Big Brother 23: Cant Be Any Worse Than Past Seaso

[psychedelic-ink]

hello everyone! here you'll find all the fics I've written for the haunted hoedown! like I said before I won't be doing kinktober this year so this is my mini kinktober for the year 2023 🎃 i tried to add more characters from my other fandoms but once again i ended up using mostly pedro characters lol whoops

hope y'all enjoy the hoedown and keep it spooky everyone! 🦇

find all fics on AO3

♡ DAY ONE ➡ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆. stepbrother!frankie x santi's gf!reader

taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

♡ DAY TWO ➡ 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄. dave york x f!reader

murder plot au (lets kill this person together) + "crawl to me"

♡ DAY THREE ➡ 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋. priest!ezra x f!reader

priest au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.”

♡ DAY FOUR ➡ 𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍. ai-enhanced!miguel o’hara x f!reader

artificial intelligence au + "here, you are. you tiny thing."

♡ DAY FIVE ➡ 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐓. animal shapeshifter!pero tovar x f!reader

animal shapeshifter au + "you're not actually scared are you? of me?"

♡ DAY SIX ➡ 𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘. joel miller x f!reader

slasher / summer camp au + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

♡ DAY SEVEN ➡ 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒. jack daniels x f!reader

cosmic horror au + "you're a fucking nightmare. kiss me."

♡ DAY EIGHT ➡ 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐒. cult leader!din djarin x f!reader

cult au + “do you like it when i bleed for you?”

♡ DAY NINE ➡ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖. tasm!peter parker x f!reader

zombie apocalypse au + "every moment might be our last, let's make the most of it."

♡ DAY TEN ➡ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓. marcus pike x f!reader

inspired by your favorite lana del rey song + “don't you know how sick with love i am for you?”

♡ DAY ELEVEN ➡ 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊. fallen angel!joel miller x f!reader

cyberpunk au + fallen angel au + “i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you.”

♡ DAY TWELVE ➡ 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐗𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒. oberyn martell x f!reader x max phillips

vampire court au + "forever isn't long enough for me to forgive you."

some of the works above will contain dark themes and situations. if that is not your thing please just skip them. every fic will have additional warnings. minors please dni.

if you like what you see please reblog and comment to show support 🖤

[beardedjoel]

smother - part vii: convert

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: you're entangled deeper into joel's web with a test to your submission, and he brings you a revelation that shocks your entire known world. 13.1k words (literally what the fuck) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! dubcon - stockholm syndrome, general coercion, innocent reader, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is late 40s), ddlg/daddy dom! joel, sub!reader, reader wears a collar, unprotected piv, corruption kink, pet names for reader, dirty talk, lap sitting and straddling, discussion/descriptions of religious beliefs and cults, yeaaah i learned i'm working through some religious trauma with this one, reader has hair that can be grabbed onto, reader gets her period, reader cries A LOT and i'm not sorry about it, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: i had such a solid, general idea for this chapter and then she took me in so many directions against my own will but it was a fun ride. so i guess i just hope to hell this is coherent?? and not just a slog. also sorry for dumping my religious trauma on you all but it had to be done 😇

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

If any of these rules are broken, daddy will punish me:

Daddy owns me. What daddy says goes. Always. 

Always use the titles ‘daddy’, ‘sir’, or ‘master’.

Daddy knows best. Do NOT question him.

‘Yes.’ ‘Please.’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘Sorry.’ Use my manners.

Never remove my collar. Only daddy can do that.

Always be honest with daddy.

You’ve been scribbling furiously for the last thirty minutes, curled on the floor in front of the couch as you use the ground as your table, writing whenever and whatever Joel dictates. That was one of the first rules he’d iterated to you - sit at daddy’s feet when commanded. 

Joel sits on the couch right next to where you’re situated, periodically sipping on a mug of steaming coffee. A delicacy, one of his guilty pleasures that he practically sells his soul for over in Jackson just to get a bag of it, he tells you. He’s dressed casually, having thrown on a pair of gray sweatpants and he’d forgone a shirt when you two rolled out of bed this morning. The outfit only does favors for him, you notice - the hair trailing down the planes of his chest to the waistband of his sweatpants leaving little to the imagination in terms of what’s underneath them. That glorious thing that had made you feel so much… pleasure. You try to hide your shiver at the memories of last night, but circle back to it over and over in your mind. You can still feel it, feel him as you shift your weight and a soreness hits you yet again between your legs. 

You practically have to tear your gaze off of him, trying to focus back on the lesson as heat floods your cheeks from how easily you were distracted. It’s not supposed to be like this, you think angrily, you shouldn’t be having these feelings. You’re… captive, a prize to him, nothing more, you remind yourself, despite recalling the way he’d looked at you this morning when you two woke up - his eyes a little softer and starry after your special night together. 

Your knees burn again as the bare skin scrapes against the wooden floorboards when you bend down to write the next thing Joel had spoken out,  gently stroking your head as he did so.

Wear only what daddy approves for me. 

This one feels apt to be next as you try to avoid wincing at the discomfort growing in your knees. Joel had tested you this morning, seeing what you’d grab from the drawer, what you’d put together to please him. When you’d pulled out jeans, he shook his head as you hesitantly held them up towards him.

“No. No pants when you’re home with daddy. Jus’ the sweater an’ your little panties,” Joel had snipped with irritated and hurried footsteps to the dresser drawer where he pulled out a knit top. “Arms up,” he commanded, sliding the oversized sweater over your head, not bothering with any type of bra. He rationalized it was just more for him to have to get through later, anyways. “Grab some tall socks. Can’t have those feet gettin’ cold, little one,” he’d added on cooly, tossing his hand in the air as if he couldn’t care less which socks you chose. But still, his eyes had lingered, hawk-like while your fingers hovered over the drawer until you decided on a pair of slightly dingy pink cable knit ones that came up onto your shins.

You feel the soft, warm material of the sweater hugging your skin now as you hunch over to start writing the next rule.

Do not come without permission.

You lift your head, glancing at Joel with your eyes wide and curious, pencil hovering above the page, leaving the sentence half written.

“Y’heard me,” he says airily. “Don’t want teacher getting mad, do you? Thinkin’ y’don’t wanna write that one down, hm?”

“N-no, sir. Sorry, sir.” Your head shakes quickly, a rush of fear pulsing through you. You hunch your back over once again, pencil meeting paper as you write out each word carefully for him to see. 

“Mm,” Joel murmurs, leaning forward to look as you hunch over. He keeps a hand resting on top of your head, petting you soothingly. It makes you ache inside, your body responding so pliantly when he touches you like this. “That’s a good girl, then.”

“I just -” you start, eyes glancing back up at him. Joel’s eyes are now narrowed in warning as his brow pinches together. 

“You just what?” he punches out gruffly. “Hm, princess? What did we say to do if you have a question for teacher today?”

Your eyes cast back down. “R-raise my hand, sir,” you say carefully, slowly raising your hand from where it rests on the floor, letting it hover above your head.

“There we go…” Joel coos. “Yes, blossom?”

You sit back on your legs and fold your hands in your lap, looking downwards - the exact position he’d requested if you had any questions for him.

“With t-the coming… rule…” you start, feeling a burn in your cheeks as you practically whisper the dirty word. You wish you could be so bold and open like Joel, talk about these kinds of things like they’re nothing. “I- I’ve done that before and you didn’t get… upset.”

Joel leans back, spreading his arms along the back of the couch, your eyes catching quickly on the way his biceps flex as you glance up. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweets. First time, eh, maybe, but I’ve always been in control, darlin’. No time you came since then I didn’t say so.” He lounges back further, arms crossing over his chest now, looking beyond satisfied as he sees you start to wrack your brain.

Hazy memories of Joel, urging you on in those intimate moments start to come to mind. ‘Let go’, he’d say, ‘Go on and feel good’ - all permissions you suppose that you had missed in the heat of the moment. It always just happened when he told you to, like he knew how close you were to that edge already and wanted to own that, too. 

“I guess that’s true…” you admit, twisting your lips to the side as you bite the skin inside. “So… that means… I should wait for you to say, like before…?”

“Or ask,” Joel interrupts. “Nice and polite for daddy, f’course.”

You nod slowly, taking the information in like a sponge, glancing at your hands fiddling in your lap. Anxiety looms overhead, a question you’re afraid to ask but terrified more of what could happen if the rule is broken. “What if -”

“You won’t,” Joel interrupts again, his voice stern, certain. “You’ll learn. You can control it, and be a good girl and wait for daddy’s permission. Thas’ why it’s on the paper, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, just giving him a dutiful nod for a few quiet beats. “Yes, sir,” you finally reply submissively, voice tiny and mousy under his command.

“Enough questions. Let’s take a break, hm?” Joel cocks his head, giving you a half smile. You nod and gather up your paper and pencil into your lap, wondering if the rule to being on your knees for Joel also applied to standing up off of them.

“Up, darlin’,” he commands, seeing your tense, watchful expression. “Daddy’s missin’ you, wants to feel his favorite girl in his lap for a bit.”

You press your lips together, trying to hide a coy smile but let it slip through, anyhow, glancing at Joel as you stand up and smooth your sweater. You gingerly set your list on the side table and Joel pats his lap eagerly when you turn back to face him. His eyes only devour devour devour as they drag over your entire body. The pretty pink socks you’d chosen next to all that negative space under the hem of the long sweater were such a god damned tease on those legs of yours. Such an innocent display, yet knowing more than well just what it would do to him. 

You surprise yourself by how assured you feel in your movements as you climb onto the couch, seating yourself on Joel’s lap, legs stretched off to the side over his thighs with your ass planted right next to his. Joel’s arms wrap you up, pulling your top half into him. You rest your head down onto his shoulder, savoring the quiet of the moment. You can hear Joel’s calm breathing, the chirping of birds outside and the way snow drips off of the rooftop as it melts - spring is well on its way now. Fresh starts, new beginnings, it all starts to swell in your heart as you think of moving away from this bleak winter and into new beginnings. 

With Joel. 

Joel breathes you in, a nose to your hair. “Blossom, I’ve got some bad news f’you,” Joel states, protective hands roaming your body wherever he pleases. One lands firmly on your ass as it protrudes outward, patting it softly a few times, almost absentminded in his movements. 

“Oh…” you reply, feeling your face fall, awaiting further explanation. 

“I’ve got to head to Jackson soon. Long overdue for a restock, now that the weather broke some. An’ they’ll be waitin’ on me over there.” He locks concerned eyes with you, carefully gauging your reaction.

“Oh…” you say another time, frowning. “A-and… alone?” you squeak out, already knowing the answer.

Joel nods sorrowfully, bringing a preemptively soothing hand to cup your cheek. “It ain’t safe out there for my sugar. You jus’ got out of the mess out there, right? Need to keep you safe right here.” Joel knows that you’re lonely, oh so lonely, and this timing couldn’t be worse, but it’s a good test - he’ll get to see your resolve, your dedication to him. 

“B-but…” you start, the words drifting away into the empty space around you. Joel’s eyes glance past you to the paper you’d been working on all morning, sitting on the side table, the words you know he’s simmering about right now ringing through your head.

Do NOT question him.

So you don’t. “Okay, daddy,” you say with resignation, sighing and letting your head fall back past his shoulder and onto the back of the couch with a sigh. 

Joel rubs your back in soothing circles. “I know, I know. Jus’ a few days, though. I got plans to keep you safe. An’ I’ll be bringin’ back plenty of good stuff for us, sweetheart.”

You nod, knowing the sad look is permeating your energy, a frown stuck on your lips. You’re not even sure what it is about Joel leaving that makes you feel this way - you’re certainly not opposed to having some space after having your world flipped upside down by Joel this past week, but you’ll miss the way he makes you feel safe, seems to anticipate your needs before you even think about it. You already find yourself feeling somewhat lost at the thought of being without him, and it scares the hell out of you.

Joel pinches one of your cheeks as you stare up at the ceiling from where your head rests back, contemplating. “You gonna miss me, hm? Miss your ol’ daddy while he’s gone?” Joel pinches your cheek several more times, clearly trying to get you to smile. You lift your head and look over at him, finally cracking a soft grin.

“I will, daddy. Of course,” you reply sweetly. 

Joel looks more satisfied, his eyes drifting down your body and falling at your knees before he frowns a little. “Aw, baby,” he tuts, reaching a hand to stroke along your scuffed, dry kneecaps. “So good for daddy, aren’t you? Didn’t complain once about this.”

You shake your head, going a little sullen. You hadn’t dared complain, not when kneeling was one of the rules. “N-no, sir.”

“They hurtin’? Need a little kiss from daddy?” Joel strokes the side of your head gently, gazing at you with his eyes softened as much as it seems Joel is capable of. There’s still a hardness there, something dark that always looms, swirls deep in the dark brown of his eyes and continues to draw you into him.  

You find his tone makes you start to pout naturally, letting your lips push out and into a frown. You nod, just a dip down of your head. “Yes, please…” you mutter, almost embarrassed that you do want that from him. The offer of this little gesture of care makes your heart squeeze tight while you watch him lean down, lips connecting to your knee. Joel just barely flutters his lips on your right knee before doing the same to your left. He gives you a wily grin when he pulls back, cupping your cheek.

“Gonna kiss y’somewhere else now, too,” he teases, his voice lower. His lips find yours and he kisses you deeply, rubbing his hands along your hurting knees. You wince a little but let him continue the touch, trying to ignore how sensitive they feel right now. Joel’s mouth invites you in, opening for a deeper kiss, his tongue starting a dance with yours. You gladly accept, your body quickly melding into one with his, nerves starting to light up with desire. 

“Daddy wants to show ya how much he’ll miss you when he’s gone,” Joel says, a little breathless against your lips before kissing you again. You start to feel the now familiar warmth spreading across your skin and lean into him, letting more of your weight press against his chest. Joel’s hands find your legs, gripping one of your calves to drag it across his lap, turning your body so that you’re straddling him. All the while he never stops the eager way his lips continue to meet yours, like he couldn’t possibly get enough of it. You’re enjoying the slowness of it all, despite need throbbing at your center already, wishing he’d help you in the way only Joel knows how, that almost shameful part of you that you’re still coming to grips with.

You whimper quietly into his mouth when Joel moves your hips for you, forcing you to rock forward on his lap. His arousal bulges through the material of the sweatpants, immediately meeting your damp center as he brushes the head of his clothed cock against your panties. Your little moans grow louder when Joel repeats the motion several times, the friction becoming heavenly as you lose yourself to it. 

“Mmm, good girl, you like that, don’t ya?” Joel asks in a low, coarse rumble, his hands sliding tighter around your back to pull you close. You feel yourself press against his bare chest, his skin hot, felt even through the fabric of your shirt. You find yourself shy to answer, just a minute nod as you bury your head against his shoulder with a muffled mhm.

“Say ‘yes, daddy,’” Joel snips, his hand splaying across the back of your head before his fingers curl in, fisting your hair. His other hand stays on the small of your back, urging your hips to continue grinding on him. You shudder as your clit brushes harder against him, 

“Y-yes, daddy,” you force out, your face warming against his bare skin. Your head is yanked back suddenly before Joel’s hand slides forward, one of his thick fingers hooking into the o-ring on your collar to hold you steady. 

“Now say ‘please fuck me, daddy’,” Joel continues, his brows knit closely as he watches you, a gentle, steady pull of your collar felt against your neck. 

“I’m not supposed to say stuff like t-that…” You shake your head a little, recalling the way you’d been brutally scolded around age thirteen after learning a few new curse words from a girl that Josephine had dubbed an awful, terrible influence on you. You hadn’t been allowed to see her after that. Despite your community's rules against cursing or using the Lord’s name in vain, you still heard each and every curse word under the sun over the years you lived there from people in a weak moment, a brief slip up, quietly filing each one into your brain purely out of curiosity. 

“Heard one slip before princess,” Joel huffs, eyes starting to heat up as they bore into you. “An’ whose rules are those, hm? Are those daddy’s rules?” Joel shoots his free hand up to your chin, a tight grip that makes you wince. “Is that on that paper over there?” he spits out with a little more venom. You tremble a little, trying to shake your head as much as you can in his grasp. 

“No s-sir. That’s not your rules…” you whimper. 

“Thas’ right. So what do you say?”

“Please f-fuck… me, daddy…” You speak quietly, that curse word heavy on your tongue after having been mostly said only inside the confines of your own head before. Just because you’d been banned from saying them, you’d liked having the little secret in your head where you said them anyways, trying to see if anyone would know, be able to tell your guilty pleasure. 

“Think you could do better than that. Daddy ain’t sure he believes you, now.” Joel smirks, amused. He can tell you liked saying fuck despite the way your sullen eyes casted down when you’d spoken, still getting used to the feel of curse words on your tongue. Joel is still slowly helping your hips grind against him, light and slow, just enough to work you up and have you starting to soak through your cotton panties. 

You bite your lip nervously, and then meet his heavy lidded gaze, trying to appear more confident even though your heart is ready to thump right out of your chest, eyes burning with the sting of tears. Joel catches your clit on the clothed head of his dick and you whine quietly, starting to feel desperation clawing at you for some kind of relief from your aching sex. 

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you say, and Joel’s hips involuntarily buck up into yours, sending you gasping and him groaning. His eyebrows shoot up in the moment, surprised at just how much you’d committed that time. You have to fight the urge to clamp your hand over your mouth in shock, in penance, willing the words to disappear from the air, that God himself might come down and punish you. You can’t decide whose punishment would be worse, in the end. 

Joel’s face is lit up, activated, while he reaches between your bodies, his movements a little frenzied as he finds the waistband of his sweatpants and tugs it down just enough to pull his cock out. It springs free almost violently in his haste, and he grunts as his breathing picks up. 

“Eager little girl for daddy today, aren’t ya? One taste of my cock and you can’t get enough, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you choke out obediently, feeling his cock pressing hastily against your panties, just the thin bit of fabric separating you two now. You think you’d say yes to anything right now, barely able to focus on anything but that large appendage trying to press through your underwear. 

You can scarcely breathe properly at the anticipation you’re feeling, a nervous fluttering low in your belly at the idea of being stretched the way you were last night. Joel had promised you’d get more used to it, that this would become even more fun for you, and you try to place your faith in his words as fear creeps in. 

“Now don’t you dare ever say those words to anyone else. Be a good, proper girl, and don’t curse unless I say so,” Joel demands softly, his hand scratching along the back of your head, fingers massaging into your scalp. 

“Yes, daddy,” you murmur quietly before he brings his lips to yours, hands moving quickly to adjust your hips upwards to position himself, fingers tugging your panties to the side. He keeps his eyes locked on yours before scanning your face, watching your mouth pop open in a stunned, shaky inhale when he starts to slide himself in, the bulbous head burning at your entrance just like it did last night. You’re almost holding your breath, sparks exploding across your skin as your cunt starts to eagerly take him in despite the pain, desperate for him. Like it doesn’t know how to live without Joel now.

“Shh…” he coos, watching in amazement as your brows twitch together, mouth still hanging slightly agape while he brings you down further, your entire body tensing up. “She still sore, sugar?”

You nod, tears pricking at your eyes now but you breathe in and out slowly, starting to relish in everything you’re feeling. Something so wrong feeling so right, and for the first time, you start to just let yourself enjoy it with no strings attached.

“It hurts…” You try to remember the breathing from last night, the way you’d finally been able to relax your body enough for it to start feeling good. Bring me back to that, you plead with your aching body. 

Joel presses his forehead to yours. already sticky with sweat and shushes you quietly again. “I know… gonna take some time to get used to daddy’s fat cock, baby,” Joel sympathizes, his lips finding your nose and giving it a few tender kisses as he continues to pull your hips down. You feel on the verge of something like passing out, the most overwhelmingly full sensation filling your belly, your eyes wanting to roll back as you cling to Joel. forehead presses harder into his and your breathing shakes as your fingers move to his hair, gripping onto the curls at the base of his neck. 

“I c-can’t d-do more…”

“No, no, none of that… almost there…” Joel coos sweetly as he forces your hips the tiniest bit more, and you whine, gritting your teeth. “She’s so full, huh? Mmm…” Joel starts to lose himself again, just like last night, and you try to tug a little on his hair to keep him present in hopes he wouldn’t hurt you as much as he did before. 

“Okay, okay… f-fuck, sweetheart. Fits like a damn glove though, so perfect.” Joel tilts his head to kiss your lips, and you eagerly meet them despite your labored breathing, hoping to calm your nerves. 

He starts to slowly drag out, the friction heavenly and sending you groaning quietly into Joel’s mouth. He pushes back in, starting a tiny rhythm with it and you nearly choke, pain bursting through your core as you adjust. 

“Goooood girl…” he rumbles, a long, contented sigh pushing out of his nostrils. “So good… Made for me… made for this cock, honey. Look at ya…” Joel praises you with a few more kisses, keeping the steady pace in and out of you. You’re starting to pant, that desperate heat taking over and pulling your body down onto Joel’s lap with each thrust of his. You throw your arms around his neck, clinging on as your head tucks into his shoulder, whimpering. It’s still on the verge of too much, Joel’s size now reaching an entirely new depth inside of you - a feeling you can’t quite describe and never could have imagined.

“No, no, sugar, look at me when you’re full’a me… eyes right here,” Joel says, tugging your head back by the collar, keeping it held there with his fingers curled around the leather strap. Your worried, dazed eyes find his, comforted by the dark brown irises that look at you with such admiration and zeal right now. 

“Y’can do it, help daddy ride this cock,” Joel purrs, both hands on either side of your hips now, keeping a slow, steady rhythm. You feel fat tears squeezing out of the corners of your eyes, your body starting to melt for him but the pain never truly subsiding. “That’s it, blossom, oh you’re a good girl for daddy today ain’t you?” Joel smirks, satisfied as a little moan slips out of you, cunt starting to weep around his cock, only easing his way in and out of you.

“Y-yes, daddy,” you whimper on the tail end of a breathy moan. Joel’s eyes are narrow, transfixed on your features, loving the way you react to each movement with a renewed sense of wonder and eagerness. That tiny hint of fear he sees mixed in with everything else is what urges him on, is what he’s decided he lives for.  

The slow pace, his cock brushing against every part of you with each movement has you struggling to keep your eyes open for him, the pleasure sending them fluttering shut as you clutch onto the couch cushion on either side of Joel’s head. Your body seems to be thinking for you again, your inexperienced mind barely even able to comprehend the way it moves, angles itself as you perch above Joel’s lap and grind your way down. Your mouth hangs open, stunned as you find your clit stimulated just enough by the friction between your two bodies to start filling your lower belly with that tingling warmth. 

“D-daddy?” you ask desperately, the feeling ramping up quicker than you’d intended, a sudden fear gripping your heart in a chokehold that you’ll let go before it’s okay, that you’ll break your new set of rules so quickly. Please, please, you quickly beg yourself, hold on for him. 

“Hang on t’ the feelin’, sweetheart, I know you can,” Joel coaches you, one hand still on your collar and the other brushing along the side of your head to comfort you. “C’mon…” he urges, a little more excited as he grins devilishly at you. You bite the inside of your cheek, choking back the moans, trying to slow your movements on top of him and shake your head. 

“Please…” you whisper quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to focus on anything else. You try old prayers, the feel of the cold ground when you’d been out on your own, your least favorite foods, but come up short. Nothing can compare, can overtake the fiery feeling burning its way through you. 

“One more…” Joel smirks, gently slapping a hand to your asscheek as you hesitantly chase your high, your face the most beautiful mixture of worry and pleasure he’s ever seen. He loves to hear you beg, pretty pleases falling from your lips for him and nobody else - never again for anybody else.

“P-please,” you beg with a little more gusto, leaving Joel smiling at you as his cock hardens more inside of you, aching for release when he hears you beg for him. 

“Come, baby. Come for daddy,” he says, his voice now losing it’s cool facade and sounding more urgent, excitement sweeping his features as he watches you start to moan louder and shudder. 

It’s too much, Joel doesn’t have the control he wishes for yet - it’s all too new, too many years wasting in longing for a moment just like this, for his perfect little pet to come along. You. You are going to be everything and more, and he has no resolve, no control over himself when it comes to you and your inexperienced little cunt that you have no idea how to use yet. He’ll be completely wrecked when that day comes, he thinks cheekily to himself as you continue whimpering, face slick with a sheen of sweat while you bear down on him and shake, moaning quieter than he’d like to hear. But he lets it slide for now, knowing that someday he’ll have you shaking the walls of this damn cabin with your cries and moans and pitiful screams of his name. 

Joel fucks his hips up into you a few more times as he runs away with his thoughts before quickly slipping out, just in time for his cum to splatter upwards onto his belly and chest as he breathes heavily with a loud grunt. 

“Shit, babygirl…” he moans quietly as his head flops towards the back of the couch, and you stare down between your bodies with your lips parted, trying to catch your breath. You can’t help but notice the mess he’s made on you too - your sweater marked with the evidence of what you two have done in white splotches. Weirdly, it makes you smile, a coy little turn of your lips that makes you feel proud to have affected him so much that he’s still taking his time to recoup. You slide off of Joel’s lap and snuggle up to him, Joel quickly and greedily accepting the way you press into him, his arms snaking around you while you curl into him and put your own arms around his shoulders. 

“When?” you ask quietly, your cheek tight against his bare, slightly damp chest. 

Joel’s fingers start to run patterns along your back, so gentle for a man oh so rough, and your eyes flutter closed. “Today.”

You frown and then nod against him so he can feel it, know you’ve acknowledged his answer in some way. But you suddenly feel like pouting, like this is completely unfair of him to spring on you so suddenly, just when you were starting to adjust to things with him.

“C’mon then, let’s get up, yeah? Daddy’s gotta get goin’.”

Hmph. You make the tiny noise and snake your arms tighter around his neck, squishing your face down so that your cheek is crushed, clinging to him. 

Joel chuckles goodnaturedly, starting to rub your back a little harder. “Only three days, sweetheart. You’ll be safe here.”

You squeeze tighter, and Joel’s hand quickly slides to the back of your neck, fingers under the collar in warning, the other hand tightening against your back.

Joel makes a quiet noise, a tiny grunt of disapproval as he shifts underneath you, trying to move you off of him. “Knock it off. Don’t make this harder than it has to be f’me. You think I like leavin’ you?”

“Idunno,” you mumble, mouth crushed against his skin. You know Joel doesn’t like this any more than you do, that he’s likely terrified to leave you alone, break this strange attachment you’re starting to have to him in the few days he’ll be away. But you can’t help but feel hurt, irritation surging through you in an unfair burst towards Joel.

“Think you’ll want to try that again, princess,” he says sternly, his muscles taut underneath you. A warning, a last chance before you may face your first real, deliberate punishment from him.

You sigh dejectedly, loosening your grip on him some, and he wriggles a little at the freedom, situating himself below you as his gaze narrows a little. “Of course not, daddy, no,” you say quietly, sighing again.

“That’s right. So let’s get me goin’ so it’ll be sooner I’ll come back, yeah?” Joel watches you tenderly, hating the fact that he has to leave you, too. But he can’t show it, can’t let you rope him into staying somehow - this is for the both of you, for him to provide for this precious thing he’s lucky enough to have under his wing. 

You nod with a few small bounces of your head, glassy eyes looking into his. “Y-yes… sir…”

You stand, fingertips gingerly placed on the glass of the window as you reach across the sink, leaned forward to get a better look. Your eyes scan the empty forest surrounding you, bright sun shining down as grass starts to peek through the now thinning layer of snow. 

Come see me off Joel had said, uncharacteristically sweet, as he placed you by the window you now stand in front of, telling you to wait until he’d passed to walk away. You frown, recalling how you’d followed him sulkily around the cabin, watching as he got dressed and gathered his things with a pout etched on your lips that Joel purposefully ignored. You’d broken away at his lack of attention and traipsed to that closet near the entryway, grabbing the chain and hauling it out, looking at Joel with sad, expectant eyes.

He’d only shook his head, a calloused hand meeting yours where it gripped the cold metal and using his thumb to stroke along the back of your hand, sweet like he was doing you a favor. 

Not this time he’d whispered, face merely inches from yours. You won’t leave. You’d nearly cried, holding it back with lips pressed tight, knowing he was right. Knowing you wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Leaving - the option felt far away now, hard to grasp, like your mind couldn’t quite imagine going back to the horrors that the outside world offered. You had a world here - a warm world where you were fed and no harm could befall you if Joel could help it. Your vicious protector. They’d been wrong about Paradise before, you thought to yourself, because this felt like the closest thing you could get in this diseased, hopeless world.

While he didn’t chain you up, Joel had been keen to let you know that the front door was going to be specially locked from the outside before showing you the shiny key and slipping it into his pocket. Windows were off limits, too, unless you decided to open them just a crack. It wasn’t worth it to risk breaking through a window to sneak off, anyways, you thought with a hopeless pang to your heart.

Try anythin’, you know I’ll find you… he’d warned, cold and calculated as his lips pressed against yours a final time before slinging his backpack over his back.

Joel comes into view a few moments later, riding on Willow, his saddle packed with pouches and rucksack softly bouncing along his back. A small cart rolls behind Willow, a risky move to travel back from Jackson with so much supply, such an easy target, but you can’t imagine anyone that would dare go up against Joel. You frown even deeper, seeing the finality of it all now laid out in front of you. Three days of silence. Three days of a cold bed. Three days of no Joel.

You should have felt free, any form of relief to see him go, to gain back a piece of your life for even a few days, but all you could muster up was your heart clenching, an all encompassing anxiety you didn’t know how to shake. 

It was like watching paint dry, waiting for Joel to come home. And you may as well have been, the way you’d stared on aimlessly, considering your situation while he was gone. It was lonely but had its freedoms at the same time - you’d tried to think about it practically when you ached to have him near again. Reminding yourself there was nobody here to worry over your every move, yet you found yourself missing the discipline. It was an area you were comfortable living in, the harshness of it all, the constant discipline, eyes watching your every decision. Your entire life had really been about that one word, and now you had an entire quiet home to yourself, unable to really enjoy it. 

You filled your time admiring the world out the windows, practically measuring just how much snow was left with your eyes, watching it melt down to the soggy, off color grass underneath. You tried to prepare yourself meals, creating new dishes and warming up the things Joel had left for you, but you found little interest in eating any of it, thinking of the way you’d shared this table with him in more ways than one. Eating meals, his hands all over you, that first, hesitant kiss, the way he’d made you fear him and revere him right in this very spot, you recall as you stare down at the grain of the wood with unseeing eyes. But you’d promised Joel that you’d take care of yourself, fill your belly with his spoils while he was gone, keeping you strong and healthy for him. He wanted his girl strong and healthy, he’d insisted as he showed you around the kitchen, making sure you were briefed on everything he had for you to eat while he was gone.

Each time you empty your plate, you wish you could show Joel, have him look proudly at you, pet your head and whisper how good you are for him in that gravelly accent of his. You shudder at the thought, that feeling in between your legs aching for him more and more with each hour that passes. Joel hardly had to warn you what would happen if you dared to touch yourself while he was gone - the memory of that night with the knife had seared into your mind enough to solidify the fact that you don’t think you’d even dare, despite his watchful eyes being miles away. It’s not like you’d know how to make yourself feel the way Joel does, anyway.

You garner enough courage to snoop around the cabin when you feel bored, but don’t disturb anything of importance, too afraid, keeping your fingers nimble and quiet, as if Joel could sense your movements even from afar. Wherever he is right now, you wonder throughout the day with wistful sighs. You don’t find much - mostly junk that was left in the home, none of it really seeming like Joel’s. The most interesting thing was an old grocery list, worn with age but otherwise well intact - you’d bet that Joel had found this place mostly untouched despite the years passing with how remote it seems. You held the list in your hands, a tiny connection to the old world, everything checked off except for radishes, and you wonder to yourself what it must have been like, carrying this little list through a crowded shop, unable to find your radishes but it didn’t matter, none of it mattered when life was a breeze, when you didn’t have to worry about the fact that the entire world had burned to the ground. 

You later discover a few more chains in that front closet, different lengths and cuffs and even one that looks like it could clip onto your collar - you touch the o-ring on the front of your adornment while your stomach does flips, an eerie feeling washing over you as you wonder how and when Joel would even use that. It sinks low, that pesky feeling between your thighs ramping up again and you slam the closet shut in frustration. You want to scream, but find you just can’t, your throat not up to the task, still too afraid that this is all some sick test, that Joel is perched right outside in the woods right now, watching and listening.

Instead, you stomp away, breathing heavily out of your nostrils, until you spot a door you’d hardly noticed on the first floor until now, always sealed shut. It’s down the hallway next to the staircase, hidden away a bit in the shadows past the powder room.

You approach with caution, swallowing a fearful lump in your throat as you dance forward on tiptoes, starting to tremble. This feels wrong - Joel had never taken to showing you this space, maybe for a reason. Who knows what horrors lay beyond the wooden door, what you could discover that you’ll never be able to turn back from. Your mind spins, going to the most wild of places when your fingers curl around the old crystal and brass doorknob and turn.

Your jaw drops at the normalcy of it all after building it up in your mind. Warm late evening light streams in through the singular window, a simple square room with a desk along the wall right underneath the window. You frown, moving forward a bit and taking in the smell - distinctly wood, fresh as you breathe it in and savor it. The room looks like it's otherwise used for some storage - nothing interesting seeming enough to go through it, but the desk. That’s Joel’s space - a large wooden slab covered with smaller pieces of wood to work with, shavings still spread across the desk along with some small tools. Everything is arranged neatly, however, much like the rest of the cabin, but you can feel that this place is cared for above the rest, a place for him to get away, lose himself for a while.

“W-woodworking…?” you murmur in a whisper, almost a question to yourself. You gape a little as you get closer, seeing what looks like the beginnings of a new project - something resembling a human shape in the works. You wonder when he's been working on this, or if he has at all since you’d arrived here, perplexed as to when he would have found the time. You feel your heart hammering, like you’re seeing something you aren’t supposed to. Something… soft, kind about Joel, a part of himself that he was keeping secret from you. He has hobbies, something he gives his time to that isn’t malicious or bad or monstrous. No, you decided too long ago now that Joel is not a monster, but just a man in need of something. 

Something you’ve seemingly been able to fill. 

You feel your face fall further, realizing the humanity of Joel laid out in front of you in such a small thing. Shavings of wood on a desk. It could be so much easier if you just hated him for it all - if you fought and clawed with each interaction instead of giving in. If you hadn’t had his spend staining your sweater that you’d refused to change when he left, savoring the lingering smell of him on it. If you didn’t feel your heart reaching out to him in his absence right now, wanting to ask daddy, what are you working on in here? as you stand in the doorway of this very room, a vision clear as day to you as Joel invites you by his side while he works. Whittling away on his project and looking at you contentedly, petting you softly, your body chained to the floor by your collar. And you loving it. 

You gasp, sucking in a hefty breath, choking back on the sob that wracks you as you pull yourself from the daydream that may as well be a prediction of your future. You hunch over, clutching your stomach, knees unable to fully hold you up as you start to cry. You sink to the middle of the floor, a woven rug cushioning your frame as you curl up, staining this house with another batch of your pathetic tears. And you can’t decide if you hate yourself more for it than you do Joel. 

On the third day, you wake up slow, rolling over in bed and remembering that the other side of it has been empty for days now. You feel completely exhausted, dried up after the way you’d cried last night before stripping your clothing and crawling into bed. Naked, just in case Joel came home in the night. Just the way he’d asked you to sleep every night since arriving here, and every one going forward. 

You stretch your arms above your head as you groan, finding despite it all, you feel a little lighter knowing that Joel is supposed to be back today - three days, he’d said like a promise, and you got the feeling he was the type of man intent on keeping it. 

Once you blink a few more times, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you feel it. Something… off, your inner thighs feeling a bit wet and sticky underneath the covers. Your stomach twists a little in pain and that’s when you know. 

“O-oh… no… s-shoot…” you mumble to yourself, practically jumping out of bed and grasping at the side of it, throwing the comforter down towards the foot of the bed. You peer down at the sheets, red permeating the green checked pattern of the flannel and shake your head. 

“No…” you whimper, glancing down to see red between your thighs, just starting to smear them the tiniest bit. You bite your lip, panicking for a moment, wondering what Joel will think of all of this - the mess you’ve made on his bed, his sheets stained to hell. You rush to the dresser, tearing open the drawers in search of anything you can use, settling on a plain white tank top of Joel’s to stuff between your thighs as you wriggle a pair of underwear and comfortable pants over top of it, your fingers shaking along the way. A haphazard grab of a tee shirt sends you rushing back to the bed as you pull it over your head and start to strip the sheets, trying to breathe through the oncoming wave of pain and nausea you’re feeling in your abdomen. 

You toss the sheets in the bath, stumbling along the way in your dazed panic and cramping midsection, terrified of Joel coming home to a mess. Leave you for three days an’ this is what you do? Trash my place, hm? You hear versions of Joel’s scolding run through your head at lightning speed, imagining all the ways he could punish you, could hurt you with just his words alone, taking away your status as a good girl for him being the one that starts the tears falling. Your throat tightens and you scrub and scrub, the red stain fading but in no way disappearing. You’re frenzied, scrubbing as you cry loudly to your harsh, imaginary reprimands from Joel, so distracted you don’t hear the sound of bootfall, the worried call of ‘Blossom? Sugar…?’ over the roaring rush of the water coming out of the tap. 

Joel stops short in the doorway to the bathroom, even his shadow looming not enough to pull you out of your crazed trance, desperate to fix everything, to avoid what you’re certain is coming. “What in the hell?” Joel spits out loudly, “Is goin’ on in here?”

You gasp, hands dropping the soaking wet sheets, a loud plop into the bathtub ringing through the now otherwise silent, tense room. You scramble to stand up, hands dripping water as you try to wipe them off on your clothing. Joel’s eyes flash down to the water, slightly discolored before noticing the large red spot on the sheets, then your panicked face, a complete mess as you stand disheveled in front of him. You’re frozen in fear, unable to explain, barely even able to process that Joel is back home, that he’s in the room with you right now. 

You head bows down, fat tears dripping off your cheeks and splattering onto the tile. “P-please, d-daddy,” you whimper, choking back a sob. “D-don’t punish me please please please! I’m sorry, it was an accident,” you pant out, already on the verge of losing it. You feel like you’re about to break down, knees wobbly, threatening to give out on you any moment. You don’t understand it, the way your emotions are pulling so heavily on you right now - you know your nerves are fraught after the last few days but you wonder if you look as pitiful as you feel right now, begging for forgiveness for something you haven’t even been chastised for yet.

“Darlin’, Christ, what in the hell -” Joel starts to murmur at the absolute state of you, eyes catching again on that stain you’d been trying to scrub out of the sheets. His face falls with the full realization, eyes glancing between your legs for a moment as if he’ll find further proof of his suspicion there, only to find you clad in your sweatpants.

You’re unrelenting, head bowed deeply, tears never ending, and Joel finds himself torn between being irritated by the completely misplaced blubbering and his compulsion to care for you, comfort you.

“Jesus…” he sighs. “Out. Now. Go wait in the bedroom f’me while I take care of it.”

“B-but -” you protest.

“What’d we say about fuckin’ questionin’ me, princess?” he snips, pinching the bridge of his nose quickly before letting the hand drop dramatically to his side. “Out. Bedroom. Now.” he speaks each word with a renewed vigor, voice full of a rich gravel, deadly serious and sending a chill up your spine. You whimper but go to rush past him, not able to bear meeting his eyeline as your shoulder brushes against his. He swings around in a flash and grabs your wrist, jerking you back from where you’d already stepped past him. You cry out, flinching in preparation for the impact but Joel’s hand only darts under the waistband of your pants (a rule broken to even have them on in the first place, you realize grimly) and slides into your underwear. He quickly cups your bare cunt and starts to rub a few circles on your clit, making you cry out again desperately. You don’t want this, not in your current state, not with the way things are down there right now, messy and impure for him. A man will want nothing to do with you this time of the month, you’d always been told, Josephine’s voice ringing clear in your head. It was even best to avoid them altogether at that special womanly time if you could.

“D-daddy… I’m - no don’t… it’s not… you won’t like it,” you stutter out desperately, praying he won’t be completely repulsed by the sight of you now and throw you out for the wolves and clickers to make quick work of what remained of you.

Joel huffs, fingers prodding at your tight entrance, slipping a knuckle inside. You clench and grit through your teeth when his grasp digs into your wrist hard. He starts to finger you at a faster pace, pushing past your discomfort until you start to moan quietly, eyes still trained on the floor, only able to catch a glimpse of the way his hand is moving inside of your panties out of the corner of your eye.

Joel yanks his hand out, smeared red and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding back another sob. “Don’t ever tell daddy what he likes and doesn’t like again, got it?” You nod dutifully and his hand is gone as quickly as it had grabbed you moments ago. “Now, let me do what I gotta do in here,” he says, a hint softer, shooing you away. You don’t bother to look back, surprised Joel hadn’t even made you meet his eyeline at some point during this entire interaction. But the entirety of you is burning with embarrassment, shame, hot all the way from your cheeks and ears down to your churning belly. You pace back and forth in the bedroom, holding back loud sobs as you choke into your hand before completely breaking down, sinking to the floor next to the bed and leaning your back onto the frame.

You don’t know how long you cry for, how long your head is buried down in your arms in your miserable, curled up state. You hardly start to feel anything at all after a while, finally resigning yourself to whatever form of punishment or worse for what you’ve done. Between this and last night, you’re feeling like a shell, nothing left to offer up to Joel other than whimpered apologies and promises. 

You don’t quite register the sound of his boots on the hardwood, stepping over towards you before you feel him on you, thick, strong arms wrapping around your shoulders. Here to love, here to comfort, not punish you, your mind taking a few moments to process it. 

“Shh… my little blossom… it’s okay…” Joel murmurs when he hears you sniffle, your body twitching as you come down from the wracking sobs you’d been wailing out. “Can you look at daddy, please?”

You whine quietly, shaking your head in defiance but still picking it up, looking at him with your face puffy and cheeks wet, bloodshot eyes making Joel feel a pang of pity in his heart.

And yet, he smiles at the sight of you. 

“There’s my girl. I missed you, baby, d’ya know that?” His fingers brush your cheeks, hot and soaked with tears as he brushes some of the wetness away. You just frown, mouth slightly ajar as you stare at him, feeling almost numb after the way you’d cried your poor heart out two days in a row now. 

“Hey now, it’s okay.  This is all natural, sweetheart, now how could daddy be mad about your body doin’ what it’s gotta do?” 

You shake your head in disbelief, finding your world turned on its head yet another time by Joel. How could it be possible that he felt so differently than everyone you’ve known, everything you’ve been taught? Who was even in the right here? What was the truth?

“I- I -“ you stutter, blinking a few times in a daze before another hiccup rolls through you. “I thought men didn’t like that…”

Joel breathes out a small laugh, breaking the tension. “Some, I guess. Now who taught you that?”

Your cheeks warm again and you glance down, shying away. You know Joel already knows the answer, that he wants to hear you say it, admit another thing you’ve been in the dark about. 

“M-my group… my community…” You realize you’re sniffling again, tears welling in your eyes as you’re hit with a strange sense of homesickness. You don’t know that you want to go back, necessarily, but your heart squeezes a little at the thought of the life you’d led for so long that was too suddenly ripped out from underneath you to really process it. 

“Well, they gave you more than one piece of bogus information, haven’t they sweetheart?”

“I… I- suppose so,” you admit tentatively, “B-but the sheets… I’m sorry, daddy, I really am…” you start, feeling yourself about to spiral out of control again but Joel quickly reigns it in with a tight squeeze of your cheeks between his hands. 

“Enough,” he says sternly but with an edge of care. “I took care of it. You can’t get so worked up ‘bout things like this, honey, thas’ why we made the rules, remember?” Joel fully sits next to you on the floor you now, gently tilting your head to keep your watery eyes on his. 

“Y-yes…”

“Nothin’ on there ‘bout makin’ a mess, right?” A curt nod from you. “Daddy’s more upset about how upset you are right now. I’m not gonna punish y’for gettin’ your damn period, sugar. I…” he sighs, a small ache of sadness apparent on his features for just a beat. “I ain’t a monster.” Words he isn’t sure he believes about himself, but ones he hopes that you do.

You feel your eyes widen a little at his choice of words, ones that had gone through your head not even twenty four hours prior. You reach up, gently touch the hand cradling your face, and nod again. 

“Y-you’re not…” you assure him, still a stuttering mess, but the both of you seem to relax in an instant, Joel content to just hold onto you for a few silent moments as he helps you breathe in and out, urging you to relax into him. 

“I’ve got somethin’ f’you,” Joel says softly as you lean on him, head melting into his shoulder as you continue to hiccup and tremble, your body fighting to calm down after such an upheaval.

“Yeah?” you ask, lifting your head to peer up at him. Joel scoots forward, pushing himself off of the floor with a loud, strained grunt before offering you his hand. You take it, letting him help you up and show you over towards the dresser, where he pulls over the rickety wooden chair that adorns the corner of the room. You’re eager now as he reaches into his pocket and presents you with something small. You take it tenderly into your palm, afraid of the sudden weight of the tiny glass vial.

“Wh-” you murmur out, face furrowed in concentration as you peer down at it.

“Nail polish. Know someone who knows someone who well, kinda makes the stuff. Or rehabs old ones, or somethin’,”  Joel quickly explains, and your eyes blink rapidly as you bite the inside of your lip, hiding the elation building up inside of you, pressing against your very being.

“R-really?” you ask excitedly, eyes glued to the bottle filled with a pink, thick liquid. “I was, uh, never allowed to have this stuff,” you say more quietly, shy to admit it.

Joel’s face hardens and he presses his lips together. “That so? Why don’t that surprise me…”

“Hm?” you ask absently, still completely transfixed, rotating the tiny glass bottle in your hands. Joel lets his mumble hang in the air, not bothering to repeat it. 

“Why don’t you try it out?” he suggests, and you look up at him, quickly seeking permission. They were already hard to find on supply runs, but any beauty products were frowned upon anyways - a distraction of the modern world, taking away from what we should really be focusing on. Any discovery of such items had them removed immediately from the home in question and a generous slap on the wrist was given. 

You forget all of that history now, eagerly twisting open the bottle, immediately scrunching your nose at the strange scent that wafts out. 

“Yeah, shit stinks, babygirl. Never understood why women wanted to go ‘round smellin’ that just for some beauty,” Joel says, chuckling, sounding so strangely normal now as he rambles on. You pull the brush out, admiring the pretty pink color with a soft smile. “Can’t complain though. Good set of nails looked damn sexy ‘f I’m honest,” Joel adds more lightheartedly. You feel yourself getting warm at the idea of doing something sexy for Joel, being alluring. A foreign concept you weren’t sure you could ever find yourself used to. He stands, leaning against the wall while you awkwardly hold your hand in the air, trying to stroke the brush on your nail. It looks streaky, already getting onto the sides of your finger and you frown - it’s not quite the glamour you’d expected. You hunch over a little more as a small wave of cramps hits and try to steady yourself. Your hands are still shaky from the rush of fear and adrenaline you’d had coursing through you as Joel had arrived home to your mess. 

“Gotta do it like this, honey,” Joel says, gripping your wrist and placing your hand down flat on the vanity. You try again, brows knit in concentration but coming up with a similarly disappointing product.

“Alright, alright,” Joel interrupts. “You’re too worked up still sweetheart. Look at you shakin’.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head a little. “I ran you a bath while I was in there. C’mon now, ‘fore it gets cold.”

“Yes, daddy…” you say quietly, still looking down at your nails in disappointment.

“I’ll do ‘em for you, make you all pretty, mkay?” he says reassuringly, his eyes focused on where he’s still gently holding onto your hand but you watch them, wanting to see the look in his eyes when he says something so sweet and generous. These moments are the ones you hold and treasure - these glimpses of a man who you know cares, who wants everything good for you. 

The hot water soothes you instantly, Joel taking a moment to clean your nails of the first attempt at polishing them with a wet washcloth before having you soak them in the water. He’s quiet, contemplative as you two linger in the steamy, cramped room with Joel sat on the floor next to the tub. It’s an odd look for him, something so… servile, submissive to you, the way his hulking form hardly seems to fit in here, his outdoor clothing still clung to his muscles. He seems to be paying less mind to your body than usual despite it being fully naked, on display through the bathwater. You thought something like this would make you feel safe, but it’s doing quite the opposite.

“Up.” Joel says, breaking the silence as he taps your left forearm and you lift your hand out of the bath, laying it on the towel that Joel has draped along the edge of the tub. He dries your fingers and then takes your hand gingerly in his, rubbing his thumb along your knuckles. He unscrews the polish and gets to work, carefully stroking it along your nail, and you watch in wonder as he gets it looking much better than you had. He uses his own fingernail to scrape along the edge, picking up any of the polish that ran onto your nail beds.

“Weren’t allowed to use this stuff before, then?” Joel asks casually, breaking the silence. He’s been more than ready to dig into your past, find those pieces of you that made you who you are today, made you so vulnerable and weak when you’d showed up on his doorstep. Pieces that he fully intends on putting back together, making you whole, wholly his. 

“Y-yeah. Nothing like this. Makeup, too. Just… the rules, I guess.” Your casual reply suggests much more underneath the surface, but you just stare on at Joel’s fingers slightly clumsily painting along your fingernails.

“Y’all had a lot of rules in that community, blossom.” A statement. Fact. One you can’t deny or defend, a skill you’ve developed to rationalize your entire life in the confines of your mind over the years.

You shrug your free shoulder and twist your lips. “I guess… What about here, I have lots of rules,” you dare to say, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. 

Joel pauses and glances up, unreadable as always. “Y’do. But you’re allowed to do what you want, baby. I jus’ want you to respect me and know who you belong to. S’all, not these crazy rules like those folks had.”

You nod slowly, pondering his words - he had a point, you suppose, when he puts it like that. 

“An’ your group, there was a leader there?” Joel questions, getting back to work on your nails, carefully dipping the polish and tracing it along your fingernails. 

“Y-yeah… how’d you know that?”

Joel ignores your question, continuing on with more urgency, and you’re not quite sure what he’s getting at with all of these questions. “Tell me more. Did he… mm, enforce the rules? Talk to ya privately at all?”

“You knew it was a he…”

“‘Course it was a he, this is a cu-“ Joel pauses in the midst of his irritated snap. His free hand slides along the back of his neck in one swipe before it comes back to the edge of the tub. “Yeah, baby, I jus’ figured.”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” you spill out anxiously, your voice dimming to a quiet whisper, the air becoming too thick to breathe, like you can sense an oncoming storm. 

“Jus’ tell me more,” Joel demands. “Please, darlin’,” he adds on a little more patiently, softening for you. 

“W-well yeah. Callum was who we all looked to. Rules and preaching and stuff. And he would come over sometimes, sit and like… talk to me and stuff.” You shrug again, not sure what else Joel is looking for you to say.  

Joel’s jaw ticks slightly and his eyes narrow. His hand freezes above yours, polish brush looking so small in his huge hand. “This Callum, he ever touch you? Lay a hand on you? Do anything like what we do together?”

“N-no!” you cry out, nearly pulling your hand back from him as you sit up straighter. “Daddy I swear, I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve never…” You feel your face warm, recalling the innocence you’d arrived here with just last week. Wondering how much of it would be gone by the end of all of this. 

Joel’s free hand cups your cheek in a flash. “Okay, baby, I know all that, I believe ya. I just needed to check if this man was takin’ advantage of ya.”

You shake your head almost violently, hoping to convince Joel you aren’t lying, because you aren’t. He’s just not always been the most rational when it comes to you, it’s seemed, and you don’t want to give him any reason to get worked up. “I d-don’t think so. I know Harry and Josie, they really liked him, and I think they wanted him to like them back… and like me…”

Joel’s eyes narrow, scouring your words for any hint of hidden meaning behind them. “They ever hurt you? Any of ‘em?”l

You’re silent, lips tucked tightly together. Memories flash through your mind and you feel your body tense. Josie’s tight grip on your arm as she dragged you home after you missed your youth class to pet the horses. Harry laying into you after a similar incident. A hazy memory of Callum gripping you by the face a little too hard and inspecting you, like he was sizing you up for something. Your parents scolding you for not believing enough, your father slapping you across the face for questioning why it mattered so much to say a prayer before eating. All you’d ever wanted… was for it to all make sense. To feel like you were being told the honest truth for once. But instead, you felt that the more you asked, the more you questioned, tried to understand things, the further in the dark they’d all shoved you. Claiming it was for the best, the less you knew, the more pure you could be, and you’d never gotten the chance to understand why before it all went to hell. 

“Y-yes… just a little…” you practically whisper, ashamed to admit it. That you’d let yourself be treated that way by all of them, and now by Joel, too. 

Joel is quiet for a few moments, his hulking frame tensing up. He taps your right arm and starts the same painting process on that hand. He’s lost in thought and you can see his lines furrowing deeper on his forehead as his wheels turn. 

Joel suddenly says your name, your real name, not one of his special pet names for you and your eyes go wide, stomach sinking. You want to tell him to stop, to not say what he’s planning to, to keep his secrets and let you live on in ignorance as you have for so much of your life. “I’m gonna tell you somethin’, and I don’t know how you’re gonna like it. But you’ve gotta listen to daddy now, okay?”

Your stomach twists, the bathwater suddenly feeling too hot around you and you squirm. “O-okay…” you mumble, trying to keep yourself steady. 

“I don’t think that your group were good people, baby. You’ve told me all these rules they had, the way they treated you, treated women. An’ I don’t like the thought of how they jus’… kept you in the dark, darlin’. You deserve to be happy.”

“Uh-huh…” you nod, unable to formulate a response beyond that, eyes unblinking as you gape at Joel. 

Joel sighs, licking his lips. “Why d’you think they did that?”

“I-I don’t know. Harry and Josephine were always… trying to make me… more like them. They just… wanted a daughter like them, maybe? They c-can’t have kids…”

“Hmm.” Joel finishes your right hand, capping the nail polish and setting it aside. “They were pretty hard on you?”

You nod, eyes finally looking up to Joel’s face, seeing sympathy for you written there. “They wanted me to be a good member of the community… real badly. Prayers every day and recitations and rules and… all of it. Like I was harder to get through to, more bad than the other girls…” You shake your head, remembering the droll afternoons you’d spent staring out the window of their home as Josephine urged you to do just one more lesson, never letting up even when you’d begged to give your mind a much needed break. “Was gonna be the best girl there when they were done with me, they said…” Your voice cracks and you sniffle suddenly, not even realizing you’d started tearing up. 

“Okay, little one, it’s okay. No more memories of that right now. Just…” Joel pauses, his mouth hanging open slightly as he debates his next words. With a sigh, he gives up, opting to just blurt out his next words. “They’re a cult, baby.”

“Cult?” you ask, perplexed, voice still shaky.

“Yeah, didn’t think you’d have heard that word before if they could help it,” he mutters in reply. Joel’s eyes almost look crazed, and he grabs you by the cheeks, keeping your attention fully focused on him with a sudden resolve across his features. “They’re bad folks, that’s all. That man, that Callum, all he wants is power, in whatever way he can get it. Y’understand? Gettin’ folks to be desperate enough to look to him, give them somethin’ to believe in. False… hope. Easier in times like these even, with the world as shit as it is, than in the old days.”

You just stare at Joel, trying to understand exactly what he’s saying, what all of it means for you. “They’re not good people? They seemed so… charitable… that was… they always wanted to help people. They helped me…” you trail off, eyes drifting away from Joel’s face, fixating on the faded and worn tiles along the wall of the bathtub as your mind races. 

“Helped you by lettin’ you live, feedin’ you, puttin’ their false purposes and beliefs onto you. But they held you back. All people like them want is to keep their power or gain more of it. An’ take it from sweet little ones like you, jus’ use you as a pawn in their game, not let you express yourself like daddy would.”

You glance back at Joel feeling heavier, knowing there’s a concerned frown plastered on your face. You shake your head a little, tears gathering on the rims of your eyes. These people you’d trusted, known for almost your whole life, and yet… If what Joel said was true they were all just manipulators, power hungry, looking out for their own meals. Joel uses his thumbs to wipe your cheeks, picking up the streaks of tears trailing downwards.

“P-please, daddy… I don’t wanna hear any more…” you say, pouting, your voice starting to waver. “It’s hard…. to believe. I j-just thought I knew them… thought that they were what the world was… I’m s-so…” You lose your words in the moment, just feeling an overwhelming, profound sadness washing over you at the loss. You’d already accepted the way you’d lost your community in the physical sense after the attack, after finding Joel’s cabin and realizing you were more likely stuck here for the foreseeable future. But realizing that you possibly couldn’t bring yourself to go back there knowing what you know now, it makes your chest tighten with a pang of despair and homesickness for a home you’d never really had. You almost refuse to believe it, want to chalk it up to another one of Joel’s games, that he must be over exaggerating just how bad they really were.

Joel’s hands cradle your head again, his body moving forward to crush his forehead against yours. “S’okay to be sad, you know that? It’s a hard truth but one you gotta hear, my sweet one. I’m sorry it had to be this way. Daddy’s real sorry.”

You nod, letting Joel’s large palms warm your cheeks in the comforting embrace, the smell of him permeating at such a close distance right now. One large inhale of his musk, an intimate scent to you now, brings you back to earth, tames you.

“All I’m ever gonna ask ‘f you is to show me respect w’those rules, mkay? Nothin’ more. They might seem tough sometimes, I know. Hell, they might even seem jus’ as bad as their rules to you, but they ain’t, and you’ll come to learn that. You know what the difference is, hm?”

You shake your head, curious eyes on Joel’s as your tears start to dry. “W-what is it?”

“I care about you. I do it ‘cause it’s what you need, what you really want. An’ for good reasons. Not all that bullshit. You want to be a good girl for daddy, make me happy, make us happy, don’t you?”

“I do, swear, sir…” you reply breathlessly, nodding. “I don’t want…” You swallow hard, realizing you were about to admit that you don’t want to see them again, but you aren’t sure you can promise something that big just yet. It hurts, wondering if it would be the right decision, or if Joel is just as bad as them, just as likely to use you as a pawn in his own game. You feel a surge of heat rush over you, your skin lava hot for a flash as if Joel could read your mind, catch the doubt that flashes through it.

“I like being safe here with you,” you settle on instead, smiling softly at Joel.

Joel smiles back, clasping the palms of your hands in his, careful not to touch your still drying nails. “An’ you always will be. I got you, baby. You don’t think I’m like them, now, do you?”

You feel sick, stomach clenched and turning while your head spins. Maybe Joel is right. You have the freedom here to find yourself. The freedom to believe what you want, as long as you believe in him above all else. To do as you please, even if it’s within those small guidelines he’d laid out for you. It’s nothing like the long lists of ways to behave and act that you were used to - the endless prayers, passages on how to be the most virtuous girl, followed by the guilt and shame of being unsure of how you could ever live up to it. Here, it’s just one piece of paper - ways to make the both of you happy, allow you to rest your weary mind and show Joel that you’re thankful for the way he’s saved you. You quickly shake your head no before you take too long of a pause to answer. 

“No, daddy. You’re not,” you say decidedly, believing it. You have to, if you’re going to get through this.

“Good.” Joel’s lips turn up a little and he picks up your left hand, starting to blow softly on the nails. “Here, blow.” He nods to your right hand for you to do the same thing, so you bring it to your lips and blow softly. 

“You never have to see them again, blossom. You’re all mine now, remember?” Joel’s voice has a hint of teasing, like he wants to lighten the mood for you, and you’re more than willing to take him up on it right now. Your mind feels fried, wrecked beyond return for the day already, and you want to fall into Joel’s comforts, the way he takes away the way your mind races too much, swirling with enough worries to fill a lifetime.

“Yeah.” Soft and quiet, confirming it with a coy little smile as you drop your head towards your shoulder, giving him a wanton look and relaxing your body, stretching your legs out a little underneath the water, sending ripples across the surface. “I’m all yours.” The words feel better on your tongue than they ever have after this revelation. Only Joel, you think, only he would have the guts to tell you like it was like that, to share the truth with you. It showed some kind of respect, didn’t it? That he didn’t just hide this to spare your fragile, broken feelings. He knows how vulnerable you are, how green you’ve been raised to be, yet he thought you could handle it, that you deserved to hear what you’d been in the dark about your entire life. 

Joel’s eyes narrow a bit and he looks at you with a curiosity you haven’t quite seen from him before. “You mean that,” he says with that same curiosity in his voice, and you don’t know how he can tell, but he’s right. You had meant what you said - ready to start this new chapter of your life despite the reservations you had about Joel’s methods at times, you were ready to try. With Joel seeming unwilling to let you go anyways, you figure your best chance is to learn from him, maybe even enjoy the time you spend together, the pleasure he gives you. You like it when he sees you as good, his good girl, your skin tingling at just the thought of it. 

“I do,” you reply a little coyly, flashing him a tight lipped smile. You’re suddenly very aware of your body, the nakedness of it now as the water gently laps at you, your nipples hardening slightly as Joel’s eyes slip down towards them with a hunger in his gaze.

“Is my blossom comin’ onto me?” Joel teases, craning his neck forwards to kiss you. You giggle into his lips, kissing him back.

“N-no. I’m a good girl, remember?” You feel your heart beating wildly, testing even your own limits with how sensual you can be without losing confidence. You fight the urge to laugh, wanting, craving, to be something sexy for once in your life. More than a number, a shapeless thing to be conquered into virtuousness.

Joel bites his lip. “Where’d you learn to become a little fuckin’ tease like that?” he responds incredulously, inching his hand over the side of the tub and into the water. You clock it immediately, your thighs tightening in anticipation at the coming pleasure. Your body screams for it now after days apart, your mind equally eager to learn more from him. For once in your life, a lesson that actually intrigues you, an education that may feel worth experiencing, may make you feel valued, right. 

If being removed from it all for just a few short weeks was enough to change your way of thinking like this, to stop the daily prayers and the virtuous desperation from pouring out of you, was it ever really you?

The minute Joel’s fingers part your soft, velvet folds, completely unaware of the battle inside of your warring head, the chaos fades away, disappearing completely. 

Just like you seem to be. 

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | masterlist

status: ongoing one shot collection pairing: husband!joel x f!reader summary: chronicles the daily life, past and present, of husband!joel and his pretty little wife. warnings: 18+ MDNI, sub/dom relationship, large age gap (20+ years), free use kink, each chapter is smut heavy with sprinklings of domestic fluff, praise kink, heavy on the pet names for reader, chapters are individually tagged with warnings! 🌹 main masterlist | ao3 | kofi | fic tag 🌹

✦ = smut ✩ = fluff

main chapters: ♡ better now ✦ 3.9k — a snippet in the seemingly perfect daily life of husband!joel and his lovely housewife. ♡ morning glory ✦✩ 4.3k — saturday mornings are for his wife, joel claims, so he spends this one making his wife come as many times as he damn well pleases. ♡ generous ✦ 10.5k — tommy stops by to see you and joel in the evening, and the night takes a turn that you never could have expected. joel x f!reader x tommy for this chapter. ♡ sit tight ✦ 6.5k — you're hosting a dinner party in the miller household, and as usual, joel can't help but turn it into a chance to tease his pretty little wife. ♡ do you have an appointment? ✦✩ 11.2k — pretty wife visits joel at work when he forgets his lunch, and he wants to show everyone there just how good you are to him. and when you're good, you get a reward. ♡ meet cute, part one , part two ✦✩ 8.3k, 9.5k — a flashback to the night joel and pretty wife meet, and the beginnings of their relationship. ♡ sorry, baby ✦✩ 4k — joel is stressed and busy with a big project at work lately. his pretty little wife makes it all better. ♡ crazy 4 u ✦✩ 9k — joel has historically made sure that valentine's day is special for his pretty little wife, but this year he's gone above and beyond.

ficlets: ♡ butt dial ✩ 2.3k — you're home alone while joel is out with his brother. he butt dials you, and you hear some very interesting things.

[atticrissfinch-deactivated20240]

◁ Meet Me in the Back Masterlist ▷

{Moodboard by the head "sleazy gas station joel" slut herself @chloeangelic}

Status: Ongoing (sporadic) Pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel x fem!reader Series Summary: When you stumble into your local gas station one night and the sleazy clerk refuses to sell you alcohol, you have to get creative. What should have just been a one time bribe winds up being more than you bargained for. Rating: Explicit 18+ for all chapters [Minors Do Not Interact] Series Warnings/Tags: Age gap, daddy!kink, size!kink, breeding!kink, mentions of cigarettes/weed/alcohol, minor degradation!kink, VERY light dubcon for first part, really cringey dirty talk courtesy of joel but it's hot. Please see individual chapters for more indepth warnings/tags. a/n: this series has such a special place in my heart, and i'm so humbled and grateful for all of the love (and reluctant attraction) y'all have expressed for my little slimeball Joel I've crafted. if you're new, i hope you enjoy and please feel free to hop into my inbox with thoughts/headcanons/requests and i'll see what i can do :) 💘

Main Series:

Part 1: Meet Me in the Back  summary: When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative word count: 3.8K

Part 2: The Night Is Dark Enough We’re Only Seeing Stars summary: You can’t resist another visit to Joel in all his pervy glory. word count: 4.7K

Part 3: Hard to Break the Habit summary: When you need some air in your tires, Joel does some filling  word count: ~5k

Part 4: (His) Home for the Holidays: A Meet Me in the Back Christmas Special summary: joel texts you while he’s horny during the holidays, and you decide to visit him at his house after work. word count: ~5.2k

Part 5: I've Got My Red Dress on Tonight summary: when your Valentine’s Day date doesn’t show, you decide there’s one person who would be happy to see you. word count: ~7.8k Part 5.5: The Morning After summary: A little intermediary part. The morning after Valentine's Day. word count: ~3.3k

Headcanons/Drabbles:

Underneath Kitchen Lights: A Ficlet summary: You ride Joel’s thigh. That’s about it. Some gross fluff. word count: ~1.6k

***

-> Thanksgiving/Black Friday Headcanon (~290 words)

-> A Day in the Life Headcanon (~500 words)

-> First Text Exchange Headcanon (~200 Words)

-> Schtupping the Soccer Mom Headcanon

-> Our Man’s Kinks

-> Prison Lore

-> [NOT CANON] Reader comes over to Mama Miller’s for Christmas

-> Doreen’s Visit (Post-Christmas)

Extras

-> Spotify Playlist

-> Gas Station Floorplan

-> FANART 1 (Santa!joel) and FANART 2 (everyday Joel) by auteurdelabre!!!

-> Steal His Look!!! by the effervescent chloeangelic once again

-> The MMITB Joel Special

-> Vibey moodboard by Aly iamasaddie!!!

[604to647]

Safest with You - Series Masterlist

Posting break until April’24

Modern AU with Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din Djarin, retired mob enforcer, falls in love, but worries his past could put his future (you) in danger.

A/N: First time writer, please be gentle 🥹 This is a modern AU where Din is a former enforcer for the Fett family, and the world building and relationship development between Din and Reader takes place over many chapters. Some Star Wars names thrown in for fun, but there aren't meant to be any serious parallels to canon. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy my brain rot for everyone’s favourite tin man 🥰

Series warnings: Chapters with smut denoted with 🚑, chapters with angst denoted with ❤️‍🩹, fluff throughout. Individual instalment warnings are included in each post.

Ch. 1 (The Coffeeshop)

Ch. 2 (The Bookstore)

Ch. 3 (The Drycleaner)

Ch. 4 (The First Date)

Ch. 5 (The Courtship)

Ch. 6 (The Courtship, Din's POV) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 7 (The Third Date) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 8 (The Cab) ❤️‍🩹

Ch. 9 (The Dam Breaks) 🚑

Ch. 10 (The Afterglow) 🚑

Ch. 11 (The Poker Game) (a summary)

Ch. 11 Addendum (After The Poker Game) 🚑

Ch. 12 (The Workout) 🚑

Ch. 13 (The Birthday)

Ch. 14 (The Subway) 🚑 new!

Ch. 15 (The BBQ)

Ch. 16 (The Match-up)

Ch. 17 (The Preparations)

Ch. 18 (The Threat)

Ch. 19 (The Betrayal)

Ch. 20 (The Way to Get Over Someone)

more to come

One-shots and Drabbles (same AU)

All the one shots and drabbles can be slotted in the above timeline; as the chapters get written, I’ll note where they fit in. For now, consider the below to all be set when Din and Reader are in an established relationship (hence the smut 😂).

Carnival Fright Night 🚑 (set between Ch. 12 & 14)

Lingerie 🚑 (set anytime after Ch. 10)

The Wedding, Part 2 🚑 (insert btwn Ch. 17 & 18) (Moodboard by @hellishjoel - thank you!)

2 More Days (A Textfic) 🚑 - Part 1, Part 2 (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Holiday Remix (A Textfic) (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Let Me Carry It For You (SBowl 🏈 Drabble) (set right after Ch. 11)

The Mando Roll (Valentine’s Day Special) (set anytime after Ch. 10)

Hat Trick (set anytime after Ch. 12)

Thots

Alfredo’s the best dog

Favourite nook

Walking the dog

POV: On a date with Din

Naming of Mando’s Gym inspo

Working at Mando’s

Paz Vizsla face cast

Excellent boxing advice

Series vibes and this amazing graphic by @gasolinerainbowpuddles (thank you!)

[pedritomosquito]

Such a Pretty Thing

MINORS DNI

Pairing: Joel/Tess/Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: Joel and Tess take very good care of you

Tags: SMUT, multiple orgasms, praise kink, dom/sub vibes, Daddy kink, a hint of humiliation ig?, Oral (f receiving), PIV, enthusiastic consent, squirting, no y/n, aftercare, pretty wholesome as far as threesomes go!

A/N: I have no idea why there are not more threesome fics with Joel and Tess because CHRIST have you seen these two??? I seek to remedy this tragedy. I am what they call a "unicorn" (I'm a single person who sleeps with couples) so I'm very well-versed in threesomes 😋 Have a good read!

“Such a pretty thing, isn’t she, Joel?” Tess says as she tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. She’s seated next to you on the sofa. She is facing you, her elbow propped up on the back of the couch with her cheek resting against her hand.

Joel sits in an armchair across from you both, leaned back with his legs spread and a glass of whiskey gripped in hand. His eyes were glued to you and Tess, the weight of his gaze making your cheeks heat up.

“Sure is,” He replies evenly, taking a sip. “Kiss her.”

Tess leans forward and you easily fall into her gravity, lips finding each other. The heat of her mouth reminds you of a roaring fire and she moves closer, her hand on your jaw as she straddles your lap. Her pinky brushes circles on the delicate skin of your neck.

You secure one hand to her hip and the other traces up her side. Her fingertips trail between your bodies as she begins unbuttoning your shirt. She pushes the cup of your bra aside and her cool hand squeezes your breast, her thumb brushing over your nipple.

Your exhale comes out heavy and Tess takes the breaking of your lips to kiss down your jaw. You tilt your head back to allow her access to your neck.

You look at Joel and find his darkened eyes still staring at you over the rim of his drink as he strokes himself over his jeans. The sight forces the air from your chest in a sigh and a slight smirk appears on his face.

He loves that you love being watched.

Your eyes fall shut when Tess sucks over your pulse point. She grinds down in your lap and the coarse friction between your jeans is only enough to make you chase more. Both of your hands are on her hips now to pull her down onto you, rolling your hips up to meet hers. 

Her mouth moves to the other side of your throat and she continues to grind on you. You can feel yourself dripping and wonder if there is already a wet spot soaked through your jeans. 

You can’t keep your hips still anymore, constantly seeking out the weight of Tess against the stiff seam of your pants. Whimpers start escaping you. 

“Aw, so needy,” Tess teased, “Bet you could cum like this, right in your jeans, huh?”

If she keeps talking like that, you’re sure you could. All you can respond is a pathetic whine. 

You hear a glass being set down and then Joel’s arms wrap around Tess from behind. He pulls her off of you and to her feet, giving her a little shove towards the hallway. He takes your hand and does the same to you, making you follow Tess. 

As you enter the bedroom, his hand snakes around your hip, pulling your back flush against him. You can feel his hard-on pressed to the small of your back. His voice is inches from your ear, quiet but clearer than you’ve ever heard it.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed.”

The firmness of his body disappears as he makes his way over to Tess. You start stripping your clothes and she gives Joel a fond smile, beginning to undress him. You completely forget what you’re supposed to be doing. You’re too busy watching their perfectly practiced rhythm in how they pull off each other’s clothes, when their lips part, and where their hands wander in between.

You watch Joel’s hand slip between Tess’s legs once her underwear is out of the way.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” Joel breathes.

“Blame her,” Tess replies.

Two pairs of eyes land on you as you stand like a deer in the headlights staring back, pants still around your ankles. 

“You doing alright there, sweetheart?” Tess nearly laughs, a condescending chime to her voice that makes your stomach warm. 

Joel and Tess find your relative inexperience and youth to be very endearing. 

And you find their patronizing comments to be absolutely intoxicating.

“Distracting me,” You muttered, busying yourself with kicking your pants off and climbing onto the bed. You sit on your knees in the center of the mattress and wait expectantly.

Joel approaches you, pressing a palm against your chest and easily pushing you onto your back. He follows you down, finding your lips as he lies alongside you. His kisses were nothing like Tess. Hers were melted and smooth curved, poured into you, while his were all power, firm and precise. She took control by overwhelming you, while he took control by force. 

You feel his rough fingertips trace a path over your stomach and down to your pussy. Your breath catches and your hips seek out more of his touch as he glides over your clit. Tess lays on your other side.

“She’s even more soaked than you are,” He tells her. 

“Can’t wait to taste her,” Tess replies, her hand coming to rest between your thighs, “Want to put that pretty little mouth to work, too.”

Joel brought his wet fingers to your lips. “Suck.”

You take them in your mouth, running your tongue through the division of his fingers to taste yourself.

Joel withdraws, replacing his lips on yours, licking his way into your mouth. You know by his small groan he can taste you. He settles his hand over the base of your throat. Just the weight of it there makes you squirm. You bring your hand to his cheek, his scruff bristling against your palm.

Tess’s hand skims over your clit and you jump slightly, gripping onto her arm.

“Tell me what you want,” Tess says.

Joel releases you long enough to reply.

“Please, your fingers,” You rush.

“Such a good girl, asking so nice,” Tess praises as she begins to knead wide circles against your clit.

The noise you make is quieted by Joel’s lips returning to yours. His hand moves further up your throat as Tess’s circles are drawn tighter and firmer. Your nails dig into her arm. You can’t breathe fast enough to keep up with Joel’s kiss so you break from him, panting against his cheek as your eyes drift shut.

Tess dips a finger into you.

“Yes,” You gasp.

“Yeah? You want my fingers?” She asks.

“Y-Yes!” You repeat.

“Have to stretch this pretty pussy out, get you ready to take Joel’s cock,” She muses.

You open your eyes and find Joel just watching you from inches away. You look at him and he drinks in every detail of your face as Tess slides two fingers into you. 

“Fuck,” you moan.

Tess works her fingers inside you and Joel begins kissing down your neck, moving himself down your body. His mouth sucks bruises across your collarbone and he slides his hand down to your breast. He licks your nipple into his mouth as Tess curls her fingers.

You can’t even make sound, the air in your lungs frozen and tension seizing your body.

“She likes that,” Tess observed with a knowing smile, “Tightened up on me real nice.”

Joel repeats the motion, adding a circle with his tongue. You weave your fingers through his silver hair.

“Oh god,” You choke.

Tess picks up the pace of her strokes and you can feel pressure start to grow in your hips. 

“Look how close you are already,” Tess chuckles, “Such a perfect little slut.”

“Tess!” You cry out, your hand scrabbling for something to grab. You end up gripping the sheets above your head. 

“Wanna taste you while you cum,” Tess says as she repositions herself to be between your legs, her fingers never leaving you.

She continues to stroke inside you when her mouth finds your clit. 

“Mommy!” The whimper escapes you. 

You can hear a small laugh from Tess against you and Joel lets go of your nipple, his smirking face appearing above you. 

“So that’s who we are, huh?” Joel teases. His voice gets impossibly lower, his lips brushing against your ear. “Say my name,” he demands in a whisper.

You can’t get the words out, paralyzed by the swirling storm of Tess’s fingers and humiliation. 

“Say. It.” His fingers lace into your hair and twist hard. 

“Daddy!”

“Good girl,” he coos. “You gonna cum for us? Go ahead. Cum all over Mommy’s fingers.”

The way he mocks you makes the simmering beneath your skin burn into a full blaze. Tess takes your clit into her mouth and sucks.

“Fuck I’m cumming!” 

“There you go, let her taste you,” Joel soothed quietly as you trembled through the high. You grabbed at him helplessly. “That’s it,” He continued softly, “Such a good girl for us. There you go.”

A haze settles over you and you happily lie in it. When your mind finally pulls you away, Tess and Joel kissing above you.

“Fucking delicious,” Joel murmurs.

“Oh my god,” You start to catch your breath. You paw at Tess. “Want you, want to…” You want to thank her, in any way she wants, but the words won’t come out. Instead you reach out and run your hand between her legs. She’s so slick and soft. “Jesus,” you sigh. 

“Making you cum got me all wet,” She looked down at you, grasping your wrist to keep your hand in place. You stroke her slowly. “Now Joel’s gonna fuck you while you clean me up like a good girl, okay?”

You nod, eyes blown wide.

Joel suddenly slides a finger into you and you jolt, letting out a strangled cry.

“Makin’ sure you’re good and stretched for me, darlin’,” He says, inserting a second finger. 

His fingers are thicker than Tess’s and reach deeper. The sensitive spot inside you is easy to find when you’re still in your afterglow. He wastes no time massaging the pads of his fingers over it. 

“Fuck, please,” You beg aimlessly. 

“Needy girl,” He says lowly. His Texas drawl thickens. “Christ, can’t wait to have your tight pussy wrapped around me.” He moves towards the end of the bed and puts your thighs in his lap. He presses his fingers harder against you and it makes another desperate noise fall from your mouth.

You glide a finger into Tess and she hums, reaching out her hand to play with your nipple. 

“Please, want you to sit on my face while he fucks me hard,” You sigh.

“Didn’t know you had it in you to talk like that, sweetheart! Don’t worry,” She promises wickedly, “I will.”

Joel withdraws his hand from you and strokes your sides.

“You ready for me?” He asks.

“Fuck, please, yes,” You nodded fiercely.

He places a palm flat on your stomach as he guides himself into you. You suck in a breath as he groans. The way he fills you feels like the tension of a balloon about to burst, the weighty pressure expanding inside you. Your hands fly up, bracing against his chest and all you can do is emit a small squeak as he sinks further. He pauses there for a moment.

“Doin’ alright, darlin’?” He asks softly.

You just nod, eyes pressed shut.

Tess’s hand brushes down your cheek.

“Breathe,” She reminds you.

You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath. You exhale and let your body relax.

“There you go,” She says.

You put a hand down on Joel’s hip, silently asking him to move. He obliges, slowly pulling back and rolling forward. He gives a couple more thrusts and starts skimming over a spot that makes you gasp.

“Fuck,” He breathes, “You’re taking me so good.”

All at once, the pleasure rises into focus, clear and torrid.

“H-Holy shit,” You stutter, looking down and watching him disappear in you, “Holy shit, that’s–yes.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Tess says, “Joel filling up your pretty little cunt?” 

“Yes!” You nod, reaching for her, tugging weakly on her thighs. “Please, wanna make you cum on my face.”

“You even beg pretty,” She remarked, swinging her leg over to straddle you, facing Joel.

Her wet pussy was practically dripping above you. You wrap your arms around each of her thighs and pull her down to your face. 

You cover as much of her as you can with your mouth and run your tongue from top to bottom. The sound she makes is downright filthy. 

“Fuck I knew your mouth was gonna be perfect,” She said, giving your nipple a pinch and making you squeak again. 

Joel gives a slow, hard thrust. You can hear their lips connecting above you, kissing each other. You wish someone could take a picture. You flick Tess’s clit with your tongue and their kiss breaks with a gasp.

You start working your mouth, alternating between licking her with the flat of your tongue and fucking it into her. She grinds harder on you.

“Oh fuck, yes,” Tess panted, “Just like that.”

Joel was seemingly captivated by burying himself in you as far as he could, his pace easy but deep. The base of his stomach presses on your clit as his cock strokes places in you that you didn’t even know existed. 

You take Tess’s clit into your mouth and flick your tongue over it as you suck.

“Right there! Don’t stop!” Tess commands.

You keep up despite becoming progressively more distracted. The noises she makes intensifies how sensitive you are to Joel. The muscles in your hips twitch as you try to keep them still. 

You focus in on finishing Tess off, dying to know what she sounds like when she falls apart and gunning for her praise. 

“You gonna cum?” Joel nearly taunts her, “You gonna cum all over her face while I fuck her good?”

You and Tess both moan in response.

She cums with her breath held for a moment before she cries out swears and your name. She keeps riding your mouth until she’s satisfied. She pulls away and without her pussy pressed against your mouth, the noises you’re making begin to escape. Joel was fucking you so slowly you could cry.

“What do you think?” Joel asked Tess, “Does our girl deserve a reward?”

“Definitely,” Tess nods, crawling back to be at your side, mouth connecting with your neck.

“Please,” You respond, rolling your head to give Tess a broader canvas and clutching Joel’s waist.

“You loved Tess sitting on your face, didn’t you?” Joel questioned, picking up his speed, “Had you gripping me so hard.”

“Dreamt about it,” You confessed in between heavy breaths.

“Oh really?” He prodded, “You touch yourself when you wake up?”

“Uhuh,” You nod. 

“What else?” Tess asked.

You couldn’t answer–you were getting too close to speak. Joel suddenly dropped his pace.

“What else?” He repeated the demand.

“D-Dreamed you finger fucked me t-till I soaked the bed!” You stutter, desperate for him to speed back up.

“Christ, you are just a perfect slut,” He panted, setting an even faster rhythm, “Waking up already soaked for us.”

Tess rakes her hands across your chest, thumbs circling around your nipples.

“Fuck!” The glow inside you was heating up, sharp flashes of electricity buzzing down your thighs. You can’t keep your hips still, pushing back to get every bit of him you can. “Please, please!”

“Use your words,” Joel warned.

“Fuck, I–touch me!” You blindly grab at Tess. One of her hands reaches down, rolling over your clit and you realize she’s touching herself with the other.

“Fuck,” You moan, seeing her fingers working between her legs. The noises coming from her and Joel send a hot flush of need over you.

“Close again, huh?” He strained, pounding into you harder, “I know you have one more for us.”

“Yes! Yes!”

“That’s a good girl,” He drawled, “Come on, darlin’, I got you. Want both of you to cum.”

“Joel!” You cry. 

“That’s not what you were calling me earlier, was it?” He said through gritted teeth.

“Daddy!”

You feel the ripple starting, multiplying and spreading, pressure flowing through you. You pull back just enough that Joel slips out of you as you start making a mess of his lap and the sheets.

“Good girl, there it is. Cum on my dick, that’s a good girl,” He grinds out the words, pumping his cock in his fist. “Fuck, that’s it, fuck,” A strangled noise caught in his throat as wet stripes hit your stomach and Tess lurches forward with a moan.

The ripples begin to space themselves out, becoming soft pulses. When your mind starts to clear, you feel a warm cloth gently wiping across your stomach. You hear Tess’s voice next to you and, to your horror, your own soft whines too. 

“Did so good for us,” She says softly, a light touch stroking down your arm, “Such a good girl.”

You take a breath to quiet yourself. You can’t quite keep still, your legs a bit restless. 

The bed sinks next to you and you roll your head, finding Joel.

“There you are, darlin’,” He chuckled, smoothing back some of the hair sticking to your damp forehead.

“Holy fuck,” You murmur.

Both of them laugh.

“Holy fuck,” Tess nods with a smile.

Joel presses a kiss to your temple.

“Such a pretty thing.”

[galacticgraffiti]

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Veman'alor ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 5.7k CW: Voice kink, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, age difference (older Boba), dad bod appreciation

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🙤 · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · 🙦

Chapter 1 - Arrivals, beginnings

You were there, the day he arrived.

You’d had some business with Fortuna and you had put it off way too long. You hated the palace, hated the memories you had of that place, hated the way Bib Fortuna stared at you even after you tried your best to cover yourself up. You usually wore a mask, less to protect your identity – you were not a bounty hunter – and more because you felt like you could not hide the disgust on your face when you looked at the fat Twi’lek sitting on Jabba's throne. Because that's what it still was - Jabba's throne.

So you were there, the day Boba Fett arrived at the palace. It was a mess, it had been even before Fortuna’s murder – he was not a good ruler. You had wanted to leave when it all happened, not sure if this man, this bounty hunter, this… Mandalorian? was actually who you thought he was, though by the way everyone around you had reacted, you were pretty sure of it. But leaving would have felt like treason, and even if you hated the palace, it was good business. You had pondered your options and decided not to run for the dunes too soon.

And you were intrigued. Intrigued by the stories you had heard, by Fett's sudden appearance, even by the coldness with which he had killed Fortuna. Fett had not even spared a second thought at the pleas for mercy resounding in the room. And he had sat down on the throne like it had been made for him. He looked good on it. Like he belonged. Or rather… like it belonged to him.

Fett had soon dismissed the entire entourage that had gathered in the room where Bib Fortuna’s body lay with a wave of his hand, some scrambling out, some keeping their pace more measured, trying to hide their fear. But you could feel it crackle in the air, the awe he inspired, and the dread. The admiration and the envy. You had tried to slip out as quietly and inconspicuously as you could manage after Fett had told everyone to come back in three days time to negotiate for new deals.

For those three days, you had done nothing but think about the situation. About him. How was he alive? How had he returned and won, so quickly, so easily? Why was no one challenging him – yet? And, most important of all: Did you want to go back for negotiations?

He had been very smart to dismiss everyone there. If they’d had the courage to bond together to try and overthrow him before he was ever truly seen as the ruler, there would not have been much he and his apparent hired hand could have done. But as he had done it, he’d overwhelmed everyone with his sudden presence, so much so that they had taken the chance to flee as soon as it was offered. And now he could establish himself, letting small groups of people into the palace, never too many until he had found more employees he trusted to defend him and his rule.

You thought about Boba Fett a great deal. You had never seen his face, never spoken to him, never knew more than the tales you had heard of his ingenuity, his power, his determination and yes, his cruelty. Even now you could hardly say you had met the man. Seen him, yes, but not met. Yet his grip on you was already undeniable.

The rumour mill was churning out new theories by the second; barely half a rotation after his return, basically the whole planet knew that Boba Fett was sitting on Jabba’s throne. Because that’s what it still was to everyone, even after half a decade under Bib Fortuna’s rather pathetic rule. Still Jabba’s throne, with all the power and connections that came with it, even if most of them had gone unused in the past years. Except for the slave trade. Fortuna had used those connections incessantly, and… you did not truly dare to hope a man like Boba Fett would banish slavery from his planet, but nonetheless, until you found out more, you were giving him the benefit of the doubt that he would at least try to clean things up around here. Even if it was only for his own good, and the good of his new criminal empire.

You had heard in passing that the woman accompanying him was Fennec Shand, a bounty hunter of exceptional skill. Other than that, no rumours had any substantial evidence, so you decided you would wait and see for yourself what Fett would be like before letting your imagination run too wild.

You deliberately did not to go back on the third day as Fett had asked. It took all your determination, all willpower you could muster, because aside from the business aspects of it all, you were also curious. More curious than you could remember ever being in your entire life. The memory of the sheer aura of power that had surrounded Boba Fett never left your thoughts, and you caught yourself thinking of him as your hand slid between your thighs that first night. And then the next. And the one after that. You scolded yourself afterwards, taken aback by your own mind. You had never even exchanged a word with him, he had not looked at you and you yourself had left that throne room as quickly as you could after your dismissal, not daring to look at him for too long.

You did not go back on the third day, because that was when you assumed almost everyone else would go. Your assumptions were confirmed when you strolled through Mos Espa that afternoon. A long track of merchants, tradesfolk, general criminals and scum had gathered to make the trek through the dunes to Jabba’s palace. Well... Boba’s palace. For some reason, calling it that seemed easier than thinking of it as „Bib Fortuna’s palace“ ever had.

You figured that on the fourth day, there would still be enough people coming to see Fett that you would not stand out too much, and it hopefully would not be too late to offer your services. You were a mechanic for the podraces, as well as helping out in shops here and there. You did not like being employed much, the lack of power to decide over your own schedule had always bothered you, but you did not have the credits to open your own shop either. When there had been an opening for working the pit stops for the races, you had jumped at it, because it paid surprisingly well. Aside from the financial aspect, you had set dates when races took place, surrounded by enough free time to do some independent work of your own, make some extra money on the side to save up.

Your position in bargaining with the new ruler of Tatooine would depend on whether he even planned to continue hosting races - Fortuna had not been particularly partial to them but he had not stopped them either. You could not see why Fett should, it would be a bad move on his part to remove the one thing inhabitants and tourists alike enjoyed about this dry, joyless planet. But you would never know unless you asked. So, on the morning of the fourth day after Boba Fett’s takeover, you packed your things, your tools, some food and water, and took out your speeder bike. You were glad you had tinkered on your own, searching for scraps in the pits and through the odd jobs, bought some of the rarer parts. It had paid off tenfold to have your own bike, and today it did once more: None of the rental shops in town seemed to have any left and you sure as hell did not want to make that trek on foot.

*****

Loads of people are going in the same direction as you, but the crowd does not seem quite as overwhelming as yesterday. You have decided against wearing the all-covering outfit you would have usually worn. You have also decided not to look too closely at the reason as to why. You are still wearing your mask though, as well as some goggles because getting sand in your face at the speed your bike goes? Not fun.

The last couple klicks of the pathway to the palace are littered with people, vehicles, and even vendors. You scoff as you slow down so as to not run anybody over, and weave your way through the groups of people until you are about as close to the palace doors as you can get. You park your bike, careful to lock it up as safely as possible. You do not trust anyone who has any business here. You may be part of this group, but then again, they shouldn’t exactly trust you either.

When you arrive at the heavy gates, your boots sinking deep into the sand, some guards are waiting around. They are not Gamorrean but seem to be of many different species. You figure they are probably bounty hunters, maybe some that Fett knows from years ago? From before he died. You shake your head to get rid of that stupid thought. He obviously did not die, even if nobody knows how he managed that.

You stand in line for a few minutes, until a human man asks for your name, occupation and previous connection to Fortuna. When you tell him you work as a mechanic, his eyes light up, and instead of sending you back to wait like he did the others before you, he calls for the gate to be opened.

Surprised, you raise your eyebrows at him, but he just shrugs and tells you to go in.

You always forget how much cooler the air is inside the palace. You shiver a bit as you make your way to the throne room, since no one told you to go anywhere else. No one lingers on the sides of the shady corridors - not a surprise, but still an odd and unfamiliar sight. Usually, there were always shady deals being made in every corner, lewd glances following you from every turn. But the broad hallways seem entirely deserted. The stairway down to the throne room is dimly lit, and your footsteps sound strangely loud and out of place in the silence that surrounds you. You pause for a second before you step into the throne room, smoothing over your hair, straightening your blouse and patting your cheeks a bit. Your heart is racing and you have no idea what to expect. You take a deep breath, then step forward and into the room.

Boba Fett sits on the throne, legs spread wide, reclined back, apparently completely relaxed, his left arm on the armrest while the other lays on his thigh plate. Fennec Shand stands in the shadows behind him, barely visible, her blaster rifle held loosely by her side. You don’t doubt for a second that she would shoot you should you make one wrong or too sudden move.

Fett is wearing his helmet, but you think you can still feel his eyes on you as you make your way across the room to stand before him. He does not say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge that you have entered; unlike Shand, whose intense gaze burns into you. You stop before the throne, elevated on its pedestal, the new ruler of the planet towering over you. The urge to sink to your knees before him hits you out of nowhere, and you have to fight to not bow your head. His presence is intense, intoxicating, and it makes you shake even though he has not even moved. The energy this man exudes is indescribable. You fight to keep looking at him, staring into his dark visor and refusing to speak first.

You don’t know where the courage not to adress him comes from when you are so obviously in the position of the applicant, but somehow, breaking the silence would feel wrong. Like giving in before the fight had even started. What fight, you could not say.

A minute passes, and the impulse to look away, to speak to him, grows stronger by the second, but if there is anything you are proud of, it’s your resolve and your ability to gauge a room. You feel like Fett is waiting for you to... submit.

Finally, he sits up a little, resting his chin on his hand, the frame of the helmet moving downwards just slightly, and now you are absoutely sure he is looking at you. Your goggles are sitting atop your head, and you remove your veil, never looking away from the dark visor that is fixed upon you.

Boba Fett stares at you and you feel like you’re on fire.

He says your name.

His deep, raspy voice surprises you, far too rich even through the vocoder of his helmet. You don’t know what you expected, but it is not this. It fits him perfectly, as voices rarely do. You nod, but you don’t say anything else. He let you pass before anyone else, he must have a reason. You will wait for him to give it.

"So, you’re a mechanic that worked for Fortuna?“ he drawls, and you want him to say something else, anything else, so you can memorise his voice. Your traitorous body surprises you, your core tightening and your breath going just a little faster. There is just something about him…

"Yes-“ You hesitate. By what title should you call him? Your brain seems to be lagging behind, and so you decide that short answers are probably best for now. Stick with what you know.

"And did you enjoy your work?“ Fett sounds amused when he poses the question, and you can’t tell if it is because he somehow knows the turmoil that is going on in your mind, or because he thinks he knows how you will answer.

"I did enjoy the work,“ you say, and after a slight pause you add, "but not Fortuna. I’m not saying this to ingratiate myself with you. I like being a mechanic, I like the work and I am good at it. Fortuna was just… someone. Someone who had regular business. I won’t miss him, if that’s what you’re really asking.“

Fett is quiet for a while.

"Good,“ he says then. "Some of the others who were here before you did not seem to think the same of this… situation. But when asked for a good worker, more than one gave me your name. You must have done something right, girl. Being in good standing with more than one colleague is hard around here.“

You supress a smile, inclining your head and waiting for him to go on. His helmet tilts as the silence stretches on. You will yourself to be patient.

"I have an offer,“ Fett says finally. "But it will require commitment and flexibility. If you prove yourself worthy, it will pay off, for you and me both. If you try to betray me… nothing will be able to save you.“

The sudden shift in tone makes your head spin. Barely two whole sentences, and a job offer and death threat packed into one? Maker have mercy.

"I came here to ask if you will continue the pod races,“ you venture when he doesn’t go on. "I liked my job, it paid good money and it left me enough free time to earn something extra on the side-“

"You won’t need that if you accept my offer,“ he interrupts you. "If you’re loyal, and work as hard and well as I’ve been led to believe, you will be able to live quite comfortably.“

"What does this… offer entail?“ you ask, because he hasn’t given you any of the important details yet. You wonder whether he was waiting for you to enquire more. Maybe he was hoping you would jump at the chance to work for the great Boba Fett, no matter what the job is. But you want to know before you agree to anything. Even if the financial compensation is as astounding as he makes it out to be.

"You will move into the palace,“ Fett says, and before you can even open your mouth to protest, he goes on. "You will not be working the pit stops anymore. You will work for me, and me alone. You’ll care for my ships and if you do well here, I will take you on some off-world missions with me in the future.“

Going off-world? This is starting to sound too good to be true. And you have to ask.

"Why me?“

"Why not you? Do you have any other engagements?“ he counters. "Any better offers?“

"I don’t,“ you answer, maybe a bit too quickly.

"I’m willing to give you a chance, solely because I need someone with your skill set. I haven’t found anyone else who has the… particular combination of characteristics I am looking for. And I won’t waste my time searching for someone else if you accept the initial offer and prove yourself to me.“

Your mouth is dry. This will turn your life upside down, but you don’t think you mind. You have been getting by fine so far, but that’s just it. Fine is not good. This could be a golden opportunity, and you see no reason why you should refuse him. If it does not work out, you can still go back to your old jobs, quite possibly even having saved enough money to move on to another planet.

"Alright,“ you hear yourself say while your mind is still racing.

Fett murmurs something under his breath, caught between his helmet and his vocoder. You can not make it out exactly, but it sounds like… good girl? You swallow hard and focus on what Fett is telling you: about your payment – which is more than generous – about tasks he already knows are coming up and so on, your head spinning with the details and possibilities he lays down before you.

"You will move in as soon as possible. To travel between the city and here every day would be unnecessarily time-consuming. And I don’t want you getting assaulted by Tuskens if I ever need you here at inconvenient times.“

"I will pack my things and can be back here tomorrow,“ you answer, and you swear you can hear him chuckle lightly. Fett nods sharply, then leans forward a bit. Involuntarily, you take a step forward, closer to him because his body language commands it.

"We will prepare your contract.“

He does not say goodbye, doesn’t dismiss you, just leans back in his chair, his helmet turning away from you and you can feel that you are no longer needed.

"Thank you,“ you say, then turn away and leave the throne room. Only when you step outside the palace do you feel like you can breathe freely again. Boba Fett is... he is overwhelming, all-encompassing. This job will either be the best decision you have ever made, or you will die trying to prove yourself to him.

*****

The next morning, you send a message to Fennec who sent you a short holo last night, telling you to let her know when you will be arriving. Flinging your saddlebags over the back of your bike you head off, racing towards the rising sun. Most of what you are taking with you are spare parts you think might be useful, but you also have your work clothes and some memorablia that you can not leave behind or throw out. When Fett said you would be living in the palace he did not exactly specify your living situation and you forgot to ask, too overloaded with the intensity of his presence. You figure you will be fine, though. It can not be much worse than the old barracks where you have been staying so far – actually, you are almost daring to hope it might be better.

When you arrive at the gate, Fennec Shand is waiting for you, leaned back against the wall and ignoring the people still waiting for an audience with the new ruler of Tatooine.

"Hey there, tinker girl,“ she greets you, the cool tone of her voice a contrast to the sweet nickname she just called you.

You smile a little and greet her back with a nod, deciding you do not mind her teasing.

"Let’s put you into the security system, shall we? Can’t play babysitter every time you leave the palace.“

She orders the electronic eye that has been guarding the palace since the dawn of times to take your retina scan. When the gate opens up, Fennec drags you inside with her before the wall closes up behind you both once again. There are a couple more security mechanisms to go through that definitely were not in place when Fortuna was running the palace; all kinds of bio-scans, as well as some codes Fennec has you memorise, and a specially made keycard for your room she gives you as she leads you through the palace, to a part that you have never seen before. It’s not the servant’s quarters like you were expecting. Instead, your room seems to be located in the smaller tower next to the main building.

"You live on the third floor,“ Fennec explains as she puts your keycard to the elevator scanner. "Your key will only take you up to there. Boba lives in the upper levels, don’t even try to get up there. If you truly do prove yourself, you may gain access at some point in the future. For now, your access shall remain restricted.“

You nod along to her explanations as you try to memorise the layout of the palace as far as you know.

"Wait, wait, hold on,“ you say, your heart stumbling when you really grasp her words. "I live in the tower with… him?“

"Yes,“ Fennec answers coolly. "So do I. I’m a couple levels above you. He told me to put you up here, Stars know why. Maybe so I can keep a closer eye on you.“

She winks, but you also get that feeling she might be serious about keeping an eye on you. Well, you have nothing to hide, and so far, you actually quite like her.

You arrive with a faint ding, and your mouth hangs open for a second when the elevator doors slide open. Compared to your quarters in Mos Espa, these rooms are… pure luxury. Actually, scratch that. Not even just in comparison with the barracks. These rooms are legitimately beautiful. Tall, wide arches, soft curtains blowing in the breeze, open layout… You whistle through your teeth.

"Son of a… you’re sure these are for me?“

"So he tells me,“ Fennec sounds amused. "You’ll have this level to yourself. If anyone keys in your storey number, you’ll be notified by a bell when they get here. Nobody but Boba and myself have access to this building so far, so it shouldn’t happen too often.“

You just nod, your mouth slightly agape as you finish your round through what you can only call a reception area. The layout is fascinating, with the main room being connected to the adjacent ones by broad arcs that can be closed with sliding doors.

Fennec shakes her head as she watches you.

"I’ll let you get settled, but you’d better not take the whole day. Boba has some tasks for you already, and I wouldn’t keep him waiting.“

"Yes, of course,“ you say absent-mindedly. Your blood suddenly seems to run hotter when you think of seeing him again. Just as Fennec turns around and heads for the elevator, a thought crosses your mind, and you call out to her before she is gone.

"Hey, Fennec!“

"What is it, tinker girl?“

"What… what should I call him?“

She chuckles at that, and shrugs.

"I just call him Boba, but we’ve known each other for a long time and are connected by some... debts. You‘ll have to ask him that.“

The elevator doors close and she is gone.

You groan. Fuck. This had been exactly what you were trying to avoid. Asking him directly will be… awkward, at best. Terrifying at worst.

You take a short tour of the rooms while you ponder. On one side, you have a separate sleeping chamber and your own refresher which, to your utter delight, has an actual water shower, not a sonic one. Across from your sleeping chambers, there is a work room that is nearly empty except for a huge table made for 3D-holo projections, and some shelves that are filled with mechanical blueprints on datapads. To your astonishment, you even find some rolls of durasheet which seem to be hand-written blueprints of a Starship. You can feel yourself getting giddy at the prospect - this is what you do, this is what you love. You’ll have to give all of this a closer look later when there is nobody waiting for you. The last room is a small kitchen and dining area; the shelves are stacked with ingredients and water.

This feels unreal. More like a vacation than a new job. You lounge on your bed for a while, spread out like a starfish and trying to take it all in. Then, you pull yourself together, get up, pick out your favourite overalls and make your way down to the courtyard where you think the ships would be parked. Well, ship? Ships, plural? You are not really sure what Boba Fett needs a personal mechanic for, but so far, this job seems so fantastic that you don’t much care.

When you get to the yard, you nearly trip over your own feet, because he is there, waiting for you, leaning against his ship. You know all about his ship, the famous Firespray. Well, everything stories could tell you, anyways. The Slave I is the stuff of legends, even if the name makes you shudder uncomfortably. Fett stands up a bit straighter as you stumble towards him. Today, you don’t seem to have the nerve you scraped together yesterday. He makes your heart race and your skin tingle.

"Careful, princess,“ he says when you almost trip again, and you blush redder than a blumfruit, not just at your own clumsiness, but at his choice of pet name and the delicious sound of his voice. It has been merely one day since you have heard Fett speak for the first time, but you had already convinced yourself that he could not possibly sound like that, that you had imagined it, made his voice better than it had really been. You have not. If anything, your memory has not done him justice. Fuck me.

"I’m okay.“ You wave him off, trying to regain your composure.

"Good. Be a shame to send you back home with a broken bone on your first day, wouldn’t it.“ His voice sounds slightly amused under the helmet, but it’s hard to tell without seeing his face. Maker, you want to know what he looks like under there.

"Come on, I’ll show you ’round the ship,“ he grumbles as he makes his way up the ramp. "I saw you worked with Kuat Engineering before, but the Slave is one of a kind. I’ll watch you for a while before I leave you alone with my ship. I don’t… I don’t usually let strangers near her. Fennec convinced me I won’t have time to do everything myself if I am to run this planet properly.“

When before, he sounded almost nice, coversational even, like someone you would like to get to know, his voice is now icy-cold when he adresses you.

"If you mess up, you will be kicked out faster than you can say mercy, girl. I have no mercy, especially not when it comes to my ship. I don’t care if you mess up because you don’t know enough, don’t care enough, or don’t pay enough attention. If you damage my ship, I will not forgive you. Do you understand?“

"Yes, Sir,“ you manage to press out, not even thinking about the title your brain decided on in its panic.

"Good girl,“ Fett mumbles, and his posture relaxes ever so slightly. You shiver at his praise, a rush of arousal running down your spine. Nope. No, no. Not now. Not a good time. You try to shut your brain up. You’re glad he doesn’t seem to take offence at your silence.

"Let’s get started,“ he says, placing one hand on your waist and pushing your towards the cockpit. You think you black out for a second when he touches you. Even though there are several layers of clothing between you, nothing could have prepared you for the attraction this man holds for you. You feel oddly electric all over, letting yourself be pushed down into the seat without resistance.

The layout of this ship freaks you out a little. None of the stories you head ever talked about the inside of the ship. Its weaponry, yes, the impressive skill level it requires to fly her. The intimidating atmosphere that surrounds it, even the paintjob. But never the inside. You wonder if that is because no one who has ever stepped foot inside it besides Boba is dead.

The layout is different from the racing speeders, which you very much expected, but it is also different from any other starship you have ever worked on - which, admittedly, are not many. Still, it is weird, with its elongated belly, the portable carbon freezer, with the ladders that don't seem to make any sense and the strange feeling that everything is facing the wrong direction.

Fett sits in the seat next to you – actually, he sits on the back rest, like you are right now. If you wanted to sit down properly, you would need to lay in the seat. Which… your thoughts trail off as you imagine him pushing you down into the seat and… and you’re only snapped out of it by Fett barking your name.

"Girl! Are you paying attention or do I need to repeat myself? If this is too complicated for you, you can pack your things and leave.“

Fett's harsh words hurt, and you bite down on your cheek to stop your lip from quivering. Usually, you do not cry quite so easily, but something about him makes you want to desperately prove yourself. You want him to be proud of you.

"Sorry, Sir,“ you choke out. "This ship is just… fascinating.“

"I know,“ he drawls. "I’ve left all her blueprints in your workroom so you can get a feel for the layout and all the modifications regarding the weapons compartments. For now, there’s some easy work that I’ll watch you do, to get a feel for how efficiently you work, how... intuitive you are.“

You nod along as Fett explains the tasks, none of them sounding particularly demanding, just like he said. You try your hardest not to make your attraction too obvious, even as you hang on his every word. You want to watch his lips move, see his eyes burn into yours, but the helmet forms an unbreakable barriere. You banish your more than impure thoughts to the back of your mind as he goes on, trying to focus. You refuse to lose this job simply because you are lusting after a man you barely even know.

"You’ll work on some speeders and racers next before I let you anywhere near her more complicated parts, but these wires couldn’t wait and I thought I might as well watch you now.“ His voice is impatient, but not unkind. You pull yourself together.

"Understood,“ you answer then. "Let’s get to work.“

*******

You have been here for some weeks now, the palace proving to be a much better place to live in than you had ever expected, but you think that’s also because of the company you keep. Fennec and you have become tentative friends, sipping spotchka together in the evenings, while Boba has left a week ago, taking the Slave I with him.

None of the other personnel have joined in on the strange arrangement. None of them seem to live in the tower, and Boba does not speak more than necessary to any of them. But, as you have positively noted, they all seem to be employed, not enslaved, and you can not help but appreciate what he has done. For whatever reasons, Boba does not employ indented dancer girls anymore, and pays everyone who works for him fairly, at least as far as you can tell. You are grateful. Living in the palace in near-luxury would have been harder - impossible, actually - if an enslaved servant girl had brought you breakfast every morning. You don’t think you could have reconciled it with your conscience.

These past weeks, Boba has instructed you on the Slave I, clearly and precisely, answering all your questions about the enhancements and modifications with the patience of an angel, although you have not dared to ask any question twice. You have a feeling he values how quickly you learn and how efficiently you can apply the gathered knowledge to your work. The ship fascinates you to no end, you have memorised all the blueprints and info he has left for you, intrigued by the design and the special modifications someone – Boba? – has made to the ship.

Before he left, Boba told you to take a closer look at the instructions for the minelayer magazines, the improvement of which will be the first big task he entrusts you with without watching over you. You think you have gained his trust, as far as that is possible with a man like Boba Fett.

Every time you have done something particularly tricky or remembered a complex detail without having to be asked for it, you were rewarded with mumbled variations of „good girl“, a phrase that has seared itself into your brain in Boba's voice forever. You think of how good he sounds saying those words almost every night when you lay in your bed and try to relieve some of the tension that working next to him seems to inevitably cause in you.

Tonight, you are sharing a bottle of spotchka with Fennec and telling some of your favourite stories about Fortuna and his rather disastrous rule.

"…and then he fucking stepped on his lekku,“ you finish your sentence, snorting as Fennec quietly chuckles next to you. "Gods, I am so glad that stupid kriffing man is gone.“

Fennec’s face tightens a little, the smile vanishing as quickly as it came.

"It was necessary.“

"I know. I’m glad Boba is here. He’s doing well, from what I’ve gathered... and I am grateful to him for freeing the slaves of the palace. I knew many of them. No one deserves this fate.“

Fennec nods sharply at your words and pours another glass. She does not enquire how exactly you got to know the enslaved, and you are grateful for it.

You are a little more drunk than you planned on being when the elevator doors to your apartment slide open, leaving Fennec in there to ride up the remaining two levels to her own apartment alone. You let yourself flop down on the couch in the reception area; you don’t think you could make it to the bed, it seems... so far away. You lazily pull your clothes off your body, the Tatooine air too warm even at night, and let out a sigh.

What a life you get to lead. This was the best decision you have ever made. You have made a friend, you are being paid well too do a job you adore, your boss is insanely hot… Hold up. Once again, your mind has wandered where it should not have. He may seem nice, except maybe a little grumpy. But this is still Boba Fett, the most feared bounty hunter in the entire galaxy. He got his reputation for a reason. You know the stories, and you have gathered that at least some of them are true. Maybe even most of them.

And still. When his hand brushes your thigh as he shows you something on the ship, when you feel his gaze lingering on you through the helmet he has never taken off in front of you, when you kneel on the floor tinkering away while he towers over you, making sure you don’t damage his ship… He makes you nervous, yes. But you also feel… other things in his presence. Things you should not be thinking about. He distracts you, and he can never know that he does. Yet the temptation to think of him at night, alone in your bed, has never left you alone. You initially thought it was just your body, stupidly confusing fear with attraction, but it has been way too long to deny that Boba makes you feel giddy. Excited. He feels like something forbidden, like something you know you should not desire and you still do. You think about the strong hands he has revealed to you once when helping you with some wiring, scarred and tan, with thick fingers and surprisingly neat nails. You think about these hands a lot at night, trying to imagine it is them touching you instead of your own small, delicate ones.

Your own thoughts have you worked up even now as you lay on the soft cushions of the couch, and you slide your hand between your thighs to find you are already so much wetter than you should be. Fuck. Ugh. Well, you might as well do something about it.

You slide two fingers against your clit, circling them and trying to find the right pressure while your other hand comes up to cup your tits, pushing them together, gently rubbing one thumb over your hardened nipple until the sensation shoots straight through you. Once you find a rhythm, you let your legs fall open wider to grant yourself easier access. Your wandering thoughts return to Boba, to the way he sits on his throne, relaxed but still so poised, his legs spread wide. You want to kneel between his thighs, hear him call you his good girl while you suck him off. That thought makes your back arch. You press your fingers down a little harder, go a little faster, closing your eyes and imagining it’s his fingers dipping inside you, filling you.

Your breaths come faster, you moan out his name as you push yourself towards the edge, when suddenly, a bell chimes somewhere in the apartment. But you are too far gone to react in time, the crest of your orgasm hitting you with force as you cry out Boba’s name, just as the elevator doors slide open.

Next chapter

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Mando'a translations Veman'alor - True/Rightful ruler

As we go along, I will post all my Mando'a translations for each chapter here, just so you know if you want to know what something means, you can always scroll down here. Though let's be honest it'll mostly just be dirty talk.

Update [Apr.'22]: In fact, as the chapters progress, some quite interesting and informative conversations will be held in Mando'a. So if you ever want to check... You know where to find what I came up with.

[zialltops]

Sunshine | zialltops

Summary:

After years on the run, Din is given the chance to slow down and watch his son grow up. Nothing in the galaxy is going to disrupt his now quiet, peaceful life on Nevarro.

That is, until Grogus first day of school.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: teacher AU, meet/cute, reader is grogus teacher, din djarin removes the helmet, loss of virginity, force sensitivity reader

Paring: Din Djarin/Reader

link: here ✨

[pandalillith]

Alright whose ready for a new sexy season of disappointment and heartbreak?!?

[evermore-fashion]

Chotronette ‘Armour Dress’ Haute Couture Gown [x]

[fashion-runways]

MARK BUMGARNER Couture Spring/Summer 2020 if you want to support this blog consider donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways

[chandelyer-deactivated20241003]

Hassidris “Ashes” spring 2019 collection

[pandalillith]

LETS DO THIS

[pandalillith]

Disappointed, but not surprised

[pandalillith]

DRAG THEM JULIE

[pandalillith]

OMFG THE IGNORANCE

[pandalillith]

Big brother 22: can’t be any worse than past seasons!