#i'm very sleepy i want moth cuddles

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

HFKSHIDJDJ I really, really enjoy reading your ramblings in the tags after I finish reading your writings :∆

hehe thank you it's where i put all the unorganized thoughts that i couldn't fit into the writing/brainrot itself :D i am glad you find them enjoyable :)

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) - Chapter 4

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SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ MDNI)

wc: 3.2k

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you.

tags: old west au, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, only one bed, Tommy and Maria, morally grey characters, reader has backstory, masturbation, hand job, spitting, the Confederacy?, moth never uses y/n

authors note: I'm very happy to be coming back to these two after a long break. I have the rest of this fic outlined so maybe there will be more soon? Big big thanks for @moonlitbirdie and @schnarfer for betaing and letting me yap about this way more than is necessary. And thank you to YOU for reading. If you're enjoying it, I'd love to hear from you because I know this isn't super popular but it's my favorite.

Joel barely sleeps that night. 

The two of you manage not to cuddle up in the small bed but the chain between you means you move in tandem. Every so often, you pull Joel’s wrist towards you, inviting his fingers to brush your plush thighs. When he pulls back and your arm is yanked in his direction, you roll over with a sleepy moan and his mind is sent reeling. 

You’re doing it purposely, he’s sure of it, trying to get a rise out of him even as you sleep. Well, you’ve succeeded, he supposes. The sun begins to illuminate the room in the early hours of the morning and he’s painfully hard. 

He hasn’t been with a woman since Tess. With Ellie in tow, there’s no opportunity to visit the brothels in Jackson. He knows he wouldn’t even if he were on his own. A man like him doesn’t deserve such luxuries as pleasure. 

He punches his pillow for the hundredth time then tugs on his hair until the roots sting. Sleep eludes him as he spends half the night with one eye open, the other half badgered by dreams— your eyes, the weight of you against him, that little strip tease you gave him. Joel palms at the stiff bulge over the wooly fabric of his union suit. He resents you for driving him to it. The combination of the insistent need and his frustration has his mind racing with lewd fantasies, all the ways he’d ruin you. On your knees putting that mouth to good use.  He wants you to fight, to claw at him and pound your fists against his chest. Wants you to call him a rotten bastard as he spears into you with his cock.

You’re still snoring beside him but he glances in your direction to make sure you’re still deep asleep. The sight that greets him has him throbbing. The thin light of dawn touches your skin, highlighting the crests of your curves. Arranged as you are, the neckline of your chemise gapes away from your chest revealing your breast and pebbled nipple. His breath catches, hand reflexively squeezing at his length. 

He doesn’t dare to breathe again until he’s freed himself from his underclothes and spit into his fist. His lower belly tightens as he works at his cock with careful strokes. It's torturously slow but if he moves faster, he might rattle the chain and wake you. The teasing pulls are enough, though. He doesn’t need much more than that with the desperation he’s endured all night. 

He fists his other hand in the sheets, willing it not to cup your breast. It’s so tantalizingly close he can practically feel the warmth coming off of your skin. Instead, he closes his eyes and imagines the feel of it— the supple give of your flesh, the bud of your nipple. 

The pace of his strokes increases as he sinks deeper into the fantasy. Raking your delicate skin with his teeth, sucking on your neck. Leaving marks. Giving you no mercy like the brute he is.  

Just as he’s beginning to twitch, thighs trembling, his wrist is snapped away. He snarls at the loss of pressure, the slap of his leaking cock against his belly as it springs from his grasp. His eyes snap open and you’re there, the chain in your grip, holding him at bay.

He stares at you in shock, his face flushing with shame and fear. It’s bad enough to be caught, quite literally, with his dick in his hand, but this is a decidedly vulnerable position. There’s no telling what you’ll do to get your freedom. Frozen, Joel waits for you to make a move, cursing himself for letting his desire get the best of him.

You study him with an inscrutable expression. Amusement ticks at the corner of your lips but your pupils are blown wide and your chest moves with shallow breaths. You keep the chain pulled tight but the fingers of your other hand close around his cock. It jumps as he hisses at your touch. You squeeze and give a stroke so long and slow, it forces all the air from Joel’s lungs.The sight of the tip of your tongue darting over your bottom lip nearly breaks him and then you release a thick froth of spit. It rolls down his length, warm and slick, pooling at your fist, an obscene vision.

He tells himself he’s powerless, trapped by the chain and pinned down by your stare, but he doesn’t want you to stop. It’s too good to fight. He melts under your touch, his eyes falling shut as you work at him. 

You’re silent the entire time, the room quiet save for his sharp breaths and the sound of flesh against slick flesh. His helpless hand clenches into a fist as you coil him into madness, the bite of the cuff around his wrist an exquisite pain. 

It builds quickly to an explosion of need and bliss as violent as a gunshot. His hips jump and toes curl and you keep milking him until he’s completely spent. 

Regaining his breath, Joel opens his eyes to find he’s coated your hand with his spend. The sight, a salacious mark on you, makes his softening length twinge. You lean forward, a smug smile on your lips. 

“You still gonna turn me over to the sheriff?” you taunt.

Your tongue runs over the length of your index finger, swiping up the pearlescent release. Joel fights to keep a groan contained.

“You gonna let me hang?”

You put your middle finger between your lips and hollow your cheeks as you suck. The wet squelch of your swallow makes him dizzy. Intrigued by your unabashed filth, he fights an urge to kiss you, to taste himself in your mouth and claim even more of you but the haze begins to lift. 

He remembers himself, realizes where he is and why he’s here in bed with you, that he’s let you get the upper hand. Suddenly, you feel too close. The room is too small, the smell of lavender choking him. He pulls his wrist back into his chest and sits up, turning away. You scoff quietly as he fixes the buttons on his underclothes.

You’re all contradictions. Sharp tongue, soft curves. Quick witted, patiently waiting for your chance to bolt. Infuriating, intoxicating. You’re not afraid of him, either. Most people are. Even grown men shake in their boots around him. It throws Joel kilter. 

He glances back in your direction, to see you wiping the remnants of him onto the bed sheet. Guilt and disgust tangle in his chest. He’s denied himself for so long, only to lose his senses over a pretty girl. One that’s all too happy to make him squirm, to use his desire against him. 

He has to get out of this room before the walls close in on him.

The first floor of The Boot smells like bacon and coffee. In the parlor, the passengers of the stage coach finish their meal, nothing but biscuit crumbs left on their plates. Tommy carries a copper kettle to the table Ellie’s claimed as she wipes sleep from her eyes.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a whole stack of flapjacks,” you say, seating yourself beside her on the bench. “How ‘bout you?” 

Joel ignores you, looking everywhere but your direction.

“I’m always hungry,” Ellie tells you, already clutching her knife and fork in her fists.

“No flapjacks but we got eggs,” Tommy says. 

“How about that,” you say. “I got woken up by an old rooster.”

Joel grinds his molars. He can feel you radiating with glee across the table. 

”That right?” Tommy asks. He’s got a confused half-smile on his face. “I didn’t hear him.”

When the food is served, you take each bite of food into your mouth slowly, wrapping your lips around your fork suggestively and moaning at the taste. All the while, you keep your eyes on Joel. It’s an absolutely silly little performance and yet it makes the back of his neck hot. His mind conjures up the way you licked your fingers clean of him and he’s practically throbbing again. 

He stands up while he still can.  

“Keep your eye on her,” he instructs Ellie and shuffles off across the room to where Tommy wipes down the stage party’s abandoned table. 

“So, what? You’re a bounty hunter now?” Tommy asks. He puts an enamel mug in front of his brother and pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Course not,” Joel says, watching the dark liquid. Coffee always gets him back to rights.

“Then what’re you doing with her?” Tommy nods towards you. 

Joel can’t help but follow his gaze and finds that you’re looking right at him. Your eyes strike him, one brow arched, and it feels like you’ve caught him all over again. He pulls his eyes away as quickly as he can. 

“Making ten thousand dollars,” Joel says. He’s not sure why it sounds like he’s lying but it does.“Place is shaping up nice,” he changes the subject. He looks around the room, trying to make the ratty armchair and rusty spittoon feel as captivating as your face.

“Yeah. Think it is. The stairs could use a little work and the roof was leaking something awful when the rain came through. But we’re getting on,” Tommy explains. Pride beams from his face. 

Joel never blamed his brother for leaving the life but that didn’t mean he thought it would end well. He looked after Tommy most of his life in one way or another– after their father died, giving him a job on the ranch. He’d even tried to talk him out of joining up and going off to war. Tommy was hardworking and strong and genuine. One thing he wasn’t– independent. 

That’s why he’d gone along with Joel when he turned to crime. It had started out of desperation. Joel needed money and he needed it fast. But then he’d lost everything– his home, his livelihood, Sarah. It didn’t feel like there was much point in doing anything other than stealing. He didn’t give a damn about the money, would rather set a match to it before he let those train men have a cent.

They’d been good at robbing trains and stagecoaches. The two of them had stashed away enough that Joel could’ve bought two ranches by now but he didn’t see the point in settling down now that he was alone.

Joel figured it was just a matter of time before Tommy came back to him but he’d made a nice little life for himself. He’d never say that out loud, give Tommy a big head, but, begrudgingly he’s happy for him.

“Listen, I ain’t just here for your hospitality. I’ve got something I’m working on,” Joel says, shifting his weight awkwardly. 

Tommy’s smile fades. 

“C’mon. Don’t ask me to do that,” he says. 

Joel sighs. 

“I’ve told you. I don’t want to do anymore robbing and stealing.”

“Look I ain’t asking you to do anything but listen,” he says. 

Tommy shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“It’s Cartwright,” Joel tells him. The name makes his chest ache, his mouth coated with bitterness at the words. He’s forced to envision the face the man that he hates. The only other time he feels as much disgust is when he’s looking in a mirror. 

His brother’s lips part and he exhales slowly, the meaning of Joel’s words hitting him heavily. Joel’s wasn’t the only life rocked by David Cartwright. “You sure?”

Joel nods. Tommy drags a hand over his mouth and Joel can see that his mind is racing.

“Alright,” he finally says in a hushed tone. “Not now. Maria’ll be doing laundry tomorrow. She’ll be out back all day. We’ll talk then.”

It’s too difficult to thank Tommy with the lump that’s formed in his throat so he gives a curt nod. He tries to erase Cartwright’s image from his mind but all he sees is Sarah and it cut even deeper.

Ellie scrapes the remnants of Joel’s breakfast onto her own plate.

She and Joel make an odd pair. For all of Joel’s stoicism, Ellie’s a firebrand, full of energy and enthusiasm. Considering the way he grumbles at just about every word that comes out of your mouth, why he chooses to keep this kid around is a mystery.

He’s not entirely obscure, though. He’s just a man when it comes down to it. You crack a smile at the memory of him crumbling beneath your touch.

You’ve done worse for lesser rewards. Life’s been about survival for you, doing what you needed to to get by. Men, oftentimes, were the easiest way to get those things.

You’d awoken to the sound of Joel’s jagged breaths, the soft clinking of the iron chain. You knew he was thinking about you as he fisted his cock. You’d seen that hungry look in his eye as you undressed for him. 

This was your chance to grab him by the balls and demand your freedom but waking up after being surrounded by him, the musky scent and his big arms cradling you all night, your curiosity got the best of you. He’d become a man rendered wild. Neck taught, teeth bared, nostrils flaring. Completely unaware of anything but his own pleasure. You needed to know what it would look like when he fell apart. 

What you hadn’t expected was how it would change him. How it smoothed the lines in his forehead when he finished. And you had no idea that the choked sound he made would wash you with heat. You didn’t think you’d be pressing your thighs together. That hadn’t happened before. 

“So what did you do to get that bounty? I won’t tell him,” Ellie says. 

You tear your thoughts away from that morning. It’s not helping your cause getting all hot and bothered for your captor. 

“Welp, my brother stole a hundred dollars from me. So I killed him,” you tell her. 

“That’s bullshit,” she says. 

You smile. She’s a smart kid and she’s got a mouth on her. Reminds you a bit of yourself back in the day. Except, of course, you were busy batting your eyes at boys. You got into your fair share of trouble but that was amateur compared to what Ellie’s accomplished. 

She’s a kindred spirit so you’d like to tell her. Problem is, it hurts too much. And you don't think you can adequately describe just how green Nell’s eyes were. And if she doesn’t know that, then how could the rest of it make any sense? 

“Listen,” you offer, “how’s about I tell you if you’ll tell me something?”

She nods eagerly. 

You look at Joel, deep in conversation with his brother. He’s well out of earshot and preoccupied. You lean forward on the table, eyes sliding to Ellie. 

“Who’s Sarah?” you ask. 

You’ve been wondering about her. She must be something special if she haunts Joel’s dreams and that might give you some clue to what makes him tick. 

Ellie’s face changes. Her eyes dart over to him and then away. The past three days she’s filled every moment with chatter and suddenly she’s tongue tied. 

“Joel doesn’t like to talk about her,” she says.  

You don’t say anything, just give her silence to fill with an answer. Her lips twist, brow knit in thought. You’ve got ideas about who this Sarah might be. A lover, a wife. You’re dying to know if you’re on the mark. Ellie swallows and you think she’s just about ready to tell you.

“I could use your help in the kitchen,” you hear Maria say. You’re in such focused suspense it’s as if she’s appeared as if out of thin air. 

You almost swear aloud but you plaster a big smile on your face while you think about throttling Maria for snatching this delicate moment away.

“Why certainly,” you say. You stand from your seat. As much as you want to unlock the mysteries of Joel Miller, getting out of this parlor and into Maria’s good graces is probably an easier route to escape. 

“I’m watching her,” Ellie announces. 

Maria sighs at Ellie. “Then you can come too. ‘Bout time you lend a hand here.”

The only kitchen work Maria entrusts to you is doing the washing up. When you said you knew how to cook, that wasn’t entirely true. Nell taught you how to cook one or two dishes but you’d never been practiced in the kitchen. Dishes, though, you’ve had plenty of experience with.

Ellie sits on a table, legs wide as she peels potatoes with her knife, sighing periodically so that everyone knows she’s bored. Maria ignores this and hums to herself as she chops carrots.

She’s wearing a simple brooch at her collar, a golden hoop embossed with flowers. It reminds you of another brooch, the emerald one you stole out of Mrs. Coxcombe’s jewelry box. You try to recall Nell’s face when you presented it to her. She’d laughed and said “You’re bold as brass,” and the words danced in her pretty accent. That’s when you realized the stone really didn’t shimmer the same as her eyes. 

It’s hard to remember her the way she was before that last time, when she looked at you with horror and disgust. That’s all you see anymore. You pull yourself from the thought before it stings. 

“Now, Miss Maria, I’m mighty curious how a genteel lady such as yourself ended up married to a member of an outlaw gang,” you say, dunking one of the breakfast plates into the hot water. 

Ellie guffaws when you refer to Maria as ‘genteel.’ Maybe you’re laying it on a little thick. 

“Now I can understand,” you continue. “He’s a good looker. But you strike me as sensible enough not to get swept off your feet by a pretty face.” 

Maria smiles softly.

“He’s a good man,” she says, pushing the onions aside and starting on a big, orange yam. “He’s loyal and brave. And he makes me laugh. He’s just been a little misled.” 

Ellie scoffs angrily.

“Joel never made him do anything,” she says. “I would know.” 

Maria sighs. “Joel’s his older brother. Tommy looks up to him.” 

“Did Joel make him join up with the rebels?” Ellie snipes. 

Your eyebrows raise. With his affable smile, it’s hard to imagine Tommy as a soldier let alone in a Confederate uniform.

“Don’t that make the two of you even more peculiar,” you say. 

Maria schools her expression and wipes her hands on her linen apron.

“Tommy’s made mistakes in his time,” she says evenly. “When you get older, you begin to have regrets.” 

You have a feeling these two have clashed over this before— Ellie with the sweet arrogance of youth, Maria understanding all the shades of gray the world presents. Their little squabble doesn’t really interest you. You keep them sniping at each other as you take a fork out of the wash basin’s murky water. The two of them are so busy with their argument, neither notice you drop it to the floor and tuck it under your skirts.

”We’ve all made mistakes,” you say. “I’ve made plenty myself. But we all deserve a second chance, don’t we?”

It seems neither of them can argue with that. Ellie tilts her head to the side, allowing her agreement. Maria nods along sagely. 

You’ve gone through a hundred second chances but right now, you just need one more.

-

Chapter 5

Thanks for reading! My asks are always open!