Long Long Night | Joel Miller Smut

Long Long Night | Joel Miller Smut

summary: "I'm not done with you." or big dick joel miller fucks you hard

warnings: smut! Minors DNI, 18+ only!! penetrative sex, afab!reader, joel calls you baby, rough sex, slight weighted blanket joel <3, dirty talk. Just filth bc im so horny for this guy

a/n: My first joel smut!! It's not long sorry but i just wanted to test the waters and see if i can even write joel smut at all lol. Also I should probably post this tmr bc its late af here but oh well

"J-Joel.."

You moan loudly as his hands grip your hips tightly, his fingertips definitely leaving bruises as he slams your hips back into him.

"Quiet." He groans as he shoves your head into the pillows. Leaning until his hairy chest is against your back. His hips thrust hard against you making you wail.

"So big.." You whine as you claw the sheets.

You love when Joel is rough, when he lets go of all his worries in that pretty head of his and fucks you until the sun comes up. All he could do is smirk, push you against the thin walls of your shitty little apartment and whisper the filthiest things imaginable in your ear.

It's how you ended up on his bed, stripped of your clothes and being destroyed by his cock.

His hands lock with yours as he pushes them deep into the bed. His weight presses you down, forcing you to stay still as he pounds deep into you over and over again. His power and speed never faltering as he bites down hard on your shoulder to muffle his moans. Your hips squirm helplessly he hits a sweet spot. You try to tug your hands from his grip but he doesn't budge.

"Makin' you feel that good baby?" He smiles into your skin.

Your desperate moans only making him want to fuck you harder. His cock stretches your poor pussy with every thrust. Your cunt flutters around his cock as you come hard, you swear you can see stars as you go limp under him.

It becomes apparently very quickly that Joel has no plans on stopping. He sits up on his knees and holds your hips up so he can properly fuck you.

One of his rough fingers slipping down to play with your clit. You jerk out of his grip and lean forward out of instinct. The overstimulation bringing tears to your eyes.

"Fuck!" You cry as he grabs your hips and brings you back.

Sliding his dick in hard until his hips meet your ass. Giving you no time to breathe as he continues to fuck the breath out of you.

"I'm not done with you." He growls. Fucking hell that might be the hottest thing he's ever said to you.

Exhausted you fall onto the bed. Grabbing the pillow above you and burying your face in it as you let Joel use you like a toy. The obscene sounds of your wet cunt is music to his ears.

Leaning down he brushes your cheek softly, cooing in your ear as he slams his hips and stills. His cock throbbing as you squeeze around him.

"So pretty baby, just stay like this for me okay?" He kisses your forehead and you smile tiredly. His hands glide down your body and you sigh happily. Fucked out by his cock and ready for him to do whatever he pleases.

"Gonna fuck you all night long."

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A night in a beautiful meadow and an innocent question leads to a startling confession.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,422

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Literally none. Just an oblivious reader and nervous Din. Fluff rised to the max.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Guy’s, this made me weep with how cute it is. So, just fair warning I guess?

masterlist | read on ao3

Like most things, it started with a simple question.

“Cyar’ika, can you hand me that wrench?”

You were helping Din with some repairs on the Crest when you heard that word for the hundredth time.

As you picked up the tool, your mind wrestled with the wandering thoughts of what that word meant. Din called you that all the time. He’d throw some others in the mix every once in a while.

Mesh’la.

Cyar.

Cyar’ika was the most common, though. You didn’t speak a bit of Mando’a, so you had no clue what he was calling you. He could be calling you the worst thing ever, and you wouldn’t even know. But even with his rough exterior, you highly doubted that he was referring to you as anything too horrible.

With every cyar, mesh’la, or cyar’ika your curiosity grew. But you didn’t voice your questions out of fear that you’d overstep some invisible boundary. You and Din were close—well, as close as the Mandalorian would let himself get to you. He’d told you his true name, so you counted that as progress. He still had so many secrets, though. So you didn’t want to push him to reveal stuff he wasn’t ready for. You would take whatever he’d give you. You would have him, however you could.

But sometimes your interest was almost too much.

Like at daybreak when he would touch your shoulder oh so gently and say, “Good morning, cyar.” In that deep, velvety cadence his voice had in the mornings.

Or when you’d just had a close call on a mission and he would rush to you, frantic, and place his hands on your cheeks. “Are you alright, cyar’ika? Are you hurt?” The words would leave his lips in a hurry and sometimes jumble together. You knew what he was saying nonetheless.

It was those moments when he showed you gentleness, concern, and care that you found it hard not to blurt out everything on your mind.

“What does cyar’ika mean?”

“What does cyar and mesh’la mean?”

“Do you know what it does to me when you touch me?”

“Do you love me as much as I love you?”

But you kept quiet and let the thoughts mingle in your mind. You were just going to leave well enough alone. Hoping that possibly ignoring your curiosity would make it, and your developing feelings fade away. That proved to require arduous effort, which you found yourself lacking day by day. And eventually, your efforts proved to be in vain.

The night it happened, the Crest had landed on some forest planet. Din had just wrapped up a difficult hunt, so he perched the ship on the first globe he could. You and the kid had been cooped up inside for days now, so as soon as the hatch opened, you were both bounding down from the cockpit.

The kid ran into the tall grass of the field, chasing frogs and crickets with the moonlight guiding his expedition. You stood close to the ship, just watching him with a loving smile. Din came to stand beside you, quite as ever, but his presence was a comfort you relished in far too much.

The first blink of light had you curious. The second and third and fourth flashes had you in awe.

The serene meadow was set ablaze with glittering brightness. Fireflies floated high and low, strung about the tall grass like hundreds of flawless silvery stars. They blanketed the grassland far and wide, down to the glimmering lake in the distance.

“Oh wow,” you breathed. You ventured farther out into the plain, turning in a slow circle, absolutely awestruck.

You could hear the child’s gurgling laughter from nearby. You couldn’t help the giggle that erupted from your throat. The dazzling excitement from the whole experience makes you somewhat astounded. You've never seen anything like this before. Something so beautiful.

You face Din, still standing guard at the front of the ship. “Isn’t this spectacular?” You questioned.

You could hear the airy chuckle get past his vocoder. “It’s certainly something.”

You rolled your eyes in a very childish manner and tilted your head in confusion. “How could you think this is anything but…what’s the word for beautiful in Mando’a?”

You’ve caught his full attention now, seemingly catching him off guard. He appears stunned beyond words. Beyond thoughts as well perhaps. You don’t understand why. It was just a simple question, but it seemed to have knocked any rational notion from him.

What you don’t know is that while you look at him with such sincerity in your eyes and you wait slightly nervous for his response, his brain is nothing short of a mess.

“Din,” you begin. “If I’ve crossed a line somehow-”

“The word is mesh’la.”

That stops you short. Your heart thudded to a halt for several seconds as you took in the sudden confession.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat softly.

You have no idea that his knees almost buckle at the sound of your voice speaking in his mother tongue.

Your face heats at the implication. Mesh’la means beautiful. Din calls you Mesh’la. Din calls you beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful? Or was it meant as something like a courtesy? Was he just being a flirt? No, Din wasn’t the type. So he must think it if he calls you it.

“Y/N.”

You speak up before he can get another word out. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He nods. “Yes.”

A grin tugs your lips up ever so slightly. Realization dawns on you as your mind recalls all the affectionate exchanges that you fooled yourself into thinking were merely friendly.

A coo from below takes your attention for a moment. The kid is at your feet with his arms stretched up for you. You hold him in the crook of your elbow as you close the distance between you and Din. When you stop in front of him, a radiant smile is permanently placed upon your lips.

“And uh, cyar’ika,” you whisper. “What does that mean…?” You’re a little hesitant to let all your questions come to light. A small part of you still worried you’re reading too much into it.

He takes a deep breath, and you try to ignore the anxiety coursing through you. “Cyar’ika…” He’s never sounded this breathless before. “It means sweetheart.”

The blood rushes to your cheeks with a new fury, painting your skin scarlet. It terrifies you a little that you can’t see his face, that you can’t read the expressions he is wearing right now. You think you know where this is going, but not being able to sense the situation from the other person makes it hard to be sure. You can see that he’s tense, possibly waiting for you to tell him that you were uncomfortable. But you weren't; you were a nervous wreck, but you were not uncomfortable with this knew information in the slightest. You were trying to figure out how to move forward with this without seeming like a lovesick fool.

After waiting an eternity trying to get a hold of yourself, you make a decision. You slowly bring your hands up to him, gently gliding along his arms until they reach the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then the cool surface of his helmet.

You can feel his panic, but you softly sush him. Eventually, your hands still on the side of his helmet, where you imagine his cheeks would be. You picture them flushed like yours. Even through the impenetrable beskar, you feel like the heat of his skin is melting into yours. You imagine how it would actually feel to be skin to skin with him. If you ever had the privilege to experience that, you were sure you could die happy.

What happens next is a surprise. Din clutches your hands in his and brings them down between you both. He then slowly touches his forehead to yours. The shock of cold metal draws a gasp from your lips.

“Ni ganar hid ner kar'taylir darasuum teh gar par chaaj'yc too munit, cyar’ika.” A whispered admission comes from him.

You can’t help but laugh as you have no clue what he said. “What?”

He chuckles along with you. “I said that I have hidden my love from you for far too long, sweetheart.”

Your heart cracks open with so many emotions that it’s overwhelming. It aches inside you, but the pain is welcome because you’d rather have this, him, than the uncertainty you lived in for so long.

I poured over this for days, and I still feel like something isn't right. But oh well, maybe it'll come to me later. 🤷‍♀️

i’ve talked about this before very briefly…but joel being an older man and having a difficulty coming…

and he’s not trying to overstimulate you. he’s not. he had no intention of making you all teary-eyed from making you orgasm so many times.

joel hushing you gently after each time you come and he keeps fucking you. telling you that its okay, sweetheart. you can take it. you can. 

and you’re practically sobbing. legs splayed wide open, wrapped around his hips. and his cock is soaked. covered in your slick and come. he’s still hard, still throbbing inside you, still sliding in and out of your used hole. and you just have to take it, take him until he finally comes.

LOOK AT WHAT I FUCKING FOUND ON TWITTER

mouthmate. 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 [𝐀𝐈 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐓]

summary. you and Joel have a conversation about make out sessions.

warnings. kind of crack, comedy, funny dumb reader and supportive best friend joel. Please excuse my grammar/punctuation, I’m actually a horrible texter in real life, this is me actually trying lol

— 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

not to be unhinged about mr. din djarin but i feel like he is capital p Patient when it comes to sex. he’s unhurried. he takes his time. i think maybe it probably comes from his bounty hunting skills, he’s used to waiting.

but he’s really good at guidance. at reassurance. even when he has you face down, cheek pressing against pillows, your arms behind your back, wrists caught in his hands as he’s fucking you from behind. the only sign you can tell he’s affected by this is the loud grunts he makes. otherwise he’s calm while you’re whining underneath him, telling him its too much.

din shushing you, telling you that you can take it. he knows you can. you’ve done it before and you’ll do it again for him. you’re being so good for him. taking his cock so well. that you can take more.