mochamadeleines

[mochamadeleines]

[mochamadeleines]

At Night

rating: 18+

characters: Din Djarin x F!Reader

summary: After months of silent torture Din Djarin hears the sound of his onboard mechanic pleasuring herself and whimpering his name. He decides he has to do something about it.

a/n: For my sweet @almostempty because she knows why. Now, don't y'all come for me saying "That's not what happens in star wars" because I've barely seen it. This is just some smut for my slut2slut sister.

At Night

It happens every week at the same time. 

Din is always laying in his bed, his helmet off and one arm behind his head. His armor always rests on the end of the bed in an organized pile.  

And then there you are, whimpering directly on the other side of the metal wall. 

"Please," you coo, breathy morphing into a shuddered moan. "Please let me touch you." 

You're alone in there, your own bedroom next to his on the ship. Both are modest, and on across the other side in his small cubby is the kid, likely snoring away. 

If Din concentrates he can hear the wet noise of your fingers in your cunt. He can imagine it too, the way your fingers would look splayed around your clit, the way they'd tease your nipples. 

But he can't do that. He forces his mind to turn to work. Of the upcoming bounty he's been hired to collect. 

You're his employee, experienced with ship mechanics and desperate to travel around the galaxy. Suggested to Din by Karga during a routine visit. 

"Let her work on it this week," Karga had insisted with a clap to Mando's back. "If you're not happy with her work, you don't have to pay her." 

Grogu was besotted with you from day one, watching you with the wires most days, tilting his head and cooing. And you never lost your temper, even when he tried to help with the wires and ended up knocking out the navigation for half a leg. You just laughed, patted his head and told him to go "see your Daddy." 

And at the end of the week you came to him, wiping your hands on a towel and giving him a proud smile.

"She's a beautiful pre-empire ship and now she'll travel to the Outer Rim smooth as lightning.” 

Din had been impressed, taking his time surveying your work, walking around the ship. There were other things that needed to be repaired, things that would take months.  

"I see there's quite a bit more work to be done," you'd observed as if reading his mind. "I don't know how you feel about this, but I've never really traveled off Nevarro. I'd love the chance to travel a bit of the galaxy."

Din just stood there, peering out at you from his helmet. He couldn't understand what you were driving at. 

"Sooooo, I was thinking maybe I could tag along with you for a bit? You wouldn't have to pay me, I have credits saved. Just lodging and food is needed and then," at this point you sighed dreamily, "I'll get a chance to see some of the galaxy." 

It was too much like charity for Din and he was about to tell you so when a sleepy Grogu woke in the crook of his arm and reached for you. You jumped at the opportunity, shooting a charming smile Din"s way. 

"Plus I'll help take care of your kid." 

///

Of course he'd agreed to this, passively amused at how easily you slid into this life with them and now it's been three months of travel, bounties and brief conversation. And it's been two months of this twice-a-week routine you've set for yourself. 

"Just this time," you pant, the bed creaking as you touch yourself. "I'll make you feel so good, I promise." 

Din feels his cock twitching and he frowns. You're not always this vocal, usually just muffled groans and creaking metal. The first time he heard it he assumed you were having a nightmare. He heard the groans and movement and he assumed that you were half asleep. He was nearly out of his own bed to check when he heard the whimper, a sound that crawled down his spine and immediately had him hard. 

It was then that he realized what you were doing. And even though he knew it was wrong he continued to listen night after night. He never touches himself when he hears you, thinking that would be a true overstep. You didn't know he was listening and he was too embarrassed to bring it up.

It makes him short with you, snapping at you or just ignoring you in favor of focusing on other things. If he looks at you too long he can hear memories of your whimpers and moans. The ones that remind him that you’re not just a talented mechanic, you’re an incredibly desirable woman.

You're getting close, you’re panting quicker, the wet sounds increasing. He starts when your hand must slap against the wall of your bedroom for stability and it echoes into his room. You’re so close he’s sure he could touch that wall and feel the heat from your palm.

"Yes! Fuck just like that! Please come inside me!"  

Din bites the inside of his cheek and prays for morning. 

///

You collapse back onto your pillow, cheeks flushed and hair sticking to your temples. You can’t believe how hard you came just now, your hand sliding down from the metal ship wall. You’re panting, your cunt fluttering at the memory.

Din.

It’s always Din in your mind. Din fucking into you, Din whispering filthy things in your ears, Din commanding you come for him.

But it wasn’t always like this. 

When you first started the two of you were cordial. You worked hard, were kind to the kid and didn’t bother Din much. As the time went on things seemed to twist and the normally quiet Mandalorian was suddenly withdrawn and snappish. You couldn’t understand it, but it didn’t bother you much. You'd faced worse verbal onslaughts.

And it would have continued on in this tense partnership if only you hadn’t seen him bring in a live bounty for the first time about two months ago. Normally they're dead or unconscious, but this humanoid was very awake and very angry being dragged in by the muscular Mandalorian. 

"What are you looking at?" The Anzat hissed at you, his nostrils flared as they passed by to the carbonite chamber. “Filthy kronging scum.”

Neither of you had been expecting Din to slam the man into the nearby wall. The sound echoed into the hull of the ship. You heard the crunch of bone and the sharp hiss from the man. You were thankful Grogu was in the cockpit, away from the brutal scene.

"Talk to her again and I'll make sure you don't take another breath."

His sinister sotto voce rasp through the modulator made your blood pump and that evening you brought yourself off twice in quick succession, whimpering in your bed at the memory. Din’s arms, Din’s voice, the commanding way he moved, the scissoring of his long legs as he walked. Din Din Din.

You were paranoid that maybe the Mandalorian heard you that evening but he acted no differently the next morning and it had thrilled you to have this sexy little secret to yourself about a man so formidable.

So why not continue? What started as a sporadic way to blow off energy was now something you looked forward to. You limited yourself to twice a week though. Just to keep yourself sharp. You spent your free time wondering what he looked like under the armor. You saw a flash of wrist once, the color of deep sand and it thrilled you. Is he all gold under there? Is his mouth plush? His eyes sharp?

Tonight however it was too much to hold back. Seeing Din with his blaster raised as he threatened a man who attempted to steal from a poor woman at the market was too sexy for you to ignore. 

Your fingers were in your pants in a hurry that evening, you body arching off the bed in desperation within seconds, desperate to chase the sensation of Din’s phantom fingers and his deep voice.

You think about bringing yourself off again, but fatigue slowly sets in and you fall asleep with a smile on your face, hoping that morning approaches slowly.  

///

The next morning you wake up and shower ready to face the day. You’re landed in a lush and upscale planet with large buildings and rich looking humanoids. You spend your morning and early afternoon doing a check of materials and ship scans, frustrated to note that the antenna on the hanger is loose. Upon closer inspection to the anterior you can also see some of the scanners are cracked.

It must be from yesterday’s flight. Space debris must have chipped away at the patch job Mando insisted on. You sigh and travel into town with the credits Din saves for such expenses. You return empty-handed several hours later. You travel to the cockpit and smile at the sight of Grogu seated on Mando's knee babbling before frowning.  

"The long wave antenna is loose," you inform his back. "Plus the exterior sensors at the back. We shouldn’t have rushed the job.”

Din is turned from you, not willing to make a turn of his head. If he does he’s going to see you in that tight mechanics outfit where you’re not trying to look sexy, but you do when you’re all sweaty. He places Grogu on the jump seat next to him.

“So go into town and get the supplies. Last time I checked that was your job.”

“For your information, I already did,” you snap. “The antenna was in but it was the wrong size. The sensors will take a day to arrive and so will a new antenna.”

You’re coming closer to him, the sound of your boots scraping the metal floor. Din feels his stomach tighten and he wills you to go away. He busies himself with the buttons on the panel, silently praying you’ll stop coming closer.

“So we’ll travel without them.”

“Are you insane?” you’re irritated that he doesn’t even have the decency to turn around and face you. “We’ll be in a freefall within seconds. You’re a good pilot, Mando, but last time I checked you weren’t force-powerful enough to glide through the air without a working nav transmitter.”

“Fine,” Din sighs. “We’ll stay on the ship overnight-“

“The guy at the shop says ship stays are illegal here because of criminal activity,” you cut him off.

"What do you suggest?" Din offers dryly. 

"I think we should get a place in town for the night." 

Din swears under his breath and soon the three of you are in the foyer of a nearby hotel with Din handing over credits for two adjoining rooms.  Grogu babbles in the satchel at his hip, gazing around with large black eyes, fascinated by the upscale patrons who wrinkle their nose at the three of you.

You don’t care, you’re excited by the luxury of this small diversion. The fresher onboard the ship is usually lukewarm at best with soap that smells like bleach. The blankets are scratchy and the bedding uncomfortable. You think about stealing the pillow from the hotel room once you arrive. 

Once inside your separate bedroom you lower your bag to the floor. You can't believe how beautiful and clean and bright everything is. You nearly skip into the tub, reveling in the warm water and sweet smelling soaps and hair cleansers. You change into fresh clothes and give the closed door between you a light tap. 

"Come in."

You walk into the adjoining room to see Grogu playing with his silver ball on the large bed. Din is setting up a small nest of blankets and pillows on the table across the room and you realize it's for the baby. 

"I'm going to grab something to eat at the bar downstairs," you tell him. "I saw it when we came in. Do you want me to bring you anything back?"

Din doesn't answer you at first. He fiddles with something in his pocket before crossing the room and shoving credits into your hand. 

"Just something for the kid." 

"I'm happy to pay."

Din says nothing, just stares at you through his visor. At least you assume he does. You'll never see his eyes so he could be closing them for all you know. You also know that the conversation is closed. 

"I'll get him something good."

Din makes a grunt of acknowledgement and then he's gone back to setting up a small bed for his son. You watch his broad back before moving out the door and down to the bar. 

The place is quiet, populated with a few tired travelers who, like you, need something to eat. You order a curried nuna roll and spotchka. You eat and drink slowly, looking out the window to the bright city. You wonder if you have enough energy to do explore tonight. 

"Hello beautiful." 

A deep voice sounds at your left and you see a handsome man dressed to the nines in expensive looking garb. He wears many elaborate looking braids in his long purple hair. He stands next to your table. 

"Seems we're both eating alone. You mind if I join you? I hate eating by myself." 

You nod shyly. You don't often get to socially interact with others on the job. You're usually blasting from one planet to the next. 

For the next little bit you and the handsome man chat back and forth. He's here for business and he asks you lots of questions about yourself. Its nice to have company, especially one this attractive and attentive.

"All this chatting has me parched," the man eventually says, sweeping a look over you appreciatively. "Can I buy you another spotchka?"

You look at your drained glass and nod. "Yes, thank you."

" I'll be right back, beautiful one."

You blush at the compliment and watch the handsome man walk off, weaving through the tables. You glance back out the window, feeling your heart trip inside your ribcage. It's been a long while since you had sex and this man seems to be putting out all the signals. 

Plus the one man you desperately want to sleep with can barely stand you. But that doesn't stop you from fantasizing about what it would be like to have a man like Din Djarin fuck you. Would he be gentle? Rough? 

Your still internally debating this when the man arrives back with your drink and slides it across the table to you. You realize only now that he's been asking so much about you that you don't even know his first name. 

You're about to ask him just that when you feel a looming presence at our back.

"It's time to go."

You glance over, surprised to the Mandalorian standing behind you. His hands are tight curls at his side. He seems furious.

"What? Why?" You scrunch your nose in confusion. "I'm just having a drink with a new friend." 

"Well your friend dropped something in your spotchka at the bar."

You whip your head back to face the man who looks at Din darkly. He tilts back in his seat, sucking at his teeth as he scans the imposing figure behind you as if he isn’t terrified. 

"And who are you?" 

"A friend."

Mando has never referred to himself as such and a distant part of you is touched by the remark. You kind of assumed he hated you.

"Well friend, I never did anything to this," he insists before tapping the side of your glass. "So you can just keep on walking."

Din sighs through the modulator, obviously tired from the day and the interaction. You wonder if he's going to leave you to get back to your semi-date. He surprises you by leaning forward, his chest plate nearly touching the top of your head.   

"Drink it then."

The man goes from agitated to suspiciously quiet at Dins request. No, not request, his order. The man's light eyes move from Din to you before he sneers.  

"Your father tag along with you on all your dates?"

You're about to reply when Din slowly tilts forward and his voice drops another register.

"Drink. It."

"I'm not-"

Din's blaster is at the man's temple immediately buzzing. He leans over you to do it, the beskar cold on your back. 

"If there's nothing wrong with it then you don't mind drinking it."

The man looks wildly around but Dins broad frame blocks you all from view of the other patrons. Finally his furious gaze lands back on the Mandalorian’s helmet.

"And if I don't?"

"Who said I was giving you a choice?" Din taps the barrel against the man's cheek. "Drink up."

There's something about the dark tease from Din that has a heartbeat between your legs. The man sighs heavily before looking at the untouched drink in front of you. He grits his teeth before sneering at you. 

"This was such-"

"I didn't say you could talk." 

Fuck, why are you so turned on by the sharp way Din commands this interaction? He holsters his weapon for the time being. 

You squirm in your chair slightly as you watch the man raise the glass to his mouth and throw the drink back. He lowers the glass back down onto the table, glaring at Din over your shoulder. 

"Satisfied?" He shakes his head and prepares to stand. "I'm outta here."

He goes to slide out of his chair but Din just speaks in that rasp of his, low and sultry. 

"You'll sit there until I say you can go."

There it is, that thrumming between your legs growing stronger. The three of you sit in silence, the man blinking at the two of you and frowning. You're confused at what Din is getting at when the man suddenly relaxes, slumping slightly in his chair and laughing quietly to himself. 

What the fuck?

You can still feel Din pressed up against you from behind. You even feel the vibration of his speaking through his beskar.  

"Pick up the glass."

The man stares up at Din with a crooked smile and drowsy hooded eyes. "S’empty." 

Din is silent in reply and the man exhales, knowing what will come next if he disobeys. You watch as the handsome man reaches forward and shakily raises the glass, but you note that his movements are uncoordinated. 

The glass clunks onto the tabletop when his fingers can no longer grip it properly. The man looks like he wants to say something ugly but thinks better of it. He tries again to grip it, but he’s weaker than a baby tooka.

"Don't fight it," Din tells the man. "It's inevitable." 

The man goes to reply but you can see the way his lids begin to lower and he starts to tilt forward.  You continue watching the man continue to slump over the table until his forehead connects with it. 

"And now we're going," Din says with a light tap to your shoulder. 

You respond immediately, standing and then Din's got his large hand at the small of your back and is guiding you through the bar to the elevators in the lobby. You shoot him a concerned look. 

"I never got the kid anything to eat."

"He was exhausted and passed out. I'll get him a big breakfast tomorrow." 

He punches the number for your floor and the two of you ride up in silence before you glance over at him. He's such an imposing figure to many in his armor and helmet, but you find him strangely reassuring. 

"How did you know?"

"I know his type and I've seen it before. Drugged you would have felt relaxed and even giddy. He would have suggested you go back to his room and under the influence you would have agreed. They're he would have taken all your credits and if he was feeling particularly bold he'd have some fun with your unconscious body as well." 

You shudder at the realization you were so close to having something happen to you. Thank the Maker Din happened to be in the bar and notice just then. What if he’d arrived later?

"Thank you," you tell him earnestly placing a hand over his vambrace. "I'm so glad you were there." 

Din's helmet tips down to see your hand on his body and you snatch it back, embarrassed. You've never touched each other before. 

The elevator stops and the two of you exit quickly. You head into the room and part from him immediately going into your room. You're so embarrassed at your emotional response you don't even wish the sleeping kid a goodnight. 

///

It's dark and the kid is snoring across the room. Din wears only his pants in the bed. His chest is bare and warm to the touch. And his helmet rests next to him on the bed, prepared to throw it on when necessary. 

He's just drifting off when he hears the soft sound of your whimper through the door. 

"Drink it," you murmur, breath catching in your throat. "Fucking do it." 

Wait, are you getting off to the memory of that asshole from earlier? Just because he was handsome? The thought makes him clench his teeth furiously. Here he is mooning over you and your pleasuring yourself to thoughts of another man. 

"He told you to do it," you groan, "so do it."

Din hears your shudder so much clearer now that only a door separates you

"Fuck, Din-"

Din freezes in his bed, his eyes blown wide. Did you just-?

"Just once," you pant in your room, voice trembling with desire. "Just fuck me once. I'll make you feel so good." 

Din's cock is immediately hard. You're thinking about him in bed right now? The thought makes him feel heady. 

"Right there," you moan, voice growing louder. 

You don't realize how the sound is traveling. He's worried you're going to wake the kid. That's what he tells himself as he pulls on his helmet and shuffles to your door. He could knock and tell you to quiet down. He could snap that you're making too much noise in your sleep and save you both the embarrassment. 

But instead he pushes into your room and snaps the door closed behind him. 

///

You hear the sound of your door opening and closing and you immediately go silent, your fingers trapped between your thighs. Then there is silence. You wonder if you imagined it but there feels like a presence is in the room with you. 

Your face is warm and cunt soaked from your fantasizing. You're irritated that your orgasm is suddenly draining from your body. Still you remain stoic, frightened that perhaps the man from downstairs found you.

"Keep going." 

Din’s husky voice is unmistakable in the darkness. You lay in bed frozen, unsure of what you do or say at this point. He's your boss. You’re sure that you heard him wrong; this is just your fantasy bleeding over into real life.

You hear a creak and then feel the bed dip as he lowers himself next to you. His body is warm and you think he may be shirtless. The thought makes you shiver. 

His wide palm slides down your forearm, trailing down to confirm his suspicions; your fingers are crooked over your clit and your pussy is wrecked. Din's brings his hand to lightly rest over yours, waiting to feel how you touch yourself. 

"I said keep going."

You choke on your reply, exhilarated and terrified. Din has never made overtures towards you and yet here he is wearing his helmet and not much else. You can feel the heat from his skin and a part of you is desperate to lick it.

After a second of hesitation you begin to circle your clit, embarrassed at the wet sounds that occur. You're so fucking turned on right now you're dripping and Din’s hand is heavy over yours. 

Din feels his heartbeat everywhere, his cock, his chest, his ears. He can't believe he's doing this and he can't believe you're letting him. But you're so wet and he's so hard that he feels emboldened.  

"What were you thinking about just now?" 

You want to be humiliated but you're too turned on to deny him. And let's be honest, he's here with you in bed so obviously he's not offended. Even if its just for one night you want the fantasy to be real.

"You. I was thinking about you."

Din feels his breath catch. Obviously he suspected it, but hearing it out loud is something else.

"You think about me a lot?"

"Every time I touch myself." 

Din bites down on his lower lip, wishing so strongly that his helmet could come off in your presence. He wants to kiss you right now, to suck your tongue into his mouth. 

"I think about sucking your cock," you continue to confess as your fingers work faster over your clit. "About how you'd sound if I licked you so softly over and over."

His fingertips feel as your fingers begin to rub quicker against your clit. He swallows a groan, shifting closer to you.  

"What else?"

You don't miss how his voice sounds a little breathless. For some reason that causes fresh arousal to coat your fingers.

"I think about how I want to keep your cock warm while you drive the ship. Just sitting there for hours while you guide us through the galaxy. Not moving until you tell me I can." 

Din groans and you lose your train of thought as he gently urges your fingers from between your legs only to replace them with his own. Now it’s him pressing against your clit, him pinching lightly before rolling the slippery flesh between the pads of his fingers. Your head falls back on the pillow; hips rolling as Din finally touches you where you've always dreamt of. 

"I think.... I think about you fucking me on the floor like an animal," you confess in a hush. You have many times; thoughts of Din unrestrained have you arching into your hand most nights. You feel as Din shifts, elastic snapping and the dry sound of skin along skin.  

"More." 

It takes you a moment to realize that he's brought his cock out of his pants and is stroking himself as he teases you with his fingers.

"I fantasize that behind your helmet you’re watching me."

"I'm always watching you."

This confession has you feeling electric. His thick fingers are slipping inside you, coating themselves in your arousal. For a moment you just let yourself give into the sensation, thighs spread and hands clutching the bed for purchase. 

"Din."

He breathes slowly beside you and you attempt to touch his bare skin but he pulls back. The meaning is clear: he'll touch you, but you don't get to touch him. 

"I watch you when you work and you don't notice me," he continues as his fingers begin to slide in and out of your soaked cunt, the drag and pump making you keen. "I watched you tonight at the bar."

"Why?"

"At first because you were taking so long. And then because I was jealous seeing you with that useless piece of shit."

His fingers are sliding in and out of you quickly. He's fucking your pussy with just his digits and you're seeing stars, he grunts when your body trembles under his touch. 

"Jealous at the thought that he was going to get to fuck you instead of me." 

He didn't realize until tonight that perhaps you wanted him just as badly. He strokes his cock more furiously, the pre-cum drooling over his knuckles, making each tug slick and delicious. Your hips are jumping and he swallows a moan when he feels you start to flutter around his knuckles. 

"Din-"

"Don't talk," he orders in a husky murmur. "Just come for me." 

And you do. You come so loudly that his hand comes off his cock to cover your mouth to keep from waking the kid next door. You taste the salty pre-come from his palm, eyes rolling back as you catch your breath. Din sounds equally spent, despite the sound of his hand furiously stroking his cock. 

"Please," you beg in a cracked voice as you slide down the bed, your fingers lightly tugging his hand from his stiff and pulsing cock. 

 Din feels your mouth circle the tip of him, tongue swirling around the mushroom head. You smile around his cock, taking it deeply and groaning when you hear his unrestrained hiss of pleasure. 

"I think about you," he suddenly tells you in a rumble. 

He feels you pull off of him, tongue darting out to lick a stripe from base to tip. Your heart is thrumming in your chest, a smile blooming in the pitch black that he cannot see. You’re delighted to hear this, relieved that this lust hasn’t been one sided.

"What do you think about?"

"About this right here. Your mouth on my cock." Din swallows as your hand begins to stroke him. "Only wish I could see it."

He feels your hand falter slightly around the base of him.

"Turn on the light." 

He doesn't hesitate. He reaches up to flick the light on before staring down his body to see you there between his legs. Your hair is mussed and falling into in your flushed face, your luscious tits spilling out of your nightdress. You raise a brow in silent question as you begin to suckle lightly.

Well?

Din wasn't expecting it to go this far. He told himself he was just going to talk about the noise carrying over into his room but now you're between his legs with your hot mouth stuffed full of him. 

"Better than I ever imagined."

You keep your eyes trained on him as you take him deeper, relishing the groan that sounds out from behind his helmet. You look up his golden body and hold in a sigh. He's beautiful. 

"Faster," he all but begs, legs shaking when he watches your head bob up and down for him.

Your mouth is stretched so wide, full of him. You're so wet you can't stand it. Despite coming moments earlier you throb everywhere. Your fingers snake between your thighs, pausing as you look up at him with an imploring gaze.

“Go ahead,” he nods.

You begin to rub furiously as he bucks his hips and his cock up into your mouth. He fits there so perfectly, so delicious and thick. Its seconds before he watches the hand beneath your nightdress still and he feels your mouth quiver before you shiver and continue. 

Your soaked fingers come to stroke the base at the same time as you hollow your cheeks and Din feels like he's in another galaxy. He can't help but let his head drop back when you take him to the hilt and you don't gag, you just keep going, eyes closed

He spreads his legs wide, spearing up into your mouth as he looks back down at you. You don't falter, you take every thrust and you want more. It's not long before Din feels his stomach tightening and spine tingling. 

"You want it down your throat?"

You nod, eyes opening to shoot him a cock drunk smile, saliva at the corners. 

"Mhm."

You look so peaceful as you hum in delight around him. That sweet desire is what sends him over the edge into pleasure. He spills himself down your throat, body jerking and strangled noises escaping through the modulator. 

You suck and swallow, not wanting to waste any part of him. When he's finally spent and his legs twitch you crawl back up the length of his body and collapse next to him. He curls around you, arm falling over your middle. He speaks to you in a rough whisper as you fall asleep. 

"Tomorrow morning we can see about that floor fantasy." 

[mochamadeleines]

When y/n does something so cringe that i have to look at the invisible camera for a sec.

[mochamadeleines]

i am a die hard game version joel miller lover

[mochamadeleines]

Watch Your Mouth

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Silence kink. Size kink. Breeding kink. Age gap. Joel is a lot more experienced (!) Finger sucking. Orgasm denial. Soft dom!Joel x10000.

Word count: 1.9k

Maybe a hand was too much.

A kiss to stifle your cries, a tongue between your lips to steal any trace of a whimper before it could ever leave. Joel knew by the way your wet, pliant hole stretched wider and wider for him with each thrust that you’d eventually quiet down—but he needed silence now.

And he’d get it when he clamped his palm over your mouth. At first, your brows lifted with surprise, then pinched inward like you didn’t understand, then twitched again, involuntarily, when the head of his cock cleared a path straight toward your cervix. You whimpered into his hand and made a point to dig your heels even deeper in his back. Joel had promised he’d be better about that.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled.

Another stab. Another whimper, only louder this time.

“Sorry, baby, I’m—” Joel stopped to fight back a groan of his own, before pressing his palm down with even more force, “—sorry, jus’ need ya real quiet right now, okay?”

You tried to nod, but the weight and stricture of his grip were as heavy as lead against your face. Add to that the soft, sawing motions of his cock going in and out of your cunt and the nudge of his oversized tip at your cervix, and it was all you could do to just lay there and take it. Joel knew this was brand new to you—he’d been your first not too long ago and the only partner since—so he eased back and lifted his hand when you gave it a tug.

Grey stubble was already licking at the corners of your mouth with Joel’s minuscule kisses of reassurance when you giggled and squeezed him tighter between your legs:

“I’m tryin’, Joel. Really, I am,” you whispered.

“I know, sweet pea,” he whispered back, “I know.”

He took the palm he’d used to stifle your moans and smoothed it over your cheek, coming to rest at one side so he could kiss you fully. Maybe a hand was too much.

He’d inculcate restraint some other way, and if it didn’t come easy, a few more fucks on the forest floor like this one would probably do the trick. Your mouth opened up for his tongue just like your cunt would open up for more of his cum and the rest of your body would surely follow suit, learning to control the noises of pleasure as needed.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured against your lips, feeling you clench around him and expel a breath rather than whine. He withdrew himself to the tip, then plunged back in, “Such a good, perfect girl for me, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

At length, you yelped into his mouth. You couldn’t help it. Rather than reprimand you with words or smother your lips with his palm, though, Joel kept fucking you gently.

“‘S’okay, pretty girl, it’s okay. I know that feels good.”

His mouth was next to your ear now, praises audible to no one else but you. It added a whole new dimension to your pleasure; Joel could tell from the way your walls constricted around him and choked him, sucked him in. The feeling nearly elicited a groan from his chest, but of course, he had all the resolve of a seasoned professional. Decades and decades of practice had done that for him.

“Joel,” you mewled.

Your face was screwed up in a grimace, eyes likely to be brimming with tears any second now. Joel slowed his pace once more, felt a pang of guilt for how big he felt inside you—how those decades and decades of practice set you drastically apart from each other in experience—and this time, he didn’t try to muffle your whines. He just stroked the top of your cheek with one thumb, and with the other, snaked a path between your body and his.

Admittedly, Joel was still learning about yours. He wasn’t sure if the whimpers you’d made were born wholly of pleasure or just a sense of being stretched out and filled. Because you yourself were still learning to be vocal, Joel figured he’d give the latter a stab. He started thumbing your clit in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure.

It worked, and it didn’t.

Your walls parted easily beneath the quiet ministrations of his thumb, opening yourself more to Joel’s thrusts, but they also tore a scream out of your throat—the kind that was liable to stir the leaves on every tree and alert any clicker within a two-mile radius to your presence.

The kind of outcome Joel had been trying to prevent when he’d brought you on patrol with him in the first place. The kind of sound he was trying to fuck out of your body completely; teach you to keep quiet and still for when the two of you inevitably got bored during perimeter watch and rolled the sleeping bag out to fuck.

Joel tensed above you and cast a quick look around. Sure, he’d picked a decently safe spot, but then you—

“Joel, I—”

Without thinking, the man stopped and stuck the first thing he could possibly fit in your mouth: his thumb. Whatever you’d been trying to say to him was promptly lost in a hum against his knuckle, lips enveloping the thick, callused digit like some tangy-flavored lolly. Joel’s hips sank back into yours, slowly, and he felt the reverberations of another moan spill over his finger.

He swallowed and stared. That shouldn’t have been nearly as sexy as you’d just made it seem, especially when your life and his hung in such a precarious position.

Joel dragged his cock back out and happened to graze a sensitive, spongy ridge inside you, which made you moan again. You hollowed your cheeks and gritted your teeth a bit more against his thumb, gripping Joel’s forearm for support as he continued to fuck you.

And, had you stayed like that a moment longer, you probably would’ve seen a shiny string of drool start to pool and stretch and fall out from one side of his mouth. Instead, Joel switched hands and popped the thumb that had been toying with your clit into your mouth, eyes glazed over with desire as they drank in the sight of you sucking his thumb again. The tip was still soaked with your warmth and slipped easily past your parted lips.

Another sound bubbled up your throat when you got a taste—Joel had always been in the habit of kissing you after eating you out, so you were well-acquainted with the flavor, but never had he fed you your own arousal on his finger. This felt obscene, something more than just pornographic as those deep, brown, lust-addled irises remained glued to where your lips closed around him.

“Y’like that, huh?” he said, voice reduced to a whisper once more while you nipped and suckled at the skin.

You bobbed your head to indicate yes, opened your mouth to tell him softly that you liked it so much—loved the taste and grit of his finger on your tongue, in fact. You wanted to show him you could be vocal, too, when Joel’s frame rose over yours a little more and seemed to blanket it entirely. Like he wanted to shield you, in a way.

“Shhhh, shhh…keep suckin’ like that. Stay still, okay?” Joel murmured, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that this was a test. He was nodding, rutting gently between your legs, wedging his thumb deeper inside the wet, velvety contours of your mouth and waiting for a look from you to say that you understood.

You weren’t sure if you did, but you nodded anyway. Joel’s thumb made a wonderful sort of makeshift gag as he continued to thrust inside of you, his body somehow lowering to get even closer to yours. When he’d gotten sufficiently near, he pressed a kiss to the side of your mouth—now stuffed with his thumb and leaking spit—and muttered something about how good you were for him, how nicely you fit around his cock. Then he tilted his hips and proceeded to pound you into the ground like an animal in heat. The only thing separating your ass from the patch of grass underneath it was a flimsy little blanket, and the only thing tethering you to earth, it seemed, was Joel’s cock. Your ankles locked behind his back, and his nose settled next to yours, breathing hard.

Even if he knew how to suppress his moans, the panting and strangled gasps were far beyond Joel’s control—as were the filthy, perverse words pouring out of his mouth.

“‘S’all mine, ain’t she, hon? Tell me this pussy’s mine.”

“Tell me she’s mine to fuck, stuff full’a cum, right here.”

And he gestured to the spot where your body stopped and his began, squelching noises punctuating each new thrust. Neither one of you minded the sound right now, especially when you knew where this was headed next.

Joel was grinning against your skin before he kissed it.

“She wants a baby, doesn’t she, honey? Wants me to put a baby in her and make that belly swell up pretty?”

You knew just as well as Joel that neither of you wanted children in a world like this—thoughts of breeding only occurred to you both when you were about to cum. Particularly when Joel’s thumb was slipping out of your mouth and his fingers were pinching either side of your face in a single grip, lips moving above yours. Making you meet his gaze as he squeezed your cheeks in a pout.

“You want my babies, baby?” Joel mumbled.

You felt a familiar twitch in his cock. You nodded.

Joel pinched harder and shook his head, unsatisfied.

“Say, ‘I want your babies, Joel.’”

“I want your babies, Joel.”

“Say, ‘I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me.’”

“I’ll be nice and quiet if you cum inside me, please, Joel.”

Your voice was already hoarse from how low you had to whisper, how hard Joel’s broad and hefty stomach was pressing into your own, stealing the breath from your lungs and wreaking havoc on your brain as you struggled for air and imagined a world where your tummy was a little rounder. Plugged up with his cum one day and growing bigger with his child there inside you the next. The thought was dizzying in the abstract, enticing to the slightest degree in reality, and if you had to guess from the expression of the man currently sweating, grunting, and rutting into your body, you’d bet he felt the same.

It really was a shame you had to stay so quiet.

But, whether a clicker was five miles away or standing directly over his shoulder, Joel didn’t seem to care at all. Soft, silent reserve cast aside for the time being and hips slamming a bruising pace against your own, Joel seemed fine to let out sounds to show he was right about to cum. Grunts and whimpers were spilling left and right off his filthy, pretty tongue; his eyes were all but rolling back.

Truly, he couldn’t look more magnificent if he tried.

“Fuck, baby, I’m— I’m so close. Gonna fill you up.”

Featherlight clusters of soft grey hair were now darkened with sweat. They rested comfortably across his forehead. Under them, two thick brows furrowed in concentration.

“Gonna knock you up,” he added through gritted teeth.

That part was not a threat, but a promise.

You felt a tug and a pinch in your own stomach, signaling your oncoming release. You spread your legs wider for Joel, pressed a kiss to his jaw when he leaned in closer, made room for him to spill his load just how he wanted, and when it seemed he was a second from his peak—

A twig snapped nearby.

Both of you froze in place.

[mochamadeleines]

Cry, Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Warnings: 18+. Dacryphilia (kinda). Unprotected p-in-v. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Daddy kink. Jealous Joel.

Notes: Sorry for using pussy pronouns. It will happen again.

Joel Miller was a man of few words in most every place except the one where he found himself about to beat the brakes off your pussy. Then he never shut the fuck up.

“Uh-huh…just a little more…I know, sweet girl, I know.”

You had your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of his ‘71 Ford F-100, but rather than driving anywhere, your ass was comfortably parked on the front of his jeans—straddling his lap backwards while you rubbed your half-clad cunt over stonewashed denim. It was hell.

You’d been grinding against the bulge beneath those jeans so hard, and for so long, your white cotton undies had parted to the side, and your pleasure was nearly stretched commensurate with just how pathetic you felt.

Your head dropped between your two hands on the black molded plastic of the wheel, and you let out a whine.

“Joel—”

“Keep goin’.”

“This ain’t fair!”

Without hesitation, the hands that were holding your hips tightened their grip, and now Joel was raking your lower half over his. Rutting your core back and forth.

“You wanna know what ain’t fair?” he seethed.

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

“How much she’s been droolin’ over me all night.”

‘She’ meaning your unfucked cunt, of course.

Joel then punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard press of his palm—forcing you to lay flat on the steering wheel, hips tilted back to him. With just one callused finger of his other hand, he found you soaked between your folds. He dragged it from your clit to your aching hole, and you heard him sigh, as though sad.

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Joel said. Lamenting.

You were almost lost to the sensation of his finger rubbing you up and down, but somehow, you managed, ‘W-W-What is, Joel?’ in between soft, plaintive sounds.

Sometimes you forgot how much older he was than you. Sometimes you said he was just like the boys your age. Other times he had you pinned like this, breaths calm and cruelly measured while you damn near came apart beneath his hand, and then you remembered everything.

“You just couldn’t wait ‘til we got home,” he grumbled.

Using the same hand he’d been stroking you with, Joel laid a quick slap to your cunt, and you jumped. Your head narrowly missed the roof of his truck; still, you groaned.

“‘M’sorry, Joel,” you keened.

You weren’t. The old man knew you weren’t.

The hand that had been splayed over your back sank in. The force of that push pressed your belly to the chipped Ford logo at the center of the steering wheel, and with the added pressure went the blare of the car’s horn.

The sound might’ve lasted two seconds before you scrambled back, desperate, into Joel’s broad chest. A couple old-timers making their way from the bar to their cars in the parking lot cocked their heads curiously in your direction a couple yards away. Seeing nothing of note, they lost interest just as quick and kept walking.

“Sorry for what?” Joel said.

At the moment, he didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his truck was parked a mere stone’s throw away from the Tipsy Bison, and bar-goers were milling freely between the building and the cars all around you. His belt unbuckled all the same, zip came down in a blink, and his thick, veiny, throbbing, and angry cock came to rest between your cheeks. He started to push you forward.

“Sorry for— for flirtin’ with Tommy,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when you felt him run the head of his cock between your lips. You could hear a soft squelch.

“And Lucien?”

“And Lucien.”

“And—”

“And Dieter, and Frankie, and Javi, and Marcus.”

Rattling off the names of all the men you’d been flirting with at the bar to make Joel jealous and take you back home to fuck you became an embarrassing chant.

“And?”

“…and Mayor Garcia,” you completed, sheepishly.

Back in there, you hadn’t been too proud to stoop to a politician’s level, even. That was how needy you’d been to get attention, and now Joel was giving it to you.

As hard as he could—he didn’t wait for the ‘OK’ before seating you on his cock. You were simply pulled back from the wheel and into his lap, onto his stiff erection, and before you could steady yourself, he started drilling.

“Even through these panties—” Joel tugged at the cream-colored cotton he’d easily slipped past, “—even through that slutty little skirt, I could feel how wet she was.”

Your eyes squeezed shut, and your hands found purchase in the torn-up leather of the seat, fisting strings and patches of fabric in a helpless sort of plea as Joel took over. With the buttons of his dark green flannel searing a stripe down your spine and his grey-speckled chin coming to nudge between your neck and your shoulder as he fucked you, you felt content. Secure.

Spilling more for him, then. Seeping rivers down the length of his shaft as he breached your walls and made you his all over again. And again. Leaving trails of arousal with every thrust, and rolling your head, limply, into his.

“She cryin’ for me?” Joel breathed, “Or somebody else?”

As if on cue, his cock hit the most sensitive ridge inside you, and you felt yourself gush even more. Dripping now.

“You.” Your voice was raw.

“Me?” Joel’s degradingly sweet.

Before you could answer ‘you’ once more, the driver’s door cracked open beside you both. For one panicked, terrifying second, you thought someone from the bar might’ve caught you two—then you were stunned to look over and see it was Joel’s own tough, steel-toed boot that had propped the door open to the cool night air.

The truck was facing the bar’s front door, shielded only by some foliage and a hatchback car about half its size. Other than that, you were exposed to whoever happened to pass by the big, bay window and take a look inside.

Joel felt you tense, and he pressed a kiss to you neck. Then he slid you carefully, almost tenderly, to the left until you were perched over the side of the seat with your legs dangling out of the truck—still filled to the hilt with his cock and pressed tight to the front of his chest.

“Cry a little more,” he urged.

Then, when your pussy gave an involuntary clench and drenched him some more, he slipped a hand around your front and started toying with your clit. Your gaze was wide, almost frightened as you stared ahead at the bar and saw patrons making rounds about the tiny place, fearing one might see you and Joel, but it felt so good. And wrong. And reckless, having this man who was easily decades your senior bouncing you up and down on his cock and letting you soil the front of his Wranglers.

“Pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, pretty girl,” Joel let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a playful bite when you pulsed around him again, “Squeezin’ me real tight, too.”

It was like your body was beyond your own control. You scarcely even realized your cunt had him gripped with such force, much less made a mess of his old denim. He just held you to him and kept pressing rough, stubbled kisses to your shoulder, reminding you over and over how sweet you were, how well you were taking him, how nice and tight and goddamn pretty that pussy must’ve looked gushing around daddy’s cock—maybe we can fuck in front’a the mirror so we can see it later, huh, baby?

You would’ve said yes to anything he said, you reckoned.

Especially when his arms moved over your front and you felt him grin, and he hugged you while he fucked you—nobody made you feel quite as special while they were splitting you open. Nobody’s balls felt quite as heavy and firm and full while hitting your ass by turns, and certainly no one but Joel could make you cum just as quick when he leaned into your ear and said, ‘Let go for me, darlin’.’

You did, and you felt his warmth follow inside you with the friction of just two more thrusts. Your head fell back on his shoulder, a moan clawed out of your throat, and the warm, euphoric feeling of release washed over your senses in waves, one trembling sensation after the next. Joel’s groans were quick to spill into your own, and, likewise emptying himself, he held your hips to his and made sure every drop stayed right where he wanted it.

His spend was always heavy, but this load felt larger than usual—like he’d been aching to fuck you full of his cum. Just as you both were coming down from your highs, you couldn’t help but key in on that soft, sticky warmth, likely to come oozing as soon as Joel pulled out of you.

In fact, you got to be so focused that you jumped when you felt something press to your cheek a second later.

It took another moment to register it as a kiss from Joel.

Then his tongue, dragging softly up the side of your face.

You started to laugh, about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when you felt a tear slip out of your other eye. With the sudden, sharp influx of pleasure, the moisture had leaked out without you even feeling it. Joel grinned.

He gave your cheek a light squeeze, wiped the other tear with the pad of his thumb, and kissed you again before mumbling in your ear, almost teasing as he said it:

“Crybaby.”

[mochamadeleines]

la pafait ♡

[mochamadeleines]

their last dance huh

[mochamadeleines]

[mochamadeleines]

HANDS AND ARMS HANDS AND ARMS HANDS AND ARMS

[mochamadeleines]

The way Venom covered Eddie's mouth... 🤌✨

[mochamadeleines]

[mochamadeleines]

I miss them

[mochamadeleines]

Is this anything?

[mochamadeleines]

yea okay angry sex this, jealous sex that, but what abt giggly sex. what about the excitement and the pure joy in that. where he’s on top of you and kissing you and but it’s difficult for your lips to connect because the both of you are smiling too hard & he pulls back, giving you a breathless laugh and and and i would just like to say, as corny as it sounds, that’s making love right there

[mochamadeleines]

joel miller arm veins. thats it

[mochamadeleines]

frosted kisses

pt. ii to texas sweet

summary: after some serious distance, a nightmarish evening at the miller household leaves you and joel closer than before.

tags: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, fingering, pulling out, missionary, almost oral, joel is a consent king, gentle!joel, soft!joel, proud dad joel returns, tommy is here, so are sarah and ellie, don't ask how old they are i really can't tell you, tension, sexual tension, kind of angst(?), realistic sex, reader is in a panic as usual, but joel is really sweet, kissing, neck kisses, biting, scratching, mention of joel's dad gut (yum), joel in a wifepleaser, use of darlin' and baby and honey, one use of good girl, praise kink (a little), takes place during august (texas sweet was in june)

a/n: thank you to my biggest cheerleaders @mochamadeleines and @pascalssbabyy <3 also thank you to everyone for being so patient for this sequel. i hope you all enjoy !! :]

wc: 7.6k (sorry :3)

It is way too hot outside to be doing anything but laying in an ice bath, yet here you are leaving at 9am for your shift. The walk to the bus stop isn’t bad, but it does mean you have to walk by Joel’s house.

Joel.

He never followed through on that promise of taking you out for dinner, but it’s only been a month since that night. The two of you had been friendly in passing, since it’s hard to avoid one another, but you can see the avoidance in his eyes. A little while ago you looked up when “neighbours day” was, remembering how he said to let him know. But, it turns out that’s all the way in May, and it’s currently July… So. 

So you’ve been avoiding each other a little. That’s fine, it was a weird situation for the two of you to find yourselves in. You stared at Joel’s grey-blue truck when it rolled back down the street that night, the headlights flashing yellow on your walls. The hand resting on your chin still smelled like him, like his dick. 

Honestly, everything on you smelled like him for a little while, your shirt especially, but also your skin. Joel wouldn’t leave you alone, even though he physically was. Watching him from your window started to become an obsession, seeing the sweat soak through his t-shirt when he’d mow the lawn on the weekends. You couldn’t stop watching him, remembering how needy he was.

Your achy need for him was a constant at night, only competing for dominance over your mind by wondering how needy Joel was.

Nothing could drive the memory of his whimpers and groans out of your mind, the throb of his cock in your hand, and the way his hands twitched and grasped at nothing when he came. It would attack you at random times throughout the day, especially when you were on the bus coming home from work. Most of your days are boring, repetitive. The same texts from your mom, the same job, the same… everything. Joel was the most exciting thing for you, but that was short lived. It was just one evening.

It’s kind of fucked up how you just have to move on, sweaty palmed every morning as you pass by Joel’s house. It isn’t even like he’s home when you walk by, he starts work at around 8am. You would know because Tommy’s truck is noisy as all hell, it works great as a last minute alarm. 

Or at least he isn’t usually home. 

“Mornin’ darlin,” calls Joel as you step off your porch. 

His voice is just as warm and sweet as ever, like the sun today if it were kinder, but there’s an extra cheerful lilt in it. Turning your head, you see Joel still in his pajamas. It’s a weekday, so that’s odd, but what’s more odd is that he’s hanging balloons outside. 

A light grey wife pleaser stretches around his torso, showing off his thick arms and shoulders. This is not something you’ve seen Joel wear before, but he must have slept in it if the plaid pajama pants are anything to go by. 

It’s the polite thing to do to go over there and say hello, right? That’s what your mom would want you to do, to be neighborly. You’re not going over there to check him out. That would be crazy.

Crossing the grass from your house to his is easy, but spit is all caught in your throat by the time you get over to him. Jesus, are you drooling? 

“Hi Joel,” you manage to reply to his greeting as he tapes another balloon up to the overhang of his garage, “what are the balloons for?”

He grunts as he twists to fix the tape, the balloon nearly falling on his head. The way he’s stretching up is making the wife pleaser stretch up, exposing the skin of his waist. Your fingers twitch, wanting to touch there again. It makes your mind spin, thinking about how your hands have been there, that he knows what it’s like to have you on him. An explicit secret that neither of you share. You wish he was facing the other way so you could see his tummy, the plushness of it was so comfy against your arm.

“S’for Sarah,” he finally responds, turning to face you. 

And oh… oh that’s why he’s so damn happy. He had talked about it in passing a few times during the small talk you had made. Sarah’s birthday was in July and she planned on coming home for it, Joel was so bright everytime he talked about it. His smile is so much bigger when he talks about his daughters.

“Is she coming home today?” You ask, shifting on your feet. Joel nods, tearing off another piece of tape with his teeth.

“Uh-huh, pickin’ her up around noon. We’re doin’ a dinner tonight,” he says. You can see how his eyes are a little unfocused, excited. He sticks the tape to the knot of the balloon and starts to continue his sentence, but is cut off by the front door opening.

The sound catches your attention, your eyes flicking to the door. You didn’t see his truck in the driveway, but there’s Tommy Miller in all his glory.

You won’t lie to yourself, the Miller family clearly has good genetics. Tommy’s got these gorgeous waves in his black hair, and a charming smile too. But, he isn’t nearly as soft as Joel is. Not a player, but Joel’s been worn in by 2 daughters and a divorce, like a well loved plushie. Tommy hasn’t been worn in by anything, in fact he’s known for wearing things out. As much as you’ve heard the whispers at neighborhood events, the other Miller brother has never interested you. Tommy, of course, has shown interest in you once or twice. A few bottles in and he’ll talk to anything.

Today though, Tommy is behaving. He flashes you a kind smile, and nods.

“Hey neighbor-girl,” he greets.

You almost snort. You know Tommy knows your name, but he’s being weird. Did Joel tell him? Probably not. Do brothers share that sort of information? You’re getting sweaty again–

“Saw the flowers y’bought Ole Joel,” Tommy grins, “thought maybe his ex’d dropped by.”

Oh. Oh thank god. Thank god the flowers gave it away.

Joel snorts and then scowls at Tommy, shaking his head. He mutters something about you “having a name,” and suddenly all you can hear is the blood in your veins. A hot rush flies over you, but you’re flushed from the sun anyways. What difference will a blush make? It’s not that obvious. 

Distracted with your anxiety around the two, you barely realize that Tommy is scolding Joel now.

“S’nice girl gave you flowers and y’ain’t even invited her to the dinner tonight?” Tommy scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. Your eyes flash to his arms and Jesus does being brothers mean you’re both built as fuck? 

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice tight, “I was midway through a conversation with’er. Was just about to.”

They exchange a look you can’t really decipher. Tommy raises his eyebrows and Joel curls his lip in response. Then, Tommy turns on his heel and goes back in the house.

The heat outside is already uncomfortable, but now you feel awkward. You didn’t realize that Joel would invite you to something. Maybe he didn’t even want to, he just didn’t want to look like an asshat in front of Tommy. Joel looks sheepish in his pajamas, downturned frown neutralizing to a softer smile. He breathes in to speak, but now you don’t want his invite.

“Joel,” you say quietly, “you don’t have to invite me. I’d hate to intrude on your family time with Sarah.” 

You really thought that you’d want to speak to Joel after all this time, but this feels humiliating. A pity invite to his daughter’s birthday dinner? It’s not what you expected, or wanted. As much as you’d like to see Sarah, something about it feels wrong. What would you say?

“Hey, it's been awhile. How’s college been? Good! Aw, I’m glad. Yeah last time I saw your dad I jerked him off. Oh, you’re in STEM?”

No, that’s not what you want. He looks like he’s going to protest, but you have to shut him down. You’ve never really spoken to his other daughter, Ellie. It feels like a nightmare waiting to happen.

“I’m just your neighbor,” you wave your hand, as if you could make this go away.

Joel’s brows furrow, his mustache curling back downwards with his frown. Skittishly, his eyes flick away.

“I… I’d like it if y’came. Even if we’re just neighbors,” Joel says. He seems embarrassed about inviting you, a red hue glowing beneath the sweat on his neck. 

Alone, in front of the garage, it feels like he’s under you again. Why is he so shy? So bashful? Something in you is frustrated. You’ve been waiting for a month for any scraps, anything more than neighborly chit-chat, and now you have to turn him down. Doesn’t he realize you’ve been waiting for him? 

You don’t want to be just neighbors with this Joel, you want more. You want to know him more than just as “hot-single-dad-next-door.”

You want to know him the way you did when you were behind him on the couch.

But… Maybe this is Joel. You saw the pictures all over his house, and he runs a company with his brother. Family is clearly everything to him, and even if this isn’t a dinner-date like he promised, this is something more. It’s closer for him, this is his own version of pulling you in.

Besides, your mom would want you to say yes. It’s polite, right?

You concede to Joel’s wishes, as much as you want something else. He smiles really big when you agree, a shy “okay” leaving you. It’s not like you could ignore him anyways, not with the way his wife pleaser is stretched around him so… pleasingly.

He tells you that there’s a colour theme of black and blue, since Sarah wants everyone to match in the pictures. Joel starts to blab about what a good photographer she is, but you actually shut him down this time, so as to not miss your bus.

—

Somehow, standing on Joel’s porch is a lot worse than last time. You don’t have a bunch of flowers for your neighborly crush, or a set of hands to ease his back. All you have is the guilt in your gut for showing up at his daughter’s birthday dinner. 

It took you almost 45 minutes to pick an outfit. He mentioned blue and black, but didn’t mention what shade of blue. Everything you had felt either too dressy, or was literally pajamas. Eventually you found something that worked, but now you’re in your own head. Will Joel think this is nice? Does Joel even think you’re pretty in the first place? You can’t remember, your mind is blanking. 

Jesus, chill out. You’re going over for dinner, and this isn’t even about you. 

Swallowing the saliva in your mouth, you knock.

“I’ll get it!!” A voice yells from inside. Not Joel’s.

Tommy grins at you after he swings open the door. He’s done his hair back, instead of tying it back, and he’s wearing a blue and black, plaid, flannel. The Miller brothers seem to have a flannel for every occasion. 

“Well helloo Neighbor-Girl,” Tommy greets. His smile is devious as he stands in the doorway. 

Loud footsteps rush up behind Tommy and he’s suddenly being yanked out of your view by a hand. 

“Christ, Tommy, leave’er alone.” Joel grunts.

He isn’t wearing a flannel, which surprises you. His usual casual clothes have been replaced by a nice, black, western shirt. The stitching across the chest is done in black as well. Not unlike Tommy, is his slicked back hair. It’s short still, but it looks good pushed back. 

He tells you to keep your shoes on as he leads you to the backyard. You can’t keep your eyes off him as he and Tommy walk ahead of you. That black shirt, stretched across his back, the curls that lick upwards where his hair isn’t slicked. God, he looks stupidly good.

The house looks about the same. Same couch where you jerked him off, same table where the flowers used to sit, same pictures of his family on the walls. Everything feels different. Why doesn’t it look different?

Finally your eyes reach the backyard, and it looks magical. Various lights have been set up to create a relaxed atmosphere, with some comfortable lawn furniture set up on the deck. The barbecue is clearly cooking something, and Tommy walks to it automatically. 

Sarah and Ellie seem to be giggling to themselves, hunched over in secrecy. The sisters whisper to one another, but part once they see you.

“Hi,” Ellie says immediately, her bright eyes looking at you excitedly. You greet her in return, then wish Sarah a happy birthday.

She’s wearing a matching shirt to Joel’s, which is adorable. You know for a fact that Joel wouldn’t dress up past a button up or flannel for most occasions, meaning Sarah probably begged him for this. Even the wash of their jeans are the same. 

You’re just about to strike up a conversation with the two girls when Joel comes up behind you and squeezes your upper arm gently.

“‘M sittin’ over there, if you’d like to join,” he motions to an outdoor couch identical to the one Sarah and Ellie are sitting on.

It’s close enough that you could go back to talking with the girls, but once you’ve sat down beside Joel, they’re back to giggling. 

—

It feels like everybody knows.

This fear from earlier has manifested in front of your eyes, this awful anxiety growing. You could barely finish your food, even though it was delicious. Your mouth is dry all the time, you can’t stop drinking water. You hyperfocus on every little action you take, feeling crazy,

Tommy has been staring at you like he’s holding a secret, his eyes seem to say “I know something you don’t,” and every time you turn your back Sarah and Ellie are giggling again. For them, you try to cut some slack. Ellie is a teen, and Sarah isn’t a lot older than her, they’re young girls, of course they’re giggling. It’s Tommy who’s making you anxious, especially with the scolding scowls that Joel keeps sending him. 

The conversations are fine once you stop eating, mostly with you listening and observing the dynamic in the family. Tommy talks about this recent client he and Joel have been working with as you all eat cake, but it’s hard to focus when it feels like everybody knows what you did.

Joel seems to notice this anxiety over the course of the night, looking at you with mild concern a few times. He even asks if you’re alright at some point, holding the “darlin” for once, and you just tell him you had a rough day at work. Total lie, the only rough thing about this day is how you feel like you’re going to throw up all your food anytime someone in his family starts to perceive you.

Later in the evening, Joel rests his hand on your knee when he reaches for his beer, and you flinch. He seems caught off guard by this, but luckily nobody else notices. His eyes are apologetic as he looks at you, all brown and sappy.

Shame is burning in your veins. He’s invited you here to spend this special night with his daughter and family. He's been so kind to feed you too, but now you’ve made him feel weird too. It feels like your anxiety is leaking out of your pores, a haze of guilt clouding your mind and flooding his. Joel hasn’t seemed bothered at all tonight, or at least he hasn’t shown it. 

But there he is, accommodating you as he leans a little closer and asks;

“S’gettin’ late. I could walk y’home.”

There he is, there’s your Joel. Your Joel, the one who you know as a caring man. In any other situation this would feel like someone politely requesting you leave the party early, but not with Joel. He’s conscious of your emotions, and he can tell you’re too overwhelmed to be here anymore. There’s your sweet boy, reeling you in before it gets to be too much.

You only nod in response.

It’s a few more minutes before you get out of there, with Tommy and Ellie stacking copious amounts of leftovers for you onto paper plates, lidding them with tin foil. You use this time to talk a little with Sarah, asking about her time in college. She’s happy to share with you, and you can see Joel in her. She has the welcoming energy, the same warmth in her that pools in her eyes. Even without the outfits they would match. 

Ellie, however, must be spending too much time with Tommy. They both wear shit eating grins as they hand you the stack of plates stuffed with leftovers, with Tommy asking you to “Come back anytime.”

Blood rushes to your face fast, and you toddle off to the door quickly after saying thank you.

—

The air on the porch is cooler, but your adrenaline is making you run hot. You want to stop sweating, but all the looks and giggles and comments from the night are running through your mind repeatedly. What did they know? How did they know? Joel wouldn’t tell them anything like that, would he? Thank God you didn’t stay long enough to be in those pictures that Sarah wanted to take. 

The front door thuds shut a moment later. Joel’s steps fall heavy behind you, then he’s beside you. He’s barely touched you tonight, and even now he keeps his distance. You’re glad for it, you couldn’t have handled it anyways.

You both walk the short distance to your house, using the pathway rather than cutting through the grass like you usually do. It feels like you should be enjoying these extra seconds of time with him, but all you feel is embarrassed.

He breathes in the cool air of the summer night through his nose, chest puffing, then blows it out.

“I am so, so, fuckin’ sorry,” he says.

It takes you off guard immediately. You felt like you were acting crazy all night just by your own overthinking, but it was also fuelled by Joel’s non-chalantness about everything. He didn’t seem to notice anything all night but you and how anxious you were. This feels like the start of a conversation, so you put the leftovers down on the bottom step of your porch. 

“I– Ellie, when I brought her home after you were over last,” he begins, “she got home and saw the flowers right away. I told her not to make nothin’ of it, but she went and rattled off to Sarah and Tommy.”

Oh, okay. It was just the flowers. That’s good, at least they think you’re a lovesick loser, rather than the neighborhood floozy. 

“I told them to act right tonight, begged’em to. The three of’em have been torturing me about it, I think it’s why I avoided you,” Joel admits quietly. 

He’s doing it again, soothing your worries without meaning to. He’s a cooling balm on your burning brain, a sense of sanity cleansing you. 

Joel wasn’t ashamed of what happened between you two, his family was just being shitstirrers about him receiving flowers. It wasn’t on purpose, and most importantly–

“I’m really sorry, angel. I should have called or– or somethin. Askin’ you to come tonight was askin’ for trouble from them. My daughter’s birthday ain’t makin’ up for shit, ‘specially not when they’re actin’ like that.”

An apology. Joel Miller seemed like a solid man before, one that was dependable, polite, and kind, but now he seems near-perfect. He’s taking accountability, admitting how he acted and why, and apologizing. No wonder he has two incredible daughters, both of whom love him dearly. 

You stand there for a minute, a little speechless. You can’t remember a time that a man apologized to you and seemed to really mean it, or at least understand what he did wrong. But there’s Joel, in his black western shirt that’s rolled up his thick forearms, eyes soft and sorry as he looks at you in the blue-black night. He’s not like any man you’ve met before, not like your dad, friends back home, or your ex-boyfriend. 

Tonight isn’t like any night you’ve had in Texas so far, but for so many different reasons. You’ve had a few weird nights, sure. Like what you shared with Joel, or the time you took the wrong bus home and got lost downtown, but it’s weird in a good way.

Tonight, you get to accept an apology from a man who truly seems sorry. Who’s admitted his wrongs, explained what happened, and more than that he’s been earnest about it. You didn’t have to beg for this apology, or argue why he should apologize. He did that on his own, made up his mind, and said sorry like a real man would. 

It’s hard to make up your mind on what to do though, whether you should throw yourself at him and kiss him dizzy, or to just say “It’s alright, no hard feelings.”

You settle somewhere in the middle, taking his hands into your own. Your thumb pads rest in the centre of his palms, pushing down and massaging his hands. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, voice unsteady. 

Joel isn’t at fault for his family being devious and obviously way too interested in his love life. What he is at fault for, is avoiding you. Brave enough to apologize, pussy enough to avoid the girl he likes. You keep talking.

“I wish you would have spoken to me about this, it made me feel awkward,” you tell him.

He looks up from your joined hands then, looking at you face on. Shame is painting his features, but he’s trying to be courageous, you can tell.

There is no “I know I should have,” or “I’m sorry you felt that way.” Just his voice saying, “I’m sorry.”

No if’s, and’s, or but’s. He’s sorry without excuse or pride. 

The night air is still brisk on your skin, but Joel is warm everywhere. If you laid a hand onto his cheek you would feel hot flesh burning you back. His eyes flit from your own for a moment, decisive. 

“I’d really, really, like to have dinner with you sometime. I know tonight was a disaster, so I won’t be offended if y’say no, but… I wanna make this up to you.”

This feels so much realer than last time, like he’s gripping your heart in his hand and squeezing as it beats. Joel isn’t just saying this in passing after he’s come in your hand, he’s not awkward and politely asking to return a favor. Joel wants this, wants you, wants to have dinner with you. It probably should have occurred to you when he invited you to his daughter’s birthday dinner, but it’s only hitting you right now. No more pity invites, he wants this. 

Joel Miller wants this, he wants you, and he’s standing there with your hands in his, with his stupid soft eyes and with his heart on the line. He’s beautiful right now, standing with you as sorry as he can be. You’ll let him have this, he’s asking for it himself. Joel’s being so much braver this time around.

“I think we could do that,” you reply quietly.

His shoulders relax, brow unfurrowing. You can see the relief flood over him instantly, and he looks beautiful then too. 

It’s easy from there. Joel’s voice is so soft when he’s grateful, quiet as he thanks and arranges a date-night with you. The two of you decide that a night in would be fine, since Joel ends up working late pretty often. You’re fine with this, and would honestly rather have him to yourself anyways. No more prying eyes when you’re with him, no more over-bearing perceptions that make your brain fizzle out with anxiety. Just you and Joel. 

Admittedly, this silly crush on Joel began at a pretty surface level. Not shallow, but all you knew about him was that he was a hot dad and a nice guy. Now, though? Now he’s proven himself, shown you that there’s something in him that you can reach for. Everything’s bigger in Texas, but so far it’s only made you feel small. Being around Joel hushes you, like a kiss to a scrape. You want to know him deeper. 

He squeezes your hands, then drops them so you can pick up your leftovers. You feel a little shy turning your back to him as you make it up to your door, but then he speaks.

“You looked real pretty tonight, angel, more’n usual.”

You hope he can’t hear the squeak you make when the door shuts behind you.

—

It’s a few days later, and Joel is supposed to be coming soon. He warned that he’s been working late recently, that he probably won’t be off work until eight that evening. You don’t care, you made him dinner. 

It’s sitting in the kitchen, ready to be rewarmed when he gets to your house. It’s 8:30 now, he should be here soon. You’re tucked away on the couch, settled after recooling the house with your air conditioner. To be honest it should be illegal to cook during summers like this. You sweated so much you thought about taking another shower, but it wouldn’t have helped.

Besides, Joel’s showing up to your house in probably 10 minutes, sweaty and gross from work. It won’t be like you’re any grosser in comparison.

As predicted, he does show up ten minutes later. His hair is a mess and he smells like hard work, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters when he’s in your doorway, toeing off his boots, and asking how your day was. Joel’s eyes keep shyly meeting yours as you lead him to your living room and turn to face him. He’s nervous, clearly, but it’s sweet. You’re both out of your element again, this time in your house instead.

Joel’s eyes flit around the room when he’s avoiding your eyes, taking in your home similar to how you did his when you were there not so long ago. You wonder what he’s thinking, hoping he doesn’t find you to be boring. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fists and laughing nervously, and you keep watching how his adam's apple bobs in his throat, and how he vibrates with his laughter. He looks puppylike in the soft light of your home, brown eyes glistening.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, tilting your head upwards. He looks so huge in your little space.

Joel nods sheepishly, and so you lead him into the kitchen.

—

They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and maybe Joel is the reason they say that. He groaned his way through dinner, with his eyes rolled back and compliments flying off his tongue when he wasn’t chewing. He listened to every word you said intently, taking his time with the food you had made. It had taken almost 40 minutes for him to finish that plate of food, and you saw just earlier that week how fast he could pound back a meal.

He’s savoring you with this silent praise you’ve never experienced.

And now he’s sat beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders, and you’re snuggled back into him. The remote seems like a prop as you use it, aimlessly scrolling through a streaming service for a movie. Your thumbs are just rubbing over the rubber buttons now, your eyes focused on how his chest rises and falls. 

“I really don’t mind what you wanna watch, baby,” He says.

His voice seems so much nicer up close like this, when his face is just above yours and you’re beside him. 

“Or we don’t have to watch anything at all, we can just talk.”

How are you supposed to control yourself around him? How can he just walk into your home and fit right into your space, and look that good and be so warm? It feels like your bones are fighting against your skin to move, like the blood in your veins is yearning to jump rope. Joel is turning you on in a way you didn’t think possible, in a way where he’s never touched you, but you need him all at once. He’s softening the both of you.

It’s the middle of the hottest August of your entire life, but you’ve never felt warmer than right now.

“I’m sorry, was that weird? I jus’ like to hear you talk an–” Fuck he’s so nervous. Why is he so nervous? You want him loose and pliant again, like he was on the couch. 

“You should kiss me,” you blurt out. 

It’s funny how this is not the most insane thing you’ve suggested. The first crazy thing you suggested was “helping” him out with his boner when you went to his house on father’s day. 

Still, Joel is surprised. 

“You think so? I jus’ ate, I probably taste like food,” he says it like it’s an excuse.

You shift your body so you can face him better, chin tilted up so you can see his face. He’s not blushing, but he does seem surprised. This is much different than the embarrassed girl he walked home not even a week ago.

“Joel, I’m sure. I just– I don’t know, I’m sorry,” you bumble out.

He’s shaking his head, eyebrows pinched in that stupid way that makes his eyes look like a baby animals. 

“No, no, baby, it’s alright I’m just gross from work and I…” He drops eye contact with you. 

“I don’t want you to think that all I want from you is physical. You’re beautiful in a lot more ways than that.”

Fuck this guy, seriously. He’s so nervous, and clearly still thinks he’s fumbling this. Your bones are still vibrating, you’re so close to jumping out of your skin and into his. 

“Joel you’re incredible too, but I just really need you to kiss me,” you breathe. 

He seems to get it then. You clearly have deeper feelings, but after so long apart, and that disaster with his family, you’re pent up. Joel knows he’s kept you waiting long enough.

His first kiss is hesitant, just a small one that ends in a mumbled apology.

“S’been awhile,” he excuses before going back in.

And from there, it escalates. He’s controlled in his kisses, and seems to be avoiding tongue kissing you. Joel’s hesitancy from eating earlier is there, and you appreciate the courtesy. He makes it up though, when you push him further back on the couch and slide into his lap, arms looped around his neck.

Kisses are dotted from your lips, down your chin, and to the soft skin of your neck, where his mouth nips and kisses gently. Your hands are in his hair as you roll your head back, wanting to allow him however much space he needs to kiss you. There’s no hesitancy for either of you to be quiet, with him groaning as he smothers your neck in kisses, and you whining as he finds your sensitive points. 

It only takes a few ruts of your hips against his for him to be asking you if you want to go upstairs. He’s out of breath beneath you, cheeks flushed, and you can feel how hard he’s gotten.

“Y-yeah, my room,” you agree weakly, sliding off his lap.

Joel can barely keep his hands off you as you scamper up the stairs, grasping at your thighs and laughing softly when you squeak. 

It feels so juvenile, the way he grabs for you as soon as you enter your room. His lips are back on yours even as you try to tug up his shirt and he shakes his head slightly. 

“You first, I have a lot to make up for,” he mumbles, nodding his head towards the bed.

He undresses you once you’ve laid down, with eyes that drag over you in awe and pure attraction. Joel doesn’t mind your plain cotton undies, or the hairs that poke out the front. It’s sweet and homelike, it’s normal. 

He kisses where your hip bone is, murmuring into the fabric that covers it. 

“I really want to eat you out, beautiful. Is that okay with you?”

For the first time in this entire evening, his voice seems to sober you rather than intoxicate you more. Your lungs finally catch up with the rest of you, and you can breathe enough to get some actual oxygen into your brain, so you can think.

Obviously the answer should be yes, but you don’t feel totally comfortable with that yet. You’re not someone who prefers to be shaven, it’s inconvenient, but your bush is a little much even for you right now. On top of that, you’ve been sweating like crazy all day, so you don’t even wanna know what it’s like down there. And if you don’t wanna know what it’s like, then you don’t want Joel to know what it’s like, even if he really wants to.

So you shake your head.

Perfect boy he is, Joel nods and says “that’s alright, baby, thank you for bein’ honest,” as he slides back up your body after placing one more kiss on your hip bone. 

You are okay with him lifting your shirt off, and then unclipping your bra. He palms at your breasts lovingly, kissing them all over and lapping at your nipples. All of his touches are so gentle, but stupidly impactful. He seems to know that you don’t want this to be rough, that you enjoy his sweetness. He’s understanding you without even trying, and it feels like you’re being loved for the first time.

Joel is being careful in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re being overdramatic, or fragile. He’s watching your movements so he can do this right, but at the same time you’re getting impatient.

“Joel,” you pant as he sucks your nipple back into his mouth, “Joel, take your clothes off, please?”

He’s stupidly excited as he scrambles off your bed, tugging his jeans down and almost getting caught in his shirt when he pulls it off wrong. Joel touches his boxers and then looks at you with questioning eyes. This is where he hesitates.

“We can turn the lights off,” you offer gently. 

You remember his hesitancy on the couch, how he didn’t want you to look at him, to see him. It doesn’t matter if it’s dark in your room when this happens, so long as it’s him in the bed with you.

Joel turns and shuts the lights off, plunging the room into darkness for a moment before your eyes adjust. In another moment, you feel him on top of you again, his warm skin touching yours. It’s very lucky you cracked your window open earlier, so now your bedroom has become a manageable temperature. 

He’s comfortable on top of you, with his plush tummy pressing against the softness of your own. Your legs tangle as you struggle to strip your undies off, and you give up when they get caught around your ankle. His nose is pressed to your cheek as he just hovers above you for a second. 

“I know I said this earlier, but it really has been a long time,” he admits quietly. 

It shouldn’t warm your heart the way it does, but the idea of him not sharing himself with anyone for so long until you… it’s special. 

“That’s okay. Are you okay?” You ask.

He nods, from what you can feel, and then pulls back onto his knees. Joel isn’t totally visible in the light of your room, but he’s still gorgeous from what you can tell. The pouch of his tummy is so cute, so real, and you hope that you can bite it one day.

“I’m just going to prep you a little, is that okay darlin?” Joel says carefully, trailing a hand down your thigh.

Maybe from the outside this looks like two awkward people having sex, or maybe even like you don’t want each other at all. It sounds like there’s so much hesitancy in the room, but it’s not like that. The two of you are just reassuring one another, Joel to you because he was gone for so long, and you to him because it’s been so long for him. 

So it isn’t awkward, when he plunges his finger into you. He starts with one, gentle as ever, and works up to three very slowly. Joel leans down to your cheek and murmurs the nicest things to you, telling you how nice you feel, thanking you for being so kind to him.

“So patient with me, baby. Don’t know why you are, but it’s so kind,” he says quietly as he curls his fingers in you. They feel so much bigger than your own, but they fit fine. Fuller than you’re used to, but fulfilled in a new way. The feeling chokes your breath and all you can do is whimper softly at him, eyes wide.

“M’gonna be makin’ up my mistakes for a long time to you, an’ not just like this,” he promises, slowing his movements but making them more deliberate, a little harder. Nothing is burning like it usually does, there’s no sting of pain, it’s just a melting pot of pleasure between your legs as he gives himself to you and you to him. 

“Is that okay with you? Is it okay if I wanna make this up to you for a long time?” Joel asks.

You know what he’s asking. You know you want it too, you know you haven’t felt this wanted since you moved to Texas, probably even before. Nothing has felt like this in your life, and he’s requesting you to have it. 

“Yes, yes, Joel, that’s okay with me,” you say.

He leans down and kisses you once, then lets you scoot up and over on the bed so you can fumble in your drawer for the lube. Your hand passes over a silicone toy in your bedside table and you smile at the fact that it will soon be long abandoned as you pass the lube to him.

“Might be cold,” Joel warns before pouring some onto his fingers and applying it to you.

Then, he applies some to himself and settles comfortably between your legs. He drags the head of his cock over your hole and up to your clit, like a teasing warning. He had felt big in your palm before, but he feels even bigger now. He was right to prep you.

Finally, he notches himself and slowly pushes in, letting your locked ankles on his lower back guide the speed at which he slides in. Joel is breathing really heavily, and when he finally feels his pelvis meet yours, he collapses down onto his elbows.

“Fuck,” he cusses.

It feels better than you thought it would. He’s big, but not so much that you want him to pull back a little. You physically feel as comfortable and fulfilled as he makes you feel emotionally.

“So good, oh my god–” you sigh softly, hands reaching up and catching his curls in your fingers. You drag him down, your beautiful boy, and kiss him gently. 

But he isn’t moving. You can feel his thighs shaking and how he’s still breathing heavily.

“Hey,” you start softly after pulling back from the kiss, but he shakes his head.

“If I move I think–  I think I’m gonna come,” he sputters out embarrassedly.

Oh. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry baby. You’re just so fucking pretty and it’s been so long and you feel so goddamn good, I don’t know, I can’t move.” 

His nose is near enough to yours that you can brush them together, nuzzling the side of his face.

“Joel it’s okay, I’m not going to be upset,” you tell him. It’s oddly sweet for him to have such an overwhelming reaction to you. 

“No, I know that I just… I really wanna make you come. I wanna feel it," he admits.

And so you wait. Your unending patience seems to extend to him again in this moment and you lay there kissing him until he can finally begin to move at an even pace. 

It’s so worth it.

Joel is so loving as he fucks you, with deep thrusts as he groans and bites at your neck tenderly. His hands come up and palm your breasts, rolling his thumbs over his nipples as he tells you how pretty you are, how grateful and sorry he is.

He apologizes a lot. For the party, for his distance, for how stupid he was to not see how beautiful you were from the day you moved in next door. He’s noisy and apologetic as he keeps a stable pace as he fucks you into your mattress. 

Your mind is entirely fucked for him. You’re whimpering and mewling beneath him, babbling “it’s okay,” and “i forgive you,” everytime he says he’s sorry. Why is he even sorry anymore? Can’t he tell how much you love this? 

The more he talks the closer you get, your body clenching around him as he buries himself deep repeatedly. The stable pace he set should ground you, should keep your head on your shoulders, but it’s actually making it worse. You don’t need it any faster or harder than he’s giving it to you, not with how noisy he is, and how attentive his hands are.

“Do you forgive me?” he rumbles into your ear, dropped on one elbow as his other hand is reached down and gently rubbing your clit. 

You nod desperately, accidentally knocking your head into his. It makes him laugh, asking “yeah?” as he continues to pin his hips into your own. 

“I forgive you, Joel, I swear,” you choke out weakly. 

“Then will you come for me, honey? Please?” he asks.

It’s maybe the dirtiest thing he’s said all night, or maybe it just feels like it in the heat of the moment, but it sends you over the edge right away. You spasm around him and claw at his broad back, gasping for air and squeaking out noises you haven’t made before. Tears prick at your eyes as he works you through it with his fingers and cock.

“Fuck, yeah, there you are baby, that’s a good girl. God– Can I come? Is that okay?” Joel asks once you start to come down. You’re still in your head enough to nod, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips. 

It doesn’t take long at all, you’re surprised he was able to last as long as he did with everything considered. Joel takes less than a minute before he’s pulling out and letting out deep grunts and breaths as he comes on your tummy, looking down at you with adoring eyes. 

“Thank you, thank you baby, God.” He huffs out as he catches his breath. He’s kneeling between your legs with his chest puffing. 

He continues thanking you as he cleans you up with a washcloth. You had to guide him to it by yelling instructions as he walked on shaky legs to your linen closet, not wanting to spill his mess everywhere. 

Once you’re finally cleaned up, he nestles into bed with you. Your head lays on his still clammy shoulder as he tucks you beneath his arm and presses kisses to your hairline.

“M’so grateful for you, darlin’, I hope you know that,” he mumbles to you. 

You tell him that you know, that he just proved it to you, and he laughs. The noise is so warm in your room, like it was meant to be there.

“Okay, that’s fair, but if you need anything else,” he tells you.

A thought does pop into your mind, but it doesn’t seem totally appropriate. You’re enjoying this peaceful moment with Joel, in your quiet room. His hand is tapping its fingers on your stomach, squeezing the flesh once or twice.

You decide not to say anything, but your tummy does. She growls loud and proud, forcing an embarrassed blush onto your face.

“Um… I think I’m kinda hungry,” you admit.

—

That’s how you and Joel end the night, in the kitchen.

You’re sitting on your countertop while he leans against it about a foot away. The paper plate that Ellie loaded up with cake is sat between the two of you, and your forks steal big lumps out of it.

Joel has frosting in his moustache, but it looks so cute there that you don’t have the heart to tell him. Instead, you just lean over and kiss him. 

“N’ what was that for?” He asks through a mouthful of cake.

You just giggle and shrug, admiring him. 

“I just like you,” you tell him.

He looks like he might roll his eyes, but instead he steps closer to you and kisses you on the cheek. You can feel the residue of the frosting on your skin.

“Yeah, I think I like you too, baby.” 

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