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soulwillower · 5 months

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twin suns ; striding behind you

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part four of the Twin Suns series ; prologue ; part i ; part ii ; part iii

pairing: au (canon-divergent), western-inspired Din Djarin x fem!bounty!reader (afab, w use of woman, girl, etc) rating: eventually explicit. slow slow burn. (18+. mdni.)

warnings: canon-typical violence, allusions to past abuse, fear, descriptions of reader's injuries (there are a lot of them), dehydration and hunger (mention of eating), temporary blindness still, mean!Mando but also soft!Mando???, insecure reader (scars, etc), allusions to past assault and past SA(nondescript), brief mentions of trauma, slightly possessive themes, partial nudity, hints of a size kink. reader hates men <3.

synopsis: “'aren't you used to danger, bounty hunter?' you spit, indignance sprouting from the rotting seed of your fear. his back is turned, but you still hear him. 'not the kind of danger that you are.'"

word count: 6.7k!

notes: im back from the graveyard to post this next part! my Din brainrot is returning and ive been finding time between my two jobs to write more :) pls lmk if you like this installation! yay things are kind of picking up now wahoo

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every step forward draws a heated exhale from your marred lips.

the harsh desert winds carry whispers of sand across the vast expanse of Tatooine as the hunter leads you towards the distant silhouette of Boba Fett's palace; it stands menacing as you squint against the faintness of your sight.

your throat aches, your head pounds - each step, a creaking of your aching, dehydrated bones. the dunes you don't have to see to understand - they stretch endlessly, a canvas of muted browns and grays beneath the suns that reflect rays sharper than needles.

'the journey is long, and the desert does not forgive hesitation.'

you grit your teeth, silently agreeing with the strange Rodian who had beckoned you towards the Diamyo's palace. it feels like your body is failing you under the intense heat; how the Mandalorian can stand it in so many layers is beyond you. but in your bitter moment of self-pity, you lose sight of the mounds of uneven terrain that billow below your boots, the heat beating down on your head so hard your eyes almost shut unwillingly as your feet meet resistance.

without warning, you find yourself falling forward - a billow of pain shoots through your wrist as your palms meet the abrasive sand.

your head pounds, dehydration and hunger taking its ravaging toll on you as you land. a soft gasp escapes your lips as the ground kisses you harshly, unforgivingly; a strike of panic over you as your twisted, marred hands are once again slammed against the weight of your body joined by the Hunter's binders.

you're delirious - fear grips you in a way nothing ever has in your dehydrated state. a screaming ache in your throat and the throbbing in your skull coaxes your lips into the next sentence, your voice hoarse and scratchy. "if I could just have some water, please-"

the footsteps in front of you halt in an almost menacing manner - wind echoes dauntingly in your ears as you brace for the expected harshness of a beskar-laden hand, your body tensing and ready for the impact of his hand.

all of the hunters reach their limit with you - he'd made it this far, without laying his hands on you; but they all do, at one point or another. you can only hope it doesn't go further.

his voice from days ago echo in your mind. there are far worse people in the galaxy that could have gotten to you.

"s-sorry." you stutter, pulling yourself to your knees and holding your marred hands out to protect your face should he lash out.

you yourself are surprised by the very real fear that is dousing your twisted spine in a wash of ice - but the Mandalorian is already furious by the interruption of returning you for bounty twice; one more step out of line like this and he may just kill you himself.

you really are delirious. you think, perhaps, you've been too outlandish in your capture. he's not the kind that will break by your snide comments or sly ploys for escape. perhaps submission - you grit your teeth at the mere thought, like a wild stallion bucking in fear of a stable - is the sole way for you to survive.

to escape.

there's a pause in the air, a moment of suspended anticipation - one in which you shield your face from him further for fear. yet the expected rebuke, the cold demand for resilience, does not materialize, and instead you bathe in a hot, heavy silence that sparks just enough fight in you to try again.

you slump back on your haunches, eyes shutting as you swallow through sandpaper. "I need water. just a sip, sir, please-"

"-stop." he orders suddenly, voice surprisingly strained and harsh. your eyes open and you're met with a burning glare, his armor deflecting the immediate rays as he stands over you and observes - a weak being, cuffed and on her knees to beg for water.

your heart thunders wildly as he pulls a moleskin pouch from the depths of his cape and holds it out for you. "-and call me Mando." he orders, voice still strange. nodding, your hands shoot up to grab at it, your throat singing and dust catching in the crooks of your eyes as you let out a sigh of thanks, a slight whimper that almost loses itself to the commotion of your shaking fingertips.

the pouch falls to the sand between your knees as you let out a breath of disbelief - in your weakness, you'd fumbled it. "I'm sorry, I-"

"-it's okay." he says quickly, a gloved hand raising the pouch from the dust to hold up to your lips. the uncomfortableness of his voice is forgotten instantly as the liquid breaches your open lips.

the water is - by contrast to everything else around you - so pure and clean that you almost start to cry.

it trickles into your dry mouth and you greedily suck it down your esophagus, hands rising to cup the back of the pack and tilt it slightly, wary not to squeeze and take the whole of its contents.

the breath you take after several gulps of water is like waking up in a meadow of fresh fruits, flowers, a cold pond at your fingertips. you let out a shaky laugh, swallowing another sip offered to you by your captor. "thanks." you say, resigning to the realization that the only way he reacted was when you were desperate - on the verge of collapsing.

disdain coils in you.

slowly, you feel strong gloved hands encircle your shoulders, guiding you back to a standing position. the Mandalorian's touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the ruthless reputation that preceded him - a stark contrast to the experience of the last days in captivity.

you're once again left with the bitter confusion of a rug being pulled from beneath you as the hunter pulls a few pieces of jerky from his utility belt, holding them out tersely.

your hands dart out to grab them quick as the lizards that skitter into their hideaways when your bootsteps near. you stay like that, eating the jerky like a rabid animal and taking a few sips of water that the Hunter offers you intermittently, avoiding the unyielding armor that can't mask the underlying patience in the Mandalorian's actions.

a few minutes of terse silence and your stomach less nauseated, the Mandalorian starts suddenly, making you jump back in habit. he doesn't strike you; instead, he removes the thick cowl off his own neck and reaches towards you.

he must see your confusion, apprehension - because he stops, sighing. "you need to cover these wounds up. the exposed sun is not good for them. we will get them mended at the palace." he explains, voice evenly as he starts to lay the thick fabric over your conjoined wrists, wrapping so your skin is no longer exposed.

you don't know what to say - but he gives you no time to think as he turns and starts off towards the palace in the distance once again. you follow him in shock, blinking down at the faint outlines of your arms, mimicking his stride though in much shorter steps.

as you trudge behind him, protected from direct sunlight through his bulking, massive frame, you grin bitterly - you've become the man's own shadow this time, striding behind him in the light of the afternoon.

the rest of the trek is plagued with silence. you'd expected cruelty, a reinforcement of a status as a captive - but instead, there was a curious patience, an unexpected kindness that left you questioning the man who strides in front of you, helmet occasionally craning to his right to check on the floating pod containing the child that floats by his hip.

he should be furious. you're nothing more than a burden - the sudden moment of patience a shock from the cold exterior that has you staring in disbelief at your boots. what had changed? the answer eludes you as you follow him, disoriented in more ways than one. The Mandalorian's actions, or lack thereof, became a puzzle; you can't see the expression on his face, but the absence of anger resonates through the silence between you.

until he decides to slow his pace, turning his helmet to the right. "it wasn't my intention to starve you." he says, voice stoic and almost awkward. "I often forget that others do not eat when they are concealed."

he looks away. "if it happens again, remind me."

you swallow, lifting your head. an odd request. you'd seen glimpses of this bizarre kindness within him - gently stroking the child's ear, bringing you in to his ship after the wreckage and ensuring you stayed upright and didn't let the blood swell in your brain. letting you rest in his cot.

most of these things, means to your end.

perhaps it's this moment that gives you the clarity to vie for an ounce of freedom.

"uncuff me." you say, voice sounding much less meek now that life has been breathed back into your sore lungs. if he has any emotions, your blindness renders you too incapacitated to notice them. he doesn't stop his stride, but he does turn his head.

"no." he says it as if you're stupid.

you sigh, straining to push your shorter legs faster in order to catch up to him and the floating pod. you're not fully discouraged, despite his demeanor. "you know I'm too weak to do anything." you insist. "it'll do you good to uncuff me before we see the Diamyo." you warn, straightening your spine as he turns slightly, pace slowing until you're just a step behind him, still pushing to keep up.

"is that so?" he asks, sounding completely uninterested. your innards churn at his tone, your tongue running over your teeth before you nod. "I show no risk anymore. he'll find me if you don't find me first." and it's the honest truth.

silence for a moment.

"you're danger." he utters, as if the two words explain it all. you sneer at him behind his back. "aren't you used to danger, bounty hunter?" you spit, the indignance growing once again, sprouting from the rotting seed of your weakened fear only minutes ago.

his back is turned, but you still hear it. "not the kind of danger that you are."

you stare at the faint shadow of him, unsure of what to say. it's silent, the shifting sands beneath your feet echoing the enigma of your chains, the impending danger that awaits you once the Hunter has returned you for the bounty.

now on slightly more steady legs, you can't help but wonder what kind of man lurks behind the unyielding armor—a question that remains unanswered as the walls of the palace rise through the dune sea.

you reach the impending building as the suns cast your shadow and the Mandalorian's far behind you.

your footsteps echo through the halls of the palace, your body cooling slowly. The Mandalorian pushes past the droids who tried to guide you; he makes turns and walks down the stairs with too much confidence.

with an inkling of trepidation in your heart, you feel as though he's been here before - it does not bode well for you.

as you stumble after him, the burns upon your skin ache slightly and you fight to see with the dim lighting.

but soon, you're walking into a great space, the air of which you can feel upon your beaten shoulders as you let your arms, still swathed by the Hunter's cloak, fall to clasp against your restraints.

there's a large platform of slabbed cement before you in the faint light that leaks through cracks of the shades on the opposite of the throne room.

two figures shrouded in the darkness of your blind vision watch you and your captor enter. the one on the throne is bulky - bulkier than you remember the cloaked figure of Boba Fett to be, though as your gaze flickers to the more feminine figure perched on the arm of the throne, you know this is not him either.

your footsteps fall silent in front of them, and soon a droid is announcing the Diamyo of Mos Espa, Boba Fett.

you blink heavily - as if this would wipe the mugginess of your vision as the figure sits forward slightly and your heart drops.

the man in front of you, Boba Fett - fully clad in beskar armor and a helmet so similar to your captor's that you nearly consider turning and running.

you try to mask your shock. Fett's Mandalorian? confusion and fear shock up your spine.

panic strikes heavy in your heart as you and the Hunter stand completely silent and still, your heart thrashing frantically. Boba Fett - in Mandalorian armor... confusion must lace your features, because hands faintly rise up from the shadow of the Daimyo, and a moment later he removes his helmet with a soft hiss.

you suck in a breath as the scarred, familiar face comes into view just barely under the lighting and you're almost certain that his eyes land on you.

"it's been a while." he says.

his voice is the same as you remember, and the fear stuck in your throat quells only slightly at his greeting.

"yes." you agree, jumping in shock when the low, deep voice of the Hunter speaks at the same time as you - "it has."

bewildered, you shoot a sideways glance to the Mandalorian beside you.

your inkling was correct, Mando must know Boba Fett too.

you swallow shakily, knowing how terribly this seals your fate - of course they know each other. apparently, Boba Fett is a Mandalorian now - for all you know, they could have been raised together.

but the Hunter's helmet has shot a similarly shocked glance towards you and for a brief moment, you stare into the t-visor of your captor.

in a bout of fear and anger you turn, meeting the gaze of the man who had once been your savior. from what you can make out, the years had carved lines on his face more than when you'd last seen him, and you faintly wonder how different you look to him.

you had been, after all, just a child back then.

you speak again, a mixture of nerves and trepidation in your voice. "sir. I didn't think I'd see you again. even when I came on-planet."

Boba Fett's head inclined slightly, a nod that spoke of the gravity of the situation. "times change. I wouldn't have summoned you here if it weren't necessary."

you're sure your eyes held for a moment, the unspoken understanding passing between you. it had been a long time.

the Mandalorian crosses his arms from beside you. "what business do you have with us?" the hunter speaks up, clearly tired of the stiff small talk. "do you want the puck?"

this had been your fear, too. Fett could have easily summoned you to the palace to buy your bounty from the Mandalorian; he has good enough reason to buy you to his custody.

yet at the Hunter's words, you swear you see a twinge of confusion from the two: Fett shifts, as does the figure to his side - a silhouette which, with the grace of her helmet sitting below them in a ray of bright light, you finally recognize as the sharpshooter Fennec Shand. you'd heard of her in town during your time on the run.

"I have favors to call in." he says simply. your heart pounds twice as heavy at the mention of the favors- yes, he does. he is owed a lifetime of favors from you.

but the hunter is not so swayed.

"call them in later. I have problems to attend to." he sounds impatient, voice laced with the strain of a time crunch.

Boba stares at him, leaning elbows on his thickly armored thighs. "you and your lady friend here," he nods towards you sardonically, "are in a bind, am I correct?"

you gape in offense at his casual tone, addressing you as anything other than a captive - irritation floods your face but is soon replaced with a strike of fear fluttering down your spine, worried of the Hunter's reaction to such vocabulary.

"I don't play games with my bounties." his voice sounds equally irritated as you feel. it's final - deep as it exits his helmet. your stomach flips.

you almost snap back - that's a lie, Mando. you and I both know it - but, for fear of speaking out of turn, and for fear of the man before you, you stay silent.

"bounty?" the silhouette sits forward and a plaited length of dark hair swings into your faint vision.

the room is suddenly plagued with a pregnant silence that you don't dare break, your mind churning.

did they not know of the situation you've found yourself in?

"she has a bounty on her head." the hunter says finally, as if surprised that they were not privy to this information. you shift on your feet, your head still pounding, eyes sore from straining to see in such dim light. your whole body aches.

"she may be a bit worse for wear, but she doesn't look like a prisoner to me." Shand retorts, nodding to your figure.

at the woman's words, you huff a bitter laugh. worse for wear - you'd be surprised if you have more bones intact than dislocated right now - you're blind, you have a nasty hydraulic burn on your cheek..

you shake the cowl off your arms, revealing the cuffs which bound you as the fabric drops to a heap at your boots. you barely glance down at them before back up as Fett lets out a low hum. both heads upon the throne shift to the man beside you.

"you have nerve, Mando, bringing a bounty into my palace," Boba Fett remarked, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence. to your shock, Mando inclines his helmeted head in a nod. "she's more trouble than she's worth." you instinctively shoot Mando a withering look but before you can defend yourself, he continues. "when you summoned us, I assumed it was to pay her bounty."

Fennec Shand - ever observant - leans forward slightly, her sharp eyes finding yours somehow through the mist. she seems more interested in you than in the talk of the Daimyo's business.

"last we heard of you, you were supposedly walking free. stirring trouble." she tilts her head, revealing her eyes in a panel of light. the insinuation makes you chuckle bitterly. defiantly, you stare back. "then your people in town got it wrong. I was never free. I've been a captive since I set foot on this planet, even before him."

Fennec raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Boba that even you don't miss. "our messenger mentioned he saw her just a few days ago with your speeder," Fennec remarks, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism as she focuses on Mando this time. "that doesn't sound like a well retained bounty."

you stifle a laugh at that, craning your head away from Mando to conceal your smirk as a feeling of triumph fleetingly passes over your body. you recall the anger that'd seeped through the Mandalorian when you'd tricked him, taken his speeder - then, found the child...

"ma'am, to be fair, it took him a long time to find me. I can be very slippery when I want to be." you say coyly, highly aware of the cold stare from beside you.

"-after all, the line between lawmen and the outlawed can be deceiving." you send a pointed look towards the wall of beskar on your side.

a sharp silence through the room; tension thick in the air as a strike of fear gloats among your abdomen. what kind of pendulum swing is your attitude on recently?

"Mando." Boba addresses the man, causing the aforementioned to nod, shifting his weight. the throbbing of your head is gradually increasing once again and you find yourself in desperate need of a sip of water, and maybe a few hours of rest.

"I didn't expect to have to cash in on the favors owed to me, but times have changed." he shrugs, "I hear the Crest's seen better days. I can help with the ship. in return, clean slate. functional vessel. and no more pirates."

in a swift moment of realization, your eyes widen. you aren't the only one with favors owed to Boba - this was about you and Mando, separately. he truly had no idea you were his bounty.

your surprise is short lived as he continues speaking, the pirates echoing in your mind. your eyes flicker at the mention and you can't help but shoot a glance sidelong at your captor, once again unable to read his helmet. uncertainty swirls in your gut; the Maracavanians are more than just one ship, and you know they will likely stop for very little to find you.

you are, after all, very valuable to them. the looming threat of their presence haunts you, bearing weight on your tired shoulders. your head pounds.

"-in return," Boba Fett continued, "I need your skills - both of you. when I sent for you, I was not aware of the bounty on your head, nor the hand that held the tracker. there's a settlement on the edge of the Outer Rim. they've found some trouble with some smugglers calling themselves the Ivory Cartel; they're pushing the spice trade back into the area, and the Marshall needs help bringing them back in line."

Din's helmet tilted slightly. "I don't do charity."

Boba Fett chuckles, the sound reverberating in the room as you shift on your feet. "we've been through this song and dance before, haven't we?"

the Mandalorian crosses his arms, but says nothing.

Boba continues, "I hear you're intimately familiar with the area, Mando. Freetown."

the irony of the settlement name is not lost on you, and you can't help the scoff you let out as you cross your arms. you hear the short exhale that escapes the helmet the same time as you, but cannot decipher what it means.

"Marshall Vanth mentioned you know each other." silence spurs him on, "only a few days, then you can turn her in. I'll ensure you have safe passage - no one coming after you. we'll consider it a debt paid in full."

you expected this; for as long as you've known the man before you on the throne, you wouldn't exactly say he is your biggest ally; in fact, part of him would surely love to see you rot in a cell. and you can't blame him.

yet this seems like some sort of mercy - for him to not just take your bounty off of Mando's hands and immediately turn you in to the several other vying parties. indeed, that would benefit him well, and it'd likely satisfy the Mandalorian. they'd be rich beyond what they could imagine if they turned you in to the Maracavanya.

the thought itself makes you feel ill.

fear of your fate should you fall into the captivity of the Maracavanians grips you, far more deadly than when you will be taken by Mando to whoever casted your puck.

this fear, gripping your skull and breathing its evil thoughts into your mind, drives you to step forward slightly. "and what guarantee do we have that you'll uphold your end of the deal?"

the visor next to you stares in surprise at your words and you hold your gaze forward, steadfast. to an outsider, you imagine it is odd for a bounty to agree to be turned in after such desperation to escape; though knowing Fett as you once did - and after what you did back then - what the Macaravanya would do to you if you were their captive... you shiver, fear gripping your throat.

your life is owed to the man before you, no matter what your past says. and if your life is to end soon - and it very well may depending on who has cast your bounty - you'd like to have paid most of your debts out by the end.

Boba Fett's gaze shifts to you through the dim of your vision. "my word is my bond. you of all people should do well to remember this."

your face burns, chin dropping to your chest. the Mandalorian remains silent for a moment, contemplating the proposition - after all, you're his captive, and you'll have to go with whatever he decides. the weight of the favors owed hang in the air, memories of a young girl stranded on a desolate planet with a pack wrapped around her middle, her brother stumbling behind her, men in all grey following with whooping sounds as they stumbled over tumbleweeds to get away. a cloaked figure and blinding pain-

finally, the Hunter nods, speaking and pulling you from your thoughts. "fine. we do the job, our debts are settled."

Boba Fett inclined his head, acknowledging the agreement. "you'll leave in the morning."

you send a meek nod to him, feeling once again faint, as though the strenuous walk has caught up to the rest of your body, which is still reeling from the water and jerky after so long without it.

you're escorted, after a brief hesitance by your captor, away from the group; with a grumble of irritation from the armored giant and a rough few pokes on his vambrace by gloved fingers, your bound wrists fell free, the skin marred and blistering.

fear flares up in your stomach as a droid brings you down several twisted hallways and staircases. what are they speaking of without you?

were they talking about you?

surely there isn't much the Mandalorian doesn't know about you, depending on how much of your information was on your bounty profile, but Fett knows many things about you others don't. a darkness coils through your veins, lingering in the back of your mind; a steady reminder to trust no one. no friends but tumbleweeds.

perhaps you had overestimated the reach of Tatooine's rumor mill. or, perhaps, you really were that good at hiding. and the Hunter was that good at hunting.

the thought doesn't make you feel any better.

you enter a room where the droid gestures to the large glass in the center of the room; your eyes widen, taking in the large bacta tank, inviting and horrifying the same.

on the other side of the room, a refresher awaits, and the droid instructs you to use what you need and it will provide you the bacta process to ensure you have a restful healing.

you stare, shocked, between the droid and the tank; things like these cost an unimaginable amount of credits. you bite your lip.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you start to flush, "I don't have enough credits, I-"

"nonsense," the droid speaks, its voice oddly comforting, maternal. "Master Fett has requested our guests are healed and take as much time as necessary. you will need your strength and health."

you blink, stomach flipping with nerves. "okay," you whisper, padding slowly across towards the fresher and sealing yourself inside.

your heart pounds, stress pulsing through you. it takes you forty-five seconds to even bring your eyes up to your reflection, your nails digging hard into your dusty, pained palms.

it's horrible. truly.

faintly, you wonder if it's just the residual blindness that makes you look so awful. maybe the shadows under your eyes aren't as prevalent in full vision - or the cuts and bruises that show evidence of the crash landing on your skin.

to be fair, you look still like yourself - same eyes, same skin, same scarf concealing most of your hair, save the sticky tendrils which glued themselves to your forehead and mouth on your trek. but your face; it's gaunt, absent of the life it used to have. your eyes look empty, your features splintered by a broken nose which holds a crusted bloody split across the center.

your cheekbone similarly has a cut that's swelled one eye socket, a bruise blossoming and singing of broken vessels of blood within your eye. your hands, as they rise to touch your aching face, are mangled and horrifying. dry, caked with dirt in the splits over your palm, your knuckles are sticking out in an unnatural pattern. the hydraulic burn you'd sustained on your cheek is raw and angry still, exposure to the suns making it rough and bloodied.

fuck, you will need this bacta is you're to help pay off your debt. you can't help the inkling of curiosity as to what it is that the Mandalorian owes Fett for - he doesn't seem the type to run off for secondary missions when he has his bounties. especially, you think with a smirk, bounties as irritating and conniving as you've been.

it is extremely odd, this new situation.

you're sure this has not once happened to the Mandalorian before, judging by his reaction: obligated to work alongside one of his bounties - who has willingly agreed - in order to earn ship repair to turn her in.

you squeeze your eyes shut, bewildered by the complexity of the situation; you're overcome once again with the urge to run, run, run.

run.

you snap your eyes open, staring into the mirror again.

your body screams of exhaustion, lack of sleep, hunger, pain. a surge of sadness floods over you at the realization that you've looked like this far before crossing paths with the Mandalorian.

this cycle is nothing new. it may be the oldest thing in the book.

in fact, considering how the last few stints went with other hunters went - horrifyingly, though you always ended up the one holding the smoldering blaster - the Mandalorian has been uncharacteristically considerate.

so unimbued by your teasing. irritated constantly, serious - but admirably capable. dangerous. your eyes again find the ugly scar that cuts jaggedly across your cheek, towards your jaw. it was an injury done to you just to do so, by the last hunter who tried to take you. he'd done worse afterwards; all the injuries will last with you forever.

cruelty for the sake of it.

despite who he is, you can't find it in yourself to believe your current captor would ever do such a thing.

imposing, intimidating, gruff - yes, but he never threatened you more than empty words; even though you know how easily he could snap your arm (or neck). he didn't seem to want to inflict pain.

you think of his little green companion, with its kind eyes and soft babbles. the way he runs his gloved fingers over the wiry hair atop its head, soothing its ears.

then, when he'd left you alone on his ship; sure, it was wrecked and you were in the middle of nowhere, but he'd still left you. given you privacy.

you glare at the ground - no.

the memory of his hand slamming against the carbonite freezer echoes in your mind, your words - "you're a bad man." you whisper mirthlessly. "I don't deserve this."

no man is kind. no bounty hunter is fair.

with a growl of irritation, you slide the door open, peering out into the room before you. it's quiet, the afternoon sun streaming through the curtains of the open stone windows, flickering over the tank in the center. a set of towels your size sit next to the tank. the droid is gently preparing tubes and a small breathing mechanism as the bacta moves in the glass.

the liquid, viscous and beckoning you like a mirage in the dead heat of the plains outside.

you haven't been in water in months - years, maybe. sonic showers got the job done, removed dirt and grime and oil, but you haven't felt really clean in so long it almost brings tears to your eyes. before you can think again, your voice cracks out, shy and meek.

"I'm ready."

when you wake up, the suns are nearly setting.

your body glows a hue of orange from the dying light, dripping with the liquid you'd just emerged from. the droid towels you off and you note the sweet, small markings alongside her collar, small paintings of flowers.

it's because of this that you realize with a sharp inhale - "I can see!" you gasp, flexing your fingers instinctively and feeling a wash of freedom when no shooting pain or stiffness prevents the action.

you feel as though you've been reborn.

the droid pulls a chest band over your flush, healthy skin. nothing but pinking scars and a few light colored bruises. "how do you feel, ma'am?" she asks you. you smile at her just as she hands you a pair of underwear, folded tunic, and trousers. "I feel wonderful. thank you." you respond, tugging on the underwear.

you stare down at the dark gray color of your tunic, tilting your head- but before you can ask, the droid assures you your own clothes are being cleansed and repaired for you to have back.

you nod, feeling naked still without any concealment of your hair or face - it seems, after so long on the run, you've forgotten that the items were not sewn to your skin, a part of you.

the droid leaves you to collect yourself, telling you it will prepare you supper to eat in the palace hall. slowly, you let your joints stretch, taking in a deep, long breath for the first time in ages without feeling the stabbing pain of broken ribs.

gone are the dizzy spells, the fogginess that had plagued you since hitting your head.

with a small laugh of disbelief, you pull the tunic over your head with no pain - your hair drips down your spine as you comb through it, padding with a sudden shock of clear vision towards the mirror.

closing yourself halfway into the fresher, you stare at your reflection; a healthy glow on your cheeks, clean, a hint of a smile. you nearly tear up, feeling fresh, free from physical pain. there are no blisters or bruises from the binders.

with a smile, you take a step out of the bathroom in search of the trousers you'd left, discarded on table you'd woken from. you let yourself hum a short tune, something from your childhood that your brother had loved.

but a hulking figure across the room makes you stop short.

your eyes widen as a rush of shock floods through you.

to his credit, the Mandalorian looks just as caught off guard as you feel, if his body language is anything to tell.

he stands, alarmed, with one hand holding the trousers you'd left, one holding a removed blaster and his lasso. with a quick glance over to the tank, there is larger preparations, a large microfiber towel, much larger than the one used for you, folded next to it.

oh.

a beat passes.

then another. you start to feel warm, cheeks flaring in heat as your gaze flickers from the visor, cold and staring, down to the trousers in his hand. you are suddenly aware of your exposed skin.

"um," you say brilliantly.

but before you can say anything else equally as riveting, the droid rolls into the room and nearly shrieks. "oh, ma'am, I'm terribly sorry- thought you'd already gone downstairs-"

you swallow so thickly you're surprised you don't choke, the warm breeze in the dying evening sunlight sending cascades of goosebumps over your exposed legs. you ignore the rolling heat that tumbles down your body as the helmet moves ever so slightly down your frame. excitement sends the sensation even deeper - but you shake the thoughts away. that's an emotion you'll deal with probably never.

the Mandalorian snaps alive, taking two lumbering strides towards you, holding the trousers to you stiffly. "I assume these are yours." his voice sounds almost pained.

you swallow dryly, nodding, "y-yes." you squeak, feeling hot under his stare.

"-so sorry, sir, I apologize-" the droid was still panicking - you think it odd until you get a feeling Mandalorians wouldn't like even droids to see them without helmet. let alone, their annoying bounties who now have to work with them against a cartel in some forgettable dust town.

you wonder if the same goes for armor.

but he waves the droid off, "I can take it from here, thank you." his voice is terse; disdain leaking through the baritone.

you awkwardly take the moment to slide the trousers over your legs, bending quickly to save at least a bit of dignity as you do the clasps and zipper, eyes avoiding the tall statue before you.

the droid, still wailing apologies, wheels from the chamber, bathing the two of you in a strikingly thick air as you stare down at your boots. you watch as his own boots shift their weight just a few steps from you.

"you look..." he seems to lose his words as you look up at him, stomach flipping. "-healthy." his fingers twitch by his sides. you feel shockingly flustered as you clear your throat, "I need to take better care of myself." you joke, the words falling flat and sounding more pathetic than humorous in delivery, "just glad I can recognize myself again. well- I can see, too, which is even better." your voice squeaks as you trail off, butting off your anxious ramble.

he doesn't respond to that, but he does clear his own throat. "have you eaten?" he asks, voice strained. you clear your head, "no- no, that's where I was about to go..." you trail off, cheeks aflame as you look up at the helmet. he makes a noncommittal noise, turning away. "well, if you don't mind-"

you shake your head, "not at all." you say quickly, taking great strides towards the exit, not turning back as you scramble away.

the Mandalorian doesn't look at you the rest of the evening.

you can't tell if it's out of embarrassment, shame, or anger at the prospect of having to work with you; no matter, you're relieved at the absence of that piercing, emotionless stare.

you eat much too fast, due to the crawling hunger in your stomach, and have to later fight to keep it down; though the rest of the night is spent relaying plans for transportation and communication with Fett and Shand, you standing awkwardly in a corner and being referenced as the bounty by your captor.

you wonder if he can feel the glare you shoot at the back of his helmet.

by morning, you feel more refreshed than you have in years, despite your captivity. the more you think of it, and the more that clock ticks in the back of your mind, the more willing you are to stay on-planet, to waste time.

perhaps you could miss the trial all together, if nobody finds you first. you let yourself wonder, as you stand to the side and observe Mando strapping supplies to the back of the speeder, what would happen if you missed the trial.

surely, you'd still be wanted. an outlaw is an outlaw, no matter the date on the galactic calendar.

but would it be safer for you? depending on the verdict. there are plenty on both sides who would pay heavily to see your body buried in the Wasteland, no doubt.

"hey." Mando's voice is terse and vexed. your eyes snap up to meet the helmet, which glints harshly under the morning suns. "let's go." he orders, gesturing behind him where a space remains for you.

you think back to that first night; your desperate attempt at escape, feigning sleep and then sprinting off into the dark desert.

you slide onto the back, leaving as much space as possible between you and the Hunter, his jetpack hard against your chest. you opt to hold it instead of his torso as he kicks up the speeder, the child tucked into the bag at his hip.

"did you get enough to eat?" he asks, voice louder over the noise of the speeder. you swallow, unease leaking into you at the tone of his voice - it's alarmingly like the tone he used when he'd fed you back in the desert. like he was making sure you wouldn't have to nearly pass out again for him to remember to feed you.

it makes you wonder how often he eats or drinks himself.

it makes you wonder why you even care.

you nod, "I did."

he sends you a terse nod in response and as he starts to speed off, the wind whips over your scarf. you tie it under your jaw, the long bandana secured. heat finds you like an old, unwanted friend and you already feel tired; you rest your hot cheek against the metal of the beskar jetpack, hoping he cannot feel it. you're instantly cooled down, relief flooding through you.

the speeder hums beneath you, kicking up plumes of sand - your eyes, alight with the fresh relief of unfiltered sight, scan the horizon, taking in the harsh beauty of Tatooine's desolate expanse. rocky outcrops jutting from the sandy dunes, casting short shadows in the midday suns. the sky above is painted with hues of blue, a stark contrast to the unforgiving landscape below.

you steal another glance at the Mandalorian's back. thankfully, he has resumed his tense, stoic silence behind his helmet, his focus fixed on the path ahead. there's a quiet determination, a silent strength - the same one that had initially inclined you to play such luring games with your Hunter in the first place.

a determination that makes you want to do it again, despite everything.

you think of how naive you were just days ago - had you ever really expected to get away from him? or, the whole time, have you just been waiting for him to finally get to you?

the thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

hours pass on the speeder with intermittent stops to stretch your legs or sip water. the baby insists on babbling to you any chance he gets - an endearing sight, as he waddles over the mounds of sand to climb up onto your boot.

the gentle smile that graces your lips after asking permission silently from the Hunter to hold the little goblin.

the child's endless eyes stare up at you from the bag at the hunter's side when you're back on the speeder, and you supply him with a finger to hold on to.

you can't shake the whirlwind of confusion swirling within you - what had started as a fateful capture in the wake of your euphoric game had morphed into a nightmare capture, which has now evolved into a reluctant alliance - a ceasefire of sorts forged by circumstances beyond your control.

whatever Mando had for Boba to cash in on must have been just as serious as what he'd done for you - or, rather, what you'd done to him. regret and guilt snake through your veins, black and greedy and painful.

you stare down in regret, trying to map out a way to escape the clutches of the man before you as the lines between captor and collaborator blur in the shifting sands of fate.

you had been running for so long - elusive and cunning, the closest to free you'd been in years - until you got too egotistical. all those weeks ago, why did you have to taunt him so?

happy hunting, Mando.

you're a fool. a fated, heartless fool with too large an ego.

as the speeder surges onward, you lean back, letting the rush of the wind and the rhythmic hum of the engine drown your thoughts. the heat bears down on you.

in the distance, a bundle of buildings emerge, wavy through heat - at first, you thought it a mirage.

Freetown.

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#din djarin x reader #the mandolorian x reader #din djarin smut #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

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soulwillower · 8 months

Text

😽

Mr. Miller's Show

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 7.3k (back to regularly scheduled programming) requested: yes thank you all for all the patience srsly <3 summary: “'like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?'" warnings: gendered words (girl, woman, etc) allusions to PTSD, porn with feelings, guys theyre like getting healthier, SMUT (PiV unprotected), oral (M receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, face-fucking, shower smut, counter smut, reader is a tease, masturbation (f), marijuana use as always lol, brief voyeurism, canon-typical violence, age gap (undefined but mentioned), ass play (spitting, fingering, only a bit sorryyyy), mirror sex again bc im a whore, reader has hair long enough to grab, hair pulling, lots of choking, spit kink, light slapping (f receiving, consensual), dirty talk, praise kink but also degradation, use of words like slut, brat tamer!joel, overstimulation, MEAN!JOEL YALL, but he has feelings so he’s also kinda soft!dom in this again, once again sooo unedited that it hurts. notes: finally finally after over a month im back!! hope you enjoy this chapter, ive been having rough writers block with this story so any suggestions and requests are very welcomed!!! thanks for all the love and as always, comments & reblogs w tags are motivation and help out so much!!! love u all <3 also for the taglist, it's too big now and i may consider stopping my taglist, just letting everyone know!!! ill lyk if i do ofc but im reblogging with the list this time.

[this is part six of the Mr Miller series. read previous part sympathy for the devil. main masterlist here. ]

★

"you're wearing earrings."

Joel's voice cuts through the serene chill in the air, shocking you enough to have your head turning away from where you stare ahead - you crane your neck too much, but you can just see the dusted gray and dark of his curls behind you as your brows raise.

it takes you a second to understand the sentence he's just uttered to you out of nowhere- but you blink to life, clearing your throat as the dead trees pass you by.

"oh. yeah, it's... they're new. didn't really wear stuff like that until..." you shrug, trailing off as you stare forward yet again. your heart thumps as his chest rumbles against your back - jesus, he's so close to you. it's been weeks since he's been this close, even if this is just work.

your body wants what it wants, you suppose.

your lips purse, lost in the press of his thick body behind you.

"-till?"

your lip twitches in a smile for a split moment; he's waiting for you to finish your sentence. as if he cares.

Joel...

he's been so normal recently. or as normal as you could ever imagine Joel Miller to be; full sentence-conversations full of questions, full sentences, and even an occasional joke or dry line littered in with his glares and eye-rolls. he's even taught you and ellie to woodwork, nodded in hello when you picked up Ellie on your way into town - hell, he'd actually gotten a drink with you after patrol a few days ago and held eye contact for a whole thirty minutes.

a fucking miracle.

and even, on rare occasions, you are rewarded with that mind-splitting, earth-shattering smile - a very rare but rewarding sight. the kind that shocks a room, silences you and Ellie both, lights the sun and makes the birds sing. makes your stomach flutter.

so perhaps things have changed.

it makes you almost laugh to yourself, recalling that day so many moons ago when you had walked into the Bison and first stared into those stony eyes; how big his calloused hands were, the way his lip lifted in distaste at your crass words.

the sway of the horse makes your hips move gently; your ass is starting to feel sore at the constant motion and as you rock forward with the decline of the hill, you feel Joel's body slide slightly as though he tries against everything to press fully against you. even though you wish he would.

heat paints your face as you feel his breath on your neck, waiting patiently for you to finish your sentence.

your sharp breath exhales as you realize you've hesitated at his questioning, a bit too long - you smile sheepishly, shrugging. "-sorry, didn't..." you clear your throat, "couldn't remember the last time I wore earrings. not that it matters, but I just..." you thumb the makeshift earring back, grinning to the mane of the horse as he trudges you and Joel both along.

"-it feels nice. makes me feel like myself." you finish, shrugging awkwardly.

for all of the steps Joel has taken in the last few weeks to change, there are some things you still have a hard time with.

talking about yourselves and opening up is a very large, unmovable hurdle that you and him are still clearly trying to pull yourselves over. it's quiet for a second as your words seep into the dead surroundings, less than an hour from town.

"look nice." he grunts quietly, his arms pressing slightly from where he straddles the saddle behind your frame.

your eyes widen at the seemingly random compliment, face flooding with flattery and embarrassment. your grin betrays you, but you don't dare stutter out a broken thank you for fear that you will sound like a croaking frog; instead, you purse your lips over the giddy grin that spreads over your cheeks and hope that as he stares at the profile of your face, he can see the flattery written across your features.

"Ellie has a matching pair." you say instead, sparing a quick glance back at Joel. his brows raise, jaw ticking as he takes in the information - your voices both echo at the same time as you speak over each other suddenly:

"she doesn't have her ears pierced." "in case she ever gets them pierced."

you let out a short huff of laughter, nodding sheepishly at having accidentally interrupted each other; Joel shakes his head with a ghost of a smile.

"got it." he nods, "s'real nice of you." he nods, "making a pair for her, too."

his chest is right on you - broad, warm through all the layers, and smelling of pine, whiskey, sage. amber. it's intoxicating as his drawl rumbles in the back of your ear - you silently thank Tommy or whoever the hell it was who ordered half the horses to rest after a bout of sickness spread through the stable; sharing a horse has never once before today seemed like a good idea.

but the good idea sours quickly when you kick speed slightly, the horse leaping over a small creek as your hips shift back into Joel's and your ass presses into him.

your mouth dries as you shakily exhale; he's so close to you - smells so good. your hands grip the reigns tighter and you nearly jump when a large, calloused hand falls onto your hips to steady you after the change in pace.

your mind travels back to that morning after you'd stayed with Joel in his own bed - how gentle his hands had been as he'd guided you towards your own house under the early morning sunrise; your eyes bleary with sleep but his smile still cracking bashfully when you'd kissed his cheek, muttering about how maybe Ellie'd missed your boots by the front door when she'd come home.

she and Joel certainly haven't said anything you if she did notice, anyways.

you clear your throat, ignoring the searing desire that spirals from where his hand touches your clothed hip; you shrug, "she said she liked mine, so I figured we could match."

he hums lowly at your word, his nose brushing slightly over the crown of your head. shivers roll over your shoulders as you swallow, retreating into the silence that you've lived in for the last few weeks since the two of you were put back on patrol.

but you stiffen when a hand runs down your side, over the jagged stitching of your jacket, and you suck in a sharp inhale. his other hand slides forward, hooking gently around your hip, fingers splaying over the very top of your thigh and your throat dries up; a faint desire awakened and soon screaming at you. you squirm under his touch.

Joel's hips adjust behind you gently in the next second, your eyes fluttering shut as you imagine him pulling you into him, his hard cock sliding between the round globes of your ass and through your dripping folds, his hands greedy and hungry; his words sharp, teasing. his touch, sweet. intoxicating-

your eyes open again and your heart skips a beat, his knees hitting the outside of your thighs.

christ. your whole body tingles as you shift slightly, rotating your hips as the buck of the horse's cant tilts you further away from the heat of his broad chest. no, you can't stand his teasing - intentional or not, Joel is making you nearly melt in desire.

jesus.

you're barely pulling the horse to the side of the path when, with barely a crane of his neck, Joel mutters, "the hell are y'doin?"

you suddenly pull the reins and mutter woah, slipping yourself off of the horse and onto the hard ground with a burning face, your lungs screaming for air as Joel protests.

"what-" he grunts as he pulls himself down from the stirrups, face etched with irritation and concern at your sudden evacuation, "is there an issue?"

you can hear the irritation in his voice and you sigh, shaking your head - your heart's thundering, face hot and surely laced with poorly-hid embarrassment. god, what the fuck is wrong with you? there's barely forty minutes back to Jackson, why couldn't you just suck it up for a few more torturous minutes until you could return home to your trusty drawer and hot shower?

"no." you snap, "no problem, Joel." your heart is thundering with surprise at his concern, eyes glaring daggers at him before shooting down towards the heat that nearly blisters on your forearm; his hand, warm and gentle, asking silently if you're okay. your eyes soften before you can school your expression - he reads you, as always, like his favorite novel.

his hand falls away gently, grazing your finger tips like the gentlest breeze on your face and it still surprises you.

"alright," he says softly, eyes searching your flustered appearance. "can we get back on the horse, then?" he asks - his voice is surprisingly patient, though his eyes are wary. irritated, but concerned.

you clear your throat, unable to contain yourself much longer. "we could- take a break."

his brows raise, tilting his head, "a break? we're nearly back. s'almost nightfall."

you shift your weight, avoiding the way his corded arms cross over each other, his frame towering over yours as you dully throb in arousal.

"you're-" you squeak, shaking your head, "you're fucking crowding me, and I need- fuck-" you groan, "just- just fuck off for a second, Joel." you snap, bursting in frustration, unsure how to just admit you are being driven fucking crazy with lust by his presence.

his head tilts, "fuck off?" his eyes are darker every second you stand, facing each other- "the hell's gotten into you?" he sounds offended, and your heart flips as you feel bad - you're trying, you're trying so hard to be normal around him, as he is with you - so one touch, one innocent adjustment of his hips and now you're freaking out on him again?

you need to get a grip, or at least be honest.

your face burns as his stern gaze rolls over each curve of your body; "Joel, you're driving me fucking crazy." you snap, glaring at him.

he looks shocked, hands flying out, "I barely said anythin' this whole goddamn day, how the hell am I still fucking this up?" he snaps back, irritated - his eyes incredulous as he stares down at you.

flames lick up your sides as you grind your teeth - his hair looks much more wavy with his curls today, and the green of his jacket it making the golden on his skin nearly glow; you nearly growl as you jump towards him. he's too much. too fucking much.

your hands lock on his shoulders, tugging yourself up towards his face as your lips fall against his.

the kiss is a shock to you both.

you're not sure what really compelled you to do it - the stubble over his sharp jaw, his hair, the way his thighs pressed against the outsides of yours just minutes ago, the way he pressed on about the earrings - whatever, it doesn't matter, because he's kissing you back and you're melting like butter over a campfire.

his lips press hard back against yours through his shocked inhale, surging against you in a dizzying haze of Joel.

but the kiss is seared away from your lips when Joel suddenly shoots his thick hand out, rising to grip hard at your throat, shoving you backwards.

it's more shocking than the sudden kiss - the speed in which he pulls back and pushes you hard backwards by his warm grip, causing flutters of arousal to course through your stomach.

you stumble in shock but he keeps his hold on you, passionate as he movers the two of you back. you're torn away from his warmth as he presses you with one hand on the small of your back and the other on the beating pulse of your throat - right against a tree, nudging you as he tilts his head down to your height once more.

he's back on you in no less than a split second; his heat swirling around the cold air, teeth nipping at your lip when you take a moment longer than he'd like to open your lips to his tongue. he groans against you, a warm and deep thing that you feel in your own chest as your hand slides up to his hair, tugging at the base of his neck.

the fingers around your throat flex and tighten in reaction to your own grip and the moan that rips from your throat sends his hips in a slow thrust against yours.

you've been desperate for his touch for fucking days - he's been walking on eggshells even after you'd spent the night with him a few weeks ago. he'd barely touched you, taking his time trying to make up for all the lost time you'd spent trying to rip each other's heads off instead of your clothes.

and sure, you don't know who you are with him still - nothing defined, and a lot of things still unspoken - but for the first time since this whole mess started, that doesn't bother you. there's not much anger, nor jealousy - just... Joel. and you.

it's not bad.

his lips leave yours as he breathes against your lips, "like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?"

his hand slips from your back lower, tugging you against his semi-hard cock as his fingers squeeze your ass. his hand lies just below your jugular, thumb soothing over your cold skin as his dark eyes glint with desire. you feel a rush of arousal pool between your legs as you raise your brows.

"-you need to stop fucking touching me like that when we're riding, Miller." you growl against his lips, staring back at him. you lean slightly to catch his lips with yours once again but he pulls back with a strong hand against your neck to stop you - teasing.

he tuts, "you need to learn how to use your words, sweetheart." he growls against you, teeth catching on your bottom lip.

you whimper at the sharp sting, chasing him as if you could steal a kiss. he tilts his head just out of reach, his hand pressing against you until your breath comes out slightly ragged; your pussy flutters as he squeezes, knee sliding against your clothed core.

"if you want it, ask for it, baby." he all but demands, hands rough against you, "can't just throw a fit every time you're aching for my cock, or else you'll be whinin' all goddamn day. how am I supposed to know-"

but there's a snap of a twig somewhere behind you and you both spring apart, straight as boards, hackles raised.

it's almost like deja-vu as you're both thrown from your stupor - ripping away, your voices cease as your hand flies to your hunting knife - in your peripheral, you see that Joel's slung around his rifle so quick you're almost impressed as you both stare to your left.

christ - just the fucking horse, tied to the tree. stepped on a twig.

you let out a shaky breath, hand falling onto Joel's chest as you almost wheeze out a relieved laugh. but your hand feels it, suddenly - you notice how stiff Joel is, even after you've both realized there's no threats.

his heart, thundering in his chest wildly. like a caged animal surrounded by a pack of wild, ravenous wolves; Joel's heart tries to scramble right out of his chest and onto the dead ground.

that feeling - the one that creeps around at night when you wake up with memories of that cabin, of those raiders - of your past, visions of Joel, surrounded by red. that feeling that creeps up, squeezing at your throat and banging on your chest.

he's feeling it, too.

it's not from arousal, though you can see enough of that in his eyes, in the way his lips part and ragged breaths puff into the air - no, not arousal.

fear.

your heart hammers similarly, you suddenly notice. your hand shakes as it hovers near your knife; his hands grip the rifle so tight the blood may burst forth from the roughened skin any second.

"hey," you whisper, suddenly worried to speak above any quiet noise. his eyes are sharp and his jaw clenched as he looks back at you, wild and alarmed.

as if he were ready to fight for his life and yours.

"let's go home," you whisper, thumb running over the shoulder of his jacket, muscles strained and still below the layers.

he snaps out of it, eyes falling to rake over you as if assuring that you're still in front of him in one piece. his hand finds yours on his chest, sliding it off - not unkindly; his hand squeezes yours before boosting you up onto the double saddle silently.

Joel insists on walking you back to your house; he's brooding, as normal, as you both trudge back from turning in your patrol log and tracking the mud from the stable through the quiet streets.

you don't speak about what happened in the woods - the kiss, nor the twig snapping, but you ache and as you walk, every brush of the backs of your hands send shooting sparks up your arm.

"damn it," he grunts under his breath as you lead him up your driveway. you lift a brow at him, silent prompt to explain his expletive.

he shakes his head, "s'nothin'. forgot Ellie said the water heater ain't workin', said she was stayin' with her friend Dina till I fix it. cold shower for me tonight."

you grimace; the air nips at your cheeks, you can't imagine a cold shower in this weather. you shrug, "use mine." you suggest, tilting your head. "no point in turning into an icicle, Miller, you're cold enough as is." you tease, sending him a small wink.

something in you wonders if the shower really is broken, or if he just can't bring himself to ask; not that you can blame him. you can't bring yourself to ask, either.

your heart flutters when Joel rolls his eyes but still trudges after you, through the entrance of your home. his eyes look just as tired as you feel but there's a spark to them, one that coaxes more warmth between your thighs.

you see his eyes catch on the partially-smoked joint put out on the ashtray on your kitchen table as you slide past it; you have a mind to grab it before you make your way up the stairs, pretending not to feel too hot when you feel Joel's eyes graze over the sway of your hips.

he showers first, you insist.

while he does so, you strip out of your clothes and into a more comfortable sleeping shirt and shorts. you sit, smoking lazily on the joint, savoring the sharp herbal taste as it flows into your blood and trying to ignore the throbbing desire when the sound of the shower shuts off.

Joel's respectful when he leaves your bathroom, pants on and shirt tugged over his chest, speckled with dots of moisture. his hair is much darker and more curled just after a shower; you're transfixed as you stand in front of him, joint smoldering between your lips, an exhale of smoke swirling lazily from your nostrils.

"may I?" he asks suddenly, causing you to nod, pulling the joint out from your lips and noting how his own dark eyes follow it like a horse to a carrot; you smirk, tutting. "and to think, all this time you've been judging me for it?" you shake your head. "shame on you."

his jaw ticks and you just smirk, shaking your head as you hold the joint up to his lips boldly. "you're a bad influence on me, aren't you, Mr. Miller?" you ask, voice sultry as you peer up at him through your lashes. his eyes flick to yours as he inhales, your fingers ghosting over his plush lips. the ones you kissed not an hour earlier.

the air is thick in your room, steam from the hot water creeping through as Joel inhales the weed, ember lighting up your eyes in his. you leave the joint between his parted lips, opting to strip down as you walk towards the shower, hoping Joel had the mind to watch as you go.

your heart thuds in arousal and excitement when you hear his sharp exhale, still refusing to turn around as you leave the door slightly open once again. you and your innocent habit of leaving the bathroom door open when you shower.

you're relieved there's some fog over the glass door of the shower, but you take your time cleansing your hair, running soap over your face and then slowly, slowly lathering up your skin.

you can feel him watch the entire time.

his eyes are like a hawk's; you can see his shadow through the light of the bathroom, the ember of your joint glowing occasionally as your hands run over the wet planes of your skin.

your shaky fingers cascade down, over the skin of your stomach, lower until they just barely graze where you ache. it's like he's been waiting for you to finally start to touch yourself; just as your fingers find your slit, the amber of the joint is tamped, ashed on the windowsill.

you hum lowly as your fingers swirl through your velvet folds, so wet you're dripping onto your upper thighs as your head thumps against the wall.

"Joel," you let yourself whimper, eyes fluttering shut before opening again languidly.

Joel's footsteps are gentle as he slowly strides up to you; he lasted, admittedly, longer than you through this torturous game. through the glass, you see his tall frame and your legs quiver with desire - your aching cunt throbs as you move your hand over yourself, rinsing off the rest of the suds from your clean body as your fingers tease your bundle of nerves. your hips jolt; a choked moan from you as you slide the glass open slightly, cocking your head - "it's a shame you already showered," you mutter, fingers not ceasing as Joel's eyes rake over your naked for ravenously.

he leans on the doorframe to the bathroom, eyes stern as he takes in your silhouette through the fogged glass, slowly rolling over the curves of your body to meet your eyes with flames alit in his own.

"-it'd be nice to have some help." you shrug, gesturing to the bar of soap in your spare hand, eyes swimming with desire as your other hand continues the slow, torturous movements on your aching clit.

your eyes catch on his crotch; through the jeans, his cock is hard and straining already as if being stirred by just the sight of you, naked and whimpering for him in your shower.

"I know you've always liked a show, though, haven't you?" you tease, lifting a brow as you recall the night Joel'd first seen you shower.

his jaw ticks at your words but it's like something in his snaps; he wastes little time ripping his shirt off, his patience clearly gone as you bite your lip, stepping back for him as his jeans finally slide off.

his glowing, naked form crowds into your own as he slides into the shower with you. his eyes are sharp as his hand takes the soap from you; yet instead of running it over your skin like you'd hoped he would, he's tossing it to the side until it hits the wall of the shower and splinters into two.

you gasp slightly as his hand grips your neck, tugging you close. his cock is hard, tip glistening with beads of precum already as he presses to your lower stomach, his body glued to yours; his nose slides along the plane of your collarbone gently, the shower water pelting rolling off your meshed bodies like some sort of sick baptism.

"you smell clean, darlin'," he mutters against your kin, one hand sliding up to your scalp, threading through your hair. his tongue peeks out to lick a stripe up your throat. "taste clean, too-"

his hand tightens suddenly, tugging your hair until your head snaps up to him - his eyes are dark, face full of desire. "so why're you pretending you need my help?"

the condescension in his voice is intoxicating - your legs weaken, hands sliding up onto his hot skin under the water that cascades over him.

your throat dries as you swallow, eyes wide as a rush of arousal threatens to drip down onto your bare thighs.

his head tilts, "s'because you want to put on a show, 's that it?" he asks, voice condescendingly sweet as he once again tightens his grip. you whimper at the sweet feeling, nodding slightly.

he smiles against your neck before pulling away, "fine. you can give me a show. get on your knees." he hums, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. your head feels dizzy at the words he says and the sweetness of his kiss; the most delicious juxtaposition.

"a show." he chuckles to himself, shaking his head darkly. "gonna make you a goddamn star."

christ. your cunt squeezes around nothing, aching for him as his hands slide down to your shoulders. you nearly moan as he smirks, water cascading down his broad chest as he pushes you down; you sink to your knees, your wide eyes on his own as you move until you're close to his aching cock.

he stands, towering above you as the shower head sprays directly onto his back; water runs off the broad expanse of his chest and you follow the droplets as they smooth over his stomach, down over the sprinkling of hair that trails to the base of his dick. you swallow, heart thundering impatiently as you sit on your haunches, waiting anxiously for him to tell you what to do.

his brows raise, though, flush high on his cheeks from heat - or arousal - as he hums, "well?"

you blink at him in surprise as he shakes his head down at you, his own hand falling to pump his long cock in languid strokes, the skin so close to you that you can almost feel the heat. if you were to lean out, just a bit, to taste-

"christ, darlin' do I gotta tell you how to do everything?" he grunts, other hand cupping the back of your head, carding through your wet strands of hair as he tuts, "you were practically beggin' f'me earlier, now you're suddenly shy?"

your face blooms in heat, "no, sir, I just-" at your words, his eyes fall back and a groan echoes through your bathroom, "-just suck my cock, darlin' c'mon."

his impatience, desperation sends shivers down your spine and your mouth opens eagerly, tongue flattening as he slaps your tongue gently once, twice-

you're always surprised by the size of Joel - each time, it catches you off guard; the head of his cock breaches your lips and his pre-cum smears over your tongue; the taste of him has you keening forward, eager to feel him in you, filling you up.

"there you go, 's much better." he grunts, muttering as one hand slides around to hold your jaw. your eyes flutter up through your lashes and the falling shower water to stare at him, how big he is towering above you. his cock pushes into your warm mouth and you try your best to breathe through your nose, tongue sliding up the vein which reaches up towards his tip. his groan spurs you on and you gently start to bob your head, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth slowly as your knees press against the wet porcelain.

"you feel better like this, baby?" he mutters, your stomach tingling at his words. you can't nod - can't even make a noise as his hips slowly buck into you; you gag slightly and moan around his cock as it pushes to the back of your throat.

"fuck-" he grunts, one hand leaning forward to place against the wet shower tiles; he's crowding you, now, pressing you into the back of the shower as his body takes the brunt of the water and takes and takes from you.

anything Joel wants, he can fucking have it.

"that's it, sweetheart-" he grunts, "fuckin'- take me."

his hands grip yours, pulling them onto his thighs, muttering gently that if it's too much, you can slap his thigh; you nod, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you keen towards him again, hungry to feel him in your throat again.

your nails dig crescents into the meat of his thighs as he pushes your head right against the wall, fucking into your throat as his head tilts back. "tha's- right, look at you." he grunts, his lips parted as groans fall from his lip. the steam rises like tendrils from hell as you take Joel's length in your mouth, barely able to breathe in the most delicious way as he uses you. your spit trails over your chin and onto your bare chest as you stare up at him. one hand soothes over your forehead, wiping wet strands of hair plastered to your forehead, "you're a fuckin' star, baby."

you heat at his words, stomach swirling as you shift uncomfortably, cunt puffy and aching for relief.

your fingers grip onto him as he takes you in the shower, fucking your throat until you're dripping and aching and a writhing mess, his moans echoing around the empty home.

"water's cold." he grunts, pulling his cock from your lips; you, weakly, chase the heat of him as he leaves your mouth, gasping for air and coughing slightly.

he shuts off the water, suddenly, and you swallow as he turns back to you, eyes significantly softer than they'd just been; "somethin' wrong?" he teases, a dark smirk on his face as his eyes flicker to where your thighs press together to soothe the ache.

you grit your teeth, shaking your head, "jus' want you to touch me, sir." you mutter, face burning at the way Joel never ceases to reduce you to a whimpering mess.

he smiles one of those brilliant, radiant smiles.

"that's all you had to say, darlin'." he shrugs, "told you, if you just learn to ask for it nicely, I'll give it to you."

you shiver as you nod, taking his hand as he pulls you up off your sore knees, wrapping a towel around your form gently. he's so- commanding, yet still somehow keeping his kindness that often hides deep beneath his layers.

you can't tear your eyes away, though - even as Joel starts to walk towards your open bedroom - your hand stops him on his naked shoulder. "will you please fuck me?" you ask, voice stronger than you'd expected it to be.

his eyes flicker with something as he tilts his head, "right here?" he lifts a brow as his hand snaked over your neck to pull you flush against him once again. "y'gonna beg me to fuck you against the sink because you're too desperate for my cock to walk to the bed?" he whispers it into the shell of your ear; a shiver as you whine, eyes blinking up at him, "been waiting all day, Joel, stop fucking teasing me."

you notice your mistake too late; his jaw tenses as he bites down at the junction of your neck - you let out a sharp, whining moan as his teeth mark a love bite bright and center on your skin. "fuck- fuck, s-sorry, sir." you groan, eyes clenching shut in pleasure as his hands push you into the counter.

"bet you're fuckin' sorry." he mutters lowly as he pulls away from you, flipping you quick to bend you over the vanity of the sink. you gasp as the cool wet porcelain hits your breasts, your nipples hard and sensitive as a sharp smack lands on your ass.

"christ," he groans as you bend over, puffy lips soaked and glistening for him, "look at this pretty pussy."

you move your hips slightly and his hands grip onto your waist - "quit that." he snaps, hands resuming their exploring. he grazes over the backs of your thighs, up the expanse of your spine.

over your ass, groping and slapping, relishing in your small moans and sharp gasps. "don't move." he orders.

you sigh, head falling onto the sink as you nearly whimper - you're aching, throbbing as Joel teases you - "Joel," you whimper quietly, voice whiny and small.

"what's wrong, y'tired of being teased?" he asks, voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. your cheeks are hot as you groan, "please, need to feel you inside of me-"

he hums, smacking the flesh of your ass, "'f I don't warm you up you'll be sore, baby-" he tuts, "y'know I gotta get you ready."

"I don't care, I can take it- I like it, just-" you stutter, face heated as you nearly scream in frustration, unable to voice how badly you just want him inside of you.

he likes that - a thumb sliding over your cunt to spread your lips, exposing your pussy and ass to him as he hums. "too fuckin' eager, have to have my cock right now, 's that right?" he shakes his head with a dark smirk, hand teasing over your swollen lips as he nods, "yeah, s'alright, I'll give it to you whenever you ask."

"thank you," you wheeze, letting out a shaky sigh when Joel leans down, spitting directly onto your asshole, thumb sliding over the tight ring as he hums, "so desperate for me, couldn't even wait 'till we get back to town, could you? had to try an' fuck me right there in the woods." he doesn't wait for you to respond as he spits down again, this time the slick spit sliding down onto your seeping cunt. his hand leaves, replacing with the thick, teasing head of his cock.

you gasp, rising on your toes as the blunt tip of his dick spreads your cunt, teasing your clit before notching at your entrance. "gonna fill up every hole tonight, baby, y'gonna let me?"

you let out a whine, "fuck, yes, please." you nod, cunt fluttering around the tip of his cock.

the stretch is painful; you expected it, craved it - you let out an animalistic moan when he slides in a few inches. "oh-" you whimper, legs tensing as Joel kneads the flesh of your ass, pressing his bare chest to your spine as he mouths along the base of your neck, "relax, baby, so fuckin' tight-" he groans as he slides in slowly, "let me in, sweetheart, c'mon-"

a rush of arousal and he's fully seated within you, the sting of his cock in you subsiding as a growing desire mounts until you can't take it. "move- m-move, now, please." you rush, hips pushing back against Joel's impatiently.

"shit," Joel hisses as he pulls out of you slightly - a long, thick drag against your velvety cunt and you groan at the sweet bliss of being filled up. you moan as he thrusts forward, tip hitting the perfect spot that already, as his pace builds, has a simmering coil deep within you.

"thought- thought about it all day," you admit, hands finding purchase on the counter as he starts to fuck into you, your tits sliding as they press against the sink. "on the horse, thought abo-" you moan sharply as his thumb grazes over your asshole, spreading the slick and his spit around the tight ring. "fuck, sir- that feels good." you moan. he groans in response and the words fly from your lips - "you drive me crazy, so big, t-touching me all the time. dream about you filling me up- s-stuffing me full, even out in the woods-"

your words are too much for Joel, apparently, because his hand slaps over your mouth and his voice whispers, "sh-shut the fuck up, darlin', y'needa be quiet or I'm gonna finish before this even starts." he grunts, hips snapping into yours as he picks up the pace.

you whimper at his words, arousal gushing from you and coating his cock in your slick; the wet slapping of your bodies echoing through the bathroom. "fuck-" he drags out the word, fingers sliding over your lips to prod at your mouth, "here- suck, darlin' - there you go, good girl, that's right."

your tongue slides over his fingers, eyes fluttering closed as you feel his thumb breach your tight hole; a sudden rush of pleasure runs through you as it hits you - Joel's everywhere. he's filling you completely - his thumb slowly fucks your tight ring of muscle as his cock spears your cunt; his fingers, pressing down on your tongue as you whimper and moan around him.

a groan leaves his full lips; "fuck- look at me." he grunts, hand sliding up your throat to pull your jaw towards your reflection. "look at me, baby-" his fingers slide back into your mouth as your eyes meet the fire in his through the mirror.

"always tell me when you feel like this, 'kay?" he asks, brows stern as he rams his hips into you; his thumb fills you and fucks into you at a slower speed than his cock, sending searing pleasure through your entire body.

your flesh moves at the impact of his hips and you cry out as his cock hits the delicious spot inside you that curls your toes. his thumb slips from your ass and you whimper dejectedly; the full feeling subsiding slightly as his hand grips your tits, pinching your nipple as he hums in your ear. "don't want my pretty little slut feeling so needy all the time, right?" he mutters, nosing at your hair as he fucks into you with no abandon. your fingers clench to the sides of the sink as you let out a strangled, "yes, sir-"

"so if you use your words, I'll give you anything you want." he groans, hand smacking your ass as the other squeezes your jaw. you nod, agreeing with his words though his cock has rendered you nearly speechless. he hums in approval before muttering, "now you're goign to play with your clit until you cum."

you let your eyes roll back at the commanding tone as your hand snakes down to rub tight, blisteringly pleasurable circles over your bundle of nerves.

but it's immediately too much so soon; you're already so close to your orgasm that a jagged gasp falls from your lips, jumping at the feeling.

"no, 's too much," you moan, head falling back as your finger teases your clit, flames of pleasure licking up isnide you.

but Joel smirks, "why're you still doin' it, then?" he teases, cock hitting so deep and bruising that you think you may see stars.

you moan out, "w-wanna cum, wanna make you happy, Joel." you whimper, completely forgetting to call him sir; but you feel his brows furrow as a moan ripples from his lips - "y'makin' me real happy right now, darlin', look at you. fucked out on this old man's cock, doin' whatever I say, desperate and willing. you're perfect, aren't you?"

you shiver in pleasure at his praise, fingers shaking as you rub your clit, trying so hard not to ruin your orgasm by cumming too soon. his cock spears into you at a pace that will certainly bruise your hips; your breath is punched out of you, your gasps and moans painting the air.

"say it, baby." he orders, hand stroking your breast a staunch contradiction to his brutal pace. "tell me how perfect you are for me."

you wail, head falling back onto his broad, thick shoulder as he runs his mouth over your shoulder, nipping as he goes. you're out of breath - "p-perfect, I'm perfect for you Joel, fuck, don't stop. so good, so good-" you mumble, fucked out after only a few minutes.

he hums, nodding into you. "taught you well, didn't I? you're my perfect little star."

you nod, "yes, sir, thank you-" you squeal in pleasure as he strokes long and slow, pushing you nearly to the brink as your legs shake. you can't take it, though - your fingers stop their ministrations, shaking and burning as you pull away from your clit, so close from just his cock and-

a slap to your cheek as Joel's lips bite into your jaw, "put your fuckin' hand back right now. you don't stop 'till I tell you to."

you swallow shakily, shaking your head, "I can't- it's too much, I can't-"

"fine." he snaps, slapping your cheek again before one hand slips to grip hard at your shoulder, lifting one of your legs up onto the sink; his other hand snakes down to pinch your tortured clit and you scream as he grunts in your ear, "I'll do it myself."

he's unforgiving on your quivering cunt, barely able to stay upright as he pushes you down, your cheeks pressing to the cool counter as he pounds down into you, shooting you into a hurtling race towards your orgasm.

he brutally fucks into you in a blinding pace. you nearly scream as white-hot pleasure rips through you, your hands falling to the counter as he coaxes a mind-bending orgasm from you. you see white as you cum, pulsing and writhing over his cock as it spears into you, splitting you open.

"that's it, baby-" he lets out a loud moan, biting into your neck as he continues the brutal pace, "jesus- s'fucking tight, baby, can barely move-" his hands fall to your hips, using you as a fuck toy to finish himself off; you're still writhing with the ecstasy of the orgasm, relishing in the way his hands hold you.

"where're you gonna take me, baby?" he grunts, voice strained: he's so close.

you scramble, holding his hips as you nearly pass out - pleasure too much. "cum on my ass, please sir." you mutter, heat licking up your throat as the words come out.

he moans and pulls out of you suddenly, hand flying from your skin to his cock, a slick noise as he quickly tugs himself until hot spurts of his cum paint the skin of your ass. "pretty girl," he grunts to himself, "an' you're all mine."

you hum, moaning quietly as his thumb soothes over your skin, spreading his cum over your ass and pressing it slightly against your ass. your cunt flutters in arousal at the action and he hums, "y'like that, don't you, pretty girl?"

you nod as you let out a shaky sigh and he presses a kiss to your spine, "good." it's a whisper on your skin, a promise.

he's barely grabbed a towel to wipe his cum off your skin before you're turned around on jelly legs - his strong arms pull you in so fast you barely have a second to straighten out - he's nuzzling into your wet hair in a way that has your heart thumping and your throat dry.

his heart beats against your cheek, body warm, chest heaving along with yours.

heat, affection - they swirl in your chest as his bare body cradles yours. intimately.

your sweet skin is sticky with sweat when Joel comes to, out of the bliss of his and your orgasms.

he's just as sweaty as you, though the clean skin and foggy mirror have started to clear up. Joel nearly huffs a short laugh at the thought of taking yet another shower - christ knows the two of you are once again filthy - but he kind of likes it, in a way. a secret.

he brushes it off when he feels your fingers curl around his arm; he had barely noticed that he'd tugged you upright and right into his chest, holding you as tight as he could. for some reason, his mind reaches back to earlier in the evening, when he'd heard that branch - the fear, the panic that'd risen in him. he's not sure why, or at least, he won't think about it. you hadn't mentioned it, but he'd seen your hands shake and your eyes cloud with fear.

something for another time, because he has you warm and pliant and naked in his arms. he barely noticed how his lips press at your hairline; it's just... well, feels natural.

like you both need it.

"stay here, please." you ask meekly, quietly. the first words spoken in a minute; you're swallowing around the nerves and anxiety that crawl in your chest, he can tell. he feels them, too.

he's taken aback as he stares at you - you both have patrol again in the morning, is it not... aren't you going to get tired of him?

won't you find him annoying, or gross in the morning when he inevitably pulls you closer in his sleep, when the dreams are too real and he shoots up in bed?

the panic subsides as he stares into your warm eyes, hopeful, bashful. he smiles gently, biting through the smile in embarrassment at how willing he is to stay. he'd stay forever if you asked.

Joel nods through his surprise, though, his body and heart and head aching to lie with you once again, to feel the calmest sleep he's had in years.

"course, darlin', I'll..." he pulls you in closer, so he doesn't have to look at those damn eyes when he finally admits it -

"I'll stay as long as you want."

feedback welcome as always :') <3

#joel miller x reader smut #joel tlou smut #joel miller smut

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soulwillower · 10 months

Note

😻

okay hear me out…… a javi fic based on the song bad idea by girl in red…..

bad idea

pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 5.7k requested: yes, based on the song bad idea! by girl in red as above as well as "can we have a javi p x fem!reader fic with a size kink PLLLSSSSS you'll fucking body that!!!" summary: "bottom line, now you're stuck at this sticky bar, nursing your whiskey ginger because there's only one other person here you know; and he is a bad idea. and he's walking over to you." warnings: probably the worst spanish ever (pls correct me!), tbh this is porn with feelings, established friendship, this ended up pretty fluffy, soft dom!javi, reader has a very loose job description, drinking, smoking, size kink, praise, minor self-doubt/insecurity from both, oral (f!receiving), smut (unprotected PiV), spitting, slight face riding, multiple orgasms. notes: cant BELIEVE this is my first javi fic??? bc ive been loving this request for a while and this finally came to me amidst a fever, ive written it in like just over an hour and a half and refuse to edit it. anyways, desperate Javi is so sexy to i had to throw it in there,,, please lmk if you enjoy it and leave a comment/reblog!! that's how writers are motivated!! :) lmk if you guys want more javi in the future bc hes soooo yummy

★

it's as if the universe is calling on you to make bad decisions tonight.

you didn't intend on going to the bar and staying until last call - that notion had only just appeared to you around four-forty-five pm, when you were signing what was to likely be only halfway through the documents you had to sort and approve by today's deadline. or maybe it'd slipped into your head when Murphy and Peña strutted into their desks just across from yours in the bullpen, smirks on their faces and their words hushed.

you'd caught Javier's eye just as he laughed at something Steve muttered, his brows raising tauntingly as he glanced from his empty desk to your cluttered one. his shirt was unbuttoned and tie loosened, much too casual for the work day that'd yet to end; you'd rolled your eyes and resisted the urge for a cigarette. or the urge to climb over those desks and onto his lap right then and there.

so you'd told yourself as a reward for the overtime you'll be punching in this week, you'll grab a few drinks - maybe, maybe find someone pretty to go home with. it's been a few months since anything delicious came your way, and after your tortuous new reassignment to the west side of the office, you've been forced to stare at Javier Peña for close to forty hours a week while he furrows his brow, churning cigarettes and barking things on the phone.

it was a bad idea to let yourself find him attractive, and an even worse decision to become friendly - because once it started, it was an downhill sprint towards full-blown feelings.

he didn't make it easier, with his looks and his comments and how he walked you to your car every evening or invited you to drinks with him, Murphy and Connie every Friday.

Javi was trouble. so, here you were.

but fate is not on your side - it was simply a bad idea to come to this bar.

it's not like you didn't expect to see him here, either. Javi always frequents this bar, all DEA agents do - and you'd actually told him and Murphy this time that you'd planned your night around this exact barstool. another poor plan, because now you're stuck staring at Javier's chiseled profile as he smiles at the woman working the bar, sliding his empty glass across to her and running a hand over his jaw.

yes, you'd all but invited Javi to join you this evening, but you hadn't expected him to come alone - something about Connie and Murphy going to buy flowers on the way home - whatever. bottom line, now you're stuck at this sticky bar, nursing your whiskey ginger and poking at the ice with your cocktail straw because there's only one other person here you know; and he is a bad idea.

and he's walking over to you.

"what's got you so down, cariño?" his voice is smooth as silk - but something deeper, almost. barrel-aged, probably. you regret the smile that placates your expression when he pulls himself into the stool on your left, turning your body to face him slightly. he's smiling already - that fucking smile, damn him.

your head feels fuzzy as the smell of his cologne, muddled from the sweat of the day and the drink he'd enjoyed in the hour before deciding to come over to your side of the bar. you sigh, "trying to decide if I can walk home from here." you joke with a shrug, huffing a laugh through your nostrils as you cross your legs together.

your skirt always used to feel odd against the stools here - the juxtaposition of work attire in a dive like this sticking out like a sore thumb. but you're used to it, now, and it barely phases you that your work shirt is unbuttoned just a bit more than it'd been at work this evening.

Javi tuts gently, "should've considered that before last call." he mutters, raising his brows as he slides a cigarette between two plush lips, searching around his tight jeans for a light. your lips curl in a half-smile as you flick your own lighter, leaning forward to light it for him; his eyes, dark and swimming.

"guess so, but I've been prone to making bad decisions lately." you sigh, shrugging a shoulder.

he hums lowly as a puff of smoke plumes around your bodies, gently caressing you. his arms, exposed to the elbow by the carefree sleeve-rolling Javi did the moment he left the embassy, glow golden under the low light. "Leavitt." he mutters in recognition, and something within you blooms and sputters. you nod sheepishly - Leavitt had reamed you in the middle of the bullpen early this morning for incorrectly guessing on some of his paperwork and resulting him in a fine.

you wish Javi hadn't heard, but- well, it'd been hard not to hear.

you smile weakly, shrugging as you desperately try to chase the cherry at the bottom of your glass, not sure what to say. your eyes meet his when you finally fish the cherry up and bring it to your lips; the sweet flesh of the fruit breaks open and the juice slides over your lips and onto your tongue as you sigh.

his eyes follow you just as they've followed your figure around the office for months; dark, unspoken, wanting. screaming something at you, as you lift one brow towards his dark gaze.

"among other things," you sigh, tongue slipping out to gather the syrupy juice on your bottom lip, "yes."

Javi shrugs, "fuck him." he mutters it simply, fingers tapping lightly on the wood grain of the bar between you, and you crack a smile, "yeah, fuck him."

you swallow your last sip before humming, "so where's Murphy? didn't realize this'd be a party of two."

he tilts his head, "is that such a bad thing?"

you huff a short laugh, cheeks heating up as he stares down at you, eyes dipping low to the lowest button of your shirt before meeting your gaze. "I never said that, did I Javi?" you smile sweetly, balancing your head on your hand, leaning on your elbow. but you know better; this is a bad thing, you realize.

because the second Javi leans closer, you catch the woodsy musk and cigarettes that swirl around him, a deep amber scent. you're totally fucked.

there's something that's been dancing between the two of you for weeks now, too exciting and different and real to acknowledge yet; but now, with three drinks under your belt and his large eyes on you, you don't think you can resist.

you don't want to.

but something catches your eye behind his attentive frame, and you try to hide a laugh. "your admirer is staring." you smirk, eyes distracted by the woman tending bar who keeps glancing with a stare at the back of Javi's head.

he doesn't even turn his head, seemingly already knowing who you're talking about.

he shakes his head, "she's an old friend." he dismisses, eyes not leaving yours. you raise a brow, "friend?" you scoff lightheartedly - you know him, you know his reputation.

he smiles, "yes, a friend." he insists, though his pink cheeks suggest otherwise, and you laugh.

"it's been months since I've been with someone." you sigh, almost embarrassed to be admitting that to someone with such... high credentials in that arena. you honestly don't even know why you admitted it.

he doesn't seem phased, but his eyes seem to grow a shade darker as he flickers them back to you.

"why don't you change that?" he says with almost no hesitation.

you shake your head, "because I don't have a ride home." you tease, looking at him through your lashes.

his head tilts towards you microscopically, eyes flickering over your features in a way that has your thighs clenching together. "let's go." he decides, ghost of a grin falling on his lips as he moves to stand. you blink, setting the glass with a clink down on the bar, "you don't have to, Javi, I can-"

he waves you off with a dismissive hand, shaking his head as if offended, "I'm not leaving you here, cariño." he smiles gently, offering a hand to help you off your stool. something warm turns in your stomach as you take his hand - this is such a bad idea yet you can't help but dive in head-first.

he insists on walking you to your door.

you'd think it chivalrous, but with the way his hand falls on the small of your back, you're beginning to think it's anything but.

he leans against the wall just next to your door as you dig through your purse for your keys, cheeks hot under the scrutiny of his gaze. by the time you slide the key into the lock and open the door, he's standing just a foot away from you, hands in his pockets and an easy look on his face under the flickering fluorescent lights in the hall. you turn back, heart hammering, as he speaks.

"have a good night, cariño." he says with a gentle smile, about to turn around; you feel your opportunity slip through your fingers like the grains of time as you stutter, "w-wait!"

he can't hide the smirk as he turns back to you and you bite your lip, tilting your head inside, "Javi..." you murmur softly, embarrassed to even say it.

his brows raise in question, intrigue spreading over his face, but he says nothing.

in your impatience, you flush, sighing. "don't make me say it." you almost whine.

at your words, he takes a step towards you, your head tilting up to follow his eyes until he's directly in front of you.

there's a playful kind of desire that flickers through his features as he watches you're heaving breaths. his breath hits you warm and inviting as his glistening eyes search yours, "say it."

your throat dries as you take a breath, "please," you try instead, face heating in embarrassment. he shakes his head, one large hand rising to caress over your jaw, brushing a strand of hair back from your ear.

leaning into your ear, he whispers gently, "you can do better than that, can't you hermosa?" his voice rolls over your body, inciting goosebumps to travel the length of your skin.

you let out a stuttering breath, your whole body buzzing in anticipation as your eyes roll over the doors of your neighbors, hoping none of them can see the way this man crowds around you right now, how desperate you are as your hand slides over his own forearm. "Javi, I want you," you whisper, biting your lip.

the groan he lets out sends a rush of heat to your core; arousal slicks your underwear as you feel lips ghost over the junction of your neck and shoulder; "estoy seguro de que sí, niña bonita," he breathes against your hot skin, his hands grabbing your hip and hair, pushing you suddenly against the wall.

you gasp, a short whimper escaping your throat as his teeth scrape over your pressure point, one hand sliding into his hair, tugging at the thick locks. "fuck," you whimper as he presses fully against you, the pressure of his hardening cock against your stomach, "Javi-"

you mutter, hands frantically pulling him by the collar of his shirt towards your awaiting, desperate lips-

he tastes warmer than you'd imagined. like bourbon, some sort of sweet - licorice? - and desire as he licks into your mouth fervently, hand roaming down your sides to splay over your ass. you gasp against his mouth once his large hand squeezes your ass; seizing the opportunity, his teeth bite gently on your bottom lip. he leaves you breathless and dizzy.

yes, this was - this was a bad idea.

"look at you, hermosa." he mutters as he pulls away, hand splaying over your cheek and turning your head slightly, his eyes coursing over your aching body, searching his friction. something flickers in his eyes as he watches your hips move desperately, his hands squeezing over your waist, "so pretty."

you flush at his words, the adoration lacing his face as he takes in your mussed hair, stuttering chest.

"inside-" you start to suggest, breathless with desire, and he nods eagerly, "yes-" and then you're stumbling inside your apartment, a rush of cologne hitting your nose pleasantly as he crowds behind you, hands on your back, sliding low until he's squeezing your ass and groaning into your ear, "drive me fuckin' crazy with these skirts, baby."

you let out a moan when he's pushed you back against the wall, hands pulling to untuck your blouse from your skirt, lips trailing marks up and down the column of your neck. you scramble to help him undo your top, but he get's too impatient-

the buttons pop and clatter onto the ground as he rips the blouse open, exposing your lacy white bra; your eyes round as you gasp, "Peña!" you snap, swatting him on his shoulder as he laughs sheepishly, staring at his own mess then back to you.

"I'm sorry." he utters, trying desperately to conceal his smirk as you glare at him, trying to calm your thundering heart because Javier Peña wanted you so bad he just ripped open your blouse.

he sighs, pulling at your hips until you give in, melting against him, "I'm sorry, cariño, I'll buy you another." he sounds a little more sincere this time as his lips press against your neck again and you help him shuck off the shell of what remains; his hands mould against your breasts instantly, thumb brushing against the bud that peeks through the lace, hardened in arousal. "you're so pretty, baby, it hurts." he mutters, cheeks tinted as he leans in to kiss you again, a warm feeling coursing through you as he slowly undoes your bra. he's always been so dramatic.

you smile to yourself as you watch him lean down, placing kisses down your chest.

your stomach coils in desire as he hitches one of your thighs up against his hip, hand sliding down to the strap of your heels; you silently thank yourself for wearing your decent heels - sexy, but professional. his eyes eat you as his fingers slowly undo the buckle on the heel, dropping it to the floor while staring into your eyes.

your heart hammers as he drops your leg in favor of the other, slowly dragging his fingers down your legs to unclasp the other; as you fall down to your true height, he has to stoop over you to catch your lips to his, your teeth scraping as he groans into your lips. your hands hungrily shove his suit jacket off his broad shoulders, tongue pressing against his as he pushes you hard back against the wall.

you moan gently as he grabs your thigh and hitches it once again against his hip, pressing his length up against your core; the friction is delicious against your aching clit, dull but stimulating. you try to cover it up, "you better buy me two blouses, Javi." you joke. he smirks into your mouth, hand sliding below your skirt to toy with the ends of your stockings.

biting down on your throat as he snaps the stocking against the plush skin of your thighs, he groans, "fuck it- I'll buy you anything you want, just let me taste this pussy." he adds, voice low as he reaches around, fumbling with the zipper on your skirt.

oh, god.

you help him with frantic hands; soon he's down on his knees, hands sliding up your thighs, clad in your stockings and panties, his breath hitting your heat gently.

one hand rises up your abdomen to toy with your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple as he hums. you sigh shakily as you stare at him, body electric with arousal.

his eyes are blown wide as he stares up at you, tie loose, shirt unbuttoned and disheveled, hair mussed up from your fingers - the picture of an angel. your heart nearly stops as he leans forward, eyes still on you, and kisses just below your navel.

your heart pounds as you stand on shaky legs, watching with anticipation as Javi teases you, kissing just around where you want him: your thighs, down to your knees, back up- your waistline - as his lips flutter onto your skin, you have to close your eyes, trying to find your breath because your mouth is screaming at you to say something that could ruin this all.

(yeah, this was a bad idea).

but he slowly pulls at the edges of your underwear, you're aware of how hot everything is: you're sweaty, in need of a shower eventually. biting your lip, you mutter, "should- do you want me to shower, first? it was so hot out today-"

any self-doubts that had crossed your mind are thrown out your open window into the night's warm breeze when Javier looks up at you with a face almost offended; as if it were absurd to ask. his hands close possessively over the backs of your thighs as he growls.

he shakes his head, hands tightening on you so you stay against the wall, "you're not going anywhere. I've been dreaming of this pussy for ages. I'd live here between your legs, hermosa." he mutters, pressing his nose up against your panties, moaning at the damp seat, "so sé buena para mi y deja que te pruebe, si?"

swallowing dry as your face heats, you nod, fingers brushing hair from his eyes. "si, Javi."

he nods, "good."

his thumb rises to prod gently at your pussy, sliding over the damp fabric as you gasp sharply. he lets out a low hum just as his thumb slides to hook your panties to the side, revealing your glistening, aching cunt for him. you watch with a slack jaw as his tongue darts out; a bold, flat stripe up your heat sends shivers through your body, your throat letting out a quick gasp at the desire that rocks through your body.

"fuck, princesa, you taste so good." he groans, a desperation laced into his voice that you've never heard from him; one more lick spreading your arousal before he's swirling his tongue around your clit, holding your hips down hard into the wall to ensure you can't move away as he groans into you.

"feels so good, Javi-" you whimper, face hot as he hums, face moving between your thighs as you stand on shaky legs. "what was that?" he teases, biting your thigh softly. you yelp, hands falling to grip his hair, your head falling back against the wall. "sh-shut up," you breathe, grinning with hot cheeks as he chuckles against your heat.

but then he pulls your panties down your legs, tossing them behind him before he settles back between your thighs; suddenly one of his thumbs is spreading you open more, forcing your legs to spread just slightly, and he's spitting onto your wet heat.

your toes curl in pleasure as you gasp, one hand grasping your breast, thumbing your nipple. your stomach clenches as he leans back into you and works, tongue spreading over your cunt and gathering your arousal from your aching entrance before pulling your clit into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth and sending shocks through you.

he groans when you tug on his hair; the vibrations from his throat sending a thrill up your spine and you can't help as your hips buck forward, smothering Javi's face and nudging your clit against the ridge of his nose.

"s-sorry," you mutter, face flushing as he pulls back and stares at you hungrily; he shakes his head, "fuck, do it again." he orders, lips falling back onto you, tongue coursing through your soaked cunt as you buck your hips, the feeling of your clit against the bridge of his nose pulling a sharp gasp from you.

your words fail you as Javi squeezes your ass, slapping you harshly and causing you to yelp. your hips don't cease their movements; riding his face, the nudge of his nose on your bundle of nerves hurtles you towards the edge of your orgasm, and you start to moan his name louder and louder.

his mouth works to wind you up, your legs twitching and hands grasping at yourself and at his shoulders, his hair. he eats you up like he's been starved for months, his mouth only leaving you to mutter words into your dripping pussy. it's mere minutes before you're writhing against the wall and Javi leans back, "I can feel you're close, hermosa," he breathes, thumb replacing his tongue as he speaks. your thighs start to close but he holds them open, blinking those large eyes up at you, "need to feel you cum on my tongue, baby. cum." he sounds more desperate than you've imagined even in your wildest of dreams and you nod, your stomach burning with the clench of nearing your orgasm.

you hit your high merely seconds after his mouth falls back onto you - your fingers in his hair, his name from your lips, chest heaving and back arching off the wall. he moans heavy into you as he laps you up, drinking you in and coaxing you through your orgasm with gentle hands and a silver tongue.

you're left breathless when he stands back up, your legs as weak as jelly as his hand pulls your jaw forward and into him.

your lips meet his in a sticky, passionate kiss; you can taste yourself on his tongue as you pull his hips against yours, his cock straining through his pants.

"do you need a minute-" he pulls back to ask as your hands slowly slither down to fumble with his belt; your heart thrums as your body rides the high of your orgasm, but all you want is more, more.

you don't think you'll ever stop wanting more of Javier Peña.

this was a really bad idea.

"-I can get you water-" he tries to offer and your heart thumps at how kind he is, so attentive and caring - but you shake your head, nipping at his lips as you push him backwards, further into the apartment, "no- need you now, Javi, please." you mutter, "water after." you insist, unable to fight the smile that grows as he chuckles against your lips.

"okay, señorita, whatever you say." he whispers, leaning slightly until he's picked you up and you wrap your legs around his hips, bare, sensitive cunt against the rough denim of his jeans. "but I don't want to hear any complaining, now." he teases, eyes sharp and shining with a playfulness that has you smirking.

"then you better give me what I want." you counter as he stumbles his way through the threshold of your bedroom, hand coming to the back of your head to make sure he doesn't bump you against the frame.

"I'll give you anything if you ask nicely." he whispers into your ear, biting your earlobe as you both tumble down onto your mattress, desperately clawing at his shirt and tugging his jeans off until he's splayed above you, arms caging you in as your stocking-clad legs wrap around his naked hips.

he pushes up, leaning back so he's got his cock in his hand, pumping slowly as he stares at your bare body, splayed out for him. his eyes look ravenous; slowly, he lets his cock rub up your slit, gathering all of your arousal and juices as he rolls his hips.

you hitch your breath, both of your sighs heavenly as they flow through the evening air. there's sweat sheened over his built chest and your fingers slide over his toned arms, lifting yourself slightly so you can look-

oh, fuck.

your eyes almost roll back at the sight of his swollen cock, thick and large and lying against the short hairs that curl just above your pussy; he's so big, splayed on your stomach - he's going to be so deep.

your eyes widen as you wonder briefly how he'll fit but then he's humming, "ready, princesa?"

you nod desperately, clawing at him until he's caged you once again, the tip of him prodding your entrance gently. "yes, Javi. fuck me, please."

he hums, "dirty mouth," he mutters, "for such a sweet girl." he kisses you just so, his hand brushing hair away from your forehead as he teases you.

you’re breathless; shivers cascade down your spine at the press of him, slowly breaching your hole and grinding sloooow and smooth into your dripping cunt, aching with desire.

he can’t slide into you, not fully- his cock is too thick, your cunt dripping but still so goddamn tight. the moan he lets out as he inches in slowly is fucking heavenly. "fuck, cariño, you weren't lying-" he mutters, almost shaking with restraint as he slowly eases himself into your tight walls, "-shit, so tight."

you grip his shoulder tight, "t-told you- it's been months," you gasp and he smirks, "thought that was just a line to get me back to your place," he mutters.

as he stills himself, nostrils flaring with focus, you lay a hand over his cheek - his eyes meet yours, something deep and truthful hidden in them. your eyes scream back at him.

oh, you're fucked for him. this may have been a horrible idea.

"well maybe I was just waiting for the right person," you speak before you can think- he freezes, you can feel his muscles tense. your mind reels. fuck, you hadn't even talked about what this was between the two of you- a quick fuck, stress relief, or something more- you're fucked.

but he smiles, suddenly, groaning through squeezed eyes as he shakes his head, "you're going to kill me, cariño." he mutters, one hand falling to your hip, "you're so fucking cute."

your stomach rolls with butterflies at his words and you hide your face. he has none of that, though, and peels one hand from your face and kisses you sweetly.

the kiss heats quickly as you slide your tongue against his; a strangled gasp leaves your lips when he starts to slide into you more, inch-by-inch, stretching you open and filling you full of him. his head falls heavy against your chest as he mutters, “you're tight, baby, so fucking perfect.”

his voice is starting to slur in pleasure as he soon slides into you fully, sheathed deep. you flutter around him as you accommodate to his size, the feeling of him nearly melting you as he starts to slowly thrust. his hips roll and grind against your clit; you gasp, nails raking down his bare back and pulling a moan from his lips.

you let out a loud moan, his thickness stretching you and sliding deeper than expected, the tip of his cock kissing against a spot that has you keening. your toes curl and your head falls back as he grinds into you slow, deep.

it's a feeling you've never felt before; you knew Javi had a... reputation, all the women talk about it at your girl's nights and at the water cooler. but you never imagined such bliss as his hands roam you, palming your tits, his lips tracing shapes of affirmation all over your face, chest, hairline.

his voice slips between english and spanish as he purrs praise after praise in your ear- dreamed of you for ages, baby... just like that, yes, take my cock... querida, so good for me...

all you can say is his name; it falls from your lips like it’s the only word you know, his hips soon pistoning into you with fervor, chasing the feeling which coils again in your abdomen.

suddenly he's grabbing at your hips, lifting you slightly as his legs slide under you and you're flipped up, straddling him, sitting on his cock as your legs wrap around his back.

you feel one of his own sturdy thighs prop up behind you as he lets you gather your breath; a whimper of his name has him nipping at your bottom lip.

"shh, querida I know, feels so deep, doesn't it?" he mutters, kissing your lips as you slowly start to rock your hips, bouncing slightly as Javier's hands roam up your spine, one squeezing your ass as the other tugs your hair.

"fuck," you moan, "you're so big, Javi-" he groans at your words, his own hips thrusting upwards and hitting a spot inside you that has you screaming; he leans back, staring up at you as you stare down at him with lust-filled eyes. his hand falls to lay against your stomach and your eyes follow his, where you can see the slight movements of him deep inside you-

christ.

you moan at the sight, the thought - he's so big all the way inside you - he's tugging you closer to him, until you're chest to chest, lips pressing hard against the other.

the sounds of you and Javi's bodies together echo through your apartment; your head lulls to the ceiling as you let out a languid moan, the spot he's hitting making your eyes roll back. you can feel your cheeks hot and heavy as you whimper in desire; you're so goddamn close again, you know he can feel it.

"shit-" he groans, "y'close?" he mutters and you nod frantically, the pleasure coiling dangerously fast.

"been months, hermosa?" he groans into your ear as he meets you halfway with his thrusts, your breath punched from you with every kiss to your g-spot, "this what you wanted, hm? this feel good?"

he’s always had you wrapped around his finger, and he fucking knows it.

you sigh in ecstasy, unable to form full sentences as he hits the delicious spot inside you that nearly makes you pass out: "yes, J-Javi- so good, so good-" your hands hold him as close as possible, his warm chest against yours.

the crest of your orgasm tingles your thighs, your toes curling and legs shaking as you start to stutter; he moans heavy- he's close, too. his thrusts are getting slower, sloppier. his movements are soon desperate and deep as yours are; his tip kisses your cervix and your body jolts up with each movement of his pubic bone against yours.

"you're perfect- fuck, need you to cum, baby-" he starts, desperate as one hand holds your neck, the other on your ass, tight enough to leave marks. "cum on my cock, hazlo ahora mismo mi amor, please-"

he's rushing, desperate as you moan, his words throttling you hard towards the edge.

you see colors when you hit your high. your orgasm explodes as you flutter around him, pulsing, moaning, your body shuddering as you slow your movements on his lap, unraveling around his touch. your voice is broken, mutters and whimpers of his name drifting through the room.

your thighs are soaked with your own spend and your cunt grips him like a vice; he can't help but kiss your open mouth as he milks you through your orgasm, muttering soft grunts in your ear. "that's it, baby. there y'go, so pretty, querida." he kisses the column of your throat as his thrusts slow to deep, long thrusts. "atta girl."

his slow thrusts are splintered by his voice, "sh-shit, 'm gonna cum." he sounds almost desperate, his body so close to yours it's almost like he's trying to smother you. he groans your name in a broken sound; his grip tugging your hair. as he lifts you slightly, pulling out just in time for him to paint you with his cum.

his seed covers your lower stomach, his groans deep and breaths quick as he moans, brows furrowed. your heart slams at the sight; Javi, pushing you down onto the mattress as he pumps his release onto your chest.

his head tilts back, a look of complete bliss on his face, brows tight as his abdomen muscles tense and flex. his arms, toned in the soft light of your bedroom, glow. christ.

okay, not a bad idea. a fucking dream.

he slumps onto you after a second, moving so that he doesn't crush your chest, pulling you tight against his own hot skin. you feel his smile grow against your neck and the butterflies that grow in your chest swirl out of control.

you smile, too.

you catch your breaths in silence while he places kisses sweetly over the marks he made earlier, your hand smoothing down his back, to the curve of his ass, and back up.

once his breath is back, he kisses your cheek and stands, stretching his bare body, unashamed of the open window across the room.

you smile, face hot as he smirks at you, his eyes raking over the cum that paints your skin, before walking towards the kitchen. you sigh, lighting a cigarette that you dig from his jeans as he comes back into the room to wipe you clean, handing you a glass of water.

you smile at that, shaking your head as you hold the cigarette up to his lips, watching as the ember lights up the dark of his mustache and the light in his eyes. there's smile lines around those eyes; it makes your stomach flip.

once you've both drained the glass of water, he pulls you back down to his chest, relaxing against the mattress.

"well, that was probably the worst decision you made all day, hermosa."

his voice is teasing, but there's a flicker of doubt that crosses his eyes that you know all too well. your heart flips as you shake your head gently, hands cupping his cheeks.

"this was the best idea I've had in weeks, Javi." you smile softly, pecking his lips gently.

when you pull away, his smile is so soft you almost want to photograph it. something in the air is sweet when the two of you silently realize that he's going to stay the night; he pulls you up into his chest, kissing your hair while you listen to his racing heart.

he doesn't say anything after that - he doesn't have to.

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