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rafeandonlyrafe · 11 months ago

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words: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, crime boss!rafe, (former) stripper!reader, drug dealing, prostitution/sex club, multiple murders, guns, shooting, kidnapping, unprotected p in v sex, tit slapping, male receiving handjob, kind of rough sex? its not that intense idk

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog

rafe stands on the upper balcony, his hands on the railing as he leans to look at the crowd moving below his feet, a mix of grinding and bumping bodies in various states of undress. his eyes search for you. he always searched for you in the crowd, making sure there is a smile on your face, and that there are no grabby hands touching parts of you that are well and solely his.

it wasn’t a crazy leap from what rafe did in his teenage years. moving from selling drugs to running a club. not just any club, of course. rafe called it a loose clothing policy club, but really it was constant sex parties behind the doors, doors that people pay a lot of money to get on the other side of.

he, of course, kept up the lucrative drug business, but passed off the actual sale and deal to some underlings. it may not make him a completely legitimate businessman like his father, but it got him a hell of a lot closer to it, and the money got him a lot more respect as well. among the drug dealers and bartenders in his employ, he also has dancers. dancers who just happen to feel the urge to get on top of the bar and take their clothes off while the crowd cheers.

dancers don’t have to engage in any acts of sexual nature with the guests if they don't want to, but most choose to for the generous tips they give, on top of the wage rafe gives them. except for you. he hired you fresh out of college, with a bachelor's degree in arts that you had nothing you could do with, not while staying in north carolina at least. you were confident and beautiful, but you never went too far with any of the men or women who came into the bar, not until rafe approached you one night.

you’ve been his since. his girl, who he allows out on nights that he’s there to watch over you, not truly trusting even his security to keep you safe, just himself. he knows you like to drink and dance, and he’d never stop you from doing whatever you like to do, even if it means he’s internally seething with jealousy, glaring at every man who looks at you.

“sir.” the voice brings rafe out of his own head, looking over.

“what is it?” he questions, voice gruffer than he means for it to come out.

“one of the dealers wants to talk with you.” he replies. rafe would get upset, he hates being interrupted, but this is one of his best men. “he’s already in your office.”

“fine.” rafe sighs, eyes glancing back over the floor. “watch y/n.” he simply says before walking away, knowing he doesn’t need to get into the specifics of never looking away or letting anyone touch you.

“what do you want, martin?” rafe asks, slamming the door shut behind him, moving his hands to his hips, pushing his suit jacket out of the way, letting the gun that he keeps holstered on his hip be in plain sight, a warning and a reminder.

“i want to talk to you about the cut you’re taking.” martin responds, his eyes wild and crazy, and rafe has no doubt that he’s dipping into the drugs hes supposed to be selling. rafe knows the feeling well, but he got out of all of that once his mind started to lose focus too often, and the drugs got too irresistible.

“the cut i’m taking?” rafe questions. “of the drugs that i supply you?” “there wouldn’t be any money if it weren’t for me selling.” martin responds, his hands twitching on his knees, fingers grimy.

“you think i couldn’t have another seller lined up immediately? i can’t believe you’d bug me with this shit.” rafe groans. he wants to get his eyes back on you, immediately.

“wait!” martin says as rafe turns to the door. rafe has to take a deep breath to not deck him immediately, his hands clenching in a fist. “since you don’t want to give me a cut, i want $100k. for reimbursement.” rafe lets out a barking laugh, shaking his head. “and why would i do that?” “because if you don’t, i’m not gonna let your girl go.” martin says, a sick grin coming to his face. “my associate should be taking her out of the building right now, so it’s 100k or she-”

rafe doesn’t let martin finish his sentence. he doesn’t want to hear what is about to fall out of his gross mouth, he simply raises his gun and shoots him square between the eyes. martin falls to the ground, dead before he even realized that the gun was unholstered.

a group of rafes men rush into the office upon hearing the gunshot, but rafe doesn’t care about the body on the floor. “find y/n! immediately!” he shouts, pushing past all of them to rush down the stairs to the main level.

the club explodes into action, every crevice being searched for you. rafe rushes outside along with his men, eyes searching for anything suspicious, when he sees a black van speeding away. rafe doesn’t question his movements or the implications, raising his gun and shooting at the tire, causing the van to spin to a stop.

rafe runs over as quickly as his legs will carry him, throwing open the back doors of the van, his heart breaking when he sees you looking so small, hands tied together and gag shoved into your mouth, your eyes wide and clothing askew.

“shh, i’m here baby.” rafe says, grabbing you out of the van, undoing your hands carefully and taking the gag out of your mouth.

“rafe!” you sob, hiding your face in his shoulder as he picks you up, holding you against him, rubbing over your back even as his hands shake at the fact that he almost just lost you.

“it’s okay, i’m here.” rafe says, but you just continue to cry into his shirt.

“sir.” one of rafes men says. the one that he tasked to watch you, the one that let you out of his sight, let you get taken. “what do you want us to do with the driver?”

theres another dealer rafe recognizes, kneeling on the street, eyes flicking between rafe and the gun pointed at him. rafe doesn’t care if he could give more information, he hurt his girl, and that means only one fate is meant for him. rafe raises his gun and shoots the dealer himself, before turning it to his own man.

“no! sir, plea-” rafe doesn’t let him finish his sentence. you shudder and keep your face pressed against rafes shirt, knowing that you don’t want to see whatever just happened.

“let this be a lesson on what happens if you ever cross me.” rafe says, addressing his men. “now clean this shit and my office up. i’m taking y/n home. i will get back in touch in the morning.”

rafe doesn’t bother going back inside. he walks straight to his car, setting you down in the passenger seat, sighing sadly when you curl up, rubbing at your wrists.

“i’m so sorry, baby.” rafe says, pressing a kiss to your hair before rounding the car, quickly turning it on and heading towards home.

he takes a deep breath once he’s passed the well secured gate, knowing that you’re more than safe in the walls of his mansion.

“do you want to talk about it?” rafe asks once he gets you inside, and onto the couch, a cup of water in our hand.

“it was just so scary.” you pout, eyes turning downward. “they grabbed me out of the crowd, and shoved that nasty rag in my mouth so i couldn’t scream.”

“i will kill everyone involved.” rafe says, and you know he’s serious. you press your hands to his cheeks, bringing him into a kiss.

“it’s okay.” you whisper. your words won’t stop him, but you want to take some of the guilt away. “i knew you would save me.” “i should have protected you in the first pla-”

“shh.” you interrupt rafe, pressing your lips together again. “can we get in the bath? together? please.” rafe nods, he’d do anything for you, he already had the bathroom ripped out and redone to fit a larger bathtub after he learned how much you love soaking in the warm water.

“let me carry you.” rafe stops you when you try to stand, scooping you into his arms. you look so little again, swallowed up against his big chest. it makes him think of you in that trunk, and he moves faster up the stairs, needing to be curled up against you in the tub, making you feel better.

“choose a bathbomb, honey.” rafe sets you down on the cool tile. “i restocked.”

you hum a nod and look through the cabinet until you find a sparkly white bathbomb. you know rafe would usually complain about you usually using a glittery bathbomb when he was joining you, but today is the one day you can get away with it.

“this one.” you hand it to rafe, who drops it into the tub that he started filling with hot water.

“can i undress you?” rafe questions. you nod, knowing how much he likes to be the one to take your clothes off. he moves so slowly disrobing you, carefully putting your dress in the hamper, that when you’re nude, the bath is filled enough for you to get in.

you sigh happily as the warm water covers your body, watching rafe undress while the drama of the day washes away. it’s become a part of your reality, threats against you or rafe, but this is the most dangerous situation you’ve directly been in yet, and you know rafe needs to relax as much as you do.

rafe slides into the tub behind you, letting you rest against his chest. “you know i can only stand to be with you naked for so long before i’m going to need to take you out of this bath and fuck you.” “i know.” you say, swirling your hands through the sparkly water. “just at least 15 minutes just relaxing before.” “i can do that for you.” rafe says, and you both fall quiet, mind reeling from the day and just needing some rest. your eyes flutter closed, hands softly stroking over rafes thighs on either side of your hips. rafe leans his head against the back of the tub, allowing himself to take a breath.

the water starts to grow cold, and rafe is sure he must have reached the 15 minute mark by now, but you are leaning against him so peacefully he doesn’t want to move you, eyes checking over your wrists, noticing that they’re slightly red, even though you were only tied up for a few short minutes.

you begin to squirm, clearly noticing the cool water.

“baby-” rafe gasps when your bum rubs against his crotch, and you feel him hardening.

you turn around in the tub to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “fuck me, rafe.” rafe stands quickly, grabbing the towel and drying himself off before helping you out of the tub, taking careful consideration to dry you as well, rubbing the soft towel over every inch of your body.

“we are all glittery.” you smile, admiring your shiny skin.

“you’re lucky i love you.” rafe says, making you blush. you know he didn’t take you in just to have sex with you, even if that was the main reason you became his girl at first, but because he had genuinely been interested in you.

“and i’m also lucky you’re going to fuck me.” you giggle, heading into the bedroom and letting yourself flop onto the bed, not caring that the dripping ends of your hair will wet the sheets, not with what you’re about to do on them.

rafe walks slowly out of the bathroom, a feral look in his eyes, a shift happening inside of him, one from taking care of you, making you feel better, to one of needing you, needing to possess you and take you.

you watch as he approaches, climbing onto the bed and slotting his knees on either side of your hips, trapping you underneath him. rafes cock is now fully hardened, standing at attention as his heavy balls weigh down against your skin, clearly needing to be released, and you prefer that release to happen pumped inside of you.

his hands shoot forward to grip your tits, making you moan, his warm palms massaging your sensitive skin, letting your nipples rub against his hands. rafe is often quiet when fucking you, depending on how he is feeling. you can tell by the look in his eye that he’s got anger bubbling up inside of him, that needs a release, and you are here for using.

rafe leans forward, pushing his cock against the smooth skin of your stomach. rafe begins to rub his cock against your skin, letting it glide back and forth, the head of his cock smearing precum as his fingers pinch your nipple before rubbing over them.

he bends down to capture your mouth in a dominant kiss, and you let him take control, his tongue licking into yours, as you moan, arching your back as he grabs your tits hard, making you flinch amongst the pleasure.

rafe pulls away from the kiss, briefly bending to suck on your nipples into his mouth, just to add to the taste of you on his tongue. rafe picks up your hand, laying it over his cock, telling you without words what he wants you to do.

you press your hand down, letting him grind down between your palm and your stomach as his hand draws back and lays a slap across your tit, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you gasp.

you move your free hand to the head of his cock, massaging it with your fingertips as rafe delivers another slap across your skin, before bringing his palm down to your other breast to even out the pain and pleasure.

rafe moans lowly when you swipe the pad of your finger over the slit at the tip of his cock, his hips starting to push faster, which just floods you with wetness, imagining him thrusting inside of you instead of against your stomach.

“please fuck me.” you whine. “make me yours rafe.”

rafe pulls away instantly, moving to kneel between your legs, grabbing your knees and pushing them up, bending you in half. “you’re mine.” rafe says, pushing his cock against your entrance, not even giving you a second to breathe before hes thrusting inside, filling you to the brim. “you’re mine.” he gasps again, beginning to thrust, your sloppy cunt producing wet noises. “no one is going to take you away from me.” you pout, knowing rafe is taking his aggression out right now, but he’s also working through his worry and anxiety about you being kidnapped again.

“i’m right here.” you tell rafe, placing your hands over his, helping him hold your legs up as his cock pushes in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace. “i’m right here.”

rafe lets out a half sob, half moan, wrapping his arms around your legs, needing to feel more of you against his body, even if it just is the back of your thighs and calves as he hugs your legs to him, continuing to push his dick into you, now touching at a new angle that has you crying out.

“rub your clit for me.” rafe grunts, throwing his head back, eyes making contact with the ceiling as he pants, trying to hold back from cumming until you’re ready as well. “need you to cum for me.” “yes, gonna cum for you rafey.” you push your hand between your tightly held together thighs, rubbing at your clit while his cock brutalizes your pussy.

your breath catches in your throat when your legs move slightly to the side, allowing to to see rafes face, chin still tilted slightly upward, his mouth ajar and his eyes glazed over with lust, looking like an angel despite all the devilish acts that he’s done, but everything he’s done today has been for you, and you certainly won’t forget the blood on his hands only there to protect you.

“i love you.” you cry out, tears streaming down your cheeks, your fingers moving faster on your clit, needing to cum for rafe and rafe alone, not caring about the pleasure you’re going to receive yourself, just getting yourself off so rafe can feel your cunt squeeze around him, so he can release inside of you.

“i love you more baby.” rafes voice is hoarse as his hips snap into you, a loud slap every time his hips touch your skin.

you let out a scream when your orgasm hits you suddenly, entire body tightening as rafe releases inside of you, your cunt pulsating as you slow your rub on your clit, milking everything out of rafe that he has to offer.

“fuck.” rafe sighs out, a coy look on his face as he lowers your legs down, rubbing over your thighs to make up for the position he put you in as he slowly slides his cock out of you.

rafe moves carefully to lay down next to you, not just wanting to flop down, considerate of his movements when you’re around anyways, but especially since you just went through something traumatic.

“come here.” rafe reaches out for you, and you slide into his embrace, your head coming to rest on his chest.

“you know you’re going to have to stay here in the house for a few days while i get this mess sorted out?” rafe asks, but it’s more of a statement.

“i know.” you say. it’s not like you’re happy about being locked up, but it’s for your safety. “i’m sorry.” rafe sighs. “when all of this is over, i’ll take you on a nice long vacation-”

“i’m not mad.” you say, picking your head up to look at rafe. “i knew exactly what i was getting into with you, with your business. i understand. you don’t have to apologize for keeping me safe.”

rafe smiles at you, his thumb rubbing over your cheek, wondering how he managed to get such a perfect girl before bringing you in for a kiss.

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noxturnalnymph · 6 months ago

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Devotion 🖤 III. Path to the Future (Ch 9)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

III. Path to the Future

CH 9 (6k) “She left.”

The words ring in his ears, drowning out the cacophony of multiple things happening all at once. He’s trying to throw a jacket and shoes on while Tess is grabbing at him and begging him to wait until first light. He’s grabbing at Danny and demanding to know everything while Diego wails, apologizing that they didn’t look after you enough. The noise brings the other women downstairs and they all shout over each other, some arguing Joel should wait for a search party to be formed and some saying they’ll go with him and should leave right now.

In the end, Joel acquiesces to Tess, not wanting to ignore her heartfelt pleading after the hours they just spent commiserating together. He waits until first light to leave with Danny, Diego, and Sasha in tow. He orders Danny and Diego to ride their mounts to the east and west, climbing opposite peaks on either side of the valley to look for any sign of you. He sends Sasha north along the valley to look for the same and orders everyone to send up smoke signals if they see anything and to meet back at the house no later than sundown. But he knows all of those efforts will be fruitless.

He already knows that you wouldn’t bother coming back through the town when your goal was clearly to get as far away from him as possible. You would have left the farm and continued south, which is the direction he goes. As Sasha stuffs snacks and canteens in everyone’s packs before they split up, she repeats Joel’s words back to him several times, meet back here by sundown, but by the look on her face she already knows what he does, that he won’t be back until he’s found you.

---

Joel watched for smoke signals behind him all day until the sun began to sink below the treeline, making it impossible for him to see anything short of flares, which he knew they didn’t have. He figured he’d be the first one to see signs of you anyways, which he did eventually. The next town south in the valley was about a four hour walk and while he knew you’d probably never been through there, it was well picked over by his people and had been free of infected every time he’d been there.

He thought you’d be cautious and avoid the town, his hunch confirmed when he made his way up the gentle slope just north of the town and saw the footprints you’d left. The spring sun had melted the snow and left the ground muddy, and when you’d come through here late last night you most likely hadn’t even thought about covering your tracks. But now he knows he chose the right direction, and he pushes forward along the ridge, following the breadcrumbs you unknowingly left for him.

Joel follows your tracks along the river - just beside the interstate - noticing you keep to the treeline instead of traveling along the roadway, which has better footing but would leave you exposed. You also head east, which is the opposite direction of the bigger mountain range and also away from the state’s most populated city. You’re avoiding overexertion and big-cities. Maybe you do have some survival instincts after all.

He nearly loses your tracks mid-afternoon when you veer away from the river at another city but takes a gamble and catches signs of you again along the road leading towards the New Hampshire border. You’re not looking for populated areas here, there isn’t even any evidence you’ve stopped anywhere along the way. He assumes you’ve already got a destination in mind and are focused on heading there.

Long after sunset Joel finally decides to find a place to lie down for a while. He lays there in the dark and tries not to think about how worried Tess must be since he never came back, or how you’re somewhere out here too - all alone in the cold darkness. He knows this is all his fuckin’ fault. What a mess he’s made. He actually convinced himself that he was helping people, that he was saving them. He let himself believe them when they told him what a good man he was, a protector and a provider.

He falls into a fitful sleep and when he awakes a short time later he decides to forgo any further attempts at rest and continue on your trail. He hopes you spent more time with your eyes closed than he did and he can make up some ground on the head start you got. He follows your winding trail along the woods’ edge, through overgrown fields, around a quarry, and over creeks, all avoiding any majorly populated areas.

The only time you leave yourself exposed is through an hours-long stretch going through a wooded valley, where walking the roadway is your solitary option to avoid climbing up and down the rocky hills on either side of the pavement. By his calculations you probably traveled this section last night while he attempted sleep, which would have made your trek along the road a more protected position than he is currently in, trudging though the early morning hours and into the rising sun.

He hikes on through the morning, thinking over and over in his head what he’ll say to you when he finds you, and eats the last of his packed food around noon. He knows he can refill his canteen in the river just ahead, which creates the border of Vermont and New Hampshire. He also knows there’s a major city if he continues on his path and knows that’s the reason your tracks start to head south into what his map tells him is a wide forest.

This might be good he thinks, since he’s been hiking for nearly 30 hours and only slept a handful of them. He knows he could use a shady and secure place to take a nap. He waits until he’s about an hour’s hike from the last farm he passed before he walks off the trail to find somewhere to rest. Keeping the road just in sight, he walks straight through the woods and over a brook, finding a soft collection of last autumn's fallen leaves on which to rest his head. With the bird songs in his ear and the soft rustle of trees above him, sleep quickly overtakes him.

He jolts awake, a sound skimming his senses and alerting him to danger. He lies there, statue-still, and tries to listen past the woosh of the pumping blood in his ears, taking deep breaths to slow his thumping heartbeat. It’s dark here in the thick trees and the sun is low in the sky. He must have slept most of the afternoon away but he can tell it’s not evening yet. Suddenly Joel realizes it’s not a sound that woke him but the lack of sound. There are no birds singing, no insects buzzing, just the eerie sound of the branches creaking and the new spring leaves dancing on their boughs.

He slowly sits up - weapon in hand and his head on a swivel - trying to listen for the clues that nature around him has already picked up on. A predator is nearby. Infected wouldn’t be this quiet, they’re mindless and insatiable and only care about one thing. This is either a large animal or a human. He actually finds himself hoping to catch sight of a black bear as opposed to the alternative.

Before he can get up from his sleeping position he hears quick footsteps behind him and a blunt crack to the back of his head, the pain radiating across his skull. He slumps forward and groans in pain, his hands loosening around his gun. He hears footsteps move around the front of him and feels his rifle being snatched out of his slackened grasp. A foot kicks at his torso and he groans again.

“He’s not out, you gotta hit him again,” he hears you say above him.

No, it can’t be you. There’s no way.

“I’m not getting near him again, you said he was dangerous,” he hears a male voice behind him say.

You’re goddamn right he’s dangerous, and as soon as his head stops pounding he’s going to-

A second thump, this time on the side of his head, is the last thing he feels before everything goes black.

---

Joel doesn’t gain consciousness quickly, like coming up for air after being underwater. Instead it comes back in waves, just a few words here and there, a musty smell, the familiar sound of your voice, the beam of a flashlight hitting his eyelids. He’s trying to make sense of it but it’s all jumbled up and he’s not sure how to put the pieces together. He tries to sort out his thoughts bit by bit, every time he’s conscious he tries to figure one thing out and hold it in his mind, to remember it before he passes out again.

He knows he’s in a chair, he can hear murmured echos so he imagines the room is large, but the soft sounds of crickets outside tell him there's at least one window nearby. He knows he’s tied up, he can feel bindings wrapped around him and his arms are pinned behind his back. He knows he’s been relieved of his guns, the usual weights at his hip and ankle not present. When he’s finally able to stay awake for long enough to string a coherent thought together, he decides to open one eye for a peek at his surroundings.

He’s in a very large and long room - wooden tables and chairs scattered around - creating a maze of objects between him and five figures standing on the opposite end of the room. It’s dark - he’s been out for a while - and he can’t make out their faces or their conversations but he can see that two are tall and three are shorter. He thinks at least one of them is a woman. Could it be you? He thought he’d heard your voice.

Unable to hear any actual words amidst the murmur of conversation, Joel looks around again, trying not to move his head so he still appears unconscious. Divided windows line both sides of the building, moonlight pouring in from what he imagines is the south side and reflecting off the stark white rafters above him. He takes in the amount of chairs and tables in front of him and although he can’t turn his head, he would wager money there’s a kitchen behind him. If he had to guess where he was he’d say this was probably an old summer camp’s dining hall, the craftsman style construction pointing to a mid-century build.

He hears shuffling and sees two of the figures crossing the room towards him so he shuts his eyes and pretends to be unconscious again. Around tables and chairs he hears their soft footsteps, he’s still out muttered by a deep, gruff voice. He hears the footsteps stop just in front of him and feels a couple pokes to his chest. He does his best to play possum until he hears your voice - definitely your voice - shouting from across the room.

“You better make sure you double check him for weapons.”

“You already told us that three fuckin’ times,�� a nasally voice with a southern twang shouts back.

A different, deeper voice says to quit hollerin’, then there’s a short back and forth between the two men in front of him filled with curse words while he hears stomping feet making their way over from the other side of the room. He hears your voice again but this time all three of you are cussing in hissed whispers, the most prominent phrase being fuck you, and he can’t take it anymore. He lifts his head up and stares right into your eyes.

“Oh fuck,” a tall asshole with the deep voice says, raising a pistol in front of him aimed right at Joel’s face.

“I told you,” you say.

Even in the dark Joel can see purple bruising around your left eye and a split in your lip, still oozing wetness. That’s a fresh wound.

“Shut up, whore,” a nasally twat that might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet barks at you.

Okay, Joel thinks, he’s gonna snap this rude twig in half first for talking to you like that. Did he give you those marks on your face?

“Quit fuckin’ callin’ her that,” the tall one elbows the twig and then pulls you into his grasp.

He watches you break eye contact with him as you wrap your arms around the giant’s middle - seriously, this guy must be nearly seven feet tall - burying your face in the center of his torso. He hears your muffled voice say I told you he’d come for me into his dirty sweatshirt as his free hand moves down your side and squeezes your hip. Change of plans. The big fucker dies first.

The other two people make their way across the room as String Bean grabs a knife off his hip, which Joel recognizes as the knife he put on his own hip when he left the house yesterday morning. He watches this idiot flick it around in front of him like some kind of hillbilly ninja, the knife glinting in the moonlight. It’s pathetic but it’s the only thing keeping him from boring holes into the back of your head as you remain clutched to that big oaf like a goddamn koala bear. He subtly tests the ropes used to tie him to the chair.

The two that join the group are a chubby guy maybe five and half feet tall, and a girl just a bit shorter than him, both of whom look to be teenagers. The tall one tucks the gun into his waistband and they all engage in a terrible exercise of whispering, pointing back and forth. Joel knows he’s half-deaf in one ear but they know they’re talking about him right in front of him, right? From what he can surmise, the two younger ones are a couple, and the girl’s big brother is the tall guy you’re climbing like a tree. He’s not sure how the scrawny one fits into the equation or how you got mixed up in this. Do you know these people?

“So are we gonna get rid of him, or what?” Skinny asks.

“That’s not part of the plan,” you snap, pointing your finger in his face.

Joel watches him slap your finger away and then get pushed by the big guy before all of you devolve into loud whispers again, cursing and hissing. This is getting very old very quickly. He tests the ropes again, flexing his arms and chest against them. He’s tied pretty tight with more than one length of rope. Jesus, what did you tell them, that he was Houdini? The bickering still hasn’t stopped so Joel clears his throat and the noise finally ceases, everyone turning to stare at him. Except you. You won’t meet his eyes.

Just like old times.

“You ready to get the fuck outta here, baby?” he says, looking right at you.

He watches everyone else’s face swivel to look at you. You tilt your head slightly and meet his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, asshole,” you twist your last word like a knife into his gut.

He watches Big Guy snake his arms around your middle from behind, drawing you back to his chest. Who the fuck does this jerkoff think he is putting his hands on you? And why don’t you seem to mind? Skinny points at Joel and starts to get mouthy but Big Guy lets you go and drags Skinny and Chubby away from the group and behind Joel, leaving you and the girl alone in front of him. He figures this is as good an opportunity as ever.

“PJ, I’m sorry-”

“Fuckin’ save it, Joel,” you hiss.

“Seriously though, what are we gonna do now?” Girl asks you, side-eyeing him.

“What do you mean? This doesn’t change the plan at all,” you say with confidence.

“You said he’d kill us,” Girl whispers loudly.

He watches your face as you pull her away from him but you don’t look back to meet his eyes. Your face is passive, giving nothing away. You told these people he would kill them? Why would you say that? You’ve never seen him kill anyone. You’ve probably never even heard about the terrible things he’s done. Of course he’s killed people, but so has everyone. He thinks you might have even had to do your fair share to survive. But why would you tell these people he’s a killer?

All three boys come around from behind Joel, Skinny stomping around with a large folded up paper in his hand. He shoves it in Joel’s face and points to it forcefully.

“Show us where you came from,” Skinny says.

Joel sees the paper is the map of the state of Vermont he’d been traveling with. Luckily nothing on it is marked, so there’s no indication where the Valley might be.

“He’s not gonna-” you start.

“Slut,” Skinny snarls. “You really need to learn when to shut the fuck up.”

“No she’s right,” Joel says, drawing Skinny’s attention back to him. “I’m not gonna tell you shit.”

Skinny opens his mouth to protest but you speak first.

“I told you I know how to get there, we don’t need a map,” you sigh.

“I don’t fuckin’ trust you!” Skinny whines, turning around to throw a mock punch in your face. You wince.

“You need to calm down,” Big Guy hums at his rageful companion, pulling you towards him again and away from Skinny’s reach. “She told us she’d get us there and it’s in her best interest not to fuck us over.”

Joel doesn’t miss the way Big Guy’s hand tightens around your arm when he says it’s in your best interest to cooperate.

“We been on the road for nearly two fuckin’ weeks and I’m gonna be real fuckin’ pissed if this little whore is jerkin’ us around,” Skinny hisses.

“I’m not,” you say, looking up at Big Guy.

“I hope not, ‘cause we’re really hungry,” Girl says.

“Yeah,” Chubby agrees.

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” Skinny snaps, pointing a crooked finger in the girl’s face. “You ate your weight in pickles this morning. Besides, your fat ass could go another week without food.”

This time Big Guy has had enough. He yanks you to his left by your arm and steps towards Skinny, right arm pulled back and threatening a punch. Skinny jumps back, arms in front protecting his face and starts muttering apologies, saying he was just kidding, avoiding the punch Joel isn’t sure Big Guy even intended to throw. Maybe he’s more bark than he is bite. However, he thinks Skinny is exactly as much bite as he seems to be, no impulse control and a violent streak, and most likely the one who gave you those bruises. Joel can’t wait to kill these idiots and save you from them, then bring you back home where you belong.

“It’s late and it’s been a long day, we all need some rest if we’re gonna make the long trek tomorrow,” Big Guy says.

Joel thinks that it seems like Big Guy is the brains of this little operation, watching as he orders the young couple to sleep on the opposite side of the room where they can guard the doors. He tells Skinny to take first watch of Joel - who he refers to as the old guy - and then mumbles something to you about keeping you close before dragging you back into the kitchen behind Joel’s back.

---

It’s a muffled sound Joel hears at first but he’d know it anywhere, your soft sighs. He never thought when he heard you making those sounds again that he’d be so fucking pissed off. What is that fucker doing to you? He tests the ropes a third time, wishing he could reach into the back of his pants where he keeps a second knife tucked away, a small one clipped to his boxers for emergencies. Emergencies like this.

Skinny sits in a chair just across from Joel, about five feet away, watching him with a shit-eating grin on his face. If this idiot closes his eyes for a few minutes Joel thinks he can try and go for his knife. He’d be able to cut his bindings and start eliminating these morons one-by-one. But Skinny hasn’t closed his eyes. And you’re behind him with Big Guy right now, making gentle moaning noises. He needs to get free now.

“Ya hear that?” Skinny asks, smiling. Joel doesn’t answer. “He’s gonna dick your girl down real good.”

Joel feels his face heat, his ears burning while he clenches his teeth to avoid letting go of the growl that wants to escape his throat.

“She told us all about you, ya know?” Skinny sneers.

“Oh, did she?” Joel scoffs.

“She sure did,” He whistles. “She sang quite the song. Said you have the biggest stockpile of shit she’s ever seen, and you have all these fuckin’ people doin’ your bidding.”

Joel tries not to let surprise paint his features. You little shit. You told this jerkoff about the town, about all the food and supplies, about him and his flock? What did he do to you to make you confess all that? It’s fine, he’ll just play dumb, convince him you lied.

“That sounds pretty nice,” Joel muses, nodding his head slowly.

“Yeah, that’s what we thought,” Skinny laughs.

“Almost sounds too good to be true.”

“Does it?”

“Come on kid, it’s been ten years since the fuckin’ world ended,” Joel drawls, a smile on his face. “No one is livin’ like that. We’re all just scrounging for our next meal.”

“Yeah… she said you’d say that.”

“One thing you should know about her?” Joel’s smile disappears. “She’s a lying little bitch.”

“Well she’s certainly a bitch,” Skinny huffs. “...’cept I’m starting to think maybe she ain’t lyin’. She told us you’d follow her, and you did.”

“Oh? What else did she say?”

“She told us you’d have a hidden gun on your ankle, and you did.”

“Interesting,” Joel hums, the reminder that they took all his guns creating a renewed anger at his current situation.

“And she told us you’d lie your ass off to keep us from raiding your shit,” Skinny laughs. “And here you are, tryin’ to lie to me.”

“I thought you didn’t trust her,” Joel mocks.

“I trust you even less, old man.”

Joel settles back in his chair, flexing to test the bindings again as he hears wet noises coming from behind him. He hears a low grunting, what he assumes to be that tall fucker getting off with his fucking woman. He lets the growl rumble in his chest now, hoping it’ll drown out the sounds behind him and quell his murderous rage. Skinny makes a grating noise that could be a laugh. Joel stares at a dark knot in the hardwood floor and imagines wrapping his hands around Skinny’s stick neck.

“Sounds like yer girl isn’t yer girl anymore, don’t it?”

---

12 hours earlier…

You knew that you’d been hiking for over a day, although there was no real way for you to keep time. You left the farm at sunset and now the sun was rising on your second day. You tried to do a lot of your walking at night, pushing aside the childlike notion that the dark was scary while also trying to ignore the very real threat of actual monsters. Scary as it was, you knew that logically, you would at least hear clickers coming. It's more dangerous to be quietly stalked if seen by humans in the daylight. Still, you kept to the trees for most of your trek and even climbed one for a quick nap the first afternoon.

You weren’t sure if anyone was after you but figured there was a pretty good chance Joel would send out a search party once he heard, so keeping a steady pace and stopping as infrequently as possible were your main priorities. You thought you would outsmart him by heading away from the populated areas or outrun him by walking almost non-stop until you hit the ocean. You didn’t risk stealing a map from Hank’s shelves but you stared at it for long enough to memorize the route numbers you’d need to take, even making up a song to fit them into so they’d stick in your mind.

So now you were just next to Highway ninety one, which - according to your rhyming song - takes you south to Lebanon. You spot the sun shining off ripples of water through a brief clearing in the trees and decide to fill your canteen away from the more exposed river, heading to what ends up being a serene lake surrounded by a thick forest. It’s gorgeous here. The sun is shining and keeping you warmer than the crisp spring air would otherwise allow. The landscape glows green, finally coming back to life after a long winter.

This place reminds you of the lake you’d swam in during the summer camp you went to five years in a row as a child. Grab a swimming buddy, plug your nose, and jump in. God, you were fearless in those days. It's too cold to swim now but you wouldn’t anyways, not all by yourself. You walk the perimeter until you find a dock that will take you far enough away from shore to get some clear water without vegetation mixed in. Not that eating a little grass would kill you, but you’d prefer your water to just be water and not a salad.

God, you could go for a salad right now. Rosie made the best salads with a homemade vinaigrette that rivaled any dressing you’d had before the world ended. Why were you thinking of that now, of Joel’s house? You shouldn’t be thinking of that. Or of him. Fuck him. You were far away from him now, having finally escaped. You were staring out over the gentle ripples of a beautiful lake on a peaceful morning all alone. Enjoy this moment, you earned it, you tell yourself. You stand up and twist the lid closed on your canteen, stuff it into your pack and turn around.

Only you’re not alone.

There is a man at the end of the dock blocking your path.

Shit.

The fear starts to grip you, its icy tendrils shooting up your limbs and threatening to seize your rapidly beating heart in its grasp. No, you can’t freeze now, you have to keep your wits about you, you have to get yourself out of this situation. Making mental calculations as quickly as you can, you take off running down the old wooden dock, towards the shore, towards him.

Surprised by your sudden movement, the man takes a couple steps forwards on the dock, planning to take up even more space on your path. A few more steps and you’re within spitting distance from him. You see his arms come out in front of him to grab you. You quickly turn and leap off the dock, landing in the shallow water by the shore several feet away. You use your paltry headstart to your advantage and take off running along the shore.

You turn your head to look back and you see him, stumbling over his own long legs, having tripped and fallen into the shallow water. Relief bubbles up inside you like a percolating kettle, warming your insides and making you feel almost buoyant. You’re still looking backwards which is why you don’t see the six-foot-plus wall of man in front of you. Not until you smash into him and turn your head back, finding that his chest fills your entire field of vision. The pungent smell of his body odor stings your nose, nausea washing over you.

He twists you around so your back is to his chest and two anaconda arms wrap around your torso, squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You see the other man coming closer, soaking wet but laughing his fuckin’ head off, a mouth half-full of crooked, rotting teeth. He’s more of a boy than a man, now that you can see him closer. Probably early 20’s and around six feet tall. With his clothes soaking wet you can see how skinny he is, hardly any meat on his lanky frame. A nasal twang comes out of his voice between sputters and chuckles.

“You- You thought you were real slick back there, didn’t ya, bitch?”

“She gave you the fuckin’ slip, Roy,” a deep voice huffs above your head. “She woulda gotten away if I wasn’t here.”

“Whatever,” Roy mutters. “Shut up.”

---

You were practically carried around the lake until you arrived at an old summer camp, a worn wooden sign calling “Aloha” to its campers. Pulled inside a small white building, you’re tied to a chair by Roy - still dripping wet - in what looks like a space once used for arts and crafts. You see the really tall smelly guy and two shorter kids - one boy and one girl - going through your backpack, pulling out the food you’d stolen from the Mansfield’s root cellar. They’ve already eaten half of a jar of pickles by the time the ropes are secured around you tightly.

Roy strips off his wet coat and joins the group, prying open a container of applesauce and greedily drinking it straight from the mouth of the jar. You hear the girl offer the tall guy a wrapped up parcel and she calls him Mike. You watch Mike open your package of homemade smoked jerky that you were saving for later on your trip and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. He looks over at you, catching you watching them, and holds it up above everyone’s heads.

“Where’d you get this?” he asks.

“I found it,” you whisper, your voice hoarse due to your too-tight restraints.

You don’t even have time to process the fist that Roy throws at your face until after it lands. You feel his knuckles hit the edge of your left orbital bone and slide into your eyeball, sharp pain shooting around your skull and straight back through your eye. You cry out and tears spring to your eyes, pouring even harder out of your left eye, which you can’t open. Your chest tries to heave with sobs as you hiccup, struggling to take deep breaths against the bindings. You hear Roy’s piercing voice over you.

“...so stop lying if you don’t want another one,” he finishes, flecks of applesauce flying out of his mouth to hit your face.

“I- I ca-, I can’t-,” you feel a tightness in your chest and you worry you’re going to start panicking, the blinding pain and the reality of your current situation hitting you simultaneously. This is bad. You’re sputtering. “I c- can’t b- b- breathe.”

Roy completely ignores your tears and your pleading, tipping the applesauce jar to his face and drinking down more of it.

Pain spreads across your chest like a white hot heat, quickly becoming all you can think about, even pushing the throbbing in your eye to the back of your mind. You continue to gasp and choke, breathlessly begging anyone who’ll listen, but unable to focus on any faces. It feels like your body is being crushed, like you’ve been buried alive, every breath you can’t take in fully is another bucket of dirt thrown on top of you. The bindings across your chest seem to get tighter and tighter, the ringing in your ears growing louder.

Finally relief is delivered when you realize the young girl is at your side, her hand on your shoulder and a knife in her hand. The pressure is gone. She’s cut the ropes away from you, leaving you to take the deep lungfuls of the air you need to calm yourself down.

She pats your shoulder to reassure you before Roy - realizing what she’s done - drops the jar of applesauce to the floor. Ignoring the shatter of the glass jar and the splatter of the rest of the applesauce all over the floor, Roy grabs her by her hair, causing her to yelp in pain. He begins to scream in her face, calling her every name in the book before a massive hand is pushing a pistol into his temple. The tall guy, Mike, shoves the gun so forcefully into Roy’s head that it pushes him to the side, away from the girl. He lets go of her and stumbles back a few feet.

“Don’t you ever put your hands on my fucking sister,” Mike says.

Sister? This is good. This is very good. If Mike is willing to protect his sister from Roy then he could be willing to protect you too. You watch the girl run to the third young man’s arms, his face still covered in baby fat. You watch as he kisses her cheeks, petting her hair and telling her everything is okay as tears spring from her eyes. Once Roy has calmed down Mike lowers the gun, uncocking the hammer, and looks to you. He raises his other hand, still holding the package of jerky.

“Where’d you get this?” he asks again.

You look around, surveying the faces of his companions, each of them looking at you expectantly. They look weary. They look hungry. Looking in Mike’s eyes last, you see his deep blue eyes under heavy lids looking at you. They look like kind eyes. His floppy haircut curls up at his ears, giving him a youthful appearance but you’d guess his age was close to thirty. He seems quiet. He seems safe. You hope you’re not fucking wrong about this one.

“I can take you there,” you squeak, sounding as meek as possible. “There’s a lot more where that came from. They’d let us stay as long as we wanted. We’d be safe there, well fed... I can help you.”

“He asked you where, cunt” Roy snaps as he moves forward, his rage restored.

“I know how to get there, it’s a day’s hike away from here. I can take-”

You feel a whoosh of air right before the crack of his bony palm hits your face. Unrestrained, you fly off the chair and land crumpled on the floor, barely catching yourself. Roy has slapped you. God, it fucking hurts. Roy steps up to you and bends over your folded frame, shouting obscenities down at you before he’s elbowed out of the way by Mike. He must have put down the jerky because he reaches out to you with both hands, practically picking you up off the floor like a child. Instinctively you grab onto his arms and once on your feet, wrap yourself around him, drawing your face into his chest.

Ignoring the pungent smell wafting off him, you lick at the wetness on your face, salty tears and metallic blood. Blood? Fuck, your lip is throbbing. You touch your tongue to your lip and the source seems to be a split in your bottom lip. That fucker has hit you twice now. You wish he’d fucking choked on that applesauce he guzzled down like he owned it. You cling to Mike even after you’ve calmed down, raising your eyes to meet his, hoping your gamble pays off.

“If you help me, Mike, I can help you,” you whisper - just loud enough so only he can hear you.

His ocean eyes scan your face, no doubt looking for hints of deception. It’s hard to trust others in this world, you know that better than anyone. He looks for long enough that you hear Roy call out ‘what’s she sayin’?’ over his shoulder. He looks back at Roy, then over to his sister, and then back at you. He nods his head.

🖤

I miss you Iris 💐 Thank you for helping with this series. Thank you so much to my bestie Bug for helping me edit this. ILYSM.

🚨GOING FORWARD I WILL NOT BE USING TAG LISTS - THEY DON'T EVEN WORK HALF THE TIME. PLEASE FOLLOW AND TURN ON NOTIFS FOR @nox-notifs AS I WILL POST *FIC UPDATES ONLY* THERE.🚨

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads @blvckmvgicwoman

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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tatiejosie · 5 months ago

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Look imma be real with you, Invincible fandom... I know that we were blessed with not just one or two, but three milfication of our favourite meow meows,, And I'm forever grateful for that

But,, I'm so sad about the charadesign for Cecil and Donald's female counterparts... They really went for the girly girl/north american type shit here

w h y ??

Bestie, the whole concept of a genderbend is that the character stays the same and just has the opposite sex - while Cecil could probably have a bit of a stylish thing going on, Donald is a soldier in a suit. Everything about that man's appearance is that he is as blank as can be.

He's supposed to blend in with his surroundings, to be easily forgotten about. His haircut is a practical, military-grade one. The lack of any accessories (outside of the glasses) is a practical decision as well. He was built in a way that makes him look like a disposable item to the GDA. He doesn't have a complex character design for a reason - because he's not his own person anymore, he's not meant to last. His blankness, both in attitude and in appearance, is a mirror to what he is - an asset to the GDA, and Cecil's shadow.

So why is his genderbend version wearing fucking jewerlly?? Why is she wearing a bright pink jacket???? Is fem!Donald not a cyborg? What is her past like? She seems as protective and jumpy as male!Donald, so I would assume that they're actual counterparts.

It's important to note that neither Cecil nor Donald have any kind of coquettish side to them. They dress for their job and don't care for their appearance, as long as it's professional and practical. So I don't understand why they just dumped that on their genderbends for no reason.

Donald is always up and ready to throw hands and he looks like he would do so - is that the case for his female counterpart? No. Her outfit is more of an inactive office-worker attire than a trained soldier. The jewellry would not be comfortable either, so would the hair (not even tied up) getting into her face.

,, All I'm offering is a soft butch Donna with a similarly short haircut. Maybe not a buzzcut because women of that age still want a little bit of feminity going on. NO jewerly outside of maybe a tiny, discreet tungsten earring.

I'm so sorry i'm 2AM i should go to sleep but i hadvd so much to say abt the potential of genderbending charadesign in media

one last thing: Cecil is a gender neutral name. diversity wins

#invincible #invincible show #invincible fanart #cecil stedman #donald ferguson #invincible s2e2 #genderbend #character design #you thought you were just having regular redesign of Donna as a soft butch. well tough shit. here goes some xanax-fueled ranting #Cecil is hard femme and Donna is soft butch send tweet

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nathanbatemanfucker · 4 months ago

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Mellow Embers: The Kindling

summary: takin’ our time, let the world turn.

pairing: no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS, eventual smut (in pt. ii), internal angst if you squint, impatient!reader, joel being a balm to the rushing soul & a lovely (modern but still a little traditional) southern man, unkmowingly insecure!joel, first date, kissing

wc: 2,604

an: a song based fic that inspired this concept! everyone say thank you kacey musgraves <3. perhaps…perhaps i am back. i hope to be, pls be patient with me.

misc. masterlist | the crescendo (pt. ii)

Quick, fast, and in a hurry.

That’s the mantra you always lived your life by, passed down from generation to generation. Raised in the most independent hoard of women, you were taught that you didn’t have a choice. You have to work hard, diligently, fast in order to get things done. There is no sulking, no thinking, no waiting. If you want something done, you’ll do it yourself and you’ll do it with a brisk ease. Everything in life is a task– even finding someone you want to spend your life with.

While you have some hesitancy about putting the petal to the metal when it comes to love–what with the failed marriages of your mother, and her mother and mother– you know no other way. You know no other way, until you met Joel Miller.

Joel trudges into your bar one night and you can’t take your eyes off of him. His eyes are a warm brown that rivals the shine of amber, his jacket a bit dusty, his hair a little wild. He’s moving a bit slowly, rubbing at his back when he takes a seat on the stool a couple strides down the bar from you. You wrap things up with the patron in front of you, sliding their food order down the bar to a runner before making your way to this mystery man.

You lean over the bar with a cheeky grin, pushing your cleavage together, “What can I get you? It's on the house.”

“Whiskey, a double. It ain’t good manners not to pay,” He murmurs, throwing down a couple bills.

Your interest is further piqued. What’s a southern man like him doing in a place up so north? You wonder where he’s from, what his life was like before coming to live in a city such as this one.

“Isn’t it rude to refuse good hospitality?”

He shrugs, the tiniest smile on his face, “I personally like to take my flirtin’ a little slower.”

You tilt your head, raising a brow at him, “But not your conclusion jumping? Who says I was flirting?”

“You’re not very good at being discreet about your stare, sweetheart.”

Your face grows extremely hot, and for a moment you open your mouth to give him a rebuttal but soon close it once you realize you don’t have one. Instead, you murmur something about his drink and turn away to fetch a glass and a bottle of whiskey. When you return, your pour is fast. You’d been eager to talk to him and now you couldn’t be more eager to get away.

The man leans across the bar, as he takes the drink from your hand, careful not to touch you. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to be. Can I get you anything else?” The words fly out of your mouth, almost slurring together with how quickly you say them.

“You just can’t slow down, can you there, honey?” His tone isn't unkind or condescending, just observant. You find yourself growing defensive anyway.

“It's a bar, it comes with the territory.”

“So does the quick flirtin’?”

“I know what I want and I go after it. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Doesn’t give you much time to appreciate things,” He says thoughtfully.

“Right.”

“I’m interested, darlin’. I am. But let’s take our feet off the gas. I’m Joel,” He introduces himself, holding a hand out to you.

You take it, unable to look away from his warm, inviting eyes despite his hesitancy. And that was the simple, slow start of you and Joel.

Syrupy slow. Thick as molasses.

—

It takes weeks for Joel to ask you on a proper date. He’s said he was interested, and clearly was by how often he frequented the bar you work at. He’d order the same double, sit at your end of the bar, and then the two of you would chat between patrons. He’s charming and hilarious, and so godly fucking slow at dating. If it wasn’t endearing, if he wasn’t so handsome you wouldn’t give him the time of day.

It’s nearing the end of the third week you two have done this but it’s Friday, and tonight Joel stays until your shift is over so he can walk you to your car. He even helps you clean once all the other patrons are out, wiping down the bar for you as you finish loading glasses in the dishwasher.

The summer air is a little chilly once you two exit the bar, and Joel notices the way you shiver in your tiny little top— the one that shows cleavage that he tries to be conscious of, that he tries not to look at. He’s successful…most of the time.

“S’a little dusty, but here,” He murmurs, shrugging out of the jacket he’s wearing, gently draping it around your shoulder.

It’s shit like this that keeps your heart so tender for a man you haven’t even held hands with. You’ve wondered if it’s just his southern charm, or if someone before you had hurt him and made him more mindful of the way he pursues women.

His gesture has your heart fluttering, palms growing slick like you’re back in high school, having your first date with Nathan from second period. Sometimes you think about what your family might say about Joel. That he’s too traditional, that he probably wants you barefoot and pregnant in his kitchen, a ring on your hand. But, you don’t get that vibe from him. You think that maybe he just wants to treat you well, and maybe you finally think you deserve something like that. Even if it’s moving much slower than you would prefer.

“Thank you, Joel,” You say, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

Something about Joel and his soft, slow intensity is different than anything you've ever had before. Once to your car, you start to slip out of his jacket but he shakes his head.

“Keep it, darlin’. I’ll come get it tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Wondered if I could take you out to dinner tomorrow since you're off.”

“Finally,” You huff playfully, grinning at him.

If you’re not mistaken, Joel blushes, scratching the nape of his neck. “Alright, alright, don't you start now.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time. You know we could do breakfast instead— or lunch,” You suggest, feeling a little impatient. Did you really want to wait the entire day to see him?

“Dinner,” He repeats, a knowing grin on his face. “Be patient, girl.”

“Fine, fine. Dinner, I’ll just twiddle my thumbs all day.”

“We both know you’ll be runnin’ around like a chicken with its head cut off by 10 a.m.”

It feels good that he knows you. You laugh, nodding begrudgingly. He’s right— it might even be earlier than that.

“Just make sure you pace yourself on the coffee.”

“I make no promises. Goodnight, Joel.”

For the first time since your handshake, Joel touches you. He takes your hand into his, helping you into your car, and before shutting the door behind you, he presses a chaste kiss to your skin. Warmth spreads slowly through your hand, creeping up your arm and neck, into your cheeks.

“Goodnight, honey.”

—

Joel doesn’t touch you again the entire night. He’s careful when you return his jacket, careful when he’s guiding you, only letting his hand ghost behind you as you walk. It’s driving you nuts. You wore a silk dress, floral and clingy in all the right places— even wore a flower in your hair to match, and still there was nothing. Well, he had called you beautiful, so beautiful to be exact, when you answered the door.

During dinner, he told you about his daughters, Sarah and Ellie. Things sort of clicked, of course, he would want to take things slow when there are children involved. He doesn’t speak ill of Sarah’s mother when he mentions that they co-parent, explains that Ellie is sort of a stray he ended up taking in. It’s impossible to miss the way he lights up when speaking about his girls. He says that Sarah welcomed Ellie with open arms, that they’re nearly inseparable and do nothing but give him a hard time together.

You don’t say it, but you hope that one day you’ll get to meet them. With your disposition, you wouldn’t be opposed to meeting them right now. But that’s now how this works, especially not with Joel in the driver’s seat.

You respect it. You respect him. It doesn’t stop you from being a little forward when he walks you to your door.

“Do you want to come in?”

Joel gives you a shy smile, shaking his head. “You know the answer to that, sweetheart.”

You nod, pouting a little. Joel thinks it’s adorable, and wants to reach out and run a thumb over the swell of your bottom lip to push away. But he knows you, and the moment he laid his hands on you, you’d bounce on him. He’s not sure he’d be able to resist, even with his reservations.

“Well, there was no harm in me trying,” You say salaciously, raising a brow at him.

“I appreciate your eagerness, but we’re still takin’ this slow.”

“I know, I respect it, Joel. It’s just not something I’m used to.”

He doesn’t like the way you deflate a little, as if you’re feeling some sort of shame. He’d never want you to feel that way.

He takes a step forward, cupping your cheek gently, “You know there’s nothin’ wrong with taking things fast, honey. But, I think this is good for the both of us. How does it feel?”

How does it feel? When you get beyond the initial impatience, the clumsiness of not always flirting and immediately getting physical, it feels…certainly different, and maybe good. Really good. To know his interests, and intentions, his values, and pieces of his life before diving in head first. Yeah, it feels good. Because there is no making things work as they come at you— Joel is slowly showing you what you get with him, proving as time inches forward that you two fit together just fine.

You don’t have to rush into it to make him stay. He just will.

That restless energy you feel like you were born with settles as you try to formulate your answer. How could you tell him all of that without seeming like you were rushing into things feeling perfectly right?

You decide to keep it vague, feeling a little nervous for once. “It feels good. Nice. Different…not what I’m used to, but nice.”

Joel’s thumb slowly skates across your cheek, trying to soothe you. His voice is a soft gravelly hum. “Feels good for me too, sweetheart.”

He’s making your head foggy, with his gently dominant disposition. Unable to stop yourself, you lean further into his palm, enjoying the callousness here and there. His eyes don’t leave yours, as if they’re looking into you and not just at you. His presence is overwhelming, a single glance from him consuming you. You find yourself trembling slightly despite the dreadfully warm air tonight.

Joel bends slightly, his nose just an inch away from ghosting yours. “I’m gonna kiss you now, alright?”

You make a soft, affirmative sound, the ability to find your voice escaping you.

It’s so slow. So Joel. It feels like the slow drip of caramelized sugar. Like a snail making its way across the pavement. Your brain slips away further there's nothing but warmth and happiness and pleasure as Joel kisses you on your porch. He presses his mouth to yours, guiding your head back with the hand that still cups your cheek. He takes your hand, bringing it up so that you mirror his actions. Once your hand is there his drops away, taking your other hand and guiding it to his chest.

He wants you to feel. To take this moment to stop time and not get lost in it, not drift away like you were before. He wants you to stay present, to savor every languid stroke of his tongue against yours.

And as if you can feel him saying that through the simple connection of lips, you become sharply aware of what the sensation of kissing Joel Miller feels like.

How his lips are as soft as they look, his tongue tasting of the dark ale he drank at dinner. How the shadow of a beard that trails his jaw tickles at your palm. How firm and solid and warm his chest feels beneath your fingertips. More than that— both of his hands now cup your face with a gentle intimacy you’ve never experienced, not even with others who have seen and touched much more of your body than he has.

Despite sinking into him and his patience, there’s a hunger inside of you that you can’t ignore. You give into your urges and instruments. It’s as if this was the calm before the storm— the storm being you, starting to clutch him closer, kiss him deeper, frantically so.

Joel chuckles into your mouth when he feels the way you start to pillage him; there’s no other word for it. Your message is as clear as his: you want more and you want it now.

“Down, girl,” He slurs into your mouth, getting a grip on your hands and gently prying them from the fabric of his flannel.

“Sorry,” You whisper, completely breathless. You take a step back towards the door, your expression apologetic. “Sometimes— most of the time, I get a little carried away. I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

“You didn’t cross a line— at least not one I don’t eventually intend to cross,” He assures you softly, taking a step forward to maintain proximity to you.

It makes butterflies flutter in your tummy even as you laugh, nodding in understanding. He was being genuine despite moving slower than molasses. He’s worth the wait. At least that confirms the worst of your worries. He’d said from the day you met he was interested but there was a silly part of you— insecure and swirly, you try not to engage with it much— that thought that maybe he was just being a gentleman. Taking pity on you, giving you the time of day to boost your confidence and spare your feelings.

“What do think about say to us doin’ this again next week, sweetheart?”

“I think…I would really like that, Joel.”

“Great. Now hold your horses and let me kiss you again.”

He does that thing again like he did last night, his voice infused with honey, low and delicious as he crowds you up against your door. The combination is threatening to make your legs give out and you brace yourself by the doorknob, looking up at him with eager eyes.

Joel kisses you breathless once more, taking both of your wrists in his grasp if only to keep you at bay, and maybe to feel soft your skin is under his palms…how you let him take the lead despite it being a new concept. The thought has his cock stirring and he pulls away, knowing that he’s pressed his luck enough with you tonight.

He raises his eyebrows, unable to keep the smirk off his face. “Goodnight, honey.”

“Goodnight, Joel,” You murmur, feeling tingly all over.

You let yourself in and watch Joel walk to his car through the screendoor. And when he pulls off, he gives you a cute little wave, one that you return, warmth blooming in your chest.

Joel and his sweet southern charm, sweeping you off your feet.

joel taglist: @honeybrowne, @campingwiththecharmings, @lesbianhotch

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #arson writes #not sfw #Spotify

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skinskisurf · 8 months ago

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#Nike #Nike shoes #Nike socks #Women in Nike #Women in Nike shoes #Women in Nike socks #The North Face #The North Face jacket #Women in The North Face #Women in The North Face jackets #Lycra #Lycra tights #Women in Lycra #Women in Lycra tights #Black Lycra #Jacket #Women in jackets #Sitting #Female

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american-denim-parano · 9 months ago

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#california #vintage #i love you #vintage denim #just women #vintageshirt #los angeles #denim #vintagesweats #vintagesweatshirt #the north face #north face #down jacket

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twola · 1 year ago

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Hey don't know if this one is up your alley but I was wondering if you could do one where the reader is a sharpshooter (kinda like Black Belle) and Arthur was originally gonna take her to the sheriff's but they end up getting caught up in a fight with the O'Driscolls and she saves his life, then que the enemies to friends to lovers lmao

Later on they meet again and take down a house full of lemoyne raiders, they both lay low for a while then smut ensues lol.

I'm bad at describing but you can put your own twist on it if you want, make it however long you want, don't matter I just love your writing ❤️❤️

Hoooooo’kay. So this is probably a bit harder than the original requestor was thinking, but I’ve written too many sweet one-shots recently. It’s time to get a little nasty.

Anything You Can Do

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Arthur meets his match in one of his bounties. His infuriatingly difficult match.

Curtis Malloy rolls his eyes as the gunslinger ahead of him inquires about the bounty poster tucked on the far corner of his desk. Of course, the man would ask about that one. A picture of a woman, of all things, wanted for murder, robbery, and theft. A woman with hard eyes but a pleasing face.

Wasn’t the first one to come askin’. The sheriff took the damn poster off the wall after men started dying when they went after her. He’d hear talk of fool-hearted bounty hunters heading north into Ambarino to find this lady to bring her in, only to end with lead between their eyes, floating down the Dakota River.

But this man, well, he’s been rather successful as of late - and Malloy knew that he probably ran in the same vein of people he was picking up. No loyalty to the trade, he guesses. And in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t any skin off of his nose. Would get the man out of his hair and stop begging for more folks to hunt. Give him more time to deal with this Moira situation…

“Supposed to be up campin’ by Window Rock. But she likely has the area booby-trapped. Startin’ to lose count of the men who’ve gone up there to get killed tryin’ to take in this little lady.” Malloy warns as he hands the poster to the man ahead of him. The man grunts, tucking away the poster in his brown leather jacket, nodding before exiting out to the street.

Malloy gives a look to one of his deputies across the room.

Both begin to laugh.

Arthur’s seen his fair share of women easily fend for themselves. He saw the way Black Belle could shoot - likely better than he could. He sure as hell wouldn’t want to meet Mrs. Adler in a dark alley. She’d likely stab him before he could get a hand on her.

This woman supposedly had a deadly shot - a pile of bounty hunters at her feet. He knew he wasn’t going to just walk up to the tent and threaten you. This required a bit more finesse.

But still, as he gazed through his binoculars at his prize, you certainly didn’t look like the woman people were talking about in Valentine. Fairly short in stature, long dark hair falling in waves over your back. Arthur raises an eyebrow when he notices your curves as you kneel on one knee at your campfire.

Nope, he definitely does not miss the way those trousers hug your form.

He also does not miss the revolver in the belt slung around your hips as you rise from the fire, stretching your arms above your head and yawning. He does not miss the fishing line taut along the ground, tied to a rock precariously perched on a tree branch. Obviously placed there to alert you of intruders. Several fellers likely met their end due to that fishing line.

Arthur circles the campsite at a wide angle, hidden by the shadows of the night. He takes his time hunting his prey, taking in the lay of the land around, noting your movements, and ways of egress - like stalking a deer, he has you in his sights and is damn sure of it before he makes his move.

That move being edging dangerously close, revolver drawn, and diving at you once you’re in distance to reach. Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his large form lands atop you on the hard ground, caging in your limbs beneath him. You squawk, in a rather undignified manner, as he holsters his own revolver and reaches into yours to draw it out, disarming you and tossing your revolver several feet away.

“Get your damn hands off me.” You spit, but alas, the way he has you pinned down, you’re unable to fight back. The strength of this man was frightening. If it weren’t for the damn noose you know is waiting for you at the end of this, you would be excited by how strong he is. He quickly and easily hogties you, leaving you cursing and sputtering on the ground as he whistles for his horse.

Once his mare has sidled up, he heaves you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes, and you yelp in indignation as he tosses you over the rump of his horse.

A sack of potatoes with a very nice ass in those trousers.

Arthur blinks briefly before shaking his head, pulling himself up into the saddle. Just to cut back through Cumberland and to Valentine, then he’d get the pretty penny on this woman’s head. One of the larger bounties he’s seen, he has to admit.

“You lousy sack of shit, I wasn’t bothering anyone!” You yell from the rump of the horse.

“Ain’t me who decides your bounty, Miss-” Arthur simply replies, urging the mare into a trot, before you cut him off with a hiss.

“Say another word and I’ll geld you.” You interrupt before he can say your name.

“Sure, lady.” Arthur chuckles, knowing you wouldn’t be gelding anyone hogtied on the back of his horse, crossing the Dakota near Fort Wallace.

Blessed silence. For what seems like only a few moments.

“Since you know me so well, who the hell are you?” You ask, raising your head a bit.

“Now why would I tell you that?” Arthur chuckles, urging his horse southward on the road, deep into Cumberland Forest.

“I’d like to at least know the man’s name before I get fucked.” You retort, an even more sour tone in your voice.

“Arthur Morgan, my lady.” He replies, egging you on with the honorific, knowing you ain’t anything close to that, especially with the mouth on you. He’s about to stay something to prod you further when he hears voices up the road in the distance.

“Shit.” Arthur curses, as four green-sashed men crash through the trees. He immediately circles the horse to change direction as he hears a rider approaching on horseback, yelling at him.

Of course, O’Driscolls had taken up again at Six Point. Morgan, you idiot, you’re waltzing straight past them.

“Let me go and I can help you.” You call from behind him, trying to duck from whizzing bullets as much as your bindings would allow.

“Yeah, so you can shoot me in the back of the head too? Not a chance, lady.” Arthur retorts as he spurs his mare into a gallop, and you grunt as the wind gets knocked out of you from the jolting.

The O’Driscolls are in hot pursuit, the rider is joined by three others as Arthur pushes his horse back toward the Dakota, but with you slung over the back of her rump, he’s not able to urge his horse faster, not if he was going to get this bounty. Needed you alive.

He curses aloud as a bullet whizzes by his head on the right, and he turns the horse to the left, which was a poor decision as the mare reaches the cliffsides jutting up on either side of the Dakota, the river far below.

Pinned down along the face of the cliff, Arthur senses his horse getting skittish. Any more of this and the mare is going to buck him, and the bounty. He curses again as a bullet nearly hits his hat, sliding off the saddle and dragging you to the ground. You squeak with indignation until you hit the ground, groaning and cursing him. But to your surprise, he is unsheathing his knife and cutting the ropes at your ankle and wrists. You immediately scramble up and turn to him, smacking him hard across the face.

“Serves you right, asshole.”

“Y’done now, lady?” Arthur fumes, working his jaw as he reaches over your shoulder to grab the long guns from his horse’s saddles, before the damn thing spooks and runs away.

“If you wanna go with them, be my guest, but O’Driscolls don’t have a particularly good reputation of their handlin’ of women.” Arthur sneers at you, shoving a repeater at your chest, glaring before another bullet whizzes by and the both of you hit the ground out of sheer reflex.

You immediately open and close the lever to chamber a round, gritting your teeth. “This thing full at least?”

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur retorts as he pulls revolvers from his belt, dual wielding as his mare screams and bolts for cover.

By the time the two of you rise, bullets fly and hit their targets, one O’Driscoll falling off his horse in a spray of blood to his chest, another gets shot in the head and his body limply clings in the saddle. Arthur runs across the open glen, knowing he’s a sitting duck in the wide open, and you dart in the other direction to the other treeline, quickly disappearing from sight.

Goddamnit. Of course you ran. Morgan, you’re even more of an idiot.

Arthur is fuming to himself so much so that he doesn’t hear the clicking of the revolver’s safety until too late, the steel of a barrel being pressed against the back of his neck.

“Drop 'em’.” The O’Driscoll threatens, and Arthur drops the revolvers in his hands, clattering to the ground as his captor pushes him forward, winding an arm around his shoulder and pressing the revolver further into his neck. They stop in the middle of the clearing.

“Think ol’ Colm misses ya, Morgan.”

Arthur scowls at the ground with the warm barrel of the gun against his neck, probably burning his skin. The O’Driscoll laughs behind him.

“You stop right there, you mick bastard.”

Your voice, high and sharp, cuts through the mountain air like a knife.

The O’Driscoll spins himself and Arthur around, forcing Arthur ahead of him to shield most of his body.

“C’mon now, you go on and leave the shootin’ to the men, dearie. I’ll even give you a head start.” The O’Driscoll laughs as you point the repeater dead at his face, twenty feet away.

You don’t move, and the O’Driscoll frowns, shoving his pistol into Arthur’s neck harder.

“Put the gun down, lady. Or Morgan gets the next round.”

Your stance never wavers. A small smirk comes across your face.

“Doin’ me a favor then?”

The O’Driscoll raises his eyebrow, but in a flash, it is all over. The crack of the repeater echoes in the glen as a body hits the ground. Arthur’s hat rolls on its lid across the ground.

“Jesus Christ!” Arthur stumbles ahead, holding his ear, absolutely covered in blood and brain matter. His eyes flit behind him, to take in the O’Driscoll, dead on the ground, half his face caved in from the bullet that hit him between the eyes.

He looks up to you in shock and bewilderment. You slowly lower the repeater and open and close the lever, chambering another round. Completely unfazed.

“I got one more round in here, Mister Morgan. I’d like very much not to use it on you.” You state with an air of superiority, dead serious as you grip the repeater tightly.

Arthur slowly raises his hands, his guns still strewn across the ground feet away after his tussle with the now-dead O’Driscoll.

“Now listen to me. I’m gonna take one of these horses and be on my way. And you ain’t gonna follow me. You’re gonna forget that bounty and get on with the next sucker you chase down.” You say, with an even, deadly tone.

“Don’t you usually shoot them men comin’ after you?” Arthur asks, his hands still outstretched.

“I do. But usually the men comin’ after me ain’t as handsome as you are. Would be a shame to blow your brains out.” You say with a smirk, starting to back away, toward where the O’Driscoll’s horse grazes in the long grass.

Arthur’s cheeks tinge pink as he remains still, but lowers his hands.

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, Mister Morgan. Maybe you can make up for me savin’ your pretty hide.”

You give an exaggerated curtsy before climbing into the saddle of the horse, the repeater still ready to fire. You grab the reins tightly and circle the horse once before galloping off, leaving Arthur Morgan standing alone in the clearing, saved but for the dead O’Driscoll.

Lemoyne was too damn hot. Sweltering. Disgusting. Even as the dusk fell. Even outside of the damn swamp, Arthur hated it. The gang had moved south after that shootout with Cornwall in Valentine. Bad business all around. Now, Dutch and Hosea have been working both angles of the local yokel families, locked in some kind of bitter generational feud.

Arthur just needed to clear his head. Dutch had him working as a lawman, of all the ridiculous things. He’s taken this free moment to do his own work, having been tipped off on a Lemoyne Raiders safe house not far from Ringneck Creek, supposed to be just a few of these idiots and a cache of items they have stored from their roadside robberies throughout the state.

Ripe for the taking.

The old barn house stood on the rise, and he could tell, as he swung down from his mare just beyond the treeline. He smacks her rump and she’s off, back down toward the Kamassa. He lets the rifle strapped across his shoulders down, aiming through its sights at the movement of men in the distance.

“Well well, if it isn’t the fastest draw in the west.” A sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

Arthur swings his rifle at the interloper that appeared several feet away from him, cursing himself for not being aware of his surroundings.

Oh. It’s you.

God damnit.

“The hell are you doing here?” Arthur harshly whispers, lowering the rifle.

You nod your head toward the barn behind him, “I was going in on a tip I got that the yokels had things stashed here.”

Arthur frowns. “Don’t tell me you got that from Alden.”

“The ticket man, in Rhodes.”

“God damnit.” He rolls his eyes. He scowls at you, standing there with your hand on your hip. Looking positively infuriating in dark trousers and a fairly tight-fitting button-down. Highlighting your curves, while your dark hair is pulled back into a long braid.

Focus, damnit. Arthur chides himself as he turns back toward the barn, looking again through the scope of this rifle at the men mulling about.

“Tell you what, Mister Morgan. You could use another gun. I could use wastin’ less bullets on these inbreds. Split what we find.”

Arthur has counted seven Raiders going in and out of the barn, which would be a fairly large number if he were alone. He sighs in exasperation.

“Fine.”

“Well, probably wasn’t the whole lot of them, I’m sure there are more of these wannabe civil war soldiers slinking about.” You muse, rifling through papers on a makeshift as Arthur picks a lockbox, pocketing the billfolds inside. Stepping over a dead body, you catch Arthur’s frame over that lockbox.

You notice what his hands are doing, and glare at him. “Hey - asshole, we’re splittin’ this.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, but acquiesces, tossing one of the billfolds at you. You catch it with ease.

“After that noise we should probably lay low for a bit.” You move toward the barn door, shouldering your repeater, stopping to listen outside for a moment.

“Oh, so now there’s a we?” Arthur snaps back at you as he follows you to the door.

“Be my guest if you wanna head into the swamps at this time of night. I, on the other hand, have a cabin I cleared out on the other side of Dewberry Creek.” You glance at him, pushing through the barndoor with your hand on your gun, looking around for any kind of movement. Your horse has meandered closer, and you whistle lowly for it to come closer.

You pull yourself into the saddle and look down at him.

“You coming? Or you just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

“Ain’t this homey?” Arthur retorts, looking at the rundown state of the cabin inside. A bed, with a near-disintegrating blanket, an old table, broken cabinets, and maybe one chair that didn’t look like it was about to fall apart.

“Ain’t your momma teach you manners? Lady invites you into her abode and you just insult her.” You slide the rifle from your back and place it upright against the stone fireplace.

“You’re a lady now? Coulda fooled me.” Arthur follows, placing his repeater on the table, unwilling to have you get the last word in.

You sneer at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Last time I checked, I have two tits and a cunt - pretty sure that makes me a lady - unless you’ve encountered different.”

“Pretty sure a lady wouldn’t be speakin’ like that.” Arthur returns, glancing away from you and trying to hide the flush that he knows is burning up his cheeks - he’s trying not to look at your breasts, framed by your crossed arms. Trying not to think of your ass in those trousers, the taper of your hips, the cunt he suddenly can’t not imagine filling.

“Oh, is you a gentleman? A dashing outlaw with ladies falling in his lap from here to Armadillo?” You point at him, pressing your finger into his chest, gritting your teeth as your self-righteousness and hackles both rise.

For once, he’s silent. For once in the whole goddamn time you’ve known him, he’s given you an opening. Seize it. Take the enemy down. Merciless. Just like shootin’.

“Bet you couldn’t please a lady even if you was the one being paid.” Your voice lowers as you go in for the kill.

To his credit, Arthur resurges with sputtering indignation, pushing you several steps backward until your back slams against the cabin wall. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Christ alive, the mouth on you. How’s about I shut you up by givin’ you somethin’ to fill it?”

With his hands clamped on your shoulders and his large frame looming over yours, it’s not fear that you feel. Not that he’s going to hurt you, or turn you in. Something more profound than that. Something that shoots to your very core.

“I’d like to see you try.” You hiss at him, and see his jaw work in frustration, “Probably can’t even make a woman come.”

His thigh immediately rams forward, parting your legs as his hands fly to your hips, lifting you several inches above the ground, you yelp as he presses up against your core.

“I’m gonna make you eat them words, missy.” He hisses as he leans into your ear.

“Not if I make you come first.” You respond breathily, your hand moving to cup at the seam of his pants, grabbing at his burgeoning cock. He grunts and shoves his thigh up higher, and you mewl as it causes you to grind against the hard bone of his femur.

“You’re askin’ fer it.” He grunts as he presses his pelvis against you, his cock hard against your belly. A zing of pleasure shoots through your core in response. He’s not lacking, in any measure. His hands briefly leave your body to pull at the buckle of his gun belt, and the belt clatters to the floor at his feet.

“Yeah,” You grab his collar two-fisted and pull him to you, “I am askin’ fer it.” You parrot back in his drawl, lips inches away from his for just a moment, before you bridge the distance and take his mouth forcefully, not letting him respond as you shove your tongue inside.

He’s not surprised, nor taken off balance, matching your fevered press into his mouth with his own, battling for supremacy as his tongue wrests with yours. You barely feel one of his hands leave your hip and start to work the buttons of your trousers, it's not until he works them open enough to shove his hand down the front of your pants that you groan in surprise into his mouth. His rough, calloused fingers weave their way downwards, under the waistband of your bloomers, and straight to your moistening core, where he slides a long, meaty finger into your cunt, making you mewl.

But you cannot let him win.

Summoning all the fight you have in you, battling against the sweet sound of his hand smacking up against wet skin, your hands shoot down to cup his burgeoning erection through his pants, and he moans as his hips move to press forward into your touch.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as you open his pants, breathing through your nose as he latches his mouth to the side of your neck, slipping his middle finger inside you, making you curse under your breath as you finally reach your goal. You nearly rip his pants open and fish his hard cock out, your fingers wrapping around it as you begin to pump his shaft, desperate to make him feel as helpless as he’s making you feel.

Arthur moans needily against your neck, rolling his hips, and losing his rhythm as he rocks his hand into you. You smile as your head tilts back, pleased at yourself that you’ve met him and matched him.

It would not be for long, though. He retracts his hands and finds your hips again, and the next thing you know, you’re lifted in the air, caught off guard, and instinctually wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both the several steps to the table. One of his hands moves to your lower back, keeping you upright, as he lays you down and spreads you out on the flat surface.

The gunslinger leans over and captures your lips again as he starts to work your trousers and bloomers down your waist, over the swell of your ass that you raise in the air to help him. You have the wherewithal to kick your boots off as he works your pants down your thighs, standing to his full height as he peels them off you completely, leaving your lower half bare to his gaze. Your tapered hips, glistening folds, wet and ready for him.

You take advantage of his dumb-struck stare to unhook his suspenders from the front of his pants, yanking them down over his hips to let them rest above his knees.

Wasting no time, before you know he’s going to catch you, you wrap one hand around his shaft and cup his testicles with the other, squeezing both gently as he groans, his hands holding himself up as he leans above you, his hips starting to thrust forward.

It's only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before his eyes open, hands snap to your hips, and you’re yanked bodily forward, ass nearly hanging off the table, and you let go of his member as he presses forward, the head of his cock touching your wet folds and making you both moan aloud.

“Still askin’ fer it?” He pants, and all you can do is moan in response and shake your head in the affirmative, spreading your legs for him.

Arthur immediately slides his cock all the way in, until the chestnut curls at the base of his cock meet the dark hair over your cunt, and you cannot help but to mewl, watching as he slowly withdraws and presses in again. Your legs spread even wider as both of you can’t look away from the sight: his long, hard shaft glistening with your slick, disappearing into your body.

One of his hands moves from your hip to splay beneath your abdomen and presses down hard, he moans in appreciation as he can feel himself through your skin as he buries his cock in your cunt again. And again. And again. You fall back from your elbows completely onto your back, the pressure of him making you gasp and whine.

Fuck, this is where you hurtle toward that point of no return, there’s no holding back the wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you as Arthur pounds himself into your hips. There’s no winning or losing anymore, there is just the chasing of that pleasure.

You’re cresting, back beginning to arch uncontrollably as he pumps into you hard and fast. You don’t give a shit about losing, because you’re wrung so tightly you’re about to snap, needy whines escaping your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to stop tears from overstimulation from spilling down your cheeks.

The head of Arthur’s cock keeps hitting that spot in your cunt that makes you want to die in pleasure, his large hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You can barely recognize the shriek you give as your own, and the grunts in return, fucking you harder through your release. Your spasming, clenching, shaking release.

“Yes, yes,” Arthur grits out. The broken syllables of his name escape your mouth as you come, he thrusts deep inside of you and you gush warm slick around his length.

He immediately groans, loudly, clenching your hips hard as he jerks himself from you, painting your mound white with arcs of his spend landing in your dark pubic hair. Arthur pants, not letting go of your hips as you at least have the wherewithal to lean up on your elbows again.

“Think…” he rasps, voice sex-hoarse and breathless, “I win.”

A smile cracks from your lips as you tighten your legs around his hips, drawing him closer.

“Best…” you pant, “Two outta three.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead fandom #rdr2 #twolafic #tumblr prompt #red dead smut #arthur morgan x reader #voluptatem

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bluegalaxygirl · 1 year ago

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Don't get lost P2 (Zosan x Reader)

Zoro x sanji x reader, polly relationship, reader is GN.

plot: Zoro gets lost and its up to sanji and reader to find him and bring him back but there's one problem.

warning: strong language, violence, making out, angst and fluff

Part 1

The north side of the island wasn't that busy so it should be easy to spot zoro around, unfortunately this part of town had the most dead ends but you knew that since you did chose the north side for yourself. As you walked around looking at everyone and everything trying to see if your green haired lover was there you looked down at the map trying to see a place he might be until you hear a voice "Oi" you perked up at the sound seeing none other than Zoro walking towards you. Before, you thought you would be so mad at him and give him a good telling off but now that the dreaded anxiety and worry has vanished you couldn't help but run at him and wrap your arms around his thick muscular body not caring at the cry of shock from Zoro. "You had me so worried" you say with your face in his shoulder afraid of letting go, the swards man relaxed at your words realizing that he worried you "hay i would have found my way back" He states and now the anger come, you grab him by the ear pulling him down slightly so your face to face, "You cant be serious? you get lost easily and this place is like a maze, you may have never found your way out. how lets go" you say still holding into his ear as you walk south. "Ow ow ow, ok ok just let go" Zoro protests grabbing your wrist, you stop in your tracks and turn to face him letting go of his ear, he on the other hand doesn't let go of your wrist instead he being your wrist up to his mouth and kisses it "im sorry for worrying you" he whispers slightly hoping you didn't hear him but you did and smile at his apology "lets go back to the ship" you say starting to walk south.

A few minutes of walking later you hit a dead end and have to look at the map again making zoro let go of your wrist. your fixated on the map trying to work out where you went wrong and then, you see it you took the second turn not the third, you turn to relay this to zoro only to find him gone. Panic sets in and you run the way you came looking around for him yelling his name but there was no answer and no sign of him. Great he's lost again and this time your the one who lost him.

Sanji walks around the west side of the island trying not to get distracted by any food or women around, it was hard to do so though, some of the girls here were beautiful, he tried to keep his head down and move on going down street after street until he hit a dead end. He sighs and take a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it trying to calm himself, after a few puffs he feels calm enough to start walking again and heads back the way he came only to bump into some one coming around the corner "Hay watch it" they both yell out before staring at each other, Sanji found Zoro and now he was pissed. While chewing angrily on his cigarette he grabs zoro's kimono and pulls it towards him making sure their face to face as he yells "Where the hell have you been? We told you not to leave the ship but you can't follow one simple order" Zoro's eye squint's as his anger boils grabbing the cook's shirt collar and pulling it closer getting in the man's face even more "If you haven't noticed your not the captain, i dont take orders form you" a growl leaves Sanji's lips before connecting their foreheads "Well if you had listened to me or Y/N then we wouldn't be out here looking for you." It's lucky no one is around to see this argument take place but even if their were the two wouldn't care and would most likely tell anyone who interrupts to fuck off. "Well for your information curly brows, i already saw Y/N and they seemed pretty happy to see me unlike you." Zoro yells shoving the cook away from him and fixing his kimono.

Sanji signs and fixes his jacket readjusting the cigarette in his mouth "Don't get me wrong i am happy to see you. I just don't want you getting lost again. If you've seen Y/N than that means you lost them on the way back to the ship" he states finishing off his cigarette and stamping out on the ground. Zoro watches and runs a hand over his head, looking away to hide the slight blush on his face "Actually they lost me", Sanji raises an eyebrow at the comment before braking out in laughter "What's so funny?" The swards man yells in shock redness now covering his cheeks as Sanji wipe away a tear and starts to calm down. "Damn you moss head" The cook whispers under his breath approaching Zoro and wrapping his around around his neck pulling the green haired man in for a hug. it doesn't take long for zoro to hug back "im sorry" Zoro mutters before pulling away the redness fading form his face "so how do we get back?".

After checking out the map and making sure Zoro doesn't wonder off sanji checks his watch "Oh shit" he lets out gaining the sward man's attention "its almost 1, I should have been back by 12" clinging onto zoro's arm sanji rushes threw the streets trying to get back to the ship as quickly as he can, Zoro not understanding the rush is getting pulled along, He was going to ask what the rush was for but the look on the cook's face said all he needed to know. they were both in trouble.

After not finding Zoro again you made your way back to the ship finding chopper waiting, the little reindeer perked up at seeing you but it soon faded into a frown when he realized Zoro wasn't with you "I did find him but i lost him again. I should have held onto him" you say before sitting down on the side of the ship, Chopper joined you hopping up on the railing beside you. As the minutes went buy you started to tense, Sanji wasn't back yet. After half an hour you couldn't take it any more and got up only being stopped by chopper grabbing onto the sleeve of your jacket "Don't if you get lost too then..... I'm sure he'll be back, maybe he found Zoro on the way back and that's what's taking so long" The Doctor didn't want anyone else to leave, the others hadn't come back for lunch yet so they'ed have to wait to send out a search part. You take a breath trying to clam yourself, worry and sadness fills your heart, you know that if you don't calm down now a panic attack will hit you. Chopper seems to notice the change of breath and heart beat sending him into Doctor mode "Sit down, I'll get some stuff for you. i'll be back" The reindeer jumps and runs off as fast as he can, you only just sit down on the deck your back to the railing of the ship when Chopper run's back, blanket in his arms and some kind of bottle.

The doctor wraps you up in the blanket and hands you the bottle "Its a smelling salt i found on our last island It should help to calm you down" he says undoing the cap for you, a sweet smell fill's your senses with a mixture of cinnamon, lavender and Coconut, a strange combination but it worked to calm you down, your shoulders relaxed and the knot in your stomach fading away. Chopper joined you under the blanket cuddling into you, the fluffiness of his fur also helps to calm you down. "Thank you Dr. Chopper" you whisper to him, the doctor looks up at you with a big smile "Calling me Doctor doesn't make me happy or anything you idiot".

Half an hour goes by and the sound of voices hit's your ears. You get up from the floor leaving a now sleeping chopper in the blanket. Honestly you expected to see some of the crew coming back for lunch only to see Sanji and Zoro coming up the dock. You'r heart fills with joy at seeing the two but tears start to sting your eyes threatening to fill them and flow down your face. Your legs move before you can tell them too, running off the ship and down to them spreading your arms out to crash into them both pulling them into you. The relief you feel at the contact knowing both of them are safe and back makes you break. Tears stream down you face letting out little sobs. Both boys hold you tight to them "Hay hay love its ok, don't cry where here now" Sanji says panicking that he made you cry. Zoro manages to pull you away enough to look at him. he places a hand on your tear stained cheek running his thumb under your eye to wipe away the tears. Words dont need to be said, you can tell he's sorry. "There we go my love, no more tears" Sanji says seeing the tears stop falling all togeather, your attention turns to Sanji who has a small smile on his face "What took you so long? i was worried you got lost too" you state, your throat slightly dry form the crying and the sting of salt form the tears that fell over your lips. "I lost track of time, im sorry but at least i found our love" The cook reply's placing a thumb over your lips and wiping the salty tear stains away from them.

The moment was cut short by a surprised shout from behind you, Chopper came running up behind you and ran to Zoro hugging his leg and crying his poor little heart out, apologizing over and over again. Zoro reaches down and pets the doctors head before waking back to the ship Sanji still clinging onto his arm, poor chopper holding onto Zoro's leg all the way along while You take zoro's other hand and walk back to the ship heading to the kitchen. On the way you pick up the blanket and the bottle from before taking it with you. It takes a while for zoro to get chopper off of his leg and to stop crying with no help from you or Sanji, honestly there would be no point in helping, Chopper was only focused on the swordsman no one else. The Doctor soon relaxed and sat in the seat next to Zoro feeling tired from all the crying, wanting to repay choppers kindness from before you place the blanket on the reindeer and the bottle on the table hoping it will make him feel batter. The tired reindeer pulls the blanket closer and closes his eyes to take a nap, soon little snores leaving his mouth. Sanji was preparing dinner as quickly as he can since it was later than it should be. "The others aren't back yet Sanji so dont worry, luffy's not gonna be bothering you" you say seeming to make the cook relax a bit, as much as you all love your captain he can be a big handful when it comes to meal times.

You walk over to Zoro who is leaning back in his chair and you take the perfect opportunity to climb onto his lap straddling his hips and wrapping your arms around his neck burying your face in his neck. He immediately wraps one arm around you waist and the other hand runs threw your hair "you really missed me, hu?" You can feel his cocky smile near your ear "I hate you some times...... Don't leave me again" you whisper into his neck, the swards man lets out a sigh placing his hand on you cheek and moving your head to face him his nose brushing against yours. "I'll try but you know me" he says with a wink before placing his lips on yours, the kiss was sweet at first before he shoves his tongue past your lips and into your mouth, the taste of salt from your past tears being replaced by him, just him. he explores your mouth with a slight hum running his hand threw your hair. unfortunately air is needed and you both pull away leaving you both panting for breath. A giggle of sorts comes form behind you too seeing Sanji standing there with drinks in hand "You want some too cook?" Zoro asks leaning his head back to look up at Sanji who places the drinks down on the table. "How can i refuse?" Sanji states before bending down to kiss the swards man. Zoro again deepening the kiss buy shoving his tongue into the cooks mouth humming slightly at how easy it was for him to do so. Sanji try's to pull away after a little bit but Zoro grabs his tie pulling him back down. you giggle at the two as they brake apart "I have to get back to cooking" Sanji states with a slight pout but not stopping Zoro from pulling on his tie. "Just a few more minutes" The sward man whispers giving both of you a cocky smile.

Your both so happy to have your moss head back.

Thank you so much for reading i hope you like. please tell me what you think. i have more on the way with this ship and Zolu x reader.

#one piece imagine #one piece #sanji x zoro #zoro x sanji #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #polly relationship #Zoro x sanji x reader #Zosan x reader #Zosan

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sliceofcake-cupoftea · 2 years ago

Text

The Tanuki Yokai

Request: @edenshiba Hi! I saw that your request is open so, can i request hyuga x Rocky's little sister oneshot? Like, she sneaks out from their house and ended up at daruma's territory and hyuga meet her at his casino? It would be great if you get this message and create this. Thank you for reading

Character(s): Hyuga (x reader), Rocky

Plot Line: Your elder brother had always been protective of you. Always. Especially with how sickly and ill you often got. However, Rocky wasn't here to help you, not this time.

Warnings: Suicide, Attempted murder, violence, bullying, nudity, mature content

You understood your brother’s worries. You really did.

Afterall you couldn’t imagine how hard it was for him to see you all that way. Your mother and elder sister hanging by their necks in the living room while you laid there unmoving on the couch; an empty bottle of pills your mother had crushed into your food on the coffee table.

It was a miracle you survived. An absolute miracle the doctors said.

So, it was no wonder Rocky was so protective of you.

Especially as the miracle didn’t help your fragile health from the aftermath of the attempted suicide. The pills had damaged your stomach and liver causing you to have an intolerance for many foods. Even the slightest change or new thing from your usual diet could make you sick to the point you even threw up blood.

However, the foods you ate could hardly count as nutritional. Your biggest challenge right now was getting enough Vitamin C, the acidic foods too much for your stomach lining. It made you frail. So much so it causes you to catch illnesses quite often or to be just straight malnutrition.

It made sense for your brother to worry.

Especially in a time like this one.

You shouldn't have listened to those girls you met in your college lecture when they offered to hang out with you this weekend. You should have been able to tell something was off by the giggles they made under their breaths as they spoke. But, you couldn’t do anything about it now.

Not when you were stuck in the rain in a forest south of Rascals territory. The girls having run off with your jacket and phone. Leaving you in just your thin sundress and purse, both dripping wet. You hadn’t really dressed for the weather, thinking you would be inside at a mall.

Another cough rips through you as you continue to trudge through the forest, hoping the dirt path you were following was heading north back to civilization. Especially as your coughs kept getting more and more painful. Your throat feeling as if it was on fire as tears stung at your eyes.

“What the hell…?” As you bring a hand up to cover another cough that rips through you, you turn your blurry gaze up from the path. Seeing a group of men and women staring at you, confused yet disgusted looks on their faces. All of them dressed up in fancy jewels and clothes. A stark contrast to your muddy and soaked white dress that stuck to you like a second skin.

“Fricking weirdo,” One of the male’s murmurs, flicking his cigarette and crushing it under his foot, “Let’s just get inside.”

Attempting to catch your breath, you lean against the bark of a tree, watching as the group seems to follow a much larger gravel path leading up to an old shrine temple. Though, as you continued to stare at the shrine, you knew it was likely nothing of the sort. The iconic red and white jackets of the men guarding the front of it are a dead giveaway of what it truly was.

The Daruma Ikka Base.

Shit.

An horrendous cough spills out of you, nearly bringing up to your knees as your legs shake. The cold chill of the wind rattling your bones, making them ache with every millimeter of movement. Though, it is on the last one, that you knew something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Through tear covered lashes, you pull your hand away from your mouth to see the ever so slight scarlet stain on your palm. While not huge or panic worthy, it was a sign your body was not reacting well with your extended exposure with the elements. If you continued like this, you would surely fall ill.

“Isn’t that…?”

You understood it was a terrible decision–an absolutely god awful one–but you really had no other choice. You knew from the stares of the Daruma members out front as you passed them that they had an inkling of an idea of who you were. At least a suspicion you were associated with the White Rascals. But you had to continue on.

You had to.

Especially as you take a shivering sigh of relief when the door of the base shuts behind you, enveloping you in the warmth of the building. While the high amount of smoke causes a few coughs to rip their way through you, causing guests and members alike to stare at you as you pass, you ignore it. Afterall your soaked and shivering form was a sight to see for the people of Daruma Ikka.

Honestly, it would only be a matter of time before–

“Rocky would have a heart attack if he could see you right now.”

There he was. You knew that voice. Of course, you did.

“Hyuga…” You murmur, seeing the leader of Daruma Ikka in front of you. Likely having just gotten off his throne to see what had caused Rocky’s precious younger sister to show up at his gambling den like this.

“You’re in awful shape, Bake-danuki.” While your eyebrows furrow at the strange nickname, you knew better than to question the crazy leader of Daruma. Instead letting him do as he pleases as he brings a hand up to grab your chin. While he was not harsh, he was also not gentle in his method of tilting your face up to look at him, “Very awful shape.”

You watch as his eyes seem to trail across your face–almost as if he was examining you with those hazy eyes of his–before stopping at your lips. His hand shifts, bringing up a thumb to touch your lips and you nearly freeze as he rubs across the surface of them.

What was he doing?

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait long to know as Hyuga pulls his hand away, his thumb covered in scarlet from the crimson liquid that stained your lips. You wince as he pops the finger into his mouth, seeming to hum as he confirmed that it was what he thought it was.

“Well…” Hyuga starts as he finally takes his thumb out of his mouth, looking at you in a lazy manner, “as much as I would love to brawl with your brother today…”

He stretches, walking away suddenly to one of the members. Without even asking, Hyuga pulls the jacket off of their shoulders and makes his way back. You watch with uneasy eyes as he places the stolen jacket around your shoulder, patiently fixing it so that it fully envelopes your figure. Even pulling the fabric forward and folding it over your shivering hands that you held clutched to your chest before continuing, “I just opened this gambling den today and I would rather not have those Rascals destroying my gang’s months of hard work. At least, not on opening day.”

A smirk envelopes his lips as grabs a fist full of the jacket in the front, “Perhaps another day.”

Without another word, Hyuga begins to walk, almost dragging your figure along by the front of your jacket as he leads you. Thankfully for your shaking and aching form, the young man seems to be a rather slow walker; in practically no rush to get you to wherever he was leading you.

As you enter another room, seeming to be someone’s bedroom, Hyuga calls out one more order before disappearing from sight, “Oi, sit on the futon over there after taking off your shoes. Don’t go anywhere.”

What a strange man, you can’t help but think as you follow Hyuga’s order. Kicking off your muddy shoes and peeling off your socks, you slowly make your way to the futon bed. It doesn’t take you long to realize whose it likely was. From the empty can of beer and Kiseru by the side, you had no doubt this was Hyuga’s.

“Oi,” Turning your head around at the call, you see Hyuga had reentered the room. In his hands he carried a bucket of water, seeming hot by the steam wafting from it, and a handful of towels, “I thought I told you to sit.”

“I–” You start, contemplating whether or not to argue with him, “I didn’t want to get your bed… dirty.”

Your voice trails off at the end as Hyuga lazily walks over, plopping down the bucket on the ground allowing some of the water to spill over onto the bed and wooden floor. Why were you even surprised at this point?

With a sigh, you take a seat on the bed as Hyuga sits across from you cross legged on the ground. One of his knees grazing against your own as he places the towels into the bucket. Allowing them to soak for a moment.

“Hey,” Hyuga suddenly says, his voice losing that usual sharp edge of it, “Do you think you could clean yourself?”

You contemplate his question for a moment. Bringing out one of your hands that were still shaking furiously and attempting to move your fingers. You wince at the aching feeling in them and slowly lock eyes with Hyuga, the young male watching you through lidded eyes, before shaking your head.

He sighs for a moment and brings his neck back to stretch it as curses slip out underneath his breath.

“Well… then I’m going to need you…” He takes a moment to wet his lips as he looks at you, “…to take off your dress.”

“Oh.” A pause resounds throughout the room as Hyuga waits, his eyes still piercing into your own, which had long drifted to the ground, “...Okay.”

It was surprisingly anti-climatic if you were going to be honest. For the fact no one had seen you naked except for your mother, you expected this big, insane, moment to happen. Especially as your mind went wild with ideas. True, your heart was practically beating out of your chest and you jumped slightly every time Hyuga’s hand accidentally touched your skin whenever he dragged the cloth against your body. But, it wasn’t as if he stared or touched you. Even with your bare breasts right out in the open for him to look at, his gaze never drifted too far from his objective of cleaning the mud and rain from your skin.

“Don’t worry,” Hyuga suddenly says, breaking the silence that was thick between you two since he started. An ever so slight chuckle escaping him, “I won’t tell your brother.”

“That’s…That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“I know.” Hyuga seems to finally finish his cleaning as he tosses the dirty towel back into the bucket, “But, you have nothing to worry about it. You're not like one of the Oiran outside, I’m not going to touch you like that.”

Perhaps it was because you were delirious. Perhaps it was because you were straight ignorant. But, the words tumble out of your mouth before you can even contemplate their meaning.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did—”

Thankfully you caught yourself at the last moment, realizing what you had just asked of Hyuga, but the damage had already been done. A wide smirk seeming to catch on Hyuga’s lips as he throws his head back, this time louder curses leaving his lips as he attempts to ground himself. As he swings his head back around, his smirk grows wider at your bashful expression.

“Mischievous, Bake-danuki,” Hyuga teases, bringing up a hand to pull at your nose. The action causing you to squeak as you quickly escape and bring a hand up to cover your nose in disbelief, “Almost as bad as the Kitsune. I wish I knew of this side sooner or I wouldn’t have sent someone to grab that brother of yours. Shit.”

He brings a hand up to run over the scrub of his facial hair, stretching his jaw as he sighs. This time his eyes fully traveling your body as he pleased, seeming to soak in what he saw.

“Shit.” He curses once more, “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

You can’t help but giggle as Hyuga lounges lazily on his side and lets out a heavy sigh. His mischievous smirk returns, this time a promise attached with it.

“Maybe next time I rumble with the Tanuki, I’ll kidnap their precious Bake-danuki. That will be a great prize.”

His eyes trail up to look into yours,

“You free tomorrow to get kidnapped?”

#high and low fic #high and low x reader #high & low #high and low #h&l #high&low #high and low hyuga #high&low hyuga #high&low x reader

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