#thanks for the ask‚ sweet pea!

[callsigndreadfrost]

I saw a Tag talking about how you sometimes think about having Jelani heal from their trauma but you'd rather keep them in the space they are in.

I just wanted to say you've done a terrific job showing how slow the healing process is with all your boys! Even if he never fully heals he has had such a fun (thats a word for it) journey and seeing how he and Angelus balance each other out and keep each other grounded is such a great way for the characters to experience the horros but still have a place to go and repair themselves.

<333

Okay first of all, thank you! OMG that is some serious high praise especially when it comes from someone as important to me as you are. Holy shit! Totally flattered right now! I saw this ask way, way earlier but had to get some cleaning done and was on standby due to car problems but I wanted to get this answered and if you don't mind me saying I'm gonna word vomit the heck out of this with so many details.

Read more's there for length.

I'm always worried that I misrepresent some things when it comes to trauma responses and after effects of it. I do so much research and add in my own experiences with stuff. I go over it over and over and over and read so much on the subject that it tends to get to me sometimes but I want this to feel as real as it feels for me.

Also, in the case of their Fallout counterparts, I didn't want a happy-go-lucky AU, I have so many others for that but mainly the Skyrim AU for it. When I revamped it (Fallout AU) I was determined for it to be the AU I come back to when I'm not doing good because as sick as it sounds it's my balm. Those three shorts I wrote are just messed the fuck up but I was going through some shit and I needed to hurt myself in a healthier way if that makes sense.

Also confession time: most of what happened in the Fallout AU is stuff taken from Oracle. Things I've only ever hinted at but was never blatant about. So yeah, long winded way of saying that what happened to Jelani in Fallout happened to him in Oracle, just slightly different and for other reasons. I feel like I downplay his trauma of it in Oracle a lot but in Oracle he was able to get help and he wasn't alone to deal with that trauma. Did it affect him? Yes, very much so, something like that isn't just tossed under the carpet and forgotten. But he had Loke, Angelus and Trevor to help him through it, not to mention actual professional help too in the form of therapy. The worst part was dealing with the guilt because he felt like he'd betrayed Angelus by letting it happen, that took him a long time to come to terms with but Angelus was right there for him. Honestly, who better than his own, at the time, boyfriend who went through years of that shit himself. Literally no one else could understand what he was going through better than him. Not Loke and not Trevor. Then years later when he dealt with Iain who outed what happened to him to everyone else opened up those old wounds if only for a little bit. Then his suicide attempt because of the whole Iain thing and finding out he's the Arch-Maker--She really messed him up emotionally and psychologically, the damage She did to him was massive and from that point on it affected him as a person and would play a part in how he dealt with future problems. Once again Angelus was there to help him through it and he was the best to do so because he understood what it was like to have that kind of self-loathing. Angelus spent almost 2 centuries hating his own existence and during that time he tried to kill himself so many times it's almost obscene to think about. So when Jelani was hurting so much that he wanted to end his own life Angelus was the perfect balance to it. That little puppy picked up the pieces because not only had Jelani done the same thing for him for centuries, he understood what it was like to go through something like that and knew him well enough to know what to do with and for him.

Then years later after the Halo virus caused him to lose control all those feelings of self-loathing came back along with a guilt that was rotting him on the inside. Again, Angelus understood. Angelus was conditioned by his abusers to believe that he's a monster and one that will eventually hurt those that he loves so he was the best one to help his,now husband, through it because Jelani felt the same way.

Both of them have a lot of trauma and they balance each other. When one's injured the other helps him and cares for him. They have such a deep love for one another that they can heal each other. Not to mention Loke, Trevor and Uthorim are there too, can't forget them.

In Fallout it played out a little different. When it happened to Jelani it was more brutal and a lot sicker in my opinion, not only that but he was left for dead and was threatened to not say anything or else they'd find him and Loke, do it again in front of Loke and then kill Loke. Not only did they do that but they threatened him with taking away one of the two people he had left. On top of all of that it happened when he was only a 17-year-old kid. I'm not downplaying severity of traumatic events due to age (Fallout he was 17 and in Oracle he was 1,126). However, like I said, in Oracle he managed to get help and had a support system. In Fallout it happened and in that same month he thought Loke had died so for a year he was completely by himself dealing with crippling trauma that led to him attempting suicide several times. It wasn't until he met Angelus that he found some sort of support.

Angelus was a huge help. Lol now that I think about it, Angelus is the only one in that AU that has zero traumas and pretty much never had anything bad happen to him. I mean, was his childhood ideal? No. Did his grandmother sell him to an ex-raider? Yeah. But if you ask him he had the time of his life and honestly he really doesn't care about any of that. Anyway, he didn't exactly know what to do with Jelani but damn it did he not try his best and I think that was nicely displayed during the second short where he talked Jelani out of shooting himself and the way he talked to him and asked what he was comfortable with. Even at its darkest that AU still has so much fluff in it between them. Even when it comes to sex Angelus is there helping him recover by being someone he can trust. One of his biggest fears is expressing his own desires when it comes to sex because he is TERRIFIED that Angelus or whoever he's having sex with will get angry and hurt 'im. So when it involves Jelani it's always really soft and tender, a lot of loving and reassuring words.

((I'm not sure if you wanna continue the polycule between Uth and the boys in Oracle and other AUs or just the Skyrim AU. That's why I left that last bit ambiguous. But I am game for it on everything but only IF you want to (don't feel pressured to, I so seriously don't wanna limit your options). 'Cause quite honestly I love the chemistry between 'em all. I think that even though sex is a vital part to their relationship it also goes beyond that, like they genuinely care and love each other in ways that are hard to put into words 'cause their actions towards one another speak better and louder.))

Like no matter how dark Oracle or the AUs (again, exception being Skyrim) can get I like to make it fluffy to even it out. And you know what even the Skyrim AU has it's share of not so nice things what with the whole Loke having to run away from home because Iain wanted to kill Jelani (at the time a baby that was less than a year old) out of some delusional sense of revenge. Angelus running away from home because his grandmother wanted to make sure he didn't "sully" the family line like his mother did and basically raising him to think the A.D. were good.

Jelani and Angelus balance each other out in this one pretty well too. Like, Angelus's entire world view is very skewed and wrong because of his upbringing and he's just angry. Deep down, behind all the glamour, the pretty words, the elegant jewels and expensive clothes and that air of superiority he is ANGRY. So meeting Jelani just kinda felt like he cooled down his anger towards everything and everyone. Jelani, Loke, Uthorim and Trevor really turned him around and he learned that his grandmother was completely wrong and to be fair to him he never really bought into the A.D. propaganda, he was just expected to and the only person in his life who was very anti-A.D. died when he was super young so he didn't have a countering point of view to his grandmother's upbringing. The Angelus a year after he moved in with the boys is an entirely different one than when he first got to Skyrim. Well, for the better anyway, he's still a spoiled brat of an elf with a superiority complex about him, it's just that now he's not an asshole about it surrounded by people that love him and he loves back.

But yeah, holy shit, long way of saying that yes, I do take great care in how I try to manage their traumas and the way they deal with 'em. Some get mostly better, like the Oracle version of Angelus and even then I think you can recover from traumatic events but you will never go back to the way you were before it happened. It took Angelus such a long time to get to the point where he had enough of punishing himself and even if Jelani was right there for him every step of the way he was the one that had to make that choice for himself. I wanted to move him past all that and I did. He's so much better now, I'd say since the 1970s. He still has moments and days that are much harder to deal with stuff but he actually wants to move past shit and has an excellent support system like Jelani who would do anything for him.

When it comes to Jelani he mostly recovered from his assault, took a few years but he recovered. The thing that to this day eats at him is guilt. He feels so much guilt for technically everything and to be honest it's all in his head but no matter how much therapy or medication he's given it just doesn't go away which was greatly exacerbated after he found out he's the Arch-Maker. He also has bouts where he feels alienated and lonely even though he isn't and he's aware of it but it just comes on and no amount of logic will pry those feelings from his head. He's torn between two identities, divine and non-divine, and it conflicts him a lot. Oracle Jelani is wounded, he's trying his best and for the most part you can see it but sometimes that wound opens up again and festers for a little bit and he has to balance dealing with it and going on with life.

Fallout version of Jelani is very broken, he went through a horror that a lot of people don't survive either by the person(s) responsible for it or by the victim's own hand. Like I said, I wanna keep him in that space he's in for selfish reasons and to be honest not everyone recovers and I wanna show that side too. Within Oracle you see a Jelani (Angelus as well, credit where credit is due) that managed to recover from surviving such a traumatic event but the Fallout version really didn't and it affects his life pretty heavily and it may be ugly but that's the reality of it.

There is the topic of whether I want him to get some type of closure by killing that ones that...you know...but in all honesty I think it'd be in vain and would only end up hurting him more. He cannot see or smell rum much less drink it because it reminds him of the man that orchestrated the entire thing so seeing him would send him into a panic. Not to mention he's a serious piece of shit, this man is not gonna go down without a fight or without saying and doing things that'll outright trigger him. As much of a capable marksman that he is Jelani would freeze like a baby deer in headlights and that could lead to getting assaulted again because let's face it, that man wouldn't be above doing it again and that's just bad all around.

The idea of revenge is not very realistic. Yes, in Oracle Loke, Angelus and Trevor got to the group that assaulted Jela but that kill was more for Loke if we're being brutally honest. They hurt his brother, they went after his brother. Keyword here being his. True revenge would've been if Jelani himself would've pulled the trigger but he didn't, he really didn't wanna face them again. He wanted to forget it ever happened and put it behind him. Loke, Angelus and Trevor were the ones that wanted recompense for what was done to their brother/boyfriend/friend. Same thing goes for the Fallout version. And to be honest exposing him to that would do more harm than good. To be honest, if I ever do write it it might be that I'm going through something and need to reach into dark content because no matter what the outcome won't land in Jelani's favor.

Honestly I have so much more to say on this topic but it's already really long.

[nsharks]

I wanna give you the fattest forehead kiss by how good your doing us with these chapters

🥰

[omppupiiras]

(obv take ur time since you have a lot of requests already!)

Peas and corn Kä getting comforted after a bad day? :"3 🌽💞

awwww poor baby :((( 💔

[c-rowlesdraws]

im love sweet pea so much

thank you! 💛

[buckgettingstruck]

A pallette cleanser for the doomposting in your inbox

So we know (most) the 118 believes in jinxes and curses and that work gets crazy on the full moon . . . how insufferable are they on a Friday the 13th shift?

oh they are so annoying about it esp buck. again eddie is a skeptic and everyone else argues with him over it

[pianokantzart]

oooh, they’re coming along nice! best of luck. what are you growing?

Thank you! Nothing crazy, just painted daisies and black eyed susans since they're easy enough to grow (when there's no sabotage of course.)

[nikosasaki]

soundtrack game + BENNY & SWEET PEA!!!!

THE PAIRING EVER

opening credits: chicago - sufjan stevens meeting for the first time: strange magic - electric light orchestra hey, i kinda like you: 8teen - khalid i’m going to kiss you now: talk too much - coin falling in love: it's only right - wallows your place or mine: bad idea! - girl in red naked in bed: heatwaves - glass animals first fight: liability - lorde maybe we should take a break: drivers license - olivia rodrigo i want you back: 505 - arctic monkeys AND shrike - hozier will you marry me: sweet creature - harry styles we’re getting older: pretty shining people - george ezra if you die i’ll go with you: paper rings - taylor swift end credits: futile devices - sufjan stevens

[honey-and-sims]

💔, 🥩, 🍓 for lawrence and winifred please <33

💔 (broken heart) - Who has your character hurt most? Physically or emotionally? How did it feel? Do they regret it?

Winifred - This may be a shock, but I feel as though this would be her father. He obviously wasn't around for her, and she never met him, and while I despise the term "daddy issues", I do think she suffers from some those stereotypical behaviors (difficulty trusting men, low self-esteem, people pleasing). Of course, through therapy today, we are able to identify that some a father abandoning their child can lead to psychological issues later on in life, but I'm not certain if Winifred would even know that's where some of her issues stem from. So, as for how it felt, it's probably deeply troubling & confusing, especially when she was just a girl. Lawrence - Jeeeeeez, again, probably his father! I have explained it in asks & sort-of alluded to it lightly, but Lawrence's father would have been considered abusive in today's society. Which is why it took him so long to realise he had only taken on caring for the farm to make his father proud, even if it was from beyond the grave!

🥩 (steak) - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

Winifred - Ooooo she definitely isolates as a means to cope with her problems! I assume she learned this from spending long hours at the workhouse alone and struggling to engage socially both as a girl, and even now as adult. Lawrence - Although it pains me to say it he's a workaholic. Even now being a position where he doesn't necessarily have to work, but still chooses to. In some ways, having a good work ethic can be a good thing, but I also think a lot of people use it as a form of distraction without realising it. Also, probably note the last question as well tbh.

🍓 (strawberry) - Does your oc believe in anything? Are they superstitious? Religious? Atheistic? Has anything in their past made them this way?

Winifred - In this post, I sort-of alluded to Winifred's beliefs a little, which is the Pagan's holiday for the Autumn equinox, however, I wouldn't label her a pagan. I do think she would be very superstitious though, mostly because there a lot of pretty silly superstitions that came from the Victorian era that I feel she might adhere to. Lawrence - Again, I've never explicitly stated Lawrence's religion but I do actually believe him to have been raised Catholic. He was raised in Wales, which is mostly Anglican, however, his Mother's two best friends (Beth & Valerie) are canonically Catholic in the story, and by extension, I just decided Lawrence's parents were too. As for if he's superstitious, this is a complete yes. There are a lot of old superstitions about death & mourning that I hope to include moving forward.

🧣(scarf) - What comforts your oc? Is it an item? An action? A person? Whatever it is, how any why does it comfort them?

Ugh, my chance to gush about my favorite couple ever! Unsuprising, his comfort person is obviously Winifred. When I was more Gameplay focused, his aspiration was to find 'the one', which I took to mean, find someone he loved and begin to build a legacy (a family, a career, etc). For Lawrence, Winifred is just perfect, and he probably idolizes her to an unhealthy degree. But she is totally his person, and making her happy and comfortable is what matters most to him.

Send Me RED Emoji Asks! <3

[callsigndreadfrost]

My leading theory about you is that you're a Yharnamite Hunter that somehow got reverse-isekaied into this world, and are rather enjoying modern luxuries like refrigeration and movies

Suspiciously high insight you got there...

[babsvibes]

A Harley/Millie song, please!

One of my other favorite rarepairs that has eeeehhh no following lol … yet

HarMil: The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience “let’s get into cult stuff because we’re a little bored with life” seems like the manic kind of decisions these two would make. Stealing bounce houses and locking children in a fort both seem like slippery slopes to me lmao

[kedsandtubesocks]

patron saint of cutie pies and killer show/anime taste!! 💖✨

Dear Anon YOU’RE the real cutie pie here oh my gosh 🥹

Thank you so much this was so sweet!!!

Wait let’s talk anime shows now - tell me which one is your fav? 🥺

-

What would I be the patron saint of?

[ebdanon]

5 artists you suggest and a song by each artist you like the most?

hiiii i hope ur having a good day wya 🫶 gonna try and vary this a bit because i feel like im predictable as hell 😭 the artists are probably nothing new but hopefully they’re songs i havent mentioned

1. i listened to all of chappell’s discography!!!! fav song is after midnight :)

2. really bumping to the driver era and their song preacher man 🤸‍♂️

3. COIN is one of my fav bands and i really love their song cemetery 😌 very excited for the new album

4. ive been listening to billie eilish’s new album and i really like the song birds of a feather!! also really enjoy wildflower tbh

5. waterparks and their song self sabotage :) very excited for their new album too

[gutsby]

My Body, His Choice

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Warnings: 18+. Come get y’all juice (consensual freeuse). Unprotected p-in-v. Praise kink. Daddy kink. She/her pussy pronouns. Perverted but ever-respectful Joel.

Note: ‘Púdrete’ means ‘rot’ or ‘fuck you’ in Spanish.

Word count: 2.9k

It wasn’t often he’d fuck you anywhere but his bed.

At fifty-two, Joel was still old fashioned like that.

No matter how hard you tugged on the front of his shirt, begged him gently, baby, please take me right here on the kitchen table—on your desk—in your truck—really anyplace, Joel would shake his head and tote you away to his room. Then he’d blow your back out on a plush and cushy king-sized bed exactly how a gentleman should.

“Wasn’t raised to treat a lady any different,” he’d always say, sucking a breath through his teeth as he plunged his cock inside you from the comfort and quiet of his sheets.

‘Whatever you say, old man’ was your habitual response.

It was one that more often than not ended with you walking funny for the next couple days, thanks to that twenty-something stamina Joel was still able to boast.

So, with sore legs and a warm load leaking out of your cunt every night, you shut up. You didn’t mind being confined to his bed if it meant getting fucked like that. But you would let him know, every now and again or as often as you happened to be ovulating, that there was a freestanding offer for him to just…take, if he ever felt so inclined. The first time you’d said the real word for it, Joel had just smiled and kissed you on the top of your head.

“I’ll sure keep that in mind, sweet pea,” he’d chuckled.

Or, in boomer-speak: ‘No way in hell am I doing that.’

You’d made your peace with it. You’d quit wearing open-gusset undies in the hopes of getting bent over the sink while doing the dishes on a random Tuesday afternoon. You’d put all thoughts of freeuse out of your head and now just waited patiently under the covers at night if you wanted some action on the go. That was more than okay.

And when Joel thundered through the door an hour late one night, you just offered up a smile and a sleepy wave.

“Hi, handsome.”

You were splayed out comfortably on the sofa, and your favorite show was playing in a dim, muted glow on TV. Joel toed off his boots and ducked his head in the closet.

“I said he-llo, you big hunk.”

You regularly alternated between handsome, hunk, and some form of baby or beefcake if he appeared extra large that day. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his form coming in, but you figured you’d give it a stab, shoveling more popcorn in your mouth before returning to Narcos.

Somewhat garbled: “Well hello to you too, babycakes.”

It was either going to piss him off or earn you a big, wet kiss on the cheek—or both, if you were lucky. The words had scarcely hung in the air for more than a second or two, and your popcorn was going down in one slow, crowded gulp, when something fell heavy at your feet.

Your legs were stretched as far as they would go to the end of the couch, and Joel had just dropped his weight right next to them. Then he was leaning back, gingerly.

Carefully.

Joel groaned.

“God, he looks stupid,” he said, staring straight ahead.

You coughed. You winced at a sharp, lone kernel that had snagged your throat going down, and when it passed, you sat up and glanced over to where Joel was looking.

All you saw was a sexy, if not slightly anachronistically-mustached man with tight pants and a slutty stance onscreen.

“Javier Peña?” you asked him.

The man’s nostrils flared in response.

“With that stupid fuckin’ Members Only jacket— dumbass aviators, too, he looks like the biggest dou—”

“Joel!”

You blinked at your boyfriend in disbelief. He knew better than to abuse your favorite DEA agent right to your face. At last, Joel met your gaze, and his cheeks tinged pink.

“What? You wanna fuck him or something?” he snapped.

You turned back to the TV and pretended to consider.

“Hmmm…I don’t know, would Agent Peña come home an hour late with no explanation and then start griping about another man’s clothes when I try talking to him?”

“Yeah. And he’d probably backtalk you, too. In Spanish.”

“Púdrete.”

Joel scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?”

You raised both brows as if to say, ‘Yeah, dude, fuck you.’

Maybe there was a smile behind your eyes as you said it.

You didn’t mean to give in, or let him off so easy, but there was just no grappling with a man in blue jeans and a sweaty, dirt-sodden shirt giving you a look like that.

His eyes smiled back.

You didn’t protest when Joel muscled his way over across the couch and pushed you back on your side. Yanking your hips to lay flush with his front, taking up most of all usable real estate on the sofa just to lie behind you and curl his bicep around your belly. He nosed against you and inhaled deeply. He hummed.

You spooned and watched Narcos in silence.

“Bad day?” you murmured at length.

“Bad don’t even begin to cover it.”

Joel let out a breath, and you felt it migrate through your skull. The whole weight of the world, or, more likely than not, some dipshits at work who’d cost their team a bid or delayed a project by a week, ten, or twenty, was hanging somewhere close over his shoulders and depressing his whole demeanor. His grip on you tightened even more.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

“Me too.”

Joel’s fingers seared a string of small crescents in your skin through the fabric of your nightie. Realizing he was pressing in too much, he eased back. Flexed his hand.

“Ain’t no need to be—it’s on me.”

You felt a kiss land on your shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered as a scene of chaos broke out onscreen with some ill-fated raid or other, and Joel’s hand traveled up your side. It cupped one of your breasts through the sky-blue satin material, and just as fingers began to knead—

“I don’t actually wanna fuck Javi,” you sputtered, dumb.

Joel kissed the space between your shoulder and neck.

“I figured.”

Then his index and thumb found your hardening bud and pinched it between them, rolling the skin in soft, languid strokes. That, paired with the movement of lips up the length of your neck, had your head lolling back gently and your eyes struggling to focus on any of the mayhem unfolding in time. You wanted to turn away from it all—meet Joel’s mouth with a feverish kiss of your own—but when your torso jerked the slightest bit, trying to move, the arm around your front kept you pinned to the spot. Joel’s grey, stubbled chin tickled the shell of your ear.

“Keep watching, darlin’,” he mumbled.

A low whine sounded in your throat, a noise Joel was no stranger to. It bubbled up, almost reflexively, and then was swallowed back as by force when his left hand shifted from toying with your nipple to joining the hem of your dress. Your breath hitched when you felt the pads of three fingers make an easy, careless sort of petting motion between your legs. Stroking you gently there.

“‘M’sorry I was late comin’ home,” Joel continued in the same attritional vein, gliding his middle finger between where he felt the seam of your folds through your dress, “Makin’ you wait up, wasn’t too kind of me, huh, baby?”

“D-Don’t mind,” you shuddered, just as the tip of his pointer finger found your clit and made a circle around it with the other two—a torturous loop that lacked just enough pressure to make it feel really good, and teased.

You would’ve liked to press on, were it not for him, again:

“Aw, hell, honey.”

Your eyes snapped open, and fear seized you momentarily. Had something gone wrong?

Instead, when you glanced between your legs, you saw a stain—a crude Rorschach-looking splotch in its place. With all rational thought currently suspended and your brain in a primal fog of just wanting to fuck, you groaned.

“Joel, please.”

You know what to do. You know what you’re doing.

Joel continued to carry on as though he hadn’t heard you. He rubbed the wet spot even harder with his middle finger and let out the faintest trace of condescension with his breath, fanning warmly across your cheek. It was as though you could feel his big, stupid mouth forming a grin behind your head that made you purse your lips together and force back a whimper when he pressed.

“Left a real mess missin’ me here,” he chided, voice low, “Poor thing hasn’t been fucked in…what, twelve hours?”

You imagined the spot growing larger, gaining warmth and wetness and slick from the timbre of Joel’s voice alone. Nevermind the fact he was practically smearing it all through your panties, through your dress; you’d be soaking his hand in a puddle if he didn’t let up soon.

“Then fuck it again,” you gritted, hips stirring.

“But you’re so busy watchin’ your new man, I—”

At the last, you bucked pathetically against Joel’s hand.

“Don’t want him, Joel,” you moaned, “I need you.”

With what little strength you had left, you tried to turn your body to face the man behind you. He didn’t let you.

In fact, his hold constricted all the more unforgiving, and his right arm curled around your front from underneath you while his left hand took the plunge beneath your dress, finally. It was as torturous as it was fused with any pleasure, though, as his fingers made a pass through your panties, between your folds, and into your heat with little warning at all. Just a kiss to your cheek and then two thick fingers working inside your cunt all at once. You writhed at the stretch, and Joel nosed you again.

“I said you’re busy, baby,” he shushed, “Keep watchin’.”

Keep watching.

Like that wasn’t the most nonsensical instruction he’d ever given you, with his arm twisted over your front and his face in your hair and his fingers pumping in and out.

In and out.

“Don’t care about the fuckin’ show, Joel,” you keened.

He brushed the heel of his palm against your clit, and you could’ve cried from the sheer influx of pleasure.

“Sure you do, sweet pea, you’ve just been so—”

Joel pressed another kiss to your cheek and kept going.

“—busy, lately, it’s only fair I get to have my way, hm?”

Oh.

Oh.

You hadn’t heard his belt come undone. You were so focused on your own pleasure, and getting it fast, that you hadn’t stopped to consider for a moment whether Joel might be testing his ‘free pass’ after all this time.

And, as if to dispel any doubts, Joel kissed your shoulder.

“C’mon, baby, let me use this pussy how I need to.”

He couldn’t have made your body any more pliant and willing than if your limbs had been made of wax.

It was all happening like a dream, almost too good to be a real, flesh and bones man with his hand in your panties, your man, pulling the fabric aside and making you lie on your side while he tapped the head of himself right there.

The hand that had once been toying with your clit was now lifting your knee, parting your legs to make space for him behind you, just outside of you—sliding his dick back and forth at first while he left trails of kisses down your skin. You could cum from the friction of that alone, the little squelches of his skin on yours and the fact that you weren’t in a bed, for once, and he was doing it now. He was making use of your body and cherishing it whole.

In spite of that gaping chasm between you in strength and size, he was obeisant, in a way. Painstakingly slow.

“This okay, baby? Can daddy fuck you right here?”

Joel pressed the head of his cock right against the weeping ring of muscles, felt it pulse against him, and groaned. He let just the cusp of your folds suck him in, forming the slightest, shallowest ‘o,’ only for him to retreat, moving his dick back up and down your slit.

You’d already cried and told him, yes, yes, you can fuck me there, daddy, please—but Joel was too busy tilting your head back up to the screen. Making you open your eyes and watch the show, loath as you were to focus on anything else but the soft, steady brush of his member.

“Remember, hon, you gotta stay focused,” he said, too sweet, “Chin up and keep those legs spread for daddy.”

They were. You were. Your head was up, just barely, and your eyes were nearly brimming with tears from just how badly you needed him inside you. You whined when he kissed the side of your mouth, but loved it all the same because it made you feel safe where you were. At ease.

Joel held you open for him, the shelf of his belly nudging at the small of your back and only pressing harder as he sank in deeper. It was a sensation that felt almost foreign, the first inches he’d breached, as he filled you from a new angle and held you close, you whimpered.

“Fuck, that pussy stretches out so nice for me,” Joel let out in a groan, “Feels like she’s made just for me, huh?”

At that, you felt a hand pinch both of your cheeks, forcing your mouth in a little pout as you nodded fiercely.

“Y-Yes, daddy, she’s made for you, all for you.”

One inch retreating, three more pushing in. Joel’s breath was hot on your ear again, and you could feel the soft grey tufts of hair on his tummy fold into themselves against your back as he pushed even deeper. His cock parted the insides of your walls and fucked you open like it was nothing at all. Your eyes stayed fastened on the television screen, but, frankly there wasn’t a thing on the LED display that was registering more than a passing thought. You felt the hand on your face squeeze even tighter, then release. Then your head was tilting sideways of its own volition, and your body was not—being moved by Joel’s gentle thrusts now—and your lips somehow met his in a kiss. One of his moans bled into your mouth.

“Look so. damn. pretty. when you’re like this,” he panted, “Never look better than when you’re fucked out on this cock, don’t ya, sweet pea? Nod your head and tell me.”

You nodded. You told him. Or whimpered it, anyway.

It was exactly the same and somehow nothing like you’d felt with him before: a new place, a new position, but then just the way you were letting him have you was a territory left entirely uncharted for you both. He could take, and take, and take, keep fucking you until his old joints gave out, and you were a vessel for that pleasure. Your body was limp; Joel’s frame was imposing and always holding you up, milking from your cunt what he needed and always praising you for how good it felt.

“My pretty girl,” he murmured, words like syrup. Then, each new one punctuated with a thrust as he sped up, “Gonna let daddy cum inside this tight little pussy?”

And, to his shock and yours, the hole he’d been using all this time grew wetter, more slick, then was pulsing with arousal as an influx of pleasure washed over your body—your brain had barely registered his words before the rest of you was making an even bigger mess of it, welcoming Joel deeper each time as your cunt spasmed over again.

Pressed into the sofa with your hips tilted down, now, you didn’t need to supply a verbal answer, just pulling Joel closer and pleading in broken moans to paint you white inside. He, like you, probably couldn’t have kept it from coming out if he tried. His hands were gripping your body, pushing you down with the weight of his grasp and his thrusts and feeling too fucked out to even know how much of himself he was pouring inside you as he came.

But it filled you to the hilt, all the way down his length.

In fact, there was a moment Joel feared he might’ve stuffed you more full of cum than you could take. You’d just barely come down, still moaning and shaking and dripping with more nectar than you’d ever felt before.

Joel tried to wipe the pussydrunk look from his eyes—terrible and greedy and wanting to see what he’d left—and he was just about to pull out to make sure you were alright, when he felt something grip him. On him and around him, pinching his wrist and squeezing his length inside you, you couldn’t help but turn back to face him.

Your eyes were smiling again.

One hand had just started to inch up his arm, kneading the flesh like you needed something from him then too. Only now your gaze was drifting down to the place where your body and his were still joined, and from that look, Joel sensed there had to be a lot of him there—which is why he was shocked when next you said sweetly, softly,

“Can I have a little more, daddy?”

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝕂𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕄𝕪 ℍ𝕒𝕥 𝕆𝕟

𝙲𝚘𝚠𝚋𝚘𝚢!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: cowboy!rafe, mutual pining, kissing, teasing, swearing, older!rafe, drinking, unprotected p in v, car sex, semi-public sex, soft!rafe, grumpy!rafe x sunshine!reader, gets in a fight with jj, teasing, mentions of blood, wet and messy, rafe is huge

📖 This is based on an ask by littlelamy for Cowboy!Rafe. Thank you for your ask, bb! After a messy breakup with a bartender at a rival bar, Cowboy!Rafe needs to find a new place to grab a beer. Turns out you were the sunshine he needed all along. This is also loosely based on my favorite TikTok edit LINK ♥️

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

Copperhead Road looks beautiful tonight… Well, it's as beautiful as any dive bar can look. It has its charm—dressed up for the holidays with string light and shimmery garland. The scratch of classic country Christmas songs plays over the speakers, marrying with the regulars as they sip on their Coors Banquets and whiskey neats.

It wasn’t much, but it was yours. Most days, you didn’t mind working doubles, especially around the holidays when money was tight. It paid the bills, and the regulars were sweet enough.

“Sweet pea,” Bonnie calls, stepping behind the bar with a smile. She’s an old-time bartender, a “lifer” at Copperhead— ‘too old for this shit’ or so she would say through a cigarette-rasped laugh. “Thank you for stayin’ late for me tonight.”

You give her a nod and a smile, tipping your head on her shoulder as she pulls you in for a hug. “Of course. How was the concert?” You ask.

She smiles brightly, digging her flip phone out of her pocket to proudly show pictures of her granddaughter singing at the Christmas service.

You look around the bar; just a few people hanging out. A younger crowd’s gathered in the corner, nursing some mixed drinks, waiting for the party to start.

“You stayin’ tonight?” She asks as she ties an apron around her waist

”Of course, Mrs. Bonnie… It’s Tuesday night,” you say through a smile as you take off your jean jacket, showing off your rest sparkly tank top. The older women ohs and aws, and you smile and giggle, already knowing that that’s the reaction you were gonna get. Your friend Max holds the door open to the person behind him, and a man grabs it, bringing the cold December wind with him.

He walks in slowly, eyes locked on the rack of liquor lining the wall— his energy letting you know the last thing he was here to do was dance. He tosses his gaze to the ground, walking the rest of the way up to a bar stool, his Carhartt Jacket zipper up and his hat blocking his eyes.

He pulls off his hat as he approaches a chair, revealing his caramel-colored hair, brushed back slightly, just a little fringe hanging down on his forehead. He’s handsome in that rugged cowboy way—in that way that would make any woman in the place swoon.

“He’s cute,” Bonnie coos as she steps behind you, whispering over your shoulder with a grin.

“He looks grumpy,” you chuckle as you loft the rag into the sani bucket, flicking the water off your hands.

“Maybe he just needs a beer and the company of a beautiful young lady,” she teases as she shakes her shoulders and smiles, making your cheeks warm up at the challenge.

“I don’t know… He looks like he doesn’t even want to be here,” you mumble as you grab a bar napkin and a pen.

“He just needs a little holiday cheer, Sweet Pea.”

You draw a deep sigh as you make your way down the line to him, feeling your excitement rise as you get closer. “Evenin’. Can I get you a beer?”

“… Obviously,” he mumbles as he fiddles with his rough hands.

You chuckle and tilt your head slightly, hoping he’ll come to the conclusion that he was an asshole on his own, but he might need a little help. “Well, aren’t you charming?”

His eyes lift at the sound of your voice, like he’s hearing it for the first time. That got his attention. His baby blue eyes lock on yours, sharp features softening fast.

His brows furrow as he looks back at you like he’s trying to figure something out. “Jesus, m’sorry,” he mutters, rubbing his big hand against the back of his neck. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. That wasn't polite…”

“No harm done,” you assure.

He hangs his hat on the hook and unzips his jacket. Your lashes flutter as he pulls it off his shoulders, showing off his white t-shirt underneath. You can see how fit he is under his shirt: his big biceps straining the fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination.

”You okay?” He chuckles. Your eyes tear away from his body, flickering to his as heat pools in your cheeks.

“Uh-Umm… Yeah. Of course. Bud Light?” You ask nervously, guessing his drink of choice.

“Bud heavy,” he sighs, it’s been a long day. And a shot of BV if you have it.” You pop open a bottle of beer resting it in front of him before draining a double-shot of Black Velvet whiskey in a glass.

He reaches into his pocket, grabbing his wallet, but you wave him off. “On the house,” you smile as you set the bottle back. “Are you okay?” You turn the question back to him as you pull out a different spirit for yourself.

He lets out a dry, tired laugh, hanging his head again just like he did when he came in. “Uhh… No. Not really,” he grabs the shot glass, tossing it back. “I broke up with my girlfriend a few days ago.”

“Oh,” you say gently as you search for his eyes. “That’s always rough. M’sorry to hear that…”

“Rafe,” he fills in the blank as you hold out the word, waiting for his name. He extends his hand, and you wipe yours on your skirt, resting yours in his. “Rafe Cameron.”

You introduce yourself as well. The contact between you lasts a little longer than normal, making your heart flutter. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, sweetheart.”

His pretty blue eyes follow you as you step around the bar, walking toward him. The corners of his lips curl into a smile as you get closer, pulling up a seat next to him. He turns toward you, making the gesture a little more intimate. “Sorry about before,” he mumbles again as he goes for his beer.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” you smile. “I’m used to crabby cowboys,” you tease.

“Well, I prefer brooding, but I deserve that,” he laughs against the lip of his bottle before taking a sip. “She’s a bartender too, down at Little Angie’s. Been going there for years. And honestly, it was my bar first, but I guess I can’t go there now,” he huffs, taking a long sip of beer before wiping his hand across his lips. “She cheated on me.”

“On you?” You ask as you cock an eyebrow, lifting your voice in disbelief, genuinely surprised but stroking his ego nonetheless; the man obviously needs it.

“What do you mean ‘on me’?” He drawls, half-hiding his smile with his hands before taking another swig, fishing for the compliment he knew you were feeding him.

“You’re very handsome, Rafe Cameron,” you smile. “Gotta fix that personality of yours, though,” you taunt as you poke him in his muscular chest, making him scowl jokingly.

“I’m a ray of fuckin’ sunshine, princess. The hell do you mean?” He asks, his voice sweet and raspy.

“She sounds like an idiot. I’m sorry,” you say earnestly, resting your hand on his blue jeans, giving him a sweet squeeze before pulling away. You watch a blush creep across his cheeks in the light of the neon moon.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he hums as he looks back at you. You bite back a dizzy smile as you glance at him.

“Well, lucky for you, Copperhead has better beer and better people,” you smile sweetly as you lean in a little closer.

“Mmm… Mhmm?” He chuckles, trying to fight back his wide smile. “Suppose you are one of those people, huh?” He asks.

“She is,” Bonnie adds as she sets down two more drinks, clearly delighted for you over this turn of events. “N’dosen’t she look stunning tonight?” She raises a question as she grabs two new bottles off the rail.

“Gorgeous,” Rafe croons. “Thank you.” He gestures toward the bottle before shifting in his seat, moving even closer than before. “Hear that? Said ‘thank you’ and everything.”

“Like gentleman,” you coo.

“That’s right,” he grins.

The music around you starts to turn up, you look over your shoulder, so lost in your conversation with Rafe that you didn’t notice the large crowd that had filled the space. You glance back toward the booths—your friends waving wildly as they catch your attention, eyes widening in approval of Rafe as well, making heat bloom in your cheeks

“Umm… I’m not sure if you’re free tomorrow, but if you are, I’m doin’ a breakfast with my friends at my place. You’re welcome to stop by.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he quirks an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“‘Course. Holidays suck alone.”

He bites his lip, contemplating your offer, the corners of his eyes creasing with the smile he’s holding back. “Might take you up on that, sweetheart.”

“Perfect,” you whisper. “What are you doing right now, cowboy?”

He throws his gaze away, laughing lightly at the title before returning his eyes to yours. “Nothin’. What do you have in mind?”

“Line dancin’ starts at eight…”

His face twists slightly, body turning away from you, toward the bar as to say ‘no.’ “Dancin’ is not really my thing,” he chuckles, nodding at Bonnie to come back down the line for another drink.

“Suit yourself,” you sing as you step off the barstool, leaning in slightly. “Enjoy your beer, handsome.”

The music shifts to something upbeat as you make your way toward your friends. The familiar rhythm takes over, and you go from one high with Rafe to the next. You shift your hips, moving your body to the beat.

One of the regulars steps in, Pope, a handsome rancher from down the way. He pulls you into his arms, whirling you around as he usually does.

You feel the heat of Rafe’s gaze from the bar. You glance over your shoulder for a moment—his eyes on yours, watching you with an unreadable expression. Before you can think about it much more, Pope twirls you under his finger, stealing your attention.

You feel a hand rest on your lower back, guiding you away, and you follow, slipping into Rafe's strong arms. He pulls you in close, arms wrapping around your body, lips curving into a grin.

“You dance?” You smile sweetly.

”Absolutely not,” he mumbles, his hold on you letting you know there was no way he would let you dance with anyone else tonight.

The music slows to something smoother. Rafe pulls you in close, the warmth of his big body sending shivers down your spine. You breathe in his scent—enveloped in his rich cologne, warm vanilla, and a hint of tobacco.

He matches your movements, shifting effortlessly with you as his rough hands roam your curves. “You’re pretty good at this,” you smile as you rest your hands on his chest, feeling his heart bang underneath.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he mutters through a smile.

The space between you gets closer and closer; the heat of Rafe’s breath on your hot skin makes your heart race. And just like before, the two of you were lost in your own world, yanked out by a large hand on Rafe’s shoulder.

“You fuckin’ kidding me?”

You look around Rafe’s as JJ’s wild blue eyes dart between the two of you, narrowing on his fast.

“The fuck is this?” JJ asks as he pulls Rafe off you, shoving him back.

“Back off, JJ,” you hiss as you step between the two of them.

“Is he botherin’ you?” JJ asks, looking around your shoulder, focusing more on the new man trying to take you away and less on the fact that you wanted him to go.

“No, JJ. You are. Just fuckin’ leave.”

JJ dismisses you again, stepping around you to get in Rafe’s face. “You think you can just walk in here and take what’s mine?” JJ spits and swings his fist, nailing Rafe in the cheek. Rafe returns a blow, landing square on JJ’s jaw fast, sending him stumbling back with his face clutched in his hands.

You grab Rafe as the bouncer grabs JJ, pulling the two men apart as they shout over the music. “That’s enough, JJ,” you shout, JJ’s darkened eyes never leaving him—Rafe, glaring right back at JJ with a smirk on his face. “Not fuckin’ leavin’, cupcake.”

“You're done,” the bouncer warns as he tightens his grip on your ex, dragging him back.

“Let go of me, Shoupe,” JJ grunts as he fights against him.

“Come on, baby,” you whisper, the name pulling Rafe’s focus back to you in a second. He smiles down at you, his cheek gashed and bloodied as he wraps his big arm around your shoulders, following you to the office.

Rafe crashes down on the chair, kicking out his boots, shaking his hand, eyeing his swollen knuckles with a groan. “Let me see,” you whisper as you move closer, setting the first-aid kit on the desk before sitting on his lap.

You hook your finger under his chin to get a better look as Rafe wets his lip and smiles, his twinkling eyes finding yours. ”It’s nothin’,” he hums, but you clean it anyway, the tough guy only letting a hiss slip past his lips as the alcohol soaks his skin.

“You’re not the only one with an asshole ex,” you whisper as you lean in a little closer, Rafe’s arms finding their way around your waist again.

“Guess we got that in common, princess,” he breathes as his eyes fall down your body in his arms.

You cup his cheek in your soft hand, and he shuts his eyes, melting into your touch. Before you know it, his lips are on yours, deep and deliberate, slow and sensual, sending sparks straight through you as his tongue rolls with yours.

He groans into your mouth, and you moan into him, savoring the taste of his sweet lips. His big hand inches up your body, but you grab his wrist, guiding his hand to your tit. “Fuck, baby,” he moans as he squeezes. Your hand rests against his chest as your tongues reel, your nails scratching down. “Lower,” he rasps and smiles against your lips, your slight hand pushing against his stiff dick in his Levi’s, making your pussy ache.

“Wanna get out of here?” You whisper as you draw a breath, lips quickly finding him again. Rafe smiles against your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his as he sucks off slowly.

“Your place or mine?” He asks through a smile.

The two of you not so much as get to his truck before he’s on you again, kissing you passionately, your fingers finding the handle of the back seat, pulling him inside with a smile. And for the third time tonight, the rest of the world fades away. The dark parking lot is crammed with cars—your ex presumably close, but none of it matters but Rafe.

He pulls you on to straddle his lap, his big hands cupping your face as he strokes your soft skin; Rafe’s beautiful blue eyes stare back into yours as you breathe deeply together.

"Baby,” he stops you as you lean in for more, his rough thumb tracing your plump bottom lip. “Is this alright?” He asks sweetly as his eyes fall to your lips, catching the slight space between you, staring at your lips hungrily, desperate for more, but the well-mannered man in him forces him to ask.

“You really are a gentleman, aren’t you?” You tease as he takes off his hat, resting it on your head. You run your fingers through his soft hair as he tips his head back, melting into your touch.

“You can keep my hat on, princess,” he hums as he pulls you closer, his warm lips pressing against your neck, moving higher. “You hear me, sweetheart?” He asks needily as your hands trace down his broad chest, fingers falling to his belt.

“Think I owe you for takin’ care of my ex.” You bite your lip as you tug the leather belt through the loops.

“I don’t think so, baby doll,” he hums as he rubs his thumb across your shoulder, lowering one strap and the other. “I was just payin’ you back for the beer,” he whispers through a playful smirk. You reach up, pulling your shirt and bra down around your waist, making Rafe release a deep groan.

He leans in, pressing his lips against yours— hungry and possessive. Your tongue tangles with his, separating briefly to tear him out of his thin white shirt as his hands cups your chest, thumbs brushing across your nipples.

You wrap your hands around his neck, grinding into the rock-hard bulge in his jeans. He quickly reaches down, tugging them down his thighs. “Keep going,” you whisper and chuckle lustfully against your lips, pulling his boxers down as well.

Rafe slides down in the seat, slightly guiding your arousal-pooled panties right on top of his dick, taking his lip between his teeth, rocking your body onto him as his mouth devours yours.

His hands wrap around your back, slipping under your skirt to grip and knead your ass, pulling moan after moan from your lips. His stiff cock rubs against your clit, making you toss your head back at the delicious friction between your thighs.

Rafe buries himself in your neck, his warm breath hot against your skin as he breathes you in. “Fuck, I need you,” he mumbles against your neck before sinking his teeth into you growing impatient.

“I’m so wet for you, Rafe,” you sigh as you taunt him further, squealing as he slaps your ass roughly with a laugh.

“I know, baby,” he chides. “Goddamn, I fuckin know. Just give it to me—let me have it. Yeah?” Your hips continue to rut shamelessly against his pulsing cock, making him take what he needs himself.

Rafe reaches under your skirt, ripping one side of your panties and then the next, tossing the soaked lace to the floor with a sigh of relief as he grips his heavy cock with one hand, lifting your body right where he wants you with the other arm making you gasp.

Rafe’s lidded eyes connect with yours, lips falling open with his as he pushes inside you entirely. Your grip his shoulders, hands trembling as a deep groan thunders in his chest, feeling your warm, wet cunt wrap around him tight.

“All that teasin’ for what?” He pants with a smile as he leans into your lips, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss.

“Told you I was wet,” you whisper, and he chuckles as his work-worn fingers find your clit, making you gasp.

“Told you I knew,” he drawls as his soft lips brush against yours. “You gonna let me cum in this pretty pussy, sweetheart. Make you even wetter?” He asks as he grabs your hips again, guiding you to roll your body just like you were before.

“Sh-Shit,” you shutter shakily, never feeling something quite this deep. “Mhmm, daddy… You gonna take me home?” You ask as you feel his big cock fill you to the brim.

“Callin’ me daddy? Shit… You’re gonna get a lot more than that, princess,” he smiles as he lifts your hips, fucking up into your soaked hole. “You’re not gettin’ rid of me.” You throw your head back; his hat tumbles off, skin slapping against the skin as the windows of his truck start to fog up.

Your lips crash against his, kissing him with deeply, feeling yourself about to lose control. “Fuck, Rafe… M’close,” you whimper against his lips.

“Yeah?”

”Yeah,” you pant. Rafe grabs your body, using his hold and his muscle to bounce you on his cock, again and again, pounding your pussy with his thick dick. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, warmth tightening around him. “Cum for me, pretty girl,” he groans. “Make a mess for me.”

Your pussy gushes and flutters around his big cock wetting his lap and his fingers.

“Atta, baby… Shittt,” he mumbles, hot against your skin. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he praises between rough thrusts, his orgasm coming fast and hard as he adds to the wet mess. The slick sounds of sex fill the cab— Rafe rocking to a stop between gentle kisses. He buries himself in your neck, pulling you into his heaving chest.

Rafe kisses your forehead—then your nose and your lips. “Goddamn,” he mumbles. “Let’s get you home, huh? Get you cleaned up.”

“Yeah, cowboy?” You ask breathily. Rafe kisses you again, lingering while your breathing slows together.

“Told you you’re not gettin’ rid of me, princess?”

[hislittleraincloud]

*inner Cairo whispers* I like that jacket.

They look both absolutely stunning!!!

[mausarchive]

crimson, wheat bread and also blew because i think you made a post about build a bear 😤

HAHA YES YAY id love to i want a spring green frog son SOOO BAD.