I wanted to post this before my birthday, but that was more than a month ago - life happened (SO MANY things happened).
As I said on the first part, 2023 was a very rough year and these stories I’ve read were a great solace for me. Sadly, 2024 it’s still being as rough – so I’m holding on my resolution and being more active on here. My original plan was to make a rec list of the year, but not only it’d be huge but it would be a lot of work, so I’ll be separating in volumes. Last year’s will be considered volume 1, this is volume 2.
I want to thank every author in this list @tieronecrush @atticrissfinch @swiftispunk @the-scandalorian @softlyspector and @toomanystoriessolittletime : thank you so much for taking your time and created amazing stories for me and for all the readers in here, you all are very talented and creative, your hard work in crafting the best reading pieces it's very much appreciated, I wish there's more I could do to express how much I value your writing.
Hot & Heavy (complete)
Summary: 3 years, 3 summers - what happens when you can’t get over your sexy older neighbor? The sexiest and sweetest love affair that could happen – but with a lot more between them.
This one is very dear to me, @tieronecrush is the sweetest person on earth (and I love her even more knowing she's Aries too). Sam’s creativity it’s amazing and at the same time she can balm our hearts with her words, she can squeeze it with our lungs.
I think this was the first story I’ve read of hers and her Javier Peña’s “Only Angel” will appear again when I make a list of rec's of our beloved Peña.
From her Joel Miller stories, I also highly recommend Trick or Treat, Secret Santa and Orange Crush.
Meet Me In The Back (on going)
Summary: after a rough shitty day, you just want your drink, but state’s law is against you, what to do? Sleazy gas station clerk Joel shows you he can bend the rules for different ways to pay 👀
This has become my obsession, consuming my thoughts at the most random times and very oftenly. Joel’s kinda weird in this story, but he gets under your skin, etches in your brain in a way that you accept and love. And because I’m a ~romantic gal~, there’s more than crazy ass good smut in this too and so far, I’m loving the development of this story.
I also HIGHLY recommend In the Next Room, ‘cause @atticrissfinch turned an annoying situation (my aunt struggles with neighbors like this and it’s exhausting my family) into one of the sexiest things ever.
Your Summer Dream (complete)
Summary: after a traumatic breakup, you’re travelling to Costa Rica with your parents and your dad’s best buddy, Joel Miller. You know what they say, the best way to heal a broken heart it’s with a good dick someone new, right? Right.
This is one my favorite dbf!Joel ever! The situation between them it’s the most appealing – hot DILF, friend’s of dad, fresh breakup and SUMMER and BEACH – it’s the perfect recipe for a delicious and thrilling story, but @swiftispunk adds more with her talent, bringing up also the complicate parts of falling in love with your dbf.
I also highly recommend Good to Me, it’s about Joel being a gynecologist – and just that made me BURN, but also he’s a very good and caring gynecologist, which makes everything all better. Say it With Your Hands is set in Jackson Era - Joel Miller in Jackson visits a masseuse and it’s too much body contact for our poor old man. And Snowflakes, a Fireplace, and You it’s a beautiful Christmas tale and it’s also very much sexy and sad, and I foolish hope that next Christmas there’ll be a second part.
Two & Mine
These are one-shots that aren't related.
I love @the-scandalorian and the day I make a rec list for Din Djarin, 90% of it will be all of her pieces. But since Joel’s stills the man of the hour, I recommend both of these one-shots of her. Mine was the first anal fic with Joel that I’ve read in here, and that’s all you need to know to go read it and LOVE it as I do.
Two includes it’s smut with angst, which I LOVE, as well. And it’s perfect smut, in every detail and word choice, because Simone is wonderful and everything she writes it’s perfectly endearing and it touches you in different ways.
If you're also into Din Djarin content, go check her work.
Honeyed (complete)
Summary: the dilemma of someone who can’t stand being touched but finds a connection with the tattooist Joel Miller and his arts.
I’ve used “can’t stand being touched” but you need to know that’s because there’s trauma in the background and @softlyspector explains that in the Warnings. This story it’s very dear to me, I was really involved while reading and Becca builds the perfect relationship of trust between them, while adding some mind-gushing pining.
You know when you read something so good you feel something tingling inside you? That’s how I’ve felt reading Honeyed, that’s how good this story is.
I’ve reread this story before finishing this list and it was a thrill as it was when I've read it for the first time. Becca nailed perfectly with her writing in here and I love it love it love it love it, please go read this and fall in love with this story too.
⚠
🚨WARNING🚨 ⚠ATTENTION⚠ The next story contains beastiality/sexual content with a monster creature. If it’s not your thing or you don’t think you’ll be able to read it, JUST DON’T READ IT. If even you’ve ignored my and author’s warnings and read it still and didn’t like it, keep your opinion to yourself, unless you’ve got some real constructive criticism to share respectfully. Many authors in this place have been migrating or becoming less active in the fandom because of people who think they can say whatever they want without any regards of respect and fuck the receivers of their hate. Don’t make here a worse environment, life outside it’s already awful and unfair as it is. Respect the authors and their work, even if you don't like them.
Claimed
Summary: after being chased by raiders, your savior comes in a form of a strange creature (werewolf). What happens after it’s more than a different way of saying “thank you”.
I’ve felt I needed to add this story here not only because it swept me off my feet and I loved it, but also because this list needs more spice, so thanks @toomanystoriessolittletime for brightening this even more.
Now, if someone asks me if I’m into monster fucking, I’ll say no – but I’d be guilty by this story and other ones (Din Djarin, your time will come). Now that being said, this story it’s HOT, it made me feel hot and I’ve felt good with this story.
I’ve loved the smut, but also how Steph created a perfect atmosphere, I could picture the scene perfectly in my mind. And also Tommy being a werewolf made me hot as well.
That’s it, folks. Next volume probably will come after June. I don’t believe in my promises and neither should you (unless when recommending a fic, then you can trust it’s good).
Jackson holds a celebration. The final chapter of Yearling found on Tumblr in its entirety here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut :) No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only
Length: 7.7k
A/N: We are through the spoiler-y portion now and you're all OK to read from here if you just want to see how the fic starts to come to a close. There is no more overlap with TLOU 2.
AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter
December, 2002
“Is that pot?”
Your oldest brother, Brendan, damn near jumped out of his skin, looking around frantically for a moment before his eyes settled on you and he calmed, his hand going to his chest.
“Shit, bug,” he said. “Yell it, why don’t you.”
“If I yell it, Mom’ll take it away,” you said, joining him at the fence on the edge of your father’s property, climbing up and perching next to him in the moonlight. “But that means I need motivation to keep my big mouth shut so you’d better fuckin’ share.”
He scoffed but passed you the joint, anyway. You took it and breathed deep, pulling the smoke into your lungs and holding it there until the urge to cough was too strong and you gave into it, handing the joint back to your brother, clouding the winter air with a pot-scented haze.
“Jesus, getting high with my baby sister,” he chuckled. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“It’s because you’re getting old,” you teased lightly. He smiled and shook his head, taking a hit before passing it back to you. You took a hit, too, a smaller one this time, trying to make smoke rings as you breathed it out. “So. How’ve you been?”
“Good,” he nodded slowly, taking the joint back. “Thinkin’ about starting up my own ranch…”
“No shit?” You asked, brows raised. He nodded. “Good for you. Think you’d be good at it. I do gotta ask though… This have anything to do with Amanda?”
You teased out the last word and he laughed.
“Was waitin’ for that,” he said. “Talked to Mom have you?”
“Here and there,” you said. “You really ask for Gran’s ring?”
“Jesus…”
“C’mon,” you elbowed him. “You’re thinkin’ of marrying her?”
“More than thinkin’,” he smiled a little. “If I’m marrying anyone, it’s her.”
He took another hit and passed the joint back to you and you nodded, mulling that over in your head. Your brother, settled down enough to get married and start a ranch of his own. It seemed like a completely foreign concept but it was one you liked.
“You’d like her,” he said after a few minutes. “Amanda, I mean. She might come to New Year’s, think you two would get on like a house on fire. She’s studying to be a vet, specializing in large animals. Only person I know who likes horses as much as you.”
“Damn,” you said, taking a hit yourself. “She does sound great. Too good for you, that’s for damn sure…”
He snorted.
“Don’t I know it.”
You passed him the joint again.
“Can I ask you something?” You said after sitting in silence for a minute.
“Shoot.”
“How do you know?” You asked.
He frowned.
“Know what?”
“Know that…” you sighed. “I don’t know, know that she’s the one? That you want to marry her and all that shit?”
He smiled a little, nodding knowingly as he did.
“Well,” he said. “Sounds dumb, but… when you know, you know.”
“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes and he laughed.
“I’m serious,” he said. “You’ll know. But… Well, she’s my favorite damn person. I don’t want to do anything without her if I can help it. I love everything about her, even the shit that drives me nuts. Mostly, though, I just want to live life with her, you know? Want to go grocery shopping and do dishes and fuckin’ mow the lawn… all that shit. It all sounds great because it’d be with her. That’s how you know.”
You nodded slowly, trying to imagine feeling that way about anybody. It didn’t really seem possible.
“Don’t sweat it too much, bug,” he said, clapping you on the shoulder. “You got plenty of time before you need to worry about that shit. No need to rush into it. Just wait until the time is right and you’ve found the right person and then you’re good. It’ll all work out in the end.”
He was right, you thought as you nodded again. You had all the time in the world but, eventually, you’d find someone you’d want to share it with. Even if that sounded insane now, you thought you would. You looked up at the cold, December sky, the universe stretched out before you and you took a deep satisfying breath.
“Yeah,” you said. “I think it will.”
***
July 20, 2029
“Joel, where the hell is your wife?”
Tommy and Joel both looked at each other before looking to Maria, confused.
“Don’t think it was my turn to watch ‘er,” Joel said, setting his whiskey down. “Actually, think it was the exact opposite of my turn to watch her what with tradition and all…”
“Well maybe it should have been because I can’t find her,” Maria said, clearly flustered. “I’ve checked your place, her old place, the room she was supposed to be getting ready in…”
Joel smiled a little to himself, shaking his head and getting up from the table. There was one obvious place Maria hadn’t checked.
“Maybe she’s gettin’ cold feet,” Tommy teased, smirking. “Lord knows she’s too smart for you, anyhow. Maybe she figured it out…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Joel said, adjusting the collar on his shirt. He was in too good a mood to even give his brother shit back. “Don’t think it works that way if you’ve already been married a year and a half. Besides, I think I know where to find her…”
“Just tell me,” Maria groaned, half-heartedly trying to stop him. “I’ll go. It’s bad luck for you to do it.”
“Think we already had more than our share of that,” he said, giving her a wink. “Think we’ll be OK.”
He left his brother’s kitchen and started toward the stables, walking in the opposite direction of most of the town, everyone making their way toward the gathering place in the middle. They gave him warm smiles and nods and congratulations as he passed and he smiled back, a little bubble of warmth in his chest that swelled as he made his way to you. Because while Maria might not know where you were, he sure did.
He heard you before he saw you.
“You’re doing good,” you said. “Try not to let your fingers get ahead of where your mind is though, that’s where you’re stutterin’ a bit…”
“Easy for you to say,” Joel almost heard Savvy’s eyes roll as she teased you. “You don’t have as many fingers to keep track of.”
You barked a laugh at that as Joel came into the stable. You were perched on the wall of Perseus’ stall, Savvy and Ellie sitting on either side of you, the guitar he’d made for Savvy in her arms. She noticed him before you did, giving him a little smile.
“Here,” she said, passing the guitar to you. “You should play something Dad likes since you’re getting married today and all.”
“Look at you, bein’ all sentimental,” you teased lightly back. But you took the guitar and drummed on it for a moment before settling on a song. “Alright, this is the first thing he ever played me. His version is better but this song always makes me think of him now.”
Joel just leaned against the door, watching and listening as you played I’m On Fire, that warm glow in his chest somehow growing as you did, wondering if you could possibly be any more perfect. You were wrong about one thing, though. Your version was better.
It had taken you a while to pick up the guitar again. You’d been back more than two months when he came home from a short patrol to find you on the couch, the guitar he made you in your arms and a determined - if frustrated - look on your face. You glanced up at him when he came in before looking back at the instrument.
“I’m tryin’ real hard not to throw this,” you said, arranging your intact hand on the neck of the guitar. “But it’s pissing me off.”
“Think I’d rather you throw the pillow,” Joel said wryly, coming to sit beside you. You rolled your eyes. “Want to show me?”
“Not really,” you said but you did anyway, starting to play the way you had for years and then seeming to forget that you had two fewer fingers, notes missing and fumbled and you shouted in frustration, almost throwing the guitar before clenching your jaw and moving to set it on the coffee table. Joel took it from you before you could, setting it on the other side of the couch before pulling you against him and kissing the top of your head.
“You were sounding good there, baby,” he said, stroking your arm. You scoffed. “Mean it, you were.”
“Yeah, I was playin’ a mess of bullshit there at the end,” you said. “Real good.”
“It’s gonna take time, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You spent a long time playing the way you used to. Takes a while to adjust. You’ll get there…”
“Because there are so many famous eight-fingered guitarists,” you muttered, your voice thick.
“Sure, but you’re better than every guitarist I’ve ever heard of,” he said, tugging you closer. “You will get there, baby. If anyone can it’s you.”
You sighed but snuggled into him and he hoped that you believed him. He wasn’t just saying it. Something inside him knew that you’d find a way to make music again the way you used to.
He was right. It took a few weeks - a few weeks of almost perpetual frustration - but you got there. He watched it happen, the moment it seemed to click into place almost startling in its clarity. You were playing in the kitchen while he cooked, not really working on anything in particular, just seeing what sounds you could pull from your instrument and how you could make them work together in that way you had when, all of a sudden, you played a few notes in quick succession. Joel frowned to himself and glanced over his shoulder, hoping you weren’t paying attention to him. You weren’t. You were intently focused on the guitar, your hands frozen on it for a moment before you did it again, adding more chords this time. The next thing he knew, you were playing the riff from Layla, laughing as you did.
“Joel!” You looked over to him after playing it a few times and he’d stopped pretending he wasn’t watching you, just leaning against the counter so you had the space to do what you needed to do. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah baby,” he smiled. “Sure did.”
You made a giddy little noise and carefully arranged the guitar in your arms again before starting over. He had to practically pry the instrument away from you when dinner was done but you were beaming when he did, even though the place where you’d lost fingers was bleeding from the guitar strings.
Joel made you something after that, a simple piece of leather that covered that sensitive place and looped down around your wrist. It seemed to work wonders for you, making it easier to play guitar and work with the horses and he let himself feel good about it. He’d done something for you that made your life here better. He could still take care of you, still give you what you needed. They hadn’t taken that, too.
It still took a while for things to get back to normal. Or close to normal, anyway. After everything that had happened over the last two years, Joel didn’t think there was any real way to go back. You still woke up afraid some nights, his leg still bothered him more often than not. But there were good changes, too. Savvy had moved into the bedroom you’d set up for her, happy to have her mother to come home to again. Ellie came around all the time, often with her girlfriend in tow - something that had taken Joel by surprise but had settled into quickly. You’d even become more involved in Jackson, joining the council in the most recent election after Maria encouraged you to run. When the results had come in you sat there, wide eyed, for a moment before you got up and smiled and thanked people for voting for you. It was the shortest acceptance speech Jackson ever had.
While he wouldn’t want to go back and relive the worst of those times, he was starting to think the heartache was there for a reason. It was to get you both here, to this place, building your family and community together.
You finished the song and Ellie and Savvy clapped and you scoffed.
“Sounded real good there, baby,” Joel said from his place by the door. You didn’t jump at the sound of his voice, instead just looking over your shoulder back to him. “Tryin’ to show me up?”
“Nah,” you smiled, handing the guitar to Ellie and jumping down from your perch. “Never could with I’m On Fire. Other shit, though…”
He laughed and shook his head a little as you walked over to him, a blissful smile on your face, and he gave himself a chance to really appreciate you in that moment.
Joel always thought you were beautiful. You were beautiful when he’d first seen you in the forest years ago now, you were beautiful when you fell asleep against him when watching movies, you were beautiful when you came home covered in sweat and dirt and the smell of horse. But damn, were you ever beautiful here, like this. You were in a white eyelet lace dress that went down to your ankles, dropping low enough at the neck that the swell of your breasts were going to be a constant fucking temptation. Savvy had made you a crown of flowers that sat on your head and Joel’s old wedding band hung on a chain around your neck and your cowboy boots had been polished to shining and damn did he want to sweep you off your feet and carry you back home to hide you away from everyone else looking that good.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re the most beautiful woman on the damn planet?” He asked as you draped your arms around his neck and his hands found your waist.
“You,” you smiled, your eyes crinkling at the edges with it. “From time to time.”
“Should say it more then,” he smiled back. “Been slacking.”
“You’re not supposed to see her, you know,” Ellie said, trying to sound stern but smiling a little instead. “Maria told me.”
“Well someone decided to sneak away without tellin’ anyone where she was headed,” Joel teased lightly.
You just smiled broader.
“The important people knew where to find me,” you said.
Joel looked between you and the daughters you shared.
“Yeah,” he said. “Suppose we did.”
He took your hand and the four of you headed for the middle of town, Joel kissing you goodbye in a spot that was a little tucked away so not everyone would catch a glimpse of you.
“You’re too damn pretty,” he smiled. “Don’t want to spoil it for everyone. See you up there?”
You smiled back.
“Try and stop me.”
Joel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt quite so happy as when he watched you walk down the aisle toward him. The two of you said more traditional vows this time, Savvy and Maria by your side, Ellie and Tommy by his. There was something about making promises to you publicly, where everyone the two of you knew could see, that just felt right. You exchanged new rings this time, ones made of the antler of a moose Joel had felled a few months earlier, him slipping yours on your middle finger this time. When he kissed you, the rest of the town fell away and it was just you and him, the way it felt like it should be.
The whole town celebrated after, tables put out on the grass and lights hanging from the trees. Someone had rigged up a sound system and the children of Jackson chased each other, weaving in and out of tables shrieking and giggling as they went. You and Joel were sat at a head table with the girls, Tommy, Maria and William and Joel kept his hand on your knee all through dinner.
To kick off the dancing, Joel tugged you onto the floor, your chin tucked into your chest, and swayed slowly to Hallelujah, so like you had the first time he danced with you, before everything had fallen into place this way. You smiled and pressed close to him, moving alongside him in front of everyone the two of you knew in the world and Joel was happy.
Back at your table, he was just starting to think of a way to steal you back to the house when Ellie gave you a look, jerking her head off to the side. You gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled, a little nervously.
“See you in a second,” you said, before following Ellie, who was whispering conspiratorially with you.
“What in the hell…” Joel frowned, watching you.
“Just have to wait and see, Dad,” Savvy said, looking far too pleased with herself.
He didn’t have to wait long. You and Ellie returned with your guitar and a boom box, Tommy setting up a chair for you in the middle of everything so everyone could see you before cutting the music.
“Hey, everyone!” Tommy yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. “Pay attention to my baby sister!”
The whole of Jackson obeyed and Joel could tell that you were fighting the urge to just go and be next to him, far from the public eye. Instead, you stood next to Tommy, the guitar Joel made you dangling from your hand, Ellie standing nearby next to the boom box.
“Thanks, everyone, for comin’ tonight,” you said, your accent thick like it was when you got nervous. Joel smiled a little, the sound of home coming from your lips. “Means a lot to us that you’re here and sharing this with us. It means a lot to me, especially. I know it took me some time to settle in here because I ain’t had somewhere to call home with anyone other than my daughter for a real long time. But here feels like home, and the way everyone here has welcomed us… it means everything to me.
“Now, a lot of y’all may not know it but…” you took a deep breath and Joel could see you try to swallow your nerves. “I’m something of a musician. I don’t much like playing for anyone besides family but since I feel like y’all are family now, well… seemed only appropriate I play for everyone here tonight.”
You sat down and rested the guitar on your lap.
“Music’s always been the way I get my feelings out,” you said, now focused on Joel. His heart swelled. “I’ve never been great with words and I love you just doesn’t feel like enough when it comes to you, Joel. This ain’t much but… feels closer at least.”
You gave Ellie a nod and she pressed play on the boom box and Joel had to fight to not tear up as you played, the song growing and swelling as it went on, the boom box adding in piano and violin. The music was beautiful and intimate and made Joel think of the quiet mornings he spent with you in his arms, trailing his fingers over your the curve of you, your breath warm on his skin, gently kissing his way over you before the world woke up and it was just you and him and the love you made together. He loved those mornings with you, he wanted countless more of them and he could practically see them now, laid out in front of him like the world at his feet.
When the song ended, the whole of Jackson was silent, the only sound the rustle of the breeze on the trees. You tugged your lower lip between your teeth and, for half a second, looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you up. But then, all at once, everyone broke into applause, thunderous and adoring and you gave Joel a bashful look. Ellie took the boom box and your guitar to stash them away again as you made your way back to him, what seemed like everyone in town on their feet for you as you went.
“Hope that wasn’t too embarrassing,” you said as Joel pulled you in close.
“Baby, that was incredible,” he said, giving you a long, deep kiss. “I didn’t even know you’d been workin’ on the piano and the violin again!”
“I know,” you smiled a little, pressing close and tight to him. “You’re a hard man to surprise. But once I figured out the guitar, I wanted to get those back, too. Tommy even helped me tune the piano at my old place.”
Joel looked to his brother who gave him a small salute before he turned back to you.
“You’re amazing,” he said, resisting the urge to take off with you then and there. You just rolled your eyes before he kissed you again and he tried to be content with just having his arm around you as everyone in town made their way up to congratulate the two of you.
After what felt like a small eternity - and a few more dances with you - Tommy finally leaned over to whisper in Joel’s ear.
“I’ll hold down the fort and make sure the girls are all good,” he said. “Get outta here before you lose your damn mind.”
“Thanks, man,” Joel clapped him on the shoulder and Tommy just gave him a lopsided smile, one that Joel would would call paternal if it came from anyone else. He supposed it did from Tommy, too, now. It was still an odd thought, his brother finding his way to a wife and a place in the world before Joel had, that Joel was the one playing catch up and, in some ways, relying on his brother for help and guidance. But with you, it felt like he’d more than caught up. He’d come out ahead.
“Hey,” Joel gave you a little squeeze and whispered in your ear. “What do you say we get outta here, Mrs. Miller?”
“Really?” Your face lit up and Joel smiled and nodded. “Oh thank fuck, I don’t think I can talk to anyone who isn’t you or the girls again for a week…”
He laughed a little, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s sneak out…”
Joel took your elbow as you got up, the dance floor full as Tommy got to his feet, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone again.
“Ladies and gentleman!” He yelled. “For the last time tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Miller!”
Joel gave him a look and Tommy gave him a wink as everyone turned and clapped. You and Joel waved goodbye before he put his arm around your waist and pulled you tight against his side, leading you home.
***
“Mrs. Miller,” Joel trailed his nose over your cheek, his words quiet in your ear.
“Hm,” you grunted in response, eyes still closed.
“C’mon,” he said softly, his hand smoothing over your stomach that was still covered by your wedding dress. “Gotta get up, we got places to be.”
You opened a skeptical eye at that. The ceiling of your bedroom was painted orange by the sunrise and Joel was there, smiling down at you, his curls still a little unruly from where your fingers had wound in them the night before.
“Where do we have to be?” You asked. “Pretty sure we get the day after our wedding off.”
“We do,” he said, his hand gliding over you, between your breasts in the low cut of your gown, over your chest to cup your cheek. “But still want to get an early start. Made you coffee, let’s go.”
“Early start for what?” You asked, sitting up now.
“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. “You’ll like it, promise. Think you can ride a horse in that pretty dress of yours?”
You gave him an incredulous look.
He laughed.
“Fair enough. Then let’s get goin’.”
“Do I need to pack a bag or anything?” You asked, trying not to groan as you got out of bed.
“Already handled,” he said. “All I need is my beautiful wife to come along for the ride.”
You smiled a little.
“Think I can manage that.”
You had coffee and slices of leftover wedding cake with Joel before walking with him, hand in hand, to the stables, the sound of Jackson just coming to life around you as you went.
It felt a little silly to still be in your wedding dress but, you had to admit, it was a damn nice dress.
Staying in it the night before had been Joel’s idea. His lips had been working their way over your throat to your ear before he whispered to you there.
“That dress of yours comfortable?” He asked, a little breathless.
“Yeah,” you panted, pulling back just enough to frown at him. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, taking a moment to nip at your lower lip. “Did things backwards our first wedding night, already had you naked when we said our vows. Kinda want to have you in the white dress, make a real pretty mess of you in it.”
You smiled, reaching up and trailing your fingers through his hair.
“Whatever you want, Mr. Miller.”
He made you come four times in that dress the night before and you passed out in his arms before you could will yourself to move enough to take it off, too tired from the day of celebrations to bother changing once he was done with you.
It had been Joel’s idea to have a wedding ceremony. He’d brought it up a few months before, once you’d fallen back into life in town again, things as normal as they could be now. You still sometimes felt the ache of fingers that were no longer yours, you still sometimes woke up afraid that your daughters were gone, but you’d healed, too. Your skin was no longer broken and raw, you could play the music you loved again, you could go down the hall and look in on Savvy when you woke up afraid she was gone.
“We’re already married, Joel,” you laughed at him, your feet on his lap as you played guitar one night when Savvy was out with Kyle. Orion snuggled closer to your knee. “You forget that just because we don’t wear the rings anymore?”
“Never forget that,” he smiled a crooked smile at you as he massaged the arch of your foot. “One of the best damn nights of my life. But… I think now’s a good time to celebrate that with our family. Girls weren’t there for it, neither was Tommy. Think it’d be nice to do it again with them.”
You nodded slowly, mulling it over. It wasn’t a bad thought. You did want to share that with Savvy and Ellie, especially now that Savvy would actually be happy about it. And you knew that Joel had missed Tommy and Maria’s wedding, something he regretted now that he had a proper life here in Jackson. You understood why he’d want his brother there. You’d want your brothers there, too, if they were still alive.
“Sure,” you said eventually. “Let’s do it. Have witnesses when you make promises to me this time around, really hold you to that shit…”
He laughed at that.
“Damn right, baby,” he said. “You can hold me to whatever you want.”
Plans quickly grew, though, from just your family to family and friends to the whole of Jackson. Warren manipulated patrol schedules so there would be one afternoon that everyone was in town, damn near every chair and table that could be moved set up for the reception. It had become more than a celebration of you and Joel, changing into something celebrating the peace the city had known in the year since Mitchum’s downfall.
The raider attacks became almost non-existent, patrols hunting down the smaller side groups and wiping them out quickly once Mitchum’s control fell away. After that, even the threat from infected lessened. With fewer people in the forests in the miles around Jackson, there was less reason for them to be there. Patrols had become quiet and mostly peaceful, the town no longer afraid of what they might lose every time the gates to the city opened.
You were happy for the excuse for the focus to not be entirely on you all night, anyway. You’d never been comfortable being the center of attention and, while you liked having a chance to actually show how much your husband meant to you after years together, having that many eyes on you got old fast. Going home just you and Joel had been a relief.
“Hey there love birds,” Olivia said when you got to the stable, two sets of reins in her hands. “Ready to get underway?”
“Think so,” Joel said, taking the reins from her, Renaissance and Ares both packed like they were leaving for a long patrol. “Thanks for doin’ this.”
“Hey, anything to get her to take a break,” she gave you a wink. “Lord knows she deserves it. Have fun you two.”
“Joel,” you laughed, almost nervously, following alongside him as he led the horses to the gate. “Where are we going? What’s going on?”
“You’ll see,” he smiled a little as you reached the gates, handing you Renaissance’s reins. “Just have to keep up.”
You raised your brows at him and he laughed.
“Alright, just have to let me lead for a change, how about that?”
“That, I can do,” you smiled.
It was an easy ride, you following where Joel led, smiling and laughing and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of the forest as you did. For a while, you so rarely left Jackson after Mitchum. No matter what Joel and Tommy and Maria and Julie said, it didn’t feel safe. The worst things that had ever happened to you had happened outside those walls, it just wasn’t worth the risk to leave. If you were inside, in the house you shared with Joel and Savvy or at the stables or the Tipsy Bison, everything would be OK.
But you missed the outside, too. You missed how crisp the air was when you were outside, the sound of the animals in the wild, the way the world spread out in front of you vast and unclaimed.
Joel, Ellie and Julie had been easing you back into it. Julie asked you for help collecting fruit for one of her cocktail plans one day. You’d been hesitant but she convinced you, your whole body stiff the entire two hours you were outside, hyperaware of everything around you. But because you were so aware, you noticed everything too, things you’d missed like the rustle of the grass and the way the air smelled. You were a little more willing to go then.
Ellie told you she wanted to practice shooting as she got ready to go back out on patrol, taking some time off from it after everything that happened. She asked you when Joel was busy and Olivia was there to take over at the stables and you knew it was contrived but you went with her, anyway. She kept you talking, pointing out different birds and asking questions about things that you knew she knew the answer to but it did make you miss being out in the wild more. When you told her you knew better, Ellie kept pretending she had no idea what you were talking about.
Joel, at least, hadn’t tried to couch it in anything. He’d been holding you one morning when neither of you had to be anywhere, his fingers trailing gently up and down your arm.
“Been thinkin’,” he said quietly before pressing his lips to your forehead. “We should take the horses out, go on a short trail ride.”
You frowned.
“Why? They’ve been gettin’ plenty of exercise, don’t have any that need to be tested outside of town right now…”
“Because you could use it,” he said. You stiffened but he kept tracing his fingers over you, up and down.
“Joel…”
“You’ve been gettin’ out here and there,” he said gently. “And I know you miss it.”
“I miss how it used to be,” you corrected him. “It’s different now.”
“Don’t have to be,” he said. “Just come with me.”
You sighed, but he kept going.
“Just a few hours, not gonna take you far,” he said. “I’ll keep you safe.”
You pressed your lips together into a thin line, trying to calm your nerves as he pulled back to look at you, his eyes locked on yours.
“Would I try to get you to do somethin’ that wasn’t safe?” He asked gently. You gave him a look and he smiled a little. “I’ve got you, baby. Just you and me where you can open the horses up and get back out in the trees a little. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ve got you. S’OK.”
His eyes were so soft and his face was so open that you sighed and agreed. The first time had been scary. You only went for a few hours but you couldn’t relax the entire time you were gone, fully outside what felt like Jackson’s control for the first time since you’d come back. But Joel was right. He stuck close to you the entire time, always watching for any kind of threat, always ready to protect you. You made it back to Jackson in one piece, the only shots fired to take down a few stray infected ambling through the area.
He gradually got you to leave the walls of the town more and more, even convincing you to bring Savvy and Ellie along one day, and you realized - as you sat on a picnic blanket with your husband and daughters - that the safety may not have been the walls of the city after all. It may have just been Joel.
You felt comfortable now, outside Jackson with the man who had become your home, your safest place, your husband twice over. The trees were thinning, four hours into your ride and off the more beaten path. You looked at Joel, brows raised and he smiled.
“That’s where we’re headed,” he said. “When we get to there, go ahead and open ‘er up, you’ll know where to go.”
“So mysterious,” you teased and he shrugged, smirking a little, as you broke through the trees.
The sight was almost damn near idyllic, a small lake that was clear as glass, a cabin with a big front porch complete with a swing sitting on the other side of it. You looked at Joel, mouth open in shock.
“Me n’Tommy found it few months back,” he smiled. “Been fixin’ it up. Plenty of space for us, the girls, anyone they want to bring along. But… wanted to break it in right, just you and me. Besides, pretty sure I’ve owed you a honeymoon for a while now.”
You laughed, almost giddy, and pushed Renaissance into a full gallop, skirting along the edge of the water, standing in the stirrups so the air sent the skirt of your dress billowing out behind you. You rode her up to the porch, slipping out of the saddle before she’d come to a full stop, too excited to get a look at the place. You realized there was a small dock just off the porch, a rowboat tied to the side of it, and wildflowers among the grass outside the cabin.
“I do OK?” Joel asked, getting off Ares and coming up alongside you.
“This is amazing,” you said, awed, as you took it all in. “I can’t believe you did all this, it’s…”
You couldn’t find the words, just looking at him, a small smile on his lips.
“C’mon,” he said, taking your hand and leading you up the front steps. He opened the front door but stopped you from going through it. “You gonna let me carry my wife across the threshold? Always wanted to do that with you in a wedding dress.”
You laughed a little and draped your arms around his neck.
“Think that can be arranged.”
He bent and swept you off your feet and into his arms, making you laugh.
“Then let’s go, Mrs. Miller.”
He carried you through the front door and into the living room, some faded couches and mismatched arm chairs around a fireplace. Behind them was a table big enough to have the whole family gathered around it, a set of stairs beyond that and a kitchen off to the side. There was a bundle of wildflowers in a jar of water in the middle of the table, a shelf of board games and cards sitting next to the hearth.
“Give me a few minutes to get the horses settled,” he said, setting you down and kissing your temple. “Then I’ll show you the best part of this place.”
You took your time taking in the place, how much care you could tell Joel and Tommy had put into it. You could see places in the wall that had been patched, shelves that had been mounted. There were stores of canned foods in the cupboards, a canister of tea, a jar of honey, even a pair of matching mugs, both chipped with little owls on them that made you smile. In the living room, there was art on the walls: one of a horse grazing in an open field and another of a deer standing next to a moose in a clearing. You smiled, leaning in closer to see Ellie’s signature in the corner.
“She wanted to contribute,” Joel said from behind you and you turned to face him. He set packs down on the couch and you smiled as he came to you, putting his arms around your waist and tugging you against him. He trailed his lips along your forehead, your temple, down toward your throat, his hands slipping up your sides to slide into the low neck of your dress, making you moan.
“Want to see my favorite part about this place?” He asked, heat on his voice. You just nodded and he pushed the top of the dress down, bearing your chest to him. “No one around for miles. All alone out here. So I can have you all to myself, naked, in that water out there.”
He took the globes of your breasts in his large hands, cradling the weight of them gently in his palms, squeezing you and you groaned at his touch. He kissed you, dipping his tongue into your mouth and you pulled at the buttons of his shirt, opening them one by one.
“Should get me naked then,” you said breathlessly when he pulled away from you ever so slightly. “That water looks awful inviting.”
You undressed each other quickly then, Joel’s shirt and pants ending up in a heap on the floor, your dress draped over the couch. He took your hand and led you outside, pulling you along into the cool water. It was smooth and clear on your skin, the sandy bottom of the lake soft on your toes. He pulled you deeper, until the water was up to your shoulders, before tugging you against him. You smiled and he tilted your head so he could kiss you, his thumb over your cheek, fingers curving around the back of your neck.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” you said quietly as he held you close. His thick, hard cock was pressed against your stomach, your breasts pressed against his wet skin. “You didn’t have to…”
“I wanted to,” he smiled, his forehead against yours. “I want to give you everything, baby.”
You reached and put your arms around his neck, arching your back against him.
“You already have,” you said softly. “You gave me you.”
His hands drifted lower, cupping the round of your ass and lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his waist. His cock was pressed against your slit and you moaned at the feel of it, the way the water and the tip of him moved against your clit already making your pussy tighten. He lifted you, dragging the thick of his length over your sex until he notched his head at your entrance and he moaned.
“Goddamn baby,” he said, voice tense with want. “Can feel how warm you are inside already…”
He pulled you down onto him, his cock pressing into you slowly, slow enough that you could feel how he opened you to him, stretching you around him. You groaned, burying your face in his neck and breathing in the smell of him.
“Fuck you feel good,” his mouth trailed over your neck, your bare shoulder. “So goddamn good, taking me so well…”
Your fingers sank into his skin and you pressed yourself impossibly closer and tighter to him as he bottomed out inside you, your clit pressed against the base of his stomach, the whole of him thick and heavy inside you.
“Joel,” you whimpered. “You’re so deep, feel so good…”
“I know, sweetheart,” he breathed, taking his hands from your ass to your back to clutch you close. “I know.”
He held you close and tight and you managed to pull your face from his neck to look at him, your eyes on his, noses brushing, breathing into each other as the water cradled you both. You moved together, every rock of your hips and thrust of his slow and aching. You weren’t able to tell where he ended and you began and you could feel his breath quickening as the heat inside you grew stronger, your channel getting tighter.
“Want you to come for me,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Need to feel you, come on baby and come for me.”
You could only moan in response, his thrusts growing firmer as you pressed your clit against his skin, his arms tightening around you. You were right on the edge, so close exploding around him.
“Come with me,” you managed, clinging to him. “Please, I need to make you come, please…”
He cut you off with a kiss, swallowing your needy sounds, moving in you desperate and claiming. Your orgasm built higher and higher, drawing you so tight around him it seemed impossible until he pulled you so close it almost hurt, body flush to his as you felt him come undone inside of you.
It only took a moment for the pulsing of his cock to set off your own orgasm, making you throb and flutter around him as rope after rope of his come filled you. For a moment, it was as though you and Joel were the only people left in the world, the way he was around and inside you the only thing you could be sure of then.
He held you after both your orgasms eased, his softening length still inside you, your head on his shoulder, your arms around him as his lips brushed your neck. The water was still and quiet around you, a soft breeze on the air and you smiled against his skin, a sense of peace settling over you as you did.
It had taken so long to reach this point, so many years of pain and healing, so much you needed to move past. But it had all led you here, where you were together, where everyone you loved was safe and happy and you didn’t need to be afraid anymore.
Joel’s hand trailed slowly up and down your spine and he pressed a kiss into your skin.
“I’m so happy we got here,” you said quietly.
You felt him smile against your shoulder.
“Me too, Bambi,” he said, kissing you again before pulling back from him just enough to look you in the eye. “Come a long way in the last few years.”
You smiled a little.
“Hard to believe,” you said. “I didn’t think I’d ever have something like this. I didn’t know it was possible to have something like this.”
“Me, too,” he said. “Makes it feel like all the shit we went through to get here was worth it.”
“Yeah,” you said, kissing him gently. “It does.”
You looked in his eyes, just appreciating him for a moment, the tan of his skin and the gray of his hair and the wrinkles and the scars that told the story of everything that he’d survived and felt deeply that he was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever held.
“So,” he said after a few minutes. “Since this is a honeymoon and all, we got the place to ourselves for as long as we want it but figure we’ll want to get back to the girls before too long. What are you thinkin’ baby?”
You hummed for a moment, considering.
“Well,” you said. “I do miss the girls. But… I like having you all to myself. Think I want to stay here, where I can take advantage of the fact that I can get you naked whenever I want, for at least a few days. Maybe a week.”
He smiled.
“Week sounds good,” he said.
“Plus,” you said. “We can always come back in the future. Have as many honeymoons as we want.”
“Yeah,” he smiled wider. “We can. We got time.”
You kissed your husband, soft and slow, before pulling away and smiling back at him.
“We do,” you said. “We have all the time in the world.”
A/N:
Hi, everyone!
I cannot believe we are here. Exactly one year ago today I published the first chapter of Yearling and now I'm publishing the last.
Thank you so so so much for going on this journey with me, Joel and Bambi. These characters have meant so much to me over the past year and it has been just an absolute joy to share them with you. I hope you've enjoyed how they've grown together and built the life they'll have from here on out.
If you'd like to keep reading what I'm sharing, I am starting up another few fics. There's an AU of Yearling that you can find here
and I am working on another Joel fic that is a no-outbreak AU where Joel is reader's bodyguard. It's called The Savage and the Sanctuary and you can find that here.
I've always been bad at saying goodbye, so I won't do that. I will just say thank you for coming on this adventure with me and for all the love and support you've shared. I hope to see you again soon.
Be well, take care of yourselves, and spread a little kindness in the world.
What a long ride - and I've loved nearly all the parts of it.
Nearly because Bambi suffered too much, it was a hard to stomach, everything was so well described... but I've managed.
I prefer focus on how Joel is such a giver in this story, since the beginning, he’s so fucking in love... he’s so respective, so patient, seeing him in love it's the most beautiful thing.
Loved that Ellie and Savvy got along too, and how they're a whole beautiful family, alongside Tommy, Maria and their kid.
Both Bambi and Joel came along through so much hurt and pain, but found each other and their relationship it's beautiful.
Summary: The storm rages on outside, but you an Joel have each other to find comfort in
Warnings: fluff, SMUT, oral (fem receiving), counter sex? praise kink? little body worship, so much naval gazing
AN: Happy season 2 premier day (Hold me I'm so scared) Lets just enjoy some domestic fluff and smut Joel Miller, okay
Series Masterlist
Previous - Next
AO3
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Chapter 10: Storm Settling
You never made it to the bed, both choosing to lounge in the warmth of the wood stove on the couch. Long comfortable silences and roaming hands. You’re not sure if you’re both just enjoying the bliss or too scared to say anything.
It’s nightfall now and a few lanterns lit about the small space. Joel sits, still shirtless, on the floor leaning against your legs on the couch and lovingly plucking away on Art’s guitar. A book was open on your lap, but truth be told, you’d barely read a page— Joel’s distracting that way. He hums low with a few melodies, only one you recognized from the night you spied on him. You’d wished he felt comfortable enough to sing in front of you. You wished for a lot of things.
In a way, the silence was stifling. You want to know what’s next. He’s stuck here longer now, but would he still leave? The romantic part of you hopes not, but the logical part of you knows he owes no loyalty to you just because you’ve slept together now. Still, the things he said, the new feelings shared. Maybe it was something.
Regardless, you take the coward's way and don’t mention it.
“You hungry?” you ask, gently running a hand over his shoulder. He pauses his playing, head leaning over to place a gentle kiss on your hand resting on his shoulder.
“I could eat.”
You stand off of the couch, wrapping a flannel blanket around you. You still hadn’t bothered to put any clothes back on.
Maybe you could just keep seducing him into staying?
Shaking the ridiculous thought from your head, you pull down a jar of bone broth and some jerky from the cupboard. You place the open jar on top of the hot stove to let it heat through a little. Something warm in this weather sounded comforting.
The storm had only let up a little, the extreme winds dying down but snow pelting down just as heavy as before. A glance outside and you see almost all the vegetation of the messy forest ground was blanketed over by crisp white.
“How’s it look out there?” Joel asks.
“Like…winter.”
“Hmmm, descriptive,” he chuckles before focusing back on his guitar.
With some physical distance between the two of you, you take the chance to finally just admire him. He was beautiful, ruggedly handsome the way that only comes with age. But there was something about him here… like this. You’d seen Joel relax slowly over the months he’d been here, but now there was just something else. Joy? Contentment?
Most people call it afterglow, dumby.
You smile to yourself, unable to help the blush creeping into your cheeks. Is he thinking the same things you are, you wonder. Is he trying to hide his giddiness too? Again, a part of you hopes so and the other part of you doubts it.
You take the warm broth off the stove and bring it to the counter. You pour the hot, nourishing soup into two mugs. You’re about to pull down two plates when something stops you… the feeling of two heavy hands on your hips.
Joel’s standing behind you, his oppressive presence crowding you against the counter. His lips come down and kiss your exposed shoulder where the blanket has slipped down.
“Joel…”
“You haven’t gotten dressed,” he murmurs against your skin.
“Don’t want to.”
“Good,” his lips trail up to your ear, “You shouldn’t.”
You say nothing as his hands snake around your waist and pull you into him. He rests his head on your shoulder gently, watching your hands work as you pull apart a few strips of jerky. The fact that you're able to focus on anything other than him is a miracle in and of itself.
“What do you miss most?” you find him asking. “About the world. About… everything before,” he clarifies.
“Why do you ask?” You say as nonchalantly as you can manage.
“Just… thinkin’ about it more.” He places another lazy kiss on your shoulder, “Lot of time to think today.”
“Mmmm,” You mumble, trying not to dwell on the words unsaid, “Then I think you have to tell me first… since you’ve been thinking about it so much.”
He doesn’t respond right away, but he doesn’t pull away either. Just holding you there, starting to sway you both gently side to side. You stop your fiddling with the food and place your hands over his, hopefully an encouraging gesture. He obviously wanted to share something, and you wanted to listen.
“Peace,” he finally says, “Peace and quiet…contentment.”
“There’s still plenty of that.”
“No. Not like this… Not for men like me.”
“Joel—”
“Tell me what you miss, darlin’...” He cuts you off before you can ask what he means. His hands trail up your torso, gently pulling the blanket further down your body.
“A warm bath.” You answer with a small snort, the chilled air pricking at your skin.
“Mmm, does sound nice.” Those rough hands hold your now exposed breast, gently massaging the supple skin. He buries his nose into your hair before asking again, “But what else?”
Your breath catches when his thumb runs over your nipple, every hair standing on end as he gently plays with you. He’s barely done anything, and you're starting to fall apart at the seams.
“I… miss— I miss—” you attempt to answer the question, “I miss purpose.”
“Purpose?” he repeats.
“Having a purpose. A s–sense of purpose at least,” You try to clarify, not noticing your hips grinding back into his. “Living just to survive… that’s not what people are meant for.”
“Some might say that’s all we’re meant for.”
“N–not me… not most…”
“Surviving is living.” A hand trails up to cup your jaw, the other trailing down your stomach.
“Try telling that to an artist or a t-teacher…” his hand cups over your bare cunt, “...or a singer…”
You shudder as a finger runs through your slick folds, slowly dragging back and forth, gathering your wetness, before lazily circling your clit.
“There aren’t any artists anymore,” he murmurs against your skin. “No teachers, no singers.”
“T-there are…it’s just harder to see them…”
He only hums in contentment, one hand slowly stroking between your legs and the other gently massaging your breast. The blanket had completely fallen to the ground at this point, your bare body pushed against his. You felt the warmth of this chest against your back— the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.
“I t-thought you said you were hungry?” you smile under his touch.
“I am…” his grip tightens, “I’m starving.”
He twists you around in an instant, cupping his hands under your ass and lifting you onto the counter.
“Joel!” you grip his shoulders as he balances you there just on the edge. His mouth finds yours, just for a moment. A quick but undoubtedly hungry kiss. A desperate kiss. His mouth leaves yours with a sigh, lips trailing down your torso as he comes to his knees before you.
You don’t have time to say anything before his mouth envelopes your cunt, only able to let out a desperate scream in response. Your fingers dig into his mess of hair while his hands hold you open for him, wrapping around your thighs and fingers digging into the meaty flesh.
“Fuck!” You wail into the empty space above you.
His tongue laps over your greedily, almost no thought behind his movements. Frenzied and strong movements to claim you— to show you how much he wants this. Eventually he buries himself between your legs, tongue stroking up and down and nose nudging at your clit.
You teeter against the counter, one leg wrapping around his shoulders and the other attempting to find balance against the floor. It was useless. He had you pinned there, open and wanting for you.
He looks directly at you, his tongue flattening as he trails a lazy stripe from your clit over to the apex of your thigh.
“I like the way you sound…” he murmured into the flesh there. “When you let me touch you.”
“Joel… please,” you tug at his hair. He hums in approval.
“I like hearing you beg.” You catch the faintest glimpse of a smile before his mouth returns to where you need him most.
If you had your full wits about you, you’d be wondering how he became so open so quickly. So wanton and talkative. This is a new side to Joel Miller, a side you’d fantasize about but never thought you’d meet.
You were so convinced he’d pull away after you both got back into the cabin. After the charged air settled and you both could just breathe for a second. You thought he’d tell you this was a mistake. Thought he’d say you should forget the kiss ever happened. Instead, you both laid lazily in each other's arms for hours in the din of comfortable silence. And now he has you pinned against him again.
How happy you were to be proven wrong yet again.
You pull at his hair, murmuring his name like it's a sin. He looks up at you, eyes glossy and mouth drenched. You pull at him again, urging him to stand up to meet you. He does, slowly, dragging his tongue against your skin the whole way.
You’re finally able to settle both of your feet on the ground when he kisses you again, hungry and tasting of you.
“You’re beautiful.” He murmurs against you, teeth nipping at your jaw.
“You’re… not what I expected.” You don’t notice your hands pulling at the buttons of his pants. “Not at all.”
“I hope that’s a compliment.” You can feel him smile against you.
“It is,” you pull down his waistband, “It definitely is.”
He grinds his hard length against your bare stomach, huffed groans slipping between his parted lips.
“Let me show you exactly the kind of man I am, darlin’...”
He pulls away from you abruptly, grasping onto your hips and turning you around. He bends you over the counter, shoving his hips into yours. You feel his hard length pressing against your dripping cunt, heavy and pulsing.
He rolls into you, agonizingly slow and deliberate. One hand on your hips and the other pressed into your back. An aching, deep moan drools from your lips as he claims you— As he takes control.
You fucking loved it.
His thrusts are slow at first. Purposeful and almost experimental. He’s letting you adjust to him and savoring the feeling at the same time. You’re still sore from just a few hours ago, but you still want more.
He comes down to lean over you as he finds a steady rhythm, lips peppering kisses across your back. A hand reaches around to find your clit as he continues to fuck you against the counter, clinging to you like his life depended on it.
“So good, baby,” he murmurs behind you, “F-feel so good. So pretty… so good.”
These are not the actions of a man who would want to leave. Not the words of a man who doesn’t care.
You could dwell on the vast and complex implications of the recent changes Joel and your relationship has experienced in the last 6 hours. You could stir your anxieties about what on earth he could possibly be thinking rather than just asking him and risk ruining the mood. You could make him stop right now and tell him this isn’t a good idea. Yeah, you could do all that.
Or you could just… enjoy.
Enjoy him. Enjoy this gift you’ve both been given. Why think about tomorrow when you have everything right now? Constantly thinking about what’s next is all you’ve done since the world ended. When was the last time you just lived? The last time you enjoyed something without thinking you had to earn it? Everything was perfect right now, and that’s all that mattered.
Joel wants you and Joel is still here— and that’s all that mattered.
__________
He wants to scold himself for being a creep and watching you sleep, but he can’t help himself— you were like an antique painting. Magnificent and indescribable.
You’d opted to make a nest of blankets and pillows on the living room floor rather than sleep in your actual bed. The bedroom was too far from the stove anyway. You’re probably still chilled to the bone from running around in the cold with no jacket earlier.
The yellow light of the fire from the open stove danced along the curves of your naked body. His eyes only linger for a moment on the scars on your lower abdomen, more prominent than the other small ones across your body. He wonders about their story but knows better than to ask. Someone did that to you. The thought makes his blood boil. He can’t seem to help himself from being possessive—it’s who he is. Something so delicate and beautiful, and you trusted him. He won’t abuse the privilege.
This was all too good to be true, and it finally came when he was just about to leave. What an idiot he was for wanting to leave something like this behind.
Joel was never much of a believer in a higher power, at least not since the day Sarah was killed. If there was a God, he gave up on mankind a long time ago. Why believe in him if he did this to his world? But this… this all seemed like some divine act of coincidence.
It felt so wrong and so right at the same time. Could this be possible while the world went to shit just beyond your door? But why should he care when everything he wanted was right here? What could he really do out there? He wasn’t like Tommy. He had no desire to try and save the world. He survived. He lived day by day.
You’d asked him before what he did back in the QZ, and he didn’t really have an answer. He did a bit of everything. Aided and abetted, mostly. He was a bad man that did bad things—but he was the best one that did them. The muscle. The one you’d always go to. He hated it. God, he hated it.
What was his role in the world, really? He’s not sure anymore, but he thinks he wants you to be part of it.
He could keep you safe— If he does one good thing in the world, it could be that. You talked about purpose earlier, maybe you could be part of his. The last bright burning candle in a raging storm, and he found it. Could violent hands like his care for something so delicate, or would they eventually snuff it out? He wishes he knew.
Yes, the world was going on without him out there. There’s a thousand men like him still doing the same horrible things… but there was only one you.
Here, he could be something for someone. Here, he could have something all his own. It was selfish, he knows, but so tempting. Did he deserve something like this? Is that how the world worked? No, of course it wasn’t. Joel didn’t deserve nice things, but you surely did. You deserved to have something, even if it was just him. The thought of leaving you here alone again made his heart ache. Could he sleep peacefully at night knowing you're out here alone, unprotected?
No. No, he’s sure he never could.
And then, the decision was so easy. A new life was waiting for him. One with a more fulfilling purpose. One he could actually take pride in. Keep you safe. Keep you close. Keep you for himself. It was only a selfish act if you didn’t want him here, too.
Joel could be thick sometimes, but he wasn’t an idiot. This was never a one-sided attraction. He tried to deny it, tried to ignore it, and look where that got you both. This world was so ugly, why try to deny yourself something good. He's done with all that bull shit now. He has you. And dammit, he’ll do his best to repay that kindness. To earn that love. It’s the only way he knows how to be.
Joel never thought of himself as a kind man, but he knew how to love someone.
He eventually comes down to lay beside you and pulls you in close
I've devoured this story quickly than I've wanted to, but it was just so good to see them pining for each other, many times I chose to read over sleeping or training.
I don't know if you'll continue with this story or not, but even then, I want to thank you for creating something so beautiful and moving like this. 🖤🖤🖤🩷
A lot has happened in the two years since you and Joel got together. The conclusion of Halcyon, told from the prologue, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Smut. Pregnancy. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI
Length: 7k
AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter
Sept. 26, 2025
“OK but I should be able to get a book, too,” Sarah said, holding Ellie’s hand as they walked into the bookstore.
“Baby girl, you do not need to get anything else to weigh your suitcase down,” Joel said. “We are here for your mom, not so you can shop.”
“But it’s a bookstore!” She pouted. “In New York City! I need a souvenir!”
“She’s got a point,” Anna said. “We are here for a book tour, it only seems appropriate that she gets a book.”
“Easy for you to say,” Joel said, holding the large, heavy door open so the girls could head inside. “You’re not the one who’s gonna have to haul her luggage around.”
“Well duh,” Anna said, patting his chest with a smile as she went by. “That’s what my sister married you for. What’s the point of a husband if not to do the heavy lifting, hm?”
Joel rolled his eyes but smiled all the same as the four them made their way into the massive bookstore in the heart of the city.
The ground floor was packed, a line of people weaving through what looked like a sea of stanchions, all working their way to the back of the store.
“Are you here for the author event?” A frazzled looking employee ran up to Joel, her eyes wide. “Because I’m afraid we’ve had to cut off the meet and greet line…”
“Oh, uh, no,” Joel said, still not used to this part of being married to someone who was famous. “Well… yeah, we are, but…”
“She’s my mom,” Sarah beamed proudly.
“Oh!” The woman smiled, visibly relaxing. “She mentioned she was expecting her family, did you want to go say hi?”
Normally, Joel wouldn’t want to disrupt things. But he hadn’t seen you in person in months, him needing to stay at home to keep things chugging along with the business and look after Sarah while you did your tour. You might be busy signing autographs and taking pictures with fans but he couldn’t resist being able to see you somewhere outside his phone screen, even for just a second.
“That’d be great,” Joel smiled.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll get you through the crowd.”
And there was definitely a crowd. He might have been overestimating things because he was so damn proud of you but it seemed like hundreds of people had crammed into this bookstore, all of them holding copies of your books and craning their necks to get a look at you.
“Great turn out today,” the woman said. “I don’t think we’ve had this many out for a signing in a while. We knew she’d be popular but even so, we weren’t exactly prepared for this much!”
“They have good taste,” Anna smiled.
Joel found himself stretching to see you as they got closer and closer to the back of the store, knowing you were just out of sight, beyond this press of eager fans.
He saw you before you saw him, smiling as you handed a book back to someone after you signed it. You were behind a table, a cardboard cutout of you to one side and a giant cardboard version of the cover of your latest novel on the other and Joel couldn’t help but marvel at you, at everything you’d made.
Unlike your last book, Joel had read this one early. You’d shared it with him not long after the two of you got together, the ending uncertain in that version.
“I think I’m going to change the second half,” you said, nose crinkled, as the two of you sat on his couch, your feet on his lap and your manuscript in his hands. “It just doesn’t… I dunno. It doesn’t feel right.”
“I’ll leave that to you, baby,” he’d said, giving the arch of your foot a squeeze. “But I thought it was incredible. Really.”
You’d beamed at that, damn near glowing. But you rewrote the second half and Joel loved it even more then. You took the book from something that was full of pain and longing with an uncertain ending into a journey alongside the characters as they found their way through all that pain to reach something beautiful at the end.
Joel didn’t know much about books but he loved it. He loved that he knew how the future looked with you in it, how right things seemed now, and he treasured the physical manifestation of the fact that you felt the same.
“Mom!” Sarah called when she saw you and you looked up from the table, smiling somehow even wider.
“Hey baby girl!” You said, your agent stepping in to put a pause on the meet and greet line as you got up. Sarah ran forward, almost knocking you down before you even had a chance to fully get out of your chair and you caught her with a laugh.
“Alright, let’s take it easy,” Joel said as Sarah stepped back. “She’s got precious cargo, can’t be too rough.”
“A little hugging never hurt anybody,” you said as Joel reached you, pulling you in for a hug and putting one hand on your swollen belly as he did. You kissed him, deep and long. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” he said, stepping back to take a better look at you, his hand still on your stomach. “And her.”
You smiled, nuzzling closer to him, your hand covering his as he cradled your pregnant belly.
“You might feel her, she’s been on the move today,” you said. “Think she’s been excited to see her daddy.”
He smiled, your stomach bigger than the last time he’d gotten to see you in person and, while he’d convinced you to send him a picture every day that you’d been gone, it was another thing entirely when you were right there. Just as he was marveling at you, the baby inside you moved, a little foot catching his hand, making him gasp.
“There she goes,” you laughed a little, your hand moving to be alongside Joel’s. “Just bouncing off the walls today.”
He laughed, blinking back tears as he held you.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he said reverently.
“Sorry to break up the reunion,” your agent, Stephanie, appeared, putting a hand on your shoulder. “But we need to get back to it.”
“Think they’ll have you here too long?” Joel asked, looking at the crowd still waiting to see you, fans craning their necks to get a better look at you.
“Not sure,” you frowned, looking back over your shoulder at the press of people. “But I can see if…”
“Don’t worry about it baby,” he said, cutting you off. He tugged you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I just want to make sure you’re gonna be feeling up for anything after this. This is your moment, your tour. You gotta do it right.”
“But it’s your birthday,” you said, looking back to him, your brows knitted together, and Joel laughed.
“We’ll keep ourselves busy,” he said. “We got all weekend to celebrate me turnin’ the big 3-6. You go take care of all your adoring fans.”
You smiled at him in that beautiful way you had, that started slow but spread until it made your whole face shine.
“I love you,” you said, kissing him.
“I love you,” he said. “And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”
Joel, Sarah, Anna and Ellie went to the kids section to keep Ellie occupied and Joel couldn’t help but smile at how far the two of you had come as he watched his niece toddle around with his daughter.
Things had moved quickly once the two of you finally understood what you meant to each other. You told Sarah the next day, Joel picking her up from school and bringing her home where you were waiting for them.
“Aunt Goldie!” She’d yelled when she saw you, dropping her book bag unceremoniously by the door before damn near tackling you. You caught her, laughing. “You’re here!”
“Hey kiddo,” you gave her a squeeze. “It’s so good to see you! I missed you.”
“I missed you too!” She said, stepping back as Joel cam up alongside you. She looked between the two of you. “What are you doing here?”
“Well,” Joel said, suddenly feeling nervous. Sarah loved you and wanted you in her life but what if this was a bridge too far? What if she hated him for possibly fucking up the one stable female presence in her life? But he looked at you, at the warm comfort that was your face, and smiled a little. He took your hand and took a deep breath before looking at his daughter. “You know how much Goldie and I care about each other and how much we care about you.”
“Yeah,” she said, an edge of suspicion in her voice.
“And how much we all love being together,” Joel continued. You squeezed his hand tighter.
“Yeah,” Sarah said again, still sounding skeptical.
“We decided to make that official,” Joel said. “And be a family.”
“Wait, so… you guys are together now?” She asked, looking between the two of you. “Like… together together?”
“Yeah,” you smiled, looking a little hesitant as you did. “Is… is that OK with you?”
“OK?” She gaped at the two of you. “Are you serious? That’s the freaking best!”
You laughed and Joel smiled and the two of you hugged Sarah and he had a moment where, for the first time in his life, it felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. The three of you went out to dinner that night - a celebration of sorts - and he was so happy that he didn’t even make a comment when you stole one of his French fries and dipped it in Sarah’s milkshake.
Things were simple after that. So simple that Joel was almost skeptical because nothing in his life had been as easy as you becoming a part of it in this way. But, he supposed, maybe that was just proof that this was what was supposed to happen.
You all but moved in the next week, bringing your cat and your books and the posters Joel had admired in your bedroom. Your asshole of a husband was surprisingly cooperative, the two of you finalizing your divorce in a matter of months. Joel dove into the work of starting a new business just as you were starting to work through your new book, rewriting and editing and it felt something like coming to life to watch you do what you did best while it finally seemed like he was really making something of himself.
The two of you had been together for more than six months when, one evening, he could tell you wanted to talk to him about something. You were folded into the corner of the couch and gnawing absently on your lower lip, fingers twisting around on themselves as you largely ignored the movie you were watching.
“You gonna tell me what’s on your mind over there or do I gotta guess?” He asked once Sarah had gone to bed. He saw you move to brush his concerns off but he beat you to it. “Don’t tell me that it’s nothing, I can tell it’s something.”
You scrunched your nose but sighed, unfolding yourself from your place on the couch enough that he could pull your feet onto his lap. You clutched a pillow tight over your stomach.
“You have to promise not to freak out,” you said. “Or read too much into it.”
“OK,” he laughed a little. “Try me, baby.”
“Well,” you sighed. “I… I have an appointment next week with my OBGYN.”
“Ok…” he said, watching you closely, rubbing a gentle circle on the arch of your foot with his thumb.
“My IUD is due to be replaced,” you said. “And… They’re good for five years and when I made the appointment last year, I was just planning to get another one but… I guess I just… I know what you said, back when we got together, what you said you wanted with me but that was kind of heat of the moment and… Should I get another one? Is it too soon to even talk about that? Maybe it is, but… It’s totally OK if you just don’t want more kids or if you just don’t want them with me or…”
“One minute, baby,” he said, picking your feet up and setting them on the couch.
“But,” you protested, sitting up and frowning and he laughed a little.
“Will you stay put and hold that thought?” He asked, brows raised. “Just gimme a minute.”
He went to the bedroom he shared with you and opened his sock drawer, digging around to the back of it to find the small, square box he’d put there months ago. He opened it, looking down at the shining diamond in the gold band he’d found at an antique jewelry store just a few weeks after the two of you were really together. He knew asking then would have been too quick - hell, you were still fucking married at that point - but he wanted to find the ring he would give you, he wanted to have it so that, when the time was right, he’d be ready. He smiled a little at it, going back to the living room to find you still in your corner of the couch, pillow still clutched tight to your chest and your eyebrows drawn together.
“I’m sorry,” you said quickly. “I know that it’s only been a few months, we really don’t need to figure this out any time soon, really, it’s fine, I’ll just get another one and…”
He ignored you, going down on one knee next to you and opening the box so it was facing you. You gasped and sat up straight, pillow forgotten off to the side, hands covering your mouth.
“Joel…”
“Goldie Girl,” he said, watching you closely. “I’ve spent my whole life in love with you and I don’t plan on changing that any time soon. So I’m asking you if you’ll let me love you, support you, take care of you, make memories and babies and a life with you. I tried living without you for way too long and I never want to do that again so I’m hoping you’ll say yes to this so I don’t have to. Will you marry me?”
There were tears in your eyes but you nodded, quick and hard, before throwing your arms around his neck and practically tackling him, laughing wetly as he caught you as best he could while holding tight to the ring box. He laughed, too, holding you close.
“That a yes?” He asked, pulling back from you enough to look at your face, memorizing the way your eyes glistened and how you smiled so wide it was like you were shining.
“That’s a yes,” you said. “Yes, yes, yes, every minute of every day, yes!”
It’s not like Joel had thought much about his wedding in his youth but it was hard to imagine a better day than that one. It wasn’t huge but it was thoughtful and beautiful, with your families gathered together just a few months after Joel asked for your hand. He got to hold you and dance with you under string lights and flowers in his backyard and you were beautiful in your white dress, your eyes shining and your smile bright. You looked like you on your wedding day this time, not like you were just doing what you felt like you were supposed to do as a bride and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that no one had ever loved their wife as much as he loved you.
The two of you started trying for kids as soon as you got married. Your honeymoon was just a long weekend in Mexico because Joel couldn’t afford to really take time away from his new business but he was happy for the chance to spend any time at all tangled up with you by a beach, coming deep inside you as much as possible as the two of you tried to grow your family together.
But it didn’t take right away. The two of you spent months trying - and Joel was more than happy to do plenty of trying - before it stuck.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” you’d said, kissing Joel before you got out of bed the morning you took the pregnancy test. You’d taken early detection tests a few months in a row at that point, all of them coming back negative and he could tell it was getting to you because you’d resolved to stop taking those tests and just wait to get your period. But you were two days late now and he couldn’t help but be a little optimistic. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Well,” he said, giving you another kiss. “If it is, we just keep trying. I sure as shit don’t mind that part.”
You snorted and went to the bathroom, Joel picking up his phone to distract himself while the two of you waited for the test results. You always stayed in the bathroom after you peed on the stick. He’d hear the water run and the sounds of you rustling around the bathroom before the timer on your phone chimed and then there were a few more minutes - time where he was pretty sure you were trying to handle your disappointment on your own because you still seemed to think he’d find your emotions inconvenient at some point - before you emerged, empty handed, eyes and lips downturned. Before too long, he heard your alarm and he started reading an article on his phone, trying to give you space, when he heard the door to the bathroom open. He frowned, setting his phone face down on his stomach and watching you. The test was in your hands and you were staring down at it as you walked, slowly, toward the bed.
“Goldie?” He asked, sitting up a little straighter.
“It’s positive,” you said softly, still staring down at the stick before lifting your gaze to his, your eyes wide. “Joel… Joel, it’s positive.”
“Holy shit,” he said dropping his phone to the mattress and moving quickly to the end of the bed. “You serious?”
“Yeah,” you laughed, your voice a little wet, turning the test around and showing it to him. “Yeah, I am. Joel, I’m pregnant.”
He laughed, too, something inside him swelling to the point of bursting, like all the happiness you gave him couldn’t be contained. He grabbed you and kissed you, rising to meet you and holding your face in his hands before tugging you to him. You straddled him, dropping the test to the comforter, your cotton nightie bunching up around your hips. Joel looked down your body, his palm coming to rest over your womb and your hand met his, your fingers warm and soft against him.
“Our baby’s in there,” he whispered reverently. “We made that.”
“Yeah,” you said softly. “We did.”
You rode him there on the bed he shared with you, the place you’d conceived your future child, not bothering to separate enough to get fully undressed, just tucking your panties to the side, your arms draped over his shoulders and your forehead on his, noses brushing, his eyes on yours and he’d never felt more like he was exactly where he was supposed to be than when he came inside you that morning.
He had, of course, been hands on immediately. You were growing his child, after all, after you’d spent more than a year supporting him as he got the business off the ground, the least he could do was… well, everything else. He drove you to every appointment, kept a running note in his phone to make sure he knew what snacks you’d been craving lately so that the house was well stocked with whatever you and the baby wanted, rubbed your feet and your back every night. He always liked taking care of you, anyway. He liked that you didn’t need to open doors around him or ever need to pump your own gas because he kept an eye on your gas gauge and filled up your car before you’d need to but that carried even more weight now. You were the mother of his children, you’d already given him so much and now you were giving him the entire world. He would happily spend the rest of his life trying to give you as much as he could, even knowing full well that he could never, ever, make up the difference.
When you’d left for your book tour two months ago, though, he’d been an anxious mess. He’d tried to hide it as best he could but knowing that you were going to be far away and dealing with everything pregnancy threw at you without him there to make it better made his stomach knot and his chest get tight.
He did what he could to prepare, establishing more of a relationship with your agent so he could just text or call her to check in on you and get an honest assessment of how you were doing. He had the list of everywhere you’d be for your events, the names of your hotels and bookstores where you were holding signings and universities you were doing readings. He made a habit of calling ahead to the hotels and having them put the DoorDash order he sent of all your current favorites into your room before you got there. He always tuned into the live streams of your events, even if he just had it on the background while he helped Sarah with her homework or made dinner or got caught up on work, luxuriating in the sound of your voice as you told the story you’d poured yourself into for so long to your crowd of adoring fans.
He ended every night on video chat with you, staying on until you fell asleep, your iPad propped up on the pillows next to you, his set where your pillows would be if he wasn’t wrapped around them because they still smelled a bit like you. He traced the outline of your sleeping face with his eyes and, while he wanted more than anything else to be beside you so he could touch you - actually, really, touch you - he was so damn proud of you. You’d worked so hard, you’d made something amazing, and you were sharing it with the world. He could handle being away from you for a little while if it meant you got to have the success you more than deserved.
The end of your book tour, though, had seemed like a perfect storm of opportunity. It had been a few years since he’d gotten to take Sarah on a real vacation and then there you were, with plans to be in New York City on his birthday as Josh, Ellie’s dad, was slated to play a show the same night. He couldn’t not jump at the chance to see you a little sooner and spend some time with you, Sarah, Ellie and Anna.
“Why don’t you go ask him?” Sarah said to Ellie, who was holding a book up at her. “Here, I’ll come too.”
Joel tried not to smile too broadly from his spot on the bean bag he’d settled into, a place where he could look over the railing separating this floor from the ones below so he could watch you sign autographs and take photos while keeping an eye on the kids. Sarah let Ellie lead the way, the two-year-old girl toddling deliberately toward him with a book in her chubby fingers, her brown hair in little pigtails and her small face serious.
“Unc Ole,” she said, not quite able to say Uncle Joel yet, as she held up the book. “Wead.”
“What do we say?” Anna chided gently as she picked out some picture books from a nearby shelf. Ellie just looked at her, her little eyebrows drawing together as she thought about it and Anna laughed a little. “Please. We say please, kid.”
She nodded at her mom before turning back to Joel, holding the book up again.
“Wead pwease,” she said. “It’s got a dinosauw!”
Joel tried not to laugh at the fact that, while the letters L and R tended to trip his niece up more often than not, she’d damn near mastered the multi-syllable word dinosaur.
“Course kiddo,” he said, adjusting as best he could in the bean bag so Ellie could clamber onto his lap. She settled in there, finding the familiar place she always seemed to, resting her head on his chest as he arranged the book just right so he could read the words and she could see the pictures. “How to be a T-Rex, good pick baby girl. You want to be a T-Rex?”
“Yah,” she nodded once, firmly.
Joel chuckled.
“You’d be a good one,” he said. “Alright, let’s see how you become a T-Rex…”
He read Ellie picture book after picture book, the woman who’d brought them to see you coming to check on them and bring the girls snacks so Ellie didn’t get cranky and, eventually, he watched through the railing as you got up from the table, stretching your back and talking to your agent before going to find him. You noticed him watching you and even from up here, he could see you smile before you gave him a little wave and walked a little faster to the escalator, like you were just as excited to get to him as he was to get to you.
He met you at the top of the escalator and you smiled when you saw him there and you damn near tackled him the second you were off the escalator, your arms going around his neck as you pressed yourself close to him. He held onto you, nuzzling into you and breathing you in.
“I missed you,” you said, voice muffled in his shirt.
“I missed you, too. So damn much,” he said, kissing your temple before pulling back from you. “How was the signing? Your fans get enough of ya?”
“They’ve had plenty,” you laughed, kissing him once, quick and firm with an edge of heat to it. “But it was good. Ready to hit the town, birthday boy?”
He smiled.
“Ready.”
***
You’d never been happier to see Joel.
It had been two months since you’d gotten to really see or touch your husband and, even though you knew it was irrational, part of you was afraid it would be different when you saw him again. But it wasn’t. It was just like it had always been: you and Joel, perfect together.
You weren’t sure what to expect when going on tour but it hadn’t been this. You’d been reluctant to act too excited about the tour - or, more precisely, what the tour meant for your career - around Joel. What if he felt the same way Gale did? What if your success fostered resentment in him or he just thought having a wife who had to leave home for a few months at a time every time a new book came out wasn’t worth the trouble? What if you got home and he didn’t love you anymore?
Instead, it was the opposite. Joel made it obvious, the whole time you were away, that he loved you, missed you, thought you were worth the trouble. He found a way to take care of you, even from across the country. The two of you talked every night, texted every day and you spent the entire tour ready to be back home with him and Sarah not out of obligation or fear but because that’s where you belonged. You were sure of it.
But, now that Joel, Sarah, Ellie and Anna were with you, you were in less of a rush to get home.
The five of you left the bookstore - Joel talking Sarah into slimming down her new book selections to just two - and took the kids to get ice cream, Ellie clambering onto Joel’s lap, ice cream smeared over her face as she snuggled into his chest the way she had since she was a baby. You watched him laugh, ignoring the way she messed up his shirt as he held her close, letting her twist the wedding band on his finger and toy with the watch on his wrist to keep her entertained. The way Joel had been like a father to your niece - even when her own father had stepped up in ways you hadn’t expected - made your heart ache. It seemed impossible that you would get to go through life with this man, someone so caring and strong and good. It was like you’d gotten away with something you couldn’t ever have deserved. But he was yours.
“You’ve got everything under control, right?” You asked Anna a few hours later for what was probably the millionth time as you all got ready to leave the hotel.
“Oh my God, yes!” She laughed, Ellie on her hip. “I promise, I will only let Sarah smoke a little pot and have one beer. Two, max.”
“Yeah Mom,” Sarah smiled. “Just two beers, that’s all.”
“Alright, I deserved that,” you rolled your eyes and pulled Sarah in for a hug, pressing a kiss to her temple before releasing her. “You promise to be good for your aunt?”
“Yes,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ll stay close, no going off on my own, my phone stays on and I won’t take any drinks or anything like that from anyone I don’t know.”
“And you’ll text when you’re back in the room?” You asked, brows raised.
“Promise,” Sarah said. “You guys really don’t have to worry so much, I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“Oh I remember bein’ 14,” Joel said, his arm slipping around your waist. “This one wasn’t there to reel me in yet, found all kinds of trouble. Need you to take after your mama and keep your nose clean, kiddo.”
“I’ll make sure you won’t need to bail me out on your birthday,” she smirked. “Swear.”
“Well in that case,” Joel said. “We’ll see you three in the morning.”
The two of you watched them get into a cab before walking hand in hand to a restaurant not far away, fingers laced and bodies close.
“Still can’t believe Sarah’s old enough to be goin’ to concerts like that,” Joel said. “At least rock concerts.”
“Not sure it counts since she’s going with her aunt to see her cousin’s dad play,” you said. “I think if there’s a toddler with you at the concert, it’s less extreme.”
“Guess so,” Joel said with a laugh. “Anna had those ear covers for Ellie, right? Concerts are loud…”
“She had them,” you smiled a little. “Don’t worry.”
“Kid already don’t listen,” he said, trying to sound annoyed but failing. “Can’t have her going deaf on us too just because her dad is some rock star…”
The two of you had dinner and, as you sat across the table from Joel with a mocktail in your hand and your foot tracing up and down the inside of his leg, you found yourself thinking about the dinner that had helped set all this in motion. Back before you knew how he felt about you, back when you were hoping you could move on from the way you felt about him, back before everything had fallen into place just the way it seemed it had always been meant to, you’d sat across from your best friend and rifled through the rubble of your lives together, searching for some path forward that would lead you beyond the wreckage and to something that was worth having. So much had changed since then and you smiled to yourself, laughing once, making Joel look up from his menu to look at you.
“What?” He asked, brows raised.
“Nothing,” you shrugged, still smiling. “I was just remembering the dinner we had when we gave each other our lists.”
“Oh God,” Joel laughed, shaking his head a little. “Damn, seems like a lifetime ago now.”
“Doesn’t it?” You said. “But you know… I think we accomplished our lists.”
Joel laughed again but then thought for a moment.
“I think you’re right,” he said. “Haven’t thought about that for a minute but damn, we really did.”
“Sarah has now had several pool parties,” you said. “You’re back to playing at the bar a few nights a month…”
“Playin’ seems like an overstatement,” he said and you scoffed.
“Please,” you waved him off. “You have fans and you know it.”
“Started the business,” he said, ignoring you. “Get to design my own projects all the damn time now. Got your divorce good and finalized…” He lifted his left hand, flashing his wedding ring at you, making you laugh. “Sure as hell finished that book, too, Miss Two Time New York Times Bestselling Author.”
“Thank you, thank you,” you said, giving a little bow from your place across from him. “And I definitely feel like I’ve been there for Anna plenty over the years. Oh, and I have not one cat but two thanks to Swiftie and Puck.”
“Think I’m proudest of the last goal, though,” Joel said, earnest now. “Because when I put on my list that I wanted a stable relationship… What I really wanted was this with you. Didn’t think I’d get that, not in a million years, but it’s what I wanted and goddamn, baby, if I’m not thankful for it every damn day.”
You pressed your lips together for a moment, worried you might cry if you tried to speak.
“Yeah,” you said quietly, at a loss for words. “Me too.”
For Joel’s birthday, you’d gotten tickets to a nighttime architecture tour of the city and you smiled, watching your husband’s face light up as guide walked you through the different eras of the buildings and how the skyline had changed over time. The girls were still at the concert when you got back to your room - Sarah sleeping in Anna and Ellie’s room for the night, anyway - and the two of you took advantage of the privacy.
Joel undressed you slowly, reverently. His hands ranged over you gently, tracing over where you’d grown in the time you’d been apart.
“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he breathed, watching you with wide eyes as he knelt, naked between your legs. “Never thought I’d be able to want you any more but damn, seeing you carry our baby… wanna get you pregnant again right now. Don’t care that it’s impossible, I’m gonna damn well try.”
You laughed a little as he kissed over your body, starting at the base of your throat and going down over your chest, your stomach, hooking his fingers around the top of your panties - the last fabric still on - before sliding those down and off, too.
“Again, hm?” You teased but only a little, already breathless with want. “One baby isn’t enough for you, you need two?”
“I need as many as you’ll give me,” he said, working his shaft with one hand and tracing your slit with the other. “Don’t think there’s anything I want more than making a family with you, baby.”
He gently spread your sex open and pushed inside, the hand that was teasing your most tender place slipping up your body to cup your pregnant stomach, making you moan as he sank into you.
He worked you slowly and gently to start, your bodies quickly becoming reacquainted after months apart. Even though yours had changed so much since the last time you’d been with him, Joel still knew you, better than anyone else had ever known you he knew you. He knew exactly how to touch you, hold you, press into you to make you come around him.
“Fuck, Joel,” you keened below his touch when he made you come for a third time, tears pricking at your eyes from overstimulation. “I… I can’t…”
“It’s OK baby,” he said gently, his body curving over yours as he settled deep inside you. His breath was ragged against your skin and your thighs clutched tight around his hips. “I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you and I know you got one more in you, you can give me one more. Been so long since I got to make you come like this, you’re not gonna hold out on me now are you?”
“No,” you whimpered. “But…”
“I’ll get you there,” he said, already adjusting his angle so he was fitted inside you just so, his head flush against the most sensitive parts of you as his skin was pressed tight against your clit. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”
He did, working you slowly and passionately, his hands ranging over you, holding your swollen breasts and growing stomach and spreading hips. He kept his eyes locked on yours as he did, your last orgasm building over time until it was a tight knot at the very core of you, your back arched and fingers pressing into his skin.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispered. “Show me just how much you missed me when you milk my cock dry, come on.”
You cried out, your orgasm taking hold of your entire body, rippling out from your center to every inch of you, muscles fluttering and heart pounding.
“Fuck, there you go,” Joel groaned, sounding a little crazed and desperate himself. “Oh fuck, so pretty when you’re coming on my cock, feels so goddamn good, fuck!”
You felt him throb inside of you, the first pulse heavy and hard as he emptied himself into you and, for just a moment, it was like nothing else in the world existed outside of him and how much you loved him and the pleasure he gave you and you gave him.
“Jesus,” he said as he collapsed, half on top of you half beside you, breathless. “I can’t go that long without touchin’ you again, think I might die if I come that hard every time I get you back.”
You laughed a little and trailed your fingers up and down his bare back.
“Guess we’ll just have to stay close together then,” you said. “Darn.”
He laughed back.
“Guess so,” he said, sitting back from you just enough to slip out of you and you could feel his come slip out of you as he fell beside you on the bed. You snuggled into him and he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering on you. “Though if it is possible to get a pregnant woman pregnant again, we may have just done it.”
You snorted but pressed closer to him, savoring the feeling of his skin on yours, back in his arms where you belonged.
The next morning, you met the girls in the hotel restaurant for breakfast, the five of you taking your time before leaving to take the kids to the Statue of Liberty to be proper tourists when Sarah’s eyes lit up, looking at a table nearby.
“Mom!” She said excitedly, tapping your arm from across the table. “Mom, look! She has your book!”
You looked where Sarah nodded but quickly looked away as the woman looked at the dust jacket and at you.
“Lots of people do, kiddo,” you smiled. “But that is cool to see now and then.”
You finished breakfast and, as you were making sure everyone had jackets and room keys and everything else, the woman Sarah had pointed out to you came over, smiling sheepishly.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but… this is you, isn't it?”
She showed you the inside back flap of the dust jacket, the panel with your photo and a short bio, just your name followed by words that made your heart swell when you’d written them out: lives in Austin, Texas, with her husband, daughter and two cats.
“That’s me,” you smiled a little. “Thank you for reading, I hope you’re enjoying it.”
“Oh, I love it,” she said. “It’s almost like a sequel to your first one, like what would have been possible if Eli hadn’t died and it just… it’s making me hopeful that something worth it is out there, you know?”
You swallowed the little pinch of tears as Joel’s hand found your lower back.
“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”
“Would you mind signing it?” She asked, holding out a pen. “If it’s not too much trouble?”
“Of course,” you said, taking the pen and the book from her. “What’s your name?”
“Rebecca,” she said, smiling.
You flipped past the title page that said Golden and your name to the dedication page, another set of words that had been some of your favorite that you’d ever written:
For my Eli. Thank you for pulling me out of the past and for giving me the brightest future.
You penned your name - still your maiden name, for publishing purposes - and wrote Rebecca, wishing you the most golden tomorrow before handing the book back.
“Thank you so much,” she beamed.
“No problem,” you smiled back and watched her go before turning to help Anna and Joel load up Ellie’s stroller.
“Alright,” Joel said, clapping his hands together once and looking around at everyone. “We ready to go on an adventure?”
You smiled, looking at the man who you loved so much it almost hurt, who knew you as well as you knew him, who had given you everything you could have ever hoped for, the same man you’d loved since you were 15 years old. You’d be ready for anything with him.
“Yeah,” you said, leaning into him. “I think we are.”
A/N: Well, it took us long enough to get here but here were are, the end of Joel and Goldie's story. I hope you enjoyed it! It's truly been such a joy to share these characters and their story with you all, I already don't know what I'm going to do without them.
Thank you so much for being a part of this journey and for spending some of your time with them. Thank you for commenting, liking, reblogging, just being here and a part of this story. This story means so much to me, I'm so glad it matters to other people out there in the world, too.
I'm very bad at saying goodbye so I'll just say - again - thank you and I'll see you soon.
I've spent this past week drowned in this, fallin in love deeper and deeper with their story.
Did it made me mad with how blind Goldie was towards Brad? YES!
Did I wanted to scream everytime Joel and her had a chance to talk through their feelings and then didn't? I nearly slammed my phone against the wall
Did I loved how it ended for them? Of course I did.
There's so much dept, they're pining for each other so HARD. And it's been years, and they've loved only one person, through all their lives - I think it was really pretty when Joel concluded that, if they haven't made so much turns, there wouldn't be Sarah, Ellie or Goldie's book, I was sad because I thought they wasted so much time, but after thinking about that, I've changed my mind.
Thank you for this lovely story, it was such a comfort seeing such a passionate Joel
After Hours: Part 4 | Javier Peña x Original Female Character [Written as Reader/“You”]
SUMMARY: Celebrating your birthday with Javier. The line blurs in the dynamic you find yourselves in. ~9.7k Word Count.
RATING: E. Modern!AU. 18+. Mature topics and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work.
TAGS: The reader is kind of an OC since she has a backstory/last name, no use of y/n, alternating pov, sex work, agent/informant dynamic, drug/substance use, getting really indulgent with reader's wardrobe (sorry not sorry), party girl vibes asf, porn with plot, smut (lots of it), kat's first sex pollen fic, unrealistic sex, dubcon, non-consensual drug use, sex under the influence (drugs and alcohol), lap dances, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, unprotected p-in-v, creampie galore (javi doesn't know what pulling out is apparently), cum eating, overstimulation, if I forgot to tag anything else please let me know, more tags found on series maserlist.
DISCLAIMER: This story portrays sex work as valid labor and affirms the autonomy, skill, and agency of sex workers. At the same time, it does not ignore the very real dangers, exploitation, stigma, and systemic harm that many people in the industry face (often without protection or support). The glamor shown here is part of the fiction, not a denial of reality.
A/N: i've been wanting to dabble in the sex pollen trope for a while and as i was outlining this chapter, i just knew this would be the perfect story to insert it into 😈 also going to plug the album wor$t girl in america by slayyter because a lot of songs from that project have influenced my characterization of this story and the reader. enjoy this chapter, babes! 🖤 reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated, thank you for reading! (series masterlist) / (read on ao3)
You and Javier have been working very well together. You feed him info during your bi-weekly club meets and he orchestrates raids; the most recent being a high-stakes street drag race on an airstrip out in the desert. It net millions of dollars in contraband and a few arrests, including two Ivory Saints lieutenants they’ve had in their sights for years.
The bust was pivotal enough that the team went out to celebrate at a small casino near the office. Javier let himself drink and play more than usual, which in turn helped loosen the perpetual knot in his shoulders.
That’s how he ended up bringing their bartender home.
Her name is Lauren… or maybe Laura…? She was fun and uncomplicated. No expectations or danger wrapped in glitter and sass. Just a brief reprieve from the double-agent tightrope he’s been walking with you.
He wakes to insistent knocking followed by the shrill, repeated chime of the doorbell.
Javier groans, rolling onto his back. His mouth tastes like stale whiskey. He glances at the clock: 10:47 A.M.
He sits up, sheet pooling around his waist. Lauren/Laura stirs beside him, hair fanned across the pillow. He slings yesterday’s pants up over his hips, quickly freshening up in the bathroom then stalking out to the front door, leaving the bartender in bed to wake up alone.
Through the peephole he sees you; arms crossed, leopard print fur-lined trench coat cinched tight at the waist and bubblegum snapping between your teeth obnoxiously.
He swings the door open.
“What are you doing here?”
“Good morning agent,” you push past him, designer bag swinging at your hip, stilettos sounding against the hardwood with every step.
He closes the door and follows hot on your heels. “Where and how did you get this address?”
You stop in the middle of the living room, taking in the sparse decor with an inspecting onceover.
“Eclectic, much?” You drawl with mock judgment, parking your Birkin on the coffee table then dropping onto the couch, kicking your feet up onto the armrest and crossing your ankles, coat falling open to reveal a sliver of your body.
His world feels like it’s tilting on its axis. Surely he must be dreaming with the way you’ve just shown up unannounced, moving through his space like this is some shit that happens regularly. And, more importantly, how are you awake and functional before four in the afternoon?
“What are you doing here?” Javi asks again, each word emphasized like he’s trying to pin you in place with them.
Before you can answer, the bedroom door creaks open.
Lauren/Laura emerges with her hair mussed and makeup smudged under her eyes. She freezes when she sees you, eyes darting between the shirtless man she slept with last night and the woman lounging on his couch.
You look her up and down, clearly entertained by the situation, then lift your fingers in a lazy, instigating wave.
“Hi,” comes the greeting as you smack down your gum.
She blinks, confused and definitely embarrassed, then glances at Javier.
“I’ll… see myself out,” she mumbles, cheeks flushing.
He moves smoothly, crossing to her side, one hand light on her lower back as he guides her toward the door. He murmurs something low in her ear (an apology, probably) but she doesn’t even look at him. Lauren/Laura ducks her head and slips out into the hallway.
You laugh watching it all from the couch.
“Real classy,” you blow a bubble, letting the sugar deflate against your lips.
Javier turns to you, gaze narrowed and expression flat.
You roll your eyes at the expectant and, plainly put, irritated look he gives you, then you lift a hand, flashing him your freshly done nail set (which is colorful and dazzling as always).
“My tech’s salon is up the street.” You playfully wiggle your fingers again. “I was around, so I decided to see what you were up to post-bust. Literally.”
You giggle at your own joke, leaning back deeper into the couch, knees bending slightly, the coat falling open further and tantalizing him unintentionally.
“How did you get my address?” He’s adamant by sticking with his two questions.
“I followed you home once.”
Javi can’t tell if you’re being serious or not and he’s not about to rise to the bait so easily.
“So what do you want?”
You take him in, all broad with his hair sexily tousled, the deep V of his pelvis and happy trail disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants in invitation. You move off the couch in one fluid motion, closing the distance between you, hips swaying with the seductive finesse that weakens his resolve.
It’s maddening how you both gravitate towards one another. Whether you like to admit it or not.
“Are you always so grumpy and miserable?” Your fingers trail lightly down his sternum once you’re close enough. “Or is it just around me?”
Javier’s teeth grind, but he doesn’t step away nor stop you. “I tend to get annoyed when I’ve got a pain in my ass knocking my door down just to show off her manicure.”
You smirk, tilting your chin up. Those incessantly furrowed brows shade his dark brown eyes that always look like they’ve seen too much and still want more.
He’s so goddamn attractive. It actually irritates you.
“Don’t be like that. I actually have a very good reason for being here.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.” Your fingers slip into the empty belt loops of his pants and tug. He lets you pull him forward, guiding him until the backs of his knees hit the couch. You push gently at his bare chest and he sits, manspreading wide.
You step back to rummage through your bag, spitting your gum out into the wrapper and pulling out your phone to tap the screen a few times. Suddenly, a sultry beat fills the room and you sway to it, getting the ball rolling.
You undo the tie of your trench coat, letting the belt fall. It slips off one shoulder, then the other, pooling at your elbows before you shrug it free entirely. It drops to the floor in a soft heap of fur and print.
Your outfit is revealed; a simple, yet effective, bodycon dress.
Javier swallows thickly at the way it molds to your curves. His hands flex against his thighs.
You begin to dance; hands trailing up your own body, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over peaked nipples through the fabric. You turn so your back is to him, bending over to shake your ass in his face, letting him get a full view of the pretty g-string that clings to everything he’s been obsessing over since that first night he had you.
Your thighs jiggle when you grind down against nothing in time with the beat of the song, letting him imagine what it would feel like to have you on his lap instead.
He is fucking mesmerized.
The strobe haze of the lighting at the club always makes you look mesmeric. A fantasy made flesh—untouchable and larger than life. But here, with warm sunlight pouring across your skin, you look so real in a way that makes him want to keep you all to himself like a greedy fucking bastard.
Catching his reaction over your shoulder makes you giggle puckishly, a wicked grin plastered on your lips.
You whip your hair back and straighten slowly, spinning to face him. The two-song routine ends with you bending forward, hands planted on his knees as you trail your palms up his thighs, massaging the swollen bulge at his fly.
You lean in close enough that your breath ghosts across his lips and place a soft, lingering kiss there.
He chases it instantly, his mouth opening under yours, tongue sliding past your lips in a hungry sweep.
You mimic the action with a sweet and fucking indulgent stroke. His hands find your waist, stocky fingers digging into soft flesh and pulling you down until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the leather couch on either side of his narrow hips.
Your hands slide up his taut chest, palms flat against the warm skin until your fingers trace the ridge of his pecs, nails dragging lightly over his nipples before settling on his shoulders.
You make out like you’ve just discovered what kissing is. It’s messy. Swapped spit and teeth grazing lips, soft sounds of pleasure swallowed between breaths. It’s erotic in a way neither of you has indulged in for a long, long time.
There’s no rush to fuck or frantic stripping, only the slow burn of mouths and hands and heat building between two aching bodies. His cock throbs beneath you, pressing against your damp, covered pussy. You rock against him insistently, drawing low groans from his throat that vibrate into your soul.
You pull back with your lips all swollen and breathing heavily—almost forgetting why you came here in the first place.
“You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” he rasps, nipping at your jaw.
“Maybe I missed you,” you say sappily, tilting your neck to give him more skin to kiss and lick at.
“Try again.”
He squeezes the sides of your thighs when you climb off his lap. You saunter over to your bag again, this time to pull out an envelope with his name written across the front in your pretty, looping cursive; a small heart dots right above the i in Javier.
“For you,” you return to his lap, holding it up between two manicured fingers.
He takes it and flips it over, sliding a thumb under the flap, pulling out a glitter-dusted card.
It’s an invitation to your birthday party.
His demeanor changes, brows furrowing. “I don’t think this is a smart idea.”
You roll your eyes so hard your lashes flutter. “Oh my god, whyyyy?” The word stretches into a spoiled whine, but there’s real defensive irritation underneath. “It’s my birthday. People have birthdays that they celebrate. You’re acting like I invited you to a cartel summit.”
You shift on his lap and cross your arms under your breasts, pushing them higher.
Javier sets the card carefully on the side table. “If anyone sees us together—”
“People see us together all the time at Ace.”
“That’s different.”
“Different how?”
He meets your glare head-on, mustache twitching faintly with the effort to keep his tone even. “We sneak off to a room or a booth because that’s expected. Anything outside of that isn’t. It’d raise suspicion… especially after this latest raid.”
“Yeah, right, because who would expect someone like you to be cordial with someone like me.” You scoff, trying not to find offense by inferring what he’s really saying. “You really are such a grump.” And with that, you push off his lap. You try to do a nice thing and all it gets you is what feels like a goddamn dismissal. This is what you get for getting caught up in… whatever this is.
Of course you wouldn’t fucking get it. Why would he expect you to? Javier sighs your name, rubbing a hand over his jaw.
“It’s not like that.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
“I’ll stop by,” he caves like a fucking idiot. “For an hour. But that’s it. I don’t want to put the investigation in danger by risking the wrong people seeing me there.”
“Whatever.” You brush him off, annoyed by his uptight mood, reaching for your coat. “I don’t need your uptight, negative vibes there. It’d be like inviting someone’s washed up uncle.”
The petty comment bounces off him easily and he stands while you gather your things to leave.
“I just told you I’d be there.”
“And I heard you.” You snap back, shrugging the trench coat back on, leaving it open instead of tying it closed like when you arrived. “But I’m over hearing men telling me things they think I want to hear.”
Javier could keep you here and tell you all the reasons why him going is a bad idea—but that’d be a waste of time considering he’s already ticked you off (all because he’s trying to do this godforsaken job).
“If you prove me wrong by actually showing up,” you add, reapplying your lipgloss in the hanging mirror by his front door, fluffing your hair and popping the gum you’d been chewing earlier back into your mouth. “You should know you can’t get in without bringing a gift. So make sure it’s a good one. I don’t accept gift cards or cash. I want an actual present.”
Javier huffs, deciding to play it safe before you irrationally pull out of the agreement just because you’re upset that he’s not super enthusiastic about showing up to your little birthday party. “Yes ma’am.”
He moves to open the door for you like a gentleman, but before you can cross the threshold, he wraps his arm around your waist and he pulls you back against him. Your back hits solid muscle and his hand cups your jaw, tilting your head up.
Javi leans down and kisses you hotly. His mustache brushes your upper lip, tongue moving against yours in a slow caress that makes your knees weaken. You melt into it until you feel the hard line of his cock against your ass again.
“I’ll see you Friday,” he confirms when he breaks the kiss, his deep voice fucking with your head.
You stare up at him with tingly lips and feel that familiar sparkle ignite between your legs. Your face remains carefully indifferent, but the sparkle in your eyes gives you away.
You slip out of his hold and adjust your coat casually. “Bring me something good, Peña. I have high standards.”
The rooftop club pulses like a lively heartbeat right before the stroke of midnight.
You had clearly taken the New Years holiday as inspiration for your bash, since the real party (as the invitation had stated), didn’t start until promptly midnight to ring in another year of your glamorous life.
A massive disco ball hangs dead center of the room, throwing fractured rainbows over every surface until the entire space feels like the inside of a kaleidoscope.
Clusters of glossy blush-pink and magenta balloons crowd the space, swaying gently in the breeze of the AC. Silver confetti pops intermittently from hidden machines, drifting down to stick to sweat-damp skin and bare shoulders. A glitchy hyperpop track bites at his ears, bass thumping so deep it rattles teeth and sternums alike.
Javier feels every bit the intruder he is. Tight jeans hug his thighs, polished boots on his feet, a short-sleeved black button-down left open at the top two buttons to reveal the hollow of his throat and a glimpse of his toned chest.
He’s like a wolf in a flock of sparkling flamingos. In his hand is your gift wrapped in silver paper and tied with a satin ribbon.
The crowd is full with partygoers rolling hard and getting lost in the rhythm of the song, influencers posing for pictures, and dancers from Ace mixed in with strangers who somehow scored invites. He scans the area out of instinct.
You’re impossible to miss.
You’re holding court next to the DJ booth, perfectly blown-out hair swinging in glossy waves as you dance to the music, having the time of your life. Your custom designer dress is hot pink and shimmery—thin straps digging into your shoulders, its deep plunge showcasing the enticing swell of your cleavage, fabric swaying around the fullness of your thighs and ass, cutting low to showcase the curve of your back.
Tinsel threads through your hair like silver lightning, clusters of tooth gems flashing every time you smile, turning your simper into something dazzling. A sash drapes across your chest in glittering script: WOR$T GIRL IN AMERICA. The crooked tiara sits in your hair like a prize you snatched from a pageant queen after beating her up for it.
You’re proud of yourself for being able to pull off the birthday party of your dreams, sparing no expense when it came to the venue, decorations, party favors and of course your appearance.
You’re basking in it, dancing with a cup full of something fruity and intoxicating, festive with Soleil while her girlfriend, Yvonne, spins your favorite tracks on her decked out board.
The current song scratches to a sudden halt and Yvonne’s voice booms over the speakers to introduce you properly to the crowd with flattery that makes you feel every bit like a princess.
A giant countdown timer explodes across the massive screens suspended above the platforms—sixty seconds ticking down in bold pink numerals. The crowd rumbles with cheers and whistles, phones raised high as confetti cannons fire silver and pink showers that rain down like metallic snow.
You step forward into the spotlight, absolutely in your element, blowing kisses and taking in the sea of faces singing your name. Your unfocused stare sweeps the hazy space until it somehow lands on him.
Your smile stretches wider as the countdown finally hits one.
Happy birthday! It explodes from every corner of the club.
Really pretty bottle service girls swarm the area, their sparklers blazing like miniature comets and carrying your favorite tequila in an oversized bedazzled bottle with a massive sign that reads BIRTHDAY BITCH!
Soleil throws her arms around you in a tight hug, laughing into your hair. “Happy birthday, ma chérie!” She yells over the noise, pressing a sticky kiss to your cheek.
You laugh, grabbing two shot glasses from the girls and knocking them back to back with your best friend. The tequila burns clean down your throat.
You take the mic, your voice energetic and a little slurred, but nonetheless elated.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You squeal in delight. “You’re all are the best fucking people in this city. Now go party hard because I’m about to fuck some shit up!”
You hand the mic back, glowing brightly like a star that’s about to explode as the crowd erupts again, blowing out whistles and raising their drinks high as the music resumes.
You hop down from the DJ platform with a little bounce, the two security guys you hired flanking you instantly. They’re close enough to intervene if some drunk asshole gets grabby yet far enough to give the illusion of space. You actually took Javier’s nagging about safety to heart after he scolded you at the pool. Not that you’ll admit it to him. Let him think you’re still reckless.
You cut through the crowd, bodies parting instinctively and wishing you a happy birthday, plenty of eyes following the shimmer of your dress as it clings and shifts with every step. You spot him near the gift table—a large pile of wrapped boxes and glossy bags of differing sizes spilling across the surface like loot from a heist.
You sing out his name like a siren call.
“Javiiii!”
That cocky half-smirk curls across his mouth the second his eyes find you. He looks good (too fucking good) and the sight of him here, in your world, sends a bright spark of triumph through your chest.
You launch yourself at him without warning, arms looping around his neck. He lifts you effortlessly, your dress flaring around you like hot-pink flames as he spins you. Laughter spills out of you and he buries his face in the crook of your neck.
“Feliz cumpleaños, muñeca,” he murmurs against your skin, mustache brushing your pulse, leaving open-mouthed kisses there that make you shiver.
Your makeup is full on tonight to match the theme: lash clusters thick and dramatic making your eyes look even more hypnotic, glitter bomb cheekbones catching every angle, lips painted a glossy color that compliments the dress. Your pupils are blown wide—ecstasy and tequila and pure adrenaline turning your gaze bleary as you blink up at him slowly.
You look like a supermodel who’s been partying since the sun came up and has no intention of stopping.
“You actually came… and with a gift!” You’re curious to know what he got you, but you’ll save that surprise for later.
His thumb brushes a stray fleck of glitter from your cheekbone. “I told you I would.”
“Take a shot with me,” you yell over the music. “Then let’s go dance!”
You’ve been having the time of your life with Soleil and the other girls, but underneath the euphoria there’s been a restless itch for something rougher and more calloused. His hands. His mouth. His cock. The way he looks at you like he’s trying to hold back from fucking you stupid.
Sure, you could have called Sebastian or any of the other men on your roster—but your body has been craving this stubborn DEA agent since beginning your affair. He has this way of turning you on like nothing you’ve experienced before, and he fucks exactly how you like it.
Plus it’s your birthday… you’re entitled to having him between your legs.
Javier hesitates just a split second, eyes flicking over your shoulder as if to look for unwanted wandering eyes, then nods.
“Lead the way.”
You slide down his body until your heels hit the floor again. His hand finds the small of your back and you guide him toward your private section. The two security guys straighten as you approach, eyes narrowing on Javier.
You lift a hand. “He’s with me.”
He lifts the edge of his shirt just enough to flash the pistol tucked at his lower back, badge clipped beside it, and they nod curtly, stepping aside without another word.
Javier’s hand tightens briefly on your waist, approval at the fact that you have security detail.
The chilled bottle of tequila sits at the center of your decorated table like a crown jewel surrounded by a scatter of lime wedges, a crystal salt shaker, and double shot glasses.
You guide Javier to the low velvet couch with a firm hand on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath. He lets you position him exactly where you want. You straddle one of his thighs for leverage, dress riding higher, then pluck a lime wedge from the tray and wedge it gently between his lips.
“Hold that for me, thank you.”
He catches on instantly, eyes darkening with amused understanding. He doesn’t protest, just lets the tart citrus rest against his tongue while he watches you with that predatory stare that always gets your pussy wet.
You tilt the salt shaker over his collarbone, dragging your tongue slowly across his skin, humming at the taste of him, then knock back the shot in one smooth motion. The tequila burns, blooming heat across your chest.
You moan this needy little sound then pluck the lime from his mouth with your teeth, sucking the juice from it before discarding the rind onto the table. Your lips crash against his immediately. He groans low in his throat, hands flexing at your hips like he’s fighting the urge to take you right here.
You pull away too soon, breathless and smiling teasingly, only to hand him his shot.
“Your turn.”
He exhales a rough laugh then mirrors you. His fingers catch your chin, tilting your face up so he can drag his tongue along the hollow of your throat, slow and wet, leaving a glistening trail. He sprinkles salt there then knocks his shot back without flinching before leaning in to lick the salt from your skin in one long drag. His tongue traces the curve between your breasts, up your neck, along your jaw, until he reaches the lime wedge you’ve tucked between your teeth.
He takes it, teeth grazing your lip, sucking the tart juice straight from the fruit while his eyes stay locked on yours. The sour bite settles in his mouth; he discards the rind with a flick of his wrist.
That kickstarts the night.
Drinks flow from the bottle-service girls who keep the trays coming. Your bodies find each other again and again, grinding on the dance floor, hips rolling to the relentless beat, his hands possessive on your waist, your ass, your tits. You throw your head back against his shoulder, eyes closed as you move with him, feeling the hard press of his cock against your lower back every time you arch.
He keeps up, surprisingly, and it thrills you. Javi matches your rhythm as tracks blend together in a seamless, pounding mix. His hands slide up your sides, brushing the undersides of your breasts through the expensive pink fabric, then down to grip your hips, guiding you harder against him.
You feel him everywhere: the heat of his chest at your back, the scrape of his mustache when he presses a kiss to your neck, the low growl in his throat when you grind down just right.
Inhibitions melt away, the tequila and sheer joy of the night stripping him down to something that feels… freeing in a way. He hasn’t partied like this since college, long before the badge and the weight of every case settled on his back like lead.
Tonight, however, the job feels distant. Almost escapable.
You feel a warm body press against your front and you crack your eyes open through the blur. The world swims in triplicates: three Soleil’s, all platinum braids and glowing brown skin, smiling down at you with that knowing, indulgent look she saves only for your worst ideas.
“Coucou, mon ange,” you attempt to wrap your mouth around the French she’s been teaching you for months. The words come out syrupy, but the effort makes her laugh.
“What is he doing here?” She asks, chin jerking toward Javier behind you. Her eyes flick between you two—wary and a little protective, but not surprised.
You flash her a wide, mischievous grin, tooth gems catching the neon like tiny prisms. “What do you think?”
You’d told her everything not long ago at the club’s dressing room while she braided your hair and you lined your lips before a shift. The dismantling of your uncle’s empire, piece by fucking piece, with the help of the DEA.
She hated it at first; called it reckless, dangerous, and stupid—but she came around when she saw just how badly you wanted that motherfucker to pay for everything he had done to you and your family.
“As long as you’re having fun…” Soleil trails off, then pivots smoothly. “Speaking of fun—the cupcakes are here.”
Your eyes light up and you bite your lip, a surge of adrenaline zipping through you. You turn in Javier’s embrace, pulling him down by the back of his neck so that your lips are at his ear. “Let’s go back to the section.” You kiss his pulse wetly then drag him after you like he’s on a leash.
He follows, hand tightening around yours as you weave through the glittering chaos. Soleil falls into step beside you, smirking like she knows exactly what kind of trouble you’re about to stir.
Ximena and Eshe (two dancers from Ace that you can actually tolerate) are already there with Soleil’s girlfriend. They look up as you arrive, their stares igniting with lust when they see Javier trailing behind you.
You make quick introductions and the girls are not hiding their blatant attraction to the rugged man at your side.
“What a pull Valentine. You up for sharing?”
The idea of having multiple beautiful women piques his interest, but you cut in before he’s able to even form a response.
“Nope. This agent is all mine tonight.”
Javier tenses just slightly but doesn’t correct the title.
You drop sideways onto his lap. Soleil approaches with a silver platter balanced on one hand: six cupcakes frosted in swirling pink-and-white buttercream, edible glitter dusted over the tops like fresh snow, each crowned with a single flickering candle.
They burst into the birthday song; off-key, enthusiastic, voices overlapping in joyful chaos. You play coy—hands clasped under your chin, lashes fluttering—until the final happy birthday to yoooouuu lands. You lean forward and blow out the candles in one dramatic puff. Smoke curls upward; cheers erupt again.
Everyone reaches for a cupcake. You pluck one from the tray, pink frosting piled high, and hold it out to Javier.
“What’s the flavor?” He asks, voice low in your ear, nose brushing the shell as he inhales the potent sweetness wafting off the dessert. He’s never smelled anything quite like it—it’s very strong.
“Vanilla,” you answer, eyes wide and gleaming. “Go on. Try it, baby.”
You lick a generous swirl of frosting off the top, moaning softly at the taste, then bite through the spongy cake, careful not to chew the wrapper. Crumbs cling to your glossed lips; you swipe them away with your thumb and suck it clean.
Javier hesitates, unease flickering in his gut, but you’re looking at him with a very expectant glare. He takes the cupcake.
The first bite is overwhelming; creamy vanilla buttercream melting on his tongue, sweet and rich, but there’s an undercurrent—something almost floral, threaded through the frosting. His skin prickles instantly; heat blooms low in the pit of his stomach, cock twitching against the zipper of his jeans. He takes another bite, bigger this time, then another, devouring its sweetness. His hips shift involuntarily, grinding up against your ass as the tremor of lust ignites in his blood.
You watch him with a knowing expression, smile wide.
“Yummy, right?”
“Yeah,” he rasps, voice already rougher. “Real good.”
The cupcakes vanish in a blink. Everyone’s inhaled their own treat, and in a heartbeat, the night turns salacious.
Desire unfurls beneath your skin, spreading from your chest down to the pulsing ache between your thighs. Your pussy floods instantly with syrupy, insistent arousal that soaks through the thin lace of your thong until you feel the wet drag of fabric against your swollen folds with every tiny shift of your hips.
You grind down harder on Javier’s lap, chasing friction against the thick ridge of his cock still trapped behind denim. The need to have any part of him inside you claws up your spine until you’re half a second from riding him right here for everyone to see.
You’ve done worse.
Javier is just as fucked.
His fingers tangle in your soft hair, pulling just hard enough to sting when he yanks your mouth to his in a bruising kiss. Sweat beads at his temple, trickling down the side of his face; his free hand slips under the hem of your dress without hesitation, palm sliding up your thigh until callused fingertips find your dripping cunt.
He groans into your mouth when he feels how soaked you are. Two of his thick fingers sink inside with no resistance, your walls squelching obscenely around the sudden stretch.
You whimper high and desperate, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. “Please,” you beg against his lips, which is so out of character for you but you need this so bad before you explode, “Javi—please—”
He doesn’t deny you. He can’t.
His fingers curl, hooking that spot inside you that makes your vision flash white and pumping fast and deep while his thumb finds your clit to rub merciless circles. Precum continues to leak from his cock, soaking through his jeans in a spreading patch; his dick jerks hard against your ass every time you clench around his fingers.
He breaks the kiss in ragged breath and shoves the fingers of his other hand past your lips.
“Suck.”
You do—tongue greedily swirling over his knuckles while he finger-fucks you straight into oblivion. Your orgasm is explosive and fucking blinding, cries of pleasure muffled around his fingers as your pussy spasms and gushes, slick running down his wrist and soaking part of his jeans.
The party’s roar drowns you out; no one notices the way your thighs shake or the way Javier’s hips twitch helplessly beneath you.
You drool around his fingers, imagining his cock in their place: girthy, hot, stretching your lips wide until you gag, until tears spill and he fills your mouth with salty spend. The thought alone makes your cunt clench again.
You need to taste him. Right the fuck now.
How you two manage to make it to the club’s restroom, you have no fucking clue.
You shove into the larger accessible stall, door banging shut, and push him back against it with both hands on his chest. He hits the plastic with a muffled thud, breath punching out.
You drop to your knees and yank his pants open with shaking fingers, pulling down enough to release him without his gun coming loose.
His cock springs free—heavy, flushed deep, veins bulging against satin smooth skin, head slick with precum that beads and drips.
You wrap your eager lips around him immediately, taking him deep until the head bumps the back of your throat.
He groans loudly, hips jerking forward on instinct. You whine around him; the vibration makes his balls draw up tight. He’s sticky from earlier, overproduced precum coating your tongue, salty-sweet and addictive. Your manicured fingers slip beneath your dress to circle your swollen clit in frantic little strokes while you bob your head, letting him hit the back of your throat again and again.
“Fuck—” His voice cracks. “Your mouth feels like fucking heaven.”
He wraps your hair around his fist and starts fucking your face in earnest. The pace is rough, speed and depth dictated by the hand in your hair.
You couldn’t be happier, the heat licking at your pussy making you ravenous as you gag lewdly all over his dick, wet choking sounds filling the stall. Spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin in shiny strings.
Tears spill from the effort; mascara runs in black tracks down your cheeks. You’ve ruined your makeup but you don’t care. If anything, it adds to the messy party girl look you were going for.
The need that overconsumes you is bright and fiery. So much so, that you find yourself slipping two of your own fingers inside of you, fingering yourself while you suck Javier off.
Opening your throat more, you take him deeper, nose pressing into the damp hair at his base, tongue flicking against the underside until you feel his sac smacking against your chin.
His balls quiver, his own orgasm barreling down on him.
It’s everything he imagined it would be, seeing you on your knees looking up at him with your signature defiant eyes, wet from the tears of exertion and aching need that lives beneath your skin.
You pull off with a wet pop, spit webbing at your lips and his tip, your hand wrapping around his slick shaft and stroking him fast, tongue lapping at the head like it’s candy.
“Holy shit.”
You move lower, licking broad stripes up his balls, sucking one into your mouth gently, then the other, before taking him back down your throat just as he finishes.
He groans your name while he comes. Hot, thick pulses flood your mouth; you swallow, milking every drop while your own fingers push you over the edge again. Your cunt clenches hard around them as colors burst behind your now closed lids.
You keep sucking until he shudders and pulls you off with a trembling hand in your hair.
He’s panting, chest heaving, brown eyes glassy and blown as he stares down at you: mascara-streaked cheeks, swollen lips, spit and cum shining on your chin.
You lick your mouth then smile up at him with those glittering tooth gems.
Javier doesn’t soften the way he expects to after coming so hard. Instead his cock stays rigid, throbbing painfully hard like someone flipped a switch in his bloodstream and forgot to turn it off.
His whole body feels electrocuted: skin buzzing, vision warping at the edges, colors smearing like wet paint. Sweat pools at the small of his back, soaking through the shirt clinging to his torso. His hands feel clammy, fingers trembling where they’re still tangled in your hair, and his balls ache with fresh, urgent need even though he just emptied them down your throat.
“The fuck is going on,” he slurs, head lolling back against the stall door. He’s been drinking all night but he isn’t drunk. This is something else.
Your tongue drags along the underside of his shaft to collect the pearly remnants that dribbled past your lips. Your fingers still buried in your own soaked pussy come away glistening; you bring them to your mouth and suck them clean, tasting the sharp mix of your cream and his spend.
The flavor detonates on your tongue, intensifying every sensation until your clit pulses in time with your heartbeat.
“It’s called Lotus,” you explain as you rise on wobbly knees. You brace one hand on his hip for balance, the other wrapping around his still-needy cock. “It’s an aphrodisiac cut with molly. Makes you wanna fuck like crazy.” You lean in and kiss his throat, teeth grazing his pulse, then nip the skin hard enough to leave a mark. “It was in the cupcakes.”
Your giggle tapers into a pathetic little moan when you feel him thrust into your fist.
Javier can’t process any words to rebuttal. Drugged with fucking cupcakes. He wants to bicker but can’t, not with the way your hand is stroking him slow and firm, thumb swirling over the sensitive head, and your mouth is back on his neck, sucking bruises into the skin beneath his jaw.
Carnal need clouds any rational thought he had left. He spins your bodies in one rough motion—your back slams against the stall door and he lifts you effortlessly. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct; ankles lock tight at the small of his back, the point of one stiletto heel digging into his ass.
He shoves your soaked thong aside and notches himself at your entrance. One thrust and he’s buried to the hilt, your walls fluttering and sucking him in. You both curse at the same time:
“Oh fuck!”
The stretch is perfect and exactly what you both need, his cock splitting you open, thicker than what you remember, hotter than sin.
He doesn’t give you time to adjust; he starts fucking you hard and fast—hips snapping forward, balls slapping wetly against your ass with every stroke. The stall door rattles violently behind you while the restroom fills with people giggling at the sinks and overlapping conversations, others stumbling into another stall for a bump. No one cares. The music from the club still bleeds through the walls, bass thumping in time with his thrusts.
“Harder, Javi—fuck me harder!” You wail, delirious with pleasure. Your nails rake down his shoulders through his shirt, your mouth finds his neck again, kissing and biting, sucking bruises that will bloom purple by morning.
He growls and hitches your thighs higher, spreading you wider so he can drive deeper, hitting that spot inside you that reminds you why you crave him all the damn time.
Your tits bounce free from the deep plunge of your dress and he doesn’t bother fixing it, just palms one roughly, thumb flicking over your raw, stiff nipple. He chokes you with his tongue with deep, filthy kisses that taste like tequila, cum, and desperation while you fall apart around him.
Your pussy squeezes him hard, spewing slick that smears across his pelvis and mats the dark hair of his pubes. He follows right after, cock pulsing as he fills you again, hot spurts flooding deep until it leaks out around him and drips down your ass.
You pant into each other’s mouths in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, the smacking sounds echoing off the walls. Someone pounds on the stall door from the outside.
“Get a fucking room! Stop hogging the damn stall!”
You giggle breathlessly, both of you overcome with euphoria. Your legs are still locked tight around his waist despite the tremors at your thighs. Javier’s hands roam everywhere; squeezing your ass and thighs because he simply cannot get enough. With or without the fucking drugs.
The first wave of the Lotus finally begins to ebb, leaving behind an afterglow that warms your skin.
He slowly pulls out, a thick trickle of his release following in a warm rush down your inner thigh. He rests his forehead against yours for one quiet second before he tucks himself back into his jeans and zips up, adjusting the gun and badge at his lower back.
There’s a strange atmosphere that settles between you… raw and almost intimate in its silence.
You smooth your dress down, the fabric clinging damply to your curves, then fix your tiara and swipe at your smeared makeup with a savvy smirk.
“Ready to face the world, agent?”
He’s still at a loss for words, unsure if he wants to reprimand you for drugging him or kiss you for being the most frustrating woman he’s ever been infatuated with.
Instead he says nothing, flashing a look that you take as utter defeat. Gotcha, bitch!
The moment the stall door swings open, a small crowd that’s gathered near the sinks erupts into whoops and catcalls.
You drink it in, a smug little smile curving your kiss stained lips while keeping Javier close. Your fingers lace through his, pulling him to you like a prize. He follows without protest, still trying to decipher the drug’s side effects as they wash over him.
The party shows no signs of slowing, but you’ve had enough of being the center of their attention tonight. Let them keep celebrating in your honor.
What you really want is to disappear with the handsome DEA agent who somehow managed to infiltrate every corner of your life in a way you never expected anyone to.
You reach for your blinged-out Prada clutch on the low table in your now-abandoned VIP section, fingers quick and sure as you check for the essentials: phone, a small baggie of blow for later, your favorite gloss, and the key to your apartment.
Satisfied, you snap it shut.
“Let’s get out of here.”
He couldn’t protest even if he wanted to. The Lotus has him completely blissed out and the only thing that feels right is staying close to you.
It’s unlike anything Javier has experienced before. His entire body is pulsating and every breath tastes sweeter than it should. The edge of his vision is fuzzy and certain colors warp together.
The fact that this Lotus drug managed to fly under their radar has him feeling incompetent for the split second that the thought settles in his mind. It quickly vanishes when you stumble into him, and he catches you with steady hands despite feeling imbalanced himself.
“Where are we going?” He asks, thumb stroking the back of your hand without thinking. You seem not as affected by this as he does, but he imagines it’s because your tolerance must be much, much higher than his.
Your eyes sparkle with exuberance.
“Fremont.”
The city explodes around you like a fever dream: canopy lights pulsing in hypnotic waves of electric pink, acid green, and ultraviolet blue overhead, the massive LED screen flashing ads and animations that make the whole street feel like it’s breathing.
You and Javier are completely lost in it, tripping hard and giggling like idiots every time a fresh flare of the drug shocks through your nervous systems. One second you’re holding hands; the next you’re shoving him against a pillar under the Viva Vision screen and kissing him like the world might end in the next heartbeat.
You snap photos around touristy areas like the faux Eiffel Tower and Lady Liberty Statue, documenting the night with your cellphone with videos and pictures alike.
You sneak into different casinos, managing to slip past their shitty security.
The different casino floors assault your senses: bells clanging, slots chiming, cigarette smoke curling thick under the low ceilings. You lose three hundred dollars in twenty minutes on roulette—laughing hysterically each time the ball lands wrong—then win a quick hundred on a single pull of a penny slot.
Javier watches you the whole time, engrossed by you being… well, you.
“Lucky at gambling, unlucky at life,” you quip, scooping the cash and dragging him toward the exit. You spend the hundred on brightly colored slushies and street tacos from a vendor outside—greasy, delicious, dripping sauce down your fingers as you eat leaning against a railing, watching the lustrous city around you come alive after hours.
It’s the most fun either of you has had in years…maybe ever. No family rivalry or dangerous job. Just two people high out of their minds, laughing at nothing, kissing at every crosswalk, stumbling through the night like they’ve realized they’re allowed to want simple things.
Then another wave of the Lotus hits—intense and sudden, like someone injected molten lust directly into your veins.
You stop dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Heat floods your core; your nipples tighten painfully against the thin fabric of your dress and your clit throbs in time with your racing heart. You feel feverish, desperate, like your skin is too tight for your body.
Without a word, you turn and sprint toward the nearest fountain, a massive, glowing horseshoe-shaped thing in front of one of the big hotels, water lit from below in shifting shades of turquoise and magenta. The sign above it buzzes in differing colors.
You kick off your stilettos, letting them clatter to the pavement, and drop your clutch, jumping straight in.
Cool water explodes around you, instantly soaking your dress until the hot pink fabric adheres to every curve like wet silk.
You let out a wild laugh, splashing handfuls of water at the sky, spinning in circles until the world tilts. Your hair plasters to your neck; mascara and eyeshadow run in messy rivulets down your cheeks; the tiara slips sideways but stays (surprisingly) stubbornly perched.
Javier stands at the edge, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind.
“Get out,” he calls, but his gravelly tone is laced with reluctant amusement. “Security’s gonna bust you any second.”
You don’t give a fuck.
You splash toward him, water arcing in glittering sheets, and beckon with both hands. “Come on, Peña! Live a little!”
He glances around then back at you: wet dress plastered to your body, nipples hard and visible through the fabric, hair dripping, eyes wild and bright with drugs and pure chaotic joy.
Something in him cracks.
He gives you a genuine laugh and you’re surprised at the lightness of it. Then he steps in—fully clothed—water rushing up to meet his calves.
You whoop loud and triumphantly, launching yourself at him again. He catches you mid-air; your legs wrap around his waist, arms around his neck. Water cascades off both of you as he spins you then pulls you in for a kiss that tastes like reckless happiness and… chlorine?
The kiss is interrupted when security finally starts moving in.
“Let’s go to your place.”
You nod crazily, grinning like a lunatic, and let him carry you out of the fountain, water streaming off both of you in shining sheets.
He sets you down long enough for you to swipe your shoes and purse from off the ground, then takes your hand again.
You sprint barefoot across the pavement, heels dangling from your free hand, joking the whole way to the main street.
The cab ride back to your loft is a blur, the driver wisely keeping his eyes on the road. You’re both soaked, leather seats squeaking beneath you as you climb into his lap.
His hands are everywhere; sliding up your thighs to grip your ass, fingers digging into soft flesh, then roaming higher to palm your breasts.
You grind down against the thick ridge of his cock, feeling the wet denim rasp against your pussy, the friction making you whimper into his mouth.
“Fuck,” he growls against your lips. “You’re dripping all over me.”
Your moan conveys how needy you are, nipping his bottom lip. “Good,” you breathe, rolling your hips again, slower this time. “I want you to feel how much I need you.”
The elevator ride up is worse, the effects of the drug only intensifying more and more the closer you get to your place.
“You’re gonna make me come in my fucking pants,” he rasps into your neck, hips rocking forward, seeking your touch.
You laugh vainly, nipping his earlobe. “Do it,” you whisper. “Come for me right here. I’ll lick you clean when we get inside. Fuck—I might just drop to my knees right here and take your cock down my throat again.”
His groan sounds like a growl and kisses you harder, tongue spearing into your mouth like he’s trying to claim every fucking inch.
The elevator dings; the doors slide open. You stumble down the hallway together, lips never quite separating, your back hitting the wall once, twice, his hands pinning your wrists above your head for a bruising second before you both laugh into the kiss and keep moving.
You fumble the key into the lock, the door banging open as you two spill into your loft.
The space is exactly the beautiful disaster he expected: clothes draped over every surface, lace thongs on the back of a chair, stilettos kicked haphazardly near the couch, designer bags spilling onto the floor. The walls are a riot of prints and patterns—leopard, zebra, baroque florals—mirrors everywhere reflecting fractured versions of you both: wet, flushed and above all desperate.
Eccentric decor crowds every corner: neon signs, vintage Playboy covers framed in gold, a crystal chandelier dripping with pink feathers. It all screams you.
Javier doesn’t get more than a second to take it in.
Your fervent mouth is on his again, pushing him backward toward the bedroom area that’s really just an open corner of the living room: king bed piled with silk sheets and too many throw pillows, a vanity overflowing with makeup and jewelry, floor-to-ceiling windows letting the city lights bleed in.
He lets you lead for about three steps, then he takes control.
His hands clamp around your waist, shoving you down onto the bed. You bounce once, gasping, then he’s over you, hovering, brown eyes darkened with thirst. He unbuttons then takes off his soaked shirt, muscles flexing under brown skin, then kicks off his boots and shoves his jeans down his thighs.
You don’t waste time. You shimmy out of your dress then toss it aside, keeping on the heels and your jewelry. You pose on the bed sexily before rolling onto your side, one leg bent, hand trailing down your stomach to tease the edge of your thong.
You bite your lip eyes locked on his as he strokes himself, watching you watch him.
You reach for your purse, rummaging through it until your fingers close around the small baggie of coke.
Javier’s eyes narrow, almost offended.
“Do you really need that shit to fuck me?” He grabs your ankle firmly and yanks you to the edge until your ass is at the mattress lip, legs dangling. His glorious naked body looms over you; cock erect and ready to sink into you.
You squeal in delight, legs spreading wide on instinct.
“No,” you breathe, rubbing the powder into your gums with two fingers, tongue chasing the bitter rush. “But it makes it more fun.”
You spread your thighs wider—letting him see everything: your pussy glistening, swollen, aching, leaking slick down your ass and onto the silk sheets.
He snarls and crawls over you, broad body blanketing yours, one toned arm holding his weight while the other wraps around his cock. He guides the head through your slippery folds, tracing your slit, bumping your clit repeatedly and teasing until you’re writhing beneath him.
You let out a pornographic moan—back arching, hips rocking up desperately.
He slides in, burying himself to the hilt in one deep stroke. You both sigh in pleasurable relief at how fucking good it feels. Your walls flutter around him; hot, wet, sucking him deeper like your body was made for this.
He plants both hands on either side of your head, caging you in and starts fucking you with reckless abandon. The wet squelch of your pussy getting drilled by his fat cock echoes through the open loft in filthy and obscene noises. The bed creaks under the force; silk sheets twist and slip around your gyrating bodies.
“Fuck yeah—just like that,” you babble, arching your back off the mattress, pressing your tits into his face. “You’re so deep—oh god—”
His mouth latches onto one nipple, licking, biting, sucking the pert peak into his mouth until you keen wildly, pussy squeezing his cock in rhythmic pulses of bliss.
Javier’s hips snap harder and faster, driving you up the bed inch by inch.
“I’d take you out of all this in a fucking heartbeat,” he grunts into your ear, letting his full body weight blanket you: chest to chest, hips slamming deep. “Take care of you. Keep you safe.”
You mewl loudly, clinging to him as he fucks you deeper into the mattress.
“You can’t,” you gasp, voice cracking on a sob of delight. “No one can.”
“I’ll die trying,” his teeth graze your jaw.
The devotion of this unattainable promise tips you over.
You come unexpectedly, crying out as your cunt tenses around him like a vice. Tears stream down your cheeks from how delicious it feels. It’s overwhelming and borders on too much. Your whole body shakes; slick gushes around his cock, soaking the sheets beneath you.
Javier doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it until his own rhythm falters. He curses loudly in Spanish and comes inside you again, cock pulsing as he floods your pussy with hot spurts, filling you until it leaks out around him and smears across his balls.
You’re both panting and trembling but nowhere near done.
You roll onto your stomach, ass up and thighs spread, and he mounts you instantly, hands gripping your hips, angling you just right before sliding back in.
The prone bone position gets him deep, his cock fucking you so good stars haze over your eyes. You can barely breathe as your fists paw at the silk sheets.
Javi kisses and bites across your shoulders, licking sweat from your skin like it’s ambrosia.
“So fucking bratty,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a deliberate, grinding stroke against your oversensitive G-spot. “Talking shit all the time, but look at you now, baby—drooling all over the damn pillow.”
He laughs darkly in your ear, switching from thrusting to slow, filthy grinds that make your toes curl.
“Oh my god—oh my god—oh my god—” you can’t even form coherent words anymore, just babbling, lost in the pleasure.
It’s too perfect. The drugs, the liquor, the way your bodies react to each other, the obscene amounts of pleasure you pull from one another.
You fuck until the sun cracks the horizon, pinks and golds bleeding through the windows, the Lotus cresting as the moon disappears.
Javier finally slides down your body, broad shoulders wedging your thighs apart, and feasts between your legs. His tongue is lazy, lapping at your swollen clit, sucking it into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your combined release.
Sweat-damp chocolate curls twist between your fingers as you grip his hair, guiding him to eat you how you like it. Your hips rock against his face and he tongue fucks into your dripping hole, then flattens the muscle to drag slow circles around your clit until you’re shaking, sobbing his name out, coming again on his tongue.
You fall apart prettily—back arching off the bed, thighs clamping around his ears, tears streaming down your cheeks as the ecstasy borders on pain. He keeps his hooded eyes open, locked on your gorgeous face, watching every twitch, gasp, and tear as you come down from your umpteenth orgasm.
You’ve both lost count.
He hums, absolutely gratified, and kisses a slow trail up your trembling body until he reaches your lips. The kiss is passionate, tasting of sex and sweat and something dangerously close to real affection.
You sigh dreamily, snuggling into his chest as he rolls onto his back, one arm behind his head, the other stroking your bare arm in lazy circles.
You’re teetering on the edge of sleep, your limbs heavy and body sated, but you can’t help but speak:
“…Javier?”
“Yeah?”
“What gift did you get me?”
He chuckles sleepily, yawning softly, his fingers still tracing idle patterns on your skin.
“An anklet charm… and the lovesick heart Pleasers you’ve been wanting.”
You sit up slightly, propping yourself on one elbow, damp hair falling over one shoulder as you look down at him.
Your genuine passion for your work outfits is like a hobby, you have dozens upon dozens of Pleasers for every mood and theme. The lovesick heart pair (pink, glittering, with tiny red hearts on the platforms) is one of the few you don’t own yet.
You’ve never told him that and you don’t ask how he knew. You don’t need to.
You lean down, kissing him softly as a way to say thank you (you think?) and he lets you, lips pursing to meet yours, hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck.
Before you pull away, he stops you—palm cupping your cheek, thumb brushing your lower lip, keeping you eye-to-eye.
“Next time you give me drugs without my knowledge,” he says quietly, his tone dead serious, “it won’t turn out like this. Understood?”
He’s not letting it slide, not even after sharing the most euphoric night of his life with you. Boundaries matter even if it may not seem like it at times. He won’t risk losing control in a way that could end teribly—or worse—a fatal reaction.
You search his eyes, seeing the earnestness there, and nod, just barely.
“Okay.”
It’s left at that. No argument or back-and-forth, but both of you know that tonight has shifted this dynamic into something more serious and that’s scary for both parties involved.
Though there isn’t any time to think about it now, not when exhaustion washes over your bodies like an early morning tidal wave.
You fall asleep within minutes, spent and tangled together, the other half of the city waking up far below.
If you are involved in sex work and need support, confidential help is available:
National Human Trafficking Hotline (U.S.): 1-888-373-7888 or text 233733 (BEFREE)
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (U.S.): call or text 988 for emotional support, 24/7
SWOP (Sex Workers Outreach Project): local chapters offer advocacy and resources
RAINN (for sexual violence support): 1-800-656-HOPE (4673)
Want to be part of the taglist? Feel free to fill out this form, DM me or reply to this post to be added ✨
also, reblogging because EVERYONE needs to read this perfect gem right here. It's amazing in every single word, divorced Javi, fucking for intel again, a real BRAT... it's sexy, fabulous, sassy, cunty, it's everything that matters. ✨️
5k0 | Joel Miller x Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | masterlist
Summary: your longtime friend, Javi, helps you make your ex jealous
Warnings: 18+ mdni. Threesome mmf (Javi and Joel are bi), pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral (f/m), spit roasting, spitting, light overstimulation, praise kink, size kink, piv, anal, creampies. No age specified
Javi is cheeky, flirtatious and a menace, Joel is a little grumpy but mostly calm and settled because I love this dynamic between the two of them. For this story, let's imagine it’s possible to smoke in a restaurant 🙏 (because Javi’s hot when he’s a sassy smoker 😌)
a/n: this is written for @mothandpidgeon @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre ‘s Magic number writing challenge (masterlist) I asked for a prompt and Al gave me "fake relationship." As a lover of threesome fics, thank you so much for this challenge 🙏❤️
Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing me 😘💕 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏
Happy pride 🌈
“Can I ask you a favor, Javi?”
“Sure.” His quick reply was proof of your friendship and mutual trust, if any were needed. “Shoot, baby,” he added, already impatient. He was always on the move, both physically and mentally, he didn't like to settle down and take time for himself, which he wouldn't have known what to do with anyway. And he was always curious to know more about you.
“Would you help me make a man jealous?”
And above all, Javi was a player. So he smiled and replied, his eyebrow raised, “Absolutely.”
Joel and you had never really been official. You never had dinners with friends or family, you only spent some time together. Time that extended more and more in the last months, turning into nights spent at his place or yours. Or into lazy weekends where you barely got out of bed all day, your sweaty bodies heated by the sun rays streaming into the room. Until the night came and the moonlight took over.
You should have seen it coming, though. Joel had always been clear that he didn't want to be in a relationship. And maybe the bond between you was becoming too heavy for his liking.
However, when the “unofficial” ended, everything felt hollow. Not only because he was probably one of the most perfect guys you had met, attentive and soft, but taking charge when you needed him to. Or because you loved the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulder or your waist when you were walking side by side, showing his inner natural protectiveness. Life lost its color because the physical need of him was starting to eat you alive.
Now that you weren’t a “thing” anymore, Joel was always on your mind. Especially when you were touching yourself in your bed that still smelled like him, your pussy begging for his cock.
You had a hard time accepting that you were probably the only one feeling that need, considering he was the one that had ended it.
So when you learnt from a mutual acquaintance that Joel was having dinner at the restaurant next to his house on Friday night, you didn’t hesitate to involve Javi.
Javi and you were good friends. Friends with benefits, even, when you weren’t in a relationship, or in something “unofficial”.
Javi, on the other hand, was never in a relationship, it wasn’t his thing. He loved to be free.
You never fell in love with him, probably because you didn't want to be on his long list of heartbroken conquests. Javi always had a different woman on his arm, or a different man to hang out with. He was charming, sensual, full of self confidence, a “go with the flow” type. The most beautiful butterfly. It was out of the question for you to be charmed by the colors of his wings.
You were both ok with the special place you had for each other, and you loved to walk by his side, your arm around his slim waist, his around your shoulder, as if he was your boyfriend and you were his girl. You loved to feel envious glances of women on you in the streets, as Javi threw his both nonchalant and cunty look at them, before kissing your neck to tease them. They would ogle at him, lingering on his black leather jacket, the smell of which you loved so much, and his tight jeans that couldn’t hide the size of the cock resting there. But you were the one he took home to make you come as much as you needed to, until you were panting on the bed while he’d lit a post-sex cigarette. His gaze on you was always soft, tender and sweet when he would kiss your forehead. This was your Javi.
The men's gazes on him weren’t different, and you were amused when some of them had to readjust themselves after an eye-fucking session with Javi. Then he’d just point his chin the bar's bathroom, and they’d join him there.
He was a free spirit, he didn't hide it, and you loved it about him.
On Friday night, shortly before Joel was supposed to arrive, you and Javi were already at the restaurant, the table strategically chosen so Javi could watch the front door and the whole room.
“Late forties, slightly gray hair, ungroomed salt and pepper beard, broad ass shoulders, old green flannel, grumpy type?” Javi asked after you heard the door open, a few minutes later.
“Yep, that's him,” you answered.
Javi's smile widened. “Oh, this is gonna be fun,” he chuckled. “You didn't tell me he was that hot.”
Your dishes had just been served when Javi huffed “Ok, he bit. Did a double take at us and he doesn’t seem happy,” he smirked. He was way too good at this. Sassy. “I wonder how long it’ll take before he joins us.”
“What? Oh no, I don’t think he’ll do that,” you said, shaking your head.
“Oh, baby… wanna bet?”
You didn’t answer. You just hoped to get on Joel’s nerves a little with this fake date, and hadn’t really imagined he would go that far, but Javi seemed so sure of himself that you had some doubts now.
“Shit, he put the ketchup down on the table so hard I thought the cap was going to pop,” he laughed, unable to hide his amusement, as the idea of Joel being jealous pleased you.
“Ok, let’s tease him a little,” Javi added before wrapping his hand around yours.
“Javi!” you whispered, frowning, but he squeezed your hand, not letting you escape his grip, and looked at you with soft eyes. “Let me deal with it, baby, ok? That’s why you wanted me here, so trust me.”
You heard a loud chair scraping against the floor and then felt Joel’s presence near you. He sat down in the booth, looking at you first, then at Javi.
“Joel?” you said, your voice shaky, unable to hide your surprise at his bad mood. That wasn’t exactly like him. He tried to smile at you but it didn’t really reach his eyes, then turned to Javi, and grumbled “You are?”
“Javi, nice to meet you….?” he replied, waiting for Joel to say his name, smiling and full of charm, in total opposition to Joel's attitude.
“Joel.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Joel,” he said, before lighting a cigarette. “D'ya need some help?”
Javi's audacity was leaving you speechless as your gaze shifted from one man to the other.
“No I don't. Just wanted to say hi to my friend.”
“You seem too upset for someone who just wanted to say hi to a friend. Don’t you?” He took a drag and blew it towards Joel. “So why don't you stop bullshitting us and tell us why you're here? Because from the way I see it, you look jealous, Joel.”
He was so full of self-confidence, showing no hesitation, no wavering, his eyes fixed on Joel. You on the other hand... you wish you had the ability to snap your fingers and disappear instantly.
You looked at Joel, who surprisingly had a smile on his face. He was calm, unimpressed, his inner self finally back after this tensed introduction. You relaxed a little, as the pressure left your shoulders.
“You’re gonna tell me what this all is about, sweetheart?” he said softly, turning his gaze towards you. “Because if this guy was really a date… if you didn’t know him, I know you’d tell him to fuck off.”
Javi laughed, always confident in any situation. You, not so much, knowing that Joel had already figured it all out. You sighed, before answering “Javi’s a friend.”
“How much of a friend?”
“A good friend.”
“A good friend,” Joel repeated. “Ok. And you're both here by pure coincidence, or...?”
You looked down at your plate, unsure of how to respond. Being honest and implicitly admitting that you were not over the "ending", or lying. You were lost in your thoughts, knowing that the longer you took to respond, the more obvious the answer was.
You still didn't know what to say when Javi stepped in to help you.
"Oh come on man, stop torturing her."
Joel locked eyes with you as if he was crawling into your soul to find the answers. He frowned seeing what was there, a concern in his expression.
"Wanna come to my place? To talk about it?"
You hesitated. A part of you was glad that he was taking your emotions into account, even if they hadn't been expressed. You looked at Javi and asked him if he could join you, support you if needed, and help you gain perspective. When he nodded, you asked Joel if he was okay with that.
"Sure, sweetheart."
Once at Joel's, he offered you a drink and you all remained silent, until Javi rolled his eyes.
“Jesus, d’ya need me to be your matchmaker or what? What’s wrong with the two of you? But mostly, what’s wrong with you, man?”
“What is wrong with me? What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I happily fuck her each times she calls me. And I’d happily fuck her right now. So what’s your problem?”
“You let him talk about you like this?” Joel asked, turning to you. He clearly had a hard time understanding that you could be friends, but he didn't know Javi like you did, didn't know what he hid beneath his player’s attitude — the most reliable, protective, funniest friend. So emotionally smart that he blew your mind many times by reading people.
“Javi is… Javi,” you answered firmly. “We've been friends for a long time and I love him for being so open minded, for always being there for me, as I hope I am for him. So yeah, it’s ok. I fuck him happily, too, by the way.”
You couldn't help being harsh, your protective instinct towards your best friend taking over.
“Yeah, you do, baby,” Javi agreed, his smile cocky after hearing your words, checking you out openly before turning back to Joel. “You know what? I think you could be turned on in 2 minutes, if you saw what I’d do to her.”
You expected Joel to tell him to fuck off. You really did. But you realized it wouldn’t happen when you felt the atmosphere in the room change, becoming electric and sticky, and the smirk on Javi’s face showed that he felt it too.
"I’d kiss her the way she likes to be kissed,” he started to say, eyes fixed on yours. “I’d lick her lips to tease her and I’d feel her breathing quicken. I’d rub my cock against her because she loves to feel me getting hard. And then I’d push her against this table, right here, and I’d know, just by looking at her, if she wanted me to eat her out or to split her open. I’d watch her tits bounce while I fucked her hard and deep. And then I’d make her come on my cock, feeling her squeeze it hard. Feeling her shake. She’d make those little moans that I fed on. And I’d fill her with my cum, because I love to know it would ruin her panties and that each drop would remind her how good I fucked her.”
When he stopped talking, only the squeaking of his leather could be heard in the room. You took a deep breath, swallowed hard and resisted the urge to rush to him. To kiss him. To grab his ass and hold him against you, to feel his hardness.
“Shit…” Joel gruffed, putting his hands on his hips, his stare moving from Javi to you. You were soaked, a drooling mess, in the room with the two men, not knowing what to expect in that moment.
“I guess I was right about turning you on in no time. So, Joel… are you gonna watch me do it all by myself, or you gonna join me?”
Joel turned towards you and asked “you’re ok with it?”
“Yeah... Yes, I am. If you are, too.”
“Alright, then.”
“Come here, baby. Let’s show him how good we are at this.” Javi reached out his hand to you and you took it. He let his leather jacket fall onto the floor, revealing his chest covered by a black t-shirt, and you brushed his pecs.
“Bet you’re already droolin’ for me, after hearing this,” Javi uttered against the crease of your neck, but loud enough for Joel to hear. He smiled, feeling you shiver, running his long, thick fingers down your arms, the fingers that made you come so many times.
You could feel Joel's gaze on both of you. You wondered if he was hard. If he wanted to keep watching or if he wanted to join you. You heard him growl and your pussy clenched with need of being filled.
You smiled back at Javi. He was right, you two were good at this. Everything was so easy, so known, so healthy, your bodies speaking their own native language without words being necessary. Even though Javi loved to express his feelings, it was always just a bonus. That always made you even hornier.
“Yeah… and I bet you’re already hard for me,” you replied, brushing his cheek with your digits, looking at his beautiful face. You loved every single inch of that man, every cell of his body and brain.
“Damn right, I am.”
You kissed his torso after taking off his t-shirt, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck.
You loved his scent, the softness of his skin, its taste. And you loved his innate impatience, slightly restrained with tenderness when his hands were on you.
It could have been so easy to forget that someone else was there at that moment, but not when it was Joel. When you looked at him, he understood the unspoken, pulled his shirt off and moved closer, urging you to tilt your face up with his fingers. You kissed him, finally feeling his warm, plushy lips on yours, still pressed against Javi, who kissed your neck then lingered on it with his moustache, and your eyes closed in pleasure under their embrace.
Javi slid behind you, roamed your body with his hands from your hips to your breasts, while you were making out with Joel.
Javi slowly undressed you, then brushed your wet folds with his fingers and pressed his hard-on against your ass. Your legs weakened and you squeezed Joel's t-shirt with your fist, holding on to it. For the thousandth time since the beginning of your friendship, you told yourself that Javi was a sweet menace, the definition of sensuality and a call to sin. You were lucky to have a special place in his life.
“Feel it?”
“Hard to miss it, Javi,” you tried to chuckle, but moaned instead when your friend’s fingers caressed your cunt and Joel pushed his tongue into your mouth, his hands on your waist, his crotch pressing against you, too.
“Oh god,” you whined, as a part of you wondered if it was all a dream, if you were going to wake up soaked and alone in your bed.
Javi nibbled on your shoulder, and the slight pain confirmed it was real, you were really standing between these two men. You sighed with pleasure and kissed Joel again, your hand cupping his hard cock in his jeans.
“I love when you’re dripping for me… for us,” Javi murmured in your ear, pushing a digit in your drooling heat. “Are you into men, too, Joel?” he asked, kissing your shoulder then your neck.
“It’s been a while since the last time, but… Yeah.”
“Good. ‘cause you’re fucking hot,” your friend said, grabbing the back of Joel’s neck and crushing his lips against his over your shoulder, flooding your underwear with a new wave of arousal. You kissed Joel's cheek as they were making out, until your tongue gravitated to theirs.
“I understand why you’re so into him, baby,” Javi breathed out, parting from you two.
You locked eyes with Joel and felt heat reaching your cheeks when he smiled. Javi had many qualities, but subtlety was not one of them.
“Where’s your bedroom, Joel?”
“Over there,” he replied, leading the way.
Javi took your hand when you walked through the door, and led you to the bed as if it were his own room. He lay down on it, pulled you towards him, and Joel followed. You three began kissing, lips crushing on others in a hot dance, until Javi took your nipple in his mouth, sucked and nibbled on it gently, making you moan into Joel's mouth.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growled, slidding his palm to your crotch, and you pushed your hips upward to relieve the pressure that was driving you crazy. He chuckled against your lips, his fingers gliding easily over your soaked folds.
Javi sat up to push your knees apart and leaned down to kiss your inner thighs, his lips getting closer and closer to Joel's fingers buried in your pussy. He licked your folds and the other man's fingers, before sucking on your clit.
His tongue played with your cunt, moving up and down, pushing in between the digits.
“It’s turning you on, baby, having your pussy eaten right in front of your ex?” he teased, making your whole body tremble as you whimpered against Joel’s neck.
"He’s right. You’re soaking my fingers, sweetheart," the man chuckled, but his breath suddenly hitched when Javi cupped his bulge. He kissed your stomach and straightened up, and you were about to beg him to go down on you again when Javi unbelted your ex’s jeans and took off his clothes just like he did with yours. Javi let out a slow whistle, one eyebrow raised, appreciating the sight of Joel's naked body.
Joel's hard cock was twitching against his lower abdomen, its red tip oozing. His massive balls rested against his broad thighs. How many times had you stared at his body, just like Javi in that moment, your mouth suddenly dry at the sight of him?
Your clit throbbed, as Javi’s face was inches from Joel’s shaft. They were the most gorgeous men you had ever seen, and you wanted them to feel good. So you watched, mesmerised, your fingers replacing Joel’s in your cunt and then fucking you slowly.
“Well shit, Joel… I really wanna suck your dick, now,” Javi said looking up at him, making sure that Joel was into it.
“Go ahead.”
Javi spat in his hand and started jerking your ex off, smearing the precum with his thumb. When Javi took him in the mouth and his head began bobbing on his shaft, Joel quickly muttered a set of “fuck” and “shit,” one hand placed on the back of Javi’s neck, the other clenching the sheets.
Your fingers were moving back and forth between your folds, your empty pussy drooling on the bed, but you didn’t care about it, focusing only on the two men lying right beside you.
The glance Javi gave you looked like an invitation and you leaned down to lick Joel’s balls at first, then under them, where the skin was so delicate, and Javi moved them up to give you full access. His saliva flowed down to your throat when you took them in your mouth then licked the thick shaft. You took turns sucking Joel off, tangling your tongues on the way, turning your ex into a needy, whimpering and grunting mess.
“You’re so fucking pretty, baby, you know that?” Javi told you and the corners of your lips rose up as the flat of your tongue was moving up to Joel’s tip. "It's time to take care of you," he added, pushing you onto your back and lying down next to you. “Want you to come on his tongue.”
A strand of his hair fell on his forehead and you played with it a little, savoring your special closeness once again, grateful to know his tender side. He always looked at you as if you were the only woman he would always come back to, without ever asking for anything in return. You brushed his cheek and your thumb lingered on his lips. He was beautiful.
“You’re gonna make me really jealous,” Joel growled, pushing your thighs wide apart. His broad shoulders settled into your favorite place and Javi kissed the corner of your lips, listening to your moans when Joel let his saliva slide from his lips to your pussy.
You nibbled on Javi's lip when Joel grasped the back of your thighs and pushed them toward your chest to open you fully for him. He dragged his tongue over your soaked folds, reaching your throbbing clit. You squeezed Javi's biceps when his hand moved south, and you heard a sucking sound. A single thought of Javi’s finger between Joel’s lips, the sensuality of it, made you melt and you shivered when Javi brushed your bud softly with his wet digit while Joel was lapping at your cunt. You were feeling dizzy, limbs limp under their fingers and mouths, reduced to a moaning, weak mess between the two men who wanted you to feel good, too.
You clinged to Javi, lulled by his praise, half in English, half in Spanish, and then you came hard, your hips rocking towards the men, moaning into Javi’s neck who kept telling you, “you’re ok, baby, you’re ok. We got you,” until you stopped shaking.
Your friend stood up and lit a cigarette when Joel crawled up your body and lay between your thighs. His gaze on you was soft. You loved feeling his weight again, his arms wrapped around you, creating a bubble where you always felt safe. You took his cock and nestled it at your entrance, just to make him push your folds apart with his fat tip. Just to feel him again.
“You missed him, baby? Missed my cock? That's why you planned that restaurant thing?”
“Yeah, I missed him. Missed having you.”
“Oh, sweetheart, you know… I didn't back up because I didn't want you anymore. I backed up because I liked you too much.”
His eyes fixed on you were still warm but gradually they filled up with fire and intensity when he pushed inside you and didn’t stop until he bottomed out, the stretch making you whimper. You kissed him to forget about all the questions swirling in your mind, at least for a moment.
“OI! love birds? My dick's gonna get limp as fuck if you keep up this soft shit, jeez…” Javi grumbled, discarding his jeans and sitting against the headboard, cigarette between his lips. He was shameless, his gorgeous cock hard against his lower belly, wriggling as if begging for your lips. It was massive, too, in the same proportions as Joel's, and you couldn't believe how lucky you were to have those two men with you right now.
“Commando… Why am I not surprised?” Joel smirked before looking back at you. “Wanna take care of him while I’m fucking you, baby?”
Your mischievous smile shifted to Javi. Yeah, you wanted to take care of him, wanted them both inside you.
“Hands and knees for me, then.”
You put yourself on all fours and ran your tongue over Javi's shaft, pushing your ass out, allowing Joel to align himself and thrust in, as you took Javi into your mouth.
“Fuck, I missed your cunt, baby. You have no idea.” He pumped his cock in and out, clinging at your hips, his massive balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. He was going deep, and he was doing it slowly, to make you feel every inch of his cock.
You moaned, Javi’s tip between your lips, and he caressed your cheek, his ridiculously handsome face tilted down to you.
“You’re so fucking pretty, your mouth full of my cock. Pussy full of his. You’re doing so good, baby.”
His praise bewitched you, as Joel dug his fingers into your hips, holding you as he wished, rolling his hips against your ass.
“Tell me how it feels.”
You licked his shaft again, before stuttering “g- good. Fucking… good.”
“He’s big, right? I bet he’s stretching your little cunt wide open with his big dick.”
“Yeah… yeah, oh fuck!! He’s… he’s so big, Javi. You should… maybe you should try him.”
He smiled and looked at Joel. “If he’s able to leave this perfect hole to let me fill it, and if he wants to… why not?”
“Oh I want to, Javi. Lemme just…- oh, sweetheart, fuck! Easy, baby…. you’re squeezing me so hard, fuck… lemme just fuck her a little more,” Joel panted.
Javi slid beneath you until his body was aligned with yours, and Joel adjusted the position but didn’t stop pushing in. Your pussy was rubbing against Javi’s shaft, as you were licking at his lips, his tongue until your groans increased.
“You’re gonna come like that baby? Gonna give us another one?”
“Yeah,” you murmured, brushing your throbbing clit against him, covering him with your wetness that was dripping non-stop.
“F… fuck, Joel…” you breathed, eyes closed.
“Come on, baby, soak me. Lemme take my turn with you.” You moaned at the idea of them taking turns between your thighs, and clenched on Joel’s shaft, still humping against Javi.
“Oh fuck!! Fuck, fuck… I gotta… fuck I gotta pull out, shit…” Joel said, almost whimpering, hands still gripping your flesh, hips still thrusting in and out, before he finally pulled out.
“You're ok?”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck…. I… fuck…”
“Lay on your back for me, baby. We’re not done with you.”
You shifted position and watched Joel open his nightstand drawer, pull out a tube and coat his cock with the lube.
Javi lay between your legs, his head diving in to lick a long stripe between your folds, making him growl and mumble. “You taste like him. Always taste so fucking good, but I love to taste him on your cunt.”
“J… Javi,” you stummered, voice weak.
“Tell me,” he whispered, nose grinding against your clit, tongue fucking your dripping hole.
“Too… too much…”
“Really?” he smirked. “Why are you rubbing against me then?”
“I… fuck…” You grabbed his head, pulling him closer, the exquisite blend of mild pain and pleasure mingling together.
Joel's broad body appeared behind him, and your friend groaned at the touch of the lube-covered finger.
“Give him one more, sweetheart. You know you can give us more.”
Javi's grunting between your folds increased. You wondered how many fingers Joel was pushing in. One? Two? Another orgasm built in your core at the thought, your fingers digging into Javi's scalp, and you rolled your hips even harder than 10 seconds before.
“You’re so close, so fucking gorgeous like that. Wide open for us.”
His praise made you come on Javi’s tongue, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes onto the pillow. Javi crawled up to you, eyes dark, hair disheveled, drunk on your juices. He slid his tip along your folds, all the way to your clit and you shuddered at this new overstimulation, spreading your thighs wide, giving him full access. He pushed in and you felt whole again. Filled like you needed to be.
“Fuck… always so fucking perfect for me. So wet. He fucked you real good, didn’t he?”
“Yeah, he always does. You liked watching me getting fucked, Javi?”
He didn't respond right away, feeling Joel kneel behind him. “Answer her,” your ex said in a low, velvety voice.
“I loved it. Loved to see you fall apart in my arms. Loved to see you take it, how breathless you were.”
“You’re gonna be breathless too, soon,” you said when Joel placed one hand on Javi's hip.
“You want me there, Javi?”
“Shit, yeah,” he groaned and Joel pushed in slowly, making room for his cock.
“Kiss me. Kiss me. Let me feel you fall apart, too.”
“Oh fuck…”
“I know, baby, I know. You’re gonna feel so good soon. Let him in. Let him in, Javi.”
You knew that Joel bottomed out when Javi did the same inside you, driven by Joel's pace, his body quivering and shaking.
“Feel good?”
“Fuck… yeah. Shit.”
Joel picked up the pace, his eyes fixed on you. Yours were moving from one man to the other.
“You’re gonna come, Javi? Gonna fill my cunt?”
He nodded, unable to answer, his face twisted with pleasure. Joel's broad shoulders tensed, while his hands gripped Javi harder. One on his hip, the other on his shoulder for leverage. Javi was thrusting into you at the same pace Joel was sinking into him. You licked Javi's neck before nibbling on his earlobe.
“Babe…” he whined.
“Give it to me, Javi,” you said, eyes fixed on Joel.
“Fuck! I’m gonna come….”
Javi moaned as his cum coated your walls, and didn’t stop humping you until you milked his cock to the last drop, the jolts of his body beneath your fingers and between your thighs then slowing down before they stopped.
Joel was chasing his climax, thrusting hard and deep, hands on Javi’s hips. His jaw clenched and his body tensed, the veins in his neck bulging, as he threw his head back in pleasure when he bottomed out one last time. He froze, groaning, his large hand gripping Javi's shoulder tightly.
“Fuck,” Javi groaned, before they pulled out and plopped on the bed, Javi between the two of you. You were catching your breaths, bodies covered in sweat.
“See? Told you to trust me, baby, there at the restaurant,” Javi smiled and raised his arm for you to curl up against him.
“I’m glad I did,” you said before kissing his chest.
Your hand brushed Javi’s belly then reached Joel, and grabbed his side. He smiled at you.
You didn't know what your future held with those two men, but the weekend was just beginning.
More Javi x reader x Joel: Blackmail series (different AU)
Thank you for reading 🙏
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npt: tagging those who showed interest in the wip wednesday posts ❤️
i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands)
pairing: Pero Tovar x fem!reader
rating: E for Explicit
word count: 2.2k
warnings: 18+ content, fingering/hand job, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, brief talk of injury/treatment (reader gives him stitches), reader has no physical description besides breasts and feminine clothing, Tovar is able to lift reader
a/n: my submission for @iamasaddie's kinky may challenge! i was given the honor of writing Tovar with a praise kink 😤 i haven't written smut in a long time so please be gentle 🥲 extra special shoutouts to @frannyzooey and @joelscruff for hyping me up with the snippets i shared with them. feedback is always welcome, i was equal parts excited and scared to write this so i'd love to hear what y'all think 🙂
Tovar squirms again, making your hand slip and press harder on the wet rag you’re using to clean the sizeable gash along his right collarbone. He hisses slightly through his teeth before glancing down at you. You glare at him and huff once more.
“I told you to stop moving.”
Before he can respond, you hike up your skirt with your free hand and straddle his thighs. Tovar freezes completely upon your sudden movement, gripping the bench now supporting the both of you, his brows raised as you lock eyes.
“Now, hold still.”
You twist to the table next to you and pick up a sewing needle and thread, taking a moment to hold the needle in the flame of a lit candle to sterilize it before threading the eye. You don’t ask if he’s ready before beginning to stitch the wound.
Your stitches are slow but precise in the low candlelight. When you finish, you lean forward slightly to cut the thread with your teeth and secure the ends. It’s only when you pull away to set aside your tools that you notice Tovar’s breathing, or rather the lack of. He’s completely still as a statue, focused on a vague point off in the distance behind you.
“Did it really hurt that much?” You maneuver to try and catch his eyes but he veers away. You teasingly brush your fingertips down his muscular bicep. “I thought a big, tough mercenary like you could handle more than a few stitches without a fuss.”
Tovar clears his throat and his voice comes out lightly strained and breathy. “It is…not my wound that is the trouble.”
He shifts uncomfortably beneath you and you feel it. His full erection is pressed against your bare inner thigh. You can feel his weight and warmth just as he can feel yours. You bite back a smirk when he passes you a guilty glance.
“Forgive me, my dear. It has been a long time since I’ve felt a woman’s touch.”
You pause to consider your next move. You can’t deny your own attraction to the man, and you’ve been experiencing an extended dry spell of your own. It’s a miracle your own arousal hasn’t found its way to the front of his trousers where you’re still perched. Who knows how long he’ll stay here at the Wall? Who knows if he’ll even live to see another moonrise? What’s the harm in a little release?
You smirk and look up at him through your eyelashes. “Allow me to relieve your pain, then.”
You slide back on his thighs far enough to reach between the two of you and unfasten his pants. He grips your wrists with one thick, massive hand to stop you from going further.
“I cannot ask you to do that.” His voice and eyes are stern, intent on not crossing any unwanted boundaries.
You look back at him with sincerity. “You’re not asking me. I want to.”
“Querida-”
“No one ordered me to tend to your wound. I came because I wanted to. I wanted to help you,” you gently pry your hands from his grasp, “and I’m not leaving until I’ve finished helping you.”
Tovar’s expression is difficult to read. You can see the turmoil behind his eyes, so you try to make the decision easier for him. Shifting closer once more, you take his hand and guide it between your own legs. The corner of your mouth twitches up as his pupils dilate upon coming in contact with your soft, damp hairs. You press him further into your wetness, cupped fully in the palm of his hand now, and he breathes in sharply.
“If you truly want me to go-”
“No.” Tovar cuts you off quietly. You smile in satisfaction when you remove your hand but his does not budge. “But I will not indulge in what is not offered.”
Striking your final blow, you undo the strings closing the top of your tunic, shrugging the shoulders off and letting it fall around your waist. Your breasts are exposed, nipples peaking in the cool night air from the window beside you. Tovar’s eyes are ablaze now as he takes you in, using every last bit of his willpower to resist until you give the word.
“Is this offering enough?”
The breath is stolen straight from your lungs as Tovar plunges one thick finger inside you up to the knuckle, his other hand smoothing up your bare thigh to your ass cheek and grasping it. He tugs you close so your tits are pressed to his solid chest as he slowly pumps in and out of you.
Your hands fly to his shoulders to steady yourself, but you move them away just as quickly when you put pressure on his fresh stitches. Tovar only grunts softly, otherwise not acknowledging the slip. You instead find a handhold along his ribs, gripping him tightly as warmth begins to spread up into your belly. He nuzzles his nose into your cheek, breathing deep and focused as he eases a second finger inside and increases his speed. You gasp at the foreign stretch and claw at his sides.
Tovar’s hips buck into you at the pinch, and you’re reminded of your initial mission. One hand slips past his waistband and settles on his hip. You bow your head and spit into the other before reaching down his front to grasp his length. The two of you groan simultaneously at the new sensation. You start pumping him, matching the pace of his fingers.
Your motions soon falter, though, as Tovar curls his fingers to press into your sweet spot. Your head falls to the side and rests on his, unable to stay up on its own as the wave of euphoria builds and threatens to crest. You fight to maintain your own strokes as Tovar chuckles from deep in his chest into your ear.
“You’re doing so good for me, querida. So soft and warm, so tight.” He cuts himself off with a stronger groan as your hand on his hip circles back to the top of his ass, while the one wrapped around his cock slides down to cup his balls as well. “I know you’re close. Don’t fight it, bonita. Give it to me.”
The wave comes crashing over you with his encouragement. You mouth drops open as you make no attempt to smother your cries. Tovar flexes as your hips rut against him.
“Very good. Let it out, let me hear you.”
Tovar continues his movements until you’ve completely come down from your high, though it begins to build again almost as soon as it dissipates. Finally, he removes his fingers, making a soft pop as your walls try to suck him back inside. He raises them to his lips and generously sucks off all your release from them, never once breaking eye contact. You feel a fresh gush of arousal drip down your thigh at the sight. You quickly fumble to pull down his trousers and free his raging cock. Tovar tilts his hips, tugging them down to his mid-thighs, but grasps you by the waist before you can impale yourself on him.
“I need you to say it first, mi amor. I simply cannot take what is not freely given.”
“Then take me,” you huff impatiently.
Tovar loosens his grip enough for you to rise onto your knees, notching the weeping head of his cock at your entrance. You lock eyes with him and take a deep, steadying breath before sinking down. You cry out in both pain and pleasure, the stretch more intense than his fingers especially after so long without. Tovar moans along with you, letting out a pained shout of his own as you take him all the way inside, settling onto his lap once more.
You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his scent of sweat and a hint of gunpowder, your breath hot against his skin. You try rocking your hips to relieve some of the tension, but Tovar abruptly stands, slipping out but clutching you to him tightly. You whine at the loss, then gasp when you feel the coolness of the thin sheets adorning the simple bed in the opposite corner of the room.
Tovar settles above you, supporting most of his weight on his knees and forearms. His pelvis rests lightly between your spread legs, his hardness bobbing against your mound with every breath. The dark trail of hair leading up his abdomen tickles your stomach, and you take the opportunity to truly admire the specimen hovering above you. The rippling muscles in his back, littered with long-healed battle scars breaking up the smooth skin. His dark hair, cut short but curling slightly at the nape of his neck. You rake your fingers through it, pulling him close. Tovar rests his forehead against yours, lips parted, exchanging breath. His gaze is piercing but you feel yourself being pulled in rather than pushed away.
Tovar must feel the same as he leans down just enough that your lips brush, but not seal together. You whimper his name on the verge of desperation and he closes the gap. He immediately takes charge, his tongue invading your mouth, feeling and tasting every crevice. You buck into him once again and he rips away from you, pinning your hips to the bed with one hand splayed across your lower belly.
You want to scream in frustration. “Tovar, please!”
“Shh, I know, mi amor. I know what you need. And you’ve been so good for me, I promise I will give it to you.” He moves his hand away and guides his tip back inside, pressing in slowly until his hips are flush with yours. The two of you groan in sync again and you wrap your legs around him, locking him in. “But we must go slow. I would hate to finish too quickly and bring an end to such pleasure that has only just begun.”
With this, he captures your lips with his own once more. You two stay locked like this for a while, savoring each other’s taste and touch. Tovar’s hands explore your body as you did his, tracing bones and squeezing flesh. Only when you feel totally consumed by him does he retreat from you, leaving only his tip inside. Tilting your chin up to look at him, he sinks back in to the root. And again. And again. Your second high hits you without warning as he sets the perfect rhythm.
Tovar bites back a guttural moan as he feels you tighten around him. “Dios mio, mi amor. You’re taking me so well. I would stay just like this forever if I could, buried in this cunt.”
You feel as if you’re floating, evaporating into the air from his heat and force of his thrusts. Your pleasure reaches new heights as he cups the back of your knee and pushes it up to your chest, welcoming him impossibly deeper. Tovar’s intense gaze remains on your face as he fucks you, committing every sound and expression of bliss to his memory.
You feel the wave cresting again just as his hips begin to stutter but never lose their force. You try to call out his name, a warning of your impending release, but you only manage pleading cries of “please.”
He understands immediately, snaking his other arm underneath you and up to your shoulder, pulling you against him as he slams into you. His voice is just as desperate, strained from holding off his own release to wait for yours.
“That’s it, mi amor. Cum for me. Cum on my cock. I want it. I need it. I crave it.” His snarling in your ear tips the scales in your favors, sending you over the edge. Your legs tighten around him as your back arches off the mattress. Tovar takes one breast into his mouth, biting and sucking his mark onto you. He unlatches in time to smack his hips to yours once, twice, three more times. A roar erupts from him as his cock pulses, forcing out rope after rope of his cum to coat your walls, content to plant there and never escape.
He fills you to the brim, milky white droplets beginning to seep out from where your hole has sealed around him. When he’s finally spent, he lowers himself flush to you, arms curling around your back. The salty, heady scent of your activity surrounds the two of you as you each fight to regain your senses.
You card your fingers through his hair once more as Tovar turns his head to press his lips to your neck. Soft at first, then open and hungry, nipping at the skin to coax out another mark matching the one on your breast, tongue soothing the spot after each bite.
You hear his breath begin to deepen and slow, feel his heartbeat matching it. You know you shouldn’t allow yourself to fall asleep beneath him. But how could you rip yourself from his arms now?
As if sensing your thoughts, Tovar rests his head atop yours, gazing into your eyes once more, lids half-closed.
“Ay, mi amor. I have half a mind to steal you away with us. What kind of man would I be to leave behind such perfection?” He seals your lips together and, at the same time, your mind.
WAGNER MOURA
winner of the Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Motion Picture – Drama award for "The Secret Agent" at the 83rd Annual Golden Globe Awards (Jan 11, 2026)
Summary: The journey through Sorgan continues, bringing with it new insights, wonders, and dangers. Navigating a conflict like this wasn't something Din expected, and the things about him you learn along the way leave you with more questions than ever before.
Pairing: Assassin!Din Djarin x Princess!reader (no y/n)
Series Content: medieval-ish AU, assassin!Din, princess!reader, fluff, slow burn, sexual tension, falling in love, angst, mentions of injuries/scars, depictions of violence, usage of weapons, Din’s POV and reader’s POV, side character death
Din couldn’t recall the last time he had gone this long without a single moment of solitude.
Having at least one constant someone at his side for three days straight was exhausting; it seemed that sleep was his only route to any sort of escape, which meant he had only felt relief two separate times since departing from the palace.
It was perplexing to see how energetic you all still were, the brazen eagerness everyone had to continue the journey. Did you all ever get tired of each other?
You especially confused him. Mandalorian royalty hardly traveled at all. In fact, Din couldn’t recall a time during his life when the Queen had even left the confines of the palace.
But you? You wanted this. You sought it out. And you were so active and invested in every visit you made. It was as though the conditions of the open road and consistently unfamiliar terrain gave you strength rather than drained it.
The six of you had departed yet another small village that afternoon, and the wagon was now steadily moving along while the sun dipped below the horizon. Din watched it dye the sky in hues of fiery orange and soothing blue as he floated between reality and dreamland, not quite letting himself succumb to the darkness.
The wagon’s abrupt stop jolted him back to the light.
“Must be time to switch,” you said from beside him while you opened the door, voice as chipper as ever. “You coming, Mr. Vaun?”
That’s right. The two of you were next in line to drive. Din sighed and followed you out, leaving sleep behind for when the next destination was reached.
~~~~
He seemed so tired.
And who could blame him? He tended to act like a bit of a lone wolf, which was something you didn’t consider when you invited him on this excursion.
A stream of guilt washed through you as you mounted the front of the wagon, the small space forcing your thigh to rest against his. You gulped and gripped the reins in your fists.
You listened and waited for the telltale creak of the wagon door to tell you that everyone else was secured inside before snapping your wrists and setting the horses back in motion.
The next rest stop was still a few hours away, creating a rare instance in which the group had no choice but to let you be outside during the night. You took a deep breath and let the crispness of the dimming dusk encapsulate your senses.
Mr. Vaun was silent beside you. As the wagon rocked along, his arm occasionally bumped into yours. His body heat seeped into your skin, and only then did you realize how cold you were. It was like he was breathing life back into your frozen frame. Ironically, the sensation made you shiver.
Muffled conversations bled out of the wagon windows; the galloping of the horses made it hard to pick out exact words, but the happy vocal tones and occasional laugh were enough to tell that they were having a good time.
Out of the corner of your eye, Mr. Vaun leaned his head back until it collided with the backrest. Intent on not bothering him you kept your eyes forward and bit back any instinctive conversation starters that threatened to spill from your lips.
When the sun had completely disappeared and made way for the stars to shine, when the voices in the wagon grew quieter and quieter, you let out a sigh and cast your eyes upward.
The black moon gave the stars full reign over the night; they twinkled and glistened before you like a sea of diamonds, weaving together until you could make out a slight outline of the galaxy.
You scanned over each pattern with a smile, mentally recalling the constellations and various planets that were resting above you, poking out of the wonders to say hello. When was the last time you’d gotten to gaze at them like this? You couldn’t recall.
A slight noise from beside you made you jump. Mr. Vaun had cleared his throat.
“Your Highness,” he started, voice soft, as if not to further spook you, “Are you cold?”
“I thought you were asleep,” you said with a breathy laugh, your heart still pumping. “But I’m okay, it’s not so bad tonight.”
“You sure? Your leg is freezing.”
You looked down at where your thigh met his. In lieu of an answer, you met his gaze again with a shrug and returned your attention to the road. A sigh and some rustling sounded from him just before a warmth overtook you.
When you turned to him, you discovered his cloak now missing from his frame.
“A-are you sure?” you asked, “I don’t want you getting too cold without this-”
“I won’t. Please use it.”
His tone was finite. You sighed and drew the cloak closer around you, nuzzling into the soothing heat it provided.
“Thank you.”
You brought it up to cover the lower half of your face, letting your nose thaw out. The cloak smelled so pleasant: earthy, with a hint of fire, steel, and something else you couldn’t quite place. You breathed it in and smiled as your shoulders relaxed.
What a delightful aroma.
When you finally resurfaced, nose no longer numb, you flinched upon finding Mr. Vaun staring down at you. His gaze was heavy, calculating, as if he’d caught you in the midst of something unsavory. His brows narrowed and made his expression all the more stern. Your eyes bugged out as you looked back, an abashed heat rushing all too quickly into your ears and cheeks.
What exactly was he looking for? Was he assuming something from your reaction? You tried to search through the words in his eyes, but couldn’t quite make out their questions in the dark.
He leaned towards you the slightest bit, making you instinctively crane your neck to maintain eye contact. You gulped under his dark, piercing aura. It was like he was able to see into the deepest recesses of your mind and pick out any information he wanted.
If looks could act, something told you this one would pin you to your place and leave you unable to escape.
Your muscles began to tighten. That same sensation of silent danger resurfaced, like something was about to snap and unleash its wrath on you. Something that lived deep, deep within.
Why did this always happen around him?
“There we go,” he said after what seemed like an eternity, leaning back up and facing forward.
In a flash, the trance was broken.
“W… what?”
“Your face has color again. You were looking a bit pale earlier. We can’t have you getting sick.”
You let out a shaky “oh,” the danger seeping away once more like the tide pulling back into the sea. You gulped down a lungful of air in an attempt to recenter yourself. What in hell was that?
“I… don’t think I’ve ever seen this many stars before.”
You snapped back into the moment and found Mr. Vaun gazing upward. The stars reflected against his irises, making them gleam in a way that took your breath away.
“Gorgeous,” you sighed, “...isn’t it?”
He glanced at you with a small nod.
“I saw you looking up earlier – what were you doing?”
“Oh, I was just mapping constellations and stuff in my head,” you said with a shrug.
“... mapping what?”
His brow furrowed, eyes squinting. You tilted your head in response.
“Constellations,” you started slowly, “Pictures in the sky.”
He blinked at you, looking even more confused. You smiled.
“They didn’t teach you much about astronomy in Coruscant, did they?”
He gulped and shook his head, gaze dropping into his lap. Regret and guilt immediately gripped you and you reached a hand towards him.
“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that."
He gently shook his head. You bit your lip; how easy it was to forget that access to knowledge was a privilege. Especially for you.
You glanced back up at the stars, as if they’d give you the perfect solution to resolve the now awkward air. When an idea suddenly came to you, it was hard to think that it didn’t really come straight from them.
“... Would it be okay if I showed you?”
Mr. Vaun glanced in your direction, yet not meeting your eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“I could teach you,” you stretched your shaky hand into the air, “I could tell you about the stars and show you what pictures I’m seeing.”
He was silent, but sat straighter as his eyes followed your pointing finger. You took that as your cue and cleared your throat.
“S-so this one here, do you see those three bright stars in a row like that?”
He nodded.
“That’s the most recognizable part of Orion, a constellation about a mythological hunter.”
You continued to delve into the story of Orion and map out the remainder of the constellation as best you could, pausing to make sure he was still interested and engaged.
“And do you see that little fuzzy spot under the belt?”
“Yes.”
“That’s actually something called a nebula. In essence it’s a big cloud of space dust that stays collected together. They call that one the Orion Nebula because it’s within the constellation. Though because of its placement, I just like to call it Orion’s crotch.”
He let out something between a choke and a snicker, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. You laughed and patted his back, relishing in the brief warmth seeping through his tunic.
The more you spoke, the more wonderment seemed to bleed into his expression. He began to ask questions, point to specific stars and inquire about them. You walked him through the winter sky’s various tales and visitors from other areas of the galaxy, and even a few visible adjacent ones.
“And that star there, do you see how it looks like it’s twinkling?”
“Yeah. It almost looks multicolored.”
“That is a binary star system. That means two different stars are orbiting each other, and they’re spinning around so fast that to us, it just looks like one colorful blur.”
His eyes widened as he continued to stare up. You grinned. It was like his inner child was awakening.
“I had no idea,” he breathed. “There’s… so much out there.”
“It’s fascinating,” you started, “And honestly, there’s still so much more we just don’t know about yet.”
Mr. Vaun gave a small shake of his head and continued to stare at the shimmering sky. You couldn’t keep your smile from growing, your heart filling with a warmth you weren’t quite familiar with. It was reminiscent of a campfire: inviting, protective, and jovial. An iridescent beam that made the stars seem to dance before your eyes.
Conversation grew lighter as you drove on, the last leg of the trip going by quicker than you anticipated. You awoke your weary party and they slowly made their way inside the inn while Mr. Vaun got the horses situated.
You waited outside the entrance until he returned, brow rising in surprise upon seeing you. The dim light from the sconce cast a flickering yellow glow onto half his features, outlining the sharpness of his cheeks and jaw, the curve of his nose, the beautiful deep brown of his right eye.
“You didn’t need to wait.”
“No problem,” you shrugged. “Didn’t want you feeling left behind.”
Even through the night his eyes betrayed intrigue and confusion, but also a hint of something else. Relief? Joy? Pain? You couldn’t place it.
The silent air was cold, yet sweet. You were still wearing Mr. Vaun’s cloak, pulling it closer to your frame. He fiddled with his fingers and looked to the ground.
“... Thank you. For tonight.”
“Of course,” you smiled. “It was nothing! I’ll gladly ramble about the stars anytime.”
He huffed and grinned, his sight rising just a bit.
“And thank you. For this,” you began to unwrap the cloak to return it, but somehow his hands were quicker to anchor it down on your shoulders.
How he closed the distance between you so fast, you could not comprehend.
Your wide eyes looked up to meet his intense, narrowed ones.
“Keep it. You might get cold in the night.”
His hands were still impossibly warm, encasing your shoulders with room to spare. Their weight was grounding, alive, almost as though it were speaking something into your body.
In a snap, as if he didn’t realize what he’d done, Mr. Vaun withdrew them in a haste.
“Get some rest, Your Highness.”
“I-I will,” you breathed, still processing the sensation. “As should you. Good night, Mr. Vaun.”
~~~~
Din clenched his hands into fists at his sides while he watched you walk into the inn, your silhouette shrouded in his cloak.
He let out an irritated sigh. There must’ve been a dozen perfect opportunities within the last hour – including just now – where he could’ve gotten it over with.
Everyone else had been asleep for most of the ride. He could’ve been merciful, done it quickly while you talked about something you enjoyed. He could’ve simply thrown you off the wagon and claimed it to be an accident.
…He could’ve moved his hands just a bit higher off your shoulders and flicked his wrists. You wouldn’t have felt a thing.
But that look in your eyes… It stopped him every time.
There was something in them, something new and hypnotic that he needed to uncover.
Why was he so curious? So desperate to know? What was it about you that flipped his priorities so drastically?
… And so easily?
He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in the gentle night air, gazing up at the dazzling sky. Your words echoed through his head, the lines between the stars somehow now drawing themselves and bringing the constellations to life.
Nights in Mandalore didn’t look anything like this. The sky was hardly visible at all between the endless towering fortresses, and what could be seen were clouds of sad, polluted gray.
But here, the sky was so clear. So open.
Limitless.
It had color, texture, and soul. It left one breathless, stunned in place. Entirely at its mercy.
How was it that something so beautiful could be tied to something so bad?
~~~~
In the shallow light of dawn, you awoke and stretched your stiff arms. You sat up and took in your cozy surroundings, finding Fennec still asleep in the cot across from yours.
You rose and freshened up before heading down to the lobby, finding Cobb and Omera already feasting on plates of breakfast. Once you joined them the three of you engaged in light conversation, framed by other visitors in the small dining area.
Fennec, Koska, and Mr. Vaun were quick to arrive, giving the whole party a chance to relax together before the wagon was once again boarded and ready for departure.
Koska and Omera took the first driving shift while you sat beside Fennec, discussing the route for the remainder of your trip.
“It’s funny how time flies,” you said. “I can’t believe we’re already halfway through.”
“I’m surprised there haven’t been any problems,” Cobb said with a smirk. “I thought we’d surely run into some trouble by now.”
“Let’s hope it stays this way,” Fennec said with a pointed look.
Cobb raised his hands in defeat and gave a coy smile.
Just as you let out a small chuckle, the wagon suddenly rumbled. Fennec rushed to stick her head out the window, but Koska yelled out before she even spoke a word.
“Thugs!”
In a blur, horses suddenly surrounded each side of the wagon, forcing it to come to a halt.
You locked eyes with Fennec and nodded before drawing your sword. Everyone else followed suit, unsheathing their weapons and jumping out to face the offenders.
You sliced your way through them, blocking blows from soaring spears and hidden daggers, taking on multiple assaulters at once. Fennec was right by your side, combining her own stash of weapons with her fists to knock down a fair chunk of the assailants.
You had no visual of the others, and through the multiple voices crying out in your ears, it was hard to audibly discern their positions. They were tough ones, though. No need to worry. This was the exact reason you chose them to come along.
A strangled groan cut through the other voices. You turned to see that Mr. Vaun had just impaled a man on his spear.
You froze. Mr. Vaun was holding him by the back of the neck, ensuring his weapon wasn’t interrupted. The light left the man’s eyes, and Mr. Vaun pulled on his spear as if he had merely cut into a fruit, yanking it out with abandon before dropping him to the ground and moving on to his next opponent. He took him down quickly, putting on just as much of a show with his corpse.
This was far from your first encounter with death. But the nonchalant nature of Mr. Vaun’s actions… they left your blood running cold.
His facial expression… It was calm. Collected. Not a single sense of fear or even exertion. He almost looked bored. And the strange sense of intimacy that accompanied his gestures – pinning someone in place while stabbing them, holding them close while he choked the life out of them – it was like nothing you’d ever seen. How can someone take a life in a way that seems so comfortable?
You stared at the first limp figure, blood staining the dirt and grass underneath him a deep maroon, his dead eyes wide open in shock.
You had only taken a small few lives in your time. Each one haunted you, their blank faces sometimes appearing before your eyes without warning. Reminders that they were real people that would still walk the world if it wasn’t for you. How in the world did Mr. Vaun cause such havoc so easily, as if it were nothing?
… Was this why he felt so dangerous? Was this the reason your gut wanted to run away whenever he got too close to you?
A sudden severe jolt of pain in your side interrupted your thoughts. You wanted to scream, yet it was as though your voice was muted. You slumped onto your knees, your hand feeling around the area and coming away coated in dark blood.
You winced and shook your head, scolding yourself as the sharp pain emanated through your body. You’re never so careless. Why now? No one should be able to sneak up on you like that.
Your vision grew blurry, your head spinning and ears ringing as the sounds around you dulled down. Various voices shouted at you. You raised your fuzzy gaze just as Fennec leaned down beside you, her worried expression being the last thing you saw before the world vanished.
~~~~
Fennec’s shout for backup rang through the cacophony of clashing metal and battle cries. Din turned her way to see you slumped over in her arms, half drenched in a deep red sheen, your side freely bleeding out.
He didn’t register running to your side, or wrenching you up from Fennec and carrying you back to the wagon with every ounce of speed he could muster. He paid no mind to the masses surrounding him, or the dead bodies in his pathway. He just stared down at your increasingly paling face, your now dulled lips, your limp neck making your head dangle over his arm. The life was trickling out of you the way dew dripped off a heavy leaf: slow, deliberate, and undoubtedly more painful by the second.
Din’s nerves jolted about like a swarm of bees. He had to act fast.
The others kept the remaining bandits away while he hauled you into the wagon, tearing at the supplies until he found the first aid materials.
His bloody hands sifted through the kit and worked on their own accord, applying pressure to the wound with a cloth. He squeezed with all his might, hoping to stop the flow even as the cloth grew redder and redder. He took shallow breath after shallow breath, desperate to keep the panic at bay.
He trapped more cloths against your wound with a wrap. As he wound it tightly around your waist, he felt a silent sense of gratitude that you weren’t conscious to feel the pain of it.
Once that was through, he glanced out the window.
The crowd had died down, most of them dead or on the retreat. Fennec, Koska, and Cobb were taking care of the final stragglers while Omera made her way to the wagon, casually ripping an arrow from the chest of a prior victim as she approached.
“Is she okay?” she cried.
“I think she will be. I still need to work on the wound once it stops bleeding.”
Omera nodded and stepped in, kneeling at your side.
“It’s a good thing you got her out as fast as you did. We definitely would’ve lost her otherwise.”
She laid a gentle hand on your forehead, stroking your skin and wiping off the dirt that laid there.
Her words made the gears begin to shift. The scenes he just lived through replayed themselves in Din’s head so rapidly it made him dizzy. He grunted and plopped his head into his hand, taking a seat across from you.
Omera was right. You would’ve died if he’d done nothing. His job would be done. Mandalore would be happy.
What the hell, he thought.
Isn’t that exactly what I’m supposed to want?
~~~~
A gentle rocking stirred you awake. You winced as sunlight pierced your eyes and brought up a hand to shield them.
W… what day is it? Where am I?
“Your Highness?”
The whisper diverted your attention to its source. Mr. Vaun was looking towards you from the other side of the wagon, his brows intensely knitted together, expression tight.
“... What… happened?” you groaned, throat dry and scratchy.
“You were stabbed. Try not to move too much, you’re still healing.”
As if on cue, the pain resurfaced. You grunted as your side pulsed with it, a hand coming down to feel bandages under your now ripped and blood-stained tunic. You took deep breath after deep breath, slowly looking around to find an otherwise empty wagon – trails and trails of blood dying the light wood in marbled shades of umber – that was definitely in motion, and your head laying on something slightly softer than the wood of the bench.
“Where… where are we? Where’s everyone else?”
“They’re outside. Fennec and Cobb are driving, Koska and Omera are watching from behind. Can’t risk another sneak attack.”
You sighed and let your head plop back down, your hand coming up to your forehead. The dried blood on your palm was grainy and coarse; the sheer amount of it almost had you feeling faint again. Your head was heavy, your body impossibly stiff and weak. Memories of the fight began to slowly seep back into your brain, making you groan.
How could you let this happen?
“I can’t believe this,” you whispered. “If I hadn’t lost focus-”
You cut yourself off as you remembered why you lost it. You looked up at Mr. Vaun before turning your gaze away, the image of him massacring those lifeless bodies with the ease of a breath and the touch of a lover encasing your mind’s eye.
“... You’re alive. That’s what counts.”
His tone, while curt, was lined with a tenderness you could hardly make out. You weren’t sure if you should let it comfort you – not after seeing what he was capable of.
“Now rest,” he went on, “we’re almost there.”
“Almost where?”
“The capital.”
”... Wait- what?!”
Your attempt to sit up was immediately protested by your stab wound, a yell of pain escaping your lips as the pain tore through you. Mr. Vaun sprung from his seat and guided your shoulders back down.
“Why are we going back home?” You gritted. “We’re not done with the route yet!”
“Yes. We are. Have you seen yourself?”
“Oh come on,” you flopped back down. “It’s a small flesh wound-”
“You bled out, Your Highness.”
The increasing strength of his tone immediately silenced you. Mr. Vaun peered down at you again, his face growing more serious.
“You lost more blood in those few moments than anyone I’ve ever seen. You almost died in Fennec’s arms.”
That made a shiver run down your spine. Just how deep did that dagger go?
You sighed and pressed your hand onto your forehead again. You could only imagine what was going through Fennec’s mind. The pain, the guilt… she’ll never not blame herself for this.
That’s probably why she’s not in here right now, you thought. She can’t bear to face me. The notion made you choke up.
You were lucky to have someone as devoted to your safety as Fennec. As everyone on that wagon, for that matter. Masking the pain would get you nowhere, you decided.
“… Fine. I suppose I have no other choice. We’ll get to the rest of the villages next time.”
Even though that ‘next time’ would almost surely be never, knowing your mother, it was a small positive to think about. You mapped out the last leg of the trip in your mind: there were four villages left. You only hoped they wouldn’t be too terribly disappointed by your sudden absence.
Mr. Vaun let out a low hum and pointed his gaze out the window, still kneeling beside you.
You took in a slow breath and thought about the others. Omera was probably the first to help you. Koska must’ve taken her anger out on the remaining thugs, or maybe she didn’t realize what had happened until it was over. And Cobb, he likely feels as though he ‘jinxed it’ with his comment. That made you chuckle — then wince.
“I’m glad the rest of you are okay, at least,” you breathed. “This just proves I’m good at picking a defense team.”
Mr. Vaun glanced at you before a small grin pulled at his lips.
The image of him with that spear assaulted your mind again. There had to be something more to him, something that would explain that level of skill. He knew exactly where to stab to make the death quick. It wasn’t messy until they hit the ground – no, his part was crisp and clean. You couldn’t help wondering if his victims even felt pain when he killed them.
“If I may…” you began. He gave you a quizzical look.
“Yes?”
“Um… where did you learn to fight like that?”
His neck muscles flexed as he gulped, eyes growing a shade darker.
“… I was on my own a lot,” he said, looking at your face but not quite at your eyes. “Had to know how to defend myself.”
“It just— it looked very… easy for you.”
You bit your lip and waited. You hoped your words were delicate enough, but his stagnant expression was not helpful in determining your success.
“I take it you haven’t had to kill anyone?”
You couldn’t help being angry at the assumption.
“Of course I have,” you narrowed your gaze, the unpleasant memories resurfacing in your mind’s eye. “I never ask anyone to do anything I wouldn’t do myself.”
His lips pulled into a straight line, a small sigh flowing out of his nostrils. You felt its brief cold brush on your skin. His eyes held that analytic sense again, like he was trying to pick apart your words and get to what laid beneath them. You held your ground.
“Then you know.” he lifted his gaze from you. “It’s never an easy thing to do. Not even if it’s your only choice.”
Something about his tone made it impossible not to trust him. But then what the hell had you seen out there?
Your eyes trickled down from his face and saw a very bloodied hand resting on your leg. Panic creeped through your bones, goosebumps littering your arms. Your remaining curiosity was forgotten.
“Uh…” your voice dropped to a whisper, your hand coming up to point a hesitant finger. “Whose is that?”
Mr. Vaun followed your gaze and held up his arm, turning it around and showing you just how much was on it: as if his skin had been dyed a dark, muddy brown, his hand looked even more menacing than it normally did. Streaks of discoloration trickled onto his forearm, stopping just after his elbow. He gave you a pointed look.
“That’s yours.”
Your eyes grew wide, flying between his hand and face. You propped yourself up on your elbows and tried to scoot away. Was he serious?
You took another look at him – there was blood on his tunic.
… All over his tunic.
And his other arm.
And his- everywhere.
… How the hell did that happen?
You couldn’t help the split second thought that he may have been the one to stab you. But before your blood-deprived brain could elaborate on such nonsense, the wagon came to a stop, and Cobb’s faraway voice sounded.
“We’re here!”
~~~~
You were certain you’d never been more fussed over.
Your mother sequestered you to your room, and for the next several days you received visits from worried, sometimes downright petrified members of the staff checking your status. Even after reassuring everyone that you were indeed following the doctor’s orders and not leaving your bed, they kept coming. Especially your wagon crew.
Fennec hadn’t left her post. You weren’t certain when the last time she slept was, given you weren’t sure how many days it took to venture back. You doubted she slept a wink until you rolled back into the palace gates. And maybe not even then.
Sitting there in your covers, slightly propped up, you called for her to come inside. She ducked her head in.
“Anything wrong?” she asked.
“Does the fact that you won’t take a nap count?”
Fennec sighed and came the rest of the way in, closing the door behind her before walking to your bedside.
“You know it wasn’t your fault,” you started, “I’m the one who got distracted.”
“I could’ve kept a closer eye on you,” she said with a shrug. “That’s kind of my whole job.”
“Fennec,” you chuckled, grabbing her hand to hold in yours. “Tell me, how many times have I been injured like this?”
“... Before this, none.”
“Exactly. You have an excellent track record! And you can’t blame yourself for this. That guy was in my fight circle, not yours.”
“Didn’t stop me from showing him what-for afterward.”
You grinned.
“See, there we go, it all evens out!”
A small smile tugged at the sides of her lips. She nodded toward the wound.
“How’s it feel?”
“Eh, it’s fine,” you gave an exasperated sigh. “The doctor says I basically can’t do anything for several weeks, maybe longer.”
“Oh, how tragic, you get to lounge and not lift a finger.”
“It is tragic!” you scoffed at her sarcasm. “You know I can’t stay still to save my life.”
“Literally so, yes.”
That got a good laugh, and subsequent wince, out of you.
“Honestly though,” you brought your attention back to Fennec. “Please rest. You can’t care for me without caring for yourself first.”
Fennec’s lip twisted into a pout before she gave a slow and reluctant nod.
“I’m hand-picking my proxy, though.”
“Deal.”
~~~~
Time was lost to Din while he worked.
Shoveling coal, pouring liquid ore, sculpting and hammering, rinsing and repeating. Anything to keep himself occupied.
He couldn’t afford to spare you a thought. If he did, he’d spiral again. He’d berate himself in his mind, hearing his Queen’s voice asking him why, why he let every single perfect opportunity to preserve the glory of Mandalore slip away.
And then the icing on the cake: why he’d done the exact opposite of his directive. Why he saved the life he was sent to eliminate.
No, no. It was all too much. Too painful to face. Mostly in part because he just didn’t know.
Night after night since returning to the palace, he’d toss and turn trying to find an answer, some form of explanation. He had no reason to go in and save you during that raid. Leaving you to die would not have brought a single thread of suspicion his way – he would instead be hailed with the rest of the crew as one of the unfortunate heroes who couldn’t save you. He could re-don his armor and go back home with good news and no questions.
But no.
He played that moment in his mind over and over again, but it never made any sense.
It was as if everything else faded away. Every natural instinct belonged to you; like he was being controlled by something outside of himself, he was beckoned to you. Nothing could’ve stopped him. It was all at once exhilarating and terrifying.
It had been almost two weeks since the incident, but no matter what Din did, you were seared into his thoughts.
Kuiil gave him endless opportunities to go visit you. To take a break and relax, to check on the rest of the crew even. He didn’t take a single one.
There was no telling what he would do if he saw you again. All he could predict was that it would simply make the hole he was falling through darker and deeper.
The worst part was the fact that he liked you. He liked what you gave him: security, dignity, knowledge, opportunity.
He couldn’t stay here. Not if he couldn’t go through with his mission.
He hammered away at what would soon be a sword. With each swing downward he channeled every bit of that confusion, every ounce of wonder and beauty that you had displayed so cruelly yet so intoxicatingly, and tried to expel it all into the metal laying below him.
Ridding himself of your influences had to rid him of this strange addiction. Right?
~~~~
Days and days of inactivity blended together and passed like months.
Though you floated in and out of consciousness during most of them, you’d never felt more bored. You could hardly sit up without needing assistance, which meant most of your time was spent in a singular position on your bed. Cobb would come by and tell you the happenings around the castle, Omera brought you books from the library – including your old favorite – and Sir Fett would make a point of keeping any of your other needs cared for.
Your mother poked her head through the doorway before coming in with him on her heels, a tray in his hands. Your head immediately lifted as you slowly shifted to sit up more.
“What’s all this?” You couldn’t keep down your grin if you tried.
“Now just because you’re bedridden doesn’t mean we’re missing our tea date!”
Your heart swelled with warmth. Wow, you loved your mother.
Sir Fett gently placed the tray down to suspend over your lap before taking his post outside your door.
“How are you feeling, my dear?” your mother asked as she poured both cups of tea.
“About the same,” you said with a smile. “It only really hurts if I move.”
She placed your teacup into your hands before caressing your forehead. You leaned into the contact, and she sighed.
“You gave me quite a fright, you know.”
“Yeah, I was there for that.”
“So you’ll understand when I say no more travel, right?”
You sighed but nodded nonetheless. Seeing that coming didn’t make it any easier to accept. You took a hesitant sip of your tea and decided to hold back any usual argument you’d make.
“How have things been? Have I missed anything major?”
“Oh, everything’s fine,” she stirred her tea with a little delicate spoon before tapping it on the side and setting it down. “The Queen of Naboo offered to send extra protections when she heard what happened to you.”
“How did she hear so fast? It’s only been a week.”
“Oh, honey,” Your mother set her teacup down. “It’s been about a month and a half since your incident.”
Your mind began to lightly spin. A month and a half?
You shook your head in an attempt to alleviate your disorientation. Suddenly the heaviness in your bones made more sense.
“The doctor did say your oversleeping may disrupt your sense of time. But all well and good, your body needs this time to rest and repair.”
Apparently so. You took a deep breath and brought your cup towards you for another sip.
“But anyway, our allies often ask for progress reports about you. They want you safe as much as everyone here.”
That had your mind racing in other directions. When was the last time you had even spoken to anyone from the Naboo royal family? You couldn’t recall. The last thing you remembered hearing was Leia’s promotion to head of the Senate. You nibbled at a biscuit and mentally planned to send something their way when you had a chance.
“So,” your mother placed her cup down on its saucer. “As I’m sure you recall, you are still forbidden to leave this bed until the doctor deems you well enough. Which means that while you regain your strength, myself or a council member will be bringing you highlights from each council meeting.”
You nodded along and sipped more of your tea.
“And I’ve put an indefinite pause on your training.”
You spat out your tea.
“What do you mean ‘indefinite?’”
“Dear, please!”
You ignored her distaste for the tea droplets that now dribbled down your chin, along with the way she dabbed at them with a handkerchief as if she were cleaning up after an infant.
“Ma, you can’t do that, it’s all I’ll have when this is over!”
“Now what does that mean?”
“It means, if I can’t go anywhere, I will have no other stimulating physical activities to partake in. I will not just sit and wait around for the next council meeting, you know.”
She sighed.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s done.”
Your head flopped back until it hit your pillow, a million thoughts swirling through your head. That wasn’t something you’d considered. You figured you’d be in the clear as long as you stayed on castle grounds. She knew people like Mr. Vaun didn’t just fall out of the sky.
… Mr. Vaun.
You hadn’t seen him since getting back to the palace. On one of her visits Omera had told you what he did during the raid, what lengths he went to to save you. How he’d dove in head first, the panic and urgency so evident on his face. And you’d spent all that time believing it was Fennec or Omera that got you out of there. Hell, you even considered him to be the culprit in your dazed state. You couldn’t believe how far off you’d been.
You hadn’t even had a chance to thank him yet.
An argument sprouted in your mind. You sat back up and looked towards your mother.
“... You do know my spear instructor is the only reason I’m alive, right?”
“I do.”
“Not only did he save me, but his battle skills took out so many of those bandits. Maybe half, all by himself. So many more chances they could’ve had at me if he weren’t there.”
“Where are you going with this, honey?”
“If I don’t keep learning, I won’t be able to do that for myself. Isn’t it only right that I use every tool at my disposal against an assailant?”
Flashes of what you saw suddenly crowded your mind. The blood, the corpses, the unaffected look on his face. His words in the carriage didn’t stand a chance against those visuals.
Were those skills you even wanted? They were horrifying, but considering what happened to you… maybe they were skills you need?
… Unless that was just going too far, down a slippery slope of violence that you may never be able to recover from. You gulped and tried to push the doubts away.
“I’m not one to deny the importance of learning new skills, not at all. But I do think at least a little time away from any sort of combat is necessary. Not forever, but just for now. Okay?”
Not okay. Not at all. Once on your feet, you wouldn’t last a week without those lessons. The others, sure, that wouldn’t be so bad. But already you were too eager to get back into that sweatroom to train with Mr. Vaun. To really try and pick him apart, figure out what it was about him that was so mysterious and scary.
But in lieu of a response you merely sat back and let your body go slack against your pillows.
~~~~
Fennec sat beside Omera in the mess hall and sighed.
“How is she today?” Omera asked.
“She was finally up for a whole day. Says it’s getting better. I should be grateful she’s bitching so much about being bored,” Fennec chuckled. “That’s the real sign.”
Omera smiled and placed a hand on Fennec’s shoulder. A beat passed before they both returned their attention to their food, light chatter from others cushioning their own silence.
Omera recalled the last conversation she had with your doctor. Another week or so and you’d be ready to start trying to walk again. She recalled the scene right after the incident: you lying motionless in the cabin, the interior covered in your blood. Your lips had been blue and dry, like something had sucked the life out of you. She swallowed the lump in her throat and gulped her water.
“Omera,” Fennec whispered.
Her concerned tone broke Omera’s trance.
“... Are you okay? You’re crying.”
Omera scrunched her brow, bringing up a hand to her face. Fennec was right.
“I know it was scary,” Fennec began, gently grabbing Omera’s raised hand with her own. “None of us have ever seen her like that. We thought she was going to die.”
Omera shut her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. Fennec squeezed her hand.
“But she didn’t,” Omera started with a nod. Fennec’s warmth was like a gentle weight, bringing her back down to the present. She gave her a smile.
“That’s right,” Fennec said with a grin.
Fennec’s grip slowly loosened, her hand still aloft. A tinge of conflict, of insecurity, was in her gaze. Something Omera had never known her for.
“I’m… I’m grateful you were there.”
Fennec’s words were firm despite the waver in her voice.
“Not just for her. But for me.”
Omera smiled.
“Fennec, I jus-”
Fennec’s hand caressed Omera’s cheek, wiping away the stray tears that laid there. The rest of Omera’s words were long gone, her heartbeat quickening.
Fennec’s eyes bore into hers. That fiery intensity was enough to burn Omera right there, but damn it if she wasn’t willing to run right into it.
Fennec brought her hand around to the back of Omera’s head, bringing her slightly closer-
“Hey, there he is!”
Their attention was drawn to the familiar voice. It was Cobb, chasing down Mr. Vaun, who was walking outside at a quickened pace.
Fennec and Omera looked at each other. A shyness overcame Omera and she backed away just as Fennec pulled her hand back.
“... We should see what that’s about.”
Fennec abandoned her food and took off after the men. Omera allowed herself a moment to breathe, pressing a hand to her chest in hopes of steadying her racing pulse, before following suit.
“She’s been asking for you ever since she woke up, now why haven’t you seen her?”
Cobb had caught up to Mr. Vaun, a hand on his shoulder to deter his escape.
“There’s… been a lot to prepare,” he started, refusing to look Cobb in the eye. “Her Majesty has increased security and patrols. That means more weapons.”
“Oh, come on now,” Cobb sighed. “You can’t refuse Her Highness, especially not after saving her life.”
Fennec and Omera jogged up to them.
“Been wondering where you’ve been, Vaun,” Fennec said.
“I’m trying to convince him to go see the Princess,” Cobb said with a pointed look. “She won’t stop asking for him.”
“Can’t blame her, can you?” Omera said, walking around to face Mr. Vaun.
She looked at his face: dark circles around his eyes, weighted and slumped shoulders, like something was haunting him. She took a breath and smiled at him.
“The community’s grateful, but none more so than her.”
Mr. Vaun’s dark, casted gaze did not sway her. He crinkled his brow. Omera tilted her head.
Fennec and Cobb looked at one another with confusion.
“... I feel like they’re speakin’ a silent language,” he whispered.
Fennec mumbled in agreement.
A beat passed before Omera smiled at Mr. Vaun.
“It’ll be great,” she nodded. “And it would mean so much to her.”
His eyes dropped down.
“... and to you, too, I think.”
A gulp slowly made its way down his throat, a sigh escaping him before his eyes found hers again.
Something about them was the slightest bit softer, like she’d unveiled something precious, unknown to a casual observer.
“What do you have to lose?”
His face tensed once more, as if he were in pain.
“You’d be surprised.”
There seemed to be something else to his words. Something Omera wasn’t sure how to interpret. But it also seemed… weak.
“But… it kind of seems like you want to, don’t you?”
He was silent again. What must’ve sounded like nonsense to Fennec and Cobb was the only thing Omera could think to say. Something in Mr. Vaun’s resolve was off, and she was determined to prove it. What he was fighting, she hadn’t a clue. But if the Princess wanted to see him, she’d make sure that happened.
“Fine. I’ll see her.”
A wide grin spread onto Omera’s face. Mr. Vaun lightly shook his head and let Cobb walk him away by the shoulder.
Fennec and Omera fell into step beside each other.
“How did you do that?” Fennec asked, “it’s like you reached inside and pulled out his soul.”
Omera laughed.
“I don’t know about that.”
She could feel Fennec’s gaze on her. But she didn’t dare look to see the pure admiration in those eyes.
~~~~
It was late when you awoke from your nap. The sun had set beyond your window, a slight breeze brushing your sheer curtains back and forth. You stretched your arms as much as your torso would allow before gently sitting up and taking a sip of water.
With each day that passed the pain grew more dull, though it was still very much present. It shouldn’t be too much longer before you’re back on your feet full time, the doctor had said.
Didn’t help in decreasing your boredom. Hardly anything did anymore. How could it after so long?
You sighed and looked at the scenery poking through the curtains. Bright stars were scattered throughout the black sky, like specks of paint on a dark canvas. Shadows of colorful space dust decorated the top of your window.
It took you back to your childhood: sneaking out of the castle to look at the stars, hiding by climbing up a tree and poking your head up to take in the cosmic wonders above you. You’d shiver, sometimes waking up with colds the next morning, until the night Sir Fett caught you.
You were still a little girl, sneaking back in through the back garden to the passageway you could’ve sworn was your secret alone. He was waiting at its entrance with a feigned seriousness, only to chuckle and wrap you in his cloak.
He helped you get back up to your room without being seen, trying to cover your ears as you passed your parents’ room so you wouldn’t hear your father yelling.
You sighed. While being a child came with the reward of innocence, it wasn’t without its complications. Its own difficulties. They were different than they are now, but they were not absent.
A knock at your door brought you back to the moment. Fennec poked her head in.
“Princess, you have a visitor.”
Fennec’s grin was somewhat devious, but before you could ask her why, she pulled the door farther open for Mr. Vaun to step inside.
It was like whiplash, seeing him again. He was reserved, eyes cast to the floor and stature drawn in. You couldn’t tell if he was just nervous or if he really didn’t want to be there.
Regardless, you couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your cheeks.
I'm so into their pining for each other, and they haven't even realised it yet these feelings 😭😭😭
I cannot not LOVE this kind of angst: he, sent to kill her, and then he falls for her, they teach each other things, love blooms, and when the true comes out? Will she forgive him? Will she not?? I. LIVE. FOR. IT!!!
I don't know if you'll ever will update this one or not - but know that, as I have with Latch, I fell in love with this story, you’re really talented with words, how what you write delights me in a way that I can't explain.
Thank you so much for creating something like this, now I'll sit in the corner to cry about then 🥲
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
rating: Explicit (18+ only!)
warnings: ball fucking, ball sucking, balls, wall to wall all ball, BIV (ball in vagina), sex toys (the balldo [link to website] is real and it has haunted my dreams for 6 months - pic in this ask), there's some PIV too I guess.
word count: too many and they're all balls 4.4k
summary: Santa Joel fucks you with his balls. That's it.
A/N: I am NOT sorry. Not now, not ever. And, yes, I watched the instructional video on how to put it on, purely for Research Purposes. We don't talk about how long I've spent thinking about balls.
Happy Ball-idays, don't say I never got you anythin' nice.
...
Santa Joel-y, slip your ballsack right into me, oh gee.
I've been a fuckin' good girl,
Santa Joel-y, so stuff 'em up my chimney tonight.
...
It was your first Christmas in Texas and your first Christmas in a place that felt unseasonably warm for the time of year. That's what you tell yourself every night as you strip off completely before slinking into bed, at least.
Except, this night is different.
It's Christmas Eve.
And someone is in your house. You're sure of it.
A click of a button and you're on your feet, creeping to your bedroom door to listen out for the intruder. You almost didn't hear it, too preoccupied to be on the lookout for burglars on Christmas Eve.
There's a tell tale rustle, the stomp of feet. Whoever it is, they're not even trying to be quiet. You'd respect the brazenness of it all if someone hadn't broken into your damn house. You toy with calling the cops, maybe a neighbor, but you know it'll be too late by the time anyone gets here to do anything, so you make the stupid decision to head downstairs and confront the intruder alone.
Wrapping your flimsy bath robe around yourself, you grab the nearest makeshift weapon you can find (a broken umbrella you still hadn't thrown away) and click the door open, slinking out into the hallway and down the stairs.
If he hears you before you get down the stairs, he doesn't let on. But there, right in front of your Christmas tree is the unmistakable figure of a man. A big man. He's tall, and broad, and his silhouette is wrapped in something fluffy, making it look like there's a giant teddy bear standing in your living room.
You flick the light on, startling him, making him drop a heavy bag undoubtedly filled with your things onto the floor with a heavy thud.
"Oh, shit."
A single ornament rolls out of the bag and across the floor. You both stand frozen and silent, watching it move until it knocks against your bare toes. Only when it's stopped do you drag your eyes back up to look at the man who broke into your house.
Your umbrella clatters to the floor.
"What the...?"
The man before you is dressed as Santa, hat and all.
Only this man was not as old as you would expect for someone claiming to be Santa Claus. His beard is patchy, the scruff around his chin only speckled with gray. He has lines around his eyes, crinkled divots in his skin from so many years of laughter. The red coat pulled around his form is unbelted, falling open at the middle to reveal a white vest and the soft swell of his belly.
"What the fuck are you doin' in my house?" you yell.
"Shh, quit your fuckin' hollerin'."
He takes a step toward you and you back into the wall, trying to keep your distance from the very Texan man who had broken into your house dressed as Santa on Christmas Eve.
And that's when you see behind him, to the glittering lights of your Christmas tree, and the branches covered in ornaments. Ornaments that did not belong to you. You'd bought the thing on sale at the grocery store just a week ago. When you put it up and plugged it in, grateful for the existence of pre-lit trees, you settled on the fact you wouldn't decorate it this year. Even so, it was beautiful as it was, and you enjoyed the soft glow of the lights in the evenings as you wound down after work. Now, that soft glow was accompanied by the twinkling reflections of the many ornaments hanging on it.
"Did you... did you decorate my tree?"
He looks at you like you're mad, and maybe you are. Maybe you came so hard on your vibrator upstairs that you passed out, and this is all a dream. A very vivid dream where you can smell the warm oaky scent of the man in front of you and feel the heat of him as he crowds you against the wall.
"What else do you think I've been doin'?" he says, as if it should be entirely obvious that he's been here decorating your tree all along.
"I don't know, maybe stealing my shit?"
He, once again, looks at you like you're stupid and gestures to his suit, red and velvety, draped around his body. It looks good on him, and does nothing to help the thick syrupy feeling still coursing through your veins. Having a man like him break into your house felt like one of lifes great injustices, but having him break in when you were mid-jerk off was purely inhumane. Other than point to the door and tell him to get out, there was nothing you could do but gape at him and hope he didn't notice you curl your toes as he looked at you.
He takes a step closer, heavy boot falling with a thud in front of you, and shrugs. "If you don't want it, I'll take it back."
Up this close, the smell of him goes straight to your head, your body seemingly ready and rearing to go at the slightest hint of something masculine in your presence. Your tongue suddenly feels too big and clumsy so, not trusting a single word that would come out of your mouth, you shake your head. You would actually, really, very much like the decorations to stay and the man who put them there.
Texas always felt hot to you, but something about this room was now super heating. You're keenly aware of the stickiness pooling between your thighs, and even more aware of the visible sheen of sweat on your head and the warmth in your cheeks. If he looked closely, he'd even be able to see glistening on your fingers, making you look glitter coated in the twinkle of the Christmas lights. You shift, trying to mask the buzzing in your veins at his eyes as they drag down your body.
You hadn't noticed the silky tie of your robe slowly loosen as you wiggled and fidgeted. You were too warm to notice when the fabric parted, gaping over your chest and giving him a perfect view of your tits. You were too busy staring into his deep brown eyes to notice him raise his hand.
You did, however, feel the moment his finger stroked a slow trail down the swell of your breast, puckering your nipple and making a shudder run through your spine.
"You're all unwrapped, darlin'," he whispers, just as you remember to breathe again. "S'gettin' a bit warm in here, huh?"
He absentmindedly discards his hat as his finger traces down your body, flicking the light back off behind you once his hat hits the floor. You know where he, and this, is heading, and you're not keen to stop it any time soon.
When his fingers stroke across your mound, you gasp. Your vibrator had made you sensitive, but you'd never had chance to finish the job, and now here he was threatening you with a good time. He cups you, completely engulfing your pussy in his broad hand, and slides it between your legs.
By now it's no secret you're already wet, your upper thighs already sticky with it. His fingers slide through with ease, the quirk of his eyebrow visible now his hat has been thrown to the side.
"Here I was thinkin' you were on the nice list. But this little thing right here tells me you're naughty as they come, darlin'. What you been doin' to yourself all alone up there in the dark?"
You're staring at him opened mouthed as he works is thick fingers over you, dragging slick over your already sensitive clit. You'd been moments away from coming when the noise from downstairs pulled you out of it, and now here he was working you back up and quickly.
"It's my house," you stutter. "Can do what I want." And right now you want to collapse into a heap on the floor with his fingers between your legs.
"That you can. You wanna go back up there and finish yourself off?"
Logically, you know your pre-orgasm desperation is clouding your judgement, that you should take him up on his offer to leave and put a stop to this, but there's something too enticing about him. You don't want to stop.
"Or do you maybe want a hand with your... Little problem?"
"Yeah," you're nodding, eyes so heavy now you want them to snap shut, but you can't resist looking at him in the glow of your Christmas lights. Red really suits him, and you swear you can see his cheeks get rosy in the dim lighting.
"S'good. Got some little problems here myself. But, seein' as you're already halfway there, seems only fair to get me to your level before we start anythin', don't you think?"
Biting your lip, you nod, taking a step closer to him. Tentatively, you reach out a hand and caress the front of his pants. They feel velvety soft, and you have no fucking clue how he doesn't look as sweaty as you feel.
"That's right. You feel that?"
You feel something grow beneath your palm. Big, thick, and heavy. You look down in stunned silence, seeing only the odd shadows cast by the Christmas tree lights sparkling over the front of his pants.
"Get on your knees and close your eyes."
You obey, wanting very much to stay on the nice list now that you know exactly what you want for Christmas. His belt jingles as he undoes the buckle, pulling it from his waist and discarding it on top of his bag. He can't resist giving his dick a quick squeeze over the fabric of his pants at the sight of your bare chest heaving in the twinkling light, before unzipping them and letting them fall down to his ankles. The fabric is so loose he can step out of them, easily tugging his booted feet from the legs.
It doesn't go unnoticed that you spend the entire time eyes closed, listening attentively, and gently rocking your hips, discreetly humping the air in a desperate attempt to find any kind of relief.
"Tsk, got an impatient one on our hands."
The same hand he'd been stroking your pussy with wraps around his cock, slowly dragging his sticky fingers up and down his rapidly hardening length. He wishes he'd told you to strip, or left the light on so he could see you more clearly, but something about your skin under the sparkling lights and the shadows cast between your legs is making him harder more quickly than ever. When his dick twitches in his hand at your deep sigh, he finally stops staring and speaks.
"Open your eyes."
You snap them open, eager to see what he has for you, and your eyes immediately turn the size of dinner plates.
His cock gorgeous, and even in the grip of his large hand it looks big. He's long, thick with a slight upward curve and a smattering of salt and pepper hair at the base. You're fairly certain he trims it, keeping it well groomed and flush to his skin, making his cock appear even larger as it juts out infront of him.
But, despite the gloriousness of this mans cock, what you can't get over are his balls. They're heavy, and full, and getting tighter and tighter as his cock hardens under your gaze. You flick your eyes up to his face and he has a knowing smirk pulling at his lips.
"Fuck," you say as you look back down at it, at them, and let out a shaky breath.
His whole body shakes with a laugh, jingling his bells, as you take in his length. Hand never leaving his cock, his gentle strokes become firmer, and he's guiding the tip toward your face a moment later.
"What should I call you?" you ask, realizing you don't even know his name yet, just as his tip touches to your lips. Exhilarating as it was to fuck a man who had broke into your house, you still wanted to know his name, and not even to press charges - you wanted to know what to scream when you came.
"Santa works just fine."
Pulling back, you scoff, "You want me to call you Santa Claus?"
"Fuck no! Do I look like a Claus to you? S'Joel."
"Santa Joel?"
"Fuck yeah darlin', now open up."
You stick out your tongue, waiting for his cock to slide along the spit slicked muscle. He drags his tip across it, letting you lick at his head before you capture his cock in your mouth, sucking it in and flicking your tongue lightly on his frenulum. The salty sweet taste of him makes you crave more, so you draw him further into your mouth, sliding up and down his cock as he stares down at you with an open mouth.
Dragging your hands up his bare thighs, you grab the base of his cock with one, steadying him as you suck. You tickle the other across his balls, looking up at him as he pulls in a sharp breath, before grabbing them and massaging them. His balls feel entirely smooth to the touch, and you have an irresistible urge to put them in your mouth.
Dragging your lips back from his cock, you lick broadly up the length of it again and again until you're dragging your tongue across his ballsack, slowly trailing up his cock to his tip, watching him all the while. Then you kiss his balls, humming in satisfaction as you finally press your lips to the soft skin.
The sight of you on your knees, making out with his balls is sending him stupid, and all he can do is stare down at you with a look of deep concentration on his face. If he's not careful, he's going to blow his load early, coming in your hand before he even gets to fuck you.
He watches you lightly drag your teeth over his delicate ball skin. He swears he sees your eyes flicker with something deserving of the naughty list when you hear his intake of breath, but he's too preoccupied by your tongue lathing across them to take much notice. You take it in turns with them, sucking each ball into your mouth as you slowly pump his cock in your fist, before releasing and working on the other. By the time you've had enough, his cock is dripping, smearing pre-cum over your hand as you jerk him.
Licking the drippy mess off of your hand, you look up at him, savouring the taste of his cum in your mouth.
"Please tell me you want to fuck me," you say, biting down on your swollen lips. You don't know what you'll do if he says no now, you know going back upstairs to your vibrator just won't cut it, even if you now have the fantasy of kissing Santa's balls to get off to.
"You kiddin' me, darlin'? Get up here."
Relief and desperation wash through you, and you climb off your aching knees, letting your robe fall from your arms.
"Couch?" you say, keeping a firm grip on his cock as you stroke up his chest. He pulls you toward him, holding the back of your neck as he kisses you, tasting his cum and balls on your tongue. His lips are impossibly soft, just like his balls, a stark contrast to the scratch of his beard.
Moving to the couch, you bend over, wiggling your bare ass for him. He chuckles, stepping closer to you and marvelling at the lights dancing over your jiggling backside. He shucks off his own coat now, leaving him in just his vest and boots, and hones in on the peek of your pussy from between your legs.
Sliding his length up and down your slit he groans, gripping your hip in his massive hand just as he notches at your entrance.
"Well, shit, that's nice," he says, sliding his tip into you.
You're inclined to agree - it had been a long time since anyone other than yourself had fucked you, and the red hot feeling of his hard cock in you felt better than you remembered. He rocks his hips a little, drenching his cock in you bit by bit until he's fully sheathed inside your eager pussy. The solid beat of your heart throbs through your veins and straight to your core, making you clench around him as he begins to fuck you.
"You're gonna yank my dick clean off if you keep that up."
"Can't help it," you moan, "Feels so good." You let your eyes close, succumbing to the slow, steady, pleasure building in you.
Snapping his hips more firmly, he bottoms out in you over and over, pushing deep inside you with each thrust. You can feel his wet balls slap against you, rhythmically whacking into your clit, but it's not enough. You're so desperate to come you lick your fingers and reach between your legs, swiping your digits over your clit. His balls instead slap against your fingers and you can't resist trying to stroke them again.
The noises you're making are going straight to Joel's dick, and he knows he's going to blow his snowy load way before he's ready if you don't stop, so he pulls away from you. You protest as his cock slides out of you, leaving you empty and still desperate to come.
"Got a present for you," he pants from behind you.
"The ornaments?"
"Yeah. Got some real pretty baubles for you, darlin'. You'll like 'em. I promise."
He goes to his bag, long forgotten on the floor, and bends over it. You watch his soft ass and the swing of his dick and balls as he rummages around inside the sack, pulling out two things before standing up. When he doesn't immediately turn back around, clearly playing with his own cock, you start to worry that you're not satisfying him. But then he rounds on you and you see his cock and balls glisten wetly in the twinkling Christmas lights just as he throws a bottle at you. Lube.
Catching him opening another box, you gasp and draw your hand to your chest in mock shock.
"Is that not my present to open?" you say coyly, now trickling lube over your own pussy. You don't need it, but whatever he has in mind clearly calls for it.
"Good things come to those who wait."
"I'm still waiting for the coming part."
He shoots you a admonishing look and you raise your hands in surrender, before snaking one back down to keep rubbing at your clit. You're about to go mad if you don't come soon, your clit is so sensitive, a firm nub between your legs now, and your pussy so puffy from so much stimulation. It's a wonder you have any blood left in your brain at all.
The object in the box is revealed, and you can do nothing but gape at it as Santa Joel proudly holds it up with a hand on his hip.
It looks like a torpedo cockring hybrid, and you have no fucking clue what it is.
"Get yourself comfy, gotta strap myself in."
Laying back on your couch - for all its flaws, an armless couch certainly had its benefits - you spread your legs and watch him with curiousity. You still can't work out what it is.
"What is -"
And then he stretches the silicone underneath his balls, pushing each ball into the cage with his thumbs before letting go. Oh.
Oh. "Oh."
You sit in stunned silence. He's turned his balls into a dick or, more accurately, a dildo. With the length of it and the girth of his balls, you can only imagine what it's going to feel like.
"If you don't fuck me with that in the next two seconds I'm gonna scream."
With the contraption strapped around his balls, pulling them down and taught, crouches over you, pushing your legs back so your pussy is pointing skyward like a sloppy wet landing pad for his balls.
He dunks the tip of the dildo into your pussy. It's cold and unfamiliar, not like the velvety warmth of his dick that stands straight ahead of you, taunting you with its glistening tip. If you could fold yourself in a pretzel you would, just to suck the head of his cock back into your mouth.
He pushes down, squatting over you with bare legs, sheathing the entire dildo into you. Another push and you feel the swell of his balls as they pop past your entrance and nestle themselves inside of you.
You gasp. The feeling is wholly unfamiliar, but still you feel yourself soaking him, slicking up his balls as they sit in your pussy.
"That hurtin'?"
"No. No, it's just I- I've never had someone's balls in me before."
"A first ball fuckin' for this little pussy," he says affectionately, stroking a thumb over your lips as they wrap themselves around his balls. His cock is protruding out of you now, like you're wearing a life like strap, and you really wish you could reach to taste where his tip threatens to drip onto you. Suddenly you understand the boys back in highschool and their failed attempts to suck their own dicks.
"They feel so big inside," you moan as he begins to gently shift above you. He pops out of you once, and pushes back in, and you throw your head back onto the soft sofa woth a moan. You have never felt anything like this. "Joel, please don't stop. Please keep fucking me with your balls."
"You got it darlin'," his voice is soft, in awe of you as you take his balls and the toy deep inside you. You feel incredible, and the wet slip of your walls on his ball skin shoots straight down his dick, and for a moment he thinks he's accidentally came too early. A quick look from your face, contorting with the fullness in your pussy, down to where his dick sticks outward, tells him otherwise. Thank fuck. He knows he has to get you off quickly. You were soaking his dick not too long ago, and before that his fingers, and before that your own sheets upstairs. You were ready, and he was nothing if not a giving man.
His thumb finds your clit, slippery from lube and your own slick, and he circles it, applying a firm pressure as he moves.
"Oh my god, that's it," you plead, opening your eyes to look at where he plays with you, balls still sunk deep.
You spur him on, rocking your hips as much as you can with your legs back, fucking yourself on his balls as he strokes your clit. You feel your pussy tense, little spasms warning you of what's to come, and you hold on tight to your own legs.
"That's it darlin'. Come on my balls. Squeeze 'em."
"F-fuuuck."
The swipe of his thumb sends you over, and you come hard on his balls with your head back and eyes squeezed shut. Your legs shake and you know he can feel how you twitch and spasm around his balls, drenching them as he dunks them in you, shallowly thrusting them as you tighten and grip him hard.
He's holding your legs back for you, looking you in the eye as he bends forward over your limp body when you open your eyes. The feral look on his face tells you he hasn't come yet, and you're desperate to see when he does.
"You been so nice I'm gonna give you an extra present. You ready?"
"Please Santa Joel, I've been so good this year," you say with a soft smirk.
He soon wipes the smirk off your face when he fucks down into you harder, practically bouncing off your ass as he slots his swollen balls into your pussy. They feel so big and heavy inside you, and even strapped down and pulled tight by the toy, you feel his balls tighten and try to draw up closer to his cock as he gets closer to coming.
"Come on me. Please. Come on me," you beg, staring between his cock and his face. Pre-cum had been steadily dripping onto you, splattering your belly, but you were hungry for more.
His fingers grip around his flushed head, stroking easily over the slicked surface. Pushing his balls deep, he bounces gently, loving the feel of his sensitive ball skin inside of your soaked hole.
"Here it comes, darlin'. Oh shit."
"Yeah, come on me. Come all over me Joel."
"Shit. Fuck."
You watch his slit as it seems to wink at you before ropes of come spurt out of the tip, shooting across your chest and neck, spattering your face and even your hair with his cum.
"Yes, yes, thank you," your eyes have snapped shut. You can feel the warm trickle of cum by your eyebrow, and you're not keen to feel the sting of semen in your eye.
For a little while he looks at you, fucked out by his balls and laying boneless on your couch. With a soft pop he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty without his balls in you. Your legs flop down and you listen to his deep breaths.
"Nothin' like a ballgasm," he pants.
Nothing like being ballfucked, you think, but the words are heavy in your mouth and you do nothing but moan, mumbling some nonsense.
"Mm... balls. They... mm. Yeah. Good."
"Too fucked out, huh?" he laughs, before swiping the cum from near your eye. "Make a Christmas wish," and he slips the finger into your waiting mouth.
He slides his finger from your mouth and you murmur a thank you as you make your wish, sighing and letting yourself relax completely for a moment.
When you tentatively open your eyes, wary of any errant drops of cum, he's gone, disappeared as soon as he'd arrived. You didn't hear the door, the window, anything. You certainly didn't hear him get dressed.
Feeling stupid, and like maybe it was all just a dream, you rush to the window. You don't expect to see anything, the man feeling too magical to have been real. But, there he is, walking down the street bare assed, his pants slung over his shoulder and his balls still swinging strapped into the toy.
No, you don't think you'll be forgetting your first Christmas in Texas any time soon at all.
next part
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