The whole aliit is going to go to the covert, didn’t I tell you?”
You laugh at the man, “Oh? Now you’re trying to make me look bad in front of the kid?”
“Actually you made the right choice so you avoided that one. Made me look good though.”
After a long day, it’s finally time for bed. You both work together to help the kid get to bed, which luckily did not require too much convincing. Once the two of you are ready as well, you both crowd into your unassigned, yet designated spots on your bed. Without a second thought, Din brings your body into his, spooning you while resting his helmet on the back of your neck. The cold beskar a sharp contrast from his warmth emanating from under his flight suit. His modulated breathing is a welcome, melodic addition to your nighttime routine.
You begin to run your fingers over his gloves again. At first, just doing it absentmindedly but when Din strengthens his hold, you grow a little bolder. Tracing your fingers further up his skin, just to tease a tiny bit.
In his gravely, modulated tone, he softly breathes into your ear, “Cyar’ika, don’t start something you aren’t looking for.”
You hum in content before beginning to rock into his body behind you. “Who says I don’t want it?”
Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, Din rips himself from you and climbs over you. Running his hands all over your curves and nudging his knees between your legs which happily open to his request. You graze your hands over his arms between the armored plates and grip onto his flight suit underneath with vigor.
Din’s wandering hands start to pull and tug at your night clothes. You smirk and reach for the lamp light. However, mid-stretch, he stops you. Pausing his ministrations and squeezes your waist before peeling himself off of you. You whine and twitch at the loss of this touch. He sits up in bed and shifts to stare up at the door. You look over to him slightly concerned.
“Din, is everything ok? What’s wrong?” You move up to join him, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and resting your head on his shoulder.
He’s silent, which is not uncharacteristic of him, however, not acknowledging your words at all definitely is. You rub the bottom of his back that the beskar neglects to cover and place your other hand on his armored thigh. Din grabs the hand on his thigh, almost questioningly, and just holds it in his. Weighing it for a second before dragging his thumb along your knuckles and digits.
You angle your head at him which seems to pull him from his trance. “Nothing is wrong, ner cyare.” He takes a deep breath. Continuing in a monotonous tone, devoid of his typical warmth he reserves just for you, “I have something for you.” And with that, he gets up and leaves the room.
You’re immediately thrown off but also intrigued? When you were courting, Din was notorious for bringing you little gifts and trinkets he found on his travels. Even despite your constant reminders that it was not necessary. Always the stubborn, yet very thoughtful, man, he would not hear any of it and proceeded to gift you with something every time he made it back on planet. Your collection still proudly resides in your living room, every item with its own rich history and are indeed priceless to you and you alone.
But right now? Din isn’t always the best with romantic timing (or timing in general) but even this was a bit extreme for him. And his solemn attitude? He always looks forward to sharing his little treasures with you. So what could it be?
He returns looking a little apprehensive, a little brown sack in his hand. Joining you once again on the bed and turning to face you. “When I left for the covert, I told you I needed to speak with the armorer.” Din wordlessly grabs your hand with his free hand and you try to do your best to ignore the alarm bells sounding off in your head, “And I did. But I neglected to mention that I was there primarily to pick up an important piece I asked her to make for me… For you.”
You are taken aback, “For me? But I don’t wear any armor?”
“I know that.” He laughs to himself. “I know in your traditions, you typically receive it before the vows. However, due to the sacredness of beskar, I was not allowed to give it to you until afterwards.” Din empties the little sack onto his gloved hand. Silently asking for your hand as he places the cold metal on your finger.
A ring. You inspect the piece in fascination and astonishment. Polished and shining in the subdued warm lamp lighting. You run your finger along the engraved grooves and symbols on its surface. It is truly beautiful.
Water begins to well up in your eyes as you look up into his T-shaped visor again, trying to grasp onto any semblance of words you can come up with. You sound almost breathless as your voice comes back to you, “Din, I can’t believe it… This is… perfect.”
Your tears flood your vision as you are unable to hold them back any longer and your cheeks begin to burn with how much you are smiling. A fraction of the tension in Din’s shoulders lifts away, he quirks his head to the side and fully embraces you.
“It’s a piece of me, my people, and my clan you can always have and hold.” He finds your hand and runs his finger along the engravings, “This is the mudhorn, representative of our clan. Grogu will have the same symbol embossed on his own beskar’gam. And this… it reads Kar’taylir darasuum.”
Your heart just about bursts. Mando’a for ‘I know you forever’, it’s his declaration of love Din tells you everyday. You bring his helmet down to your forehead and sit like that for a second, soothingly caressing his hands in yours. “Din Djarin, you never cease to amaze me.”
Din pulls away, taking his hands with him, and once again angles himself to your door. That intimate moment is gone and once again replaced with uncertainty. This time, you just stare at the door with him and wait for him. No expectations, letting him think.
The warmth in his voice is gone once again as he speaks up again, “There is one more thing I have to tell you.” His helmet doesn’t move, but his hands twist and tangle in his lap. Playing and tugging at the little brown bag like a lifeline in his hand before stuffing it back on his person.
You pull one of his hands back into yours and you squeeze his hand as a silent reminder that you’re here for him. It slightly trembles and shakes in yours, something that you’ve never seen before. His modulated breathing also begins to pick up, so you start to softly hum the same quiet lullabies you sing to Grogu. Hoping that it will help him relax.
After a few minutes, Din’s breathing starts to cool down. He clears his throat and takes in one deep breath. Then, he turns to you again, “As part of the Mandalorian creed, I am not allowed to reveal myself to anyone but my family. As my riduur, that now includes you.” Ripping himself from your touch, Din immediately stands up and walks away from the bed, nearing the door but pausing before exiting. Arms wrapped around himself like he’s trying to hide himself from you.
Meanwhile, you have no idea what to do with this new revelation. You go to stand near him but stay far enough away so you are not encroaching on his space. “Well, Din, if you do not want to, you do not need to. I committed to you with the understanding that I will never see you. Do not feel like you must just to please me. I am happy to wait as long as you need, even if that day never comes.” You reassure him.
Din’s head snaps towards you and he instantly shakes his head. “That’s not what I am saying at all, cyar’ika.” Crossing over to you, he grabs your hands and places them on his helmet so you look directly into his visor. “I want to. I want you to see and experience all of me. It’s just…” Another deep breath, “Without my beskar’gam, I am just a man. Vulnerable and weak.” He looks away from you ashamed.
“You are still Din. With or without the armor and weapons, without the helmet and the tools. You are strong and unconquerable in your own right. The beskar does not make that true, that’s you.” You move to wrap him in your tight hug. “Take your time–I will be here whenever you are ready. ” You nuzzle up closer into his neck.
“Thank you, cyare. I know I am always safe with you.” He holds you just as tight as you do him and the two of you sway in place, listening to the others breathing. Din then moves to pull away and he grabs your hands in his, “I want to do it.”
“Right now?” You look at him questioningly, not forceful or judgmental, more so checking to see if that’s what he really wants.
He nods before ushering you back to your spot on the bed, “Could you close your eyes for me?” You dutifully do so. “I’ll be right back.” And you hear him leave the room and march over to the refresher. Not daring to open your eyes, you take a deep breath as you hear the sounds of metal being gracefully placed on your floor. You finally can hear his helmet depressurizing and your heartbeat begins to pick up, this is really happening.
A few more minutes roll by before you hear his near silent padding make their way back to you and feel the bed dip as he sits down next to you. His unmodulated voice, closer than ever before, quietly whispers for you.
“You can open them now”
And when you do, you can't help but gasp. Truly a sight to behold. The warm lighting of your lamp casts him in the perfect glow, or maybe that is just his skin. His hair a shaggy cut length that reveals the hint of curls there. His mustache and facial hair excellently framing his face.
“You are so beautiful, Din Djarin.”
He huffs a laugh, like it’s some kind of joke until he sees the awe in your eyes. The pure adoration as you take in every feature of his face. The way his skin pinches around his eyes, the spots in his patchy beard, his dimples, and, your new favorite thing, that gorgeous smile of his. His true laugh bringing you insurmountable joy at the sound. You also notice how broad and big he is in just his flight suit. You figured the armor and weapons would add a lot of the bulk he has, but you were incorrect. His broad figure definitely takes the credit for his hulking frame. Maker, you love this man so much.
Din looks down to see your hands twitching in your lap. With his gloved hands, he slowly brings yours to his face. He slightly cringes at your cold skin which you then tear away, thinking you’ve hurt him. He shakes his head and brings them back. Still in complete awe, you slowly run your fingers all across his face and watch in wonder as he melts into your touch.
You scooch up closer to run your fingers in his hair, which makes him close his eyes at the sensation. You continue on with your exploration, slowly running your hands anywhere they could possibly go. You whisper sweet nothings in his ear, admiring every crook, cranny, and ridge on his face. Sometimes, you’ll come across little ticklish spots and catch flashes of his smile making its way back until a content smile finally stays there.
Once Din finishes soaking up your attention, he grabs your wrists and lowers them to your lap. He can see the love that resides in his eyes when he looks at you, it is incredible. He peels his gloves from his hands and reaches to hold your face and you do the same. You stare into each others’ eyes a second longer before you speak up.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Gedet’ye”
Din nods quickly before you both are leaning into each other. The moment your lips meet, it’s like the whole world stops. It’s just you and him. Two people. Two lovers. The kiss is slow, indulgent, and even a little apprehensive in nature.
Trying your best to not overwhelm during his (probably) first ever kiss, you focus your excess energy on slowly roaming his body with your hands. His arms, his chest, up and down his back, tangled in his hair. Anywhere in your reach. The sounds he makes are delicious, happy to indulge the man when you find those spots that make him turn into putty.
When his hunger wins out over the romance of it all, Din deepens the kiss. You allow his curiosity to guide him in his exploration of this new territory. He’s not a complete natural, stumbling along the way, maybe perhaps a little too forceful, but you don’t mind. Quickly gaining back control as you lead him by example in the way you take over the kiss. When Din tries his hand at leading again, you easily give in. This time, he does much better. You encourage him with soft scalp massages and hums of approval, to which he responds in kind.
Sure, you and Din have fucked. Many times, actually, over the years you’ve been working around each other. It first served as a way to fulfill a need, a means to completion. Then came the dance of who would give into temptation first, whose lust and passion would cause them to break first. After, a drive for companionship and a partner pulled them into each other’s arms. But this? This is different, this is love. This physical act a way of proving to one another the truth depth of the emotions they feel. A promise of devotion and care.
Din starts to lean you back on to the bed, climbing on top of you without even breaking the kiss. You both giggle at the intimacy of this, never having gotten even close to this before. He finally separates from your lips. But only for a moment. Diving in to kiss along your face, behind your ear, and down your neck, all while racing his greedy hands over every inch he can touch. Pulling at your clothes for the second time tonight.
Your arm stretches out again and Din slides his hand into yours while he mouths against the divot between your neck and shoulder. Except, you sit up a little more to flip the lamp off. Confused, Din hits the light on again.
“You can have all of me now, there is no need to hide in the darkness anymore.” Din looks at you with a seductive smile on his face before resuming his activity from before.
“Oh…oh…um, ok” Your nerves coming through more in your words than you had hoped
Sensing something is off and he peels himself off of you to look into your eyes again. He comes to see how anxious you are and immediately goes into protective mode “What’s wrong? Is everything ok?” His own concern was now apparent in his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine.” Your words contradict your breathing as it begins to speed up rapidly. Trying to climb up his body again and bring him closer.
Din doesn’t play into it at all and pushes you back down onto the bed below him, “Woah now, cyare, listen, it’s ok. Breathe with me, alright?” You both then take a couple deep breaths in and out together until your breathing gets back to normal.
Din looks at you perplexed, not getting a good read on what you’re thinking. Is this too intimate for you? Do you not trust him? Did you not want to see him? He speaks up through his thoughts, “Talk to me, what is making you nervous?”
You look up at him as tears begin to poke their way into your vision. How could you possibly tell him? He’s been so open and vulnerable tonight, why can’t you do the same for him?
For as many times as you two have been together, one thing always remained the same. Everything was always done in complete darkness and Din had to be fully armored the entire time. You never saw any problem with this. You would never call his creed into jeopardy and had no issue following your long-since outlined parameters. Especially the lights-off rule. You have never been naked in front of him in the light. And yes, Din knows the feel of your skin better than anyone in the galaxy. But, you were far too ashamed to show him the curves and folds he worshiped in the blackest of nights into the light of day. You knew your clothes could be deceiving in hiding the extra pudge you held. What if he found you unattractive? Or even disgusting? You've faced the criticisms before and it would absolutely tear you apart if Din felt that way. It was easier to be in the dark. For his creed, for your own security.
“What if you don’t like what you see?” You say between sniffles. Hoping he will automatically understand the message and move on from here. Shoving your face in your arms, effectively hiding from him.
Din, on the other hand, is completely shocked at your words. You’re worried about what he will think? This will not stand. “Mesh’la, you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, how could you say such a thing? I know every crevice and curve of your body, I worship it as my alter. Have I not done a good enough job proving that to you?”
You can hear the sadness in his voice but you don’t dare to respond. He continues, “If you would rather keep going in the dark, we can do that. But please, not for my sake. I have dreamt about you, craving to see you for months, maybe even years–”
“–That’s what I’m worried about” You chime in. “My clothes hide certain features of myself, I can not live up to the expectation in your head.”
He shakes his head at the thought. “My expectation is to explore and consume every inch of you. I will pay homage to every wrinkle, every dimple, and every stretch of skin if it means it is a part of you.”
Your head peeks out from its hiding spot to look into those gorgeous brown eyes of his. It’s then that you realize just how much he means those words. His expression demonstrates every ounce of love, affection, and desire he feels as his words fail him.
You raise a hand up to cup his jaw, rubbing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. Staring into his eyes as you respond, “And what if you don’t like it?”
“What is there not to like, cyare? Your body is you.” Din touches your foreheads together and you two stay connected just like that for a few minutes. The cadence of each other’s breathing is both comforting and grounding .You are both in this together.
You sit back, and look at him, a warm smile on your face. If there is anyone in this entire galaxy worthy of taking a shot on, it is this man in front of you. Finding some confidence again, you make your decision. “I trust you.”
Unable to withhold his excitement, Din dives into you once again. Arms and legs tangle around one another haphazardly as you both take in everything the other has to offer and more. Still unsatisfied, you start to pull at his flight suit to free him but he pauses your movements with his grip around your wrist.
Din brings it to his lips as you bury yourself in that sweet spot behind his ear. He pauses his attention intermittently to share, “We’ll do this one piece at a time,” Another kiss to your soft skin, “Together.”
You both nod fervently and begin tugging at his flight suit again until you pull the top from him. They wide stretches of his skin go on for seemingly miles and you are overcome with the desire to map out every dip and curve of his with your hands. You move to straddle him, making sure you don’t put any weight on him in the process, and go to town kissing and exploring every inch of the newly revealed skin. He’s so soft, so warm. When you come across his scars and the stitches that decorate his skin, you pebble your lips over their harsh lines. Making Din gasp and moan from above you.
You are honestly too enraptured at your current task to notice Din grab your hips. Pushing your hips and legs to rest further on his own. Not in a sexual manner, per se, but as a silent plea, blatant permission to make yourself comfortable. You unconsciously take advantage of the change and begin further shuffling your way down his body. Running your lips and fingers all over his arms and torso. Leaving goosebumps in their wake.
You are the first to be so entirely thankful for the light. Allowing you to fully take in and enjoy the art and experience of his body. So starkly different from the only other version of him you know, but you love just as much.
Din begins to twist and shuffle underneath you. He lets out whines and pulls at you, urging you to halt the overstimulation of his previously touch-starved skin. As a show of mercy, you make your way back up to his lips. He clings to you, burying his face in you while you envelope your arms around his exposed skin, cradling his head where it rests on your shoulder.
Then, Din gently nudges for you to turn so you are now the one laying flat on the bed. You feel his twitching fingers roam up the sides of your clothes and you both work together to get the offending pieces off of you.
Left only in your chest binder and panties, your immediate instinct is to cover whatever part of yourself you can. Trying your best to avoid his stares, you search for anything around your bedroom to look at instead of him right on top of you.
“Mesh’la… My riduur is absolutely stunning.”
Din then drops down to your neck and plants his kisses anywhere he can see. His hands bend and curve alongside the grooves of your body. Squeezing the excess skin with tenderness and reverence. His lips and tongue taste along the surface as he makes his way down your figure.
Although not a very talkative man in general, Din seems to have lost control of his tongue as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin. At least you think they are. Over time, Din has introduced various words, terms, and phrases of Mando’a for you to understand him. You even recognize a few mandalorian pet names slip from him, but you don’t know everything that he’s saying. Or it is entirely possible you feel too overwhelmed by his touch and intoxicating voice to truly focus on his words.
While continuing his exploration, Din brushes a finger along the line of your clothed slit. Your encouraging sounds lead him to sneak his finger beneath the fabric to find you absolutely soaked for him. He teases along your lips, just barely grazing your walls before he brings his finger to his mouth. Your taste on his tongue causes a guttural moan to escape him. Releasing his finger, Din then brings his whole back down to cup your whole cunt. Your eyes cannot keep up between looking at his hand on you or maintaining the intensity of his gaze on your face.
“Best thing I ever tasted, Mesh’la, I need more.” He down-right commands as he begins to rub the heel of his hand on your clothed clit.
“Please Din, please–I” you think, but a shocked gasp interrupts you as Din tears the offending fabric from you. He then begins his assault on your pussy. Two fingers immediately breach your entrance and Din watches in awe as you easily take them. Adding a third as you accommodate the stretch.
Above him, you’re in utter disarray. Unable to find a grounding grip on anything and left to deal and take what he’s giving you. Din reaches his other hand to grasp onto your breast and massages it in his hand. You pull at your chest binder and he does the honor of throwing it off to the side.
“Oh Maker, please–Din– I need” Your lips form a perfect ‘O’ when you feel his wet tongue begin its worship. At first, Din just works doing small kitten licks up your seam until me dives down deeper. It’s a little off initially, but he is a quick study as he falls into a pattern modeled after your reactions to his efforts. It doesn’t take long then for him to grow impatient and lose control as his short licks turn into him attempting to completely devour you. With the increased intensity, you can’t stop yourself from burying your hands in his soft hair. Gripping and pulling on it as if your life depended on it, because at this moment, it feels like it does.
You hear Din groan from below, jolting you back to your senses. You release him without a second thought and clasp onto your breasts and squeeze hard. In a breathless voice you apologize, “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Without pausing his current activities, he stretches his arms up and blindly searches for your arms. Grabbing hold of your wrists and pulling them back to his head. You feel more than hear his words as he mumbles into your folds but you get the message. Your hands find purchase in his hair again, yanking and massaging all along his scalp.
He is not loosening up or slowing down on the force he overwhelms your heat with and your orgasm is right at the edge. Panting, you look down at him and he looks at you, “Din, I am right there, I am right there, please.” He kicks up his pace, his eyes not leaving your face.
You feel a wave of pleasure wash over you, only being tethered down by Din’s rubbing up and down your thighs as he continues his assault on your core. Exhausted, you are barely able to shove him away when the overstimulation becomes too much.
A proud Din makes his way up to you. Laying on top of your side as he lazily kisses up the curve of your shoulder to the crease under your jaw while you put yourself back together. A few more minutes like that and your breath starts to even out. You look over to him to see him already staring at you .
“Are you ok to keep going?” You nod eagerly but Din shakes his head. “I need to hear it cyar’ika.”
“Yes, I want you.”
“Then you can have me.” He replies before kissing your lips once again. He rolls off of you to take off his pants and you gulp at the sight.
It’s beautiful. Thick, and long, and an enraged shade of red. You’ve felt his cock many times, whether it be in your hands or in you in some capacity, but being able to see it is a whole new experience.
“You never cease to amaze me, my love.” You say before pushing him back on the bed. Making your way down his body until you are right on top of his thick tree trunks of thighs, marveling at his cock right in front of you.
You bring your finger to trace up the side of it and Din gasps above you. He grabs a pillow and throws it over his face while you stare as white precome pearls at the head. Throwing the pillow back down on the bed to watch your sick torture.
“Oh he’s hurting, isn’t he?” You lean down and lick along his vein. “And he’s been so good and patient, we should do something about that.”
You sink down before he can respond and Din is in agony, if the sounds he makes are any indication. He moans and groans, whimpers, and hisses at any movement. When you gag on his length, his hand shoots to your throat. Not squeezing or putting any pressure there, but rather finding some much needed leverage in this situation.
“Cyare, please, I need you to stop.” His words get caught in his throat as you take him all the way in again. “I can’t last much longer and I need to…” He doesn’t need to finish that thought before you are off of him. You place one last kiss on his head before crawling up his lap again. Keeping your legs planted on either side of him.
Din gives you a mischievous grin before flipping you both around as you squeal in surprise. The two of you laugh and look into each other’s eyes. You don’t tear your gaze from his as you reach your hand down to find his weeping cock, pumping him a few more times before he angles himself at your entrance.
“Go for it, handsome.” You say with a smile stretched wide on your face.
Din himself seems momentarily tripped up at the compliment before he sinks his entire length into your warmth and stills. No matter how many times you take him, there is always a bit of a stretch. As you focus on controlling your breathing, you see Din's struggling face as he gazes at the connection between you. Both of your hands fly to his face, making him stare into you which seems to center him. You bring your forehead to his one last time before nodding your approval for him to move.
He starts out very slow, grunting and hisses right next to your ear as he gets used to your tight hold on him. Your own stifled moans provide the encouragement he is looking for as he settles into a quicker pace.
It takes all of your mental strength to resist the need to feel, to touch, and to hold him right now. Despite your yearning, you don’t want to overwhelm his touch-starved nerves more than they probably are already. So instead, you clench down on to the sheets underneath you, twisting and burying your fingers in the fabric as much as possible.
Din watches your desperate hands and, despite your eyes portraying otherwise, he clearly understands your struggle. He pauses his movements and stares deep into your eyes. He then releases your hand and tangles it in his before placing it by your head and trailing little kisses across the apples of your cheeks.
“I will let you know if it is too much, you can touch.” His voice comes out a little bored and deeper than usual.
You hike your legs up higher for him to get even closer before you nod your understanding. Din eases back into his previous pace, this time kissing down your neck to your chest, still firmly holding onto your hand. You release your other hand from the fabric and move it to his head. Brushing and grasping onto his hair with each thrust which he moans and whimpers to in response.
You hear Din talk and whisper compliments and praises into your skin. Words not necessarily made for your ears, but rather to express his worship and reverence for your body. He massages and grabs along the excess skin on your arms, torso, and thighs, anywhere he can reach. Treating every inch like a temple, every touch and movement a silent promise of love and devotion.
As you edge closer and closer to your climax, your whines and groans grow longer and louder. Din hardens his already pace and returns his attention to your face and the curve of your neck.
“You are the most incredible, gorgeous being I have seen in this galaxy.” He squeezes your hand one last time before releasing it to cradle the back of your head. He breaks himself from his ministrations on your skin to peer into your eyes.
“Gedet’ye, Din, please.” You beg as your arms wrap around his own neck and shoulders, pulling him completely on top of you.
“Go ahead, mesh’la, let go.” He whispers so sweetly in your ear.
And you are gone, waves of pleasure threaten to drown you as your orgasm crashes down on you. Din’s pace doesn’t stop as he helps you come down from your climax, working his way up to his own climax before he falls over himself. His comforting body weight slumps on top of you as his warm seed makes its home in you.
The two of you lay there for a bit, droopy-eyed and smiley. You petting and combing through his hair and rubbing along his back as he plants soft kisses on your skin and skims his fingers along your arms. Your sleepy eyes finally land closed before Din finds the strength to part from you. You whine as he gets up and makes his way back over to the refresher. You tiredly pull the sheets back and snuggle in before he makes his way back. On his walk back, you hear him quietly pick up the discarded clothes and pillow and smile at his thoughtfulness.
He plants a kiss on your forehead before raising the sheets once again and towels you down. “Absolute perfection, cyare. Thank you for sharing yourself with me. Kar’taylir darasuum.”
You hum in agreement before opening your eyes again to see your riduur. Your love, your whole life, you would do anything for this man. You raise your hand to his face, cupping his jaw, “Thank you for trusting me so much. I am the luckiest being in this galaxy to be with and loved by you. Kar’taylir darasuum.”
A warm smile finds Din’s face again. He throws the towel to the side before snuggling up behind you in bed. His forehead aligns with the back of yours before he lazily speaks up one last time, “Second only to me, ner uvet.”
the way I am literally kicking and giggling like crazy I am so glad you enjoyed it! I really had so much fun writing this and got to learn so much about mando culture along the way. your comment really means so much to me!!! Thanks for reading :)
description: joel fixes your toilet but you can't help but yearn for more time with him. so you invite him to dinner and try to win his stomach? aka love?
word count: 3.2k words
warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, reader does have anxiety/mental illness that is not fully recognized/diagnosed, mentions of eating food, reader lives alone, reader got MONEYYYY, mentions of joel's ex wife (gasp), alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, kissing, flirting. all the fluffy stuff <3
author's note: hey...hey.... how y'all doing?? i'm so so so sorry this has taken so long. my life has been crazy for the last like 4 months and I'm finally getting settled into my life again. I miss y'all and I miss writing, so HERE I AM! I'm hoping everyone who wanted me to tag them months ago is still cool with me tagging them 4 months later lol. okay, lemme know what you think xoxo
Joel comes and goes for days. The first day he returns, he inspects your toilet again and tells you he has the wrong tools. You discuss a game plan and by his initial projections, your toilet should be fixed the next day. But when he fails to come by in the morning, you decide to call the phone number on the post-it note he left for you the day before.
The phone rings and you get an answering machine of a younger girl telling you to leave her and Dad a message after the beep. When the line lets out a long ding, you breathe out the random croak in your throat.
“Uh, hey, Joel, it’s me. Just seeing if you’re stopping by today. If not, that’s fine, I’ll be home all day today and tomorrow. Okay, uh, bye.”
Hours go by and you find yourself pacing, regretting your decision to leave him a message. What if he gets it and thinks that you’re crazy?
Ever since you had made his acquaintance, you felt completely reliant on interacting with him. It may be due to the fact that you haven’t socialized with anyone else in months. You were very good at isolating yourself, but lately, it’s been eating you alive being so alone. Now that you had this big house, the silence felt almost too quiet. Joel’s southern drawl and straightforward responses gave a bit of light back to your life.
Around dinner time, your landline rings. You practically fall over your couch racing to pick it up, hoping it was him.
“Howdy neighbor,” He grunts through the phone, “Sorry I didn’t come by today, hope ya didn’t miss me too much.”
You let out a dry laugh, trying not to sound too giddy about him following up with you. You were borderline pathetic.
“No, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” You manage to get out, “You are still alive right?”
“Still kickin’, just busy as all get out. ‘M fixin’ to head to your place now if you’re not busy.”
You look down at your pajamas and start to nod. It’s not like he can see you through the phone, but you are reacting to his words like he’s right in front of you.
“Sure thing, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
-
“So… It’s really just you here? All by your lonesome?”
He’s messing with his toolbox, searching for the one tool he needs to fix the toilet. You stir your fresh brewed tea, ensuring none of the sugar clumps up at the bottom of the mug. You had offered him some, but he politely declined, telling you that he had a big dinner.
You take a sip, testing the sweetness. “Just me. How about you? Just you and your daughter, right?”
He laughs heartedly, turning towards you from where he’s squatted. You look at him with curious eyes, unsure if you asked the wrong question. He stands up, a wrench in his hand, a smile still spread across his face.
“Her mama left town with her new boyfriend about 5 years ago. Wanted the city life, not the life I gave her. It’s been just me and her ever since.”
So he’s single. You think to yourself.
You realize the laugh was probably because of how absurd and new it must be for someone to ask him about his life. He grew up here and you are positive everyone here already knew all about his business. You are a breath of fresh air for him.
Before the silence becomes awkward, you speak up. “City life ain’t worth a shit.”
“Yeah, she’s different. Won’t speak ill of her ‘cause that’s my bosses’ mama. She sees her now and again. They are just very different.”
The conversation comes easy with Joel. While the first couple of interactions you two shared were a bit strained, after days of small talk, you realize he’s the truest Southern gentleman you’ve ever interacted with. Polite with a little bite. He never speaks ill of others, except his brother. He loves to pick on Tommy. He seems like an attentive father. He loves to pick at you, always pointing out your Northern tendencies. Your horrible driving. Your accent and your speech patterns. But he’s also very complimentary. A couple of days ago, he remarked how nice your perfume was when you were standing close to him. It made your heart skip a beat.
And on top of all of those things, he’s very easy on the eyes.
“That’s mighty fine of you not speaking ill of your ex,” You try to drag out the silly Southern saying, which causes him to chuckle again. You smack your lips before continuing, “Wish I could do the same.”
You are not sure what he’s doing to the tank of your toilet, but you watch him strain to get a piece out of the corner with the wrench he has. He clenches his teeth, turning the piece to the left to loosen it.
“Exes are exes for a reason,” He grunts, fiddling with some more things in the tank, “I ain’t too hung up on datin’ right now. I got my girl and my horses.”
“And now you got me, your annoying neighbor who almost crashes into your horses and asks you to fix toilets.”
He breathes out loudly, “Yeah, ‘nother pain in my ass. Just what a man needs.”
-
The toilet is fixed too quickly. You had busied yourself with other small cleaning tasks that when Joel finds you in the kitchen doing dishes, he startles you. It took him about 15 minutes to finish the job and you had thought you could at least finish up the dishes you made from dinner.
“‘M all finished up. Gotta get back home to do some rounds at the stables,” He says as he waltzes over to your paper towel holder. He grabs a sheet and begins to wipe his damp hands, “Anythin’ else for me today?”
You turn off the running water, going down a list of fixes you could ask him to do. You decide it’s probably best to just ask him to swing by another day to help you with other things.
“No, thank you though, Joel. I am sure I’ll be by to ask for more help,” You chuckle, shaking your hands dry, “I owe you dinner or something.”
As you say it, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. He’s staring at you and there’s a glint in his eyes. You are not that good at reading people, mostly because you are deathly afraid of being wrong. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the counter near you. He’s so close and in your space, but you try to push the thought of him coming onto you out of your mind.
“What’do you got on the menu tomorrow?”
His voice is kind of husky which makes your brain draw a blank. You wipe your hands on your pants before crossing the kitchen to check your fridge. You glance through your ingredients, settling for the only dinner item you can conjure up that his southern palette may like.
“Baked chicken and vegetables?”
He nods, tossing his paper towel into the bin beside you. “Yeah, I've been needing a home-cooked meal. Think I could come over at like 5? Tomorrow?”
You recollect a time when a guy showed interest in wanting to hang out with you outside of work. It had been years and he was not nearly as attractive as the man in front of you.
You nod slowly, trying not to look too robotic due to your nerves. “Sure thing, cowboy.”
-
You did not know what to wear. You contemplated going into town to see what the local boutiques had but you ran the risk of Joel seeing you out. You didn’t even know if this was a date.
You settle on a sundress you have owned since high school. It’s the perfect length and while your mind goes to wanting to impress Joel, you also need to be comfortable.
You cleaned your house, adding some new decorations to your living room walls. You even clean your sheets and make sure your bedroom is vacuumed.
When the time comes for Joel to arrive, you pace the kitchen anticipating the doorbell. You already had all the food prepped and ready to put in the oven. The vegetables have been cut and seasoned. Everything was just the way you needed it to be.
Joel gets there 5 after your scheduled time. When you welcome him at the door, his hair is styled and you can tell he put on his “fancy jeans”.
What you didn’t expect was the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands.
“Afternoon, neighbor,” He begins before extending the floral arrangement towards you, “My girl said I had to bring you something nice. Somethin’ bout being a gentleman.”
You smile widely, giving flowers all your attention. Even with the fragrant bouquet, you get a whiff of his sandalwood cologne.
“Nice to see you cleaned up for me, cowboy. Come on in, dinner is about to get put in the oven.”
-
You catch him scanning you up and down when you place the spread of chicken and vegetables on the table. He was in the midst of talking about his daughter and her band fundraiser, but he completely halted when you took notice of his staring.
You settle into the dining room chair across from him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t.
“She needs more sponsors?” You break the silence, wanting to move away from the sudden awkwardness.
He swallows, reaching for the serving fork, “Oh, yeah. She needs to reach a certain goal to go on her senior band trip.”
You try to avoid his wandering gaze again, focusing on organizing your plate of vegetables. “Where are they going?”
“Disney. She ain’t never been out of Texas, so she really wants to go.”
You remember all the trips your family said they’d go on to Disney, but they never did. Your father could not stand being around his own children, let alone other people’s children. You think about how he used to complain about your constant questions, all the times he completely ignored you for your brother. You start to spiral, the anxiety creeping up in the back of your throat. You push your chair out from under the table, excusing yourself for a moment. You go to the bar you have set up in the living room and grab the only sweet wine you have. Strawberry. You grab two glasses from the top of the setup and walk back to Joel.
“Forgot wine,” you mumble, setting a glass in front of him, “You want some?”
He is already picking at his chicken, “Yeah, I’ll take some.”
You are quiet as you uncork it expertly, pouring it into each of the glasses. Joel watches you like a hawk. You can tell he’s trying to read your expression, so you try your best to remain neutral even though your hands are shaking.
You place the bottle in the middle of the table, making sure it’s easily reachable.
You finally sit back down, sipping the red liquid. The strawberry flavor isn’t very strong, it’s more like a hint of the berry. You had gotten the bottle from a roadside stand in Kentucky. An older lady who must have owned a vineyard nearby was selling them for $5 each. You told yourself you would only use it for a special occasion. This event seemed fitting.
Wine always makes you flushed, but you are always a bit flushed around Joel. Even more so when he’s watching you so intently.
After a couple of sips, you finally rest your shoulders and begin to eat your dinner.
“I could sponsor her,” you finally say, returning to the previous conversation. For some reason, you felt obligated. Joel quickly retaliates, shaking his head as he chewed on your roasted veggies.
“You ain’t gotta do that, doll.”
The nickname rings in your ears. You take another sip of wine. You can tell Joel notices your reaction because he smirks with his mouth full.
“But I want to, Joel. I’m sure she has worked hard her high school career, she deserves to have fun.”
He hums, but still shakes his head negatively, “I can’t let you just pay for-”
“You can and you will,” You enjoy another bite, smirking at your defiance towards him. He looks perplexed. “So when is this fundraiser? Is there like a dinner or something?”
He finally caves, “This Friday at the school. It’s a dinner and auction. I guess if the kids don’t find their sponsors, some local businesses are willing to sponsor them.”
“Are you going?”
“Yeah,” He cuts up his chicken, “I guess you’re gonna come along, too, if you’re givin’ my girl all that money.”
“Does a check work?”
He sits back in his chair, already finishing off his wine, “You seriously don’t have to-”
“What are neighbors for, Joel?”
He nods, “You mean friends.”
You furrow your brows, trying to let your hazy mind find a time when you called him your friend. This was a new development.
“Friends, huh?”
He pours more in his glass, “Well, I’d like to think so.”
The wine is hitting your system and you realize your arms feel lighter. You grab the stem of your glass and tip it up to down the rest of the alcohol. Joel’s eyes are trained on you, waiting for a snarky response.
“Do friends stare at other friends like that?” You pour more wine for yourself. You realize he’s done eating so before he can respond to your flirtation, you speak up again, “You done with that?”
He looks down at his empty plate, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Yes friends look at other friends like that, or you’re done eating.”
He grins, “‘m done eating, doll.”
-
You two find your way out to the rocking chairs. They were left there by the previous owners and you could tell they were probably as old as you.
You had another full glass of wine, sipping it as Joel lit up a cigarette. He admitted it was only a bad habit when he was drinking, which was rare. “Sarah gets onto me when I have even one beer. So this has gotta be between us two.”
You swirl the crystal, watching him carefully take a drag of the stick. “Your secret is safe with me, cowboy.”
He giggles as he lets out a huff of smoke. “I haven’t had secrets in a long time. Guess I’m lucky it’s with the town stranger.”
The statement hits you in the very pit of your settling tummy. You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward towards him. Your chairs are not that far away from one another, so this is probably the closest you have ever been to him except for that one moment in the kitchen.
“Luckiest man in Texas that’s for sure,” You muster, averting your eyes. You could not stare into his beautiful brown eyes for too long. “Having the privilege of getting me out of my head. No man has done that in years.”
“What? You not good at letting loose?”
You shake your head, knowing that he did not understand what you meant. You take a moment to inhale, finally glancing up at him again. “I think I may just be cursed.”
“Now, why do you say that?”
You contemplate spilling the beans. Letting your heart fall onto your sleeve after years of shielding it from anyone who looks your way. Your lips part, but no words come out. It’s just the sounds of the cicadas.
“As soon as something is good, it gets bad somehow. I don’t even get a moment to savor it.”
You feel the statement down to your bones. The last time you felt settled in your own life, the rug got pulled out from under you. You cannot remember a time when you truly felt present in a special moment. You always felt like you were floating outside of your body, watching things happen and never really truly feeling anything.
You don’t expect him to lean closer to you, “Whatever happened before you got here, you ain’t gotta worry about it anymore. You obviously put distance between you and what happened for a reason. Let this little side of the world be your home now.”
You push your spiraling thoughts away, letting him be right.
“I’m workin’ on getting settled. It’s easy when you have a handsome cowboy to help along the way.”
It comes out like word vomit. Between the wine and the nerves coursing through your entire being, you can’t help but admit your little crush on the man. You slap your free hand over your forehead, admitting defeat before he can even respond. You knew he would take the comment and run with it.
“You always flirt with your friends, sweetheart?” He was toying with you, which was a good sign. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t call you such a thing.
You smile, releasing your face from your hand. His eyes are tracing every curve of your face, a subtle pass that you did not capture quickly enough.
“Only ones that fix my toilets.”
And then, he kisses you. It happens so quickly, that you don’t fully grasp that it’s happening until you're molding your lips into his. Once your buzzed brain picks up the fact that the man you have been crushing on is kissing you, he pulls away. Your eyes are still closed, your hands still gripping onto your wine glass.
He huffs loudly and stands up quickly. Once you place your eyes on him, he’s pacing around the back deck stairs, not too far from where you’re sitting. You instantly bite back the urge to ask him what’s wrong, because there’s always something wrong.
“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I should’na done that.”
He instantly regretted it. The thought made your throat tighten. He continues to walk back and forth, causing a draft.
“It’s fine, Joel. I’m n-not mad.”
He shakes his head, halting his robot-like movements. He finally looks at your pitiful expression and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman, kissing you on the first date.”
You watch as he places his hands on his hips, contemplating his whole life right before your eyes. You realize he is too traditional to see that nowadays, people are sleeping together on the first date. First base is nothing. You rest your glass on a decrepit table next to you and stand up.
You slowly approach him, trying to catch a glance from him, but he continues to avert his eyes. You grow bold enough to tilt his chin towards you, letting your guard down for a moment.
“You’re such a gentleman, it hurts,” you whisper, slowly letting a smirk grow across your face. The comment makes his shoulders lower, finally relaxing from such a heated moment.
“Just don’t wanna mess this up with ya,” He murmurs, only letting you and the nearby fireflies hear you, “I enjoy spending time with you.”
You slowly lower your hand to your side, trying to act casually about the confession. But the truth is you want to run and wake up every cow and horse within a 10-mile radius with a squeal of delight.
“I like spending time with you, too, Joel.”
He takes your hand as you say it, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. His breath is hot on the back of your hand before he says, “Well now, I quite like the sound of that."
taglist (some of y'all can't be tagged, I tried lol)
Summary: Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Silence kink. Size kink. Breeding kink. Age gap. Joel is a lot more experienced (!) Finger sucking. Orgasm denial. Soft dom!Joel x10000.
Word count: 1.9k
Maybe a hand was too much.
A kiss to stifle your cries, a tongue between your lips to steal any trace of a whimper before it could ever leave. Joel knew by the way your wet, pliant hole stretched wider and wider for him with each thrust that you’d eventually quiet down—but he needed silence now.
And he’d get it when he clamped his palm over your mouth. At first, your brows lifted with surprise, then pinched inward like you didn’t understand, then twitched again, involuntarily, when the head of his cock cleared a path straight toward your cervix. You whimpered into his hand and made a point to dig your heels even deeper in his back. Joel had promised he’d be better about that.
“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled.
Another stab. Another whimper, only louder this time.
“Sorry, baby, I’m—” Joel stopped to fight back a groan of his own, before pressing his palm down with even more force, “—sorry, jus’ need ya real quiet right now, okay?”
You tried to nod, but the weight and stricture of his grip were as heavy as lead against your face. Add to that the soft, sawing motions of his cock going in and out of your cunt and the nudge of his oversized tip at your cervix, and it was all you could do to just lay there and take it. Joel knew this was brand new to you—he’d been your first not too long ago and the only partner since—so he eased back and lifted his hand when you gave it a tug.
Grey stubble was already licking at the corners of your mouth with Joel’s minuscule kisses of reassurance when you giggled and squeezed him tighter between your legs:
“I’m tryin’, Joel. Really, I am,” you whispered.
“I know, sweet pea,” he whispered back, “I know.”
He took the palm he’d used to stifle your moans and smoothed it over your cheek, coming to rest at one side so he could kiss you fully. Maybe a hand was too much.
He’d inculcate restraint some other way, and if it didn’t come easy, a few more fucks on the forest floor like this one would probably do the trick. Your mouth opened up for his tongue just like your cunt would open up for more of his cum and the rest of your body would surely follow suit, learning to control the noises of pleasure as needed.
“Good girl,” Joel murmured against your lips, feeling you clench around him and expel a breath rather than whine. He withdrew himself to the tip, then plunged back in, “Such a good, perfect girl for me, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”
At length, you yelped into his mouth. You couldn’t help it. Rather than reprimand you with words or smother your lips with his palm, though, Joel kept fucking you gently.
“‘S’okay, pretty girl, it’s okay. I know that feels good.”
His mouth was next to your ear now, praises audible to no one else but you. It added a whole new dimension to your pleasure; Joel could tell from the way your walls constricted around him and choked him, sucked him in. The feeling nearly elicited a groan from his chest, but of course, he had all the resolve of a seasoned professional. Decades and decades of practice had done that for him.
“Joel,” you mewled.
Your face was screwed up in a grimace, eyes likely to be brimming with tears any second now. Joel slowed his pace once more, felt a pang of guilt for how big he felt inside you—how those decades and decades of practice set you drastically apart from each other in experience—and this time, he didn’t try to muffle your whines. He just stroked the top of your cheek with one thumb, and with the other, snaked a path between your body and his.
Admittedly, Joel was still learning about yours. He wasn’t sure if the whimpers you’d made were born wholly of pleasure or just a sense of being stretched out and filled. Because you yourself were still learning to be vocal, Joel figured he’d give the latter a stab. He started thumbing your clit in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure.
It worked, and it didn’t.
Your walls parted easily beneath the quiet ministrations of his thumb, opening yourself more to Joel’s thrusts, but they also tore a scream out of your throat—the kind that was liable to stir the leaves on every tree and alert any clicker within a two-mile radius to your presence.
The kind of outcome Joel had been trying to prevent when he’d brought you on patrol with him in the first place. The kind of sound he was trying to fuck out of your body completely; teach you to keep quiet and still for when the two of you inevitably got bored during perimeter watch and rolled the sleeping bag out to fuck.
Joel tensed above you and cast a quick look around. Sure, he’d picked a decently safe spot, but then you—
“Joel, I—”
Without thinking, the man stopped and stuck the first thing he could possibly fit in your mouth: his thumb. Whatever you’d been trying to say to him was promptly lost in a hum against his knuckle, lips enveloping the thick, callused digit like some tangy-flavored lolly. Joel’s hips sank back into yours, slowly, and he felt the reverberations of another moan spill over his finger.
He swallowed and stared. That shouldn’t have been nearly as sexy as you’d just made it seem, especially when your life and his hung in such a precarious position.
Joel dragged his cock back out and happened to graze a sensitive, spongy ridge inside you, which made you moan again. You hollowed your cheeks and gritted your teeth a bit more against his thumb, gripping Joel’s forearm for support as he continued to fuck you.
And, had you stayed like that a moment longer, you probably would’ve seen a shiny string of drool start to pool and stretch and fall out from one side of his mouth. Instead, Joel switched hands and popped the thumb that had been toying with your clit into your mouth, eyes glazed over with desire as they drank in the sight of you sucking his thumb again. The tip was still soaked with your warmth and slipped easily past your parted lips.
Another sound bubbled up your throat when you got a taste—Joel had always been in the habit of kissing you after eating you out, so you were well-acquainted with the flavor, but never had he fed you your own arousal on his finger. This felt obscene, something more than just pornographic as those deep, brown, lust-addled irises remained glued to where your lips closed around him.
“Y’like that, huh?” he said, voice reduced to a whisper once more while you nipped and suckled at the skin.
You bobbed your head to indicate yes, opened your mouth to tell him softly that you liked it so much—loved the taste and grit of his finger on your tongue, in fact. You wanted to show him you could be vocal, too, when Joel’s frame rose over yours a little more and seemed to blanket it entirely. Like he wanted to shield you, in a way.
“Shhhh, shhh…keep suckin’ like that. Stay still, okay?” Joel murmured, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that this was a test. He was nodding, rutting gently between your legs, wedging his thumb deeper inside the wet, velvety contours of your mouth and waiting for a look from you to say that you understood.
You weren’t sure if you did, but you nodded anyway. Joel’s thumb made a wonderful sort of makeshift gag as he continued to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he’d gotten sufficiently near, he pressed a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his thumb and leaking spit—and muttered something about how good you were for him, how nicely you fit around his cock. Then he tilted his hips and proceeded to pound you into the ground like an animal in heat. The only thing separating your ass from the patch of grass underneath it was a flimsy little blanket, and the only thing tethering you to earth, it seemed, was Joel’s cock. Your ankles locked behind his back, and his nose settled next to yours, breathing hard.
Even if he knew how to suppress his moans, the panting and strangled gasps were far beyond Joel’s control—as were the filthy, perverse words pouring out of his mouth.
“‘S’all mine, ain’t she, hon? Tell me this pussy’s mine.”
“Tell me she’s mine to fuck, stuff full’a cum, right here.”
And he gestured to the spot where your body stopped and his began, squelching noises punctuating each new thrust. Neither one of you minded the sound right now, especially when you knew where this was headed next.
Joel was grinning against your skin before he kissed it.
“She wants a baby, doesn’t she, honey? Wants me to put a baby in her and make that belly swell up pretty?”
You knew just as well as Joel that neither of you wanted children in a world like this—thoughts of breeding only occurred to you both when you were about to cum. Particularly when Joel’s thumb was slipping out of your mouth and his fingers were pinching either side of your face in a single grip, lips moving above yours. Making you meet his gaze as he squeezed your cheeks in a pout.
“You want my babies, baby?” Joel mumbled.
You felt a familiar twitch in his cock. You nodded.
Joel pinched harder and shook his head, unsatisfied.
“Say, ‘I want your babies, Joel.’”
“I want your babies, Joel.”
“Say, ‘I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me.’”
“I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me, please, Joel.”
Your voice was already hoarse from how low you had to whisper, how hard Joel’s broad and hefty stomach was pressing into your own, stealing the breath from your lungs and wreaking havoc on your brain as you struggled for air and imagined a world where your tummy was a little rounder. Plugged up with his cum one day and growing bigger with his child there inside you the next. The thought was dizzying in the abstract, enticing to the slightest degree in reality, and if you had to guess from the expression of the man currently sweating, grunting, and rutting into your body, you’d bet he felt the same.
It really was a shame you had to stay so quiet.
But, whether a clicker was five miles away or standing directly over his shoulder, Joel didn’t seem to care at all. Soft, silent reserve cast aside for the time being and hips slamming a bruising pace against your own, Joel seemed fine to let out sounds to show he was right about to cum. Grunts and whimpers were spilling left and right off his filthy, pretty tongue; his eyes were all but rolling back.
Truly, he couldn’t look more magnificent if he tried.
“Fuck, baby, I’m— I’m so close. Gonna fill you up.”
Featherlight clusters of soft grey hair were now darkened with sweat. They rested comfortably across his forehead. Under them, two thick brows furrowed in concentration.
“Gonna knock you up,” he added through gritted teeth.
That part was not a threat, but a promise.
You felt a tug and a pinch in your own stomach, signaling your oncoming release. You spread your legs wider for Joel, pressed a kiss to his jaw when he leaned in closer, made room for him to spill his load just how he wanted, and when it seemed he was a second from his peak—
After light the way, I am ready to jump head first into my next project but I'm stuck on which to do. Do either of these even sound interesting? I would love to hear your thoughts!
