Hi! Would you be interested in writing something with daddy Joel being a little physically aggressive (only bc he’s strong not bc he’s being mean necessarily) bc he’s so eager to get his girl off and PERHAPS she’s never squirted before and she pushes at him to stop bc she thinks she’s going to pee but she can’t get him to move bc he’s so much heavier and stronger and he knows what he’s doing so he doesn’t budge? I can’t get this out of my head I just imagine him being sooo condescending with it too omg
Sorry if this is long and too specific lol I love your writing!
Messy Girl
Warnings: 18+, smut, daddy!joel, slight ddlg undertones, unspecified age gap (only if y'all like), joel being physically aggressive, fingering, clit rubbing, overstimulation, squirting, crying, praise kink, unprotected sex
A/N: sooo sorry for the long wait anon! I'm still a bit sick, but feel a lot better so i thought i could write a request. I'm still tackling down a lot of fics that i've planned and ughhhh🥴 this was really delicious to write though, and i hope you like this anon!!!
Your big, old daddy is testing your limits today.
His weight pins you into the mattress, thick fingers already buried deep, deep inside your soaked, velvety cunt, stretching you around them in a firm constant motion.
His forearm flexes as he pumps and pumps them in and out with a wet, filthy rhythm, thumb pressing into your little nub and knuckles brushing onto that sweet, sensitive spot that makes your thighs jerk over and over again.
"Shhh, babygirl," Joel murmurs, voice low. "Daddy's got you. Daddy's got his baby. Just let it happen, honey."
You're already crying—soft, small hiccuping sobs that shake in your chest—because it's too much, too fast, too overstimulating for your poor little cunt, and you've never ever felt anything like this.
Oh and Joel knows you've never felt this way before.
Your hands can only push weakly at his shoulders, and he won't move. Solid, immovable, pinning you completely under him, every ounce of his strength focused on squeezing another orgasm out of you.
"Daddy—please, I-I think I'm gonna—" Your voice cracks as fresh tears slip down your temples. The pressure in your belly is so unbearable, a hot, insistent throb that presses and presses. "I'm gonna pee, I can't—"
Joel's free hand slides up, palm broad and calloused, and presses firmly right below your belly button. The heel of it sinks into the soft flesh of your tummy, and the sensation makes your whole body jolt against him.
"S'okey, baby. You ain't gonna pee. That's not what's happenin'." He places a kiss on your forehead. "You're gonna squirt for Daddy, that's all. My messy girl just needs a little help."
His fingers curl again, scissoring them inside you, and the wet sound is obscene—slick, squelching, constant. Your thighs tremble around his wrist, trying to close, but he's wedged between them, hips braced wide so you can't escape the relentless drag of his knuckles.
Every thrust and rub makes your clit throb oversensitive, swollen and aching, you can feel how puffy your folds are, how they cling to his fingers on every pull.
"T-too much," you whimper, voice breaking. Fresh tears spill, hot, salty, melting into your hair. "Daddy, please, I can't—"
He hushes you again, leaning down so his beard brushes your cheek, breath warm against your ear.
"You can, honey. You're doin' so good for me." He murmurs, his free hand going behind your head and making you look at his fingers disappearing in your hole. "Pretty cunt takin' my fingers like it was made for 'em. So tight, so wet—fuck, listen to you."
He punctuates the words with a particularly deep, hard thrust, and a gush of slick spills out around his knuckles, soaking the sheet beneath you.
"Oh—" you gasp, your hands fist into his flannel shirt, tugging, but it's useless.
He's too damn heavy, too solid, and he knows it.
The knowledge sits in his pretty brown eyes when he pulls back just enough to watch your face; dark, patient, maybe a little amused.
"Push all you want, babygirl. Ain't movin' till you give it to me."
The pressure crests then again, sharper this time, and your back arches hard off of the bed.
Joel's hand on your tummy presses down firmer and firmer, pinning you, making the overstimulation worse. The combination—his fingers stroking that spongy spot inside you, the weight of his palm, his body lying on top of you—snaps something loose.
"There she goes."
You sob his name as it hits, a sudden, violent rush that sprays out around his fingers in a hot, messy arc. It soaks the sheets, splashes up his wrist, wets his pants and keeps coming and coming in pulsing, squelching waves while your cunt clenches desperately around him.
Joel groans low in his chest, the sound filthy and approving. "There it is. That's my girl. Look how much you had in ya, so messy."
But he doesn't stop.
His fingers keep moving, slower now but still deep, working you through every aftershock until you're a twitching and whimpering mess.
The overstimulation burns, sharp and electric, every nerve raw and singing. You try to twist away but his body keeps you caged, your hips shifting just enough to grind the heel of his palm against your clit on every stroke.
"Shhh, I know," he soothes. "Daddy's too strong for you, ain't he? Can't get away even if you wanted to. And you don't really want to, do you? Feels too good, havin' your old man ruin that pretty pussy."
Your answer is a broken moan, hips jerking helplessly as another smaller gush leaks out around his fingers.
Joel chuckles, low and warm, finally easing his hand free.
Your cunt flutters around nothing, empty, aching, slick dripping down the cleft of your ass to join the wet patch beneath you.
He shifts his weight then, one knee nudging your thigh wider, and the blunt head of his cock nudges against your entrance suddenly.
He's thick, hot, the ridge catching on your swollen folds as he rocks forwards just enough to tease.
You shake your head immediately, a whine of protest leaving your lips. "S'too much, daddy..."
"S'okey, honey. You're okay. We're gonna do that again," he murmurs, and your stomach flips. "But this time, i'm gonna fuck it out of you. Fill you up all nice and slow, and make you squirt on my cock, over and over till you can't think straight. Ya hear me, sweet girl?"
You can't do anything but nod, tears still clinging to your lashes, body trembling under him.
This overstimulation in your body has you floaty, every sensation now amplified: the drag of his cockhead through your slick, the way his chest hair rasps against your nipples when he leans down, the steady press of his hand still splayed across your tummy because he owns it.
Joel pushes in slow, the stretch burning sweet and so, so deep, making your walls flutter around him, still so sensitive from the earlier release.
He groans when he bottoms out, hips flush to yours, and stays there for a moment, rubbing your little clit, letting you feel every inch.
"Theere we go, just take me. You're so tight, honey." he breathes. "Even after all that, still squeezin' me like you don't wanna let go."
When he starts to move—it's long, deliberate strokes that grind against every oversensitive spot inside you.
Each thrust punches little gasps and pitiful whimpers from your throat, and the wet sound of your cunt taking him is louder now, slick and messy from everything he's already pulled out of you.
His hand stays on your belly, thumb stroking soothing circles even as his hips snap harder, driving you up the bed.
"Gonna make you squirt again," he promises, voice rough with effort. "Gonna feel you gush around my cock, soak the both of us. And you're gonna take it, 'cause Daddy knows what you need better than you do."
Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in, but there's no fight left—just the overwhelming rush of sensation as he fucks you through the overstimulation, each thrust pushing you closer to that same unbearable edge.
Joel's voice stays in your ear the whole time, sweet and condescending, praising and guiding you through every wave until you're sobbing his name again and again while the sheets are ruined completely beneath you.
This makes me kinda want to write a piss kink fic but...I already got so much hate for writing fauxcest im a LITTLE traumatised😭😭
Summary: An arranged marriage leaves Emperor Geta and his empress emotionally distant despite the quiet longing for one another.
The palace was never quiet.
Even in the latest hours of the evening, there were always footsteps echoing through marble corridors, servants whispering behind pillars, senators lingering like ghosts under the torchlight. Rome breathed constantly around the imperial household, yet your chambers were silent.
You sat in front of the bronze mirror while your attendants carefully loosened the golden pins from your hair one by one. Thick strands tumbled over your shoulders as the women worked quietly around you, pouring oils into the bath behind the silk divider.
The marriage had lasted nearly eight months.
Eight months of polite distance.
Eight months of careful glances.
Eight months of sharing a bedchamber large enough to keep two lonely people worlds apart.
Geta had never been cruel to you, that almost made things worse.
Cruelty would have been easier to understand. Instead, your husband was restrained. In ways nobody in Rome expected from him. The senate feared his temper, servants were shaking in front of him, generals bowed their heads the moment he entered a room, yet with you, he was almost painfully careful.
You often caught him watching you across banquet hall and during senate feasts.
Probably the most notable is when he watched you in bed, when he believed you were asleep. But the moment your eyes met his, he always looked away and you did the same.
“Your Majesty,” one servant spoke to you. “The bath is prepared.”
You nodded. The women helped you from your robes before disappearing from the chambers entirely, leaving only flickering candlelight and the sound of water.
At last, alone.
You stepped into the bath with a sigh, the warmth immediately wrapped around your body. Rose oil shimmered across the surface while steam curled lazily toward the painted ceiling.
You rested there until the doors opened.
Geta entered dressed in dark robes, gold embroidery glinting in the candlelight. He looked exhausted, his shoulders were tense, his curls slightly disordered as though he had run his hands through them all evening.
He stopped the moment he noticed you in the bath and immediately, he looked away.
“My apologies, I did not realise you were still awake.”
“You do not need permission to enter your own chambers.”
His jaw moved slightly at that. Those words between you again.
Your chambers.
Your palace.
Your marriage.
Everything shared and yet untouched.
Geta moved toward the table near the balcony, pouring wine into a goblet, he still would not look directly at you.
“You should sleep, tomorrow will be a long day.”
“You say that every night.”
At that, he finally glanced at you.
Only briefly, but still enough to make your pulse quicken.
“I suppose I do.”
Silence returned.
You hated it suddenly. You hated the distance. Hated the endless restraint. Hated how both of you circled one another like strangers despite sharing every hour of the day. Before courage could abandon you, you decided to speak up.
“Would you join me?”
The words nearly disappeared into the steam.
Geta froze. The goblet remained halfway to his lips as he slowly turned toward you.
“What?”
You suddenly wished Rome would collapse and bury you beneath it.
“In the bath,” you clarified softly, unable to meet his eyes now. “You seem tired.”
For a long moment, he said nothing.
You could hear your own heartbeat. Then he set the goblet down.
“You wish for my company?”
The question sounded genuine.
Not teasing. Not arrogant.
He sounded almost confused.
“Yes.”
Another long silence filled the room before he finally approached the bath slowly. You watched him loosen the gold clasps at his chest. His imperial robes slipped from broad shoulders before he folded them neatly nearby with surprising care. He entered the water opposite you.
Neither of you spoke.
Geta rested his arms along the edge of the bath, eyes fixed somewhere near the water rather than on you.
“You have never asked me for anything before,” he admitted quietly. You traced your fingertips through the water.
“You have never asked me either.”
“That was intentional.”
“Why?”
His eyes lifted to yours at last, because you were close now, truly close for perhaps the first time since your wedding, you could finally see what usually hid underneath his composure.
“I did not want this marriage forced onto you more than it already was. You lost your home because of Rome. Because of me.”
Your chest ached unexpectedly.
“And you?” you asked softly. “Did you want it?”
“When does an emperor marry for love?”
The answer should have felt cold. Instead, it sounded lonely. The feared emperor of Rome sitting quietly across from you in warm water and candlelight, looking more uncertain than dangerous.
“You never frightened me,” you confessed. “They all seem terrified of you, but whenever you looked at me… you looked frightened instead.”
“You are my wife.”
“As if that explains anything.”
“It explains everything.”
Geta leaned back slightly, watching you through the steam.
“You are the only person in this palace who looks at me like a man instead of a throne.”
Geta went still again as you reached for his hand under the surface. His fingers twitched once before carefully intertwining with yours.
Neither of you spoke for a while after that.
You simply sat together in the candlelight, holding hands under the rose-scented water, you could hear his breathing and you were sure he could hear your heartbeat. Geta was the first to speak up.
“I think I have wanted this for a very long time.”
You looked at him.
“A bath?”
For the first time since you had known him, your husband laughed. The sound transformed him entirely.
“No,” he murmured, thumb brushing carefully across your knuckles. “You.”
Prompt: Back rubs for back pain
Pairs: silva x wife!reader
Request
Word count: 2,7K
The clean and fresh sheets cover the mattress of your wooden bed as you make it perfectly to wait for your husband to get back from taking care of his beloved horses. Dinner is ready, you already took a shower and now you'll lie down to wait for him, knowing he will get home too tired.
You met Silva five years ago when he was in your town to sell a horse and also buy a few supplements at the store where you worked. After a few dates, not too romantic, he is more of a rough cowboy. That's how you call him. And with the distance from the ranch where you both lived to the town, you decided to become a housewife. Not what you dreamt of, but it was quiet and you helped him a lot.
The wooden stairs outside creak, and you hear the sound of Silva's boots thudding against the floor. He cleans his boots on the rug at the front porch and opens the door. He knows you hate it when he enters the house with dirty boots. Soon he appears at the door, looking inside the small room.
“Good evenin', my lady” he grins.
“Good evenin', my lord” you chuckle, getting out of bed and walking to him. “There is food for you inside the oven, let me heat it up for you, go take a shower.”
“Are you saying I smell bad?” he pretends to be offended.
“Never” you shake your head, looking into his eyes, and start to unbutton his red plaid shirt.
“I mean, I spent the whole day in the middle of the horses” he kisses your lips.
“Go, so you can get some rest” you slap his butt.
Silva goes straight to the bathroom inside your bedroom, and you hear the shower running from the kitchen, where you heat his food. You made him meatloaf with vegetables from your garden. In a few minutes you feel the strong scent of his soap and shampoo and his warm arms around your waist from behind.
“Hum, my favorite” he whispers in your ear and you shiver.
“Yes, I'm in a great mood and you deserve it today” you smile.
“I did behave” he kisses your neck.
Your husband sits at the table, and you place his plate in front of him. It's not every day that you spoil him like this, but Wednesdays are too hard physically. And he is a really wonderful husband, you have nothing to complain about. You sit with him and both of you share a bit about your days. Tomorrow you'll go to town to visit your parents, and he will go with you.
Before heading to bed, you and your husband tidy up the kitchen, brush your teeth and you put your pyjamas on, as he undresses to sleep. That's how he prefers to sleep. Silva lies by your side, your bodies pressed up against one another. He groans when he moves to hug you.
“How's your back, baby?” you turn your head to face him.
“A little worse than last week” his face contorts in pain.
“Oh, baby! You have to see a doctor” you stroke the bare skin of his chest.
“Yes, I'll see if I can schedule an appointment tomorrow” he moans, turning to the side.
“Come here, turn onto your tummy, let me take care of you” you kiss his shoulder and then push him and sit on the back of his thigh, the fabric of your shorts skimming over his big butt.
First your palms slide up slowly from the small of his back to his ribcage and then his shoulders. You feel his back vibrating from the moan he lets out at the feeling of your warm hands over his tense muscles. And you feel it, the tension dissipating as your thumbs press gently on specific spots.
“Oh, God” he whispers.
Silva's eyes roll back as you apply a bit more pressure to the lower part of his back. Too many knots, you feel each and every one of them. He contorts from the pain, but you soothe him by rubbing your hands gently. Going up once more. Your husband's body is twitching.
“How are you feeling, my love?” you ask, hands moving up to his broad shoulders.
“Perfect, you always get it right, honey” he reaches his hand back to stroke your thigh.
The redness that your movements leave on his skin gets deeper. All the right spots are massaged with precision. And you admire your husband's broad back, moving up and down heavily, just like his breathing. Silva falls asleep, it is inevitable, he was too tired and he loves your massages.
You lie by his side, your back to him and he shifts positions, hugging you from behind. His big and warm figure envelops you, his heavy arm rests on your waist and his face settles against your neck. The hot breath makes your hair move. This is the perfect night, and every night is like this one with Silva.
With your head on his shoulder and your arm on his belly, you wake up with his scent inebriating you. His heart is beating slowly under your palm. The sunrise is already spilling through the gaps in the window. You both are barely covered by the sheets, and you spot his morning erection, looking up at his face, peaceful, unaware of your sinful thoughts.
For a moment you just stay there, fingers moving around softly on his chest. Before his eyes even open, there is already a smile on his face. The arm that is under your head pulls you even closer and the other hand lifts your face to his, giving you slow and gentle pecks on the lips. The smile never leaves his face.
Slowly your hands stroke his chest, only to get to his belly, caressing it with all the love and care you have for this man. And of course you can't resist. There it is. Continuing its way down, your fingers find his bush and you start to play around with it.
“Can I?” you ask, biting your lower lip and looking up.
Your husband just nods, pulling your face to him again, kissing you. This time it is deeper, exploratory. He spreads his legs slightly and your hands grip his length. Slowly you stroke him up and down. Like your mornings usually are, unhurried. Silva moans into your mouth and you continue, finding a rhythm and maintaining it.
The strokes get a bit faster and your other hand reaches down to his balls, massaging them. He breaks the kiss only to look down at your hands, watching mesmerized as you work hard on his cock, your thumb spreading his pre-cum all over the tip. One of his hands finds your butt, squeezing it as the other fists the sheets and his groans become louder.
“Baby” you whisper. “You are so big in my hands, so good, how come I have this at home? How lucky am I?”
Your praises are followed by your movements getting a little faster. He gasps and groans. His chest glows with sweat, just like you love it, enjoying the moment to lick it and taste the salt. Silva's breath is ragged, his groans are desperate, and he pulses in your hand. Every slide.
“I'm coming, my love” he whispers, moaning. “I'm coming.”
“Come for me, baby” you whisper back in his ear, biting his earlobe.
All the muscles in his body tense up, his cock pulses in your hands, only to relax as spurts of cum fall on his belly. Dripping on your hands as you continue to stroke him until the last drop. A low groan comes after, as his body becomes soft, eyes closing. The smile on his face is so silly that a huge grin spreads across yours.
He opens his eyes, feeling two of your fingers collecting just a bit of his cum, sucking them clean, tasting your man. A mischievous smirk is now on the corner of your lips. Nodding and humming in approval. Silva is delicious. You do it again, taking more of his cum and putting it inside his own mouth. So he can taste himself. Silva is a very free man.
“See, my love, how good you taste?” you taunt him, winking. “Now I can start my day. Stay here okay? Let me clean you up.”
Before you get out of bed, you lean your head toward his belly, sticking your tongue out and cleaning the cum, not leaving one drop behind. Only then do you walk to the bathroom, picking up a clean wet towel and coming back to find your husband sound asleep. The trip to town will be in the afternoon, you can take another nap, right?
With all the care and gentleness in the world you clean him up. Slowly and quietly so as not to wake him up. Silva always looks really peaceful when he sleeps. You lie in bed with your head on his shoulder, covering both of you with the sheets. Soon, with the peacefulness of the ranch surrounding you, you fall asleep as well.
The sun is already burning in the sky when you feel your husband's hands turning your body to face his. The hand that is on your waist goes up, stroking your cheeks and your hair. He bites his lip and smirks. Only to take off your pyjama shorts.
“Now I have to start my day right” he kisses your lips, biting your lower lip. “Can I eat your pussy the way you love?”
His words are enough to make you wet, he knows the way to you. Silva's hand pulls your leg up and supports it on his leg, opening space for his hand to find your soaked pussy. He caresses your thigh, not teasing, just showing how much he loves you. And when his thumb finds your clit, you let out a loud gasp.
Gently he circles it with the right pressure, lips kissing your neck and chest. Your hand flies to his arm, digging your nails into his shoulders. He kisses your hand, moving his finger faster, every movement making the hairs on your body stand up. The same body that is twitching in pleasure, legs trembling, moans getting louder with each second.
Silva kisses your face, your chin and gets to your mouth. His tongue exploring yours, the heat rises gradually and reaches its peak, making you scream out, biting his lip, which stretches up in a smile. Kissing you and continuing to touch you lightly, feeling your spasms.
“I want to make your cum drip from you, only so I can taste it before making you come more in my mouth” he whispers, making you shiver.
Two of his thick fingers enter you slowly, stretching you gently. His thumb is perfectly positioned in a way that allows him to touch your spot inside. It drives you insane, his perfect touch, the way he knows your body perfectly. Every inch. Silva continues pumping his fingers and circling your clit.
The orgasm hits you for the second time, your leg shaking and squeezing his thigh. Your breath comes ragged, desperate. It is just morning and he is already so inspired and so devoted. Once you get back to your senses and look at your husband's face, there it is, the smirk that says it all.
As soon as your pussy stops clenching, he goes back to working his fingers from the inside to the outside. His hand is not soft, it is rough from all the hard work, but it sure is gentle. The texture is perfect for you. His kisses resume too, on your face, chest, taking your breast into his mouth, teeth grazing and the tip of his tongue working on your nipples.
The combination of touches is electric, numbing. You feel your whole body being consumed by pleasure once again. This time you are sure you reached your Nirvana. You feel only your body pulsing and trembling. A few seconds later you feel his fingers leaving you empty.
“This is my favorite sound, you know” he breathes before taking his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. “Your moans.”
Slowly he rolls you onto your back, kissing your lips, making you taste yourself. Silva smirks again as his kisses spread across your face, going down. His hand finds the hem of your shirt and peels it off, throwing it to the other side of the room. The path is now clear, and he continues, biting as well. Chest, breasts, ribs, abdomen, and at last, your inner thighs.
The hot breath that comes from his mouth makes you shiver. Silva’s teeth graze the outside of your pussy, wrapping his lips around your entrance to suck every bit of your release. The sound of him slurping your cum gets you close to an orgasm. He stops. And you hold his head in protest.
But soon, Silva resumes with his tongue sliding up from the place he was sucking to your clit, sucking it lightly and licking it with the tip of his tongue, you moan loudly and your hands hold his hair, pulling it gently. Your hypersensitive pussy is begging for a fourth climax.
And that is exactly what happens when your husband licks your folds and sucks your clit, in and out, without letting it go, making you wild, coming for him, harder. The sparks that run up your body make you tremble. Thighs clamping his face.
He laughs against your sensitive skin, loving the feeling of your thighs squeezing his face, of your pussy clenching, and your moans. So sweet. So perfect. So his.
Silva's lips wrap around your clit, sucking it again, soothing it with a long and slow lick. The texture of his tongue makes everything more intense. Your grip on his hair tightens as you feel his two fingers entering you.
"Fuck, baby" you breathe "Keep going. Just like this"
The pace picks up, his sucks becoming more intense and his fingers pumping deeper. His free hand slides up, taking your breast and holding it, index finger playing with your nipple.
It doesn't take long for you to scream out his name. Body convulsing. Pussy pulsing and squeezing his fingers. The ones he takes out and replaces with his tongue, drinking you again. He needs your cum to survive.
"Can you do just one more?" his eyes find yours, still licking slowly
There's no strength to even speak, so you simply nod and let your head burie in the pillow. Your husband's tongue enters you and starts to thrust inside you. Warm. His thumb presses and circles your clit. The other hand now finds your ass, his finger teasing it.
It's too much. You shatter for the sixth time, clenching on his tongue, just as your asshole pulses under his touch. You scream weakly now. And he kisses your pussy gently, just as your inner thighs.
Your body is too tired now, not a single thought can run through your head except your fatigue. Yet Silva isn’t done with you, he kisses his way up to your face, spreading kisses all over. Finding your lips later, kissing you deeply. His big hands turn you to the side and he lies behind you, his cock hard against your ass cheek.
Silva’s arm slides around your waist, pulling you closer to him while his cock enters you slowly, inch by inch you feel the stretch and the head drawing on your walls. You squeeze his cock and Silva groans. He pulls you so close that you both almost become one.
The free hand roams around your body and finds your clit, stimulating you again as he thrusts slowly, deep but slowly. The warmth of his body against yours is everything, and the praises he whispers in your ear make you melt every single time:
“You’re so beautiful, baby”
“You’re the best wife in this world”
“You’re hot”
“How tight you are”
“I love you so much”
“You feel so good”
His thrusts continue deep and slow, steady. Your clit being stimulated just the way that gets you to the edge, his cock hitting your G-spot every single time. The moans and groans mingling. The muscles of his arms flex with every movement and the strength of his grip.
The scream the two of you let out is synchronized, just as the orgasm. You feel his cum fill your pussy, warm, his cock pulsing and the thrusts losing their rhythm. Silva feels your pussy clenching, squeezing his cock as your cum mixes with his, your nails digging into his skin. Your husband clamps his legs against yours, adding pressure, prolonging your climax and the grip of your pussy on his cock.
Silva continues holding you close, this time not that strongly, only enough for you to get back to your senses together. Breaths ragged and hearts racing, getting slower and controlled as time passes and you’re still cuddling. His cock getting soft inside of you, slipping out. And you feel his cum drip from your pussy onto the clean sheets.
“How’s your back feeling?” you giggle
“Way better” he rubs his nose on your shoulder “Your massage and your pussy are the best medicine for any of my pain”
“Oh, baby, you’re so perfect” you shift to face him “I was scared you might get hurt again”
“Never” he kisses your lips “You are the best I’ve ever had, honey”
context: A major heatwave hits Jackson and Joel comes home to you naked in bed. He just can’t help himself :(
warnings: TABOO SUBJECTS, large legal age gap, MAJOR DUBCON, somnophila, unprotected sex, slight fingering, touchy Joel, pet names, pervy Joel, fauxcest, NONCON? (Reader doesn’t know it’s Joel for a few seconds and tries to fight him off but stops once she realizes it’s Joel :3)
plink inspo
Not proof read!
It was burning in Jackson. The scorching sun beamed all day and the heat continued to linger at night. You woke up every night with a heavy layer of sweat even if you didn’t sleep with any blankets.
You asked Joel to trade some of his cigarettes for a fan if he could but that old man loves his cigarettes. It was a plain no of course.
You weren’t really sure what your relationship was with Joel. Love interest, friends, bane of your existence, a father figure? It felt like a little of all four.
Joel has been out scavenging with his brother and a few other people from Jackson. They’d find abandoned buildings and try their best to find something of value to bring back to Jackson.
It’s been about 2 days with the house to yourself. Calm and quiet, just like you like it. With this rare moment of solitude mixed with the scorching heat, you took pleasure in sleeping naked. It really did help.
The thin shirt and undies you wore when Joel was around still felt like hell in this stuffy home. But with nothing on you swore there was a slight cold breeze that was just enough to not wake up every few hours in a sweat.
It was late at night when Joel’s heavy boots echoed threw the house. Everything but the creaking of the rusty wood floors was silent. Joel sighed as he placed the dingy looking fan he found in a hospital down and stretched with a groan.
It was heavy for a peice of plastic.
He looked around and was pleased that you didn’t leave any plates in the sink like you usually do. Joel hates his home looking a mess but maybe all those scoldings finally went through your thick skull.
It made the fact that he got you this stupid fan a little bit better.
Joel picked the fan up with a sigh “better appreciate this damn fan” he grunted as he walked up the stairs.
When he opened your door, his knuckles went white as he squeeze the bottom of the fan. Joel’s eyes went wide like he’s seen something he wasn’t supposed to see.
You laid peacefully in your bed with nothing on. No covers, no blankets, just your naked form. Quiet breaths left your lips as you hugged onto your teddy bear. You had one leg raised with your arms wrapped around the stuffed animal.
Your cunt was on display for Joel’s eyes. Everything was on display. “God all mighty” Joel huffed under his breath as he placed the stupid fan down.
He couldn’t ignore the painful erection growing in pants even if he tried. He stood in place, not knowing wether to walk out and shut the door or take a better look, maybe even a feel.
His heavy palm moved down to his pants. He tried squeezing the bulge back down but it only made it worse.
He could feel his tongue salivating, his chest heaving as he just stood there. Unmoving.
His boots made their way to the end of your bed. He kneeled at the corner, coming eye to eye with your plush cunt as he stared. He didn’t touch, didn’t move a muscle. He just kneeled there like a pervert taking in the scene.
Your pretty cunt plush and wet with a coat of slick and sweat. The room was a bit warm but the open window brought in a cool breeze. Joel licked his lips.
Don’t touch Joel told himself. He flinched as your hips bucked back, a muffled whimper leaving your lips as you squirmed in your sleep. The noise made Joel let out a heavy breath.
He was disgusting for this. Everyone in town saw you as his daughter, but nothing he’s doing is fatherly. It’s sinful.
But he told himself he wasn’t your father because he wasn’t after all. He took you under his wing for reasons still unknown to him. So it wouldn’t hurt right? It wouldn’t break his code of honor?
Joel gave in. He raised his fingers up to your cunt slowly. He brushed against your lips slowly, spreading them apart and dipping in ever so slight. Just enough for you to coat his fingers so he could get a taste.
Joel moaned as he sucked on his fingers. You taste so delicious.
“S’made for me” Joel whispered to himself, now getting up from his knees and back on his feet. He reached for his belt without hesitation. You were a deep sleeper right? He remembers that about you.
He slid out of his jeans and out his boxers. His tip was angry and red as he tugged at his dick a bit. A groan left his mouth as he bit his lip “pretty little thing”
The bed shifted under Joel’s weight as he adjusted himself behind you. He didn’t try and fix your position, you were comfortable and he didn’t want to change that.
You were in the perfect position actually. Easy access for him.
Joel slapped his tip on your folds. He was slow and steady with his movements. His head fell onto your shoulder as he fucked through your folds. His breath fanned onto your skin, his lips slobbering all over you.
“S’ good baby. Heaven.” Joel whispered. You light snored as he reached for your tits. Joel was dizzy, he felt like he was about to pass out.
His dick fucked through your folds as he kissed onto your shoulder with one hand playing with your nipple. How you still asleep, joel had no idea.
Joel seethed as he finally pushed into your warm pussy “Jesus” he choked. He moved slowly with his eyes trained on your face, careful to not wake you up.
“My pretty little doll” he whispered as he moved a strand of hair out of your face. Joel’s thrusts got heavier as he spread your ass with his thumbs and watched in a trance.
His dick was coated in a thick layer of white slick, you were so damn warm. “F- feel so fucking goo- oh honey” Joel moaned a little too loud.
Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of a heavy weight above you. It only took a seconds before your mind began to realize what was going on. As you were about to squirm, a hand wrapped around your mouth.
You could feel them fucking deep into your guts as they squeeze your mouth shut.
You yelled into the palm as you tried to get away “hey hey kid s’ me, s’ Joel. Came home to you like this and could- couldn’t help myself sweetheart. M’sorry”
Your body relaxed as Joel’s voice came from behind you. Joel let his hand slip a bit from your mouth, just enough to let you speak but also enough to be able to keep you quiet.
“Joel?” You groggily asked. “Mmhm” Joel replied with his dick still moving in and out of you. “Feels so good daddy” you whined as he rocked you into your plushies.
“Oh yeah baby? You like me deep in your tummy?” Joel cooed. He smiled at your words, you liked this.
You hummed in agreement as you clung to his flannel from behind. “C’mon baby turn around f’me, wanna see that pretty face” he cooed. You did as told and shifted yourself into missionary “that’s it baby”
He wasted no time and pushed back into you without hesitation. You mewled at the stretch, Joel had your legs spread open as he fuck himself nice and snug.
Your head was thrown back as spit pooled out of your mouth, he just felt so damn good. “Made my little girl go stupid yea? Look at you honey” Joel smiled as he ran his hands down your chest and back up to play with your nipples.
“Feel so good Joel. Love it so much” you cooed as he fucked into you at rhythmic pace. Joel hummed at your confession, you liked it just as much as he did.
He could tell by the way your eyes lulled back into your skull and your cunt talked back to him that you were enjoying this maybe even more than him.
And that’s because you were. The feeling of Joel’s thick dick slipping in and out of you while your still coming out of sleep was making you dizzy. The weight of his body on yours, his hands touching and rubbing all over your body has your pussy gushing round him.
“Love it pa, s’good” you cried out. Joel grunted and moaned with each thrust he gave you. You were so fucking wet and gushing all over his thighs. “Yeah baby? Love your pa all deep in your guts? Like him waking you up with a hand wrapped around your mouth and dick deep in your tummy?”
All you could do was nod at his words. It was all so overwhelming. “Yeah? Yeah you love it huh kiddo?” Joel cooed as he felt you pulsing around him. “Yes yess” you squealed out as Joel picked up the pace.
A wretched moan spilled from your lips as you came. Your whole body shook in pleasure as Joel came right after you but he didn’t stop. He fucked himself to the point of overstimulation as he watched his cum spilling out of your cunt from where you both connected.
“Jus’ like tha- oh yeah kiddo jus like that” Joel moaned into your mouth as you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him forward and pushing him to the hilt. Joel’s dick twitched as he spilled his loads into your cunt. His eyes were completely white by the way he rolled his eyes back.
Both of you were covered in a thick layer of sweat as you both came down from your highs. Joel pulled out of you with a softness so different than seconds ago.
18+ MDNI | popstar-bodyguard!Joel Miller x fem-popstar!reader (called 'Misty') | series | 1.6k
Misty is back again for the North American leg of the Love in Motion: The Tour. 6 cities, 14 shows, each with its own challenges and events that only bring her and her new bodyguard closer.
Genre fluff, angst, eventual smut, popstar bodyguard AU, no outbreak AU
TW/CW innuendos, no Y/n (uses her stage name only: Misty), OOC Joel Miller (because it's important for the ✨plot✨), profanities, age gap (no specific age, he's just older than her)
Note there's no taglist for this series
m.list | series m.list
Ben said yes. Ben had agreed to include some acoustic songs into your new album. He even agreed to let you play the guitar on the tour for that new album. But there was a catch, he wanted to hear your demos before pitching it to the company.
It wasn't a big deal, you decided. You'd done demos while being on tour before.
As for the elephant in the room, the kiss with Joel and what was to become of your relationship with him—if you could even call it that—well, you never talked about it beyond what was discussed in Atlanta.
It wasn't because either of you didn't want to talk about it, no. You both were simply too busy sucking each other's faces to talk about it. Any chance you could get where you were left alone with Joel would automatically be used by you to jump on Joel's lap and suck on his lips.
The first few kisses were done with the facade that you needed to destress because of your new album. But afterwards, all reasons were thrown out the window for the sake of tasting his lips.
Unlucky for you, when Ben demanded for the demos of your new album, he meant he wanted you to record it ASAP. That was the reason why you were cooped up in Ben's room along with Ben himself and the producers instead of going out with Joel on your days off. The producers droned on and on and on about how to execute the ideas you have, using the recordings you just finished earlier today, while you let out your fifth yawn in the last hour.
"These are just demos. I think we can polish it after the company agrees," you voiced out your opinion.
Ben nodded in agreement. "Of course. But we still have more demos to make."
"That's easy. I can record even when I'm alone. I'll send the recordings to you." By this point, you were just saying anything you could to make Ben and the producers leave you alone.
And leave you alone they did. After a few more minutes of reassuring that everything would be okay and that they didn't need to work too hard on demos, they finally bid their goodbyes.
You, too, were about to leave, standing up from your seat once the door closed behind your producers when Ben stopped you with a hold on your arm. "Wait, Misty."
You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious of what he would say or make you do. "What?"
Ben let go of your arm and patted your previous seat. "It's nothing bad, I promise. I just want to talk about the brand deal."
"Oh." You sat back down. "What about it?"
"They'll need you to kiss," Ben dropped the bomb right away. "In the ad."
You raised an eyebrow. That was new. Usually brands requested for you to dance while also teasing your new song, or say their tagline, or something. A kiss was too personal. Lips were one of the most intimate body parts.
"Yeah," Ben said after seeing your reaction. "A kiss."
"You mean I'll kiss someone? Or just blowing a kiss?" You already could guess the answer. Ben wouldn't had told you about this had it been a flying kiss.
Ben nodded. "Someone. A model. Their model. Are you still down?"
You knew their model, you had used their products after all. He was hot, the typical pretty boy hot, but you wouldn't mind kissing him for an ad. But you were sure he wouldn't be half as good as Joel.
"Just once, right?"
Ben nodded. "Of course." Then Ben added in a joking manner, "They need to pay if they want you to kiss them more times."
"Ben," you whined his name before bursting into laughter.
"But seriously, Misty. You need to practice. Make sure you only need to kiss him once and get it right on the first try."
You tossed your hair behind your shoulder. "Easy." You hesitated whether you could tell Ben about your situation with Joel, but then decided against it.
"Alright." Ben slapped his knee, a signal that he was ending the conversation. "I guess you'll need to practice with the back of your hand. I'll leave you to it."
Giddy that Ben finally let you go, you jumped up from your seat and made your way to the door. "See you on day one of the show."
Once the door closed behind you, you skipped your way to Joel's room, eager to start the practice right away with him. "There's no way I'm practicing with my hand," you mumbled to yourself as your hand rapped against Joel's door.
Joel didn't even have the chance to open the door wide enough before you pushed your way in. "I have a great news!" you said as you plopped yourself on the couch and made yourself at home there.
"What news?" he asked, closing the door before standing in front of you with his hands on the hips.
"I need to practice kissing for the ad." You shot up from your seat and stepped closer to him. "That means I can do this more often." Standing on your tip toes, you held his face in your hands.
Your lips were about to touch before Joel took a hold of your shoulders and pushed you back. "Wait."
Your face fell. "What?"
"What did you say about ad and practice?"
Let go of his face, you sighed. "Ben said the brand deal requires me to shoot an ad. In that ad, I'll need to kiss someone. Their model, according to Ben."
Joel raised an eyebrow, the exact same reaction you gave Ben just minutes ago. "And?"
"I have to practice kissing. To make sure I'll only have to kiss this guy once." You cupped his face in your hands again. "I'm planning to do it with you."
This time you succeeded planting a kiss on his lips, but were stopped again when you began to insert your tongue pass his lips.
"Wait, Misty. This is professional work. You're practicing."
"Then? What's the problem?" You let go of his face again, frustrated. You had been thinking about his lips since Ben mentioned about kissing and Joel was acting difficult since you mentioned about this ad.
"I'm not professional, princess." He shook his head, staring at the ground as if it could help him.
"Who cares? Who the hell is a professional at kissing?" For a few seconds, he didn't say anything. "Hm?"
"No one," he grumbled.
"Exactly. Plus, I'd rather have you as my practice partner than one of the guys in my band or even the back of my hand." When Joel looked at you with head cocked to the side, you added, "Ben's words."
It took him a few seconds to respond. He heaved a sigh. "This is not ideal. The hand thing is more professional than me."
"But it's boring. And I've lived past ideal anyways."
"We're supposed to only kiss when you're stressed."
"I am stressed. Is this not about work?"
He didn't even get to let out another sigh before you planted your lips on his again. "Stop." Peck. "Stressing." Peck. "Start." Peck. "Kissing."
Joel kissed you back equally as hard as you had been kissing him. His tongue danced against yours in a way that was almost inappropriate, but with him, it felt right. The kiss only lasted seconds as usual and still left you breathless and smiling wide just like the first time.
This progression in your relationship with Joel made the entire process of recording demos and writing lyrics much effortless. And when the D-day of your show arrived, soundcheck and the concert itself went absolutely great which got you an idea for your very last show of this tour.
"Ben, hear me out." You had been chasing after him since the show ended, wanting to let him know your great idea before any of you left the venue.
Ben was supposed to be talking to some staff members to make sure that tomorrow's show would go as smooth. But when he heard your voice coming from behind, he turned around. "Yes, Misty?"
"I have an idea for my last show." Your cheeks began to hurt from smiling to hard, your hands went up to rub on them gently.
"What is it?"
"I'm going to wear a robe with lingerie underneath in my last song. And just before the last chorus, I'll open my robe and reveal the lingerie just for a split second."
"And why is that?"
You shrugged. "A surprise for my fans. What do you think?"
"Good." Ben nodded in agreement. "That way, your fans will love you more and you'll get attention on social media."
You couldn't help but break into a grin. "I know right."
"I'll talk to your stylist so they can get your lingerie and robe ready." Ben walked off without waiting for your response.
"Misty." A voice could be heard coming from behind you.
You turned around and came face to face with your bodyguard. His jaws were clenched tight and biceps were straining against the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
"What?" you asked.
"I don't think that's a good idea. Imagine the scandal that will follow."
"What scandal?"
"That you're practically naked on stage. Is that not a scandal?" With how much his voice was strained, you guessed his veins could pop any time.
"Relax. I'm not going to reveal everything. Probably just showing my shoulder a bit and that's it." You patted his shoulder, feeling his taut muscle, before walking off to remove your makeup.
A/N: Just a smutty little drabble, no plot! I normally hold myself to a rule not to write Pbois if I haven't watched them, but as a thank you 🎁 to @kokoluwie for making this amazing gifset, I had to break it 🥰 Thank you for fulfilling my request and all your amazing gifs and edits from the Behemoth! trailer - we all benefit from your talent!! xoxox
Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls), established relationship, fingering, nicknames.
Dividers by @saradika-graphics ty😘😘
As soon as the front door closes behind him, Alex breaks from your heated, messy kiss and whispers your favourite words,
“Let me play you, darling.”
Giggling, you toe off your shoes and extend your hand to place onto top of his large palm, already upturned and reaching for you.
Both grinning dopily at one another, Alex raises your arm and spins you gracefully, much like you’ve seen him do with his cello and its endpin – a playful performance trick that never fails to awe the audience. His smooth, gentle handling of your body always has the same effect on you; by the time Alex finishes your turns, you’re in the living room, naked, all your clothes having mysteriously fallen away.
Cupping your face, Alex resumes kissing you; the press of his lips fervent, the dig of his calloused fingers firm, the pulse of his tongue against yours a testament to his restraint. You smile against his perfect lips, letting him chase yours as you turn away from him, resuming the desired position.
“What would you like to play tonight, my love? Bach? Beethoven?” you close your eyes, voice dreamy.
Alex presses himself close and hooks his chin over your shoulder, eyes darkening at the sight of the curves of your body, open and bare for him and him only; you feel him hardening against your backside. “Maybe just the fundamentals tonight,” he murmurs, hands sliding into place – one palming the swells of your breasts, the other snaking past your belly, “a musician is only as good as his foundation.”
You loll your head back against Alex’s hard chest – he makes you feel so cherished and venerated when he holds you like this, holding you like he does his most beloved instrument. Alex had once explained to you why the relationship between cello and cellist is the most intimate in all the symphony,
She sits between my legs, shielded and well protected, but the hold I have on her is precious. I cannot be overbearing or ever try to restrain her, confine her; I can only cradle her just right, just enough, so that she balances, safe – only then does she trust me, and only then, can she sing.
He loves you with that same gentle, thoughtful heart, and for that you love him with all of yours.
“An étude, then?” you barely have time to chirp your quip before Alex begins to play pizzicato with your body, strumming through the waves and dips of your dripping pussy with his strong, practiced fingers. He plays you from memory, knowing the map and tension of your body by heart – confidently and consistently, he plucks every note,
C string
G string
D string
A string
Sliding the rough pads of his fingertips through your folds, he expertly manipulates your pleasure so that you sing for him – a response to your lover’s call.
You cry out as Alex turns you into an instrument for his genius, showing off and alternating the same techniques that have made him a world class violoncellist: fingers dancing along your slit, he switches between stroke lengths - long and smooth, short and detached - so seamlessly, it makes you dizzy; anchoring his thumb, he rocks over your swollen clit with just the right pressure for your entire body to vibrate in ecstasy; sliding one, then two thick fingers into you, he drags, controlled, along the hug of your warm walls, coaxing from you his favourite song.
Far from being idle, the hand on your chest is equally as skillful, shifting between your breasts - toying, pulling and releasing its fistful of flesh to a hypnotic rhythm; nimble fingers arpeggiate, roll, and snap your sensitive nipples – pulling your perky peaks harshly upwards and releasing them to the twang of your gasps and melodic moans. Reaching your arms back to grab onto Alex’s neck, you fist the soft curls at its nape and arch, exaggerating the bounce of your tits – the sight is so lascivious, Alex has to bite a moan into your shoulder.
“Alex! Oh my god! Yes, please, please…”
“Please what, my darling?” a smirk is kissed into your skin, soothing the sting of his canines. Both of Alex’s hands slow and you whimper a soft, pathetic plea when you feel him withdraw from your cunt. He hums a sweet little harmony in your ear as he tortuously draws the back of his fingers through your slick like he would a bow over the strings of his instrument - purposeful, intentional. Chuckling at the way you jump when he knuckles over your sensitive clit, Alex asks you again, tone soothing and indulgent, “Yes?”
“Please, let me come, my love,” you barely recognize your own voice, it’s so airy and light, like you’re not even here.
Alex answers before you even finish saying the words, his desire to bring you to your climax overriding his patience. Without ceremony, he plunges his fingers back into your sopping hole and begins to thrust - fiery, impassioned, furioso. When you body starts to shudder from its impending crescendo, Alex bands his arm across your chest to hold you upright, rasping hot against your neck, “I’ve got you, darling.”
Continuing to piston in and out of your squelching cunt, his thumb circles your clit to an increasingly upbeat tempo, allegretto progressing to allegro; through your half-lidded eyes, you see Alex in your peripheral, his eyes closed, breathing laboured, soft curls bouncing wildly against his forehead. He’s lost now, lost to your pleasure the way you’ve seen him lost to the music, when he plays so passionately his arm becomes an extension of the bow. It occurs to you that tonight, it’s you who’s become an extension of him, his talent, his love.
The thought snaps the tightly strung wires in your lower belly and you come sharply, singing the high note that Alex wills from you. Slumping against his protective hold, you let Alex pull you down onto the couch and into his arms, cuddling you through your high with soft and tender kisses to your brow. When you finally return to yourself, you lift onto your knees and meet Alex’s mouth with a long, grateful kiss. Eyes full of love and mischief, your hand trails down his broad body to find the bulge in his pants waiting for your eager touch; smiling, you murmur against his lips, “My turn to play.”
a/n: written for @time-for-my-weekly-spanking's 2026 kinky challenge. not beta-read.
please read the tags and read at your own risk. i am not responsible for the content you choose to read.
The TV is on but muted, some action flick neither of you is actually watching playing on the screen. Jack has a glass of bourbon in one hand while the other rests warm and heavy around your ankle, thumb absentmindedly rubbing slow circles over the bone. The conversation between you is innocent at first, swapping stories about work, reminiscing about the days spent as an agent for Statesman before you retired and began pursuit of a less exciting career.
You listen as he regales you with a story about one of his first missions – a tale you’ve heard countless times but allow him to tell over and over again because he enjoys the way you laugh and call him an idiot when he gets to the part where he almost bungled the whole thing.
Tonight though, your mind is elsewhere. Your fingers mindlessly toy with the hair at the nape of his neck and your eyes glaze over, lost in thought.
“You know,” he says eventually, rolling the bourbon in his glass, ice clinking softly, “you keep lookin’ at me like you got somethin’ on your mind.”
Your hand stills and you raise your head from where it rest against the couch cushion. “I do not.”
Jack lifts his eyebrow, challenging you and you hold his gaze for about two seconds before you sigh and look away. “That obvious?”
His mouth curves slightly into a smile and he cocks his head. “Sugar, I read people for a livin’. You might as well be holdin’ up a sign.”
Your foot nudges his leg lightly. “That’s unfair.”
“Probably.” He takes a sip of his drink, watching you over the rim of the glass. “But, you’ve got my attention now.”
You hesitate, not because you think he’ll judge you but because the thing sitting on the tip of your tongue feels more than a little embarrassing to admit, especially to your ex-partner and occasional fuck buddy. You suddenly become intently interested in a loose string at the corner of one of his throw pillows. “It’s just…a thought.”
Jack sits there, patient as hell, as if he knows you’ll tell him eventually. He doesn’t rush you or press for more information.
“I was thinking about something like…” You trail off, grimacing slightly. “It’s just a fantasy thing.”
His voice is warm and amused. “Well now, that narrows it down exactly none.”
You glance up at him and take in his relaxed posture, leant back with one arm stretched behind you. He’s completely at ease, like whatever you’re about to say isn’t going to turn him on his head. “It’s not like…normal sex stuff.”
His thumb keeps tracing those slow circles over your ankle and to be honest, it’s making you kind of crazy. “Darlin’ that description still covers quite a bit of territory. I promise you there ain’t much you could say that’d shock me.”
You sigh, taking in a deep inhale to steady yourself, your hands dropping to your lap. “IwanttopretendIdon’twantit,” you spit out, so fast you’re not sure he heard it. Except you know he did because the motion of his thumb pauses. Your brain tells you to explain yourself before you lose your nerve. “Like…I was thinking of being pinned down or maybe even tied up,” you continue. “Just being forced to stay still. Being made to take whatever you want to give me.” Your voice drops, “I want to feel like I have no say.”
Jack leans forward, setting his glass on the table, forearms braced on his knees, eyes thoughtful as if he’s filing every word away. “You mean a game,” he questions. “Where you act like you’re fightin’ me but you ain’t actually sayin’ stop?”
You glance at him, uncertain, and give the tiniest nod. “Yeah.”
He studies you for a second longer, reading every flicker of your expression. He doesn’t react the way most men would to hearing something like that – no cocky comment or shit-eating grin.
Your fingers twist together, your heart practically thumping out of your chest due to nerves. “Jack,” you murmur. “Have you ever fucked someone like that?”
He shakes his head, eyes darkening as he answers you honestly, “No, ma’am.” Jack leans down to try and capture your gaze and when he can’t he lifts your chin, tilting your head up so he can talk to you plainly. “You trust me with that?”
Your eyes finally hold his and for a moment the room seems to shrink down to just the two of you. His gaze is steady – it’s the kind of look that makes it impossible to hide behind half-truths. “I trust you…” you whisper, the words barely there.
He tilts his head slightly, studying you, the corner of his mouth pulling into a faint, crooked smile. “Gonna need you to repeat that a little louder for me, sugar.”
“Jack–” you start, his name coming out breathier than you intended.
“Nuh-uh,” he says quietly. “That ain’t what I said.”
Your fingers tighten in your lap. You know what he wants and for some reason the words feel heavier now that you’ve already said them once. He notes your hesitation and he slips his hand into yours, squeezing once to ground you.
“C’mon now, sugar,” he pleads. “If I’m gonna do somethin’ like this with you…I need to hear you say it proper.”
Your throat tightens and you glance down at where your hands are connected. His palm is warm, rougher than it looks, his fingers loosely wrapped around yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Something in your chest pulls tight.
You’ve watched those same fingers steady a gun when things went sideways. You’ve watched as he extended his hand to haul you to your feet. You’ve felt him grasp at your wrist and yank you behind a wall a half-second before bullets tore through the space in which you had just been standing. You’ve trusted Jack countless times without even thinking twice about it.
You gather yourself, forcing your eyes back up to meet his. “I trust you, Jack.”
Jack’s thumb drags once across the back of your hand, his grip tightening briefly. “Wanna do right by you, sugar. You lead, I follow.”
The bar is busier than expected for a Friday night. The crowd is shoulder to shoulder and the low thrum of music barely cuts through the voices overlapping one another. You’ve been nursing the same drink you ordered when you arrived, but at this point, it’s watered down – the ice half-melted and glass slick with condensation. Your eyes keep drifting to the entrance, otherwise preoccupied.
Your pulse races, anticipation sitting low and heavy in your stomach, tightening with every second you don’t see him. It’s a ridiculous notion – it’s not like he’s going to bail on you. Still, the waiting is getting to you.
You push a little deeper into the crowd, weaving between people, and offering a quiet apology as you slip past. You move with purpose, but your eyes give you away. They drag over unfamiliar faces, skimming over silhouettes of men who aren’t him, and only briefly lingering on someone with broad shoulders. Your pulse ticks higher with every second, anticipation boiling over to impatience
You make it to the edge of the bar and set down your glass, thumb dragging along the rim as your thoughts start to spiral – did he get held up? Did he change his mind? Is he–
A burst of laughter cuts through your thoughts as a group of college-aged girls crowd the space in front of you, their next round of shots in hand. Then, like a sequence out of some cheesy rom-com, the girls dissipate and there he is.
Jack leans against the counter, one elbow propped, glass of bourbon in hand, talking to the bartender like he’s got nowhere else to be. Like he hasn’t kept you waiting. His eyes lift, finding yours, and a slow smile spreads across his face. He pushes off the bar and strolls toward you with that smooth southern swagger, closing the distance in a way that makes your heartbeat stutter. He stops just in front of you, close enough you can feel the heat of him, the faint scent of bourbon and mixing with his cologne. His hand lifts, tipping his hat, and leans in just a little too close to be polite. “Well now,” he says softly, a shiver running clear down your spine. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing, wanderin’ around, lookin’ like you want trouble.”
You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral, like his presence doesn’t immediately throw you off balance. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He huffs a laugh and his grin deepens, enjoying the way you push back. You take a seat on an empty barstool and he raises two fingers, signaling the bartender. Jack orders both of you another drink, sliding it toward you with a glance that lingers just a second too long. You take a sip but it doesn’t take the edge off like you had hoped. If anything, it makes it worse because you can’t focus on anything but his mouth. The way his throat moves as he drinks from his glass, the way his tongue peeks out when he wets his lips, that stupid little smirk that blooms over his face when he notices that you’ve been staring.
Mid-sentence, his eyes flick down to where your thighs are pressed together, to where underneath it all, you’re soaked and aching for him. “You alright there, sugar?” he asks, voice low enough it doesn’t carry.
Your stomach flips and you respond quicker than you had anticipated, “I’m fine.”
Jack’s brow lifts and he makes a noise that sounds like he’s not convinced in the slightest. “You sure about that?” he murmurs, leaning in closer, practically whispering in your ear. “ ‘Cause you’ve been squirming ever since I walked over.”
Heat creeps up your neck and you have to look away from him before your entire face catches fire from embarrassment. “Maybe it’s just hot in here.”
“Yeah,” he says affectionately, drinking in the sight of you. “That must be it.” The way he says it makes your stomach twist, like he reads right through you. “So, can I interest you in goin’ back to my place? Promise I’ll be real sweet.”
The shift from the bar to his place happens in a blur because you can’t stop jumping five steps ahead. Your brain recklessly supplies you with thoughts of Jack putting his hands on you – thoughts that make it almost impossible for you to sit still or think about anything else.
You can already feel his phantom touch – fingers tracing down from sternum to navel, teasing you until you’re begging for relief; hands pinning your wrists so hard that bruises form; the tip of his cock just barely grazing your entrance before he shoves in. By the time you step inside, your heart is hammering out of your chest and your pussy is aching for him in any way, shape, or form.
He shuts the door behind you with a soft click and instantly crowds your space, backing you into the wall, one hand braced beside your head and the other at your waist, dragging you into him. The impact knocks the breath from your lungs. “Jack–” you start, but you lose all coherent thought when his mouth presses to your neck. His lips graze just under your jaw and the hairs of his mustache tickle you as he kisses you – possessive and hungry. You lift the cowboy hat off from his head and let it drop to the floor, your hands running through his hair. He drags his mouth lower, the rough brush of his stubble scraping across the skin of your throat. Your head tips back without thinking, the sensation building until you can’t stay quiet anymore and a soft moan slips out.
“Jesus…” Jack groans, mouth brushing back up your throat. “That’s a pretty fuckin’ noise.”
His hands move, one at your waist and the other gripping your thigh, and he lifts you. A startled breath leaves you as your legs wrap around him instinctively, your body slotting just perfectly against his. Your back hits the wall again, the impact knocking a soft oof out of you. Your mouths meet in a messy union, teeth knocking and breath mixing.
Jack starts walking with you down the short hallway, pausing every few steps to press you into the closest surface and kiss you until you’re breathless. You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, your head spinning from how much you need him. He rucks your shirt up and over your head, letting his hands and eyes appreciate the swell of your now-exposed breasts and the soft curves of your hips.
He returns to kissing you, pushing into the bedroom without breaking contact, kicking the door shut behind him as he walks you in and tosses you onto the bed. The impact of the mattress knocks the breath from your lungs.
Jack stands at the edge of the bed, looming over you with his chest rising and falling a little heavier, his eyes dragging over you as if he’s taking in the sight of you properly for the first time. “Goddamn,” he mutters, almost to himself. His eyes track you as you shift under his gaze, your body reacting to the way his eyes have darkened with lust. His hand closes around your ankle, dragging you down the bed in one quick, controlled movement that makes your pulse spike. “Arms up,” he says, voice low and demanding, like he already owns every inch of your body.
You hesitate, something tightening in your chest as you shake your head. “Why?” you whisper, voice slightly resistant.
Jack leans forward, one of his hands catching your wrist, his thumb pressing gently into your pulse point. “Don’t start playin’ shy on me now.” You wriggle underneath him, pulling at his hold, not enough to break free but enough to feel the tension between you. His grip tightens in response – not harsh, but not giving. “I said–arms up,” he repeats, voice dropping in a way that makes your pussy clench around nothing.
You struggle against him again, breath uneven as you shift back against the mattress. “Jack, don’t–”
Jack’s other hand comes down, catching your second wrist when you try to twist away, pinning you down in show, just because he can. You push against him, but he doesn’t budge an inch. “What’re you–” Jack adjusts his grip, forcing your arms above your head as you squirm under him, the movement pulling a sharp inhale from your lungs. “Jack–stop.”
“You can fight all you want, sugar,” he breathes into your neck. “Ain’t gonna make a lick o’ difference.” Your back arches, tension running through you as you test his hold again, attempting to break free. He tightens his grip just enough to stop you and you feel something deeper settling in your stomach as the reality of the situation clicks into place. You’re not getting out of this. Not unless you really want to. Not unless you use your safeword.
Jack’s mouth brushes against your jaw, savoring the way you react to him. “Go on,” he dares, “Keep tryin’.” You twist again while he gathers your wrists in one hand, and in one swift movement reaches for the length of rope that always hangs from his person. Your pupils grow wide and you swallow a breath as you feel the rough texture of the rope sliding against your skin. “Easy,” he says as if trying to settle an unbridled horse.
His fingers are skilled, almost elegant in the way that he fastens the rope around your wrists and loops it through the headboard. He knots the last tie and pulls your arms high enough that you stretch out the entire length of the bed. Jack steps back and takes in his handiwork, wetting his lips. “Look at you,” he states, admiration and hunger blending in his tone. He runs the backs of his fingers down your ribs, barely touching you, just enough to make you arch. “Trussed up so sweet for me.”
Jack traces a teasing line at your waistband, not moving it just yet but letting the anticipation climb until your breath gets shaky. “You tied up for me…” he says, leaning in so his breath warms your cheek, “I could spend hours just playin’ with you.” He pops the button of your jeans and drags the zipper down until he can see the tiniest bit of your panties. “Pretty,” he says reverently, unable to stop the corner of his mouth from curving into that stupid little lop-sided smirk you love so much. “You look so damn pretty like this.”
His eyes gleam with a dangerous edge to them as he finally hooks his fingers under the waistband of your jeans and tugs them down past your hips. Your thighs press together in an attempt to stop him further, and a low chuckle vibrates in his chest. “Easy now,” he says, his voice thick with amusement, “You’re only makin’ this harder on yourself.” Jack yanks the denim the rest of the way off, tossing it aside, leaving you in nothing but your panties and the rope biting gently into your wrists.
He takes a seat on the bed next to you, his palm smoothing up the inside of your thigh. Your hips twitch involuntarily towards his hand – towards fingers that have brought you to orgasm more times than you can count – itching for more.
“Please don’t…” you whisper, barely able to hold his gaze, the words shaky and lacking truth even as heat floods your face.
“Don’t?” he repeats, voice warm with disbelief and wicked delight. “Sugar, that’s adorable.” He leans in, lips grazing your ear, that lazy Southern drawl practically making you purr. “You think sayin’ don't is gonna get you out of this?” Jack noses along your jaw, “C’mon now. You know how this is gonna go.”
His fingers continue their slow, maddening path up the inside of your thigh, stopping just shy of the damp fabric of your panties. The heat of his palm radiates against your skin, close enough to tease but never quite giving you what your body is begging for. “This pussy’s gonna get nice and wet for me and then you’re gonna be a good girl and give ol’ Jack exactly what he wants.
You writhe away from him as much as your position allows, the rope creaking softly against the headboard with the movement. “Jack…this wasn’t the plan,” you protest, your voice weaker than you intended as you reference back to what he had mentioned back in the bar – I’ll be real sweet.
“No?” he asks with a soft, cocky laugh, his hand finally sliding between your thighs, pressing in just enough to feel how warm you are at your core. “Well, sugar…I can’t quite untie you until I feel her squeezin’ around me, preferably with my load leakin’ out.”
Your cheeks burn as he pulls aside the fabric of your underwear, cool air hitting your slick folds as you clench involuntarily. You tug hard at the rope binding your wrists, the fibers digging in just enough to remind you that there’s no real escape – not unless you say the word that would stop everything.
“Jack–stop. Please.” The words are half-plea, half-performance, and the way his eyes darken tells you that he’s enjoying every second of the act.
Jack leans down, mustache brushing your collarbone as he presses an open mouthed kiss to the swell of your breast. “Go on. Keep sayin’ it like I give a shit.” Jack’s tongue flicks over your nipple, teasing it into a tight peak before he sucks it between his lips with a wet pop. Your back arches off the bed despite yourself, a gasp tearing from your throat. “Let’s see how long you can keep sayin’ no once I get my hands on you.”
Jack slides to the foot of the bed, sinking to his knees; his broad shoulders keep your legs parted as he leans in, looking up at you from between your thighs, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth inches from where you’re throbbing. Without breaking eye contact, he drags the flat of his tongue up your slit in one long, slick stroke that makes your entire body jolt.
“I don’t–” The lie dies on your tongue when two of his thick fingers slide through your folds, gathering wetness before circling your clit with an agonizing patience. The pressure is perfect and a broken moan slips from your lips before you can bite it back. Jack’s grin is slow and predatory.
“Don’t what, sugar?” he taunts, mouth brushing your clit with every word. “Don’t make you come? Don’t make you cream all over my cock?” He sucks lightly at the hardened bud of your clit in a way that makes your toes curl. “Uh-huh. Thought so.”
He presses one finger inside you, then another, curling them just right as his thumb continues to work your clit. The wet sound of his fingers fill the room, obscene and loud in the quiet between your ragged breaths. Your breath hitches as his fingers press a little deeper. You try to squeeze your thighs closed but he just as easily forces them to stay open. His tongue pauses long enough for him to talk against your soaked skin. “Now that just wasn't very nice,” he drawls, thumb sliding over your clit in a slow circle that makes your knees buckle. “But I’m not stoppin’ until this cunt tells me to.”
His mouth seals around your clit and he lavishes it with a few quick passes of his tongue. When your hips jerk forward, Jack pins them there with one strong arm, forcing you down exactly where he wants you. “And right now?” He lifts his head just enough to look at you, “She’s droolin’ for it.”
You pull against the ropes again, harder this time, the headboard creaking as your arms strain. The helplessness of it – the way you can’t push him away, can’t close your legs, can’t do anything but give yourself over to him – sends a fresh rush of heat flooding through you. Your pussy clenches around his fingers and he groans softly, “You hear how greedy this pussy is, sugar? She’s suckin’ my fingers right in even while you’re tellin’ me no.”
“Jack–ah–don’t…” Your voice cracks, hips twitching involuntarily as his fingers curl just right inside you. “Don’t make me–”
Jack’s eyes flick up to yours with a look of wicked satisfaction. He slowly drags his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing and whimpering at the sudden emptiness and climbs back onto the bed with a predatory grace, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moves up between your legs. His broad frame looms over you once more, caging you in as he settles his hips between your thighs. One large hand braces beside your head while the other slides up your body, palm hot and heavy as it presses firmly against your chest, pinning your upper body down into the mattress.
“Easy now,” he murmurs. His face hovers just above yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath and see the dark hunger in his eyes. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere, sugar. Not with those pretty wrists tied up so nice for me.”
His hand on your chest keeps you firmly in place, the weight of it steady and unyielding, while his other hand returns between your legs. Two thick fingers slide back into your soaked heat without warning, curling deep and immediately finding that spot that makes your vision spark.
You try to arch beneath him but his palm presses you harder into the bed, holding you down as he starts pumping his fingers again, faster this time, the heel of his hand grinding relentlessly against your swollen clit.
“Jack–stop–I’m so close. Please don’t make me–” you gasp out, the words turning into a broken moan as the pressure surges back, even sharper than before. Your walls flutter wildly around his fingers, the coil in your belly winding impossibly tight.
“Don’t make you what?”Jack’s drawl is warm, wicked, and far too knowing. He leans in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear while his fingers keep the same steady rhythm. “Don’t make you come? Don’t make you fall apart right here on my hand while you pretend you don’t want it?”
His thumb presses firmer against your swollen clit, circling with practiced precision as his fingers pump faster and deeper. Your head thrashes against the pillow, hips bucking up to meet his hand even as you whimper protests that sound less and less convincing. The coil in your belly tightens sharply, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust. Your breathing turns ragged, chest heaving as you teeter right on the edge, no matter how hard you fight it.
“Jack–please–don’t–” The words come out high and desperate, barely more than a whimper. Your hips buck up into his hand, chasing the friction even as your mouth keeps protesting. “I can’t– I’m gonna–”
“Yeah, you are,” he growls softly. “C’mon, sugar,” he orders, his voice dropping into a low, commanding drawl. His pace is relentless as he doubles down, eyes locked on your face like he’s memorizing every second of this. “Come for me. S’gonna make it hurt less when I stuff you full a’my cock and make you my own personal cumdump.”
Your orgasm crashes over you without warning, ripping a sharp cry from your throat as your body seizes, walls pulsing hard around his invading fingers. Jack doesn’t slow down, working you through every shuddering wave until you’re gasping, oversensitive and trembling beneath him.
He finally eases his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean with a satisfied hum. “See?” he says softly, voice rough with arousal. “All that fightin’ and you came so pretty for me.”
Jack barely gives you a second to catch your breath. The last aftershocks are still rippling through you, your pussy clenching around nothing, when you hear the clink of his belt buckle followed by the gritty rasp of his zipper.
Within seconds, the hot, heavy length of his cock is nudging against your soaked entrance. “Jack. Wait–” You don’t have time to finish your sentence before he lines himself up and drives into you in a single thrust.
You let out a sharp cry as he fills you completely, stretching you open while your pussy is still pulsing from the orgasm he just forced out of you. The sudden fullness is overwhelming and you can feel yourself well up as if you were going to start crying.
“Fuck, sugar,” Jack groans, voice strained, forehead dropping to rest against yours. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his size like he normally would. He pulls back just enough to feel the drag of your fluttering walls around him, then snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. The slap of skin on skin fills the room as he starts fucking you in earnest – deep, steady strokes that make the bed groan and creak.
You desperately tug at the ropes binding your wrists, the fibers biting into your skin as you struggle. “Jack–ah–stop–please.” Your protest sounds less compelling with every accompanying thrust, your body betraying you completely, greedy for more despite the overwhelming intensity of the situation.
Jack’s hand wraps around your throat – not squeezing, just resting there, a heavy and possessive presence as his thumb brushes over your pulse point. His other hand grips your hip, holding you steady as he fucks into you harder.
“Don’t–don’t make me come again,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure crashes through you, building impossibly fast on the heels of the first. “Please, Jack. I don’t want it. I can’t–”
“You can,” he growls, voice rough against your ear. His hips snap forward with more force, the head of his cock dragging along your sensitive walls and grinding against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. “And you will. Gonna feel you come around my cock this time, sugar.”
He leans down, mouth latching onto the side of your neck, sucking a mark into your skin as he continues relentlessly pounding into you. Your thighs tremble around his waist, heels digging uselessly into the mattress as the pressure coils tight and vicious in your belly once more.“Jack–stop, please. I’m so close already.” The words tumble out of you in quick succession. Your walls clench hard around his thick length, fluttering wildly as he keeps that perfect rhythm.
Jack snaps, his thrusts growing erratic and desperate. He groans, his breath hot against your lips. “Ahhh, fuck,” he rasps, voice cracking. “M’gettin’ real close, sugar…” His cock swells inside you, throbbing heavily with every deep, claiming stroke, stretching you even wider as he chases his release.
Panic surges through you in a hot, dizzying rush. “Pull out,” you gasp, twisting frantically beneath him, hips trying to squirm away even as he keeps driving into you. “Jack. Please–pull out–”
Jack laughs in a way that gives you goosebumps, his pace unwavering as he continues to fuck you senseless. “Well now,” he pants, voice teasing, “why would I do that…” Another forceful snap of his hips slams the rest of your protest into a choked gasp. “…when I can fill this tight little cunt with my load, huh?”
Your head falls back against the pillow, letting out a desperate, broken cry as hips slam against yours with punishing force. “Please–don’t…” you whimper, shaking your head, body trembling violently under him. You try to pull away again, but he just drags you right back down onto his cock. “Jack. Please don’t come inside me–”
“Ohhh, sugar,” he growls, dragging his mouth along the side of your throat, teeth grazing your skin. “You feel how this greedy little pussy clamps down every time I talk about fillin’ her up?” He thrusts harder, grinding against you on every stroke like he’s trying to bury himself as far inside you as possible. “Ain’t no way I’m pullin’ out of a perfect hole like this.” His pace turns sloppy, each movement more frantic than the last. “Not when she’s squeezin’ me so damn sweet. Fuck–”
Your legs tremble uncontrollably around his waist. You’re gasping, pleading, head shaking side to side as the pressure coils viciously tight in your belly again “Jack. Please. Don’t.”
He groans, a filthy, broken sound. “Uh-uh. Ain’t wastin’ a single drop,” he rasps, thrusts faltering as he climbs higher towards his climax. “Gonna pump it all right into this pussy.” His mouth drags hot and wet along your throat, breath coming in harsh pants. ”Gonna make you the perfect little cumdump.”
The word hits you like a spark on dry tinder. You gasp sharply, body arching hard beneath him, a strangled cry falling from your lips, “No. Please don’t–”
One second you’re begging him not to come inside you, the next your whole body seizes around his cock. Your pussy clamps down hard, pulsing in frantic, uncontrollable waves, milking him with every desperate flutter. “Ah–ah fuck–sugar–” Jack’s voice cracks, his hips stutter, hands slamming down on your hips to lock you in place. “You’re comin’.”
You squeeze him so tightly he can barely move, your cunt gripping his throbbing cock, dragging his release out of him. Jack throws his head back, choking on a groan, jaw clenched tight. “Ohhh fuck–you’re gonna make me–shit–sugar.”
His cock throbs deep inside you twice before he loses it completely. “Jesus–fuck.” His hips drive forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he comes. He groans helplessly, teeth gritted, body shaking as pulse after pulse of his spend floods into your still-spasming pussy. “Ohhh, that’s it—take it—take all of it—”
Jack stays buried inside you, hips twitching with every fresh spurt as your cunt continues to milk him through the last waves of your own orgasm. Your body trembles beneath him, every muscle loose and quivering, the overwhelming intensity leaving you gasping softly against his shoulder. Small, involuntary spasms ripple through your body, your pussy clenching around his softening cock in erratic little waves that draw a quiet, satisfied groan from his throat.
“Easy, sugar,” he murmurs, his Southern drawl thickened by exhaustion. “I got you. Just breathe through it.”
You whimper softly as another aftershock rolls through you, your bound wrists tugging weakly at the rope. Jack feels it immediately. He presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your cheek, grounding you with gentle affection that feels like a stark contrast to the brutal way he just used you.
After a long moment, he finally eases his hips back, sliding out of you with a wet, messy sound. You feel the warm trickle of his come leak from your swollen pussy, but before you can even register the mess, Jack is already moving. He shifts his weight, reaching up to the headboard with careful fingers. The rope comes loose quickly and he works the fibers free from your wrists with ease. As soon as your arms drop, he catches them gently, rubbing slow circles into the faint red marks left behind, kissing the inside of each wrist with surprising tenderness. “There we go,” he whispers, voice soft now, all the earlier edge gone. “You did so good for me, sugar. So damn good.”
Jack gathers you up against his chest, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so you’re draped over his body, your head tucked underneath his chin. The stark difference between your nude body and his fully-clothed self makes you shift, slightly uncomfortable with how vulnerable you are. “You okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
You manage a small, shaky nod against his chest, still catching your breath. The floating, hazy feeling lingers, but Jack’s presence keeps you anchored. “Can you–”
Jack looks down at you, eyebrows furled as he tries to figure out what you need. “Anything, sugar.”
Your hand grips at his t-shirt, soaked through with sweat and sticking to his chest. “Can you get undressed?”
Jack hums in approval, the sound vibrating through you. He rolls you softly onto your back and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before sitting up beside you. He reaches back and pulls his damp t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the broad, tanned expanse of his chest and the faint sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. He tosses the shirt to the side and then stands just long enough to shove his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his legs, kicking them off the edge of the bed.
When he’s finally naked, he climbs back onto the bed, and pulls you back on top of him. Your cheek settles against the solid plane of his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat against your ear grounding you. One of your legs hooks over his and he wraps his arm around your middle, his hand stroking slow, soothing lines up and down your spine. “Better?”
You nod faintly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The embarrassment and vulnerability eases now that you can feel him pressed against you, skin to skin. His palm smooths down your spine again, then back up, tracing the curve of your shoulder blade with the pads of his fingers. “Anything hurtin’?”
You shake your head against his chest and he hums again, the sound soothing to you. He shifts just enough to reach over to the nightstand, grabbing a bottle of water that he must have set there before leaving for the bar. He unscrews the cap one-handed and holds it to your lips, helping you take a few slow sips before setting it aside. “Good girl,” he praises softly. “You rest now, alright? I’ve got you.”
You let your eye drift shut, safe in the circle of his arms, his heartbeat the only rhythm that matters. Despite this, you find yourself spiraling, thinking to yourself, why isn’t he mine? Why have I cornered him into just being a fuck buddy? Does he want more?
Jack leans in close and whispers a quiet “Hey..” and then almost as if he can read your mind, he says, “I can hear you thinkin’ over there.” You open your eyes and look up at him with a pleading look, “What?” You shake your head, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.
Jack tips your chin up with two fingers, giving you that lazy smile that always makes your stomach flip. “Now don’t go hiding from me, sugar. Not after all that.”
You swallow, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being naked. Your voice comes out small. “It’s nothing.”
Jack doesn’t buy it for a second “Uh-huh.” His thumb brushes gently over your bottom lip, brown eyes soft but steady as they stay trained on you. “Talk to me. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head?”
You hesitate, heart thudding hard against your ribs. The words feel too big, too risky, especially after everything you just did; but the way he looks at you makes it impossible to keep them locked inside.
“I just…” You let out a shaky breath, fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. “I like you, Jack. More than just…fuck buddies. And I’m just trying to figure out if you would want that or if I’m the only one who–”
Jack’s expression shifts, stopping you in your tracks, something warm and knowing flickering across his face. He doesn’t laugh or pull away. He rolls you both gently onto your side so you’re facing one another, his arm draped over your waist to keep you close. “Sugar,” he says quietly, “you think I haven’t been askin’ myself the same damn thing?”
Your breath catches and Jack reaches up and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers linger against your cheek. “I’ve been tryin’ real hard not to make things complicated.”
The relief that washes through you is dizzying. You let out a disbelieving laugh, pressing your forehead to his collarbone.
Jack chuckles too, the sound vibrating through his chest. “That’s what’s got you in a tizzy? Thinkin’ I only wanted you in my bed and nothin’ else?”
You nod against him, clearly embarrassed.
“Well, that’d be where you’re wrong,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again. “I’ve been fantasizin’ about a whole lot more than just you fuckin’ you senseless.”
Curiosity wins out over the lingering vulnerability and you resume your ministrations on his chest, tracing your fingers across the planes of his chest. “Like what?”
Jack’s grin widens as he looks at you in adoration. “I’ve fantasized about cookin’ dinner with you. You standin’ behind me, huggin’ my back or you sittin’ on the counter in your underwear.”
Your fingers drift over one of Jack’s nipples accidentally and he lets out a strangled noise. “Hot.”
Jack snorts, placing his hand over yours. “I ain’t done.” He clears his throat, his eyes darkening just a fraction. “I’ve thought about sharin’ a bed with you. Not just when we’re fuckin’ but every night. And in the middle of the night when we’re both half-asleep, you’d scoot your ass back until you feel me hard for you and you’d end up ridin’ me slow. Real slow. Until you’re whimperin’ my name and we’re both outta breath.”
Your thighs clench involuntarily at the words, heat pooling low in your belly again.
Jack watches your reaction closely and keeps going, his voice dropping lower, “Or you sittin’ in my lap in a bath, with me holdin’ your thighs open, tellin’ you how good you’re takin’ me. Tellin’ you I ain’t ever leavin’ that pussy.”
You blink at him, mouth slightly parted, heat flooding your face. “Jack Daniels,” you whisper, half-scandalized, half turned-on.
“Yes ma’am.”
“That’s filth.”
He can’t help but laugh, proud and unrepentant, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “I just held you down and fucked the livin’ daylights outta you while you begged me not to, sugar.” he teases, “and you’re callin’ a little dirty talk filth?
You swat weekly at his side, but there's no real heat behind it. “Shut up.”
“Make me,” he murmurs, leaning in slowly, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. His hand strokes lazily up and down your bare back. “Besides, you liked it.”
You don’t deny it. You let out a small hum as you tuck yourself into the curve of his neck, your eyes drifting shut again. This time, your thoughts don’t spiral as you let the steady beat of his heart lull you to sleep.
Summary: Grogu, you, and Din, go to Tython to help Grogu get in contact with a Jedi. However, when troopers arrive, Din, Boba, and Fennec get occupied with the task of killing them, while you protect Grogu.
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, blood, descriptions of injuries, injuries, yada yada.
It was supposed to be quick, but it turned out that it wasn't just you guys who knew your location. A tracker had been placed in the crest while it was being repaired on Nevarro, and nobody noticed it. Which meant only one unfortunate thing. Moff Gideon, knew where you were.
You were up on the hill, protecting Grogu while Din settled things with Boba, when a small ship landed, loaded with troopers. You were confused on where it came from, and looked up, only to see Moff Gideons Light Cruiser in the sky. You panic and turn to grab the kid, but when you do, he's already meditating. Trying to contact any Jedi.
"C'mon kid, it's time to go" you say. You lunge forward to grab him off the stone, but you are suddenly thrown back. A blue force is protecting him. "Okay, fine. Stay there, and whatever you do, keep that blue thing protecting you" you say, sprinting to the edge of the hill to try and snipe out some troopers with the rifle on your back. You kneel down and look through your scope, hitting each one with precise accuracy. They,'re almost gone, at least thats what you thought, until another ship arrives. "Shit" you mutter under your breath. You turn back to see the kid, who is still meditating peacefully. You stand up to try and grab him again. You walk over slowly, and reach your hands as far as you can through the blue force. You are so close, you almost reach him until you are thown into a rock, knocking you unconscious. You wake up only a couple minutes later, seeing that he is still somehow meditating. You stand up as quick as you can, and grab your rifle again. Seeing through the scope, you see that Boba had gotten his armor back, who is also killing the troopers faster than when he had no armor. The troopers are almost gone, but you jinx yourself again when you hear, what sounds like missles, flying down towards you. You put your rifle back onto your back and turn to the kid. He stopped. The blue force is no longer protecting him, which means you have to. You look up and see four dark troopers flying down. Shit. You grab your blasters off your hip and start shooting. The plasma does nothing to them. You start to panic when they land in front of you. You lunge onto the dark troopers back and put it into a chokehold with your legs, shooting progressively at its head with your blasters, which still does nothing. The dark trooper grabs your body off of its back and throws you down to the ground. It bends down and punches you repeatedly in the face until you're unconscious. Or at least it thought you were.
Your eyes are hazy and blurry, but you see one of the dark troopers grab grogu. You push yourself up off of the ground just enough to engage your grappling rope. The rope wraps around the dark troopers leg just in time before the dark trooper flies off. You fly with the trooper, holding on by the arm the rope is attatched to. You climb up the rope as the altitude increases. You grab onto its leg, and propel yourself high enough to shoot the circuits under its neck, causing it to faulter its grasp and let its hold loose on grogu. You grab grogu and retract your rope. The other dark troopers notice whats happening, and start shooting. You use the other dark trooper as a sheild, while pressing a small grav charge under its neck. Using your grappler, you shoot the rope to wrap around another ones head, and jump off of the other. The other trooper explodes and falls down to the ground. As you try and do the same to the other one, one of the plasma charges grazes your arm, causing you to groan in pain, but your grasp on Grogu does not falter.
You place the grav charge onto the dark trooper and jump to the next, only to realize you're out of charges. You retract your rope which is attatched to the troopers leg, and throw it around its neck. Pulling tightly, you falter its movements and you force it to go downward towards the ground. The other trooper catches up quickly. Your altitude lessens, and lessens, until the other trooper pulls you off from the other. Youre about 60 ft above the ground when you start falling. You reposition yourself so Grogu is tucked beneath your arms, and you curl up into a ball with your back facing the ground. You pray to the maker that you survive this. You keep your eyes open, until it all fades to black.
"What happened?" Boba asks Din, as he follows him up the hill. Din is sprinting, he watched you fall, but couldnt make it in time to catch you with his jet pack. Hes running up the hill to get to you and Grogu. Boba looks over at fennec, who is also running. As they make it up the hill, they find you lying down on the ground with Grogu in your arms. Grogu is crying, begging you to wake up. Din runs over to you, and takes his helmet off as he kneels down.
"Wake up... please wake up!" He screams, tears sting his eyes. Boba and Fennec catch up. Fennec brings her hand to her mouth, gasping as she sees the scene. "Cmon please baby" he sobs. Holding you, lifeless in his arms. Pleading for you to wake up as the blood from your head drips down his arms. He kisses your head and pulls you onto his lap, crying, holding you tightly.
Boba leans down and presses two finger to your neck, checking for a pulse. Luckily, he finds one. Agonizingly slow, but there. "She still has a pulse" he says, getting Dins attention. Grogu waddles over slowly, placing his hands on your head, and focusing. You feel a tug on your head, as you are brought back to the light. Your eyes flutter open, and you see Din's teary, puffy eyes.
"Din?" You ask.
"Im here cyarika, im here" he says, sobbing through his smile. He holds you tight, and you look down to see your wounds are healed. Looking down further, you see grogu, passed out from using the force to heal you. You pick him up and hold him.
"He healed me" you say, checking yourself once more for any injuries. You hold him up and kiss his forehead. "Thank you buddy" you whisper.
"You scared the shit out of me" Din laughs, hugging you tighter and kissing your forehead. You bask in this moment, grateful for your friends and family. "Im so proud of you" he says. You look up him as he pushes a lock of your hair behind your ears. "You took out four of those troopers by yourself to save the kid." Which is completely true, because after you were thrown off of the dark trooper, they crashed into each other and exploded. Which is what caught Din's attention in the first place.
Dating Alex Serian Headcannons (both of you play instruments)
- Alex would serenade you on the cello. Every evening, he picks out a new song to sight read and he plays it for you. There’s a lot of eye contact involved that makes you bite your lip. The sweetness of the vibrato is enough to make you want to crawl in his lap.
-You attend his concerts front row and center. You enjoy when he has solos and clap the loudest when he’s done. It takes a lot not to cheer in the middle of the performance but you’re the first one on your feet.
-When Alex struggles to communicate, he pulls out his cello and starts playing. If it’s in a minor key, he’s stuck inside his head. When it’s in a major key, he has something to say but doesn’t know how to say it
-You play violin and often get a little mark on your neck due to your chin rest. Alex loves to massage it and always leaves little kisses on your neck. You also happen to be ticklish and happen to giggle every time he kisses it. Meanwhile, the cello gives him calluses on his fingers so you give him hand massages.
-The two of you are dueting at home after rehearsals. You’re not as confident as him but you two make beautiful music. When you mess up, he gently helps correct your stance to hit the right notes. Playing together is one of your many forms of intimacy and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
-Sometimes it’s rainy after performances and both of you giggle as you run to his car. Both you know instruments are not supposed to get wet so you two basically perform stunts tryna get his big cello in the car.
-Being the prodigy, Alex books more gigs than you and sometimes you find yourself jealous. You love him and wish you were as talented but you support his success. And he really does appreciate it. And sometimes when you get jealous, he lets you give him a private performance to feel special. He makes sure not to give notes since it’s your moment to shine.
Prompt: Memorising their routines without meaning
Pairs: javier peña x wife!reader
Request
Word count: 1K
The smell of your favorite banana muffins wakes you up. The sun is still rising, and your alarm is five minutes away from ringing. You're pretty sure your husband is baking - or trying to bake - your favorite breakfast. Even after five years of marriage, he still manages to do these kinds of things.
With a huge grin on your face, you get up and throw your robe over the very revealing pajamas you wore for him the night before, quietly making your way to the kitchen. There he is, humming as he checks the oven. You thought it was impossible to love him more, but every day proves you wrong, just like right now.
When you met Javier Peña, he was just a guy looking for a one-night stand in a bar in Laredo. He smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and trouble. You had always been drawn to that. His beautiful, wicked smile. That slutty mustache. It was the perfect invitation.
To Javier, you were sitting there with your friend, sipping whiskey and laughing. The tight black dress made him hard, eager to unzip it and see it lying on the floor of a cheap motel room. Without hesitation, he approached you. And that became the greatest and wildest night of your life. So much so that you never left each other afterward.
He doesn't turn around, but he hears your footsteps. They're so recognizable, even against the wooden floor. Your arms wrap around his waist, and you rise onto your toes to place a kiss on his shoulder. Javier's hands find yours, bringing them to his lips before he turns around so his mouth can meet yours, his mustache scraping against your skin.
"Morning, beautiful wife" he mutters against your lips.
"Morning, handsome husband" your hand runs through his hair.
"Sit down. You'll be my princess today." he kisses your neck.
After breakfast, you both take a quick shower. It is a tradition—you always shower together, no matter what. Javier finishes getting ready first since his shift starts earlier. Before leaving, he comes to the bedroom and kisses your forehead. You watch as your husband disappears down the hallway.
On the small table where your phone sits, you find a container filled with the muffins you didn't eat, along with a note:
I know you'd forget.
And by the door, there's an umbrella. It's going to rain today, and of course, just like the muffins, you'd forget that too. Javier always does things like this. That's probably why, whenever he doesn't, you end up forgetting.
It's six o'clock when Javier glances at the clock.
You are thirty minutes late.
It's Friday. You're never late.
You always go to Giordano's on Fridays so you can have your favorite pasta and wine to unwind from the stress of the week. He starts pacing back and forth through the living room, checking the clock every minute until he finally hears the engine of your car.
His shoulders relax, and he can breathe again. He's a federal agent. You get home at the same time every day. The fear of something happening to you on your way home is real, and it creeps into him every time you're late.
The sound of a key turning in the lock echoes through the small house, making his heart race. His eyebrows are knitted together when you step through the door. Your eyes widen.
Javier is always waiting for you with a big grin. Yet today, worry is written all over his face. After taking off your shoes and closing the door, you walk over and wrap your arms around him.
"What?" you ask.
"What happened?" he asks, pressing his lips to your forehead "Why did you take so long? I was worried."
"They blocked the street I usually take, and I got stuck in traffic" you whisper. "I'm sorry."
"You're the best thing in my life" You smile, rubbing your nose against his.
"You too, baby" you look into his eyes "Let me take these clothes off and put my pajamas on."
"Aren't we going out?" His expression falls in disappointment "I made reservations at Giordano's."
"Why don't we stay home? It's raining. I want to lie under the covers and watch something with you, even though we're probably not going to pay attention to it."
You kiss Javier and walk to the bedroom. He's speechless.
You're refusing Giordano's? You?
That is pretty unusual.
He follows you to the room and watches as you change clothes.
"Is everything okay, my love?" he asks, hugging you from behind and kissing the back of your neck.
"Yes, baby" you reply "I'm just really, really tired. This traffic killed me. Besides, I want to spend some quality time with the love of my life."
"Come here, then."
He sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the couch, laying you down gently. Javier goes to the bedroom and returns with a bottle of lotion. Sitting on the couch with your legs draped across his lap, he pulls off your socks and tosses them aside before lifting your feet and smelling them.
"How come your feet smell this good?" he asks with a grin.
"Shut up!" You shake your head and giggle.
"Why?" he chuckles.
"This is weird" you grin "By the way, I noticed the gas tank was full this morning. Thank you for that."
He just nods.
You turn on the TV and press play on the VHS tape you were watching the night before, Se7en, of course, an investigative thriller. Javier is addicted to those, and you enjoy them too.
Javier's thumbs work slowly against your calves. Outside, the rain taps against the windows. He doesn't need to ask what you need tonight. After all these years, somehow, he always knows.
CW: NSFW below the cut (MDNI), afab!Reader, Mentions of PIV sex, BigDick!Mando, Mention of SmallerThanMando!Reader that could be read as Small!Reader
A/N: Slowly getting back into Tumblr via Mando I’m so excited!!! Sorry this is a little short tho 😔
Din Djarin x Reader
Size Kink Hcs
Smaller reader that’s getting lifted up and down on Mando’s cock like a fleshlight 😵💫, his gloved fingers digging into your hips, his fingers nearly spanning all the way around your waist as he pulls you up and down on his length over and over, practically spearing you in half…
Big tall Mando that notices the way you instinctively shrink when he’s around, especially when he’s right up against you, seeing how you curl and arch your body in response to his mere presence makes him think about making you squirm under him…
Strong Mando that wears fifty pounds-worth of armor and weapons all day, every day, so he’s somewhat jacked, lifting you onto counters and against walls to pin you just where he wants you, pressing his body into yours to feel how you wiggle uselessly against his broad chest…
Big Dick Mando who marvels at the way your tummy pokes out just beneath the navel when he’s balls deep inside you, watching the way that bump slides in and out as he moves, your body changing to accommodate him, all the while he’s thumbing your clit like his massive cock isn’t enough to satisfy you on its own…
Summary: you wake up alone again and decide to take sweet revenge.
Warnings: porn with minimal plot, teasing, masturbation, fingering (gloves stay on), one (1) pussy slap, unprotected p i v (armor and helmet stay on), creampie. Established relationship.
“Good morning!”
Unhurriedly, swaying your hips, you step into the cockpit of the Razor Crest, carrying two cups of caf. Din is already in the pilot’s seat, despite the damn early hour. You set the cups on an empty spot on the dashboard and, yawning, stretch sweetly.
“Good morning,” the man’s gaze is already fixed on you: aside from panties and a short top, you’re wearing absolutely nothing else.
“Just the way you love it,” you nod at the hot caf, then take a delighted sip of your own.
“Thanks,” Din swallows, ignoring the drink you made, “what are you doing?”
“Drinking my caf,” you shrug innocently, causing one of the straps of your top to slide seductively down your shoulder.
“Why aren’t you dressed?”
You hear those low notes in his voice, that familiar hoarseness, and realize that your straightforward plan is working.
You woke up alone again. And yet your man wasn’t even away on one of his missions right now - it was just that stupid habit of his of waking up at the crack of dawn and, as soon as he got out of bed, getting right down to business, depriving you of the morning sex you love so much. Clearing his throat, Din turns away and tries unsuccessfully to remember what he was doing two minutes ago.
“What’s the big deal?” you have the sweetest smile on your face.
“It’s… distracting,” your Mandalorian mutters, feigning annoyance, as if he doesn’t like what he’s seeing.
“Could it be...” you reply, leaning over the sensors and screens, studying the coordinates of the course he set; your lower back arches slightly, your butt temptingly sticking out.
Finally, you feel the sweet taste of victory: a large palm in a glove touches your leg, slowly sliding up the inside of your thigh. Smiling dreamily, you half-close your eyes in pleasure. Din’s hand caresses your soft butt with an air of ownership - he knows it belongs only to him, and that realization turns you both on.
Standing on your tiptoes, you reach for the buttons and switches and engage autopilot, then lock the cockpit door, ensuring privacy for the two of you. And then gracefully hop up onto the dashboard. Your hips end up in the perfect position - right at Din’s eye level, and your bare feet press against the armrests of his seat on either side of him.
“I woke up alone again,” you pout your lips, offended, “I wanted you to be with me so badly...”
“Cyar’ika,” the man exhales guiltily, “I...”
Your pussy involuntarily tightens at that tender name - you absolutely adore it when he calls you that.
“I wanted you to kiss me,” you pull up the hem of your top, baring your breasts with boldly protruding nipples, “I wanted you to caress me...”
Pushing the thin fabric of your panties aside, you slide your fingertips along your exposed, already wet pussy.
Din’s heavy breathing, slightly muffled by his helmet, the way his fists clenched, and the impressive bulge in his pants encourage you to keep going. With gentle, weightless touches, you tease your swollen clit, not even trying to hold back your soft, quiet moans. This little show turns you on just as much as it does him - you could easily cum right now, in front of him.
The palms of your Mandalorian rest on your bare legs - and you spread your thighs wider. Gently sliding two fingers into your needy hole, you throw your head back and let out another desperate moan.
“Dank farrik!” Din growls, losing his patience and jumping to his feet.
Almost roughly, he snatches your hand away from your dripping pussy, and you gasp, feeling the touch of his glove’s cool, rough leather against your delicate, sensitive flesh. First, one of his thick fingers eagerly pushes inside you, and almost immediately a second one joins it. You whine and arch your back; his other hand rests on your waist and pulls you closer.
With a few precise, confident movements, he brings you to an incredibly vivid orgasm; his glove becomes completely soaked with your juices as you cum on his fingers.
Once you stop trembling, you go limp in his arms.
“No way,” Din shakes his head, still holding you with one hand while clumsily unbuttoning his pants with the other, “you’re not getting off that easy now.”
Biting your lip, you smile and nod vigorously, letting him know you’re ready to take whatever he’s about to give you. Last night, just a few hours ago, he, literally folding you in half, fucked you senseless, and now he’s about to do it again. Will you ever get enough of each other? With all your heart, you hope that will never happen.
Din’s cock springs free, the head glistening with pre-cum, and your mouth instantly fills with saliva. You slide off your seat and drop to your knees, but the man catches you and yanks you up sharply, pulling you back to your feet.
“No,” turning you around with your back to him, he presses your chest against the dashboard where you were just sitting, then commands, “legs wider.”
You obediently follow his order.
“Good girl,” he rewards you with a light slap on your pussy. You sob.
The next second, his thick cock fills you, thrusting all the way in to the balls with a single stroke. You cry out loudly, and a gloved hand clamps over your mouth. It smells of you, of your release, and your head is spinning.
Your Mandalorian’s outward restraint, his cool composure, the image of a ruthless warrior who destroys his enemies without batting an eye - all of it melted away like smoke dissipating into the air when the two of you were alone. Din Djarin, the man with whom you shared your bed and your life, was the most tender, the most caring, the most devoted. And he fucked you so good that you were ready to forget your own name.
The other strong hand digs into your hip so hard that it’ll probably leave bruises. He pounds into you, relentlessly, mercilessly; at first you try to move too, to find the right rhythm, but soon you give in and just let him take you however he pleases, and oh, he does it so damn well...
“Din...” you whimper, feeling the approach of orgasm.
“What is it, cyar’ika?” he breathes out, leaning toward you slightly, removing his palm from your face.
“Please… I… I need to cum…”
“What should I do?” he picks up the pace slightly.
“Please… help me… please…”
“Be a good girl and don’t make a noise.”
His fingers find your clit and begin to circle around it lightly and quickly, each movement pushing you closer and closer to that sweet climax. A few more powerful thrusts - and you clench around his cock with a loud moan, defying his instructions. Din curses and follows you, filling you with his hot, thick cum.
It takes both of you a few moments to come to your senses. Din’s flesh leaves your body, and you, feeling hypersensitive, shudder. His sperm, mixed with your own juices, slowly trickles down the inside of your thigh.
“I’ll get a towel.”
“Wait,” you catch his hand, “don’t go, stay with me.”
Din hugs you with a sigh, you press your forehead against the cool metal of his helmet.
“I’m with you, always,” he assures.
“I love kissing my man after sex,” you remark, pouting slightly.
Stepping back, Din removes his helmet, and, pulling you close again, covers your lips with his.
“Just the way you love it,” he whispers into the kiss.
18+ MDNI | guitarist!Eddie Munson x girlfriend!reader | one shot | 1.2k
You know what they say about guitarists and their fingers.
Genre smut, established relationship
TW/CW no Y/n, profanities, fingering
m.list
From his high school years, you knew Eddie was going to be a great musician. You never doubted for a second that he would eventually be a famous guitarist, thus you supported him through every single process of becoming one. One very important process where your participation was needed greatly was practice.
Today was one of those moments where he needed your help. He had been back from practice for a few hours only to lock himself up in his mini studio in your shared home. You initially thought he needed some alone time, so let him be. Until you felt arms snaking their way around your waist as you were making a drink.
You tensed in your stance, instinct went faster than you could stop it, only to relax back into the arms of your lover when you felt him nuzzling against the crook of your neck. You let out a giggle as his mop of curly hair tickled your neck.
"Eddie," you whined softly. "I'm making a drink for you right now."
"What are you making?" His voice was muffled by your neck, lightly tickling you.
You giggled again. "I think it's obvious from the smell. Guess."
He raised his head from the crook of your neck to peer over your shoulder at the glass in front of you. "Hot chocolate."
"You're right!" You turned your head toward him to plant a kiss on his cheek. "I was just done making it."
"But there's something else I want right now." Without having to look at him, you knew he was pouting from his voice alone.
With a knowing sigh, you turned around to face him which made him cage you to the counter with both arms. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. At this point, his face was dangerously close to yours, his lips were almost touching yours.
"You want a kiss-" You closed the gap and planted a kiss on Eddie's lips. "-or something more?"
"More," was his only answer before he devoured you in a heated kiss.
As if it was orchestrated, your lips moved in rhythm with his. Biting his bottom lip, opening your mouth when his tongue was asking for permission by licking your lips, and moaned against the kiss as his tongue explored your mouth. Unbeknownst to you, your moan stirred something inside him.
With one swift motion, he swiped you up and carried you bridal-style without having his lips leaving yours. Then he began making his way back to his studio. Once he crossed the door to his studio, he shut it close with his heel. With a soft thud, he laid you down on the sofa, letting your body bounce until it settled before latching his lips to yours again.
As moans erupted both from your and his throats, your hands flew to the hem of your shirt, wanting to relief yourself from the rising temperature that was caused by Eddie's kiss alone. Still kissing you, he helped you take off your shirt, only pulling away for a split second when pulling it through your head. The same was repeated on his shirt after you tugged on the hem of his shirt, wordlessly demanding him to take off his shirt as well.
Within a few minutes, not only that both your shirts were on the floor, but they were also quickly accompanied by your pants and underwear, leaving the both of you butt naked inside his studio.
From years of knowing him, you knew right away that the moment you were fully naked under him, his hand would start wandering on your body. As his left hand found its purchase on your breast, fondling it with the same care he showed his guitars, his right hand flew to your slick, pulsing core. He drew lazy circles on your cunt, pulling out a string of broken moans from you that he greedily swallowed in a kiss.
On instinct, you began slowly grind against his fingers, demanding to get get more friction on your most sensitive part. He seemingly understood the silent message as his now slick fingers went faster against your cunt.
More moans left your lips right into his mouth. You pulled back from the kiss momentarily, a string of saliva connected the both of you as you said, "I need more."
"More? Alright. I can give you more." Without any more warning, he inserted a finger in, going as deep as he could until his ring touched the lips.
The cold touch of his ring accompanied by his finger curling inside you moan louder as your muscles contracted around him, as if trying to get more of him or trapping him inside. Then Eddie began to slide his finger out until only the tip of his finger in before sliding it back inside. He repeated the motion, every insertion always followed by him curling his finger and grazing your most sensitive spot before pulling out again.
"Just like that, Eddie. Please," you whined under him, always becoming so putty under his long, trained fingers.
It doesn't take long for him to start inserting the second finger in which elicited more moans out of you. And soon joined his third finger. With three fingers inside you, he now began to slide in and out of you. Every time he was inside you, he curled his fingers and grazed your sensitive spot again. Every minuscule movement inside you were amplified at least ten-fold until you were turned into a moaning and whining mess.
By this point, Eddie probably could guess that you were getting more and more overstimulated and that you were getting closer to your orgasm. Being a good boyfriend that he was, he picked up his pace and helping you to get your much deserved high. He used his other hand to play with your nipple, twisting and pulling it that only made you feel even more overwhelmed with pleasure.
"Are you close?" he asked, his hands never stopped their ministrations on you.
You frantically nodded, unable to let out anything coherent other than moans.
"Then come."
Taking it as a permission, you let yourself go over the cliff of pleasure as a loud moan filled the entire room. Your hips bucked, meeting his fingers in the middle, asking for more.
Knowing for what you wanted, Eddie never stopped pumping his fingers inside you, feeling the tight contractions made by the wall of muscles and carrying you through your high. He only pulled out of you once your hips were back down on the couch and you let out a tired, content sigh.
Without words, Eddie stood up, grabbed a piece of clothing from the mountain of clothes on the floor and started to help you cleaning up your wet, sticky core. Although he was being very gentle and the fabric was soft, your swollen pussy still felt raw and pulsing.
"Eddie," you called for him.
From between your legs, he looked up. "What is it? Does it hurt?"
You shook your head. "Not really," you lied, just to make him worry less about you.
Satisfied that you were no longer sticky, he let the fabric drop and stood back up. "Then you should rest. I need to continue my practice."
"What about you?" You eyed his cock that was hard and leaking pre cum at the tip. "Don't you want to get some release?"
He leaned down on you to press a light kiss on your forehead. "We'll do it after you get some rest and I finish my practice, okay?"
Summary: You sustain a minor injury and while high on painkillers you ask Tommy to bring you to Joel. Who knew that being this off your face would bring out the truth you've been keeping from your best friend...
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, injury, established friendship, friends to lovers, protective Joel, idiots in love, no use of Y/N.
Word Count: 4, 252
"Son of a...!" The sharp, hot pain erupting through your shoulder steals your words and brings tears to your eyes. "Shit! You okay?!" You barely hear the voice over the pain. Tommy is crouching before you, his eyes searching you with worry. The horse you'd been tending to is shuffling nervously in the corner at the opposite end of the stall. "Oh fuck!" he exclaims, gawping at your arm. Following his gaze, you're horrified to see your arm dangling uselessly, your shoulder jutting out at an unnatural angle. "What...?" "I think it's dislocated," Tommy says grimly. You attempt to get up but the slightest jostle is agonising, and with a sharp gasp, you slump back down on your ass. "You need to get it reset. I"m gonna help you up and take you to the hospital, okay?"
You can't speak, you just grit your teeth and nod through the pain as Tommy eases you off the stable floor and walks you to the hospital. The doctor confirmed what Tommy had suspected and had set it back in place, but not without a barrage of unsavoury words from you. Now, as you're being lead through the streets by Tommy, your head is starting to float- or maybe it's your entire body. Whatever pain relief they'd given you, it's fucking great! Your steps feel a little out of sync with the rest of your body and you stagger a couple of times. "Whoa, steady," cautions Tommy, his voice sounding kind of distant as he guides you onto your street.
You begin to giggle but you don't know why. "What's so funny?" Tommy asks in amusement. "I have n- no idea," you say in a dreamy voice that doesn't quite sound like your own. Tommy lets out a small chuckle. "Whatever they've dosed you up with, I wouldn't mind some of that." He continues to steer you towards your house, which just so happens to be next door his brother's. "Are we there yet?" you moan. "What are you...? A five year old in the back of a car." Tommy jests. "I wish we s-still had cars," you sigh wistfully. "I love a road trip." "The only trip you'll be taking is over your own damn feet if you don't watch where you're stepping," Tommy mock scolds as he steadies you again. "I'm not sure it's a good idea to leave you alone like this," he says thoughtfully.
You glance at Joel's house and you smile when you see his lights are on. "I know... Take me t- to Joel. He'll... look after me." "Uh... I don't know about that?" Tommy answers hesitantly. Your head rolls to look at Tommy. "Why not?" You can't help but pout. "Because the second he sees you like this, he's gonna loose his shit." "But I like Joel," you smile around your pleading tone. "Yeah, I know ya do, hunny," he pauses, then adds quietly, "I think we all do." "Wa...?" Tommy shakes his head. "Nothing," he quips, suppressing a smile. You give him your best doe eyes and Tommy groans, "Fine, but... get ready for the shit storm."
*****
Joel sat on the bench on his back porch, guitar in his lap and a steaming mug of coffee on the table beside him. Strumming away, he allowed the slow melody to take his mind elsewhere... but not for long. Turning his head, he checks your house for the tenth time in several minutes. It's still dark; no sign of life. Strange, she's usually home by now, he thinks to himself. "Joel." Tommy's muffled call comes from within the house. "Joel!" Joel jumped up at the sudden urgency in his brother's voice. Leaving the guitar on the bench, he rushed into the house and stopped abruptly, his whole body going rigid at the sight of Tommy holding you up and, is that... a fucking sling?! "Heyyy..." You look up and give Joel a half dopey smile.
"What the fuck?!" burst Joel, his legs clearing the distance between you in a nanosecond. "Darling, what happened?!" He promptly took you from Tommy and ushered you into the living room, holding you carefully while you sat down on the settee. Joel whirled on his brother, fear and adrenaline making him sound harsher than he should be. "What the fuck happened to her, Tommy?!" "Dislocated her shoulder," Tommy replied factually. Joel blinked, stunned. "How the hell did that happen?!" "Don't yell at him," you slur slightly. "It was my fault. I wa- walked around the back of the- the horse and she spooked..." Your words trail off into quiet laughter and the brother's give each other quizzical looks. "The last thing I remember before hitting the st- stall was a giant horse's ass coming my way!"
The laughter then burst from you but with the force of it, so did the ache in your shoulder. "Ow! ow! ow!" Sucking in a sharp breath, you hold your throbbing arm. "Easy, easy darling," soothed Jeol, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his broad frame. "You're okay, I've got you." He tucked your head under his chin and rocked you slowly. "Why's she talkin' funny?" He looked up at Tommy with concern. "Pain killers. They've done a real number on her," Tommy answered with a sympathetic smile. "I was untacking my horse when I heard a big thump in the stall and when I got there she was on the floor." "Shiiit..." Joel dragged the word out. "What am I gonna with you, huh?" His tone was low, intimate bedside your ear.
"I'm sorry," you mumble. "I should have b- been more careful-" "Shhh, it's okay," Joel hummed, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, then he instantly froze. Shit! Did he really just do that? He didn't even think it through; all he saw was you in pain, sounding so fragile, and it was just a natural reflex. Tommy cleared his throat and when Joel looked up at him he saw a smirk hiding in the corner of Tommy's mouth. "She asked for you, Joel. Said you'd uh... 'look after her'". Joel shot a withering look at Tommy. "If you're busy I- I can go home. It's okay, Joel," you say, sitting up straight. "Absolutely not!" Joel replied. "You're not going anywhere. You did the right thing coming to me." Joel fixed you with a stern look, his protective instincts flaring. "Remember what I told you...? You get into trouble, you come to me."
The smile you gave him made his heart lurch; a smile that says, 'I trust you", and that... that is everything to Joel. You tuck yourself back into his neck and he relishes the feel of you where you belong- right here in his arms. "Well... I got a wife and son who are probably wondering where the hell I am, so I'll just see myself out," Tommy piped up and turned to walk away. "Tommy..." Joel called after him. He stopped and turned to Joel. "Thank you for taking care of her." His tone was laden with gratitude. Tommy nodded and smiled at Joel. "Thank you, Tommy," you echo. "It's no trouble, hunny. You feel better, okay." And with that, Tommy left, closing the front door behind him. Still snuggled into Joel's body, you let out a contented sigh. "You okay, darling?" Joel whispered.
"Hmm... yeah Just a- a little tired," you mumble into Joel's shirt. "It's probably a side affect of the medication. Why don't you take a nap?" suggested Joel, but that's not what you want right now; not when Joel's arm is around your waist and his warmth and scent are enveloping your senses. "No, no," you mumble sleepily. "I want to stay like this, please. This feels... nice." You hear an amused huff from Joel. "Okay, just hold on a minute..." You open your eyes to see him reach across the setee for a blanket, all the while never letting you go. When you both settle back into the cushions he drapes the blanket over you and brings his other arm across your body. "Comfy?" he hums. "Mmm... very," you sigh and lay your uninjured arm on his forearm, smoothing him in circles.
Countless times you've fantasized about being held by Joel like this and, even if you weren't woozy from the drugs, you're certain you'd still be light headed right now. "This is nice," you say again. "I like this... I- I like your arms..." Did you just say that? Huh, yeah you did and for some reason you're not mortified to admit it, so you continue, "Actually I looove your arms. They're big and- and strong..." Did you imagine it or did Joel just tense beside you? "... and I feel sooo s-safe in them." "Umm... okay, that's... good to know." Weird, his voice seems to have risen in pitch. "I love how you take c- care of me and how good you are to me." You bring your hand to rest on Joel's chest, right beside your head and tap. "I love your heart, and..." Oh, what the hell, "I love you, Joel."
Joel let out an awkward laugh. "Aw, love you too, darling." You can tell by his casual tone that he completely misunderstood your meaning. "No," You sit up, your face so close to his you can smell the coffee on his breath and you fix your eyes on his. "I mean I love you, Joel... more than a friend should." Whoa, what the hell is in these drugs? All this time you've lived with the feelings you have for your best friend, never having the guts to come clean and now it's like you have no filter. Joel's eyebrows shoot up and he looks completely astonished. After a moment, his eyes soften and he opens his mouth like he wants to say something and it's then you realise you've been holding your breath. His eyes drop to your lips and when they travel back to yours, you're sure you saw... something there. Longing? Desire?
Emboldened by Joel's reaction and the sudden sexual tension in the air, you lean in and, even though you're a little out of it, you see him lean in just a fraction. And that's when it happens. The atmosphere shifts and Joel jerks away, his eyes now anywhere but on you. Your heart plummets, right through your stomach and down to your feet. "Um- I uh... I'll go make us something to eat," Joel rushes, rising to his feet. "Joel...?" Your voice is a timid whisper and you hate the sound. He doesn't allow you to finish. "You must be hungry by now," he continues, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down. Oh, that's not a good sign! You've learned by now that's what he does when he's anxious. "You just take it easy in here, okay?" He doesn't wait for an answer, leaving the living room in just a few hurried strides.
Your breath leaves your lungs as if you've been punched, humiliation a rising tide. What have you just done?! Had you read the signs wrong the entire time? For a while now, there was a part of you that suspected Joel might feel something more for you beyond a platonic friendship, but reality is a brutal bitch. With a sickening feeling, you realise it was nothing more than wishful thinking. Tears burn your eyes but you blink them back. You've already shamed yourself enough for one day. You slump against the back of the settee, head lolled over the back of it and stare at the ceiling, which appears to be wobbling in your drug induced state. "What the fuck have I done?!" you whisper harshly to yourself. You want to cry, you want to die, you want a sink hole to swallow you whole. Hell, even being tossed into a pit of infected would be less painful than the hollow feeling where your heart once was.
Have you just ruined the best friendship you've ever had? You don't want to know the answer to that. Maybe you should leave quietly while Joel's distracted in the kitchen. No, he'd only come knocking on your door. You could go after him and talk this though like a mature adult... or you could just blame it on the medication and when he comes back in, you could just pretend it never happened. Indecision and frustration are having a tug of war in your mind. You close your eyes and take a deep breath to centre yourself, the fatigue you'd felt earlier only growing stronger. You have no choice; you'll just have to face the consequences of what you've done...
*****
In the kitchen, Joel is barely holding himself together as he absentmindedly heats up some leftover beef stew. He'd almost kissed you! You'd said all the right things, all the things he'd been dreaming to hear from you, looked at him with such sincerity, put your trust in him while you were vulnerable and he'd almost kissed you. Did you even mean it or was it the drugs talking? For a moment he'd believed it was all you and he wanted nothing more than show you how he feels about you, to claim your mouth with his own. But in the last moments before his lips met yours, realisation that you're in no fit state hit him like a sledgehammer, dousing the heat beneath his skin. He had to get out of there- for both of your sakes. He knows he did the right thing, so why does he feel like utter shit for it?
The worst part was the devastation written all over your face and he hates himself for it. It's taking all of his willpower to not walk back in there and finish what had almost started. He stirs the stew with a little more force than necessary, trying to channel his frustration into the motion. What the hell is he going to say to you when he goes back in there? It's not like you both can just ignore what happened. His worries were short lived though, when he walked back into the living room with two steaming bowls to find you asleep on the setee with your head tilted back, a soft snore filling the otherwise silent room. He placed the bowls on the coffee table and just observed you for a moment. He smiled softly as he sat down beside you.
"Hey..." he shook your knee gently, "Wake up, darling." "Mmm..." Your head slumped to the side and your eyes cracked open slightly before closing again. Removing the blanket form you, Joel slipped one arm behind your back and the other under your legs and carefully scooped you into his arms. His chest tightened with a rush of affection when you nuzzled you face deeper into his chest. What he wouldn't give to have you like this forever- just without the injury. He took the stairs carefully, bringing you into his bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed then took your boots off, leaving them beside the bed. Pulling the quilt over you, he tucked it up to your chin and swiped a few loose strands of hair off your face. Taking a moment to look over you, Joel smiled and whispered, "Sweet dreams, darling," then left the room with the door ajar.
You wake with a groan, fighting against the pull of your eyelids. When you finally manage to peel them open, it's to a room you've never seen before. Your adrenaline spikes and your eyes shoot wide open. What the hell...? In your disoriented state you, you attempt to bolt upright, only to be reminded of your fragile condition by the deep throb along your shoulder. Sucking in a pained breath, you lay back down and glance around the room, searching for any clues as to where you are. It only takes a moment to for you to notice Joel's jacket hanging over the back of a wooden chair and a guitar propped against the wall beside it. On the bedside table are a pair of reading glasses and a book on woodwork. This must be Joel's bedroom, but what the hell are you doing in here?
The last thing thing you remember is lazing on the settee and... Oh fuck! It hits you like a bucket of freezing water: Joel's arms around you, your mouth running away with you, the almost kiss... Your stomach twists into a knot and if you had the energy, you think you might just throw up. "Oh no, no, no!" You're voice comes out as a choked whisper, one hand covering your face in absolute motification. What the fuck were you thinking last night?! The memory of Joel's flustered face and quick departure bursts behind your eyelids. You couldn't have been more wrong about him, so what now? Have you ruined what you already have because you couldn't keep your damn mouth shut? How are you supposed to face him now? You drag yourself up- your head still a little heavy with sleep- and slide your legs over the side of the bed.
From the weak light spilling in through the thin curtains, you guess it must be pretty early. Maybe you could sneak out of here without alerting Joel... or maybe a black hole could open up and suck you in; that would be the preferred option right now. Alas, the universe is never that kind. Leaning forward, you grab your boots and after a few moments of one handed struggle, you manage to slip your feet in and stuff the laces in the sides. Being careful to make as little noise as possible, you creep across the bedroom floor and crack the door open, listening for any movement in the house; nothing. You breath a sigh of relief and step out onto the landing, taking extra care to step lightly as you make your way down the stairs.
Passing the living room, you see a pillow and a rumpled blanket on the settee. Shit, he's awake. Okay, get to the front door, your inner voice is screaming. You only make it half way before you hear a deep voice say "Good morning," from behind you. A high pitched gasp escapes you and you spin around to find Joel leaning against the kitchen door frame in loose, grey sweatpants and a creased white t-shirt, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. "Holy shit, Joel, you scared the hell out of me!" "Sorry," Joel says with a teasing tilt to his lips. "How's the shoulder?" "A little sore, but much better than yesterday," you reply. Joel smiled, looking relieved. "Good... I made coffee if you want some." You shift uncomfortably and you hate it. You've never felt uncomfortable around Joel the whole time you've known him.
"No thanks," you say, trying to sound casual. A lingering silence falls between you both and Joel looks at you is if he's unsure what to say next. God, the tension is stifling; you can barely look him in the eye. "How'd you sleep?" he finally says. "Okay... Uh, about that..." You grasp a hand with the other one, fingers fiddling with each other. "How did I end up in your..." Your cheeks flush at the thought of saying bed. That feels too intimate. "...um, room?" Joel walked towards you, setting his mug down on a low unit in the passage. "You fell asleep on the setee, so I took you up." Your mind flooded with thoughts of Joel carrying you upstairs and your stomach gave a little flip. You try your best to ignore it but you can feel your cheeks heating up again. "You should have woken me up, I would have gone home." Joel shook his head. "Not in that state. You were safer here where I could keep an eye on you."
"Well... thanks," you smile. Another silence falls and you can't take it anymore. "I should, uh... get... going," you splutter and Joel steps even closer. "What's the rush? Stay for breakfast," he urges, sounding hopeful. "Um, I can't. I-I need to go!" Inwardly, you cringe at the stammer in your voice and turn to leave. But before you can even take a step, you feel Joel's hand wrap around your wrist. "Wait," he says softly, and that one word alone has you freezing on the spot, your heart beginning a marathon. You turn to face him with what you hope is a neutral expression. "We need to talk," he insists, giving you the most intense look you've ever seen and you're not sure you're ready for this. "About what?" you ask casually- too casually.
Joel gives you a flat look. "You know what." You close your eyes for a moment and shake your head as if that alone could erase what you'd said last night. "Honestly, Joel, I'd rather forget it happened," you groan. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I- I wasn't thinking straight and I was high on painkillers-" "So, you didn't mean any of it?" Joel jumped in, his brows pinching together as he studied you. He looks disappointed. No that can't be right. Your mouth opens and closes again, your brain clearly lagging this morning. "Uh... it's not- that's not what I meant..." Joel's frown eased into a soft, almost smile. Your cheeks are a furnace now and you lower your gaze to his chest and begin to ramble, "I don't want to ruin our friendship, Joel. You're like my best friend and it's okay that you don't feel the same -" "You think I don't feel the same?" Joel's question catches you off guard, just as much as his sudden proximity.
He's dangerously close, his big chocolate eyes searing into yours. "Um, no..." you answer, but it sounds more like a question. "You made that clear last night." Joel huffed, smiling gently at you. "Darling, how long have we known each other?" Okaaay... Where's he going with this? "Uh... about a year," you reply, hesitantly. "And I have loved you. Every. Single. Day," he punctuated the last words. Jaw slack, you just stare at Joel as his words sink in. "But- but last night, you couldn't get away from me fast enough!" Joel sighed, pained. "I had to get away from you... or I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from doing this..." Before your brain could even compute, you were in Joel's strong arms, his lips crashing to yours with a hunger that rendered your legs useless and made your head swim.
Holy freaking shit! Joel Miller is kissing you. So all this time, you haven't been alone in your longing. He's wanted you too! Your trail your hand up his shoulder, along his neck and into his hair, gripping the curls and you can't stop the moan that comes out. In response, Joel's hold on you tightens and he slides his tongue inside your mouth, desperate for as much of you as he can get. He'd tossed and turned all night, torturing himself over wether you'd meant what you'd said. A part of him feared to hope; after all, what would a beautiful woman like you see in his old ass? But now tha you've laid all his doubts to rest, he couldn't be happier. All these months of loving you from a distance, of wanting you, of wanting to take care of you, had been chipping away at him. He's an idiot. Why didn't he say something to you sooner?
When you both pull apart, breathless and giddy, Joel says, "Now do you see how you make me feel and why I had to put some space between us? It was almost impossible for me to walk away but I wasn't bout to take advantage of you while you were high as a kite." You give him a teary smile and Joel's heart melts at the sight. "You're a good man, Joel Miller..." You place your hand on his chest, "With a good heart." Joel settles his hand over yours and smiles. "It's all yours, darling. For however long you want it." "Is forever okay?" you purr and Joel sighs happily, all the love, affection and tenderness he has for you welling up inside. He brings his hand to your cheek. "I love you, so much," he declares. "I love you too, Joel. God, we're idiots," you chuckle. "We wasted so much time dancing around our feelings for each other."
Joel's arms tightens around your waist in a possessive gesture that has your boobs pressed against his chest and it causes your pulse to race. "Well, we won't waste any more," he says, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your chest. "Agreed," you breathe and you kiss each other again, slow and deep. Oh, you're definitely not going to be able to get enough of that. After a few moments, Joel breaks the kiss and slides his hand into yours, fingers threading, and he begins to lead you to the kitchen. "Now, come on. You're still under my care and I'm making you breakfast." "Bossy," you laugh while snuggling against his arm. He turns his head, giving you a blinding smile. "But I like it," you grin. He replies with a wink that makes your insides go all gooey and you smile to yourself, knowing this is the start of something long awaited and beautiful.
summary: the mandalorian assumes you both have needs and asks if you would like to have sex. you are more than willing to accept his offer.
“Would you have sex with me?” The Mandalorian asks out of nowhere in the middle of two sharing a meal.
At first you don’t respond, you don’t know what to say. Your mind is wandering what what he just said did he really just say that or is this a dream did you miss hear him. You finally respond.
“You wanna have sex with me?” You respond.
“Well I figured you had needs and I had needs that we could both help each other."
"How do you know that I have needs." You ask. He’s quiet for a momen.
"Well I guess I assumed wrong."
"No, we can have sex."
There is a small silence between the two of you unsure of what to say. Is this really going to happen or is this just a strange comment he made?
"Go to my bed" he says in a dominating tone.
Right now?
You question in your head.
He wants to have sex right now?
You don’t question him you put down your stew to and get up and move to his bed. You lie down not sure what’s gonna happen next. You felt his presence walk around the ship he’s grabbing things he’s getting ready. He stops in front of his bed and goes to hand you something you look in his hand and it is your sleep mask.
"Put this on." he says.
You do what he says and put it to cover your eyes. Now you only see a small light through the blackness after a few seconds your whole vision goes black. You assume he has turned up all the lights in the razor crest you grow nervous not sure if he’s looking in the shadows.
"Mando" you whisper "where are you?" You hear him respond. He’s only a few feet away.
"I’m right here." He said.
"Tell me when you’re close to me and before you touch me." You say nervously. You don’t know what to think.
"All right. I am here. I’m going to take off your skirt now." he says "I’m moving my hands up slowly towards your skirt."
Then you feel his hands around your waist, touching your skirt, hooks his fingers around your skirt, and then around her underpants and push them down.
The feeling of his hands is almost too much to bear. Your skin is sensitive. You haven’t been touched in so long it’s making your body heat up.
As you become exposed his mouth waters beneath his helmet. He hasn’t had sex in so long. He’s unsure if he’ll even be able to perform correctly but right now as he stares at your cunt all he can think about is what his tongue would do to be on it right now.
He debates in his head whether he should takeoff his helmet, risk seeing him just to get a taste of your sweet cunt. He wants to so bad. He feels like he can’t control himself before he’s taking his hand, putting it on his helmet and taking it off.
You barely can hear what’s happening. You have no sense where you are what’s gonna happen or what Din is gonna do to you.
It excites you. You feel yourself get wetter and wetter thinking about it. You don’t know what’s happening until you hear a large clunk on the ground. You assume it’s one of his pieces of armor. He’s trying to get comfortable before he fucks you.
But then you feel his face his breath against yourself you gasp what is he going to do? Is he going to rub your pussy against his helmet? You’ve never had foreplay like this, but you’re up for it.
Out of nowhere you feel a thick, wet tongue lick your clit. Your body jolts. You weren’t expecting it.
Did he take his fucking helmet off? Did this man take his fucking helmet off to eat you out?
"Fuck" you say as he laps at your cunt. He does two more long, thick laps against your clit before his tongue gets quicker. Each lick to your clit is like an electrifying shock up your body.
"Fuck." you keep saying "Mando you feel so fucking good."
He has his fucking helmet off. He took his fucking helmet off to eat your pussy.
Your mind is wandering thoughts.
He really wanted to do this. That’s so hot.
It’s not long before you feel two gloved fingers reach your hole. As he feels the wetness dripping from you. He wants to say something. He wants to say that you’re so wet for him and only him. He wants to assert that dominance. But he’s not ready for you to hear his voice without this helmet so he just hum at your witness before he sticks two of his thick fingers in.
His tongue is still lapping at your clits while he starts fucking your pussy with his fingers.
You say "fuck" again. You don’t know how many times you’ve cursed but it’s been for too much but it feels so fucking good.
You’re hit with a pleasure of ecstasy. You feel so fucking good as you come and he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking and fucking you at the same time.
He can tell when your high is over and he retreats to his helmet on the floor.
You hear the scrape of the metal and know he’s picking his helmet up to put it back on. You feel his body make his way on top of you.
"Are you ready for me to fuck you?" He says nonchalantly. He just ate your cunt until you were seeing stars and now he’s just asking you calmly can I fuck you?
What is wrong with this man? Why are you fucking him? What is this? Will this put a strain on your relationship?
You don’t know what to think about all this. Right now all you can think about is how his thick cock is about to go in and out of you. If he fucks as good as he can eat you out you’re willing to beg for it.
"Yes." you respond. You’re just as nonchalant as him, but in your mind, your thoughts are racing you feel the weight of his cock against your cunt.
You feel him put his tip close to your hole. You feel the weight of it. You feel his tip collect your wetness. You let out a sigh. He starts push pushing in slowly you feel him trying to repress his groans but you hear them.
You never thought you would hear the Mandalorian sound so weak, but it’s your pussy that is making him feel this way. The Mandalorian slowly slides his cock inside of you.
It feels so good for him and for you. The Mandalorian is trying to hold back his groans and moans, but he’s failing you can tell you can hear them when he finally bottoms out.
He strokes his fingers against your cheek before he starts moving he fucks hard not fast but hard. It’s a good pace you recognize. He goes in and out in and out but each time he comes back he shoves his hips tight against yours.
"You feel so fucking good." you moan. You don’t care if you’re embarrassing yourself in front of him, he’s the one who asked if he could fuck you first and he fucking feels amazing.
Mando suddenly stops thrusting and you whine. At your slight disobedience Mando grabs you and pushes you on your hands and knees. He pushed your head down so it is against the pillow and the only thing that is sticking up is your ass. He then quickly inserts back into you with a hard and quick thrusted.
"Good fucking girl, letting me fuck you" He groans and you are caught by surprise. Usually Mando is not one to be vocal, however the feeling of your cunt has got him to spit out a few more words. He keeps jack hammering his cock into you.
You hum at his praise, enjoying the feeling of his body on top of you and his thrusting below.
"Fuck, this cunt is trouble." Mando mumbles to himself. It is so quiet you almost can't hear it but you do.
Do you have the Mandalorian whipped for you?
"Can I come in you?" The Mandalorian breathily. He’s out of breath.
"Yes, I'm on the pill." The minute you say yes he explodes inside of you. He comes hard inside of you and you can feel it. He grown so loudly. He’s not holding back this time. You hear him say you feel so good. He makes sure that he’s deep inside of you as he gives you his cum.
"I will get you a towel." He says calmly. The room is still dark, but you feel his presence in front of you. He stopped. He doesn't hand the towel to you. He’s just stopped in front of your body the top half of your body still covered, but your cunt is fully exposed.
Through Mando's night vision he stares at your cunt. Your Cunt that’s stuffed full of his cum. He wants to do nothing more than to take off his helmet again and lick his cum out it but for the first time tonight he restrains himself.
He’s already been reckless enough tonight, asking to fuck you, taking off his helmet to taste you and then fuck you and coming inside you.
Now he brings the towel to your body and wipes off any cum that has come out of you. He grabs your panties and puts them back on. Then he turns on the lights and tells you that you could take off your sleeping mask.
"We’re gonna go to hyper space soon. We need to go to another planet. Prepare."
Reminder: this is unedited, I am writing this with one hand
Mando’a translation:
Mesh’la - beautiful (nickname)
-
The branches cut into your skin as you ran deeper into the forest, your breathes coming out in loud puffs as you force your burning legs to keep going.
When you hear the sound of rustling water, you stop and lean against a tree to take a breather. You look behind and you don’t see the familiar shine of beskar. A sigh leaves your lips as you take this opportunity to rest.
You hear it before you see it, something fast and sharp whizzed past your face and embedded itself into tree next to your face. You feel your breath hitched as you weigh your options, going up or down stream would leave you open to attacks, while crossing the river could slow you down and he’d simply picked you off stream. But the beskar is heavy
The grappling hook retracts, he’s close. Without much choice, you jump into the river, the water going up to your waist. The cold water seeps into your clothes, and the stream threatens to knock you off your feet, you still your nerves and keep threading through the water.
Halfway through the river, Din makes his appearance breaking through the trees, he cocks his head to the side, “That’s not going to stop me mesh’la.” His modulated voice amusingly teases you.
He jumps into the river and makes his way over to you much faster than you had anticipated. You hasten your steps but the river is too fast and your feet catch on a rock on the river bed. You shriek as you fall face first into the water. Strong arms wrap around your waist and you’re thrown over a cold beskar pauldroned shoulder.
You groan as Din makes his way back the way he came, “How long did I last this time?” You asked limp as a sack on his shoulder. “7 minutes.” He replies without missing a beat, “You don’t make our games very hard mesh’la.”
Pairing/WC/Tags: Jackson!Joel x innocent!reader / 881 / p in v smut, nicknames ‘honey’ ‘babygirl’, legal age gap, inexperienced reader, fluff & smut
A/N: yall been seeing that scent trend on tik tok? I have, so I wrote this based on this specific video LOLZ enjoy
“It’s okay, baby girl.”
Joel smiles down at you, the grey in his beard flashing in the porch light. You chew at your lower lip, eyes dropping to the guitar in your hand. You’d been trying for nearly an hour, the pads of your fingers aching from the metal of the strings and your effort.
“I can’t get it,” you whisper, frustration trickling up your spine. “I just- Joel, I can’t.”
He makes a little frown, his brows raising. “You quittin’ on me?”
“No,” you say quickly, puffing your cheeks out. “I- okay. Tell me again?”
Joel gives you a look, having sensed your thought process a mile away.
“Alright,” he says, shifting closer.
He reaches over and taps your wrist lightly. “Loosen up. You’re holdin’ it like it’s gonna run off on you.”
You let out a small breath through your nose, half a laugh, and ease your grip just a little.
“Better,” he says right away, like he noticed the second it changed. He scoots in closer on the porch step, the guitar settling between you both. His arm brushes yours as he adjusts your fingers on the fretboard one at a time “This one here,” he says, pressing your finger down where it needs to be. “And this one right here. Don’t fight it. Just leave it there.”
You glance down. “It feels wrong.”
“Yeah,” Joel says simply. “It’s gonna. For a bit.”
You look up at him. “That’s not exactly reassuring.”
A faint smirk pulls at his mouth. “Wasn’t tryin’ to reassure you.”
He sits back a little, but not far, a faint smirk pulling at his mouth. He’s still close enough that you can feel him there, his body heat and leather. “Alright. Strum slow. Not like you’re tryin’ to set somethin’ on fire. Just… like you’re talkin’.”
You nod, swallow, and try.
The sound comes out uneven, one string buzzes, another rings clean. You immediately flinch at it.
Joel doesn’t react.
“Again,” he says.
You try again. Still messy, but less so this time. A little closer to something that almost makes sense. He gives a small nod. “There you go.”
Your shoulders drop without you even noticing they were tight.
“See?” he says, softer now. “It ain’t about it soundin’ pretty right away. It’s just your hands learnin’ what to do.”
You stare down at the strings. “My hands feel like they’re working against me.”
“Yeah,” he says, leaning back with a creak of wood. “Mine did too. Still do sometimes.”
“Really?”
“Really, honey.” Your cheeks heat, warmth pooling in your belly as you lean forward, and the scent of the oak guitar fills your nose. Joel leans forward, and his chest brushes your back. “Ready to try again?”
-
“Come on, baby girl, just a little longer.”
You nod frantically, tears slipping down your heated cheeks, babbling out broken pleas for more as Joel’s cock nearly splits you in two.
Nearly.
His hand cups the back of your head, forcing your mouth against his shoulder as he fucks into you at a slower and deeper pace, until your vision blurs and your thighs shake. You gasp, eyes squeezed shut as your walls flutter, your nails digging into Joel’s back.
“Can you give me one more?” He murmurs, his beard tickling your cheek. “Cmon darlin’.”
Your lips part, and Joel groans at the sight of your pink tongue, wet and hot, before shoving his mouth against yours. He kisses you hard, his cock thrusting in and out faster, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing against the walls of his cabin.
“J-Joel.”
“Yeah, baby?”
The hand in your hair trails down your neck, pawing at your breast before Joel leans up on one arm, the other pressing right below your belly button. When he presses down you gasp, squirming.
“Awh baby,” he hums, and his eyes flutter. “Can feel me in ya. See that? Feel that? That’s me, darlin’.”
Your eyes roll but you try to sit up, try to watch the way his hand presses to your stomach as you pant. He grins, all teeth, before leaning back down and kissing you. The hand on your stomach moves to your hip bone and grips, pressing you down into the mattress as he fucks you into it, his whole weight squeezing the air from your lungs. You can’t breath, can’t think right, and your walls tighten around his length as you come, a moan and a sob exhaling from your throat.
Joel mumbles something, some praise that you can’t make out, and when his hips get sloppy you register it half way, a haze of bliss settling over your sticky skin.
“Did so good baby-“ he murmurs, pressing a reassuring kiss to your neck, your jaw. He’s warm as he slides out of your puffy lips and you whimper, curling into his side. His arm comes around you immediately, and you nestle your head to his chest. “Need to clean ya, baby.”
“In a minute?” You murmur. You know you’re a mess, that you need a shower and to put on your clothes; but all you want as your breathing evens out is to be in his hold.
Joel hums, his mouth pressing to your hair line. “Course, baby. Take all the time you need.”
