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[simpingforjoel]

I’ve gotten quite a few new followers, hi everyone!! you can call me simp and thank you for following me 💗 you can find more info about my blog below, welcome to silly simp headquarters!!

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I don’t post regular rec lists and you can consider all the fics reblogged under tags such as #joel miller fanfiction, #frankie morales fanfiction, #harry castillo fanfiction and so forth as something I’d rec for everyone to read ✨

However, sometimes when asked I have done silly little fic rec lists. you can find links to them below:

🩸 period fics

👔 marcus pike fics

🤎 swf pixel joel fics

🎮 pixel joel fics

☕️ coffee shop AU fics

🌌 din djarin fics

🌿 joel miller fics

🤰🏽joel miller as your baby daddy fics

💫 ppcu AU fics

🎄christmas fics

if you enjoy feral hornyposts about our fave ppcu boys you can check my posts under #simpingforjoelhornyhours, where I thirst after fictional men. please note that I’m no writer, I just have horny thots and no shame in sharing them!!

I sometimes make shitty little memes too and things such as xmas or valentine’s day greeting cards for my own enjoyment and to make my friends giggle. you can find them under the tag #simpmakessillystuff

to support queer stories and writers I’ve tried to find ppcu fics to reblog especially during pride month, you can check the reblogs under the tag #happy pride 🌈

if you enjoy festive christmas and new years themed or wintery fics, during december 2025 I posted solely those kind of fics. you can find them under the tag #down bad december 2025

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

everything's bigger in texas

pairing: joel x reader

tags/cws: size kink, praise kink, p in v, oral f and m receiving, virginity loss

summary: go big or go home on your first time

a/n: reader is a virgin, but is not specified to be a certain age and in my mind is only a bit younger than joel

div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @faysslut @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

It's embarrassing. It's the reason why you'd hesitated to even talk to Joel in the first place, fearing he might like you back, in which case, he might ask you out, and according to Cosmopolitan and the metaphorical grapevine, you would only get three dates at most before you'd have to end it. And you better not order the fucking lobster. Ever.

You get dolled up on the night you plan to bid him adieu. You'd feel horrible for wasting his time regardless, but the fact that he decides to treat you to dinner at a fancy restaurant for your third date, makes you feel even worse.

The worst part of it all is: you really like him. He makes you feel like you're in high school again despite the fact that he's decades past that point in his life - it's the way your heart flutters in his presence, the way he makes your cheeks heat up when he compliments you. However, this is anything but an innocent crush. You want more than the kiss on the cheek he gives you when he greets you at your doorstep, more than his hand holding yours as he helps you step in and out of the car, more than his arm around your waist as he leads you to the table.

You want him to fuck you.

You try to give yourself a pep talk in the mirror before he arrives, and for an extra confidence boost, you wear the singular pair of underwear in your drawer that matches the one bra that actually fits right, hoping it'll make you feel sexy. But what good is sexy if you’re not going to have sex?

But, at the restaurant, you decide to order a double shot of liquid courage, which is a one-way ticket to going home with Joel.

He drives with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh. He’s so hot that even the smallest things can get you worked up. It’s the first time in a long time that your arousal has been able to override your nerves.

You barely get your coat off before you’re pressed up against the door, and he’s kissing you with a type of hunger you’ve never felt before. You know he'll leave you with a case of stache-rash but you can't bring yourself to care.

You stumble across the room to the couch – you would’ve walked backwards into the coffee table if Joel hadn’t picked you up and carried you. You’re not even that drunk - at least, not on alcohol – just insistent on not breaking the kiss until you’re out of breath and you absolutely have to. 

When his body looms over you, all you're thinking about is the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands playing with your tits, making you gasp when his thumbs brush over your nipples. 

He gets so far as slipping his hand up your dress, but the moment his fingers brush the gusset of your panties, you grab his wrist. 

"Joel—"

"Yeah?" He's quick to sit up and back off completely — not exactly what you intended but you're grateful that he respects boundaries.

"I should just be honest with you. I’ve never done this before, so I’m a little nervous…"

You're more than a little bit nervous, especially when you're so used to guys making up excuses to leave when they notice your hesitance after you reveal the truth, after they find out that they're not guaranteed to have you in bed that night.

Joel doesn't kick you out, not even close, he looks unfazed, and you're at a loss. The script you've planned says: end scene, but the camera is still rolling. You have to ad lib.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to do that. I’m more than satisfied just getting to kiss you. Hell, I’d be happy just to have you sit on the couch with me, not touching or anything.”

You should feel more comfortable - and in a way, it does - but the novelty of the situation still leaves you dumbfounded.

You can see the worry in his eyes gain prominence as you remain silent.

"Hey," he says quietly. "Are you okay? I promise we don't have to do anything like that. We can just hang out, watch a movie or somethin', no touching at all."

"But I want you, Joel. That's the problem. I really want you."

"I want you too, but only when you're ready."

“I am ready, just nervous since this is new to me.”

“Is this your first time doing anything… of that nature?”

"No, I’ve done some things, I just haven’t gone all the way yet."

Handjobs, blowjobs, the whole nine yards - well, really, the first three bases in the sports/sex analogy.

“Would you like to tell me about those things?”

The look in his eyes – sweet and suggestive all at once gives you a spark of confidence. 

"I could tell you, but I’d rather show you," you say with a flirtatious smile. 

"Only if you let me return the favor."

It takes a lot of willpower to keep yourself composed when you're face-to-dick with Joel. You feel a rush of something — lust, nerves, both? All you can think is: there's no way that is ever going to fit inside me.

It doesn't fit down your throat, not even close, but Joel's 50, not 20, so he knows that unlike in pornography, most women cannot deepthroat. He doesn't expect you to even attempt such a feat. Just looking into your eyes while you're on your knees for him is enough to get him there.

Post-orgasm, he's internally beating himself up for not using his good southern manners and pleasing his woman first. The best he can do is double his typical dedication when he goes down on you.

He doesn't need to try that hard. In what feels like mere seconds, Joel's fingers work you open, pulling an orgasm from you when he dips his head between your legs and flicks his tongue over your clit.

When he can tell you're close, he says, "I'm right here, baby. Let go for me." His lips return to your clit and with his reassurance you let yourself fall over the edge.

It's not until your fourth date that you actually make your first attempt to lose your virginity.

He makes you cum twice - once on his fingers, once on his tongue - before he even takes his cock out of his underwear.

You're tired by that time, ready to apologize and see yourself out, but then you look at him, naked and hard in front of you, and despite your exhausted body, your pussy drools (maybe your mouth too). It gives you a jolt of energy, a rush of blood down south.

Joel’s body is positioned perfectly above you, ready to give himself to you, but he waits, looks at you with admiration in his eyes but doesn’t touch you. When he does, it's his right hand on your cheek.

"Are you gonna… put it in?" you say, laughing a little – anything to break the tension.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay first," he says with a warm smile.

"I'm more than okay," you assure him.

At your confirmation, his kisses move from your cheek to your jaw, they get rougher at your neck, your collarbone. He sucks on your tits until you whine in impatience.

You feel his breath as he huffs out a laugh into your neck between kisses. But you're more focused on the head of his cock prodding at your entrance. When Joel presses himself inside you — one inch first — you both take in a sharp breath. You're audibly wet, but there's still a stretch, a sting.

Joel sees your eyes squeezed shut and feels you tense up.

"You wanna stop?" he asks.

"No," you tell him. "Just… go slow."

He takes your hand, interlocks your fingers, before giving you another inch. For whatever reason, you hadn't expected him to be this sweet during sex, but you have no complaints.

Gradually, it starts to feel better, a lot better. You start to understand why people like this so much.

But then, you accidentally sabotage yourself when your gaze fixates on his cock going in and out of your pussy. A sense of shame falls over you when you realize he's only halfway inside you.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"It's not all the way in," you sigh.

"And that's okay, baby."

"I wanted to be able to take it all… I wanted to be good for you."

"Trust me, baby, it feels fuckin' amazing. You're squeezin' me so damn tight you're gonna make me embarrass myself."

"I can't help it."

"I know," he says, leaning down to whisper beside your ear, "and that's what makes it feel even better."

You whimper quietly - it's a flustered, needy, good noise, but still, Joel cups your cheek and holds infinite comfort within his touch as he shushes you, saying, "you're doing so good for me."

With slight shift of his hips, a change in angle, he hits that special spot inside you and you can feel the pleasure begin to build.

You moan — louder than you intended to — and it almost startles Joel, briefly takes him out of his trace. He doesn't know your sobs of pleasure well enough to be sure they're not ones of pain.

"You okay? You want me to pull out?"

"No, don't pull out. Do that again," you say, frantically grasping at him, horrified at the thought of him no longer being inside you.

"Do what again?" he says with a subtle smirk that lets you know that he knows exactly what. 

"This?” he asks as he hits the same spot again and you can't tell him 'yes' when your mouth is busy with far more obscene noises, so you nod.

"Right there?" he confirms again, as he steadily thrusts in and out of you, not pushing any deeper, only meeting that special spot over and over.

It's rhetorical, and your 'uh-huh' is more than sufficient as an answer.

Pride mixes with lust and he rattles off praises, knowing he'll get your tight, wet heat to clench around him with every single word.

"You're takin' me so well, baby. You look so pretty like this," he says.

You cry out his name like it's the only word you know, over and over again.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep sayin' my name like that, baby."

And it's not calculated dirty talk, it's just the goddamn truth.

With begging eyes and a mouthful of moans, you nod and hope your wordless gesture will convey the meaning, which is: please.

Your legs wrap around his hips and there is nothing Joel can do to hold himself back from burying himself to the hilt. There's nothing he can do to stop himself from spilling his load inside you immediately.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, and you can see a bulge in your abdomen, and it would be fascinating if you weren't focused on clutching the sheets for dear life in an effort to save Joel from the wrath of your acrylics as you shudder through your orgasm.

You nearly lose yourself in the bliss of your high, all you know is Joel and the way he feels inside you.

When you come to, you turn to Joel and he says, "I'm proud of you," a phrase that never fails to make you melt.

You want to say "thanks" or "I love you" or any normal response one might give to that statement, but your words are already halfway out of your mouth.

"I swear you're gonna kill me with that thing," you say, gesturing to his cock, which looks not nearly as threatening when it's soft.

When he lies down beside you and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, you think to yourself, "maybe I am dead, and this is heaven."

You don’t realize you’ve said it aloud until Joel says, "I'm pretty sure we're still in Texas, baby.”

"Same thing.”

[simpingforjoel]

I’m obsessed with this sweet and sexy joel rocking the reader’s world for the first time!! 🫠🤭🔥

[absurdthirst]

Collateral Babysitter {Clint Flood x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3k

Warnings: Smoking, breaking and entering, bodily threats, insults, demeaning language, domestic violence, fear, cursing, enforcers, safety and refuge, Clint being a soft girl dad, anger, baby sitting, threats against children, kidnapping, fighting, angst, knife violence, police, confessions, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, protected sex, emotional comfort

Comments: When your boyfriend can't pay his debt, Clint takes you as collateral. Getting you away from the asshole that is abusing you and solving his problem with needing a babysitter for his young daughter.

A/N: Debut Clint Flood fic!!!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Clint Flood MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Clint huffs as he walks up the driveway, his cigarette smashed under his boot after he tosses it down. He exhales the smoke and flexes his fingers, approaching the front door. He swings the bat he had in his hand, smashing the glass, and he reaches in to unlock the door. He strides in, boots crunching the glass beneath his feet, "well, ain't this cute." Clint declares as your boyfriend stands behind you, his arms keeping you pinned against his chest. Your eyes are wide and Clint can't believe your pussy boyfriend is using you as a human shield. "Fuck off, asshole. I already gave you the last of the money I owe." Jenson lies and Clint snorts, swinging the bat, "my boss says you paid the principal. Now you owe him interest. You got it?" He tilts his head, "because he is gonna want some form of payment. Perhaps I just smash your kneecaps?"

You whimper when your boyfriend tightens his grip on you, a sound that mimics fear, but it’s really born out of pain. Your ribs are cracked, you just know it. Every breath is a struggle and it’s only because Jenson doesn’t want to mess you so that no one can tell what a mean bastard he is behind closed doors. You hate him with every fiber of your being and yet you haven’t left. Can’t leave. Tied to him in some kind of sick, twisted way that leaves you putting up with his fits of rage and abuse when things don’t go his way. Which is pretty fucking often. “Don’t hurt him.” You gasp out, knowing that when he heals, he will just take it out on you like it’s your fault instead of his own gambling addictions that have led to this moment.

Clint scoffs, unable to believe you’re defending the asshole. “I appreciate the concern, Princess, but he’s gotta pay his debts. Otherwise I’ll be back. And if he still doesn’t pay…well, I can’t guarantee his safety. So maybe you wanna let go of the girl and face me like a goddamn man.” He says as his gaze flicks from you to Jenson.

You shiver, the dark look in the enforcers eyes is something akin to disgust, but it’s for Jenson. Something that screams that he thinks the man that torments you is pathetic. Your boyfriend growls, pissed to have his manhood challenged and he squeezes you harder, making you cry out in pain.

Clint clenches his jaw at yo[‘]ur cry of pain. You’re hurt. The asshole must’ve hurt you. He huffs and shakes his head, “you got thirty fucking seconds.” He warns and your boyfriend growls, shoving you forward and down to the floor. You cry out, bracing yourself with your hands, “take her. She’s gotta be worth something. Take that whore.” Jenson orders and Clint scoffs, unable to believe he’s giving you away like you’re a used car.

Your eyes widen as you look up at the man in front of you. Horrified that Jenson would suggest something like that. That he would just sell you. “No.” You gasp out, but Jenson growls, “shut the fuck up.” He kicks at you, but you manage to scramble out of his way. “Jenson, you can’t-“

“Shut the fuck up!” Jenson yells at you, his fist raised and Clint barely refrains from swinging the bat at the asshole. “I’ll take her but you get her back when you bring the money you owe.” He decides, knowing his boss will have his ass if he leaves empty handed and honestly, he wants to get you away from this asshole. “Go pack your shit, Princess.” He orders, “you’re coming with me.”

You want to protest, but the angry look on Jenson’s face makes you snap your mouth shut. If you stayed, he would beat you. Stumbling to your feet, you shrink down as you inch past the man, nearly crying as you rush down the hall to grab your things. You have no idea what will happen to you, going with him - but it might be better.

Clint swings the bat in his hand casually like he’s waiting for the bus, and Jenson eyes him, unsure if he’s going to swing. “You giving up your girl to pay your gambling debts?” Clint scoffs, “you’re a piece of shit.” He says and Jenson chuckles, “she’s a whore that I keep around for fun. She used to talk back. Doesn’t anymore.” He smirks proudly and Clint’s upper lip curls. When you appear with your bag, he doesn’t hesitate to swing the bat, taking your boyfriend’s knee out. “Fuck!” Jenson screams and Clint looks at you, “come on princess. You can have her back when you pay.” He reminds Jenson and makes his way towards the front door.

You have no choice but to follow him, eyeing Jenson as he writhes on the floor clutching his knee. Spitting curses and not even worrying about you. Outside, you see a dark car in the driveway and he is opening the passenger door for you apparently, “what is your name?” You ask, stopping in front of the door and nervous about what you are getting into.

He doesn’t respond, “get in.” He orders and you shake your head, “not until you tell me your name.” You order and he huffs, “Clint.” You nod and slide into his passenger seat before he shuts the door behind you. He tosses the bat into the back seat and slides in, turning on the engine. “Gotta take you to the boss.” He says and pulls away from the curb.

You curl in on yourself, huddling near the door as you start to cry. Your ribs ache and it hurts to know that Jenson didn’t care about you at all. You had managed to convince yourself that he just let his anger get the best of him, but you can’t excuse this. You’re scared of what this boss might do to you, what Clint might do.

Clint pulls up outside the house, cutting the engine and he looks at you, how terrified you look. “He’s not gonna hurt you. I won’t let him.” He promises, “and we gotta get you checked out. Get those ribs looked at.” He’s had enough broken ribs to recognize them.

That makes you stop crying. “How did you-“ he snorts, rolling his eyes as he looks over at you. Your hesitant gaze, fearful and heartbroken kills him, but he’s gotta report you to the boss. “You don’t bust as many ribs as I have and not know the signs.” That makes you shrink back, worried that he might be worse than Jenson despite his talk earlier. You’ve learned first hand how someone can be two faced.

Clint sees your fear and that makes his stomach twist. He steps back and shakes his head, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He promises, “I know my words don’t mean shit but I don’t touch women.” He tries to reassure you, “you won’t be hurt while I’m here.” He vows, “but we gotta go see my boss otherwise I’m gonna get the shit kicked out of me.”

You crawl out of the open door, your bag clutched in your grip as he holds it for you. Probably afraid that you would try to run off. There’s a scar on his cheek, evidence of prior violence and you bite your lip. “Wouldn’t want that.” You mumble softly.

Clint snorts, guiding you into the house and it’s loud, men drinking and playing cards. The TV playing some basketball game. You flinch and Clint moves a little closer to you until he approaches his boss sitting at the table. “What the fuck is this? Did someone order a whore?” He asks the men and you start to shake. “She’s not a whore.” Clint immediately says, “she’s collateral from Jenson. Prick didn’t have any money so I took his girl until he has it.” Clint says and some of the men wolf whistle, others chuckle. “And what the fuck am I supposed to do until then? Fuck her for payment?” His boss asks and you whimper, terrified. Clint huffs, “no. She’s - I didn’t know - he’s beating her up. She needed somewhere safe to go.” Clint explains and his boss snorts, “she ain’t staying here. Looks like she’s moving in with you. You keep her until that asshole has the funds to pay for his girl.” Clint clenches his jaw but knew that would be the case. He nods, “fine. She’s coming home with me.” The men all smirk knowingly but Clint doesn’t want you like that. “Looks like you got yourself a babysitter finally.” The boss declares as Clint guides you outside to his car.

“You don’t have to-“ you start but Clint shakes his head. “Boss will expect me to keep an eye on you.” He tells you but you just shake your head. “He won’t pay you.” You admit, knowing he will be angry when you hang around too long.

““Doesn’t matter. You need help and I need - shit, I need help too.” He confesses, opening the car door for you. “I can’t let you go yet. If he doesn’t pay…I’ll let you go. If he doesn’t pay within a few weeks.” He promises, “I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.

That, combined with naked honesty in his eyes is what makes you get back in the car. Curious why this man needs help. You had heard the joke about babysitting, but you can’t imagine this man having kids.

He gets back in and turns on the engine, pulling away from the raucous house to make his way back to the small house he lives in. The radio is softly playing but Clint keeps looking over at you. You aren’t shaking anymore but your eyes look so hollowed, like you haven’t been sleeping. When he pulls up in his driveway, he gets out and opens your door. You step out, surprised at the quiet, picturesque suburb he’s driven to you. Not the grungy apartment you expected. He walks up to his front door, opening it, and you follow behind, wondering what awaits you in his perfect looking house. “Look! Daddy’s home!” You hear and a little baby, no more than a year old, waddles towards Clint. He picks her up, immediately pressing kisses to her head as she clings to his shirt. “Hey, baby girl. You been good for Jenny?” He coos, looking over at the teenager. “Thanks so much for watching her, Jenny.” Clint thanks the daughter of his neighbor. She’s seventeen and ready to head out to college. “Lemme get you some cash.” He says, reaching for his wallet while balancing his daughter on his hip.

You’re confused, frowning slightly as you watch him pull out money and pay the girl with a smile. “Tomorrow?” She asks, shoving the cash in her pockets but Clint shakes his head. “I’ll give you a call when I need you.” He promises and Jenny smiles before shooting you a curious look but she doesn’t ask any questions as she gathers her bag and waves bye the to the baby Clint is holding. You don’t move, standing awkwardly with your bag as the door clicks closed behind.

The baby in his arms looks at you when Clint turns to face you, “this, uh, this is my daughter.” He reveals, “my wife…she, uh, she was killed the day she was born.” He explains as his heart aches. “So, uh, yeah. Let’s get you settled. I have another bedroom.” He says, reminded of the moment his wife insisted he buy a three bedroom house instead of a two because she wanted more kids. His heart aches at the thought. He was ready to retire, pay off the mortgage with his last job, and enjoy his family but that didn’t happen.

Oh god, your heart clinches at the news that his wife died in childbirth. You relax slightly and you nod. “What’s her name?” You ask softly, smiling at the baby as she looks at you.

"Nancy." Clint's heart aches at the memory of his wife asking for that movie before she was shot. Even if the movie wasn't exactly romantic, he wanted to honor her in any way he can. The baby starts to cry and he shushes her, rocking her in his arms, "I know, baby girl. It's your bedtime." He coos, smiling at her until he looks over at you, "lemme show you to the guest room. You can put your stuff in there. I'm gonna put her in her crib."

“Okay.” You are wary, but a little more relaxed because of the baby. Surely a man who has such obvious affection and love for his baby girl can’t be all bad. He shows you a modestly furnished, yet comfortable looking bedroom. And the best part is that you don’t have to share it with a man who abuses you and then expects sex. Unless Clint wants to take advantage of you being here.

Clint watches you as you inspect the room, it’s obvious you’re nervous, and he wants you to know he’s not gonna hurt you but only time will establish that. “Settle in. Bathroom is next door. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge. Beer if you want it. Whatever you want, just take it. You’re our guest.”

“Unwanted guest.” You murmur softly after he leaves the bedroom with the baby. You wince as you sit down on the bed, and you press your hand to your side gingerly. You can’t believe this has happened to you, you are staying with complete stranger, being held as collateral for a fucking debt your boyfriend incurred. You sigh as you lean back slowly, hissing when your broken ribs protest and you start to cry. This might be rock bottom for you, 

Clint coos to Nancy as he lays her in her crib after changing her and giving her a bottle. “Goodnight, baby girl.” He whispers as she snuggles down, completely unaware of the horrors of the world. He fully intends to keep her that way. Clint leaves her room, the baby monitor in hand, and he makes his way into the living room but he hears your cries of pain. Frowning, he makes his way into the hallway, “you okay, princess?” He asks, calling through the door.

You don’t answer, don’t know if you can answer. Your eyes are closer but you hear the door slowly open. “Princess?” He sounds concerned, not annoyed, but you can’t look at him. Your body hurts too badly.

He frowns when he sees you laid out on the bed, tears on your cheeks, and you look like you’re in agony. “Shit. What did he do to you?” He asks softly, taking a step closer. “Let me help you.”

“He- it was my fault.” You gasp out, eyes pinched shut as you try to breath through the pain. “I - I burned dinner and he just lost control. I shouldn’t have made him mad.” You heard it every time he ‘apologized’ for the slap or the beating.

Clint scoffs, “it's not your fault. Never your fault. He - fuck - I can’t believe he did this to you. I should - fuck - I should’ve smashed his goddamn ribs in.” He growls and sees your eyes widen, “I’m sorry. I- shit. Lemme get you some ice and I have some painkillers.”

“No you don’t have to-“ you start to protest but Clint just rolls his eyes and tuts. “You’re hurt.” He reminds you, as if you’ve forgotten. “I might hurt people for a living but I’m not going to hurt you.” He murmurs softly. “And it’s not like I enjoy hurting people.” He admits after a moment. “Let me help you.” Your eyes open and you see his eyes, expressive and not holding anything back. He looks completely different from the man who had broken into your house to threaten Jenson. Biting your lip, you nod. “Okay.”

He watches you, seeing how skittish you are, and he’s tempted to drive back and teach Jenson what it’s like to have broken ribs. “There’s not much we can do. You’re gonna have to ice and take some painkillers, let them heal. Can I - can I see?” He asks, wanting to see the damage.

“I don’t know if you can see much.” You tell him, but you reach for the hem of your shirt. Lifting it up to show him your stomach right below your bra.

He frowns, seeing the scratches and scraps that cover your skin, “can I touch you?” He asks, wanting you to be comfortable. You nod and he gently presses his fingers to your skin. You hiss and his nostrils flare, trying to keep his anger under control. “I’m sorry, Princess.” He murmurs, “he’s - did he hit you anywhere else?” He asks, pulling his hand away.

Shaking your head, you huff slightly. “No, it was always here.” You admit. “He slapped me once, but the swollen cheek was noticeable.” Now that you are away, you can admit things that you would try to ignore. Even if he pays his debt, which you know he won’t, you aren’t going back to him.

Clint clenches his jaw, unable to believe that anyone would treat a woman like this. He shakes his head, pulling his hand away, "let's get you some ice and some painkillers." He murmurs, "you're safe here. I promise." He steps back, turning to find his well stocked first aid kit.

You believe him, you actually believe him, that’s the thing that amazes you. You watch him walk out and you wonder how he managed to beat people up for a career when he is obviously better than any other man you know. His kid is cute and you’ve always kind of liked kids, although you haven’t been around too many of them.

He tries to keep his fury under control. Clint is a violent man but only to assholes who deserve it. He’s never touched a woman in his life. If he was ever asked he’d rather get beaten up himself. He can’t believe that bastard has hurt you. He controls his temper and comes back into the bedroom with a first aid kit and some ice packs. “This should help but I have some pain meds that will keep you comfortable.”

“You don’t have to do this.” You are a little embarrassed by how much of a fuss he’s making. He huffs and looks at you before he gently starts to place the ice packs on your stomach. You hiss slightly, but the ice helps the ache. “You are very nice to me.” You murmur in awe of that fact.

He snorts, “just being a decent human being.” He clarifies, “and you deserve more.” He insists, “and you’ll be looked after for as long as you stay here. No one will hurt you.” He reaches for the pill bottle, “take two of these.” He orders, handing you a bottle of water.

You take the pills from him without question and pop them into your mouth to wash down with a sip of water. “Thank you.” You murmur softly, leaning back against the bed and watching him with a renewed sense of curiosity. “What made you do this?” You ask. “Beat people up?”

He can’t help it, he snorts. “I didn’t really plan to get into this. Kinda happened. When I was a kid, I would get into fights. I got too damn good at fighting and well, my dad owed this guy money. He heard about me and I - I ended up working for him to pay off my dad’s debt. I wasn’t really planning on making it a career but I was angry at the world and needed money after I paid off the old man’s debt. Kinda stayed in the job until my wife got pregnant then I decided I was gonna quit.”

You bite your lip, feeling kind of sad that he basically had fallen into a life that is obvious that he wouldn’t have chosen for himself. “And then she died in childbirth.” You murmur. “I’m sorry, I hate that you had to lose her.”

He sighs, thinking for a moment, until his eyes meet yours. Glistening with tears that won’t fall, “she got shot when we - I was doing one last job and she was in the car. Some kid - he was the kid of a guy I was paid to beat the shit out of years ago. He came over and pointed the gun at me. My wife - she was brave - she shot him before he could hurt me but his gun went off, hit her and she - fuck - she died. They didn’t think the baby would make it.” He confesses, his voice now near a whisper at the memory.

“Oh my god.” Your eyes widen in horror, making you reach out for him instinctively but you hiss in pain and pull away. “I am so sorry.” You whisper after a moment. “That- that’s horrible. I am - I hate that you had to go through that.”

Clint nods, glancing across the room to the doorway, and he is reminded of his wife poking her head in to check on him when he was painting the nursery. Her soft smile and bright eyes. His throat tightens and he looks back at you, “thanks. She - I miss her every day. Nancy looks just like her.”

“Then she was beautiful.” You can see how much he loves his wife and it makes you wish that one day you can find someone that would love you like that. To miss you when you were gone. “Your daughter is a beautiful little baby.”

“She’s my world.” Clint confesses, “that’s why I got back into the job. I wanted to make enough money for her future before I give up the job for good. I’m nearly done. I wanna give her the world. She deserves it after losing her momma.”

“She already has her world.” You remind him softly. “If something happens to you…..” you don’t finish that thought, don’t want to upset him.

“I’m not gonna leave her. That’s why I’m gonna finish these last jobs and get out.” He clarifies, “but I- I need help.” He confesses, “I have no family here. I need someone to watch her while I finish my business.”

“And that’s why you volunteered to take me in.” You hum, knowing that it’s not exactly self-sacrificing, but no one ever is. “You would trust me to watch her? I’m a stranger.”

He shakes his head, “no. No. At first, it was to make him pay up but then I saw you wince in pain and I just wanted to get you out of there. Now I’m thinking maybe you could help me out until we get you established and away from Jenson.” He offers, “and you seem like you’re a good girl. You just had a shitty situation.”

You can’t help the tears that fill up your eyes. Never having someone who just wanted to help before throws you off. Lifting a hand to wipe away the wetness before he can get annoyed. “I’m sorry.” You mumble. “I’ve- I normally never cry.” You always pretended like Jenson didn’t hurt you, hiding tears and putting on a brave face. Now, you’ve cried like three times in front of Clint.

“It’s okay. Cry if you want. I’m no stranger to tears. My wife was pretty hormonal when she was pregnant. Would cry if she ran out of ice cream.” He chuckles fondly, “I’m never gonna think differently if you decide to cry or laugh or scream. It’s your goddamn emotions.” He says and swallows harshly, realizing he’s said too much.

You stare at him for a moment. “Are you sure you’re real?” You ask after a moment, your voice in a whisper. “I think I might be dreaming you. A handsome, kind man who doesn’t get upset at everything?” You snort. “Must be dreaming.”

He scoffs, shaking his head and looking over at the doorway, “I’m no hero, princess. I am fucked up but I’m trying to be better for my baby girl. And you deserve better than some asshole who hits you because you don’t do what he wants. Let’s get you healed and then I’ll figure out how to get you settled somewhere else where Jenson can’t find you.”

You believe him. And that scares you for a lot of reasons, but you will just have to hope and trust that he means what he says. “Thank you.” You murmur softly. “I think- I should be able to watch her tomorrow if you need?” You know you will still hurt, but it’s always a lot better the next day.

He nods, “I’d appreciate that. I have to go to the store. She needs diapers and I need to do a job.” He confesses, “I don’t - the boss is gonna let me go soon.” He murmurs, unsure if he buys that but he’s gonna try.

“Okay.” You bite your lip. “Just so you know…uh, I don’t have a lot of experience with kids. Babies, I mean.” You admit, wanting to be completely honest. “So you might have to make a list for me or something.”

Clint snorts, “I didn’t know either but you learn fast. Main things are diapers and formula.” He promises, “and making sure she doesn’t bash her head.” He offers you a reassuring smile, “if I can do it, I’m sure you can.”

“You are putting a lot of faith in me.” You joke, the painkillers he’s given you are actually taking the pain away and making you a little sleepy. You wonder what he gave you, but it doesn’t really matter. “Thank you.” You murmur softly.

He smiles, nodding gently. “That’s alright. Now, get some sleep. I’m gonna head to bed. Nancy will be waking me up before I know it.” He shifts to stand up, “if you need anything, wake me up.” He orders and you nod, “I will.” Clint grunts, grabbing the baby monitor, “goodnight, Princess.” He offers, stepping back before he closes your door.

Alone in your bed, you close your eyes and sigh softly. Clint might have broken into your house, threatened Jenson and basically kidnapped you but you think he might have been saving you in reality. “Goodnight Clint.” You murmur before you fall asleep.

****

“Shhhh baby girl. It’s okay. Daddy’s here.” Clint murmurs to Nancy as he picks her up. She’s woken in the middle of the night, crying, and he cradles her in his arms. “Let’s change your diaper and get you some milk, sweetheart.” He coos, kissing her head, “and let’s not wake up our guest.”

You are awake, your ribs hurting, but it’s not as sharp as it was before. Listening to Clint as he murmurs to his daughter through the wall next door. It’s a comforting sound, his voice low and soothing. Making you get up and crack the door open just a bit to see him walk down the hall, the dim glow from the kitchen lighting his path. You see the broad expanse of his back, bare and scared from the life he has led. Watching as he walks with bare feet and a pair of tighty-whities that makes you stifle a giggle as you close the door again. He doesn’t seem so intimidating now.

****

Clint hears you moving around as he lets Nancy hold her bottle, her eyes fluttering as she relaxes, “sounds like our guest is up, baby girl.” He murmurs, watching the door open and you appear moments later. “Morning, Princess.” He greets you, now dressed and coffee brewed, he’s anxious to start the day. “You sleep okay? Hope Nancy didn’t wake you up.”

“I slept well.” You are dressed in a fresh set of clothes, but you know at some point you will need to shower. The painkillers and rest helped and you are feeling better although you will need to be cautious for awhile.  “It’s okay that she did. Wake me up, I mean.” You watch the little girl eat and you look around. “Can I make you breakfast?” You offer.

Clint is shocked by the question and he shakes his head, “you don’t have to cook for me. If you want eggs, there’s eggs in the fridge. Coffee brewed and there’s bread in the bin.” He offers, “this one has been fed.” He smiles at Nancy.

You nod and wipe your hands on the shorts you are wearing, “Will you show me how to change her diaper?” You ask. “And tell me how to make her bottles? Does she eat anything else?” You had thought of a million questions to ask. “Does she nap? I think babies nap.”

He nods, happy to have help after so many months of caring for his daughter alone while grieving his wife. “Sure. She has soft foods right now. She’s slowly having chicken and she has a lot of fruit. It has to be cut up so she doesn’t choke. I can show you. She naps every day for a couple of hours. You’ll know when she’s ready because she gets goddamn grumpy.”

You giggle, his frown almost fierce and he sounds just as grumpy as she must be when she’s needing a nap. “Okay. When she cries and doesn’t want to play she wants a nap.” You agree with a nod. “Cut up her fruit into small bites. Soft foods.”

He nods, “yep. Oh, it’s time to teach you how to change a diaper.” He chuckles, feeling the weight of her bottom and he sets the empty bottle down. “Come on princess.” He walks into her nursery, laying her down on the mat, and undoes her onesie. “First step. Get the diaper out. Second step, unbutton the bottom only. She doesn’t need to be naked for a new diaper. Then you’ll want to remove the diaper, roll it up and put it in the diaper bin.” He says as he shows you the steps. Grab the wipes. Wipe her clean. See if she’s chafing and put some diaper cream on her skin. After that, lift her to put the new diaper on andddd, button her back up. There you go, baby girl. All clean.” He coos, lifting her up from the changing mat.

He makes it look so easy and it’s such a paradox. Such a rough looking man, being so gentle with his little girl. You’ve seen the violence he can bring, but he is cooing and smiling at her. It makes you melt for this man who has managed to take you away from your life of abuse and treat you just as gently as he does her. “That looks easy.”

He nods, “takes practice. Girls are easier. Boys will piss on you.” He says, remembering how he learned that from the baby books. “Now, let’s show you how to make up her bottle.” He smiles, “I, uh, really appreciate you helping me look after her.”

You smile, almost a teasing grin. “It’s almost like that’s what I was brought here for.” Clint frowns slightly and you reach out to touch his arm. “Thank you.” You murmur softly. “I wouldn’t have left, even though I know I needed to.” You admit. “You took me away from that. I didn’t have anywhere to go and you’ve given me a place to be. A purpose for now.”

He stares at you for a moment until his eyes drop to your hand on his arm. His stomach twists with something unknown and he nods, “no woman deserves to be abused. Most men would’ve done the same. I- I would’ve done more to him but my boss told me to just hurt him enough so he could pay up.” He scoffs, “I bet he won’t pay up so I’ll be back there to see him.”

You snort. “He’s not gonna pay.” You tell him confidently. “He’s bragging about not paying. He’s such a dumbass.”

Clint snorts, “sure thing, princess. He hasn’t seen me get nasty.” He chuckles, “he has no clue who he’s fucking with. He will pay.” He promises, “and you - tell me if you wanna go. I can help you out. Get you settled somewhere.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” You remind him softly. “I’ll help you. You need help just like I do. We can help each other.” It sounds like a good thing to you. You need a safe space, time to heal emotionally and physically. What better place to heal than with the last person your ex wants to see.

He nods in understanding, “just tell me if you have second thoughts or something bothers you. I don’t leave the toilet seat up, my wife always slapped me for that.” He teases and he sees you flinch, “shit. Sorry. I meant she told me to stop that shit. She didn’t - I would never - you’re safe here.” He promises, not wanting to trigger you.

You nod, understanding that he would think nothing of a little joke like slapping someone in jest. You used to do the same thing, before Jenson. “It’s okay.” You want to soothe him, and that surprises you. “I understand what you meant. I- I’ll be okay.”

He’s not buying it but he doesn’t push you. You need time, you need to heal, and he will give you all the time you need. “I, uh, I’m gonna get some groceries. Do you wanna come with? Pick out what you like?” He offers, “and I wanna take Nancy to the park.”

It sounds like a nice little outing, almost like a family spending the day together. “Sure.” You nod. “If that’s okay, I mean.” You bite your lip. “I need to uh, get some, uh-“ you sigh. “I need some tampons. Jenson always waited until I ran out to buy more. And I know I’m gonna start in a few days.”

Clint huffs, “what a winner.” He rolls his eyes, “you can get what you need…what you want.” He promises, “when you need it.” He assures you, “take your time to heal and figure out what you want next.” He reminds you just as Nancy wiggles in his arms. “Okay, sweetheart.” He snorts, carrying her to her playpen so she can crawl around. “I got some bills to pay then we will head out.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’m just- I’ll be here. So you do what you need to do.” You are a little nervous, but you know you need to take care of the baby. The house is neat, but it’s obvious it’s been some time since it’s been really cleaned and you can take care of that for him too.

Clint goes to sit down at the kitchen table, grabbing the stack of bills he has to pay. He’s a little behind where he wants to be, that’s why he took the job to get your boyfriend to pay. He sighs, grabbing his checkbook, and he looks up to watch you try to find a cup for the coffee. “Next cupboard over.” He says, reaching for his pen.

“Thank you.” You open the cupboard to find surprisingly feminine cups. Floral patterns on them and you wonder if they were his wife’s. It would make sense. Picking one, you close the cupboard quietly and pour up a cup. Taking a sip and sighing softly at the rich and bold flavor.

He can already see you’re more relaxed and he goes back to his bills, mentally figuring out what he has to pay out and how much he’s made. He sighs, rubbing his forehead, and he is reminded of why he’s taking these jobs. He wants to focus on Nancy and not worry about money.

You watch him for a moment, always finding it telling the way a man worries. Clint is contained, sighing as he rubs his head. Nancy squawks from the living room and you set your cup down and rush in there to see if she needs you.

He looks up, watching you as you come back into the kitchen with his baby girl in your arms. His heart aches for a moment, knowing it should’ve been his wife standing there. It should’ve been her holding her daughter. He inhales deeply and taps his pen on the table, listening to you talk to her. “I, uh, I’m gonna use the bathroom then we can go.” He says, chair scraping as he abandons the bills and heads to the bathroom.

You watch him walk away, wondering if you did something wrong. He looked upset as he rushed out of the room. “What did I do?” You ask Nancy softly, but she just gurgles at you happily and reaches for your face. You flinch slightly but the baby can’t hurt you, not like a man’s fist. “Do you need stuff to go out?” You ask, like she would answer you.

After washing his hands and then his face, Clint steps out of the bathroom and finds you still holding Nancy. “Gotta check her diaper bag.” He tells you, grabbing the backpack, it’s pink and you smirk at the thought of him carrying that around. Clint doesn’t care because his wife bought this backpack and he checks it, adding some diapers and a bottle before he zips it up. “You ready to go?” He asks and you nod, “just gotta get my shoes.” Clint steps forward to take Nancy, watching you as you disappear into the bedroom.

You actually are looking forward to going out. It’s been a long time since you’ve not been jumpy and nervous about going out. Afraid of somehow upsetting your ex and hearing about it when you get back. You put your shoes on and grab your purse, putting a little of the money you had taken in your wallet for yourself. Not expecting Clint to pay for your necessities. You come back out and smile when you see Nancy cuddled on Clint’s chest, her thumb in her mouth. “I’m ready.” You tell him quietly. “Is she sleepy already?”

“Nah, she’s fine. Maybe in a little bit. She might fall asleep in the car.” He says and carries her to her carrier. She moans at being put in there but settles down after a moment and he looks at you, “you ready?” You nod and he guides you outside to his car. You slide into the passenger side while he settles Nancy in the backseat. “Alright. Let’s go.” He says, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel before backing out of the driveway.

You are quiet on the drive, watching the neighborhood and the houses go by. There is a quiet charm to the area, the type of place where you don’t see so many fights, the cops aren’t called out every weekend. It’s peaceful, “you have a nice place.” You tell him honestly.

He looks over at you, “thanks. I, uh, beat up a lot of people to get it.” He snorts out a confession, “but I wanted to give my wife the best - what she wanted. Just so it was all worth it.” He confesses, pulling onto the main road.

“Your daughter will grow up in a good home.” You tell him, watching the cars go by before you twist around in the seat to look at Nancy. Frowning when you can’t see her because the seat is facing the back of the car. “Why does she sit like this?”

“Because she’d get hurt if we were in a crash and she was the other way round.” He explains, “I - shit - I have a mirror that attaches but I left it at home.” He clicks his tongue, “she will lemme know if she’s know if she’s not happy.”

You laugh. “I think she has no problem making sure you know she’s not happy.” You have heard babies cry, they make sure their displeasure is noted at top volume. “But you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” You coo playfully as you twist your arm around to let her play with your hand.

Clint smiles, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, and he glances over at you. His heart aches a little for the missing piece of his wife but you aren’t taking her place. She’s still there, in Nancy, in his heart. He pulls into the supermarket parking lot. “Come on, princess. Let’s get some snacks.” He smiles, knowing he usually struggles balancing Nancy with the weekly shop so he’s glad to have an extra pair of hands.

You struggle slightly with getting Nancy out of the car seat, but you insist on doing it. While it’s not like you’re gonna take her anywhere, you need to know how. Nancy watches you with curious eyes and giggles when you pick her up. It takes a little maneuvering to get her out of the car without bashing her head, but you manage and look proud of yourself while you out her on your hip. “Ready.” You promise, smiling at him holding the diaper bag.

He watches you carry the baby, his heart aching a little but he pushes that aside to watch you. “Here, lemme take the bag.” He offers, and you hand it off to him. He nods when you thank him and you both enter the supermarket. “Did that prick let you eat?” He asks, knowing his type would be the kind to not allow food.

Your eyes widen at the question and you shrug slightly, feeling embarrassed. “As long as there was enough.” You admit. “He always had people coming over and it would be rude to not serve them.” You snort as you repeat his words to Clint.

Clint scoffs, “asshole.” He mutters, “that won’t be happening. You pick what you want and you eat when you want to eat. None of his bullshit.” He orders. “And I’m paying.” He says, not allowing room for argument.

“I can-“ he turns and his look is serious. Dark. You would think that he’s angry with you, but you can see that it’s not for you. “Okay.” You nod. “But I’ll make sure that you come home to dinner.” You tell him. “That’s the least I can do. You’ve been living off sandwiches and canned soup, haven’t you?” You ask, having seen the contents of his fridge and cabinets.

He snorts, nodding and he’s a little ashamed, “and fast food.” He confesses, “my wife did all the cooking and when she - I didn’t - it was her happy place. She would bake and cook and - and she’d make this chocolate cake when she was pregnant with Nancy.” He chuckles at the memory, “but you can have control of the kitchen. Whatever you want.”

“That’s different from what I’m used to.” You admit. “Jenson was so particular about food. He only wanted a few things, made over and over again.” You shake your head. “He just keeps sounding more and more like a winner, huh?”

Clint nods, pissed off but he doesn’t let it show. “It’s okay, Princess. Let’s go get groceries.” He says, placing Nancy in the shopping cart and swinging the grocery bag over the handles. “Pick what you want.”

****

Humming to yourself, you swipe a finger through the icing and smile at the rich and sweet taste. The kitchen smells like a bakery and hopefully it’s the perfect finishing touch to dinner tonight. Nancy is in her playpen, dragged into the kitchen because you are paranoid, playing with her blocks and squealing every time something makes her happy or frustrated or sad. You’ve learned over the last week to interpret the sounds and you grin over at her. “Need something, pretty girl?”

She blinks at you until she offers you a smile, making your heart flutter. Clint sighs as he opens the front door. You’ve been in his home for the past two weeks and it’s like you’ve been there forever. He sees your shoes at the front door when he takes his own off, watching you as you learned to care for his daughter. His heart aches with missing his wife but he also is happy to have some life back in the house. He’s working hard to finish up the jobs, wanting to get enough money to retire fully and fulfil his promise to his wife. It’s always “one last job” but this time, he means it. “Something smells good.” He murmurs, stepping into the kitchen and his heart shutters at the sight of you standing there with frosting on your face just like his pregnant wife.

“Hey.” You grin at him as you lean over to pick Nancy up. She’s abandoned her toys the second she heard his voice and is standing at the edge of the playpen. “I hope you don’t mind. I made cake for dessert tonight.” You tell him. “Strawberry.” You hadn’t wanted to make chocolate since he said his late wife made it all the time. You don’t want him to think you were trying to overstep.

He steps closer and bends down to pick up Nancy. “Hey, baby girl.” He coos, kissing her head, “you been a good girl?” He asks and looks at you as he cuddles his daughter. “Strawberry sounds amazing.” He nods, his stomach growling with hunger. “I can grill up some steaks after we get this one in bed.”

“I actually already made dinner.” You admit, motioning to the stove top. “I hope pork chops are okay? I know it’s not steaks.”

He nods, shocked, “yeah. Yeah of course.” He murmurs, “that’s - damn. I’m impressed.” He offers, pleased that he doesn’t just have a quarter pounder and cold fries to eat with his beer tonight.

For the last couple of weeks, he had been insisting that you not cook. That you needed to settle in and recover, but you are all but healed now. Nancy has settled into a routine with you and you want to help out beyond watching the baby and doing a little laundry. “It’s just pork chops, scalloped potatoes, green beans and some rolls.” You shrug. “Nothing too fancy.”

He snorts, “not too fancy? Princess, that’s like Thanksgiving to me.” He chuckles and nods, “thank you. Lemme get her in bed and we can eat.” He says, knowing Nancy had dinner by the dishes in the sink.

“She’s had her bath, but let me get her bottle.” She still likes some milk as she goes to sleep, so you get out the bottle you had made about five minutes before. “Still warm.”

He looks at you in surprise and hopes you don’t see the way his expression softens. It is uncanny how easily you seem to have slipped into his life. “You’re the best, princess.” He murmurs and takes the bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing yours.

You can feel your cheeks heat up from his compliment. Still so unused to nice things being said to you instead of insults and abuse. “I’ll plate up dinner while you put her down.” Even though you could do it, Clint still wants to spend as much time with his daughter as he can. He gets up with her at night for that bonding time since you are with her all day.

He nods, “thanks, sweetheart.” He carries Nancy into her room, getting her ready for bed before giving her the bottle. “She’s good to you, huh?” He murmurs, watching his daughter hold her bottle. His late wife has missed so much. It breaks his heart but Nancy is lucky to have you. You’ve taken like a duck to water being her caregiver. “Good to us.” He adds a moment later, “we are lucky to have her.” He murmurs, imagining life once you have moved on and it makes him frown. He tries to not read too much into it but he sighs, focusing on his daughter and not your pretty smile, the one that’s appeared since you have felt safe in his home.

You plate up the foot and set two settings at the table. A beer in front of Clint’s food, since you’ve noticed he likes to unwind with one. He doesn’t get sloppy though, something you appreciate. One of the many things you’ve come to appreciate about the enforcer that brought you home to hold for ransom. He’s become even more attractive to you now that you’ve seen how kind he can be. Soft and playful with his daughter, considerate of you. You think about how you could help him sometimes, late at night with your hand between your thighs as you imagine being on your knees for him.

He walks back into the kitchen with the baby monitor in hand, and his stomach twists with emotion when he sees you sitting at his kitchen table. For a moment, his mind reminds him of a similar scene with his late wife but she’s gone and you’re here. He can’t compare you, that’s not fair. He will always love his wife but he has to learn to live without her. “This looks fucking delicious.” He compliments you, looking at the dinner you prepared and the smile you offer him has him smiling back.

****

“Daddy’s home!” You let go of Nancy to let her start her unsteady, wobbly walk towards her father after he opens the door. Her first unaided steps had been just the week before and she loves being more mobile. Thank goodness Clint had been there to see it, he had almost cried when she had done it, scooping her up and heaping praises on the giggling little girl. “Say hi, daddy!”

Clint scoops her up, a smile on his face. Nancy makes everything better. Just seeing her. He kisses her cheek and she clings to him. You smile and Clint meets your gaze. “Hey princess. Was she a good girl today?” He asks, his heart fluttering at the sight of you.

“She was a little cranky.” You admit with a laugh. “We played outside and your lovely neighbor mentioned that she might be cutting teeth.” You move to start picking up her toys. “I froze one of the little chew toys she has and she loved it, so I think that might be it.”

He can’t believe how easily you’ve taken to caring to his daughter, the little things you do to help her, and it melts his heart. “She’s been waking up a lot at night. Thanks for thinking of that. I should probably read more baby books.” He sighs, caressing Nancy’s back. “What are you cooking?” He sniffs the air and groans, “smells delicious.”

“Lasagna.” You love how he appreciates everything you do. Especially cooking. You had hated cooking for Jenson because he was so critical and wanted the same things over and over again. Clint just ate what you fixed and praised it. “Garlic bread and a salad to finish it out.” You reach out and smooth Nancy’s hair. “We should probably give her some baby Tylenol tonight, she's running a slight fever from the teething.”

He nods, “that’s a great idea. God, I’m starving.” He groans, “that sounds amazing. Let’s get her settled and we can eat.” He offers, hungry after beating a guy up today who wouldn’t pay up. His knuckles are bruised and your eyes flick to them, making him flex them and hiss. “I’ll get you some ice.” You offer too, and he nods, “thanks, Princess.”

You try not to think about what he does too often, aware that you don’t like it. You have to remind yourself that Clint never even gets frustrated at Nancy when she’s fussy and can’t be soothed. Going into the kitchen, you get a ziploc bag and bust some ice cubes out of the tray to fill it up, wrapping it in a kitchen towel to make it a little more gentle on his hands. The timer for the lasagna goes off and you slide it out of the oven to rest and put the garlic bread in. “Five, maybe ten minutes.” You tell him when you bring him the ice. “Sit with her and I’ll fix her nighttime bottle and get her medicine.”

“You’re too good to us, Princess.” He smiles softly, watching you as you move around his home like you belong here. He sits down at the table with Nancy, her hands gripping his shirt, and he murmurs to her, “you had a good day? You been standing up? Walking around? My big girl. You’re growing up so fast.” He sighs, wishing time would slow down a little so he could appreciate his daughter but life happens and he wants to finish up working like he has so she has a good life.

You listen to him as he talks to her, really talks to her. You noticed when people see a baby, they immediately change their voice. Clint doesn’t. You like that. Nancy loves the sound of his voice. She always listens to him. Making up the bottle, you come back out to the dining room. “Want me to put her down?” You offer softly. “While you ice your hand?”

He shakes his head, “thank you, sweetheart but I like to put her to bed. I haven’t been here all day so lemme say goodnight to her.” He says and you smile, “of course.” He sets the ice down, picking up the bottle with his bruised hand, and he stands up. “Say goodnight, baby girl.” He orders and Nancy babbles at you. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” You coo and Clint carries her to her room, telling her a little about his day - censored of course - while he gets her ready for bed.

You can hear the low murmur of his voice. The baby monitor is off, to give him some privacy with his daughter. You smile as you set the table, setting out his beer and bringing the lasagna over to the table before you grab the premade salad out of the fridge. The timer goes off and you slide the tray of garlic bread out of the oven and groan at the delicious smell. With his hand hurt, you decide that you’ll go ahead and plate up a square of lasagna.

Clint gently shuts the door, making his way back down the hall to the kitchen where his dinner is served. So different from the months of fast food and sandwiches he’d struggle to put together at night after Nancy was asleep. “That looks delicious, thank you Princess.” He murmurs, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“You’re welcome.” You have your own glass of wine in front of you. Clint had insisted that you should have something to unwind and relax, but you don’t care for beer. “It was no problem at all and I love that you eat my food so hungrily.”

He sips his beer, “because you’re such a good cook. Honestly, there isn’t one bad thing you’ve made me.” He confesses, “you are - you’ve been - I can’t thank you enough for all the help you’ve given me and Nancy.”

You can’t help but laugh. “You literally saved my life, Clint.” You tell him after a moment. “Watching Nancy, helping you, it’s the least I could do.” You’ve had a lot of time to think about what you put up with, and what you had ignored. Realizing what an idiot you had been. “I- I love watching her. I love her. She’s such a sweetheart and….” You shrug, not wanting to say that you love taking care of him too. “I’m grateful you’ve put up with me.”

He nods, watching you for a moment, and his heart flutters, no longer lost to the ache of losing his wife. He feels hopeful and that takes him by surprise. He sips his beer and watches you as you pick up your knife and fork. “I’m happy you’re here. I want - I want to help you. However I can. If you’re ready to go, tell me, but you are welcome to stay as long as you want.” He doesn’t add “or forever” which pops into his mind.

“You still need help with Nancy.” You immediately protest before you realize how pushy that sounds. “I mean- um, I’m- I’m happy to stay and help.” You admit, pushing your salad around with your fork. “I-uh, I like being here with you. And Nancy.” You add quickly. Your crush on Clint has grown from one of slight hero worship for saving you, to full fledged fantasies when you go to bed. It’s a little concerning how sexy you think he is, protective and dangerous, yet so gentle and kind. He’s the kind of man you’ve always wanted and he’s out of reach for you.

Clint is relieved to hear you say that but he’s also scared to pigeonhole you into his home. He doesn’t want you to resent him for keeping you here, being his housekeeper and babysitter. “Well, you’re welcome to stay but if you want to leave, you tell me and I’ll help you. You’ve got some money now so if you wanna go, you won’t hurt my feelings.” He promises despite knowing his heart would be broken to let you go. He dreads coming home to a cold home again. He’s also given you cash weekly for everything you’ve done for him, wanting you to feel like you have the freedom to leave or do what you want.

“I- I’d like to stay.” You admit softly, wondering if he’s tired of you being in his home. “Jenson still hasn’t paid.” You remind him, even though you both know that he won’t. You take a sip of your wine. “Unless you’re tired of me being here.”

His eyes widen a little, his grip on his fork tightening, “no. No. Absolutely not. I just - I never want you to feel like you don’t have a choice.” He clarifies and his stomach twists when your eyes soften, “I know.” He nods, happy that you don’t think he’s keeping you here because of the payment, “you can leave whenever you want. I’ll deal with Jenson.”

Your excuse backfired and you start to eat quietly, a little embarrassed. You can’t tell this man that you want to stay with him because you’re falling in love with him. He’s grieving his wife, his true love. He doesn’t need your emotional baggage. “Nancy needs some more diapers.” You remind him. “She’s gonna need to go up a size.”

He nods, “I’ll get her some more tomorrow.” He cuts into the lasagna and groans when the flavors hit his tongue. “Damn good.” He gestures to the plate, “you’re such a good cook. Can’t believe that asshole didn’t appreciate you.”

You fluster slightly. “You are just tired of eating sandwiches.” You snort as you take a bite of your own meal. It’s good, he’s right about that, and you are happy it turned out. Clint huffs, shaking his head at you. “No, it’s more than that.” He promises and you smile softly.

His heart flutters when you smile at him and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He knows you’re going to want to leave and he doesn’t know how he will let you go. He can’t be selfish. He has to let you go if you want. He won’t be like Jenson and keep you against your will.

After dinner, you make Clint go ice his hand again, insisting that you can clean up from dinner. He normally helps, but his hand is swollen. You’re sure he’s broken something, but you turn on the radio to start washing up, humming to yourself softly.

"I didn't think you'd end up being his house bitch. You never made me fucking lasagna." You freeze, dropping the plate in the water, and Jenson steps closer. "Don't scream otherwise I'll fucking kill the baby after I'm done with you." He promises, "I can take that asshole when he doesn't have a goddamn bat." He chuckles, stepping closer and he shows you the knife he has in his hand. "Don't scream or do anything stupid." He orders, stepping closer until he can wrap his arm around your waist, "fuck, I missed you baby."

Oh God. You whimper quietly, nodding as your breath hitches. He’s in the house, how did he find you? Why is he here? “I- are you going to pay?” You ask shakily, hoping that he will just pay the money and want to leave. You don’t want Nancy to get hurt. His chuckle is dark, low. Making your stomach twist in fear.

"Pay? Fuck no. I want you back though and my fucking money. You're gonna come back with me, not a goddamn sound. You are gonna step back with me and we are gonna walk out the back door." He demands and you whimper, the knife pressed against your neck.

“My stuff.” You remind him but he just squeezes you hard enough to make you gasp out. “Doesn’t fucking matter I’ll get it when that bastard is out looking for you.” Jenson growls. You know that if he gets you out the door, you are in serious trouble. The knife at your throat scares you but your foot kicks the trash can, making it fall over with a loud clang since it’s metal.

Clint frowns when he hears the clang of the metal, wondering if you dropped something, standing up from his bed to walk down the hall, iced hand aching, and he enters the kitchen, “everyone okay, princess?” He asks as he walks in until his eyes widen at the sight of Jenson. The surprise wears off immediately and he huffs, narrowing his eyes when he sees the knife pressed against your neck. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asks your ex.

“You bitch, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Jenson hisses, pressing the knife into your skin harder and making you cry out. It cuts into your skin slightly and makes you aware of just how sharp it is. “No! No! It was an accident!” You promise, eyes on Clint, wide and terrified. “You know how clumsy I am. Just- don’t- I’ll go with you. Just don’t hurt the baby.” You beg him.

Clint clenches his jaw, pissed that this asshole has broken into his house. His eyes flick to you, seeing your fear, and the blood that drips down your neck rips a growl from his chest. “Take her then. I don’t give a fuck.” He orders, wanting the asshole to lower his guard.

Your heart drops, eyes filling with tears as you realize that you were just a means to an end for him. No one important if he could so casually toss you back to the hell he had plucked you from. “See?” You wilt slightly, relaxing in Jenson’s arms. “Let’s just go. We can just go.” You beg your ex, tears sliding down your cheeks.

Your ex takes the bait, lowering the knife from your skin, and Clint wastes no time pushing you aside so he can slam into the asshole. His fingers wrapping around the wrist with the knife in hand, controlling it. “Motherfucker.” He growls, “coming in my house.” He knees Jenson in the crotch, making him cry out and loosen his grip on the knife.

You scramble out of the way, wrapping your arms around your stomach and watching as Clint starts to beat Jenson. The knife is pushed away and you lunge for it, wanting to keep it away from your ex. Not wanting to give him a chance to hurt you again.

Clint’s hand is definitely broken now but he doesn’t care as he punches your ex who lunges for him again. He slams him into the back door which swings open and both men tumble to the ground. “She’s mine. I’m taking what belongs to me.” Jenson growls and Clint punches him again, “she doesn’t belong to you, asshole.” Your scream echoes and he hears Nancy crying but he sees red, punching your ex over and over.

The baby. You tear your eyes away from the brawl that has spilled into the backyard, shouting and cursing accompanying the thuds of punches landing to race back to the bedroom. Nancy is screaming, face turning dark as she howls, standing and jumping at the edge of her crib. “Shhhhhh shhhhhh it’s okay.” You promise shakily, even though you feel like crying as you snatch her up and race back to make sure something hasn’t happened to her father.

Clint grunts as Jenson gets a punch in, both men rolling on the ground until Clint straddles your ex. He punches him again, his head lolling as blood covers his face. Seconds later, sirens blast and yells are heard as police storm the house, guns aimed and yelling at you to get out of the way.

“No! Don’t shoot!” You yell, holding Nancy as you rush forward. “He broke in! He tried to kidnap me!” You point to Jenson underneath Clint.

The police keep their guns raised, “get the fuck up!” They order, and Clint growls, shoving Jenson away from him as he stands, hands raised. “He broke into my house. He broke into my fucking house with my daughter sleeping here and put a knife to her neck. What would you do?” He spits out, watching Jenson as he remains on the ground.

One officer looks at you, seeing the blood streaked down the side of your neck, “madam, the man on the ground broke in and threatened you?” He asks and you nod quickly. “He’s my ex. He used to - he beat me. Clint was protecting me.” You promise, not looking at Clint since he had told Jenson to take you. You still don’t understand why he would say that, unless he was trying to trick him. “He was protecting me.”

The officer looks at Clint who nods, “yeah. Yeah. He’s - he broke in. He used to beat her up. She’s been staying with me for safety.” He reveals and the officers nod, grabbing Jensen off the floor. “Let’s take him in.”

Clint’s heart pounds now that the threat is gone and he strides over to you, cupping your cheek while reaching for Nancy. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you apart from your neck? You need to get that checked out.” He rushes out, heart thumping at the thought of you getting hurt.

You let him take his daughter but you pull away. “I’m fine.” You promise, stepping back. “But I’ll- I’ll just go over and have them look at it.” You promise, turning and walking towards the ambulance that has pulled up.

Clint nods, cradling Nancy who has now calmed down and is almost asleep on his shoulder, and he watches you. Jenson is shoved in the back of the police cruiser, no concern given to his injuries and the officers come over so he can give a statement while you get checked out.

The paramedic treats you like you’re fragile, their gloved hands carefully turning your neck and it makes you break. Tears stream down your cheeks as you sob, the realization that he could have actually killed you washes over you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that Clint had been trying to keep everyone safe, not giving Jenson any weakness to exploit, but it had been worse than when Jenson had given you over to him. The safety of the little bubble you had lived in for nearly three months had popped and now you were dealing with the aftermath.

Clint is impatient as he gives his statement, wanting to check on you, and Nancy is squirming in his arms. Picking up on his emotions, she is reaching for you when her eyes find you with the paramedics. “It’s okay, baby girl.” He murmurs, “you’re okay. She’s gonna be okay.” He almost tries to convince himself if he’s honest. He sees you crying and his heart aches, knowing you’re upset about Jenson finding you. “Thanks sir. We need her statement now and then you can see her.” Clint nods but he’s not happy.

You are wiping your eyes as the paramedics finish bandaging you up. The cuts are superficial, they tell you, but there is the chance of infection because they don’t know how clean the knife was. The police officer comes over to take your statement and you bite your lip, lowering your head as he asks you to tell him what happened. “I was washing dishes when he grabbed me. I had the radio on, I didn’t hear him come in.” Your voice shakes as you remember how it felt. “He told me to be quiet or he would kill the baby.” You choke out a sob. “I believed him. I couldn’t let him hurt her.”

He nods, his mouth downturned. “I understand. You lived with him before? Is he - did he hurt you when you lived with him?” He asks and you nod, “ye-yes. He would - for any reason. If I did something he thought was wrong, he’d hurt me. Broke my ribs.” You confess and the police officer frowns, knowing you didn’t call anyone for help. Most women don’t. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He comforts you, “that asshole is going to jail.” He promises, “and he won’t bother you again.”

“He needs to.” He has a few more questions but soon enough you are being helped down out of the ambulance and left feeling like you’re all alone as you watch them leave.

As soon as you’re released, Clint watches you and immediately steps over towards you. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks, needing to make sure you’re okay. “Did they check the cut?” He asks and you nod, “okay. Okay. Shit. Are you okay?” He can’t stop asking even though his knuckles are bloodied and bruised. The skin is broken. Jenson got a couple of hits in too so his eyebrow is cut.

“I’m- no.” You admit softly, shaking your head. “I’m- he could have hurt her.” Your eyes are filled with tears as you look at Nancy. She’s reaching for you, practically flinging herself out of Clint’s arms in order to go to you. You take her in your arms and hold her close, terrified of what might have happened.

She grips your neck, burying her face in your chest to cuddle you close and you start to cry. Clint inhales shakily, imagining losing you after losing his wife, and it has him stepping closer to both of you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you and Nancy close while the police and paramedics start to leave. His neighbors are outside but head back inside when the police leave.

You inhale the scent of him, cologne worn off, slightly sweaty and the scent of blood mixing with his natural smell. He smells safe and dangerous all at the same time. “I should leave.” You murmur softly. “This is all my fault. Nancy could have been hurt.”

He shakes his head, "not your fault. Mine. I should've made sure he wouldn't bother you again. Shit. I- I'm so sorry, princess. It's my fault. You got hurt because of me." He murmurs into your head.

“No.” You pull back and look at him in confusion. “He came back for me. He - he could have hurt your daughter, because of me. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Clint.”

He shakes his head, pulling back to cup your cheek, “don’t be stupid. He wanted you but he also wanted to hurt me. It wasn’t your fault. It - he needed to be gone for good. I should’ve finished the job when I took you away from him. I didn’t - what I said earlier in the kitchen. I didn’t mean it.” He confesses, “I never would’ve let him take you.”

You bite your lip and look up to his eye before looking back at Nancy. “Are you sure?” You ask. “It’s okay if - I mean, I understand. I’m not anyone to you. You don’t owe me anything.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he caresses your cheek. “I owe you everything.” He confesses, “you - you brought life back to my house. You have been an incredible help with Nancy. You - I couldn’t imagine my home without you.” He confesses, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

You frown slightly, searching his eyes. “I need to know what you mean.” You admit, your voice cracking slightly. “Because I’ve been trying to push down my feelings for you, I know that you love your wife and I’m not trying to replace her. I could never do that, but you are……amazing and I’m so far down the rabbit hole I don’t know what to do.”

Clint stares at you for a moment, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that drops from your eye. “I love my wife but she’s gone. She’s - I loved her but I can’t spend the rest of my life denying how I feel to be faithful to her. She wouldn’t want that. I have talked to her a lot. At night. Confessing how guilty I’ve felt because of my feelings for you. How I feel like I’ve betrayed her but I can’t stop myself from being in love with you. I think she’d want me to be happy.”

You stare at him, shocked that he just confessed to being in love with you. “You love me?” You ask, almost dumbfounded by the idea. “Not just for Nancy, but for me? To be with me?” You want to make sure that you aren’t misreading things. “Because I want - I want to sleep with you. Have sex.”

He chuckles, “oh trust me, baby. I’ve thought about that too. A lot. Felt guilty as hell because I didn’t know you wanted me.” He confesses, “had a lot of nights awake thinking about what to do. I want you. In every way a man wants a woman.”

You nod, a shiver of anticipation racing through you but Nancy demands your attention as she cuddles into your chest. “This little one needs to go down again.” You tell him. “I’m going to fix her another bottle and put her down. You need to take care of your hand.”

Clint nods, “come on princess. Let’s get you inside.” He says, placing his hand on your waist to guide you back into his home. When he’s inside, he is immediately locking all the doors and checking the windows to make sure the house is secure.

Nancy won’t let you out her down, she has to be held while you fix her bottle but you don’t mind. Everyone might need a little comfort tonight. When you are done, you carry her into her bedroom and sit down in the rocker, letting her hold her bottle while you pat her bottom and talk to her. “I’m so sorry you were scared sweetheart.” You murmur. “Your daddy wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. Neither was I. We love you and we are always gonna keep you safe. Your daddy is the best kind of man for that. He will always keep you safe.”

Nancy settles, her tiny body relaxing as she drinks her milk. You hum and her eyes start to flutter closed. Clint secures the house, his knuckles cleaned up and bandaged, and he leans against the door frame as he watches you with his daughter. “I’ll keep you both safe.” He vows, “until the day I die.” He failed to keep his wife safe and he will never make that mistake again.

You look up, smiling softly at him as your heart thumps in your chest. He looks fierce, determined to keep that vow. “I know.” You assure him. “She is very lucky. And so am I.” Looking down at the baby sleeping in your arms, you rock her for a few more moments before you slowly stand to transfer her into her crib.

He watches as you step closer to the crib and he walks over, stopping you before you put her into the crib. “Sleep tight, baby girl.” He murmurs, kissing her head. He watches you lay her down, her arms lifting above her head, and he wraps his arm around your waist as he watches her. He turns his head to kiss the side of yours, “come on, princess. Let’s let her sleep.” He whispers, guiding you to the hallway. You carefully shut the door behind you, the baby monitor still on the counter, and he pulls you into his chest. “You’re safe.” He murmurs, “I am not going to let anyone or anything hurt you.”

“I know.” You close your eyes and your arms slip around his waist. “It’s okay. He didn’t hurt me. Not really.” You promise. Jenson’s hold over you is truly over and now you will never see him again if your luck holds out. The police said that they wouldn’t need you to testify.

“He will never come near you again.” He vows, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I promise, I’ll protect you.” He leans in to nudge his nose against yours. “Did you mean it? Earlier? When you said you wanted me?” He asks, his voice gruff and lower than below. “Yes.” You whisper and he slowly brushes his lips against yours. When you whimper, his hand shifts to the back of your head and he tilts it so he can deepen the kiss.

Your hands slide up his back, feeling the muscles bunch under his t-shirt. He’s strong, hard in a lot of ways, but he’s also gentle. The way he touches you is proof. His tongue slides into your mouth and touches yours, making you moan softly. Eyes fluttering closed and your body warming instantly, turned on by the taste of him.

He groans, loving how you press yourself against him. He needs you now. Clint manages to pull back, his nose nudging yours, and he reaches for your hand. He doesn’t say a word as he guides you to his bedroom. A space you haven’t been in since you arrived but he wants to share it with you now.

“Are you sure?” You ask softly. You know this is where his wife slept. Where they shared a bed. You would understand if he couldn’t share this space with you. You didn’t even go into his room to put up his laundry. You just left it in a basket in the living room and he put it away.

He nods, “I need to have you here.” He confirms, “it’s - I’m ready.” He opens the door and you watch him as he enters, pulling you in behind him. He shuts the door behind you, setting the baby monitor on the dresser, and he turns towards you. You stare at him, chest heaving as your stomach twists, and he surges forward to press his lips to yours again.

It’s like the floodgates have been opened. Both of you are frantic for each other. Pulling and tugging at the clothes you are wearing. All while your tongues tangle together and you pass moans back and forth in your eagerness.

His hand aches but he’s determined to show you tonight how he feels. He grips the hem of your shirt, waiting a second for you to push him away, and he breaks the kiss so he can pull it over your head. “Goddamn.” He mutters at the sight of your bra. Simple but so fucking perfect. His hands immediately slide to find the clasp, needing to see more of you.

You hate pulling away from him, your hands under his shirt to touch the broadness of his back. But you let the straps of your bra slide down your arms and you toss it aside when he unhooks it. Standing in front of him to let him look. You know that he’s not been with anyone since his wife died. He’s not said it out loud, but you know. Honored that he would give himself like this to you, you want to make it perfect for him.

“Fuck. You’re so goddamn pretty.” He murmurs, his hand coming up to caress your collarbone until his hand slides down to cup your breast. “Imagined you so many times. You’re so beautiful.” He leans in to kiss you again, his injured hand cupping your other breast.

You know his hand is hurting, but he doesn’t take his focus off of you. The warm, calloused skin of his palms scraping against your sensitive flesh and making you whimper into his mouth. You’d let him do anything to you right now. You want him so much it hurts. Your fingers reach for his belt buckle, tugging his waist as you open it. Wanting to see him, to see if he’s as beautiful as you imagined.

He groans when your fingers brush the bulge in his jeans. “Fuck, you’re - better than I imagined.” He confesses, ducking his head so he can wrap his lips around your nipple. Your moan has his cock twitching under your palm and he gently bites down.

His mouth is greedy, suckling at your breast and biting down gently. It makes your cunt clench around nothing and you palm his cock harder. “Clint.” You whine.

He groans when you squeeze him through his pants, your hands fumbling to pull his belt free from the loops. He switches over to your other breast, enjoying the way you pant his name while he squeezes the breast he abandoned.

He doesn’t rush, he’s not trying to push your pants down. You, however, are ripping open his jeans and pushing your hand down into his underwear to wrap your fingers around his cock. Groaning at how thick he is. How hot he feels in your hand as you squeeze him. “Fuck.”

“Jesus Christ.” He groans when you squeeze him. Your hand is soft and smaller than his. He pants into your skin, loving how you react when he sucks on your nipple. His fingers trail down your stomach until he’s flicking open the button of your jeans, his fingers hovering over the zipper.

“Yes.” You moan softly. You start to pump his cock, although it’s awkward from the way you have to twist your wrist. “I need you naked.” You beg. “Let me see all of you.”

He grunts, stepping back, and he shoves his pants down, kicking them aside along with his boxers as he tugs his shirt over his head to expose his body to your needy eyes. He loves how you moan at the sight of his revealed flesh and he reaches back to start pulling your pants down your legs.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” You praise, looking at the broad shoulders, the slightly soft belly. There are scars that mar his skin, but it doesn’t detract from his appeal. It adds to it, if anything.

"You looking in the mirror, princess?" He smirks, helping you step out of your jeans. Your panties remain and he doesn't remove those yet. Instead, he grabs you to pull you close, his lips meeting yours as he walks you backwards towards the bed. "Lay down. I wanna taste you. Imagined it too many damn times."

Your eyes widen in surprise, unused to that kind of suggestion. Jenson always alluded to the idea that real men don’t perform oral and you had just accepted it. Although the asshole always wanted it. “Are you sure?” You ask, a little self conscious.

He frowns, “of course I’m sure.” He says, “unless you don’t like it?” He asks and you giggle, “I don’t know.” He scoffs, “lay down on the bed.” You nod, shifting to lay down and he groans at the sight of you on his bed. He watches you as you settle onto his pillow and his hands slide along your legs until he’s hooking his fingers in your panties.

You inhale deeply, your tits shaking as you watch him. He is exploring you, with his eyes and fingers. Your own hand drifts across his chest. “You can have me.” You promise him. “All of me.”

His heart pounds at your permission and he tosses your underwear over his shoulder, pushing your thighs apart with his hands. “Goddamn.” He mutters at the slick already gathered there. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He murmurs, shifts to lay on his belly and he presses kisses along your thighs until his nose nudges your mound.

You watch him, breath suspended as he smells you. Groaning in apparent approval at the scent and you can see his eyes get even darker. “Clint.” You moan, legs shifting slightly and he slides his hands up your legs to move them onto his shoulders. “I’ve got you.” He promises, right before he makes you cry out when his mouth engulfs your throbbing pussy.

He’s imagined this more than he’d ever admit so he decides to devour you. He groans, sliding his tongue through your folds until he is flicking the tip over your clit. His fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you spread for him. “Fuck, you taste good.” He mutters, pulling away for a moment until he dives back in, sucking on your clit.

All you can do is gasp and moan his name, fingers tangled into his hair as he sucks at you. “Clint!” Your hips buck up until he is throwing his arm over you, pinning you into place. “Oh my God. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” You beg.

He never wants to stop and he certainly won’t now. His tongue sliding lower to push into your pussy, your tangy taste hitting his senses like a truck. It already has his head reeling and he slides his free hand up to squeeze your breast, needing more of you.

You whine when he pinches your nipple, your hand covering his and encouraging him to do it again. “Oh god, I can’t- it’s so good. So good baby.” You babble as he tongue fucks you. Your hips have started grinding down subtly. “Fuck.”

Your moans and cries spur him on, his mouth ravenous as he tries to devour you with his tongue. “So good. You gonna be good and cum for me, Princess?” He rushes out as a half plea, half demand, and he slides his hand from your breast until his thick digit is pressing into your pussy.

His fingers are large, his hand is large, but the way he curls his finger up inside you has you keening his name. It feels so good, pressed deep and giving you something to clench down on while he latches back onto your clit and suckles. He pumps it deep and presses it against the spongy part of your walls, making stars burst behind your lids as you shake apart with a loud wail.

He loves how you react to his touch, clamping down on his finger and his cock twitches at the thought of how you’ll squeeze his cock. Grinding against the bed, he works you through it, pressing kisses to your clit until he shifts to kiss your thighs, alternating each one for his affection.

“Oh my god.” You pant breathless, giggling as you press your hand to your chest. “I don’t think- I’ve never cum like that.” You admit, reaching out and stroking his shoulder. “How do you want to cum?” You ask. “I need to take care of you too.”

He huffs, “I don’t have to. I’m okay.” He promises despite his cock twitching. “Baby. Lemme take care of you.” You murmur, caressing his back, and he kisses your stomach as he comes back to your mouth. “However you want me. You want me to fuck you? Make you cum on my cock?” He asks, pulling back to look you in the eye.

You look up at him, the scar on his cheek and nose making him look fierce, but his eyes are soft. You know you could tell him no and he would respect that. “Yes.” You whisper. “I want to feel you inside me.”

He nods, shifting to kneel on the bed, “I think I have some condoms here. I - shit - we were gonna use them after Nancy was born.” He confesses and fumbles for the unopened box. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have - that’s weird.” He murmurs, knowing he shouldn’t mention his wife while trying to fuck you.

You reach out and stop him, sitting up to take the box from his hand. “It’s okay.” You promise him softly. “You had a life. A wife. Here in this house.” You open the box and fish a condom from the inside to open. “You can talk about her. I won’t be mad.” You shrug slightly. “As long as you remember I’m not her.”

His heart flutters and he can’t believe you understand how he feels. He decides to focus on you and only you. He reaches for the foil packet, opening it and rolling it down his cock. He groans when he squeezes his length and shuffles closer to your core. “You sure?” He asks and you nod, caressing his arms. “I’m sure. I love you.” His eyes soften and he slowly starts to push into you. “I love you too.” He murmurs, closing his eyes as he feels your velvet walls envelope him.

His jaw is tight, neck stretched out as he hovers over you. You can tell he’s trying to contain himself. He looks gorgeous. Making you marvel that this man wants you. He wants to keep you safe and love you. Your legs slide up onto his hips, letting him sink deeper into you as you both groan at how perfect it feels. “Fuck.” You whine. “Clint….its so good.”

He nods in agreement, moaning your name as he leans down to kiss your chin. “Feel so damn good.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to yours. You moan into the kiss and his tongue slides into your mouth, wanting to devour you as he starts to move his hips.

He starts slow, your hands holding onto his shoulders as he pulls sounds of you. Drinking them down as his cock scrubs your walls and he pulls out slowly to plunge back into you. It’s wonderful, maddening and completely overwhelming. You can’t think about anything else but the way he feels, warm and heavy, surrounding you.

He surrounds you and he loves it, wanting to protect you, needing to make sure you know that he’d never hurt you, or let anyone hurt you. You’re safe now. “Baby, baby. You feel so good.” He groans, kissing your jaw, his hot breath puffing against the damp skin. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You hum softly, smiling as he rocks into you. “You’re beautiful.” You counter. “Protective, strong.” Your walls flutter around his length as you think about the lengths he went to in order to keep you and Nancy safe. “I love you.”

He groans, heart pounding at your confirmation of your feelings and he nudges his nose against yours. “I love you.” He promises, rocking into you a little harder. Clint shifts his weight to his elbow so he can grip your thigh, lifting it higher so he can push deeper inside of you.

The change in angle feels amazing, making you moan as he pushes deep again. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, your legs tightening around him. “You feel so perfect, like you were made for me.”

“I want you to cum for me.” He murmurs, “tell me what you need to get there.” He orders, wanting to make you feel good. “I ain’t gonna last, princess. You feel too damn good around me.”

You whimper at the dark tone, the urgency in his voice. You slide one hand done to your tits and pinch your nipple, walls clenching down around him. “Harder.” You beg. “Wreck me.”

He groans, loving how you beg him, and he grunts as he starts to fuck you harder. “That’s it, baby. You want it like that?” He asks, watching you pinch your nipple. His fingers dig into your thigh as he lifts your calf onto his shoulder, his nostrils flared in concentration as he fucks you harder and faster.

It’s exactly what you needed. The pace is perfect and he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your toes curl. “Yes! Yes!” You cry out, not ashamed of what you need. He groans your name again and you feel that burst of pleasure explode inside you. “Clint!” You cry out, eyes closing and your body bucking under his.

You squeeze him so tight, his vision blurs, and he pushes deep. “Fuck. Shit. I’m gonna - baby. Fuck.” He grunts, burying his cock deep inside of you, his cum spilling into the condom as the breath is knocked out of him.

You moan, stroking his back as he shudders and works himself through his pleasure. Watching him as he rides it out. Sure there might be a moment where he regrets this, it’s the first time since his wife, and you know that is a big deal. “Beautiful.” You murmur, in awe is how solid he is.

He inhales deeply, shifting to bury his face in your neck after he relaxes above you. “Fuck.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your thumping pulse. “That was - you know what I want to say.” He whispers, knowing you understand him better than he ever imagined.

“I do.” You promise, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair. “And if you need time, I understand.” You promise. Even if he wanted to send you back to your bedroom tonight, you would understand. “I’m here for you and Nancy.” You whisper. “You saved me, now it’s my turn to save you.”

“I don’t need time. I can’t - she would tell me to love you with everything I am and not feel guilty. I want you. I love you. I just - I need to not feel like - like you could disappear too. Like someone is gonna take you away from me. I wouldn’t survive another loss.” He confesses, pulling back to look at you.

“We could leave Oakland.” You suggest softly. “Move away, start somewhere new. Somewhere where you don’t have to be an enforcer.” You feel like he would want that, but you don’t know. It’s not like you’ve talked about that kind of thing before.

“I - I’d like that. Start over. Give Nancy a chance. Where would you wanna go?” He asks and you caress his cheek, “I always wanted to move to Florida.” He chuckles, “couldn’t get further away. It’s perfect. I’ll get the house figured out and then we will go. Start over somewhere new. Together.” He decides, not even hesitating. It’s his ticket to finally escaping the life he got tangled into. The life that got his wife killed. The life that will eventually destroy Nancy too. He has enough money to make it happen.

You bite your lip as he shifts off of you and you turn to curl into his side. The condom needs to be disposed of, and both of you clean up, but there is something you need to admit to first. “When we left that day.” You start softly. “Jenson lied. He had the money to pay you. To pay his debt.” You confess, looking up into Clint’s slightly confused face. “When you told me to pack, I took it.” You lick your lips. “It’s more than what he owed. But I took his money. It’s in the bag in my closet.”

“Jesus Christ. Is that why he - why he found you?” Clint asks, confused and frowning. When you nod, he swallows harshly, “baby. That’s - it’s a shit ton of money.” He caresses your arm as you lean into him. “I know. He’s gone now so it’s ours. Let’s use it for our new start?” You suggest and Clint surges forward to press his lips to yours. A new start. It sounds perfect.

****

“Nancy, sweetheart, don’t dig too deep.” Clint orders from his fold up chair. His daughter giggling as she uses her shovel to dig a hole in the sand. “She’s fine. Not like she can dig to China.” You tease and Clint snorts, “she has the determination to do it.” You giggle in agreement, squeezing his hand. Your joined hands swing between your fold up chairs, the sun shining and music playing from your portable radio. You and Clint moved not long after that night, enough funds between the two of you to not need to work again so Clint has been enjoying his time with you and Nancy. Learning to live again has been hard but he’s getting there. “I actually, uh, wanted to ask you something.” Clint confesses and you frown, turning your head to look at him. He clears his throat, “I wanna marry you. Been thinking about it for a while and yeah, I want you to be my wife.” Your eyes widen in shock for a moment until you grin, eyes watering. “And I want you to adopt Nancy, if you want. She loves you and I want everything to be official.” You grin, squeezing his hand, “yes. Yes to it all. I want that.” You promise and he smiles, leaning in to kiss the back of your hand until he shuffles closer to press a kiss to your lips. Your smile makes his heart flutter when he pulls away and he looks up at the sky for a moment, feeling acceptance and hope. He’s so glad he took that job that night, he might’ve saved you from your asshole, abusive boyfriend, but you saved him from his guilt and grief. You taught him how to love again.

[simpingforjoel]

fiercely protective yet gentle clint and his sweet baby girl stole my heart, no wonder that the reader fell in love with both of them!!! 🥹🥰❤️

[simpingforjoel]

search ‘my vibe’ + a colour you like on pinterest and pick the ones you find most aesthetic ✨

thank you for tagging me lovelies ♥️ @sawymredfox @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @almostempty @peepawmiller @inkandstardusts this was so much funn!!

npt: @missadangel @drippingyellow @maroonpascal @ess-evo @bergamote-catsandbooks @din-cognito @mountainsandmayhem @queenofslowburn @kedsandtubesocks @oogaboogasphincter @mcthsman @onlythehobi @reedispunk @skylardenae @madpanda75 @avastrasposts

[misted-oblivion]

i need him to rail me and then take me out for coffee and then take me back home and rail me again

[simpingforjoel]

mr. pike would totally take you out for a cutesy coffee date like a gentleman after jumping your bones and then ruining you all over again once you get back home

[mssalo]

after hours

Joel Miller has been yours for a month now, and while things between you are steady, Jackson’s demands have kept you too busy for his liking. Missing you fiercely, Joel decides to pick you up after a late night, only for his mood to sour when Paul monopolizes your time. What starts as a simple check-in turns into something much more when Joel finally gets you alone or well... the other way around.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Sub!Joel, Dom!fem!reader, explicit sexual content, oral (m! and f! receiving), throat fucking, Joel nearly getting rimmed (not quite yet, though - we getting there), Joel kissing your feet for a sec, jealousy (hello, Paul), office sex kinda, praise kink, Joel being a desperate, needy mess, - and soft emotional moments because I'm nice

This can be read as a standalone but officially its part two of ma'am.

7k. Enjoy!

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

The sun had long since set, casting Jackson in a blanket of cool twilight. Joel sat at the small kitchen table in his house, staring down at the unlit candle sitting in front of him.

He turned it slowly between his rough fingers, the faint scent of something warm and sweet drifting up to him- something that reminded him of you.

He’d found it earlier on patrol, tucked away in an abandoned cabin, and the moment the smell hit him, you’d been all he could think about.

The softness of it, the quiet comfort - it was you to him. He wasn’t sure why he picked it up, not at first.

Gifts weren’t exactly something he knew how to give anymore, and hell, he didn’t even know if it was too early for something like this. A month together wasn’t long, but for Joel, it felt like something impossible.

You had slipped into his life like sunlight, warm and steady, breaking through cracks he didn’t know were there. In just a month, you’d pulled him out of a place he thought he’d never leave, and it scared him sometimes - how much he cared. How much he wanted to hold onto you.

But lately, Jackson had taken up so much of your time. You still saw each other - quiet dinners, soft conversations, and kisses stolen in the fading light of day but that’s all there had been.

Between long shifts, late nights, and endless meetings, you’d been stretched thin, and Joel could see it. He didn’t resent you for it - how could he? You were the heart of this place, keeping everything and everyone steady. It was just…

He missed you.

And tonight, when the clock struck well past 11, and you still hadn’t come home, something in him stirred. Joel wasn’t the type to chase someone down, but tonight, he couldn’t just sit in the quiet house anymore.

With a deep sigh, he grabbed his jacket, stuffing the candle carefully into his pocket. The cold air bit at his skin as he stepped out onto the gravel path, boots crunching softly as he made his way toward the main building where he knew you’d still be.

As he climbed the stairs and spotted the warm light glowing from beneath your office door, he felt some of the tension ease in his chest.

You were safe. Good. But then he heard it—soft voices, yours and another man’s - Paul.

Joel paused just outside, his jaw clenching. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but something about it—about how Paul’s voice carried that too-familiar tone, how your own voice stayed calm and professional - made his teeth grind.

Paul. Joel knew exactly who he was, young, good-looking, dependable. Always where you were, always taking up your time. Joel resented him for it. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he was damn sure Paul wanted you - how could he not? Hell, Joel figured everyone did.

You were strong, beautiful, impossible to ignore.

And Joel? He still didn’t quite know how he’d gotten lucky enough to have you, and it ate at him, hearing Paul’s voice when he wanted to see and talk to you so badly himself.

His brow furrowed, and he stopped just outside the slightly ajar door.

“- appreciate the update, Paul,” you were saying, your voice calm and professional. “We’ll make adjustments to the roster tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” Paul replied, his tone polite but with a hint of familiarity that set Joel’s teeth on edge.

Joel peeked through the crack in the door and felt his chest tighten.

You were leaning partially against your desk, your posture relaxed but commanding, your sleeves pushed up to your elbows as you gestured toward a stack of papers in front of you.

The soft lamplight illuminated your face, highlighting the curve of your jaw, the way your blouse clung just right.

You looked… god, you looked so fucking good.

Too good.

Joel’s jaw worked as he stepped into the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his presence heavy and awkward.

You glanced up at him, your brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “Joel?”

He shifted on his feet, his gaze flicking between you and Paul, unsure of what to say. His fists clenched at his sides, and he suddenly felt out of place, like he was intruding.

Paul turned to look at him as well, his expression polite but curious. “Evening, Joel,” he said with a nod.

Joel gave a tight nod in return, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to think of something to say. But his gaze kept drifting back to you - your relaxed posture, the slight smirk tugging at your lips as you studied him.

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you read the situation.

“I think we can wrap up for tonight, Paul,” you said smoothly, your voice taking on a sharper edge. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow.”

Paul blinked, glancing between the two of you before nodding. “Sure. Have a good night.”

You waited until Paul had gathered his things and stepped out of the office before turning your full attention to Joel. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the desk, one brow arched as you studied him.

“Well?” you said, your tone light but teasing. “What’s on your mind, Miller?”

Joel shuffled his feet, his eyes darting to the floor. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “Just… you were workin’ late. Wanted to check on you.”

Your lips curved into a slow smile, and you pushed off the desk, stepping toward him. “And here I thought you were giving Paul the stink eye,” you teased, stopping just in front of him.

Joel’s ears burned, and his hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “Wasn’t givin’ him anythin’,” he mumbled, his gaze stubbornly avoiding yours.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, tilting your head as you watched him squirm. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Joel’s voice was quiet, thick with a mix of concern and something deeper. “You shouldn’t work so late,” he said, his dark eyes locking onto yours for just a moment before darting away again. “It ain’t good for you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Baby, I’m alright,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

But Joel’s jaw tightened, and his shoulders remained stiff. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a clear sign he was holding something back.

You stepped closer, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his scruffy cheeks. “Hey,” you murmured, leaning in until your forehead almost touched his. “I mean it. I’m okay. You can breathe, you know.”

He exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into your touch. “Just… can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice rough and low. “You do too much. Somebody’s gotta make sure you take care of yourself.”

Your smile softened, and you pressed a brief, chaste kiss to his forehead. “You’re sweet,” you said, your tone teasing but warm. “But I’ve got this, Joel. I promise.”

With that, you turned back to the desk, leaning slightly as you reached for a stack of papers you’d been organizing before Joel arrived.

Your blouse shifted as you moved, the fabric pulling taut across your back and revealing a hint of the smooth skin at your waist. You pushed up your sleeves absentmindedly, as you flipped through the papers with a focused efficiency that had Joel rooted in place.

Joel tried to focus on your words, on the way you calmly explained whatever you’d been discussing with Paul before he barged in, but his mind betrayed him.

His eyes trailed over the curve of your back, the dip of your waist, the way your pants hugged your hips. His pulse quickened, heat creeping up his neck as he imagined you sitting back on that desk, your legs spread as you guided his head between them.

Fuck.

Joel clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides as he tried to shove the thought away, but it was no use.

The image was too vivid—the taste of you, the sound of your breathy moans, the way you’d hold his hair as he worshipped you. He could practically feel the pressure of your thighs around his head, your voice low and commanding as you told him to keep going, good boy.

“Joel?”

Your voice jolted him from his spiraling thoughts, and his head snapped up. You were looking over your shoulder, one eyebrow raised, your lips tugged into a curious smirk. “You okay over there?”

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Just… thinkin’.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, turning fully to face him now.

You leaned back against the desk, crossing your arms over your chest, and Joel’s eyes—completely against his will—dropped for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. Your smirk deepened, and Joel’s ears burned.

“You sure about that?” you teased, tilting your head. “Because it seems like your thoughts might be wandering.”

“I—” Joel started, but the words caught in his throat.

He looked away, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought to regain control. But the way you leaned against the desk, your confidence radiating in every movement, was doing things to him he couldn’t stop.

You watched him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, your smirk softening into something more thoughtful.

Then, you straightened, uncrossing your arms and stepping closer. “Joel,” you said softly, your voice dropping just enough to make his heart skip. “What’s really on your mind?”

His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, your fingers brushing lightly over his forearm.

He wanted to answer, but the words tangled in his throat, his mind still clouded with the image of you, the way you’d look under him—no, above him.

You tilted your head, studying him like you could see right through him, and your lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I see,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement.

Joel’s mouth opened, then closed again. He shook his head quickly, his ears burning, but you didn’t let him squirm away this time.

You stepped even closer, your fingers trailing up to rest lightly against his chest. “Come on, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing. “You can tell me.”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting to yours, then away again. “It’s… I just—” He stopped, his hands clenching at his sides as he let out a frustrated sigh. “You make it impossible to think, y’know that?”

Your smile widened, your head tilting as you regarded him.

“Oh?” you said, your tone light but edged with something darker, something that made Joel’s stomach flip. “And what exactly are you thinking about?”

Joel hesitated, his gaze flicking to the desk behind you for just a second before he looked away again, his jaw tightening. But it was enough. Your eyes sparkled with realization, and you leaned in, your voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Thinking about me on that desk, baby?” you murmured, your lips curving into a sly smile. “Thinking about how good it’d feel to put that mouth of yours to work?”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, his pupils blown wide. “I—fuck,” he rasped, his voice breaking

Your smirk deepened, and you reached up to brush your fingers through his hair, your nails grazing his scalp. “Go on, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like velvet. “Say it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was caught mid-thought.

“I—fuck,” he rasped, voice cracking under the weight of whatever was bubbling inside him.

You smirked, tilting your head, and let your fingers glide into his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“All day, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you—‘bout gettin’ my mouth on you. Feelin’ your thighs against my face, your taste on my tongue. Can’t stop.” His voice dropped into a low growl, his breath uneven.

“Can’t even fuckin’ think straight when you’re standin’ there lookin’ like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Didn’t I take care of you this morning, sweet one?”

His jaw flexed, and he groaned softly, his eyes dropping to your lips, then trailing over your body with an intensity that made your stomach clench.

“It wasn’t enough,” he muttered, voice desperate. “It’s never enough. You ruin me, darlin’. I just… I need you.”

You leaned back against the desk, arms crossed casually over your chest, and his eyes followed the movement, locking onto the subtle shift of your body.

“Take my pants off, Joel,” you said, your voice calm but firm, like it was the simplest request in the world.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his fingers already moving before he could fully process your words.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he stepped closer. His hands were unsteady, reverent, as they found the waistband of your pants, hesitating for just a moment before undoing the button and sliding the zipper down.

The air between you crackled as he knelt in front of you, his hands gently tugging your pants down over your hips.

His lips parted, and you heard the faintest gasp as your panties came into view, a darkened spot already visible where your arousal soaked through.

“Goddamn,” Joel muttered, his voice low and wrecked, his hands gripping your thighs. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect. Don’t even know what you do to me.”

You smirked, leaning forward slightly, one hand brushing through his hair. “I know exactly what I do to you, baby,” you murmured. “That’s why you’re on your knees for me, isn’t it?”

Joel tugged the rest of your pants free, his movements quick and deliberate, pausing only to slide your shoes off and set them aside.

The moment your legs were bare, he hesitated, his eyes darting down to your feet before he leaned in suddenly, pressing his lips to the top of one foot.

The soft, warm press of his mouth sent a shiver through you, and you let out a startled laugh, tilting your head as you looked down at him. “Joel,” you said, your voice low with curiosity and amusement. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his lips traveled over the arch of your foot, slow and reverent, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick and trembling.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. Every part of you—” His tongue flicked out briefly, dragging along the delicate curve of your ankle. “—drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Your breath caught as his hands slid up to cradle your calves, his lips brushing against the arch of your other foot.

“Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft but edged with heat. “Are you a feet-guy now?”

His head snapped up, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes were dark with pure, unfiltered want.

“I’m a you guy,” he rasped, his voice rough and uneven. “I’d worship every inch of you if you let me, ma’am.”

The sincerity and desperation in his voice made heat pool low in your belly, and you smirked, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Every inch, huh?” you teased, your tone sultry. “Guess I should let you, then.”

His lips parted as he stared up at you, his chest heaving like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “Please,” he whispered, the single word dripping with need as his hands gripped your legs tighter. “Let me.”

Joel didn’t hesitate when you gave him a soft nod, your smirk still firmly in place.

His hands slid slowly down your thighs, reverent and careful, like you might vanish if he wasn’t gentle.

Joels lips parted as he lowered his head, brushing a slow, deliberate kiss against your knee before trailing lower, his breath warm and shaky against your skin.

“Go on, baby,” you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair as you tilted your head, watching him with a lazy sort of dominance. “Show me how much you mean it.”

Joel groaned softly, his hands trembling as they gripped your thighs tighter. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, the heat of his lips sending a shiver up your spine.

His nose brushed against your skin as he moved closer, inhaling deeply like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “Smell so good. Always do.”

Your smirk deepened, and you gave his hair a soft tug, guiding him closer to where you wanted him.

“You’ve got a smart mouth when it comes to saying all the right things, Joel,” you teased, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, put it to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel rasped, his voice trembling. He didn’t waste another second, his lips brushing against the damp fabric of your panties.

The first touch made him groan, the sound desperate and guttural as he pressed his face closer, his nose nudging against your clit.

You gasped softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. “That’s it, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm and encouraging. “Yeah, just like that.”

Joel’s tongue flicked out, dragging along the wet patch that had already formed against the thin fabric.

He moaned as the taste of you hit his tongue, and the vibrations of the sound sent a sharp jolt of heat through your core.

His lips latched onto you through your panties, sucking softly as his nose pressed harder against your clit, grinding into you with every movement.

“You’re such a good boy, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk. “Look at you, so desperate to please. Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day.”

He whimpered, his hands sliding up to grip your hips as he buried his face deeper against you.

“Every day,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Think about it every damn day. Wanna taste you, wanna make you feel so good.”

You smiled, the sound low and indulgent as you gave his hair another tug. “Then take them off, baby,” you whispered, your tone commanding but patient. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel’s hands shook as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, his lips brushing against your hip as he slid them down your legs.

He didn’t even bother to move them completely out of the way, his attention entirely on the sight of you bared before him. His breath hitched, and he licked his lips, his eyes dark and filled with reverence.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice wrecked.

You chuckled softly, leaning back against the desk and letting your thighs fall open a little wider.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leaned in, his lips parting to drag his tongue slowly through your folds.

The first taste always made him moan so loudly you couldn’t help but smile, and his tongue worked with desperate precision, lapping at your entrance before moving up to flick over your clit.

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed, your nails grazing against his scalp. “You’re so eager, baby. So good at this.”

He whimpered against you, his tongue pressing harder against your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking gently.

His nose brushed against you with every movement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he lost himself in you.

“Keep going, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm but firm.

Joel moaned again, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as his tongue worked faster, licking and sucking like a man possessed.

He was all-in, his desperation and devotion pouring into every movement, every sound, every shuddering breath.

Joel pulled back briefly, his face slick with your arousal, his breaths heavy and uneven. His thick fingers slid up your inner thighs, his touch featherlight, reverent, like he was handling something holy.

He reached your folds, his large fingers spreading your pussy lips apart, exposing your swollen, glistening clit to his dark, hungry gaze.

“Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice low and trembling as he stared.

His fingers gently held you open, and for a moment, all he could do was look - memorizing the way you glistened, the way your cunt clenched with anticipation.

His mouth opened slightly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he bit down softly on the plush skin of your inner thigh, making you jolt.

“Joel,” you warned, your voice thick with arousal. “Don’t just look.”

Slowly, he leaned in to take your throbbing clit into his mouth again. - But then, under his breath, he grumbled,"Bet that asshole Paul ain't ever seen somethin' this fuckin' pretty."

Your brows furrowed immediately, the heat between you both briefly eclipsed by confusion. "Paul?" you snapped, your grip tightening in his hair, pulling his head back roughly.

Joel winced but didn't dare meet your eyes, his cheeks flushed as his lips glistened from where he'd already tasted you.

"You're jealous?" you demanded, a mix of amusement and annoyance in your tone, though there was something undeniably sultry in the way you said it.

Joel stammered, shaking his head, though his guilty expression betrayed him. "I just- he don't deserve to be 'round you like that."

You blinked, momentarily surprised by his audacity.

Then, something wicked curled in your chest, and your smirk returned as you leaned forward, your fingers threading into his hair to tug him to his feet.

Joel stumbled up, flustered, his face red as you pushed him back against the table with a force that knocked the breath out of him.

"You're jealous of Paul," you said again, quieter now, voice dripping with mock disdain as you stepped closer, your hips brushing against his.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the table for balance as you caged him in, your body pressing against his like he had nowhere to go.

His lips parting to reply, but no sound came out. His eyes darted to yours, wide and needy as you leaned in close, your lips ghosting over his ear.

"Would I touch Paul like this, Joel?" you murmured, your voice low and teasing as your hand slid down to press against the thick bulge straining in his pants.

Joel let out a strangled whimper, his hips jerking forward instinctively at the contact.

"Answer me," you commanded softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his cock through the fabric, applying just enough pressure to make him groan. "Would he be this hard for me?"

"Fuck-no," Joel choked out, his voice wrecked and trembling. His knuckles turned white where he gripped the table, his whole body tense beneath your touch. "Ain't no one else gets this. Just me. Please - always me, ma'am."

"That's what I thought," you whispered, a smug smile curving your lips as you slowly unbuttoned his pants.

Joel's chest rose and fell in sharp, shaky breaths as he watched your every move, his gaze dark and glassy with need.

"You think Paul could ever handle me the way you do?" you continued, teasing the waistband of his boxers now, your fingers brushing the bare skin of his hips. "Think he'd know how to please me like you do, baby?"

Joel shook his head desperately, his voice barely a whisper as he rasped, "No, ma'am.Never."

"Good boy," you purred, leaning back just enough to look him in the eye.

Joel's hips bucked forward slightly, his cock throbbing beneath your touch, but you stilled him with a firm press of your hand.

"You really think l'd let anyone else have me like this?" you murmured, your tone low and commanding. "You think I'd let anyone but you eat my cunt in this office?"

Joel whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he let out a shaky, broken sound that shot straight to your core.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely. "Please— don't stop."

You smirked, leaning down to press your lips to the corner of his jaw, letting your teeth graze his skin. "You want me to prove it to you, hm, baby?"

Joel nodded frantically, his head falling back as his entire body trembled beneath you.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice raw and needy.

"Please... Show me l'm yours. I'll do anything, ma'am. Anything."

And with that, you sank back down to your knees in front of him, dragging his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, leaving him bare and vulnerable as you stared up at him, the wicked gleam in your eyes making Joel's cock throb painfully in anticipation.

"Alright, handsome," you whispered darkly, your lips brushing over the sensitive tip of him as Joel let out a desperate groan, his hips jerking forward.

"Be a good boy, and I'll make you feel like the only man in the world."

Joel's head tipped back, his hands scrambling for purchase on the edge of the table as your mouth closed around him, and the only word he could manage was a broken, worshipful, "Fuck."

You kissed along the thick length of his cock, slow and deliberate, dragging your tongue in a wet line up the underside until you reached the sensitive tip.

Joel’s body tensed, and a deep, broken groan tore from his throat as his hips jerked forward, chasing your touch.

“Ma‘am,” he choked out, his voice rough, his knuckles white where he gripped the desk behind him. His chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths, eyes blown wide with need as they met yours.

You smirked wickedly, your lips brushing over his flushed, aching head. “Yeah, baby?” you teased, your voice dripping with dark amusement as you kissed him softly, deliberately avoiding where he wanted you most.

“Looks like you’ve been neglected.” You licked up the shaft again, savoring the way he whimpered, the sound breaking into a low, strangled growl. “But that’s on me, huh? I’ve been so busy…”

Joel’s head tipped back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You’re—fuck, you’re what Jackson needs,” he stammered, his voice wrecked and almost pleading. “S’okay. I get it. You—you’re keepin’ us safe.”

His hands shook as he forced himself to look back at you, his eyes glassy with desperation.

“Oh, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk as you nipped lightly at the sensitive skin, making him jolt with a sharp inhale.

“Jackson might need me—but I got someone else at home who needs me now too, hm?” You shot him a pointed look, your tongue flicking out to swirl around the tip as Joel let out a wrecked noise that made you clench around nothing.

His breath stuttered, his entire body trembling beneath your touch. “Me,” he rasped, his voice cracking into a whimper, the word soft and desperate as it fell from his lips.

You hummed, lips curling as you dragged your tongue along the sensitive ridge beneath his head before wrapping your mouth around him completely, taking him slow and deep until the tip nudged the back of your throat.

Joel let out a loud, guttural groan, his hips jerking involuntarily as he felt the wet heat of your mouth envelop him completely.

You pulled back just enough to let him slip free, a trail of spit and pre-cum stretching between your lips and his swollen, aching cock.

It twitched violently in the cool air, slick and flushed dark at the tip, thick veins standing out along his length as it oozed a steady bead of milky pre-cum.

Your eyes trailed over it with a wicked glint, drinking in the sight of him—so messy, so utterly ruined—and your lips curled into a slow, smug smile as you lazily pumped him with your slick hand.

The noise it made was filthy, each movement a slow, deliberate glide of your palm over his slicked skin. “Look at you, Joel. You’re already such a mess for me.”

You dragged your thumb over his leaking slit, smearing the pre-cum down the length of him, and his hips bucked sharply, a strangled groan tearing from his throat.

“Christ,” he choked, his head falling back, his jaw slack as his chest heaved. “Darlin’, please - please, I- ”

“Please what?” you teased, your tone light and mocking as you leaned back in, your lips brushing over the tip again, barely there.

Joel’s whole body jolted, and he whimpered—so loudly—as your tongue darted out to swirl around him, gathering the salty slick that had gathered there.

“Wanna fuck my throat, baby?” you murmured darkly, your gaze locked on his as your lips curled into a slow smile.

“Is that what you’re so desperate for? Hm? That big cock of yours buried all the way in, feelin’ me tight around you?”

Joel let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a plea, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice raw and wrecked. “God, yes, darlin’. I—fuck—please.”

“Then go ahead,” you purred, your hand stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. “Go on, Joel. Take it.”

He froze for half a second, as if the permission short-circuited his brain, before he stepped closer, his hands finally leaving the desk to cradle your jaw.

You let your mouth fall open, your tongue teasing his tip as he slid in, slow and careful, testing the waters. Your eyes stayed locked on his, and you hummed approvingly, encouraging him to move deeper.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you murmured between breaths, your voice thick with sin. “I can take it.”

Joel groaned, deep and guttural, as he pushed further, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You swallowed around him, and the sound that ripped from his chest was wrecked, his hips twitching as he fought not to lose control.

Slowly, he rocked forward, fucking into your mouth with careful, shallow thrusts, each movement slick and filthy with spit and pre-cum. You could feel him throbbing, could hear the desperate, broken noises spilling from him every time he hit just right.

“Jesus,” Joel gritted out, his voice low and wrecked as his fingers threaded into your hair, guiding you gently. “Feels so fuckin’ good, ma“am. So fuckin’ perfect—goddamn.”

You let him thrust just a little deeper, taking him until your nose pressed against the dark curls at the base of his cock.

Your throat flexed around him, swallowing him whole, and the growl that tore from his chest was loud and shattered, his control slipping further.

He pulled back, your spit trailing in thick, messy strings along his length, and you let out a satisfied hum as you pulled away completely, your lips wet and slick with him.

But you weren’t done.

Your hands slid up his thighs as you leaned lower, pressing your lips to his balls. Joel’s hips jolted sharply, his legs trembling beneath him as you kissed him softly, your tongue flicking out to trace the sensitive skin.

You smirked against him, releasing him with a wet pop before flattening your tongue and dragging it slowly, teasingly, down the sensitive skin just beneath his balls.

Joel’s whole body jerked, his knees threatening to give out as he let out a choked, desperate shout, his fingers tightening painfully in your hair.

“Yes,” he gasped, the word breaking as it tumbled out of him. “Yes, fuck, yes!” His voice cracked, hoarse and wrecked, as you continued your slow, deliberate path, your tongue barely grazing where he was most sensitive.

The filthy noises spilling from him grew louder, more frantic, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you pushed him further and further over the edge.

“Like that, baby?” you purred, pulling back just enough to whisper against the trembling skin. “Want me to lick even lower, huh? Is that what you want?”

Joel let out something between a sob and a growl, his head snapping back as his mouth fell open, panting for air like a man starved.

His body shook violently, and before he could even get the words out, his release hit - a sharp, shuddering jolt that tore through him like lightning.

“Fuck- oh, ma‘am- fuck!” Joel roared, his hips surging forward as his cock throbbed and pulsed, spurting hot, thick ropes of cum across your face and blouse, the first one hitting so hard you moaned softly at the sheer force of it.

His voice echoed off the walls, a deep, primal sound that he didn’t try to be quiet - didn’t care who heard.

“Shit- oh, darlin’ - fuck, I- ” Joel was lost to it, wrecked and trembling, his hands shaking in your hair as his cock twitched again, more of his release spilling onto your tongue and chin.

You caught as much of it as you could, sucking softly at the head of him as he moaned, loud and shattered, the tension in his body finally breaking.

“Such a good boy for me, Joel,” you murmured softly, your voice thick with satisfaction as you swirled your tongue lazily over his still-pulsing tip, gathering the last drops of him.

His cock was slick and messy now, glistening with cum and your spit, and the sight of him—ruined and trembling, his thighs shaking so hard he could barely stand—made you smirk with pure satisfaction.

Joel’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stared down at you, his face flushed and wrecked, his chest heaving like he’d run for miles.

“Jesus,” he rasped, his voice barely there, as if the words were dragged out of him.

You licked at your lips, smearing a streak of his release off your cheek with your thumb before sliding it into your mouth, sucking softly as you held his gaze.

Joel’s body jerked at the sight, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull you up or drop to his knees.

“Made such a mess, baby,” you teased softly, reaching up to stroke his still-twitching cock, your hand gliding easily over the slick mess coating him.

Joel groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips gave an involuntary jerk at your touch.

“Didn’t even care who heard you, huh?”

Joel let out a low, wrecked sound, his face buried in his arm as he leaned heavily against the desk for support. “Don’t fuckin’ care,” he muttered, his voice muffled and rough. “Let ‘em hear. Let ‘em all know I’m yours.”

You smirked, rising slowly to your feet, your body grazing his as you straightened. Joel’s hands found your waist immediately, his grip still shaky, like he needed to hold on to you or risk collapsing completely.

You leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, low and sweet, “That’s right, baby. You’re mine.”

Joel groaned softly, his head tilting back to meet your gaze, those dark eyes still heavy-lidded, glassy with the remnants of his release.

There was something else there too - something softer, flickering in the depths as he stared at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Always yours,” he rasped, his voice still wrecked but thick with something deeper. “No one else, darlin’. Just you.”

Your smirk softened, your fingers sliding up to trace along the stubble of his jaw before you cupped his face gently in your hands. “Yeah?” you murmured.

Joel’s breath hitched as you tilted your head and kissed him—softly, slowly—your lips molding to his in a kiss that stripped away the desperation and left nothing but warmth.

He sighed into it, his arms wrapping fully around you now, pulling you in close until you were flush against him.

You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, “I’m yours too. Always.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his hands tightening on your waist as his thumb traced slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Okay, baby? No need to give Paul the stinky eye,” you teased softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

Joel’s brows knit together, his face shifting into something defensive but playful as he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“I wasn’t givin’ him the stinky eye,” he grumbled, though the way his jaw twitched betrayed him.

You snorted, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up. “Joel,” you teased, your grin spreading wide.

Joel’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through, and he huffed softly, shaking his head. “You’re seein’ things, darlin’,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind his words.

You laughed harder, leaning your forehead against his as his low, rough chuckle finally broke free, rumbling deep in his chest.

The sound sent warmth flooding through you, and before you could say another word, his lips found yours again.

This kiss was softer now—easy, lingering, the kind of kiss that said I’m here, and you’re mine.

Joel’s hands slid up your sides, cradling you close as you melted into him, the laughter fading into something softer, something sweeter.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, you brushed your nose against his. “You were totally giving him the stinky eye,” you murmured, grinning.

Joel chuckled again, shaking his head as he pressed another kiss to your lips—soft, deliberate, and warm. “Maybe,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice low and fond. “Maybe I was.”

Smiling, you brushed your fingers along his jaw, your touch gentle, grounding. “You’re the sexiest and most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on,” you murmured softly, the sincerity in your voice leaving no room for doubt.

Joel froze for just a moment, his brow furrowing slightly like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. Then, his face softened, his cheeks coloring just a little as his lips curved into a lopsided smile.

“You really think that?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, almost uncertain, as though he didn’t quite believe it.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “No, Joel. I know that. Don’t go gettin’ all humble on me now.”

Your fingers tangled gently in his hair, your voice a whisper. “No one else could hold a candle to you, Joel Miller. You’ve got no reason to be jealous of anyone.”

He huffed out a small laugh, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer, like he needed to feel you against him to believe it.

After a minute - you stepped back. “C’mon, handsome,” you teased, your voice soft but playful, “let’s get home, yeah?” You winked at him, your grin infectious.

Joel huffed a soft laugh, his hands still resting on your hips. “Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, proud smile. “I got somethin’ for you at home. A little somethin’ I found today.”

Your eyes lit up, curiosity sparking as you tugged his hand gently. “Ooh, a present? You’re spoilin’ me, Miller,” you teased, grinning wide.

Joel chuckled, ears red, shaking his head as he let you pull him along.

· · ──𖥸

“A candle?” you breathed, your eyes widening as you turned it over in your hands, the label simple but faintly worn.

The smell of something warm and sweet reached your nose, and you blinked up at Joel, completely caught off guard.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the floor as a faint pink crept across his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, a little awkwardly, his voice low. “Found it while we were out on patrol. Smell reminded me of you… I don’t know, somethin’ soft and warm—real nice. Figured maybe you’d… like it.”

He shifted slightly, his hands fidgeting against his jeans as he added quickly, “I mean, it’s nothin’ fancy. If it’s too much or too soon—”

“Joel,” you interrupted softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you brought the candle closer, inhaling the faint, soothing scent.

Something in your chest tightened, an unexpected warmth spreading through you that made your throat feel thick. It had been so long—years, really—since anyone had given you something just because they thought of you.

Joel paused mid-ramble, his eyes snapping up to meet yours, worry lingering in his expression.

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward and kissed him—soft, sweet, and lingering.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky, tears threatening to spill as you smiled up at him. “Thank you so much, Joel. You don’t… you don’t know what this means to me.”

Joel’s brows softened, his hands reaching out to cup your face gently, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, “you’re welcome, darlin’. I just… I wanted you to have somethin’ nice. Somethin’ that’s yours.”

You smiled, blinking through the tears as you leaned into his touch.

“No one’s given me a gift since I was seventeen,” you admitted softly, a hint of laughter in your voice as you tried to play it off, but Joel’s expression only grew more tender.

“Well, I’m makin’ up for lost time, then,” he said, his voice steady, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You let out a soft laugh, pressing your forehead against his, your hand still clutching the candle like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re somethin’ else, Joel Miller,” you whispered, your voice fond and thick with emotion.

Joel chuckled softly, his fingers brushing through your hair. “Yeah, well… you’re worth it.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

[simpingforjoel]

completely wrecked sub!joel getting unraveled into a desperate mess by his ma’am and begging made me melt!! 🫠🥵❤️‍🔥

[mssalo]

ma'am

Joel Miller’s spent a lifetime in control, but under your confident lead, he’s discovered just how good it feels to let go. As your right-hand man in Jackson, he’s desperate to please, finding himself worshiping you in ways he’s never dared before—and loving every filthy second of it.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, sub!Joel, dom!f!reader, oral (male and female receiving), nipple play (SUCKING JOEL’S NIPPLES like he deserves), premature ejaculation, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, desperation kink, Joel whimpering, explicit sexual content, mutual devotion, protective partnership, reader is emotionally supportive but firm, Joel finds comfort in being cared for (he’s babygirl) and Joel being so far gone it’s frankly adorable.

11k. enjoy.

part two: after hours

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel Miller had always been the guy people turned to when things needed fixing—whether it was a busted fence, a tough decision, or clearing out a horde of infected, he was the dependable one. The solid one. The man who got things done without flinching.

But with you, it was different.

You weren’t like anyone else in Jackson. You’d arrived last winter, stepping into the town’s bustling life like you’d always belonged, and somehow, you’d made it your own. 

People respected you—trusted you—not because you demanded it, but because you commanded it. You were sharp, resourceful, and unshakably confident. 

Joel couldn’t decide if you reminded him of a soldier or a queen, but either way, it made his chest tighten every time you spoke.

It started innocently enough.

“Joel, we need these supplies moved to the north gate before sundown,” you said one day, standing by the depot, that calm, no-nonsense tone that made Joel’s stomach flip.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied without thinking, the words slipping out as easily as breathing.

You’d looked up, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. “Didn’t peg you for the ‘yes ma’am’ type,” you teased lightly, your lips curving into that small, knowing smile.

Joel had flushed, shifting on his feet like a boy caught stealing. “Guess it’s just… habit.”

You didn’t push, just nodded and turned back, but Joel couldn’t get the moment out of his head.

Something about the way you spoke to him—firm but never condescending, confident but never overbearing—lit something inside him he hadn’t felt in years. 

Respect, maybe. Or something deeper, darker, and far more dangerous.

The more months you worked together, the worse it got for him.

“Joel, grab the shotgun and cover me,” you ordered one day, crouched behind a rusted-out truck as infected skittered through the woods ahead. Your voice was steady, even in the heat of the moment, and Joel’s chest swelled as he followed your lead without question.

Another time, while patrolling the perimeter, you had said, “Check the west side at dusk. Let me know if anything’s out of place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel had answered automatically, his voice softer, almost reverent.

You didn’t always notice how easily he fell into step with you, how much he craved the way you trusted him to follow through. 

But Joel noticed. Every damn time. 

And it wasn’t just respect—though that was there too—it was something raw and magnetic. Something that made his chest tighten and his cock stir in ways that left him fumbling for composure.

It wasn’t just the way you spoke. It was the way you carried yourself. The way you moved through the world with confidence that was effortless, never forced. 

You weren’t trying to prove anything to anyone—you just were. You called the shots when they needed calling, and people listened, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.

Joel wanted to. And more than that, he liked it.

One night, it all came to a head.

Jackson was quiet, the streets bathed in the soft glow of lanterns strung between buildings. Joel was walking back from the stables when he spotted you on the porch of the town hall, a map spread across the railing in front of you. 

The way the light hit your face, catching on your jawline and softening your features, made his chest ache.

“Joel,” you called, your voice slicing through the stillness like a blade.

He froze for half a second before making his way over, his boots crunching softly on the gravel. 

His pulse quickened as he got closer, his eyes darting over you—your loose hair falling over one shoulder, the curve of your wrist as you held the edge of the map, the faint furrow in your brow that he desperately wanted to smooth away.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glanced up, your eyes meeting his. “Come take a look at this,” you said, motioning him closer.

Joel stepped up beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he looked at the map.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, and Joel had to force himself to focus on what you were pointing at—a marked spot near the riverbank.

“Been seeing signs of movement out here the past couple nights,” you explained. “Could be nothing, but I want to clear it tomorrow. Need someone to back me up. You in?”

“Always,” Joel said immediately, his voice quieter than he intended but no less firm. His fingers brushed yours as he took the map, and he swore he felt a spark.

You smiled then—just a small curve of your lips—but it sent heat rushing through Joel’s chest. “Good. Be ready at dawn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel murmured before he could stop himself.

Your brows lifted slightly, amusement flickering in your expression. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know.”

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks warming. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his gaze sliding to the ground. “Suits you.”

Your smile widened just enough to make his heart stumble. “If you say so.”

With that, you folded the map, tucked it under your arm, and disappeared into the town hall, leaving Joel standing there like a damn fool, his chest tight and his jeans uncomfortably snug. 

He swore under his breath, adjusting his stance in a futile attempt to ease the ache building low in his belly.

It wasn’t fair. 

The way you got under his skin without even trying. The way you made him feel… lighter and heavier all at once. 

Joel had spent his whole life being the one people leaned on, the one who carried the weight, and for once, he didn’t mind letting someone else take the reins. 

Hell, he wanted to. 

He wanted to follow you, to listen to you, to give you every ounce of control you asked for.

Joel stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door of the town hall long after you’d gone inside. 

His pulse pounded in his ears, the ache in his jeans growing unbearable as his mind replayed the last few moments—the way your voice curled around his name, the subtle command in your tone when you told him to be ready, the approving smile that lingered on your lips when he’d answered.

It was ridiculous, he thought bitterly, rubbing the back of his neck. He was a grown man, for Christ’s sake, and yet here he was, rock-hard in the middle of Jackson like some lovesick idiot. 

His cock throbbed against the tight denim of his jeans, a constant, humiliating reminder of how badly he wanted you—how badly he needed you.

Joel swallowed hard, adjusting himself as subtly as he could manage, though the motion sent a shiver of frustration through him. 

This was nothing new. 

Every time he was around you, it was like his body betrayed him, reacting to the sound of your voice, the sway of your hips, the smallest flick of your wrist as you gestured for him to follow.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it—about you.

The way you carried yourself, confident and composed, made his chest tighten in ways that were equal parts admiration and raw, aching need.

You were everything Joel wasn’t. Steady. Collected. In control. And fuck if he didn’t crave that about you.

More than anything, he craved the way you made him feel. Like he could just… let go.

The thought sent a fresh jolt of arousal straight to his cock, and Joel bit back a groan, his hand clenching at his side. 

He’d spent years—decades—being the man people turned to, the one who handled the tough shit without complaint.

But with you? He didn’t want to be the guy in charge. 

He wanted to be the one following orders, wanted to be the one looking up at you, waiting for your approval. 

He wanted to make you proud. 

To hear you say his name the way you had earlier, with that faint hint of amusement, like you saw something in him that no one else ever had.

Goddamn it, he was pathetic.

Joel shook his head, muttering a low curse under his breath as he turned away from the town hall. 

The walk back to his house felt like a blur, his thoughts too tangled to focus on anything but you. 

Every step sent a dull throb through his cock, and by the time he reached his front door, his hands were trembling, his jaw tight with restraint.

Inside, Joel leaned heavily against the door, the cool wood pressing into his back as he exhaled shakily. His chest rose and fell in uneven waves, the pounding of his heart loud in the stillness of the house. 

The faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots reminded him he wasn’t dreaming, though he almost wished he were—wished the memory of you wasn’t so vivid it set his whole body on fire.

His jacket slid from his shoulders and hung limply on the hook by the door, but the ritual did little to calm him. 

His hand lingered against the fabric, fingers gripping tightly for a moment as though holding on to it might anchor him. But there was no escape—not from the way you lingered in his thoughts, the way your voice echoed in his ears like a melody he couldn’t shake.

C’mere, Joel. I need you to check this.

C’mere, Joel….

The words played on repeat, the confidence in your tone, the subtle curve of authority behind every syllable. 

The way you’d glanced at him tonight, your eyes catching his for just a second longer than necessary—it was enough to drive him insane. 

Joel groaned softly, the sound rough and guttural as he pressed the heel of his palm against the stiff, aching bulge in his jeans.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as if that might clear it. But it didn’t. It never did. He’d thought about you like this too many times to count. 

Late at night, alone in the dark, his fist slick and tight around his cock, imagining you leaning over him, your voice a breathy, commanding whisper.

“Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

It was the praise that undid him every time, the approval he ached for, that soft edge of control in your voice that made his chest tighten and his hips buck into his hand. 

Joel’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as he pushed off the door, his steps hurried and uneven as he made his way toward the bedroom. 

His body was hot, his skin flushed as he kicked the door shut behind him and leaned against it, his breath coming fast and shallow.

He didn’t bother with the lights. There was no point when the image of you burned so brightly in his mind.

His hands fumbled with his belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp hiss before he shoved his jeans down his thighs, kicking them aside. 

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

Joel wrapped his calloused fingers around himself, his rough palm dragging slowly along the length as his head tipped back against the door. 

A soft, broken groan escaped his lips, and he tightened his grip, savoring the sharp sensation.

“Yes,” Joel whispered hoarsely, his hips jerking into his hand as the thought took hold.

The image was so vivid it made his knees weak.

“On your knees, Joel. Let me see how much you want it.”

He imagined you standing over him, your hands on your hips, your lips curved into that wicked, knowing smile.

You’d look down at him like you owned him, and Joel would crumble beneath that gaze, his body desperate to obey.

His hand moved faster, his strokes rougher as his chest heaved. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick and broken. “I’d do it. Anything you want, darlin’. Just… just fuckin’ tell me.”

And then, there was the fantasy he couldn’t shake. You’d guide him down—your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him hiss as you tilted his face up toward yours.

“You want to make me feel good, baby? Show me.” You’d press his face between your thighs, your warmth surrounding him, and Joel would lose himself.

He could almost feel it—the softness of your skin, the slick heat of your cunt against his lips. His tongue would trace slow, deliberate circles around your clit, savoring the way your body trembled beneath his mouth. 

You’d moan his name, your voice breathy and broken, and it would be the only thing he cared about.

Joel groaned loudly, his hips jerking off the door as his hand tightened, the slick sound filling the room. “Please,” he rasped, his voice shaking. “Please, darlin’. Let me be good for you. Let me—”

He imagined you grinding against his face, your thighs clenching around his head as you guided him, demanding more. “That’s it, Joel. Just like that. Don’t stop until I come, baby.”

The thought of your approval, of hearing you call him a good boy as he worked tirelessly to please you, made his cock throb painfully in his hand. “I’d do it,” he muttered hoarsely. “I’d fuckin’ worship you, darlin’. Just say the word.”

The tension snapped, his body locking up as his release hit. Hot, thick spurts spilled over his hand, his voice breaking into a low, guttural groan as his hips jerked helplessly. 

Your name fell from his lips, raw and reverent, as the pleasure coursed through him, leaving him trembling and spent.

For a long moment, Joel stood there, his chest heaving, his hand still wrapped loosely around his softening cock. 

The air was thick with the scent of his arousal, the evidence of his need dripping onto the floor, and yet all he could think about was you. Your voice, your smile, the way you made him feel like he could let go of everything and just… be.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he finally pushed off the door and reached for a towel. 

He cleaned himself up quickly, his thoughts still tangled, his body still thrumming with the remnants of his release. But even as the tension faded, the ache lingered—the desperate, aching need for you.

For your voice. For your touch. For your approval.

And Joel knew he’d never stop wanting it. Never stop wanting you.

Because this wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Not until he had you.

Not until he could hear you say his name the way he’d always dreamed, soft and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders as you told him exactly what to do.

· · ───

The sun was barely cresting the horizon as you and Joel set out toward the riverbank, the chilly morning air biting at your cheeks. Joel kept a steady pace beside you, his rifle slung across his shoulder, his eyes scanning the dense treeline with practiced precision.

Despite the tension that always came with patrols, there was a comfort in your presence—a grounding force that he couldn’t quite put into words.

The faint scent of soap and leather lingered on you, familiar and steady, and Joel found himself stealing glances at you more than he should.

You walked with such assuredness, each step purposeful, and the soft sway of your hips had him swallowing harder than necessary.

He tried to focus, but your commanding presence made it impossible not to feel both overwhelmed and grounded.

“See this?” you murmured, crouching near a patch of disturbed dirt. Your voice was low, clipped, yet patient as you gestured for him to come closer. “Looks like someone’s been through here recently. More than one.”

Joel crouched beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he examined the ground.

The way your hair caught the morning light, the subtle curve of your neck—it was too much. His chest tightened as he forced his gaze to the dirt and away from the way your lips parted slightly in concentration.

“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rougher than intended. “Could be raiders.”

“Could be,” you agreed, straightening and adjusting the strap of your pack. “Let’s keep moving. Stay sharp.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel said before he could stop himself, the words slipping out instinctively.

You glanced at him, one brow arching, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at your lips.

You turned without a word, leading the way through the uneven terrain. Joel followed close behind, his pulse quickening with every step. 

You always had this effect on him, like you were a magnet and he couldn’t help but be pulled in.

The ambush came fast. 

Raiders poured from the treeline, their weapons raised, shouts breaking the morning quiet. 

Joel moved on instinct, diving behind a fallen log and returning fire, but it was you who commanded the chaos with sharp, decisive orders.

“Joel! Left flank! Cover me!”

He obeyed without question, his rifle steady as he took down one of the raiders attempting to circle around. 

Even in the heat of the moment, his eyes kept darting to you—how you moved like a ghost through the underbrush, your aim deadly, your composure unshaken.

But when one of them charged at your blind spot, Joel didn’t think. He moved.

The gunshot echoed like thunder as he dropped the man with a single shot. 

You spun to face him, your eyes wide—not with fear but with something else. Relief? Gratitude? Whatever it was, it made his chest swell.

“Thanks,” you said, your tone steady despite the chaos. “But I told you—stay back.”

Joel gritted his teeth but nodded, ducking back behind cover as you finished off the last of the raiders. 

When the dust settled, you stood amidst the wreckage, your rifle slung over your shoulder, your expression calm but sharp. 

You scanned the area one last time before nodding.

“We’re clear,” you said, turning toward him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Joel replied, though his arm burned where a bullet had grazed him. 

He shifted, trying to hide the blood seeping through his sleeve.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re hit.”

“It’s nothin’,” he muttered, brushing it off.

“It’s not nothing,” you snapped, stepping closer. Your hand grabbed his arm, firm but not harsh. “We’re done here. You’re going back to Jackson. Now.”

Joel stiffened, his jaw tightening. “I can keep goin’. I’m fine.”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips pulling into a wry, almost dangerous smile. 

“Joel,” you said, your voice low but laced with authority that sent a shiver down his spine. “Do I look like I’m asking?”

Joel swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his voice quieter this time, almost reverent.

“Good.” Your fingers lingered on his arm for just a second longer than necessary, the heat of your touch branding him, before you turned toward the horses. “Let’s move.”

At the clinic, Joel sat on the cot, his shirt discarded, the gash on his arm raw and angry. He winced as the doctor worked, stitching the wound with quick precision. 

But his eyes weren’t on the needle or the thread—they were on you, leaning against the doorway with your arms crossed, your expression unreadable.

“You’ll need to rest for at least a couple days,” the doctor said, tying off the final stitch. “No patrols, no heavy lifting.”

Joel opened his mouth to argue, but your sharp glance silenced him immediately.

“Got it,” you said curtly, nodding at the doctor. “Thank you.”

When the doctor left, you turned to Joel, your arms dropping to your sides as you stepped closer. “Let’s get you home.”

Back at his house, you guided him inside, your hand on his arm, your touch firm and steady. 

Joel sank onto the couch with a groan, his body heavier than he wanted to admit. You moved with purpose, disappearing into the kitchen before reappearing with a damp cloth and a glass of water.

“You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a look that had him snapping his mouth shut.

“Let me,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

You knelt beside him, pressing the cloth gently to his arm. Joel swallowed hard, his breath catching at the sight of you so close, your fingers brushing against his skin.

The faint scent of you—clean and sharp, with a hint of something sweet—filled his senses, and he had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out.

When you finished, you sat back on your heels, your eyes meeting his. “Joel,” you said softly, “why do you push yourself so hard?”

Joel looked away, his jaw tightening. “Don’t wanna feel useless,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna… be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” you said firmly, leaning closer, your voice carrying a weight that made Joel’s chest ache. “You’re the furthest thing from it.”

Joel’s eyes flicked to yours, his breath catching at the intensity in your gaze. “I just…” He hesitated, his voice breaking. “I just wanna be good for you. Wanna make you proud.”

You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips.

“You already are, Joel,” you murmured, reaching out to cup his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone, and Joel leaned into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Joel’s breath was uneven, his good hand curling into a fist on his thigh as he struggled to find the words.

You sat beside him on the couch, quiet and steady, your eyes on his face, your expression calm yet unreadable. It only made him more frantic.

“I—I can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” Joel stammered, his voice rough and breaking. 

He rubbed a hand over his face, his palm trembling slightly as if he was trying to physically hold himself together.

“I need… I need you close. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’, but I—I can’t keep this to myself anymore.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t speak. You just nodded slowly, your gaze unwavering, and it made him feel both exposed and comforted all at once. The tension in his chest was unbearable.

“I—dammit,” he muttered, his voice thick, his gaze darting everywhere but your face.

“I’m tryin’ to say it right, but I don’t—I can’t—I need you, alright? I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. About how you—how you’re always so damn steady, and you—”

He sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes finally locking on yours. They were glassy now, his vulnerability laid bare. “You make it easier, y’know? Just bein’ around you… I feel like I can breathe. Like maybe I ain’t so—so broken after all. And I… I need that. I need you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into the faintest smile. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t pitying. It was understanding, warm, and Joel swore it made his chest ache even more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, the endearment sending a shiver down his spine. “You like me…romantically?”

Joel froze for a moment, his breath catching as your words settled over him. His lips parted, but all he could do was nod, the movement small and jerky, like he was afraid to admit it outright.

“Want to be good for me?” you asked, your voice a low, soothing hum.

Joel’s nod came faster this time, his breathing growing heavier as he leaned into you, desperate for something he couldn’t quite name.

You leaned in slowly, cupping his face with one hand, your thumb brushing over the rough stubble along his jaw. 

Joel’s eyes fluttered shut as you pressed your lips to his, soft and lingering, and the low, guttural sound he made against your mouth was filled with need. 

His hand reached out, gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to you, and his lips parted under yours, seeking more.

But just as he leaned into the kiss, you pulled back, your face still close enough that your breath mingled with his.

“Get better for me first, yeah?” you murmured, your thumb trailing along his jaw.

Joel’s eyes snapped open, his brows furrowing as he shook his head. “No, please,” he whispered, his voice rough and desperate. 

“Please, I can’t—I’ve been waitin’ for so long. Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

You shushed him softly, your fingers sliding through his hair, and Joel practically melted under your touch, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself back.

“You’ll wait,” you said firmly, though your tone was still warm. “Because you’re mine, and I’m not about to let you go. But first, I need you strong, Joel. Need you rested. Yeah?”

Joel let out a shaky breath, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he nodded, though his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Alright,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “Alright. But just… just promise me you’ll be safe.”

“Well…you know me, baby,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the crown of his head.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as if to prove to himself that you were real. And as the weight of the moment settled between you, he felt something he hadn’t in years—peace.

· · ───

Joel had never been good at resting, but being sidelined for days was pure torture.

His arm still kinda ached where the stitches pulled at the edges of the wound, but the pain was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety that came from not seeing you. 

Three days felt like a lifetime, and every hour that passed without you made his chest feel tighter.

You’d been on patrol since the crack of dawn, and Joel had spent most of the day pacing around his house, every creak of the floorboards setting his nerves on edge. 

He hadn’t wanted to push his luck with the doctor or you, so he’d stayed home, but the absence of your presence was like a physical ache.

He’d heard the patrol schedule—you were checking the area near the riverbank, where the raiders had been sighted. 

The thought of you out there, alone or with someone who wasn’t him, made his stomach churn.

Joel knew you could handle yourself—he’d seen it firsthand—but the idea of you in danger without him there to back you up was unbearable.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Joel couldn’t take it anymore. 

His boots thudded against the wooden floors as he grabbed his jacket and rifle, the pain in his arm be damned.

If he didn’t see you soon, he was going to lose his mind.

The gates of Jackson were quiet, the air cool and crisp as Joel made his way toward the watchtower. A few guards gave him curious glances, but no one stopped him. He wasn’t exactly known for staying out of trouble, injured or not.

“Have you seen her?” Joel asked one of the guards at the gate, his voice gruff.

“Think she’s still out near the west ridge,” the man replied, tilting his hat back. “They were due back an hour ago, though.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. An hour ago. His grip on his rifle tightened as he set off toward the west ridge, his boots crunching against the gravel.

The relief was like a flood when he spotted you in the distance, your silhouette unmistakable against the fading light.

You were walking back toward the gates, your pack slung over your shoulder, your rifle in hand. Joel’s breath hitched at the sight of you, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel barked, his voice harsher than he intended as he reached you.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his tone. “Patrol. Where I said I’d be.”

“You were late,” Joel muttered, his gaze sweeping over you, searching for any sign of injury. “Anything happen out there?”

“Couple of runners,” you replied, brushing past him toward the gate. “Nothing bad.”

Joel followed you, his chest tight as he struggled to find the right words. “You could’ve sent word. Let someone know you were runnin’ behind.”

You turned to face him then, your eyes sharp. “Joel, I’m fine. I’m more worried about why you’re out here when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was worried about you,” Joel admitted, his voice quieter now, though no less intense. “Didn’t like not knowin’ if you were okay.”

Your expression softened, and you let out a quiet sigh. “Joel, I told you I’d be back.”

“And what if somethin’ had happened?” Joel pressed, his voice growing rough. “What if—” He stopped, his jaw clenching as he looked away.

You stepped closer, your hand resting gently on his arm. “Hey,” you said softly, your tone soothing. “I’m here. I’m okay. And you need to trust that I can take care of myself.”

Joel’s eyes flicked back to yours, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the steadiness in your gaze. “I know you can,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna worry.”

You smiled faintly, squeezing his arm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Joel huffed a laugh, the sound low and rough. “Ain’t what I meant, but… yeah, take it how you want.”

“Come on,” you said, nudging him toward the gate. “Let’s get you home. You’re not supposed to be out here.”

Joel wanted to argue, but the warmth in your voice and the steady grip on his arm made it impossible.

He let you guide him back toward his house, the tension in his chest slowly unwinding with every step.

The walk back to Joel’s house was quiet at first, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm. But as you neared the porch, Joel’s tongue loosened, and the floodgates opened.

“What was it like out there today? Was it quiet before the runners? Were they close? You eat somethin’? Drink enough water?”

You chuckled softly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “Joel, I’m fine. I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his steps faltering slightly as you led him inside. “Just… can’t stop thinkin’ about it. About you. Out there without me.”

His voice was rough, his words tumbling out so quickly he barely had time to filter them. “I mean, I know you’re capable—hell, more than capable—but I wasn’t there, and… I hate not bein’ there.”

You stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face him. Joel’s eyes darted over you, like he was trying to memorize every detail, his breathing uneven, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“You’re rambling, Joel,” you said softly, your voice calm and steady as you reached up to cup his cheek.

Joel froze, his breath hitching at your touch, his wide eyes locking onto yours. “I just…” he began, his voice faltering. “I just—”

“Hush,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “I’m here. I’m fine. And I’m not going anywhere for another 4 days.”

Joel exhaled shakily, leaning into your touch like a man starved. “I know,” he rasped. “I know, but I can’t stop—”

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips soft and warm against his, and Joel melted beneath it, his whole body going taut before he relaxed into the moment. 

His hands found your hips, tentative at first, then firm, gripping you like he was afraid you might disappear.

When you pulled back, his lips chased yours for a heartbeat before he caught himself, his eyes fluttering open. He looked dazed, his chest heaving, his pupils blown wide as he stared at you.

You smiled softly, the sound of his uneven breathing filling the space between you.

Joel’s lips parted as if to speak, but before he could, you leaned in and kissed him again, slower this time. His groan was low and deep, the kind that seemed to come from the very center of him, vibrating through your chest.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his need unmistakable.

When your lips parted and your tongue brushed against his, Joel whimpered—a sound so desperate, so raw, it sent a rush of heat straight through you.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly into the kiss, and Joel’s grip faltered for a second, his lips pulling into a shaky smile against yours.

“Why’re you laughin’?” he asked, his voice rough, his forehead pressing against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’re eager,” you teased, your hands sliding to his shoulders, feeling the strength there. “It’s sweet.”

Joel groaned again, his cheeks flushing as his hands smoothed up your sides. “Can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice dropping lower. “You’re drivin’ me crazy, darlin’. Been thinkin’ about this for too long.”

His gaze dropped, and his eyes darkened as they settled on the curve of your breasts, visible through the gap in your blouse.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his hands twitching like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare without permission. “You’re perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head as you ran your fingers along his jaw. “Joel,” you said, your tone firmer now, and he immediately snapped his gaze back up to meet yours, his breath hitching. “What are you lookin’ at?”

His cheeks went even redder, but he didn’t look away.

Your lips quirked into a sly smile, and you reached up to unbutton the top of your blouse slowly, deliberately. Joel’s eyes tracked every movement, his throat working as he swallowed hard, his cock straining visibly against his jeans.

“You’ve healed up, huh?” you asked, your tone playful, and Joel nodded quickly, his hands shaking slightly.

“Barely feel it,” he murmured, his voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, darlin’. Please let me—”

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head as you pushed the blouse from your shoulders, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.

“Go ahead, Joel,” you said, your voice steady but laced with heat. “If you think you can handle it.”

Joel groaned, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you flush against him as his mouth crashed into yours.

His kisses were messy, desperate, his lips sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed your body, shaky but reverent, sliding up your ribs and hovering just below your chest.

“Eager little thing,” you murmured against his mouth, and Joel whimpered at the words, his hips pressing against yours as his arousal became undeniable.

“Can’t help it,” he breathed, his voice shaky and desperate. “Been wantin’ to get my mouth on you for so long. Wanna lick every inch of you. Fuck, those pretty nipples—been dyin’ to suck on ‘em, darlin’. Let me taste you, please.”

The way his voice cracked, the way he clung to you—it was enough to make your resolve waver. But you weren’t going to let him get off that easily. Not yet.

“Bed,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to guide him toward the bedroom. Joel followed without hesitation, his hands still on you, his body trembling with barely-contained need.

“Sit down, baby,” you murmured, your voice firm but teasing as you pushed him gently onto the mattress.

Joel sat immediately, lips wet and swollen from your kisses, his pupils blown wide as he stared up at you like you were a goddess he was desperate to worship.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze flicking to your chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You stepped between his legs, running your hands up his thighs, feeling the way they trembled under your touch.

“Is this what you’ve been dreamin’ about, Joel?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as you leaned in close. “Me, standin’ over you like this, lettin’ you look your fill?”

Joel groaned, his head tipping back as his hips jerked involuntarily. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Every night, darlin’. I—fuck—I think about you all the time. Can’t stop.”

You smirked, running your hands higher until your fingers brushed against the hard, throbbing bulge straining beneath his jeans. Joel’s breath hitched, his hips lifting slightly as if to chase your touch.

“Bet you’ve been strokin’ that cock to the thought of me, haven’t you?” you purred, your nails scraping lightly along his thighs.

“Thinking about my tits, my mouth, wonderin’ what it’d feel like to have me all over you?”

Joel let out a broken whimper, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as he nodded. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice thick with desperation. “Fuck, yes. I think about you all the time—Drives me crazy.”

You laughed softly, Joel’s eyes focused, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of you, his gaze zeroing in on your breasts, the way your nipples pebbled in the cool air.

You reached up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them lightly, your thumbs brushing over your nipples. “Wanna taste them, baby? Wanna feel my tits in your mouth?”

Joel groaned loudly, his hands clenching into fists as his cock strained painfully against his jeans. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, let me—fuck, let me taste them."

You smirked, stepping closer and guiding his hands to your hips. “Go on then, baby,” you murmured, leaning in until your chest was level with his face. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. His hands slid up to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples with a desperate groan. 

His lips were hot and eager, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud before he sucked it into his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it,” you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. “Good boy, Joel. Just like that.”

Joel whimpered against your skin, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently as he switched to your other nipple. His tongue worked in slow, deliberate strokes, his lips tugging and sucking as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Finally” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled but no less desperate.

You chuckled softly, grinding your hips against his lap, feeling the hard line of his cock pressing against your thigh. “You’re so needy,” you teased, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “Can’t even keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

Joel shook his head, his mouth still attached to your nipple as he let out a low, guttural moan. His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly as he rocked against you, his cock throbbing beneath the rough denim of his jeans.

“Can’t help it,” he rasped, his voice hoarse. “You’re all I think about. All I want.”

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Then be a good boy for me, Joel,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Keep sucking.”

Joel groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as his lips moved back to your breast, sucking and licking with renewed fervor. His hips bucked against yours, his need spilling out in every touch, every sound.

“You like these, baby?” you murmured, cupping your breast and brushing your thumb over your wet, glistening nipples. “My sweet boy likes them, hm?”

Joel froze for a moment, his pupils dilating as the meaning of your words sank in. His hips bucked sharply, and he let out a strangled moan, his whole body trembling beneath you.

“Fuck, I-,” he groaned, his voice cracking as his head fell back against the headboard. “Shit, darlin’, I’m sorry—I can’t… I’m—fuck!”

You felt the unmistakable heat and dampness spreading as Joel’s hips jerked one last time, his moans spilling into the quiet room. His face flushed a deep red, his chest heaving as he realized what had just happened.

“Shit,” he muttered again, his voice thick with embarrassment as he covered his face with one hand. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I’m so sorry. This is so stupid—”

“Joel,” you interrupted, your voice firm but soothing as you brushed his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”

He did, his eyes wide and vulnerable, his lips parted as he struggled to catch his breath. The sight of him—flushed, desperate, and utterly wrecked—only made you want him more.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, your lips curving into a wicked smile. “I’m flattered, baby. You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to come in your pants for me.”

Joel let out a choked sound, his hips twitching involuntarily beneath you.

“I… fuck, darlin’, you make me crazy,” he admitted hoarsely. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about you. I need you. Please… let me make it up to you.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned down, brushing your lips against his ear. “Still wanna keep going, baby?” you whispered, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “After you’ve already made such a mess?”

Joel nodded frantically, his hands gripping your hips like a lifeline. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I don’t think I ever wanna stop, ma’am. Please… let me taste you. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.”

You pulled back slightly, tilting your head as you studied him, your expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, you smiled, your fingers trailing down his chest. “Undress me,” you commanded, your voice soft but firm.

Joel flushed, his hands moving to your waist again. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pants, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for permission. 

You nodded, leaning back onto the bed as you let him guide the fabric down your legs, his touch careful but firm.

By the time your pants were off, you were sprawled out on the bed, your back resting against the pillows. 

Joel knelt between your legs, his chest heaving as he stared down at you, his eyes drinking in every detail like he was trying to commit it to memory.

"You're beautiful," he said again, his voice breaking slightly as his fingers slid along the waistband of your panties. 

He paused when he saw a visible wet spot already soaking through the fabric. His breath hitched, and he let out a shaky, “Fuck… look at that. So wet for me, darlin’. Goddamn.”

His hands trembled as he paused, glancing up at you for reassurance.

You smirked, one eyebrow arching as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

"Go on, baby," you murmured, your voice soft and encouraging. "You've got me all to yourself. Do what you've been dreaming about."

Joel’s hands hovered over your hips for a moment before he finally let them settle there, his thumbs brushing against the edge of your panties.

Joel settled between your legs like he was kneeling before an altar, his chest heaving and his fingers trembling as he slid along the waistband of your panties.

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and wide with need, and you gave him the softest smile, threading your fingers into his hair as you gently tugged him closer.

“yeah, baby” you murmured, your voice dripping with encouragement.

His breath hitched, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He kissed you there, slow and reverent, his beard grazing your flesh and sending shivers through you. Each kiss was accompanied by a low, throaty groan, his lips moving steadily closer to the source of your heat.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, his voice breaking as he reached the edge of your panties. His nose pressed against the damp fabric, and he inhaled sharply, the sound guttural and desperate.

“Fuck, you smell so good, darlin’. Like heaven—sweet, wet heaven.”

His hands trembled as they gripped your thighs, holding you open as he buried his face against you, nuzzling and inhaling like he couldn’t get enough.

The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against your calves, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his breath and the wet heat of his mouth against your panties.

“Been dreamin’ about this—about your sweet cunt for so fuckin’ long. Want it so bad, baby. Wanna taste you—wanna lick you, suck that pretty clit between my lips and drink you down till there’s nothin’ left.”

You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging gently, encouraging him.

“Yeah?” you whispered, your voice low and breathless. “You wanna eat me out, baby? Wanna show me how good that mouth of yours is? Then take them off.”

Joel knelt between your thighs, trembling as he slid your soaked panties down your legs.

He didn’t even try to hide the way his breath hitched when your cunt was fully exposed to him, glistening and perfect.

His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths as he just stared for a moment, his lips parting like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“You just gonna look, Joel?” you teased, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently. “Or are you gonna be a good boy and show me what you can do?”

That broke him. His head dipped instantly, his breath ghosting hot over your slick folds as he whispered, “Yes… yes, ma’am.” His voice was low, reverent, almost a prayer.

The first touch of his tongue was hesitant but deliberate, a slow drag from your entrance to your clit, as if he wanted to savor you.

He groaned into you, the sound muffled but deep, and then he leaned in further, pressing his mouth to your cunt like he couldn’t get close enough.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice soft but thick with pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so eager for it. Just like that.”

Joel didn’t answer—couldn’t answer.

He was too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open as he worked his tongue through every inch of your folds.

His breath hitched as he tasted you, his lips sealing over your clit for a moment to suck softly before his tongue returned to explore your entrance.

“Oh, baby,” you breathed, your hips arching slightly into his mouth. “You’re so fucking good at that. Look at you, so hungry for me. You love this, don’t you? Love worshipping my pussy.”

His only response was a desperate, muffled groan and moaning as he shifted his grip, spreading your thighs wider. 

His nose pressed against your clit, and he rubbed it there as his tongue delved inside you, slow and deliberate, tasting you from the inside out. 

His breathing was ragged now, warm puffs of air against your heat between each swipe of his tongue.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered hoarsely against you, his voice barely audible over the sound of his mouth working your cunt. “Fuck… taste so good. Yes. Yes, ma’am…”

You tugged his hair lightly, guiding him just where you wanted, and he followed without hesitation, his moans vibrating through your core. 

His nose nudged your clit again, his tongue lapping at your entrance with long, languid strokes, and your moans filled the room, soft and breathy.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, your voice breaking slightly as he found just the right rhythm. “Such a good boy. Keep going, baby. Make me come.”

Joel groaned deeply, the sound muffled as he pressed his face impossibly closer to your core, his lips locking around your clit. 

Each sound he made was guttural, desperate, like he was losing himself in the taste of you.

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, anchoring himself to you as his nose pressed against your folds, adding pressure in all the right places.

“Good boy,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you combed your fingers through his hair, guiding him exactly where you needed him. “Keep going, baby. Suck my clit just like that.”

Joel whimpered against you, the sound low and wrecked, and he obeyed without hesitation, sucking harder, his tongue darting out to flick over the swollen nub between pulls. 

He groaned again, his hips shifting slightly as if he couldn’t help but grind against the mattress, completely undone by the act of pleasuring you.

Your breath hitched, your body trembling as the tension in your core tightened to an unbearable degree.

“Fuck, Joel—don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop.”

He moaned louder at your words, his hands tightening on your thighs as he doubled down, his lips creating just the right amount of pressure while his tongue worked you mercilessly. 

His nose nudged against your clit in rhythm with his sucking, the sensation pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” he murmured against you between strokes, his voice trembling with need. “Wanna make you come, ma’am. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your back arching as your orgasm slammed into you, waves of pleasure crashing through you so hard you couldn’t even form words. 

Joel groaned against you, his tongue and lips relentless as he rode out your release, his moans vibrating through every sensitive nerve ending.

When you finally came down, your thighs trembling and your breath shaky, Joel slowly pulled back, his lips glistening and swollen, his face flushed and eyes glazed with pure adoration.

He looked like a man on his knees at the altar of a goddess.

“perfect,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, his gaze fixed on your blissed-out expression.

“Did I do good?” he asked quietly, his voice raw and hoarse.

You smiled, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “Better than good, baby,” you murmured. “Fuck.”

Joel’s eyes darted to yours, wide and full of something raw and pleading. 

He leaned in again, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he spoke, his voice trembling with need. “Please… can I keep goin’? Just a little more. I don’t wanna stop. Wanna taste you again, ma’am.”

His mouth found your clit in a featherlight kiss, his tongue flicking out experimentally, careful and reverent as though seeking permission. 

His hands slid up your thighs, holding them open like you might change your mind.

“Joel,” you said, your voice soft but firm, your hand threading into his hair and tugging just enough to stop him. “No, baby. I wanna feel you now.”

Joel froze, his breath hitching, and he whined softly against your skin, the sound almost pitiful. “But—” he started, his lips pressing to your clit again in a desperate, fleeting kiss. “I can make you come again. Please, I—”

“Joel.” Your voice was sharper this time, not cruel but commanding. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his lips glistening and his pupils blown wide. “You’ve been so good, baby, but I want you now. Don’t make me ask twice.”

The words sent a visible shudder through him. He hesitated for half a second before pulling back reluctantly, his lips parted as if to protest but no words came out. His hands lingered on your thighs, squeezing gently as he swallowed hard.

“Yes, ma’am,” he finally said, his voice low and hoarse, the respect and submission in his tone sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

He sat back on his heels, his eyes never leaving yours as he waited for your next command.

You leaned up slightly, cupping his cheek with one hand, your thumb brushing over his flushed skin. His lips were parted, breathless, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. 

“You’ve done so well, baby,” you murmured softly, letting your other hand trail down his chest. “But I need to see all of you. Let’s get this off.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his wide eyes locking onto yours as you reached for the buttons of his shirt. “Yes,” he whispered, the words shaky and reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed this moment.

One by one, you undid the buttons, the fabric parting to reveal the broad expanse of his chest.

You slid the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the bed as you sat back to admire him.

Your gaze swept over the planes of his body—the strong curve of his shoulders, the scars that marred his skin, the soft dusting of hair on his chest.

“Fuck, Joel,” you murmured, your voice full of heat and awe. “Look at you. You’re beautiful.”

His cheeks turned a deep red, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “Don’t know about that,” he mumbled, his voice low and unsure.

You leaned forward, your hands sliding over his chest, your thumbs brushing along the ridges of his scars.

“Oh, I do,” you purred, your tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re fucking perfect, Joel. Every inch of you.”

Your fingers grazed his nipples, and Joel froze, his breath catching audibly. The faintest shiver ran through his body, and he let out a soft, shaky, “Ma’am…”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “Sensitive, huh?” you murmured, circling the hardened peaks with your thumbs.

Joel let out a broken gasp, his hips jerking into the air as his hands gripped the sheets beneath him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and desperate. “Didn’t… didn’t know I -.”

“You didn’t?” you teased, leaning down to press a soft kiss to one nipple before flicking your tongue over it. Joel’s reaction was instant—a guttural moan that sent a wave of heat straight through you.

“Sweetheart I-” he gasped again, his hands trembling as they hovered near your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you. “I—fuck, I—”

“Hush, baby,” you whispered, shifting to his other nipple and sucking it into your mouth. 

Joel cried out, his head falling back against the pillows as his chest arched into your touch.

His hips bucked again, and you could feel how hard he was, straining against the confines of his jeans.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know… didn’t know I could feel this good. Please, don’t stop.”

You hummed against his skin, your tongue teasing over the sensitive bud before you nipped at it gently. Joel’s whole body jerked, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you murmured, sitting back to admire the way his chest heaved, his eyes wide and glassy. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this before.”

Joel shook his head frantically, his hands gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white. “No,” he breathed. “Never. Fuck, it’s—ma’am, it’s so good.”

You let your hands drift lower, tracing the sharp lines of his ribs and the soft curve of his stomach. Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a shaky moan as your fingers teased the waistband of his jeans.

“You want more, baby?” you asked softly, your voice teasing and full of promise.

Joel nodded frantically, his voice barely above a whisper as he rasped, “Please… please, ma’am. Anything you want.”

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, slowly pulling them down along with his underwear, your eyes drinking in the sight of him as he was finally exposed.

Joel’s cock sprang free, flushed and thick, the head an angry, swollen red and glistening with his earlier release.

Pearly streaks of cum had smeared down his shaft, pooling at the base and even dripping onto his balls. You let out a low hum of approval, your lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Such a mess,” you tutted, your voice thick with teasing affection. “You’ve really made quite the mess, baby.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shaky gasps as he avoided your gaze, his embarrassment clear. But his hips jerked slightly, almost involuntarily, at the heat in your voice.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now,” you teased, your fingers curling gently around his cock, feeling the slickness of him against your palm.

“This is nothing to be embarrassed about. It just shows how much you need me.”

Joel whimpered, his voice breaking as he finally met your eyes. “I… I can’t help it,” he admitted hoarsely, his voice trembling. “You make me—fuck—you make me crazy.”

Your thumb stroked up the length of his shaft, smearing the sticky remnants of his cum before circling the sensitive head.

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice softening just a touch. “And I love how desperate you get for me. Let me clean you up first, okay? Can’t leave my good boy all messy like this.”

Joel nodded frantically, his lips parting as a shaky moan escaped him. “Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice thick with submission.

You leaned down, your tongue darting out to trace along the underside of his cock, starting at the base where his cum had pooled and slowly working your way up.

The taste of him was intoxicating, salty and musky, and you let out a quiet, pleased hum as you licked him clean. Joel’s entire body trembled beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he struggled to stay still.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “Ma’am… oh, fuck…”

You didn’t stop, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, collecting every drop of his release before moving lower.

Your lips closed around one of his balls, sucking gently as your hand continued to stroke him, coaxing soft whimpers and gasps from his lips.

His thighs trembled, his breath hitching as you moved to the other, lavishing it with the same attention.

“You taste so good, Joel,” you murmured, your voice low and sultry as you pulled back slightly to admire your work. “Such a pretty cock, too. Look at you, all clean and perfect for me now.”

Joel moaned loudly, his head tipping back as his hands clenched the sheets even tighter. “You’re—fuck—you’re perfect,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “I don’t deserve this.”

You grinned, your fingers brushing along the length of his cock, your touch light and teasing.

“You deserve every bit of this,” you said firmly, your voice dipping into a commanding tone. “You’ve been such a good boy for me, haven’t you? Letting me take care of you like this.”

Joel’s hips jerked against your hand, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he nodded frantically.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Yes, ma’am. Please… please don’t stop.”

You leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive slit.

“You want more, baby?” you murmured, your voice dripping with seduction. “Want me to make you feel even better?”

Joel’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours as he nodded, his desperation palpable. “Please,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “I’ll do anything. Just… please let me feel you.”

You smiled, soft and knowing, before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Anything, huh?” you teased, your voice low and dripping with promise. “Then show me, Joel. Show me how much you want this.”

Joel’s hands trembled as he gripped your hips, helping you straddle him. His cock pressed against your slick heat, and he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through both of you.

His eyes flicked between your face and where your bodies were about to join, his chest heaving with anticipation.

“Don’t make me wait,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and wrecked. “Please, ma’am. Let me feel you.”

You reached down, guiding him to your entrance, your breath hitching as you slowly sank down onto him.

The stretch was delicious, the thickness of him filling you completely, and you couldn’t help the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasped, your hands bracing on his chest. “You feel so good, baby. So big—.”

Joel’s head fell back against the pillows, his lips parted as a choked moan escaped him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice shaky. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect. Feels like heaven, darlin’. I—fuck—I can’t believe this.”

You rocked your hips slowly, letting yourself adjust to the feel of him before setting a steady rhythm.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he bucked up to meet you, his movements desperate and hungry.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding as you leaned over him, your lips brushing against his ear. “That’s it, Joel. Let me take care of you. Let me give you what you need.”

Joel whimpered beneath you, his hips stuttering as he clung to you.

“You’re… you’re so fuckin’ good to me,” he rasped, his voice cracking with emotion. “The way you—fuck—the way you handle everything. The way you handle me.”

You tilted your head, studying him with soft affection as your hips moved steadily against his.

“Finally can let go, hm?” you murmured, your tone soothing yet commanding. “Yeah? Let me take care of you, Joel. You don’t have to worry so much.”

Joel’s eyes squeezed shut, his breath hitching as his hands slid up to cup your waist, holding you like you were his lifeline.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his hips bucking harder into you. “I—I worry about you, darlin’. But… but it’s an honor to. Always an honor.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, swallowing the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.

His thrusts grew erratic beneath you, his chest heaving as he neared the edge.

Joel’s hands gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid to let go.

His breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his hips moved with a frantic rhythm beneath you, desperate and unrelenting. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body moving in perfect sync with his.

“You’re so fucking good, Joel,” you murmured against his lips, your voice heavy with affection and desire. “So perfect, baby. Keep going—don’t stop.”

His head tipped back, exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat, a choked moan escaping his lips.

“I—I can’t—fuck, darlin’,” he gasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion. “You feel so goddamn good. Can’t… can’t hold on much longer.”

You cupped his face, bringing his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek.

“You don’t have to hold on,” you whispered, your voice a soothing command. “Let go for me, Joel. Let me feel you.”

Joel’s eyes widened, his pupils blown, and his hips snapped up into you with desperate force.

“You’re—God, you’re everything,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his hands slid up your sides, trembling as they roamed over your body. “Everything, darlin'. Don’t wanna stop… don’t wanna lose this.”

“You’re not gonna lose anything,” you reassured him, your own voice breathy and uneven as you rocked against him harder, the friction pushing you closer to your own edge. “I’m here, Joel. Always. Now, give it to me, baby.”

Joel’s body tensed, his back arching off the bed as a guttural moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck!” he cried, his hands gripping your hips as his release hit him, his cock pulsing inside you with a heat that sent you spiraling.

The intensity of his climax triggered your own, your body tightening around him as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

Your cries mingled with his, the room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, raw and unrestrained.

Joel’s hips stuttered beneath you, his movements slowing as he rode out the last shuddering waves of his orgasm. His hands loosened their grip on your hips, sliding up to cradle your back as he pulled you down against his chest, holding you close.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds in the room your labored breathing and the faint rustle of the sheets. Joel’s fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re… you’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with awe. “I don’t deserve you, darlin’. Don’t deserve any of this.”

You lifted your head, brushing your lips against his with a tenderness that made his breath hitch. “You deserve it all, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady but warm. “Every damn bit. You’re good to me—you’re good for me.”

Joel’s eyes searched yours, shining with an emotion he couldn’t quite name but didn’t want to hide. His arms tightened around you, his lips brushing your forehead in a lingering, reverent kiss.

"Now rest up. We’ve got work to do.”

· · ───

From then on, you and Joel became Jackson’s most formidable pair. Whether it was managing patrols, handling disputes, or protecting the town, people knew better than to question the two of you. Joel was your rock, steadfast and loyal, while you were the sharp, commanding presence that kept everything moving forward.

He was at your side for every decision, every challenge, always watching your back—and stealing those quiet moments when it was just the two of you. Joel wore his pride in you like a badge, unspoken but deeply felt, in the way his gaze lingered and his touch steadied you.

And every night, as the world outside grew dark, you both found solace in each other—a partnership built on trust, strength, and the kind of love that didn’t need words to be understood.

Joel always said it best in his own way: “Ain’t nothin’ in this world I wouldn’t do for you, darlin’. Always.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I am not beta reading all of that so if y'all find any errors tell me or ignore them like I did the past 22 years. Hope this was fun for you - please comment your opinions (plsplspls). I kinda feel like this is too long idk-

love youuuuuu

[simpingforjoel]

I’m utterly and irrevocably in love with this yearning sub!joel!! 🥰❤️ reading about his constant loyalty, respect, admiration, protectiveness and love for the reader had me tearing up!! this was incredibly HOT as well, what a good boy this joel is!!! 🤭🫠🔥

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 7.8k (at last, a normal chapter length)

summary : din is so in love it's obscene at this point, keep it in your chest man (it being his heart.)

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, this chapter is a sappy nightmare,,, like i've got one last chance to be sappy before i need to do my action packed finale so this is just me being sappy, din djarins so in love it makes me sick, fingering, p in v, clit stim, reverse cowgirl, creampie, cockwarming, massages, just general happiness like why are these idiots so happy what is their problem

a/n : WOOF this took a fucking WHILE to get out, and for those who waited, prepare to be UNDERWHELMED lmao. this is the last chapter before the final arc of the story and i was feeling rather sentimental while I wrote it. anyhow,,, i have a million excuses for why this took so long but like who cares cause it's here now yippee!!! as for every chapter i've ever posted i have no idea if i like this or not so there's that, i kind of hate this one the way i hate every lunar interlude, like i've never written a din pov and felt good about it lmao so i guess we'll see. comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. 

He’s going to ask you to marry him.

Is that something he can do? 

Technically of course you don’t really consider yourself married as far as he can tell. Sure you have a husband but that’s all he is, a husband. 

An obstacle. 

The two of you could still be married. 

And you wanted to leave this place. So he was going to give you exactly that. 

A home, far away from here. 

He pulls you into the cabin, wanting nothing more than for you to see the smile on his face. Of course you won’t let him do that much to his confusion. 

Maybe if you’re married to him you’ll look. 

The longer you wait the more nervous he gets about it. 

A lot can go wrong with this kind of thing. 

Very specifically, you could just not find him attractive in the slightest, which wouldn’t be great all things considered. If that happened maybe he could just live with the helmet on and you’d be okay with that. 

“Do you want to sleep here tonight or go back to the castle?” You look exhausted as he asks, he practically carries you towards the bed. 

“Here’s fine.” You look too tired to walk back anyway. 

He drags the mattress off of the busted frame, setting it on the floor. You seem surprised that he didn’t have a bigger reaction to your love confession. 

He did the first time you’d said it a few days ago. 

After the first day stuck in your room, you had said it that night. All you had wanted to do that day was fight and he hadn’t been able to give you even that. He knew you were right. It was stupid to stay. 

Even if things are okay now. 

You had said his name so clearly with such urgency that he believed you might be about to start another argument in the middle of the night.

“Din?” You had grabbed the front of his shirt and it wasn’t until he’d tried to talk to you that he’d realized you were still asleep. 

“Are you okay, sarad?” He sat up and cradled your head in his hands but you’d only held on tighter as you mumbled in your sleep.

“I love you.” And just like that you were collapsing back in his arms, still asleep as if nothing had happened. 

He hadn’t cried like he did that night since the kid left. 

And it didn’t matter when you didn’t say it back in the morning. (Despite the fact that he had said it quite a bit.) You loved him and he knew it. And he had made sure to show you just how much he loved you on that second day. 

He grins as you sit down on the bed with a yawn. He takes it upon himself to kneel beside you, unlacing the back of your gown. You have no resistance as he helps peel the rain soaked fabric from your skin. 

“Let me get you a change of clothes.” He leaves you to get out of the rest as he finds you a simple set of sleep wear. You let him redress you until he finally lays you down and stands, going to change out of his own wet clothes. 

When he steps out of the fresher you’ve turned the lights off he's in a clean flight suit with his helmet on as he slides under the blankets with you. 

“Warm enough?” The cabin feels colder than the castle as he pulls you closer. 

“I’m perfectly comfortable here.” Your voice is heavy with sleep as he rests his chin on the top of your head, beskar bumping against your hair. 

“Get some sleep.” He mumbles, not bothering to close his own eyes. 

“You promised you’d eat the candy.” You whisper into the darkness, you sound  barely conscious. 

“I did not.” At least he’s pretty sure he didn’t, he’s realized at this point that if he says anything with enough confidence you usually believe it. 

“You alluded to it.” You’re right, he probably did. 

“Do you really want to see the damage I would do after eating that thing?” He’ll never do it. In all honesty he’s a little nervous he’ll accidentally hurt you.

“A little.” You flip over in his arms so you’re facing him now, when you look at him he finds himself falling victim to the pleading look in your eyes. Damn nightvision. 

“Go to sleep.” He has to close his eyes, if he stares at you too long he’ll give in despite his own worries. “I love you.” He murmurs. He needs you to know it. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You laugh softly before going silent. 

It only takes a few more minutes before your breathing gets quiet and steady against him. 

When he’s certain you’re asleep he reaches over to turn the lamp back on. You’d think with how often he does this that you’d have seen his face on accident at some point but maybe he’s just really lucky. 

He likes to look at you without the helmet on.

It’s fine with it, but nothing compares to seeing you without the barrier. Sometimes, if he’s still wearing the helmet and he takes it off you smile in your sleep when the airlock hisses. But since you’re insistent on not looking he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to really look at you. So he does it on nights like these. 

You get so sleepy after sex. 

So he gets to hold you, and watch how your eyes flutter open the tiniest bit when he can’t help himself and kisses your cheeks until he can bring himself to sleep. Or how you mumble back to him when he whispers things to you in Mando’a. 

Most importantly you look less worried when you sleep. You always look so worried but not when you’re like this. There is plenty to be worried about so he can’t hold it against you. 

He’s going to build you a house someday. And he’s going to give you a garden. 

So you can go outside and look at the flowers whenever you want. 

And you won’t ever have to worry again. 

With a soft hiss of air he removes his helmet, setting it somewhere in the sheets as he looks at you, unburdened. He likes the way your lips part just a little bit as the corners of your mouth lift. 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek before rolling over to rest his head on your chest so he can feel you breathe until he falls asleep, it helps him to match your breathing. Your hands hold him, even in your sleep you run your hands across his back and shoulders. One time you had a nightmare and you pulled his hair so hard you’d woke yourself up. But he’d never complain, it’s one of his favorite things about you. You love him even when you’re sleeping. Like right now, your nails lighty scratch at the nape of his neck. 

It helps him sleep.

☆

When he wakes up he’s got a blanket thrown over his head and you’re already up, sitting at the table.

“You fell asleep without your helmet on.” He hears you grumble. 

“Sorry.” He chuckles as he searches for it in the mess of sheets only to find you’d set it on the floor beside him. Once it’s properly in place he finds you reading. He stands behind you, looking over your shoulder. 

“How did you find that?” He tries to grab the translation book but you swat his hand away. 

“You said we had no secrets.” Your eyes are scanning the pages. “Ner means mine.” You grin up at him as you say it. 

“Yes, it does.” He stares right back down at you. 

You lean backwards, grabbing the front of his shirt. 

“Ner.” 

Would you think less of him if you knew how often his face turned red when you spoke to him like that? A few weeks ago that kind of worry would drive him mad, but now? He knows you wouldn’t mind, knowing you'd probably feel accomplished to get such a reaction from him. 

“Gar serim.” You’re right. He murmurs back before getting your things together, listening to the sound of the pages frantically flipping behind him as you look for the words.

When you find the page you give him a dopey smile 

He suddenly remembers something, going to the fresher and searching through last night's wet clothes he finds the vial, bringing it to you, you don’t need any instruction from him as you pop the cap off, drinking the contents before setting it aside. 

“What do you want to do today?” He holds up the scraps of your dress, trying to decide if it’s even worth putting back on. 

“I’m a little tired, maybe we could read today.” You turn just in time to watch him toss it back on the ground. 

“Sounds perfect.” This will give him some much needed time to think.

He has a plan for today. There are a few things that he needs to get done before he leaves.

Like tell you that he has to leave. 

Of course he doesn’t want to leave you, even if it’s only going to be for a few days, but he wants to do this the right way and to do that he needs to leave. 

Just a few days. And then he doesn’t have to leave you ever again. 

And he needs to get away from you long enough to make the failsafe he knows you don’t want. You’re always together at this point, (not that he would have it any other way.) so it won’t be easy to find time away to do it but he’ll figure it out. 

“We should get going.” He’s pretty sure he has everything he needs and you need to be back in your room before any staff might notice you’re gone. 

“But  I wanna keep doing this.” You give him your sad eyes as you gesture to the book and he’s already ready to give in. 

“You can bring that to the library.” He groans and that’s all the convincing needed to get you on your feet. He manages to get you back to your room just before the girls arrive. He stands where he’s expected to stand out in the hall. It’s the only time he really spends away from you. 

When the door opens he instinctively stands up a little straighter.

They put you in a white dress. 

A pretty white dress. 

Did you know what this would do to him? 

You can’t possibly know the effect this kind of thing has on him, if you did you wouldn’t put him through this. 

“Ready?” He says as he peers at the translation book still happily tucked under your arm.

“Of course.” He’s mesmerized by your gown, it’s simpler than the ones they normally do you up in, white fabric flowing off your shoulders down to the floor, as you walk it trails behind you a bit. It’s a familiar quiet as he walks you to those large wooden doors, opening them as you rush inside. 

“What do you want to read today?” You’re searching around the shelves, you’ve already set your own reading in the nook. 

“Surprise me.” He won’t be reading today anyway, he needs to plan. 

“Here.” You hand him a book on speeder maintenance, normally he’d be thrilled to spend the day reading the sort of thing but he really should just take today to think. 

He sits first. Leaving space between his legs for you to sit which you happily do. Once you’re settled he opens his book, pretending to read as he lets his mind focus on what's important. 

Starting with the part where he tells you he’s leaving.

Or that he’s decided rather recently that he needs to leave.   

He should just do it now, get it out of the way so it stops bothering him, especially because he’d like to leave as soon as possible, but you seem so relaxed right now and he’d hate to ruin that. 

So he’ll focus more on the trip itself than the telling you part. 

It should only take a few days. A quick trip to the forge and back. 

He’s pretty sure he’s found out where the convert currently is. He doesn't have as much free time as he used to so it took a little outside help, seeking out old colleagues until finally hearing word of an outer rim planet where they might be located. He’ll catch a transport ship there, take care of what needs to be taken care of, and be back to you before he knows it. 

Then you can plan your life together. 

He would love to just bring you to the forge with him, go from there and never look back. That would be ideal. To get you out of here as quickly as possible. But that’s not possible, if he’s gonna go this he’s gonna do it right, so he’ll plan everything down to the last detail to make sure that it’s as safe as possible. If he’s being realistic he knows you’ll have to do something drastic, probably along the lines of faking your death. 

Will he have to kill Kodo? 

He’d like to. 

He’s wanted to kill Kodo for some time now, he’s just a little worried you’d be mad, you were so mad when he hit him. 

He never wanted you to be that mad at him ever again. 

So maybe he won’t. 

That would be the easiest way to get you out though, to be fair. Kill Kodo and run, and deal with the consequences after. He’ll hide you away somewhere until things die down and then he’ll build you something permanent. A home for the both of you. 

He could also just whisk you away into the night one of these days. 

He honestly isn’t sure how long they’d look for you, the last thing he’d want is for you to have to live a life on the run, he wants for the both of you to be able to settle. If it was clear he had taken you it would be deemed a kidnapping, it would be a long search, how long would they look if they believed you just ran away? He doesn’t talk to other staff members enough to know how seriously the royal family would take such a thing. 

Faking your death would probably be the easiest thing. 

No one comes looking for you. 

He isn’t entirely sure how you’ll handle that suggestion but if you’re serious about starting a life together it isn’t going to be easy. 

“I’ll be right back.” He stands, and you immediately give him a confused look, he never gets up and leaves, but he’s just realized that you’ll need to be taken care of while he’s gone. Who will protect you when he’s away? He definitely doesn’t trust anyone here to watch over you, Elaine would be his first choice but she’s busy when she isn’t tending to you and in all honesty he isn’t sure what she would do if something were to happen to you. 

So he’ll have to go with someone who he knows is available to watch you and who he’s certain won’t harm you. 

You aren’t going to be happy with his choice. 

When he steps out into the hall he calls his name, a few moments later Leo appears, he already seems reluctant, Din never summons him but this is important, and he doesn’t have any other options. 

“I’m leaving, tomorrow, I have to take care of some things, Kodo said it would be fine for me to take time off when I took the job.” Tomorrow. Well that’s settled then he supposes. The twi’lek trembles under his gaze, clearly unsure as to where he’s going with this.  

“While I’m gone you will watch her.” Din adds on at the end, Leo looks clearly unhappy with this arrangement as he stumbles back a bit. 

“Me?” 

“I won’t repeat myself. You will watch her, you will make sure she doesn’t leave the castle when I am gone. If somebody tries to get near her, you stop them, if somebody tries to hurt her, you will stand between them, if she gets hurt you will feel whatever pain she feels tenfold upon my return. If she so much as gets a papercut while she’s reading in the library there will be repercussions.” He straightens his posture to make himself the tiniest bit more imposing over Leo. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, you’re understood.” Based on the fear in Leo’s eyes he’s certain he may have gone a little overboard but he’d rather be safe than sorry. 

“Good.”

That’s taken care of. 

Once Leo is gone, disappearing down the hall, he opens the door, slipping back into the library where you’re standing in the entryway.

At least he doesn’t have to figure out how to tell you. 

“You’re leaving.” You say it like it’s a fact. Which of course you now know it is. 

“Yes.” No sense in hiding it. 

“And you just weren’t going to tell me?” He definitely should have told you. 

“I was just about to tell you.” He hates when you look at him the way you are now. Like you can see right through the steel, like you know he’s lying, like you can see the guilty expression on his face. “I was going to tell you soon. I have to go take care of some things.” 

“Take me with you.” You say it more like a demand and less like a request. He probably should have seen that one coming, even if he wasn’t going to get something to surprise you with he probably wouldn’t be allowed to take you off planet. 

“I wish I could, sarad, but I have to go alone, I’ll only be gone a few days.” Kriff, he really should have told you sooner. 

“Where are you going?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. 

“I… can’t tell you.” Not a great excuse, he knows that. 

“If I’m being honest I don’t love the sound of that.” He can’t blame you, if your roles were reversed he wouldn’t just let you go. 

“I know but I need you to trust me, I’ll only be gone a few days.”

“And you absolutely have to go?” You sound less mad and more upset now. If he wasn’t leaving to do something for you, your expression alone would be enough to make him stay. 

“Yes. He says it like he’s confirming it for himself. 

“I’ll miss you.” All the anger has left your voice, now you just sound sad. 

“I’ll miss you.” More than anything. 

“When will you be back?” 

“I’m not sure exactly, I won’t be long.” Unless he can’t find the convert, but you don’t need to know that part. You nod and he’s a little surprised at your acceptance of all this. “I have to leave in the morning.” A deep frown settles on your face. 

“So soon?” He really should have told you sooner.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If you have to then you have to.” You give him such a sad smile, he wishes he didn’t have to go but he wants to do this right. 

“Can you stay here, I’ll come get you in a few hours.” He cradles your face in his hands, wishing he could wash away any of your doubts, but now that you know he should probably go get ready. “I have to go pack a few things, I’ll be back before dark, okay?” 

“And then you’ll stay with me the rest of the night?” And every night after. 

“Of course.” 

“Okay then, hurry back.” 

This will also probably be the only chance he gets to make that fail safe.  

He lifts his helmet a bit to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving you, watching as you instinctively close your eyes as he does. There isn’t a lot of time for him to do what he needs to do before you’ll be expecting him so he gets back to the cabin as quickly as possible.

He’s quick with everything, packing his bag with only the essentials and tossing the empty box down before finally sitting down at the table. 

Now to write the note. A letter with instructions on what to do if something ever happens to him. 

He doesn’t like the idea of you being left alone with your husband. The thought of it makes him sick. 

If another body guard were hired they wouldn’t protect you from him. 

Maybe he should ask Elaine to help you if that happens. 

She could get you out. 

If he wasn’t here he would want you to leave as quickly as possible, to go somewhere safe. He lists out all the places you could go, names and coordinates of people who can keep you safe at the mention of his name. He spends a solid hour staring at that piece of paper, writing out anything he’d want you to know before folding it up and setting it in the box. 

With that taken care of he kneels on the floor, feeling around until locating the familiar loose board under the kitchen table. 

He’d found it a week after moving in and it seemed like a perfectly good spot to hide things. He’s got a collection of things already set aside for you, he pulls each item from its hiding spot, putting them into the box before holding up a small chainmail shirt. He retrieves the stick shift knob from the shelf, wrapping it in the shirt and putting it in the box. 

In his note he’s left you with a task, to give those to the kid, and to tell him that he’s sorry. 

Lastly he fills a bag with credits, about a month's salary, you should be able to buy yourself a ship if you want, he isn’t sure if you’d know how to fly it but with the money provided you can pay someone to fly it for you. With that he sets the box under an extra flight suit in his bag before returning to the castle, on his way out the door he grabs the few bars of beskar he has. 

You’re right where he left you in the library, your brows furrowed as you stare at that damn book, he should have hidden it better. 

“Wanna go get some dinner?” You look up when he speaks, holding his hand out which you gladly take as he pulls you towards him. 

“We can do that. You’re all packed?” Thankfully you look less upset than you had earlier. 

“All packed.” He drops your hand as he opens the door, following you as you walk to the kitchens. He watches the way the back of your dress just barely drags along the stone floors as you ask for two dinners, handing his to him to carry with a smile as you continue to walk.

When you arrive back at your chambers you’re quick to lock the door, he watches as you rush to the closet, already sitting with your back to him when he steps inside, dim lamp light illuminates the room as he sits, his back brushing against yours as he listens to the sounds of your eating. 

What he wouldn’t give to eat face to face. 

He can’t remember the last time he shared a normal meal with someone. He ate in front of the kid but he always kept the helmet on, it would have been years and years ago, maybe with his parents. 

He finds the latch for his helmet, tossing it aside, he’s already decided he won’t be putting it back on tonight, he chews his food thoughtfully. What would life look like with you after this place? He certainly wouldn’t want to eat dinner like this every night. 

Maker, why won’t you just look? Everything would be easier if you’d just look. He would abandon his creed entirely if that’s what you wanted. Instead he loves the one person in the galaxy who doesn’t want to look. 

“You’re being quiet.” You finally break the silence as he sits up a little straighter.

“I’m always quiet.” He murmurs. 

“You think I don’t know that? You’re being extra quiet, what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” He takes another bit as you lean back against him, resting your back on his as he hears you set your plate aside.

“You’ve been quiet all day.” Of course he has, he has to leave you tomorrow and you’ve been in a white dress all day. 

“I’m quiet every day.” He finishes his food quickly, reaching around blindly until he finds your plate, standing to set the both outside the room, when he turns around this time he faces you, kneeling on the floor behind you as he plays with the lace on the back of the dress, lining a series of buttons in a straight line down your spine. 

“You’re avoiding the point.” You snap at him but he just continues to trail his fingers across the intricate patterns of your dress.

“I’m just gonna miss you, that’s all.” 

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Your tone has softened.

“Want me to show you how much I’m gonna miss you?” He gives the back of your gown a teasing tug. 

“That might be nice.” You’re already reaching towards the lamp but he takes your hand, guiding it back into your lap. 

“Leave it.”

“Din…” You have a soft warning tone as he kisses your exposed shoulder. 

“Please, I want to see you.” He murmurs against your skin as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, pulling it up towards your hips. 

“But-” He’s quick to cut you off. 

“It’s fine, if you don’t look then you won’t see.” He swiftly unlatches his armor, setting it aside as he pulls you into his lap, his chest flush with your back. He turns to kiss your cheek, watching your eyes flutter shut as he does. 

He bunches up your skirt enough so he can see your thighs, pulling his gloves off so he can touch you, he likes the feeling of his skin on yours, how often does he get to have this? Only ever with you, not that he’d have it any other way. You’re just so soft, he likes the way you feel when he spreads your thighs a little wider, watching your mouth open a tiny bit as you inhale sharply. He’s already terribly hard, trying not to rut against your ass as he lets one hand dip between your legs, under your skirt, as the other one drifts up towards your chest, splayed out across your sternum to keep you in place.

He pushes your panties to the side, admiring the wetness he finds already there as he swipes his fingers along your seam. He tilts his head to the side, eager to watch your expression unburdened by his helmet as he pushes two fingers into you. 

Once he’s in your peripheral you close your eyes, leaving him to observe the way your mouth falls open as he gently slides his digits in and out, feeling you shift in his lap to grind against his palm. 

He’s fascinated by you, by the way you move in sync with him, with each movement of his hand you match it with a rock of your hips, or by arching your back.

“Din-” Your voice comes out as a high strangled cry that makes his cock ache against the fabric of his flight suit. 

“Go ahead, I wanna watch.” He mumbles as he presses his cheek to yours, staring down, mesmerized by the sight of you riding his fingers, his own mouth falling open as he feels your entire body tense up, feeling you clamp down on his fingers as you come. He keeps his fingers inside of you until your breathing evens out, once you come down from your orgasm he removes them, bringing them to his mouth as he uses his other hand to reach between the two of you, pulling his cock free. He stares down at the sight of himself against the pretty white fabric of your dress as he moans against his own fingers, stroking himself for a moment before popping his digits out of his mouth, grabbing your hips and lifting you a bit. 

He lets out a small groan as your hands reach down to line him up at your entrance, he lets go of your hips, letting you sink yourself down onto him, his hands wrapping around your thighs instead, squeezing the meat there with a pleased hum. 

You’re going at your own pace as he fights his own impatience, doing his best to not thrust up into you as he latches his mouth onto your shoulder, biting softly as you take nearly all of him, gasping his name the entire time. 

After another moment you’re fully sat in his lap, your breathing heavy as one of his hands moves from your thigh to your clit.

“Can you come again? Like this?” He rasps the words out against your skin, you nod as he begins to swirl his fingers in small precise circles, his moans match your own as he feels you slowly lift yourself off of him, your chest bouncing as you fuck yourself on him. 

Gods as his witness he’ll never wear his helmet again during sex. 

It’s just better to really see you like this, he can’t believe he deprives himself of this so often, the way your body trembles, the sounds you make, everything is simply better without the filters and the modulation. 

“Maker- Din!” Your strained plea snaps him out of his thoughts as he looks at your face, your eyes and nose scrunched up in frustration. “Please, fuck me, Din please.” You always sound so sweet, at this rate he’ll never be able to say no to you.  

He sits up a little to give himself more leverage, one arm wrapped around your waist to steady you, his other hand reaching behind himself to prop himself up as he thrusts up into you. His hips snapping up as he grits his teeth, a growl forming in his throat. He keeps you there for a bit, keeping up a brutal pace as he lets gravity do most of the work, bouncing you on his length, eventually relaxing after feeling your legs give out from under you. He sits back up on his knees, steadying you with both bands now, keeping you impaled on his cock as he leans forward, kissing up the column of your throat.    

“Kiss me, please.” He murmurs against your jaw, desperate for more of you as he lets out a low whine, wishing you would just look at him.

Your eyes shut as you turn your head to kiss him, he brings one hand up to your face, his other still on your stomach as he groans, rocking his hips upwards again. 

“You can look.” He pants, holding his forehead to yours as he stares at your face, contorted in pleasure as he pushes himself deeper into you, watching the way your eyes flutter a bit, never actually opening.

“I- I can’t.” You gasp out as he fucks up into you, short shallow thrusts, relishing in the way you take him, squeezing his cock with every rock of his hips, the way your face looks as he leans in for another kiss, quick and chaste, a sharp juxtaposition to how he’s fucking you, only pulling out in the slightest before slamming back into you. 

“You can, I want you to.” His voice is ragged and desperate at this point. 

“I will, just, not tonight.” 

“Ni vercopaanir gar Ru'kel haa'taylir.” I wish you would look. 

“I will, Din- I promise I will.” He’s sure you didn’t learn enough to know what he said but he’s still satisfied with that answer.

“Okay.” He kisses you again, swallowing your moans as he picks up the pace, pulling you down onto him as he rocks his hips upwards. He manipulates your body like it’s nothing, his hands holding you tightly enough to keep you upright as he continues to slam himself into you, you’re soaking his cock at this point as he muffles his grunts with your mouth. He knows you’re both nearly there, with the way your words become nonsensical. He turns his head to whisper into your ear. “Come for me, sarad.” He groans, his mouth falling open as a slew of filthy noises fall past his lips he feels you pulse around him, he frantically goes to pull out but you shake your head no, slamming your hips back against his and riding out your orgasm he watches you mumble, barely coherently. 

“In- Inside, Din.” 

You don’t have to tell him twice. You give him the sweetest cry as he bites down on your shoulder, he growls against your flesh as he releases the fire pooling in his stomach. 

“Bid jate- bid jate par ni.” So good for me. He mumbles against your shoulder.

He fucks his cum deeper into you with a few more sloppy thrusts before sitting back on his heels, staring at the ceiling as his chest heaves, letting you rest back against him as you go limp in his arms. 

Once he’s caught his breath he leans back, keeping himself inside you as he kicks his legs out. He swallows, still a little unsteady as you sit up, one of his hands wanders to you back, drawing a star there with one of his fingers. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers softly just before you lay back on top of him.

“Why do you do that?” He doesn’t stop you this time as you reach over and turn the lamp off, taking his hands and guiding him to turn the both of you onto your sides as his erection softens inside of you. 

“Do what?” He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the darkness and biting back a groan as you adjust yourself to put your hips flush with his.

“You switch languages, usually when you’re near the end, or when you say something kind.”

Oh.

He’s never really thought about that. 

“How did you know what I said?” He brushes a bit of hair behind your ear as he runs his hand down and up your spine slowly. 

“I asked my question first.”

“Fair enough. I guess it just happens, I’ve never really thought about why. I suppose it’s just another layer of armor, another way to conceal things.” You don’t respond, presumably thinking over his response. “Your turn, how did you know what I said?”

“I guessed.” Smart girl. 

“Of course you did.” He places a kiss against the back of your neck before resting the bridge of his nose there. “Do you wanna sleep like this?” He rocks his hips a bit to accentuate his point, drawing a gasp from you. 

“Yes, please.” You whisper back.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles before closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around you, the last thing he feels before falling asleep is you intertwining your fingers with his. 

☆

He wakes up before you, careful to leave you undisturbed as he reaches over to turn on the lamp, happy to just watch you for a few more minutes before he leaves. Watching the rise and fall of your chest. After a moment he realizes he slipped out of you while he slept.

He’s in no rush but he knows the moment you wake he’ll have to go so he stays still for a while, enjoying the morning quiet until your eyes slowly open, and you stretch your arms with a groan. 

“Good morning, sarad.” He says softly, kissing your shoulder as you shudder at the sensation. 

“You’re leaving.” You whisper to him.

“I am.” 

Much to his surprise you turn to face him, of course he realizes a second too late that your eyes are closed. 

“Be safe.” You murmur, taking his face in your hands before kissing him. Maybe this will be a happy morning despite his worries about going. 

“Always.” He gives you another kiss before sitting up, dressing himself quickly, looking over at you every so often only to find that your eyes are closed until you hear the soft hiss of his helmet. 

“I’m serious, you better be careful.” You sit up and face him as he kneels beside you.

“I will, I promise.” He holds your face in one hand. “Goodbye, sarad’ika.” You give him a radiant smile. 

“Ret'urcye mhi, cyare.” Goodbye, beloved. That’s what you’d been learning yesterday. He’s a little taken aback by the sound of those words leaving your mouth, his own smile forming. 

“Jate bora” Good job. 

He doesn’t tell you how poorly you pronounced each of those words, too infatuated to care as he leans down, lifting his helmet enough to kiss your forehead. 

“I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

“Okay.” 

He uses his free hand to gently grab your chin, giving you one last kiss.

“I’ll see you soon.” Once he’s shut the closet door he slips the fail safe box under your bed. 

And just like that he’s out the door, on his way to the nearest shipyard. 

☆

It goes surprisingly smoothly. 

He’s only gone for about four days, he gets lucky as far as transportation goes, managing to catch a cargo ship going directly to the planet he’s looking for. He doesn’t recognize it and in all honesty he isn’t sure he’s ever been there but he finds the convert easily enough.

It took a bit of convincing but he got what he needed from the armorer and just like that he was catching a ship back to you with two rings attached to a thin chain around his neck. 

He’s eager to see you immediately after landing but he’s filthy from the trip so he goes to the cabin first, shedding his armor and clothes before stepping into the fresher. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t started taking care of himself more after meeting you. 

He’d avoided mirrors all together until you. 

He’d shave when his beard got unmanageable. He’d cut his hair when it stuck out the back of his helmet. And that was it. 

And then you came along and suddenly he was staring at himself in the dingy mirror he’s in front of now. The first day he realized he wanted to impress you he spent hours in the cabin fresher, trying to even out his facial hair, and give himself something that resembled a respectable haircut. He needs another one soon, staring at himself now he knows he’ll need to shave before he sees you but he can probably go a few more weeks without a haircut. 

He’s pretty sure you like his hair long, even if you’ve never seen it, that’s the only reason he hasn’t just buzzed it all, the way he’d normally do it. You’re always touching it. 

So he cleans up his beard before stepping into the shower, he’s in a hurry, scrubbing away the days of travel and grime. He finds a clean flightsuit and dons his armor as quickly as possible, his hair is still wet when he puts the helmet back on. 

He makes a beeline towards the castle as the sun sets, the promise of you drives him forward despite his exhaustion. 

He checks the library first, finding the nook to be empty. He goes to your chambers, if his count is correct you would have had dinner with Kodo yesterday, so if you aren’t reading you should be in your room. He’s pleased to see a nervous looking Leo outside your door, his eyes go wide as Din approaches. 

He stops a few inches away from Leodall, looming over him. 

“Everything went smoothly?” His voice is low and husky. His professional voice. 

“Yes, of course.” He’s pretty sure Leo is too scared of him to lie so he gives him a curt nod of approval. 

“Then you’re dismissed, thank you.” He really is thankful, despite his dislike for the twi’lek. He watches him scurry away before hastily pushing your door open, stepping inside to find you there. 

You’re laying on your stomach, a book laid out on the bed in front of you. A look of anger crosses your face when you look up, assuming you’d find Leo in the doorway but once you see him you’re sitting up, rushing over to him and wrapping your arms around him. 

“I missed you.” You mumble against his chest plate as he returns your embrace.

“It was only a few days.” He laughs softly as you look up at him. He’s just happy to be with you again. 

“That doesn’t mean anything, I still missed you.” With the way you’re looking at him it’s a wonder he doesn’t get on one knee right now. 

Instead he can’t help it as he yawns, he’d been in such a rush to return to you he’d barely slept during his trip.

“Are you tired?” Your brows furrow in concern as he shakes his head no. 

“No, I’m fine, I’m just happy to see you.” He’s about to lift his helmet to kiss you, but you frown and pull him towards the closet. He isn’t entirely sure he’s going to be able to properly fuck you in this state but he’ll make it work. As you shut the door he starts taking off his armor and you turn to help him, carefully removing each piece until he’s in just his flight suit and helmet. You gently put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him down to the floor before kneeling beside him. He puts his hands on your waist and is a little surprised when you tenderly pull them away. 

“Lay on your stomach.” You tilt your head to the side and he’s about to argue but you click your tongue and point at the blankets. “I let you disappear for a few days with no questions, you owe me, now lay down. And take off your flight suit.” 

With a reluctant groan he does as he’s told, sliding his flight suit down to his waist, his confusion only growing as you straddle his back. His bewilderment vanishes though as he feels your hands kneading his shoulders. He’s about to flip himself over and tell you he’s fine but as he opens his mouth to complain you dig the heel of your palm into his back and instead a moan slips out. 

He doesn’t make much of a fuss after that, letting you methodically take care of the many knots and tense spots across his back. 

He turns his head to the side, closing his eyes as you hum a song to yourself, caressing and kneading every inch of visible skin until you’re satisfied. He feels you lean down, planting a kiss along his spine before climbing off of him and laying down beside him, he sits up with another rather embarrassing moan. He’s trying to flip you over to do you as you laugh, pulling him back down to lay with you. 

“You need sleep.” You once again catch him off guard as he feels your fingers on the helmet release, the kiss of air accompanied by the click of the lamp as you remove his helmet, kissing his forehead. 

“I missed you too.” He whispers into the darkness, realizing he hasn’t said it yet.

“I know you did, now get some sleep.” You pull his head down against your chest, squeezing his shoulder as you do. He really is exhausted, he hadn’t realized until he was reunited with you that he doesn’t sleep as well without you. 

“I love you.” He sleepily mumbles against your chest. 

No one takes care of him the way you do. Your soft hands continue to rub his back as he succumbs to sleep. 

“I love you too.” He feels another kiss on his forehead as he exhales the last of his energy. 

If he wasn’t so tired he probably would have proposed right then and there. 

☆

Having the rings has made him a mess.

Anytime you do anything he just wants to ask. When you’d kissed him this morning, when you’d walked out of your room in a green dress grinning at him like you’d done it just for him, when you’d handed him the speeder maintenance book from before because you just knew he hadn’t read it last time. 

And right now, as you read like you always do, sitting beside him. 

Now more than ever he wants to ask. 

He had wanted so badly for it to be special. 

He was thinking of maybe doing it in the gardens some night, where he had kissed you for the first time. But you look exactly how he always wants you to look right now. 

Your face buried in a romance book with a smile dancing on your lips. 

Tucked away in the nook, safe from the world. 

“How much of the Mando’a book did you end up reading?” He plays with the edge of the page he’s on now, he’s been pretending to read again, unable to pull his focus from you. 

“The translation book? Not a lot.” He watches as you turn to give him a smile. 

“Do you know what riduur means?” He knows you don’t, but he can’t stop himself from saying it. 

“No, I don't think I learned that.” You close your book, staring at him curiously. 

“It means partner, or spouse.” 

“Oh. Okay…” Your eyes get a little bigger once he says that. 

He gives you a nod before looking back down at his own book, silently cursing himself out for not going through with it. He hadn’t realized that having rings made would make him fall apart every time he’s in your presence. 

You’re just so… perfect. Do you have to be so perfect? You learn his language and you respect him and you love him and you’re endlessly sweet. 

He just wants to keep you like this forever.

Safe and happy. 

That’s why he can’t help himself as he sets his book down, he fidgets with his helmet for a moment before turning off the modulator, he wants you to hear his voice without the filter, sitting up, he cradles your face in his hands. 

“Can I ask you something?” He whispers.  

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[simpingforjoel]

reading about the failsafe din built for the reader made my heart ache, I wish she’ll never have to use it!! 🥺💔 the way din is so hopelessly besotted with the reader is so sweet, he is simply PERFECT!!! 🤭🥰❤️

[604to647]

Always Tomorrow

1.8K / Javier Pena x fem!reader

Summary: Javier chooses an impossible new year's resolution.

Warnings: Longing, pining. Allusion to past relationship. Cigarettes.

A/N: A quick one for the same couple from Birthday Present and Photocopies; written for @beefrobeefcal's New Year, Same Pena challenge. Can be read as standalone, but if you follow them, this takes place ~a month after Photocopies (includes a few references to what happened in that instalment); there's a clue in here re: the truth about what happened if you squint, and if you squint a little less, some hope.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘/ Should I make this an official series/collection and make a masterlist?

“So, you fellas make any new year’s resolutions?”

The Ambassador’s seemingly innocuous question slices through the curls of smoke swirling upwards from the overflowing ashtray in the centre of the conference table and causes Javier to stiffen.

“To put the lid down on the toilet.  Connie’s request,” quips Steve.  The joke is a bit too juvenile and lighthearted for the serious nature of today’s debrief on Search Bloc’s updated strategy for the new year – both Murphy and Crosby’s resulting laughter is superficial, perfunctory.  Javier remains silent, pensive – preoccupied by both the myriads of tactical plans and diagrams spread across the table and his own answer.

“What about you, Agent Peña?”

He wants to glare at the older man.  Spit out his new year’s resolutions with the same soul-eroding venom it took to make them in the first place and watch as the Chief of Mission absorbed the acidity behind their meaning:

To stop being such a creep and stay away from you.

Even now in this very moment, Javier’s failing at his resolve; covetous eyes instinctively drawn to the hypnotic sway of your hips in that dress of yours that always made his heart skip - you’ve appeared out of nowhere, as if Javier’s very thoughts conjured you. He only wishes he held such a power.

Sauntering into the boardroom, your graceful but decisive steps bring you straight to the Ambassador, to whom you hand a folder and whisper your purpose.  Does Javier unwittingly lick his lips at the sight of your plush pout fluttering open and closed?  Only Murphy notices.  Is Agent Peña imagining how the warmth of your sweet breath might feel on his neck if he were on the receiving end of your quiet words?  He is.  The ever present regret in his heart reminds him that there was a time when he didn’t have to imagine.

He's jolted out of his daze when you brush past him and Steve with a professional but friendly, Agent to each man.  Even the curt moniker sounds like a song in your angelic voice - Javier closes his eyes, an attempt to slow down time and soak in your melody a little longer.

The bounce of your hair, held back prettily by silver hair clips he gifted, floats your fragrant shampoo behind you and Javier inhales it greedily – the sweet smell instantly transporting him back to when he would breathe it fresh from its source; nose buried your hair as you curled up, sated in his arms - your naked body still warm from the shower entangling with his in the once crisp, now damp sheets of your shared bed.

“Peña?”

Mierda. So much for not being a creep.

“My new year’s resolution?  To catch Escobar.”

“Good man,” a supportive palm is clasped onto Javier’s shoulder as the Ambassador turns back towards the paperwork on the table.

Yeah right.  A good man would leave you alone, not invent the flimsiest of excuses to walk past the window next to your desk every chance he got just to catch a glimpse of you.  A good man wouldn’t try to time his arrival at work to coincide with yours, marking the time he shares your same air in the elevator as the most blissful thirty seconds of his day.

Well, I’m not a good man, concedes Javier, but I am NOT a quitter either.

Too many hours later after the briefing finally concludes, Javier purposefully takes the long way back from the conference room to the DEA’s office so he can walk by your department.  He’s checking his watch after noticing that your desk sits empty, your belongings gone, when he spies the pretty shape of you disappear down the hall and around the corner towards the elevators.

Without even thinking, Javier breaks out into a sprint so he can slip into your elevator just as the doors start to close.  The elevator is packed with embassy staff eager to leave work; though the DEA agent cannot see you, he can feel you.  Javier’s shoulders sag in relief just to be this close to you again.

When he exits on the main floor, Javier walks swiftly towards the front doors – pretending that going out for a cigarette had been his intention all along.  He’s just lighting up when you fly past him and down the embassy steps towards your waiting car.  He adores you from behind - you're oblivious to him memorizing the curl of your fingers in the handle of the opening car door and the grace with which you slip in the backseat. Ever unaware of your admiring audience, the chime of your greeting to your driver rings loud and joyous even from where Javier stands.  For the second time today, Agent Peña closes his eyes to replay your voice in his mind – taking a deep drag of his cigarette as he does so; the twin high from having been in the vicinity of your being, your voice, your smell and the nicotine making him slightly lightheaded.

“Don’t most people quit cigarettes for their new year’s resolution, Peña?”

Opening his eyes, Javier sees one of his CIA counterparts standing next to him, chuckling as he himself pulls out his own pack.

“Nah.  I like a challenge for my resolutions,” Javier half jokes.

“Oh yeah?  How’s it going so far?”

Not sure if he’s happy or resigned at the truth, Javier confesses, “Failing miserably.”

“Well, there’s always tomorrow, buddy.”

“Yeah, always tomorrow,” agrees Javier, wistful - his softened eyes following your car as it leaves the embassy grounds.

You

When you walked into the big conference room to update Ambassador Crosby on the Columbian-US trade fluctuation analysis he had asked for, you weren’t at all offended that he didn’t include you in the new year’s resolutions conversation.  The man had already engaged you in what seemed to be his current go-to small talk topic earlier this morning over breakfast.

You had answered something believable about procrastinating less, improving your Spanish, to which he had approvingly nodded.

Your actual resolutions for the new year are for you and you alone:

To break though to Javier Peña and make him confess the truth to you.

After your run in with Javi in the photocopier room a month ago, you had forced yourself to push past the hurt of having his betrayal thrown in your face and sat down to really contemplate the interaction.  His soft confessions, vulnerable and pure, were so reminiscent of the Javi you had loved – the man who had so much compassion and empathy in that hidden heart of his that whenever he felt safe enough to lay it bare, it couldn’t help but overflow.  Further tearing down your already crumbling walls was the memory of his kisses - they had melted you near instantly, your own lips as desperate and wanting as his to be reunited.  And his eyes - the look in Javi's eyes that day had threatened to drown you with the intensity of devotion and love that you saw storming within.

For a brief moment, your Javi had returned to you. 

And then you think back to your birthday and the thoughtful, considerate gift he wanted you to have but never took the credit for.  So characteristic of the man to give and give, never taking anything for himself.

It had been the same when the two of you were together before.  You let yourself revisit the times you felt the safest, cherished, understood while you were in Columbia and they were all moments spent in the rough agent’s arms.  He had given you patience, kindness, and tenderness – his everything; not once did he demand anything in return, though Javi would never admit that he yearned for the same. You saw through his facade easily and showered him with your support, comfort, calm – all given freely and without reservation; and for that, he had loved you fiercely.  He had known you and you had known him, the real Javi beneath his gruff exterior armour.

Something he said that day in the photocopier room struck you as odd:

You deserve someone who can give you the best things in life.  You deserve someone better than me.

Those were not Javier Peña’s words.  After everything you had shared with him about your upbringing, your family and your complicated feelings about legacy and privilege, he would know that those words could never hold any weight with you.  Then why did he say it?  Whose words were they?  You don’t know but you think it’s the key to figuring out why Javi is pushing you away. 

After that horrible night when you ran from the heart shattering scene in his apartment, you became convinced that your relationship and the Javi you had fallen in love with had both been a lie.  A ruse to add you as another notch on Javier Peña’s already heavily laden belt.  But the thoughtfulness of his birthday gift and then the sincerity and emotion that radiated from him during your brief reunion last month had you reconsidering that premise.  Your Javi exists, you know it.  He’s in there, locked away, and you think he still loves you.  You think you still love him, too.

So, you decided you would draw him out. 

You pretend not to notice when he walks by the window next to your desk more than anyone could possibly need to, but make sure to be there as much as possible whenever he’s in the office.  You ask people to come to your desk instead of going to theirs whenever you're needed; you trouble the embassy catering staff to bring you coffee instead of going yourself to the breakroom.

You wear the clothes he loved best and always, always the silver bird barrettes he gifted you in your hair.  You’re generous with the perfume and shampoo you know he associated with your signature scent and waft by him as often as you can.  Today, for example, you could have easily left the analysis on the Ambassador’s desk, but you knew he could be found in a DEA debrief, so you went there directly instead.

You keep your schedule regular and your arrival and departure times punctual, allowing yourself to be easily found should Javi so choose.  Every morning you feel a little closer to victory when he seems to magically step into your same elevator.  At the end of today when he narrowly avoids being smushed by your closing elevator doors, you beam at the backs of the other embassy staff that stand between the two of you. 

Even as you flounce down the embassy steps past Agent Peña’s broad-shoulders, you feel his eyes - you don’t need to turn around to know that he’s watching and listening, and that thought alone warms you. 

Your heart sings affectionately in your chest. I’m going to keep reminding you of me so you don’t forget, you promise silently.  Come back to me and tell me the truth, please, Javi.

As your car pulls away from the curb, you driver engages you amiably, “So, Miss, how are your new year’s resolutions coming along?”

“Slow going,” you answer honestly, “but I am NOT a quitter.”

“Good for you! Just remember, there’s always tomorrow.”

“Right, always tomorrow,” you agree, feeling hopeful when you look back through the tinted rear window and see Javi’s puppy dog eyes following as you drive away.

Thank you all so much for your support of this Javi and his Pretty Bird, especially @milla-frenchy, without whom I may not have written any more of their story. 🥹🥹🥰 Tagging a few lovely people who left me kind words on Photocopies 😘😘: @greenwitchfromthewoods @axshadows @sunnytuliptime @joelmillerisapunk @professionalpromqueen

@ad23900 @galway-girlatwork @inept-the-magnificent @harriedandharassed @aurorawritestoescape

@desuidesu @littlemisspascal @jobean12-blog

[simpingforjoel]

aaawwwe these two lovesick and heartbroken fools are truly a match made in heaven, I just want them to finally find their way back to each other!! 🥹🫂❤️‍🩹

[604to647]

In my brain they are living happily ever after in NYC and remain stupid in love - I hope to write it one day!! But recently I wrote a domestic!Javi for a challenge and in my heart, I wrote it for them 🥹🥹 Thank you for reading them, my lovie!!!

[simpingforjoel]

I LOOOOVE that idea and now it lives in my brain too!! I saw you had wrote more of them and I can’t wait to read that fic too!! thank YOUUU my darling for sharing your amazing stories and talent with us!! 😍🥰😘

[cozymochaa]

EARNED IT

Part 1 of 2 | Harry Castillo x f!reader

summary: Harry is a man who always needs control. But when you come along, the lines between lust, obsession, and love start to blur, and he gets the urge to let go completely.

contents/warnings: Explicit (18+ MDNI!) - fifty shades of grey vibes, AU, banter, playing hard to get, age gap (nearly 30 years… oops), Harry is a playboy, mentions of sex workers, longing, obsession, possessiveness and jealousy, dark romance (??), learning to love, one face slap, angst (i cannot be stopped), some description of reader (long enough hair to put up, sex on legs according to Harry), no uses of y/n. Apologies if I missed anything.

smut tags: m!masturbation, overstimulation, impure day dreams, dirty talk, dubcon (??), unprotected sex, a few ass slaps, rough sex, sex contract, exhibitionism, aftercare (kinda), the red room 😛, sex toys

wc: 9600+ (oops)

a/n: my entry for @time-for-my-weekly-spanking 's 2026 kinky challenge (i chose age gap for my husband Harry). biggg thank you to @mcthsman for proofreading and helping me edit this! love you lots 🤍 (more notes at the end)

᯽ part 2 | soundtrack | read on ao3

Harry Castillo is a man of power. He works for the private equity business that his mother started up when she was younger, and he owns the most businesses out of anyone there. Besides his mother of course. 

The Castillos have never been afraid of money. Hell, they bathe in it every night. Because of this, Harry isn’t afraid to spend a pretty penny on a woman. Except he hasn’t found someone that actually deserved it.

Sure, he’s had his fair share of women — none that he’s ever been photographed with. A list extending from women he’s worked with to sex workers. But no one has interested him long enough for him to think about any type of future with them. He’s not necessarily proud of his ways, but it’s a big stress relief for him.

Control is a necessity in all parts of Harry’s life — including in the bedroom. These women willingly submit themselves to please him in whatever way he desires. Of course, Harry still respects them and makes sure they’re properly taken care of. After all, he’s not a dick. He just thinks with his. 

Harry is currently on a phone call in his office. Something about a leak that was reported in a recent building he bought. To be honest, he tunes out the man on the other end about halfway into the conversation.

“Yeah, I’ll look into it,” he says, exasperated as he waits to end the phone call sooner rather than later.

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Castillo. Have a good—“

The man’s voice dies out as Harry puts down the phone, effectively ending the conversation before the man could finish his thought. He slumps back in his chair, running a hand down his face. 

Crown Castillo has been the busiest and biggest it’s ever been. The annual New Years gala is in a few weeks, and his mother wants him to have a date for it. Harry could get any woman he wants for it, really. But he has been getting tired of that life. He is well into his fifties and coming to terms with the fact that he might end up alone.

Just then, his assistant, Rick, knocks on his door. “Come in,” Harry calls out, sitting up straight in his chair.

The door slowly opens before Rick steps in, “Mr. Castillo, there’s a woman here to see you. Something about the photography at the gala.”

Confusion stretches across Harry’s face before he tells Rick to let her in. He wasn’t aware of any meetings with a photographer, but he’d see what they needed.

What Harry doesn’t expect is for you to walk in: younger, long hair that went down past your shoulders, soft skin, black blazer, black skirt that stopped at your mid thighs, and the expanse of your legs being covered by sheer stockings. 

Fuck, you’re a sight.

Standing up, Harry buttons the middle of his suit jacket. “How can I help you, ma’am?” he asks with a small nod.

You wait for his assistant to close the door before you walk up to Harry’s desk. Extending out your hand, you introduce yourself. Your hand is practically swimming in his as he gives you a firm handshake.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he says before gesturing for you to sit in one of the chairs across from his desk.

“My business was called about taking pictures for your upcoming New Years gala. They sent me out to confirm with you. Make sure everything is exactly the way you want; the pictures you want taken of the venue, the people – the food even.”

Harry watches your lips move as you talk, subconsciously licking his own while he takes in your words. He hadn’t been aware that there would even be photographers at the gala this year, so this must’ve been his mother’s doing.

He clears his throat, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I was made aware about any of this. You might’ve been looking for my parents, not me.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Your parents?”

“It’s a family business,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. As if Crown Castillo isn’t the wealthiest private equity firm in the U.S.

“Ah, I see,” you nod slowly, “So who do I speak to then?”

“Well,” he rounds his desk, moving to stand in front of you, “if you were looking for a ‘Mr. Castillo’, that would be my father: Emiliano.”

You nod once, taking in the information and correcting the form you brought in. As you build up the courage to ask, you place the end of your pen between your lips, drawing Harry’s gaze towards them once more.

His gaze darkens, hands tightening on the edge of his desk until his knuckles are nearly white.

“Do you mind showing me where your father’s office is then?” you finally ask, putting down your pen and meeting his eyes.

Harry would normally tell someone who asked for directions to ask his assistant, but something about you draws him towards you. His body craves a little more time with you, even if it’s just for five more minutes.

“Sure. This place is easy to get lost in,” he huffs out something close to a laugh.

He gestures for you to walk in front of him, getting a small whiff of your perfume. It’s something subtle, sexy and sophisticated, causing his slacks to feel a little tighter and uncomfortable. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so easily affected by a woman, let alone one he just met.

As he holds the door open for you, he allows his eyes to travel down the back of your body, getting a good view of your ass before he walks in front of you.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease him lightly as the two of you walk in unison.

Harry feels heat creep up his neck, wondering if you felt his heavy gaze on you or if you’re referring to his manners. “Yeah,” he says gruffly before he clears his throat, “I’m not as big of an asshole as they say I am in the press.”

Your brows knit in confusion at that, “The press?”

He freezes in his tracks, making you stop as well. The stare he’s giving you is almost like he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are narrowed, mouth slightly agape as he reads you.

Your pulse picks up under his intense stare. Chest rising and falling a bit faster before he speaks. “You don’t… know who my family is?” he asks in disbelief.

“Am I supposed to?”

“I… guess not,” he says quietly, brushing it off before he continues walking.

You stand there, trying to process what just happened before you trail behind him. 

“Sorry if I offended you, Mr. Castillo, but I’m not really into the whole… business world of things. I’m sure you and your family have plenty of fame. I just don’t know anything about it.”

Immediately you realize how much you’re rambling when Harry doesn’t even bat another eye at you. His expression is stoic as he walks, keeping his eyes trained forward. You got a sense that you would ruin this deal if you kept talking, so you stayed quiet for the rest of the walk.

After another minute of walking past the most expensive and busiest people you’ve ever seen, the two of you stop in front of an office door that reads: Emiliano Castillo.

“Thanks for walking me here,” you murmur once he turns towards you.

There’s the faintest hint of a fire burning behind Harry’s eyes. So faint that you aren’t even sure if you’re really seeing it.

“Guess I’ll see you soon,” he states, his voice a little rougher than it was before. 

You’re not too sure why, but your skin prickles at his tone. Goosebumps spread across your arms as you look up at him.

“See you soon, Mr. Castillo.”

With that, he walks away, leaving you alone to talk to his father.

Harry Castillo was a man of power, and he was slowly losing it with you. After leaving you, he makes his way to the men’s restroom, locking the door behind himself before he steps into a stall. The heavy ache between his thighs becomes too much, and his erection is noticeable. He needs to do something about it quickly.

The second the sound of him unbuckling his belt echoes within the four walls of the restroom, he knows he is going to regret this. He pulls out his throbbing cock with a small hiss before spitting on his hand and fisting himself.

He works his wrist at a steady pace, tipping his head back in ecstasy as his thoughts drift to you. He imagines hiking up your short skirt and bending you over his desk, or fucking you against the floor-to-ceiling windows in his office.

God, he just knows you’d make the prettiest noises as he fucked you into oblivion. He’d make sure to drag his cock within the deepest depths of you, making you and your pussy sing. 

Just the mere thought of it has him thrusting into his hand faster, fucking his fist until he creams all over it. He shudders through his orgasm, vision going a little blurry around the edges, causing him to place a hand on the stall door to keep his balance. 

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever cum like that just from the thought of someone he barely had five minutes of interaction with. No, this is something entirely different, and he isn’t completely sure about what it was exactly. 

After all of that, there’s one thing Harry knows for sure: You’re his, whether you know it or not.

Setting up the gala with the coordinator has been… eventful. You’re not even completely sure if he was actually listening to your advice or if he was just staring at your tits. Perhaps the dip of your dress was a little too far down your cleavage, but it isn’t your fault that men act like pigs around you.

The venue is beautifully decorated and you’re sure you are going to get some gorgeous shots. Diamonds dangle from the ceiling in forms of chandeliers, reflecting off of the tall walls covered in expensive art. You had an inkling that the Castillos were rich, you just didn’t know how rich.

Right at 7PM, guests start to pile in. Women wearing diamonds and gold around their necks, wrists, and fingers. You’re guaranteed that if you sold this building and the people in it alone, you’d make a lot of money. But you aren’t here to think hypothetically, you’re here to do your job, and you’re going to make sure the photographs are up to both your boss’ and Emiliano’s standards.

Guests mingle, drinking punch, eating the appetizers that were set out, some checking out the art, but the Castillos are still nowhere to be found. It’s nearing 8:30 and Gavin — another photographer — is starting to get antsy. 

“We’re supposed to get a shot of them coming in,” Gavin says through his teeth, letting out an exasperated breath.

“They’ll be here,” you murmur, your eyes focused within the camera lens.

You’re watching the guests through your camera, always ready for the perfect shots. A happy couple smiling, the camera flashes. Guests looking up at the art, another flash. 

When one head snaps towards the door, so does your camera, and you don’t hesitate to take the shot of the family walking in. The lens whirs as you zoom in on the parents alone, and then the brothers.

It’s almost automatic when Harry feels a camera on him. His gaze finds you in the crowd after the picture is taken, and you lower the camera just slightly to catch his eyes. His eyes travel down your body before he tips his head slightly towards you. Immediately, you feel your skin heat up.

He is clad in a tailored black suit, broad shoulders stretching out his suit jacket so much that you could hear the fabric begging for mercy from where you stand. A white handkerchief folded neatly in the pocket of his suit jacket, black slacks down his legs. 

You could already tell he was a big and broad man. Probably manhandling every woman he’s ever been with. 

“Did you get the shot?” Gavin asks, pulling your attention away from the man across the room.

“I got it,” you nod slowly, taking a few more just for good measure.

Harry’s gaze still hasn’t moved from you, and for a brief moment, you wonder if this is how mice feel underneath a microscope. Their little bodies squirming as they’re being examined and experimented on against their will.

“You better fucking have,” Gavin states before he walks away from you.

Ignoring his comment, you take more pictures of Anastasia and Emiliano walking up to the small makeshift stage by the speakers. A microphone stand sits idly on it, waiting to be used for announcements. 

You may not be looking at Harry, but you can still feel his gaze on you. Briefly, you wonder what he’s thinking about, but then his father starts speaking.

“May I have your attention ladies and gentlemen. It is with great honor that I thank each and every one of you in this room tonight. My wife’s business would not be as successful as it is without the help of you all. We are extremely grateful for your commitment and dedication to the place we call home: Crown Castillo.

Friends, family, employees – all of you are important and valuable. All of our hands keep this place up and running, and that is what a found family is. I hope we all continue to have each other’s backs during the years to come. And please… enjoy yourselves tonight, and don’t forget that all the funds collected tonight are going towards charity.”

Emiliano and Anastasia raise their glasses of champagne before Ana continues, “To the Crown Castillo family.”

Everyone raises their glasses, repeating her words and going back to mingling. A handful of cameras flash, you and your coworkers getting hundreds of shots for the family and company. The more lively the photo, the better. You’ve learned over the years that these kinds of people appreciate the ‘vibe’ of the pictures more. If they look united, they’ll love the photos. 

You lower your camera, checking all of the photos you’ve gotten so far before a man walks up to you. “Excuse me,” he says, placing a hand on your bicep to get your attention. 

You look at his hand before you look up at him, “Can I help you, sir?”

He extends his hand out, introducing himself, “Lucas Taylor, Taylored Photography.”

Extending your hand out, you stare at him. He’s a recruiter, no doubt. With a company name that doesn’t even sound familiar to you, and you know all of the photography companies in New York. Emiliano didn’t tell you about another photographer being here, so you’re a little confused.

“I must say,” he puts his hands in his pockets, straightening his posture, “the photos you’ve taken thus far are beautiful.”

“How would you know?” you query, “You haven’t seen them… Lucas.”

He chuckles softly at your retort, nodding, “You’re right.” The heated look he’s giving you isn’t very subtle, and it makes you a bit uncomfortable. “I just wanted to tell you how breathtaking you look in that dress, miss…” Lucas trails off, trying to get you to tell him your name.

You press your lips into a fine line, getting ready to open your mouth, but Harry steps in next to you, placing a hand on your lower back. “You’re a little close, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I,” Lucas stammers, chuckling sheepishly, “I was just complimenting her on her-”

“I’d advise you to leave,” Harry states, his voice cold and calculated as he stares Lucas down.

Harry has a good few inches on Lucas, so he shrinks into his skin, murmuring something under his breath as he walks away. Immediately, you step away from Harry, the warmth of his hand leaving your back and sending a cold shiver up your spine.

“I didn’t need saving.”

“Really?” he draws out with a raised eyebrow, putting his hands in his pockets, “‘Cause it seemed like you were dying to be saved.”

His tease makes you narrow your eyes slightly, “I appreciate the act, but I can handle myself, Mr. Castillo—”

“Harry,” he corrects you, “I think we’re well past the formalities now, don’t you think?”

“What, because you ‘saved’ me?” you retort.

“That’s exactly why,” the corner of his lips tug up into a small smirk, making you roll your eyes.

“Look, I’m trying to do my job for your father. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to it now.”

Harry chuckles fondly, watching you raise your camera back up to your eyes. You have a good work ethic, which he admires. But he also wonders if you ever took a break and truly winded down. There’s a huge chance that you don’t do anything remotely close to what he does to wind down, but he feels the need to push your boundaries.

Throughout the night, his gaze keeps landing on you. Watching you mingle with guests, take pictures, talk to his parents, and sip your own glass of champagne. There’s just something so intriguing about you and how you carry yourself. It’s not surprising that he’s thinking with his dick first, but he feels some sort of pull towards you. Like something within the both of you is calling out to each other.

It’s been weeks. 

Harry hasn’t been able to get you off his mind. He doesn’t think he’s ever fucked his fist as often as he has lately. He’s done it at least four times today, and he’s painfully hard again, but he can’t wrap his hand around his cock without hissing. 

You’re taking over his mind, and you haven’t even really done anything. 

He’s looked up the photography company you work for to see if your number is anywhere on it, but the website only has the owner’s information on it. 

Asking his parents would be the easy thing to do, but he doesn’t want to raise their suspicions. They already hassle him enough about finding someone to marry, and he doesn’t need more of it.

As if the Gods were blessing him, he looks up from his desktop just in time to see you walking by. A black portfolio folder is in your arms as you walk swiftly towards his father’s office. You’re probably here to drop off the pictures, but Harry knows that his parents are out on a lunch date.

Without really thinking it through, he leaves his office, walking past the many cubicles while keeping his eyes trained on you. You’re on the opposite side and have yet to notice him, but he catches up to you just before you make it to his father’s office door. 

Just as you’re about to knock, Harry slides right in front of you, blocking the door with his broad frame. Your palm meets his chest instead of the door, causing warmth to bloom throughout his entire body.

“Hey you,” Harry says, putting his hands in his pockets like he wasn’t entirely in your way.

“Hi,” you reply tentatively, dropping your hand down to your side. “Is your dad here?”

“No, he’s out on lunch,” he averts your gaze for a moment, making eye contact with his assistant before he looks back down at you.

“Oh, I was told to drop off the pictures here,” you murmur, tucking your hair behind your ear as you take a step back. “I’ll just come back later—”

“I can look at them,” Harry says a little too quickly, clearing his throat and backing off the door, “I mean, this is my firm just as much as it is my parents’. Let me look at them.”

“Okay,” you draw out, handing him the portfolio, “Your dad can email me if you guys aren’t happy with the photos.”

“I’m sure we will be,” Harry states matter-of-factly, giving you a charming smile as he takes the folder from you. He holds it like it’s something sacred, “We can get this done now, if you want. Why waste more time on this?”

You ponder his request, biting the inside of your cheek. The instructions your boss gave you were to drop the photos off, get all information if changes needed to be made, get lunch, and come back to edit photos for another company. But with Emiliano gone, Harry is your best option right now.

Reluctantly, you agree, following him to his office. The look he and his assistant share isn’t lost on you as he closes the door, drawing the blinds as well, plunging the room in partial darkness as the sun spills in from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The cool leather quietly squeaks as you sit down across from his desk, watching him sit in his own chair and open the folder. He carefully studies each photo, not saying anything yet, but his dark eyes meet yours every now and then over the photographs. 

You shift under his heated gaze, crossing your leg over the other and sitting up straighter. 

Harry smirks faintly at your reaction, knowing he’s got you right where he wants you. “These look amazing,” he compliments, putting down the photographs to make eye contact with you.

You murmur a small thank you, intertwining your hands in your lap. “I’ll send them over to your father this afternoon so you guys can… do whatever you please with them.”

“And then we’re done?” he asks.

“And then we’re done,” you confirm, slowly nodding.

“So,” Harry starts, standing up to round his desk, “you won’t be working for my company anymore, right?” he asks, sitting on the edge of his desk – directly in front of you.

You can hear the frantic pulse of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. Though, you keep it strictly professional.

Harry’s eyes follow your movements as you stand, pressing his palms into his desk and looking at you with his big brown eyes. 

“That’s correct,” you confirm, straightening your posture and adjusting your suit jacket. “We won’t ever have to see each other again, Mr. Castillo.”

“Harry,” he corrects you again, “And who said anything about not seeing each other anymore?”

“I did.”

Harry huffs, shaking his head slowly, “You can be very disobedient. Someone outta teach you a lesson.”

Your eyes narrow by a fraction, taken aback by the sudden statement that came tumbling out of his mouth. “Is that what you tell all the women you sleep with?”

“I—”

“Women aren’t on this earth for men’s pleasure. We are people, and we have feelings,” you scoff.

Suddenly he stands, towering over you with his broad frame. But you don’t back down, standing your ground and looking up at him with a defiant look.

“I never told you anything about my sex life,” he states, his voice low.

“Aw, did I hit a nerve?” you pout, “I know you didn’t. I like to know the people that I work for, and it wasn’t that hard to find out about your… extracurricular activities, Mr. Castillo. Maybe you should make sure the women that you fuck are more tightlipped than they let on—”

Harry’s hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against the warmth of his body. You can feel his breath fanning over your face, his lips slightly agape as he stares down at you.

“Say one more thing,” he warns, eyes flicking to your lips momentarily. “I’m used to getting what I want, when I want it.”

“That must get very boring,” you tease with a tilt of your head. “You want me? Then earn it,” that’s all you leave it at before you step back from him, heading towards his office door. “Tell your father I said thank you for the opportunity,” a small smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, and then you’re gone.

Harry exhales harshly through his nose, running a hand through his curls as he’s left there: wanting you.

You gave him a challenge and he sure as hell isn’t going to back down.

Steam from your coffee mug curls around your laptop in lazy tendrils, patrons of the coffee shop chattering amongst themselves. The raised ceilings give the place a more open feel, the hissing of the espresso machines echoing throughout the building. 

Your friend, Samantha, sits across from you, telling you about her latest hookup. It’s some guy she met at a party a few months ago. They’ve been talking back and forth for a while and only recently decided to just bite the bullet and fuck.

She waves her hands around as she speaks, telling you in grave detail about the fun night she had.

“I think I blacked out at some point,” she mentions, prompting you to raise your brows in surprise.

“Jesus, Sammy,” you breathe out, astonished by the statement.

As the conversation goes on, she tries to press you into telling her about the last person you worked for.

“Have you heard from Harry?” she casually asks, earning narrowed eyes from you.

“Why would I have heard from him?”

“Because,” she draws out, lifting her coffee mug to her lips, “he definitely wanted to fuck you and you totally shot him down!”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “He’s just like every other rich asshole, Sam. He thinks he can walk all over people and expect them to polish his Italian shoes with their tongues. I don’t need anything like that.”

“So?” she shrugs, placing her elbows on the wooden table, “I bet he fucks like an animal.”

“Samantha,” you deadpan.

“What?” she feigns innocence, “He is a man that screams dominance in the bedroom. If you won’t get under him, I will.”

Against your will, a fire of possessiveness begins to burn in your gut, prompting you to narrow your eyes at your friend. She continues to talk, oblivious to the uneasiness you’re beginning to feel.

“It’s a crazy feeling being with someone that dominant and kinky,” she pauses, thinking. “Oo, maybe he has a sex dungeon—”

“Sam,” you shake your head once, “Enough.”

“I’m just saying,” her tone switches to something lighter, “maybe you’re missing out on what’s right in front of you.”

“Or maybe I dodged a bullet,” you tilt your head to the side slightly. “He’s like… in his 50s, Sam. You do know that, right?”

She shrugs, “Just because the wrapper is wrinkled, doesn’t mean the candy isn’t sweet.”

You raise your brows, amusement spreading across your face as you let out an incredulous chuckle. “You did not just say that. Do I need to take your phone away from you?”

“Probably,” she grimaces, “But seriously, he wants you. I don’t think you should let that go to waste.”

You press your lips into a fine line, hearing the murmurs of the cafe die down. Everyone’s gazes collectively fall to a single person who walks in, reeking of luxury and money. Like a moth to a flame, Samantha’s eyes lift as well.

You bite into your toast, the crunch a lot more audible than it should be in a busy cafe in New York. 

“Oh my God,” your friend murmurs, causing you to look up at her.

“What?” you ask, putting your hand over your mouth as you chew.

“Expensive looking hottie alert,” she states, nearly making you choke on your food.

You wipe the corner of your mouth, turning to look over your shoulder at who’s caught everyone’s attention. The world slows around you, Harry’s dark eyes locking onto yours as his signature smirk pulls at his lips.

“Wait, isn’t that—”

“Yes, it is,” you cut Sammy off, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as Harry begins to stalk towards you.

“Ladies,” Harry greets, nodding once towards your friend before his gaze locks onto yours. He crouches down to your level, so close that you can feel his breath fanning across your face. “Hi,” he murmurs to you, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

“Hi,” you repeat his words, narrowing your eyes at him. “How the hell did you find me?”

Harry nods towards Samantha again, “Your friend posts a lot on social media.”

Of course.

“Look—“

“I just wanted to personally invite you to the Crown Castillo Black & White Gala,” he speaks lowly for your ears only. “But…” he trails off, reaching for a manilla envelope from the inside of his suit jacket, “I’d like you to look over something for me.”

“Is it regarding the photos I took?” you ask steadily, not looking away from his deep espresso eyes. 

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, drawing your eyes towards it. “Not necessarily, but it is business.”

You tilt your head to the side, “What—”

“Just think about it and have an answer by the night of the gala.” He hands you the envelope, standing up and straightening his suit jacket. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

The second you get to your apartment, the sound of the envelope ripping fills the empty space. You pull out a thick packet of white paper. The title page reads: “THE COMMENCEMENT DATE BETWEEN THE DOMINANT AND THE SUBMISSIVE”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you blurt out immediately.

Your thoughts start to swarm as you glance through the pages, words like sex toys, gags, and whipping sticking out to you.

He wants you to be his sex slave?

Did he listen to a single word you told him in his office?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you pull it out without thinking. A new email pops up on your lock screen, Harry Castillo being the obvious name as the sender.

The packet hits your kitchen counter with a sharp thud as you unlock your phone, quickly opening the email he sent.

“Good afternoon, I hope this email finds you well.”

You narrow your eyes at the first line before you continue reading.

“I hope you consider reading over the packet I left with you. Whatever you aren’t willing to do, I will accept immediately and set up a meeting to change them. Please read over everything. All I need is your written consent.”

You scoff, placing your phone face down on the counter, hands gripping the edge of it until your knuckles are white. Darkness envelops you when you close your eyes, your breathing picking up as you attempt (and fail) to process whatever the fuck you just read.

There’s no way this is real life, right? People don’t actually do this outside of movies.

Right?

The thick packet taunts you when you open your eyes, sticking out like a sore thumb in your peripheral vision. 

As the weeks go by, the contract sits untouched in your nightstand drawer. Harry emails you, but most of the time you don’t respond, earning desperate messages from him late at night. 

You don’t know what to think about the situation. Honestly, you thought everything you found out about him were all lies, but this seems pretty fucking real to you.

The night before the gala, you build up the courage to show up at his office. You briskly walk past the security, the packet held tightly against your chest as you reach for the elevator, repeatedly pressing the button for his floor until the doors close.

You exhale in relief once the security guards faces are no longer in view, leaning back against the back wall. Briefly, you look down at the contract again, the word submissive staring back at you.

That isn’t who you are. Isn’t who you were going to be.

You refused to bend yourself to a man’s will just to please him. It goes against everything you stand for.

The elevator dinging pulls you out of your thoughts, the doors sliding open to reveal his floor. It’s dark and quiet, nothing like the other times you’ve been here. Your heels echo in the space as you step out. 

Too loud. 

Too final.

You turn back around to leave but the doors close too quickly, sealing your decision.

A familiar voice calls out your name, you looking over your shoulder to see Harry’s assistant, Rick, walking towards you.

“Sorry,” you call for the elevator again before turning around to face him, “I shouldn’t have come here. I was just leaving—”

“Mr. Castillo will see you now.”

That catches your attention, the doors sliding open behind you and revealing the two security guards. Rick holds up his hand, signaling them away. “We’re fine here. She has an appointment.”

The men share a look, deciding it’s best not to say anything.

“Please, right this way, miss,” Rick beckons you to follow him.

You glance back at the two brawly men, figuring that it’s best not to get in the elevator with them since you technically just snuck into the building. Against your better judgement and your body screaming at you not to, you follow Rick to Harry’s office.

There’s nobody on the floor. Not even a single janitor in sight. It’s like a ghost town, or one of those horror movies that start off with a vulnerable woman left alone in an office building. Nine times out of ten, she ends up dead in her car.

Rick knocks on Harry’s closed office door twice before opening it. “Have fun.”

“Wait, you aren’t staying?” you ask quietly, watching him shake his head.

“I don’t work overtime.” With that, he gathers his things and heads back towards the elevator, leaving you alone with a stranger that asked you to be his submissive through a packet of paper.

You walk in slowly, noting that his eyes immediately dart down to your bare legs as he stands. He says your name, nodding in greeting. “I’ve been expecting you. Please, shut the door.”

Hesitantly, you close the door behind yourself, feeling like you’re sealing a deal without signing your signature.

“Why were you expecting me?” you ask, walking deeper into his office. The skyline of New York City gleams behind him, like diamonds against a dark sky.

He shrugs faintly, placing his hands in his pockets. “Women usually come around to these sorts of things.”

The statement nearly gives you whiplash, your fingers tightening around the contract before you toss it onto his desk with a sharp thwack.

“Is that what you think? That women want to be your little plaything?”

“It’s not about that,” Harry claims, rounding his desk to stand in front of you. “It’s more about… testing your limits. Seeing how far you’ll go, learning what pleases you—”

You hold out your hand, “I’m gonna stop you right there.” Harry goes quiet, allowing you the space to speak freely, “You tell me one thing, but the contract says another.”

“So you read it?” he asks.

“No, I only read the title page,” you explain. “Sex shouldn’t be a business deal. A relationship shouldn’t be a business deal.”

Harry weighs your words, rolling his tongue over his teeth. “I prefer the term fucking.”

“I didn’t ask.”

He chuckles faintly, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting on the edge of his desk. “If you want to change things in the contract—”

“No, you don’t get it,” you cut him off again, stepping closer, “I didn’t want it in the first place. Did our conversation in this very office just fly over your head?”

“No, it didn’t,” he claims, shaking his head slowly, “but I can tell that you want more from me.”

Harry stands slowly, closing the last bit of space between the two of you until you have to tilt your chin up to look at him directly. A faint smirk tugs at his lips, “What is it that you want? Money? Jewelry—”

“You can’t buy me, Harry,” you interrupt him. “I won’t sign your sex contract and I don’t want to see your face again.”

He nods once, “You came to my office at 9PM just to tell me that? Something you could’ve emailed me or told me over the phone.”

You roll your eyes.

“I mean, it’s a little much, don’t you think?” he asks.

“No, you’re right,” you take a slow step back, “Goodbye, Mr. Castillo.”

You turn around, exhaling through your nose as you begin to head for his office door. Before you can get too far, you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, spinning you around until you’re flush against his chest. The collision steals all the air from your lungs, hands instinctively coming up to steady yourself on his biceps. 

Harry’s breath mingles with yours, one of his hands coming up to cup the nape of your neck before he crashes his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

A sound of surprise leaves you, and without thinking, you push at him just enough to jostle him before your hand flies across his face. Your hand stings from the force of it, causing you to shake off the pain. Harry keeps his head turned to the side for a moment, his gaze dark when he looks back at you.

What you don’t expect is for him to spin the both of you around, sending everything on his desk flying before he bends you over it.

“Is this what you wanted, princess?” he rasps, breath hot against your ear as he hikes up your skirt.

“Harry—” a low moan cuts you off when he sucks at your pulse point, the rapid flutter of your heartbeat quivering in between his teeth.

He slips his foot between your legs, kicking them apart before he delivers a harsh smack to your ass. You jolt forward upon impact, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. He soothes the plush skin, rubbing his hand along the red spot that’s started to bloom from the force of his palm.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs in your ear, the metallic rattle of his belt unbuckling filling the office. 

“This is a bad idea,” you weakly protest. Though, you make absolutely no effort to move.

“Really?” he taunts, dropping his slacks and boxers in one go. “You’re saying one thing… but your body is saying another,” he repeats what you said in his own twisted way, peeling your lacy panties to the side.

The cool air hits your slick heat, sending a shiver throughout your body. You know this shouldn’t happen. Fuck, you shouldn’t have even shown up here tonight. But then he swipes the tip of his cock through your folds, parting them, smearing your slick as well as his precum. 

His hand is steady on your hip, the other gripping the base of himself as he repeatedly stimulates your clit with his swollen tip until your knees nearly buckle. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, “you’re so pretty.”

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you quip.

Harry chuckles darkly, shoving himself in, the stretch stealing the air from your lungs as you both moan in unison. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to his girth before he’s fucking you raw. The obscene slap of wet skin against each other fills the space of the office, his breathy grunts behind you stirring you on.

Push him back, you repeat in your head over and over again. It feels so right, like the Earth’s axis has finally shifted into place as your slick velvet walls greedily suck him in deeper. But you know this shouldn’t be happening – you worked for his family, he left a fucking sex contract with you, and he’s the most cocky son of a bitch you’ve ever met.

Not to mention, absolutely infuriating.

But he feels too good, angling his hips to reach parts of you that have never been touched before. You’ll get your fill just this once, you tell yourself, succumbing to the feeling of him splitting you open.

“Look at you,” he purrs, “taking my cock so well, baby.” Another gasp comes tumbling from your lips when he smacks the supple skin of your ass, watching it ripple with every deep thrust.

The ruthless pace has you mewling, arching your back until your arms are straight forward across the surface of his desk. Harry wraps your hair around his hand, using it to pull your head back and fuck you harder.

“Yesyesyes,” you chant, your jaw going slack, the sting of your hair being pulled, an odd but welcome sensation.

Harry’s other hand slides up to your waist, indenting his fingertips into your skin. “Is this how you like it?” he punctuates between thrusts, “I knew you’d be fucking perfect.”

For now, you ignore the comment, too focused on your pending orgasm and the roaring of your blood rushing in your ears. “Ohh, fuck,” you slur, feeling every ridge of his cock stimulate your sensitive spots perfectly – like it was made to ruin you specifically.

He groans, gritting his teeth as your walls squeeze his shaft. Without much warning, he hooks his forearm under you, lifting your upper body towards his. His hot breath fans over your ear, deep grunts telling you he’s just as affected as you are.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growls, tugging at your blouse until your tits spill free. Roughly, he takes one in his warm palm, massaging the soft skin and rolling your peaked nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

You lean your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when his hand leaves your waist to wrap around your throat. He squeezes gently, feeling the frantic pulse of your heartbeat under the pads of his fingers.

“Harry,” you whimper, heat pooling low in your abdomen as you near your peak.

“Shit,” he hisses, your walls pulsing and squeezing him just right. “You gonna come for me?” he rasps, slipping his hand between your legs to circle your swollen clit. 

Your vision goes blurry around the edges, incoherent moans toppling out of your lips as shockwaves spark through your body in fast-rising surges. Blood roars in your ears, your body threatening to double over, but Harry holds you tightly to his heaving chest.

He lets out a ragged groan, bending you back over the desk and pulling out just in time to release his thick, hot, white spurts of cum. He shudders through his orgasm, fucking his fist until he has nothing left to give.

The room stills, both of you breathing heavily from your equally intense climaxes. Your heart pounds in your ears, mind a little hazy and not fully coherent as you lift yourself up, palms pressing into the desk.

Harry pulls up his boxers and slacks, grabbing the box of tissues on his desk to clean up the mess he made.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks quietly when you don’t speak, watching you adjust your clothes and hair back into place.

“No,” you shake your head, turning around to face him, “it was good.”

He hums in acknowledgement, “So will I see you tomorrow night?”

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out just yet. Honestly, you hadn’t thought about whether or not you would go to the gala. What would you even do there besides accompany him and fulfill his… needs?

“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

Harry steps closer, closing the distance between the two of you and placing his hands on the desk behind you. This way, you have to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.

“You should go,” he murmurs, leaning in to press his plush lips to yours, giving you a tender kiss that you didn’t think he was capable of. 

Despite yourself, warmth blooms in your chest, leaving you wanting more. 

Everything feels wrong: your heels are too uncomfortable, dress too tight – too long, jewelry too heavy.

You felt completely out of place. This isn’t your crowd. You’re always the one in the back, a professional black dress and pumps on your body, camera in hand while you blend in with the wall. 

You’ve never been in the sea of people you take pictures of.

The building is 24 stories, drowning in exquisite taste and class – something you definitely missed the lesson on in school. Chandeliers scream money, reflecting off the lights and the diamonds dangling from women's necks. 

Soft jazz music fills the lobby, creating an alluring atmosphere that eases your nerves for the moment. 

A worker offers to take your coat, hanging it up with the rest when you give it to him. You feel exposed, anxiety rising once more now that your dress is revealed. It was a black off-the-shoulder dress, the back of it stopping in the middle of your back. 

Goosebumps sprinkle across your skin, shrinking you into your own warmth as you take cautious steps towards the grand double doors. Your heels clack on the marble floors, echoing in your ears.

Inside, classical music drifts through the air, strangers chatting too loudly and overlapping one another. 

What the fuck were you doing here?

This isn’t your scene and you’re already going against your morals – stepping out of your comfort zone because a man asked you to.

On instinct, you stick close to the back wall, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but also not wanting to intrude. 

Neither Harry or his family are anywhere to be seen, tempting you to leave before you’re noticed by anyone.

Servers pass by, not giving you a second glance as you practically hug the wall. One walks by holding glasses of champagne and you don’t hesitate to grab one, hoping the fizzy beverage will ease your racing heart.

It’s just a party, you tell yourself. Hell, not even a party, this could pass as someone’s fucking wedding reception.

Just before you burrow deeper into your inner turmoil, everyone goes silent – even the music. Someone on a microphone somewhere introduces the Castillo family and everyone claps. You look around for a moment, lost, before you tuck your clutch under your arm and clap along with them; careful of your glass of champagne.

“Happy birthday, Mrs. Castillo!”

“Happy birthday, Ana!”

People begin shouting out, the older woman laughing and wrapping an arm around her husband.

Harry invited you to his mother’s birthday party and acted like it was just another annual gala.

Jesus Christ.

After a while, you manage to make your way to the bar, successfully ignoring Harry to the best of your abilities. You don’t move from your spot until he disappears into the crowd and you’re 100% sure he can’t see you.

You order a vodka martini, downing it pretty quickly before you pop the olive in your mouth. The sting tingles your throat, causing you to clear it into your hand, ordering another one.

“There you are,” a familiar voice says behind you, placing his forearms on the counter. “You’re avoiding me.”

You stand up straighter, rolling a toothpick in between your fingers. “Am I?” you query, tilting your head to the side. “You don’t even know how long I’ve–”

“I noticed you the second I walked in,” Harry cuts you off, rendering you speechless for a second.

He chuckles when you don’t respond, another glass being replaced with your empty one. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“A little, yeah,” you murmur, nodding before you sip on your drink.

Harry watches your throat work when you swallow, his mind going to more impure places. “You wanna get out of here?”

You raise your brows, “Isn’t this your mom’s party?” you pause, leaning in and lowering your voice. “Y’know, I don’t appreciate how you blindsided me with that, by the way. I would’ve brought a present.”

He chuckles, straightening up and looking down at you. “Now where would the fun be in that?” he asks, pausing before adding, “Plus, you didn’t need to. My mom already adores you.”

Surprise flashes across your face before you remember that you worked with her and her husband – not just Harry. “Well, she was lovely to work for,” you murmur.

“So what do you say?” he asks, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Your skin tingles, not only from his tone of voice, but also from his proximity. In order to keep your sanity, you press your palm against his chest, pushing him just a bit. “Just because we had sex doesn’t mean that we’re together now.”

“Really?” he draws out, straightening up and placing his hands in his pockets. “So you’re not gonna go home with me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

The city of New York twinkles below, reflecting in your irises. There hasn’t been a time where you’ve seen the city like this: so high up and a lot clearer. 

“You can see most of the city from here,” you murmur to Harry once he steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and turning you around.

“Wouldn’t you rather look at me?” he teases, earning an eye roll from you.

“You do that a lot,” he points out.

“Do what?”

“Roll your eyes at me.”

A small smirk tugs at your lips, “And you’ve deserved it every single time.”

Harry’s hands tighten on your waist, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his body. “Have you thought about the contract anymore?”

Your expression falters, opening your mouth but nothing comes out. In your hasty escape from his office last night, you completely forgot about the contract. “No, because I don’t have it anymore. Plus, I already told you my answer.”

His eyes narrow by a fraction before he pulls you by your wrist, leading you up the stairs in his penthouse. 

“Harry,” you try to get him to stop, but he tightens his grip on your wrist.

“I just need you to see,” he states, stopping in front of a locked door and fishing the key out of his pocket.

The lock clicks, your heart races, practically in your throat as he opens the door. Lights slowly turn on, reflecting off of the deep red of the walls. Harry gestures for you to go first, and your breath catches in your throat when you step inside. 

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, your body going rigid, the shock evident on your face. 

A king-size bed sits in the middle of the room, gold hoops attached to the four bedposts. The walls look like a horrific murder scene, a wine red making everything seem more intense and unnerving.

“This is my playroom,” Harry announces.

Your eyes are wide, lips agape as you assess the sight in front of you. “Yeah, I can see that,” you breathe, “Jesus Christ, Harry–”

“Before you start,” he cuts you off, “just look around. Nothing in here can harm you, I promise.”

You glance at him sideways before he stands off to the side, giving you free reign to look around. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to figure out what you’re looking at. Hesitantly, you put one foot in front of the other, heels clacking against the hardwood floor.

The wall on your right is lined with various paddles and sensory toys. A rack of items you’ve never seen before sits in front of the bed, and without really thinking, you run your fingers through the rough material.

“That’s called a flogger,” Harry informs you, moving to hover beside you.

You snatch your hand back like you’ve been burned, suddenly remembering his reputation and the other women he’s most likely used this stuff on. Crossing your arms over your chest, you move on, examining the various cuffs and gag toys he has.

“Say something,” he murmurs, “Please.”

You take a deep breath, tilting your head back to look at the ceiling as you muster up the courage to even open your mouth again. Only, you realize that the expanse of the ceiling is covered in a metal grid system. Bondage is the first thing you think of.

You knew he was kinky, you just didn’t know how kinky… Until now, that is.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

This has never been something you’ve been remotely interested in, and now it is right in your face. 

Finally, you look back at Harry. “You do this stuff to women?” you ask, even though you already know the answer.

“Yes,” he confirms, “but everyone walks away happy.”

“H-How?” you stammer, some of your willpower returning to your body. “You’re a sadist.”

“Dominant,” Harry corrects you, earning an eye roll from you. “That right there,” he points at you, “If you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit for a week.”

“Excuse me?” you chuckle breathlessly, crossing your arms tighter across your chest. “By definition, you are a sadist. You get off on people’s pain.”

“It’s not that,” he states, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I told you: it’s all about testing limits.”

“Why?” you shrug, “Why would you want to…” you gesture towards the dangling whips on the opposite wall, “use these kinds of things on people?”

“For pleasure,” he answers like it’s completely obvious.

You shake your head slowly, “You can’t just enjoy regular sex like everyone else?”

When he doesn’t answer, you continue. “I don’t know what you want from me, but I sure as hell know that this isn’t a relationship.”

“I never said anything about a relationship.”

That’s what gets you. Your brows knit, an unfamiliar ache settling in your heart. “Then what the fuck are you doing with me?”

Instead of answering, he grabs a silk ribbon from a drawer, walking back over to you. “Hold out your wrists,” he instructs.

You glare up at him, and he senses your defiance. “I’m not gonna use them to force you into anything, I promise.”

To make sure he knows you don’t want to do this, you continue glaring at him as you slowly hold out both wrists. His signature smirk pulls at his lips, his hands deftly tying the red silk around you. Once tied, he tugs harshly, pulling a gasp from your lips.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No,” you whisper, meeting his eyes. “No, it doesn’t.”

“All the fear is in your head,” he voices firmly, letting the silk slip from your wrists.

A thought pops into your mind as you drop your hands to your sides. “If you want to… continue having sex with me, then why can’t we be together?”

“This is the only kind of relationship I associate myself with.”

Confusion stretches across your face, your brows furrowing as you try to see through his facade. He’s telling you one thing, but the way he’s acting is the complete opposite. He almost seems… obsessed with you; he hasn’t left you alone for months, he tracked you down via Samantha’s Instagram stories, and now he is trying to force a contract on you to keep you.

To you, it seems like he enjoys the thrill of the chase rather than anything else.

“How many women have you done this with?”

All you know is what you and your friend could find on the internet, and honestly, it wasn’t much. News outlets are very vague when it comes to Harry Castillo’s personal relationships, and it makes you curious.

He tosses the ribbon onto the bed, placing his hands in his pockets. “Let’s not go there right now.”

“Why not?” you push gently, closing the distance between the two of you, only for him to suddenly take a step back.

Oh, is all you can think as you stare up at him, trying to read between the lines of what he’s not telling you.

“How many?” you repeat your question earnestly, keeping your place.

Harry rolls his tongue over his teeth, “Twenty.”

“Twenty?” you breathe, all of the air leaving your lungs at once. “Christ, Fabio,” you joke, deflecting the situation.

Your mind swims within multiple questions.

Who’s to say that there won’t be twenty more after you?

How has his dick not fallen off?

Do you need to get tested?

The two of you fucked raw on his desk. You should definitely get tested.

Harry doesn’t laugh at your joke, his face remains serious. “It’s the way I am.”

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost scared of the answer.

His lips press into a fine line, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Abruptly, he grabs you by your upper arm, leading you out of the room and locking up behind the two of you. 

In the hallway, you can think clearly, not intimidated by the actual sex dungeon you were just in. You swallow thickly when he turns to face you, he seems steady but his eyes tell you otherwise. There’s the smallest hint of vulnerability in them, and it’s gone the moment you notice it.

“Be honest with me,” Harry says, “what are you thinking?”

You exhale sharply. What are you supposed to think after being shown that? It is the exact opposite of what you firmly stand on, but he seems set in his own ways.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, heading for the stairs. “That’s… a lot to take in,” you look over your shoulder, seeing that he’s following a few steps behind you.

“If you don’t want anything to do with me anymore,” he stops at the end of the hallway, looking down at you, “that’s completely fine.”

You know he’s not fine with it, but you appreciate the statement more than you’d ever let on. “I just,” you start, trying to find the right words as you process what he showed you, “I don’t think I can do that: bend to the will of someone else. That’s not me.”

He nods slowly, his eyes mimicking a puppy. It’s almost enough to make you change your mind.

Almost.

“I can’t be one of your girls – I won’t.”

part 2

a/n: i couldn't find anything like this so i wrote it myself 🌝 ive genuinely only been thinking about fifty shades since i watched it in december and Harry was the perfect character to write something related to those movies on. this isn't like anything else ive written so im stepping out of my comfort zone a bit here 😅 but i hope you enjoyed reading it. feedback is much appreciated! (part 2 soon i hope lmao)

᯽ tags: @missladym1981 , @kirsteng42 , @mcthsman , @petalsinblood , @rosharanfiction , @cherrycokeispunk , @cuteanimalmama , @harriedandharassed , @madpanda75 , @shadowqueen2024 , @picketniffler , @kokoluwie , @reedispunk , @umadirectioner , @katyispunk , @missadangel , @time-for-my-weekly-spanking , @missadangel , @stylesispunk , @milla-frenchy , @gothcsz , @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 , @sunshineflowersandkisses

dividers by @/angeliicide

looking for more .ᐣ masterlist | navigation

[simpingforjoel]

harry’s obsession with the reader is so DELICIOUS!! I love how the reader pushes back on him and fights to know him better in this!! 🫠🥵🔥

[cozymochaa]

im glad you enjoyed it bby 🤭

[simpingforjoel]

I must admit I’ve never watched the fifty shades of gray movies, but I know it in my bones I enjoy your version much more!! thank YOUUU my darling for sharing your immense talent with all of us!! 😍🥰😘

[sawymredfox]

The Small Things of a Whole

Drabble: A Song

Idk where this came from, but as soon as it popped into my mind, I had to write it. It was really fun to imagine this scenario and picture Frankie and Ben. I hope anyone who reads it enjoys it! Happy Pride people!

Thank you, @schnarfer, for always helping me and offering me the best song ever for this, Love Story by Taylor Swift. And to my friends, @milla-frenchy and @bergamote-catsandbooks, for letting me ramble as much as I wanted about these boys. Love you all!♥️

Part IV// Part V// Series Masterlist// Masterlist// AO3

pairing: Frankie Morales x Ben Miller summary: A night at a karaoke bar prompts a show of love word cound: 1200 tags/warnings: fluff, corny vibes, non-sexual intimacy, two boys in love being silly and besotted with each other

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Coming here, to The Shack, a karaoke bar, wouldn't have been Frankie's first choice, nor his second or third, but the decision hadn't been in his hands. He and Will had found themselves outnumbered, completely and absolutely. Outvoted, two to four, thoroughly defeated, standing alone while Hannah and Yovanna, Will and Santi's girls, easily persuaded Ben and Santi. It hadn't taken them much, just a couple of encouraging words and a promise of a good party- to support their proposal and attend tonight's special Pride karaoke night at the pub owned by a friend of a friend of Hannah. 

Frankie would have been happy to go to their usual bar, be surrounded by its familiar wood-panelled walls and sticky tables. But in the end he had relented, unable to say no to his friends and Ben's excitement, grumbling, for show more than anything else, alongside Will as they drove to the other side of town to the pub.

The bar has filled since they arrived. It's packed now. Full of people; friends and couples, dressed as they pleased, being themselves freely, proud of who they are, ready to enjoy the night, get loose, and sing. This all fills the place with a magnetic energy, a sense of aliveness that thrums, and Frankie can't ignore, he’s imbued in it.

He's sitting with Will at one of the tables in the middle of the bar, still fascinated by the people and the place, the dark walls adorned with band posters, the music filling the space, the disco balls swirling and creating kaleidoscopic dancing rays, and the colourful decorations, the hundreds of rainbow flags sprinkling the walls, ceiling and tables, lighting the place, making everyone feel welcomed and accepted, treasured.

"They are having a blast," Will mutters, smirking, nudging his beer bottle forward, signalling the rest of the gang on the stage, dancing together as they sing.

Frankie gazes at them, endeared by their behaviour, the joy brimming in their expressions as the realisation sinks in. He'd been so focused on his surroundings that his brain hadn't paid attention to the song they had chosen. Taylor Swift's Love Story. It's no longer a nameless sound, but a known piece, one he has a hunch Ben had brought forward, for he has heard him sing it at home enough times to learn some of the lyrics.

Santi's a bit apart from the other three. He's fumbling, trying his best, so concentrated on keeping up with the rhythm of the song that he doesn't notice how out of tune he is. The girls and Ben, though, are a whole different story. They are living the music, eyes closed, beaming faces, arms thrown over each other's shoulders, not needing to look at the screen to remember the song's lyrics, yelling more than singing, with such enthusiasm that the people at the bar are applauding and singing along with them.

“You know…” Will starts, “I was worried when you and Benny told us about your relationship. The selfish part of me feared what would happen to all of us if you two didn't make it. But also-" he sighs, taking a second to gather his thoughts, anxiously tapping his fingers against the table. "You two fit so perfectly. It feels like you are meant to be together. I was terrified of what a break-up could do to either of you,” he confesses, leaving Frankie stunned. He had been so happy for them from the first moment that Frankie hadn't realized he'd harboured such concerns.

"Not anymore?" Frankie asks as his feelings swell and tears gather around his eyes.

“No. If anyone can make it, it's you two. I've never seen a more well-adjusted couple in my life, apart from my parents." Will's admission soothes Frankie, as much as he's ready to fight for his relationship with Ben, their family's acceptance and support means the world to him.

"You and Hanna have something really good going on too," Frankie manages to say, swallowing the wave of emotion Will’s admission has caused.

"I hope so. I want to propose to her," Will sheepishly confesses.

"What! That's big, man! Congratulations!" Frankie clasps Will's shoulder, overjoyed for his brother.  

"Thank you, Fish,” he says, clasping Frankie’s shoulder back. “I might need some help picking up the ring."

"I'll be there," Frankie promises.  

"The thing is, I'm thrilled for you and Benny. And I really want you to know that,” he squeezes his hold on Frankie’s shoulder, wanting Frankie to believe him, before looking back at the stage. “Although, fuck man,” Will chuckles, staring at his brother. “I really hope you’re aware of the doofus you’re going to marry, because he’s on fire right now.” 

Frankie looks forward, in time with Ben, unashamedly pointing at Frankie and yelling his name, making sure everyone knows to whom he’s singing, getting more energetic and keyed up as the bar's hoots of approval get louder and louder.

"Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone 

I'll be waiting, all there's left to do is run 

You'll be the prince, and I'll be the princess 

It's a love story, baby, just say yes"

“Yeah,” he agrees with Will, staring at Ben as he sings for him, and a blush, deep enough to be seen under the bar's lighting, covers his cheeks.

"This love is difficult, but it's real 

Don't be afraid, we'll make it out of this mess 

It's a love story, baby, just say yes."

Frankie shakes his head in disbelief, gazing at his man, mesmerized and bashful at his performance, as the song reaches its final peak. He will never get tired of watching him, of falling for him over and over again.

Frankie can't stop his lips from curling, sketching a soft besotted smile on his face, aware of how he’s completely and absolutely doomed, smitten beyond salvation, happy to be so, thrilled. It's a smile Frankie doesn't need to hide, doesn't want to; certain that he's reciprocated with the same fervour, in love in a way he had always thought was a myth.

"Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone 

I love you, and that's all I really know."

Frankie's hand moves instinctively, crossing his index and middle fingers over his heart. It's a coded sign. A silent "I love you" that he and Ben share when the emotion is too big and overwhelming to say the words out loud. Ben returns the gesture instantly, keeping his palm covering his heart, making Frankie shiver with his voice, deep and baritone, undeniably male, and the intensity in his eyes.

"It's a love story, baby, just say yes."

Frankie doesn't need to think. He will always say yes to Ben, desirous of every new day, bad and good and ordinary, with him.

Part IV: A Good Morning

Npt! (because there was interest on my WIPs and people who read the other chapters and asked to be tagged!) @aurorawritestoescape @604to647 @sixhours @baronessvonglitter @simpingforjoel @arcane-fox @whocaresstillthelouvre @beefrobeefcal @tinytinymenace @time-for-my-weekly-spanking @thedilfdiaries @kokoluwie @missadangel @the-blind-assassin-12 @cozymochaa @littlepedrito @sin-djarin @speaktothehandpeasants @jessthebaker @rosharanfiction @maggiemayhemnj @littleredpandanaps @grogusmum @readingiskeepingmegoing @copperhalfcent @pedrit0-pascalit0 @maried01 @just-ashlee @iknowisoundcrazyreads

[simpingforjoel]

this is too precious, these two are so besotted with each other I’m going to cry of happiness!! 🥹🤭🥰

[frannyzooey]

Gratuitous Sex Scene

Summary: Frankie wants to take a shower with you.

Rating: Explicit

This is part of Box Set - see the other chapters here!

Walking in the door after work, Frankie calls out to you, announcing his arrival home. Tossing his keys into the bowl by the door, he pats his pockets down and dumps his belongs out: gum, wallet, phone. Hanging his hat up and toeing off his boots, he comes to find you, having never heard a response.

Padding down the hallway towards the bedroom, he hears the shower running – the steady stream of water gushing, a tendril of steam escaping out of the bottom of the door and he smiles, already pulling his shirt up over his head.

Keep reading

[simpingforjoel]

bossy frankie is such a hottie, I can't!!! 🥵🫠❤️‍🔥 (I need a cold shower after reading this)

[simpingforjoel]

spending my frankie friday thinking about how frankito is definitely the kind of boyfriend who will get hard just from a kiss on the cheek from his querida. imagine having to wait in the car for frankie to ”calm down” so you can leave for your weekly grocery shop. the blush behind the scruff would be so adorable!!

[rocketrhap3000]

freckle confessions

summary: confessing your feelings to frankie in a unique way...

warnings: none i think?? this is pure fluff! also this was an old blurb rewritten for frankie to help me ease into writing for him, because ive been dying to forever lol <3

masterlist

Warm bodies are tangled together under the sheets while the birds chirp peacefully outside. A lovely, golden-pink sunlight floods through the bedroom windows and past the curtains which ripple gently from the late summer, early morning breeze outside. Frankie is laying on his back beside you in all his glory, his broad chest on full display for you as your hand rubs over his baby soft skin. 

Laying on your side with your face just inches from Frankie’s solid frame, you drag a single finger from freckle to freckle, moving in a randomized route over the teeny specks littering the top of his shoulder and on the back of his arm. You smile, just to yourself, looking up at the man beside you and contemplating just how lucky you are.  

“What’re you doing?” Frankie finally speaks up with a soft, hushed chuckle, feeling the soft sensation of your fingertips, and wondering what your wandering finger’s goal is as his warm, umber eyes bore into yours from above.

“Doing… connect-the-dots,” you murmur honestly, yet avoid his gaze.

“With my freckles?” he laughs, leaning down and over to kiss the side of your head.

“Mhm,” you admit before gently pushing him up by the shoulder so that he turns over to lay on his side with his back to you. 

From contingent doodles, you instead begin tracing the words I love you on his back, invisibly connecting the little brown dots he has there, too. You copy those three words over and over and over again, seemingly lighter each time in fear he might catch on. 

You write the phrase in all caps, all lowercase, slanted, in cursive, any way you can. It’s what some would consider a risky game, but for now, it’s the bravest you’ll be and the closest you’ll get to saying the words out loud. 

“And what are the dots making, Querida?” Frankie coos, his voice slightly muffled now that he’s not facing you.

“You get three guesses,” you say quietly, hoping he guesses wrong and this all gets swept under the carpet until you can actually voice the real words to him.

“Is it a dog?” he inaccurately predicts.

“No,” you peep back.

“A house?”

“No,”

“Shoot, I don’t know,” he says with a small laugh. “Draw it again?” he pleads, so you trace the words lightly and quickly again for him. “A flower?” comes his next speculation.

“Nope. But I guess… well I should tell you: it’s not really a drawing. It’s letters,” you explain, writing the confession over his back in both mixed capital and lowercase letters this time.

“You’re spelling something out?”

“Mhm.”

“Tricky,” he teases. “Alright. Gimme three more guesses?” 

“Go for it.”

“S’it my name?”

“Nope,” you state, then write it out a final time. And this time, it’s slow and deliberate; you accept knowing that he might get it right. 

“Your name?” he guesses wrong again.

“Mm mm,” you hum in denial with a small sigh, now spreading out all your fingers over his back and rubbing the spot you'd just been writing on, as if to erase your workspace. 

“Dang. Well, I still have a final guess,” he says, then slowly turns around to face you. 

His smile is so comforting and his eyes display nothing but a deep passion for you. Your heart does a flip as he grabs the hand you had been writing on him with and kisses it before speaking up again. 

“I love you, too, Querida,” he whispers, letting go of your hand and instead cupping your face to place a sweet, soft, and slow kiss to your lips. Then, “did I guess right?” he asks, his pink, plush lips lingering just inches from yours.

“You’re good at connect-the-dots,” you speak bashfully, warmth flushing in your cheeks and butterflies dancing in your stomach as he leans in to kiss you once more. 

a/n: thank you so much for reading! reblogs and feedback are super duper appreciated! and if you enjoyed this fic and would like to be added to a taglist, fill out this form!

[simpingforjoel]

this was so soft and romantic, I’m giddy with happiness!! now I want to play connect the dots with frankie’s freckles too!!! 🥹🫠🤎

[bergamote-catsandbooks]

Love Hurts - Epilogue

Frankie x f!reader (reader has a past, some physical description and a backstory so she is more an OFC written as a reader insert )

Summary : A meet-cute in a bar turns into the beginning of a love story, until Frankie's demons collide with reader's past and trauma.

TW : smut (oral f receiving) and fluff. (If I forgot anything, please let me know)

WC : 750 (it's tiny)

A/N : So, this is the end. It's just a little something to say goodbye to these two. It's pure fluff. Because they (we) need it after last chapter.

I'm very happy (and proud) to have finished my first (mini) series. I hope you liked it, I sure did enjoy writing it.

I'm always happy for the comment and/or the reblogs, so please don't be shy !

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Previous chapter | Read on AO3

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Frankie, we're going to be late", you try to push him off of you, to no avail. Frankie is splayed on top of you, not totally crushing you, but almost, not moving.

"We still got time, let's stay in bed a little longer." His breath on you neck tickles you, giving you an idea. You pry your hands from under him and start caressing his side, until your light touch turn into tickling. 

"Hey ! You're cheating ! No tickling in bed" Frankie is wriggling on top of you trying to escape you torturous hands.

"I wasn't aware there were rules. And you do that all the times ! Rules are meant to be for everyone." You laugh while he's almost wrestling with you to stop you.

"Okay, in that case...", Frankie manages to grab both your hands, pins them above your head, and starts kissing you. The kisses are playful at first, nipping and licking your lips, then your jaw, until he finds you pulse point.

"That's not fair, you're not allowed to use sex to change the subject." You are a little out of breath as you say this.

"Yeah, well I believe you are the queen in that category. You're the one who keeps using sex to make me forget whenever you know you are losing an argument."

"How dare you ! I'm never wrong ! I never loose an argument" Your playful banter starts to heat up, and your voice, that you tried to keep stern, quickly becomes hushed by your pants and your moans as his kisses trail down your body, stopping by your breasts where they linger on each nipple, making sure they are hard, before going down your stomach. His hands let go of your own, and he slides them down your body, as his kisses continue their trip, before stopping once they reach their destination, somewhere between your thighs.

"Frankie, I need to take a shower and wash my hair, I don't want us to be late for Lucia's birthday."

"Don't worry baby, I can make you come in less then 5 minutes."

"Don't you want to take your tim–  Oh fuck, yes ! Frankie, right there." You forget everything you want to say and just enjoy the feel of his tongue and mouth between your thighs. He works wonders down there, knowing you and your body so well. And true to his word, in only a few minutes he has you babbling and gripping your pillow, your hands exactly where he left them, moaning his name until your orgasm hits you.

As you come back to your senses, opening up your eyes, you look at Frankie whose head is now on your stomach, his own eyes closed, caressing you gently waiting for you to catch your breath. Your hands detach from the pillow, one of them goes to his hair, your nails scrapping lightly his scalp, owning you a low moan from him, the other finds one of his, and your fingers interlock.

Your eyes wonder around your bedroom, looking at how well Frankie's belonging and yours fit together, like it was always meant to be this way. You marvel at this as you think about him moving in last month, only 3 month after his sobriety party.

Since that particular day, you have both talked a lot, deciding that communication should be the foundation of your relationship. And when you both realized how much love and trust you held for each other, and since you were basically spending every night together, it felt natural for him to move in with you, making it easier for him to save money for the house he will buy for him and Lucia, and maybe you.

There is still much that needs to be sorted out, with Lucia and her mother having moved in this city to get closer to Frankie just last month. But there is time to think about all of this, to figure out how all of you can fit as a family. And talking every thing through makes it easier, with Frankie, but also with Cecilia who you have so much respect for, and you think might become a good friend. Thinking back to all of this, you sigh, content.

After a few minutes of staying like this, happy to just be here together, in the moment, Frankie turns his head to look at you, a smile illuminating his face.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too, so much."

Thank you for reading this ❤️

tagglist (please let me know if you want to be added/removed) : @grogusmum @guiltyasdave @here-briefly @iknowisoundcrazyreads @javierpenaismyhusband @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @yxtkiwiyxt @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @goodwithcheese @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler

[simpingforjoel]

I’m over the moon for these two lovebirds having gotten their happy (and hot!!) ending, they’re so perfect together!!! I adore lovedrunk frankito!! 🥹🫠🥰

[slowdivinqs]

Altruism

Joel Miller x F!reader | No Outbreak AU | 18+ MDNI

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Summary : joel takes care of you after you’ve been overworking yourself for far too long.

w/c : 2,6k

Warnings : no use of y/n. sarah & ellie exist ( ellie is reader’s bio daughter ). oral & fingering ( f!receiving ). hand job. humping. dirty talk. praise. pet names. established relationship. soft dom! joel. small, unstated age gap (~9-10 years ). reader is a lawyer. domestic fluff. slight descriptions of reader not taking care of herself. reader has hair.

a/n : this one is just a personal indulgence, I hope all of you hard working angels out there enjoy and remember to take care of yourselves ♡.

masterlist | ao3

༺──────────────༻

The dull hum of the refrigerator is all that has been droning in your ears for the past two hours.

The words on your screen have begun to blur, but you told yourself you need to finish reading this case. So, therefore, it has to be done.

The microwave flashed 02:04 innocently, reminding you of the little hours of sleep you’ll manage to get tonight.

Why can’t people just stick to their contracts? You wonder petulantly. A part of you hopes to never see the word ‘obligation’ again, still knowing you’ll have to stare at it tomorrow and have the same thoughts.

Banjo’s leg kicks softly in his sleep, the Border Collie sighing where he’s resting against your foot. You groan and try to adjust yourself — comfortable as it is, your backside still aches.

You begin typing again softly, cursing your asshole of a boss for dumping a load of files on your desk five minutes to seven this evening. Fuck you, David. I hope karma gets your ass.

You keep at it for another thirty minutes, Banjo has retreated to his bed in the living room around the time you got to the thirteenth page of the document. Ellie sent you a text an hour ago saying she and Dina got back from the movies, and you set a reminder on your phone to say thank you to Dina’s older sister for having Ellie over tonight. You feel guilty you haven’t managed to spend much time with her this week, with anyone for that matter.

The candle next to you flickers with a gust of air, prompting you to turn your attention to the slowly opening door of your bedroom.

Joel shuffles out, looking sleepy and warm as he quietly makes his way to the kitchen — rubbing his eye with his knuckle just like Sarah does. Your eyes land on the framed photo he’s standing next to: Sarah on one shoulder, Ellie on the other, and your smiling face in the corner as the sun sets over the Seattle beaches. It was your first trip as a family, you still remember how you thought Sarah’s eyes were going to pop out at the size of the aquarium.

Joel pours two glasses of water before he says anything.

“Ellie get back to Dina’s alright?” He rumbles, voice heavy with sleep. He comes to stand next to you at the dining room table, close enough that you feel the warmth of him before he touches you. He places both glasses on the coasters before looking at you tiredly. When you hum in affirmation, he nods gently, “Come to bed, angel.”

He looks impossibly cozy, like a hug embodied. His sleep shirt is rumpled, the navy fabric hanging over his plaid pyjama pants — the Paddington socks Sarah got him keeping his feet warm. Internally, you smile at the way his hair sticks up in five directions. He runs a hand through his scruffy beard. It’s amusing to see such a large man look like a teddy bear.

“I’m almost done with this case.” You murmur, voice weak from misuse.

You sigh tiredly as he kisses the crown of your head.

“You can finish it in the morning, baby. C’mon, it’s late.” He whispers, his hand running over the back of your head before settling gently on your shoulder.

You contemplate his words.

On one hand, you only have two more pages to read over — but he’s warm, and you’re just so tired. You shake your head.

“I’ll just be awake thinking about it if I don’t finish now.”

He squeezes your shoulder gently, picking up his glass of water.

“I’ll help you sleep, now c’mon.” He repeats in that soft voice of his that you can’t argue with. You’ve been going to sleep past three every night for the past few days, and Joel is putting his Paddington-adorned-foot down gently.

You relent, because you love him, and because he’s right.

What you have with him is perfect. Committed and devoted in a way that doesn’t need a label, even though you know he’s been thinking about slipping a pretty ring over your finger — it seems a bit juvenile, a bit unnecessary, but it’s sweet, and if he asks you’ll say yes without a doubt.

He hums his approval as you close your laptop, and he puts it on charge for you when you stand to stretch.

He guides you to the bedroom with his presence at your back, shutting off the few lights that were on.

You stand at the bathroom sink for a moment, only feeling the weight of your tiredness once you left your work behind. You blink at yourself in the mirror tiredly, bringing a hand up to feel the dark circles under your eyes. You look like a mess, and a wave of anxiousness passes through you.

Joel’s standing behind you a moment later, his large, warm hands on your hips. He buries his face against your shoulder, the light of the bathroom hurting his eyes. You lean your head towards his, and he kisses your shoulder before straightening once more.

You don’t say much as he grabs your toothbrush, putting the toothpaste on for you. It makes your heart squeeze.

You’ve missed him. Late hours at the office have taken away from your time with him, leaving you tired and busy when you eventually get home. He’s been patient with you, understanding you’re so close to becoming a partner — how badly you want this, not just for yourself but for the entire family. It’ll take pressure off of Joel’s business, especially because he’s been paying for Ellie’s school fees while you work. It’ll let all three of you fly out to visit Sarah in Massachusetts where she’s studying to become a doctor at Harvard itself.

You still remember Joel breaking down in tears when she got her acceptance letter last year, so damn proud. Years of single fatherhood weighing on his shoulders, wondering if he’d done anything right by her. It’s something you two related over, you also wonder if you’d been a good mom to Ellie.

The memory of Joel meeting her seven years ago, when she was eight years old and feisty as all hell, makes you smile. She’d immediately jumped up and hung onto his arm like a monkey, grilling him over how much he really liked dinosaurs, trying to investigate him: protecting her heart. He won her over easily, the second he showed her he’d brought Curtis and Viper II for movie night.

The trip down memory lane has your heart warming so much it immediately makes you feel sleepy, and you look around for what Joel has been doing.

He’s currently fussing around in the bathroom, and you wonder what he’s doing as you brush your teeth. Your questions are answered when you see he’s grabbed everything that’s a part of your night time routine, laying it out on the counter for when you get out of the shower. He really is your biggest supporter: stable, present, able to understand you without you having to teach him.

You make a sad little face at him, pouting. “I love you,” you say, it’s garbled around the toothbrush in your mouth but he presses a kiss to your forehead regardless.

“I love you too, angel.” He whispers, pressing another kiss to the crown of your head. “My hard-workin’ woman.” It’s murmured, like an afterthought, but you smile at him regardless. His eyes soften at the sight, letting out an amused hum at the foam that lines your teeth.

The heat of the shower relaxes your sore muscles, and by the time you’re patting yourself dry, yawns are flowing out of you by the minute. It doesn’t quiet your mind.

Will you have enough time to finish the work by tomorrow? The final copy needs to be handed in by eight tomorrow morning…that’s in less than six hours, you still have to plan for the meeting. If you sleep for three then, no that’s not enough, maybe you can—

Your thoughts are interrupted by a grunt Joel lets out. “Stop worryin’ and come rest, baby.” He sits up from where he was lying against the headboard, waiting for you to finish showering. “You got more than enough time tomorrow.” Gentler this time, he holds his hand out for you. Naturally, you’re pulled towards his palm, grasping it with your own.

“I’ll get into my pajamas.” You whisper, agreeing with him. His grip on your hand tightens.

“Hold your horses, baby. Gotta make sure that mind ain’t runnin’ a mile a minute the whole night.” His voice drops lower, and you know exactly what he means: goosebumps erupt over your skin.

You let him guide you to lay flat on the duvet, towel left at the foot of the bed as he leans over you, a hand planted next to your head while the other cups your cheek. “Gonna let me take care ‘f you?” He asks, and you’ve never wanted anything more in that moment. The weight of stress and constant anxiousness finally slamming down over you, making you realize just how much you’ve needed this. Needed him to take control just for a minute. Needed him to take care of you.

You nod softly, “Please.” It’s meek, small, and he tuts.

His hand slides down slowly, deliberate, like he’s grounding you back into your body — over your ribs, your waist — until it settles, warm and steady, over your chest. He cups the soft mound before he continues his descent.

He adjusts himself, moving down the mattress so he’s kneeling between your spread legs. His fingers trace over your mound before they pause.

“Haven’t had a chance to taste you in so long, sweet girl.” He whispers, parting your sex with two fingers as he glances up at you, watching how your breath quickens at his touch.

“I know, I’m sorry,” You murmur, your head tilting back just slightly. You feel heavy, a tiredness settling deep in your bones the more his touch forces you to relax.

“No need to apologise, angel,” he hums softly as he feels the trickle of your wetness on his fingers, bringing his fingers to his mouth before he’s settling against the mattress. His hands slide underneath you to hold on to your ass, squeezing the flesh as he drags you closer to him. The broadness of his shoulders keeps your legs spread, and you stare down at him as he places a soft kiss to the top of your mound. “All that hard work and you’re still drippin’ like this for me.” He murmurs, almost to himself, fully aware that he’s quieting down every thought in your mind that’s not on him.

Your whine makes him shudder.

He waits a moment to see if you’ll pull back. When you don’t, his warm tongue parts your folds in one long lick: collecting all of your wetness before wrapping his lips around where you need him most. You cry out as he sucks slowly, tongue flicking slightly along the underside of your clit.

He pulls off with a small smacking sound a moment later, burying his face against you as his tongue drives over your leaking entrance, nose pressed against your clit sinfully.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the strands gently while he moves his tongue over you, dragging over your clit again and again before taking it back into his mouth. Your legs are already trembling, having not felt this for days.

“Joel,” you moan, arching into his touch as his strong hands pull you even closer to his face, the sounds of him eating at you causing another wave of arousal to flood through your body.

“I know baby, I know,” he groans, a line of his spit connecting his bottom lip to your pussy. “Been workin’ so hard, providin’ for all of us. Gon’ take care ‘f my stubborn, beautiful girl.” He whispers the words against you, before tilting his head to bury himself between your thighs: tongue pushing slowly at your entrance. You watch his brows furrow in arousal, feel his shaky exhale against your sex. The sight quietens the remaining thoughts in your mind, giving way to nothing but overwhelming pleasure.

You repeat his name in a desperate whine, it’s all you can do. His tongue slowly breaches you, and your back arches enough to push it deeper. He groans against you, and the vibrations run up your spine.

“I’m not going to last.” You whisper, broken and shaky in its exit. Hips grinding in little circles against his face, the scratch of his beard deliciously sinful.

He already knows what to do.

His lips wrap around your clit once more, free arm skirting up to hold your breast as he keeps sucking, surrounding you with the pure heat of his mouth and tongue.

Your orgasm hits you at a blinding speed when you see he’s grinding his aching hardness against the mattress.

“Good girl,” he groans against you, tongue lapping up your release, “So fuckin’ good for me. So gorgeous.‘M so proud ‘f you.”

Your hips twitch against his face, delirious pleasure pulsing through you as he works you through your orgasm. Your hands reach for him blindly, pulling him up until your lips meet his in a filthy kiss. His tongue pushing into your mouth as his body blankets over yours, so warm and large. You taste yourself on his tongue and moan.

He’s clearly not done with you yet as two of his thick fingers press inside of you, curling up while spasms still rock through you.

“You’re gon’ give me another, then you’re goin’ to sleep.” He murmurs against your ear, nipping your lobe gently. His fingers are slow and thorough, pressing just right against your front wall as his thumb massages your pulsing clit.

He tuts at you when you fumble with his boxers, pulling them down just enough to free his aching cock. He wants to take care of you, but you want to take care of him too.

He hisses when you rub your thumb over his tip, gathering the wetness to spread down his length. He kisses you again, and you moan into each other’s mouths as you work one another to completion.

It doesn’t take very long.

“Fuck, angel. Just like that,” he moans, his fingers working faster as his hips twitch up towards your palm. You can feel he’s right there. His forehead drops to your shoulder, a deep groan leaving him as his balls draw up.

At your breathless moan, his come splatters over your palm, triggering your second orgasm of the night that knocks you: blinding heat wracks through you, leaving your legs shaking as you work each other through. It’s pure bliss, every last bit of tension leaving you.

At the last spasm of your pussy, he pulls his fingers out, licking them as you do the same to your own.

He kisses your forehead softly, before he’s picking you up, bringing you to the bathroom to clean up for only a moment.

The sound of the toilet flushing dulls when he closes the bathroom door, herding you back into bed. Your mind is blissfully empty, eyelids heavy with tiredness.

He pulls you close once you’re under the sheets, a kiss pressed to the back of your neck.

“I love you, angel.”

“I love you more, Joel.”

“Never.”

“Always.”

He huffs his disagreement, and your eyes finally close.

Yeah, you think, David can go fuck himself.

༺──────────────༻

hope you enjoyed this little fic, if you did please reblog and comment. ♡

[simpingforjoel]

the mental image of soft caretaker joel puttering around the house with his messy curls wearing his jammies and paddington socks added years to my lifespan, I need that teddy bear of a man!!! 🥹🫠❤️‍🔥

[ohummhi]

Pspsps come get your shoulder bit and slobbered on while you fuck me too hard pspsps

[simpingforjoel]

pspsps oh my poor baby, you look like you’ve had a rough day and I can help you with that! don’t be shy handsome! I’ll clean the blood off you after big guy, don’t you worry! just come a liiiiiittle closer, that’s such a good general! pspsps