vaquerospurs

[vaquerospurs]

Firewater - Chapter 11

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

You’d rehearsed it. A dozen times. A hundred. You’d tried gentler ways to start. Tried to imagine how a reasonable person might say it. But nothing ever sounded right in your head. Nothing made it easier.

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SILENT STEAD, NEW AUSTIN, OCTOBER 1897

-

It was official.

Two months late, and no amount of desert heat, denial, or whiskey could explain it away anymore.

The truth sat heavy in your gut as you rode beside Arthur across the ridge, the wind catching the edge of your shirt, your heart beating louder than the horse’s hooves. You didn’t say a word for miles.

You’d rehearsed it. A dozen times. A hundred. You’d tried gentler ways to start. Tried to imagine how a reasonable person might say it. But nothing ever sounded right in your head. Nothing made it easier.

And Arthur Morgan wasn’t exactly a man you could ease into things with.

So, eventually, you just... said it.

Blunt and bitter. Like ripping a bullet out of a fresh wound.

“You got me pregnant, dumbass.”

Arthur reined in his horse so hard the poor thing jolted, snorted, and kicked up dust.

He turned his head slowly toward you, jaw slack. “What?”

You stared him down, arms crossed over your saddle horn. “You heard me.”

He blinked, looked you up and down, mouth working like he’d forgotten how to form a sentence. Then finally—

“Well... shit.”

You arched a brow. “That’s all you got to say?”

He scratched his beard like the answer might be hiding in there somewhere. “I mean, you sure?”

“Two months late. Tired all the damn time. Getting sick after breakfast, even when Javier cooked the other day. I’d say yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.”

Arthur let out a long, stunned breath and glanced out at the empty desert, like maybe the cactus and coyotes might have advice for him. “Well... damn.”

He looked back at you, lips twitching. “You sure I’m the only fella you been rollin’ in the dirt with lately?”

You shot him a glare that could kill. “Try that again and I’ll shove your hat so far up your ass, it’ll come out with a kiss on it.”

He held up both hands, palms out, laughing despite himself. 

But the silence that followed wasn’t easy. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes searching your face, trying to read what came next.

“You mad at me?” he asked.

You sighed, looking down at your reins. “No. Just... overwhelmed. Terrified. Queasy. My life flashing before my eyes. You know, normal womanly stuff.”

Arthur nodded slowly, lips pressed together like he was chewing on something real big. Then he said, “Well... guess I really did put my back into it, huh?”

You let out a snort, despite yourself. “Congratulations. You’ve won the worst timing and worst pullout in history.”

He grinned, sheepish. “You ain't wrong.”

Another pause. A longer one.

He looked serious now. “You thinkin’ of... keeping it?”

Your eyes met his. You hadn’t let yourself really answer that question. Not out loud. You hadn’t gotten that far in all of your fretting.

“I don’t know,” you said softly. “I think I could. If I wasn’t doing it alone.”

Arthur’s eyes flickered with something—surprise, then resolve. He reached over and laid his big, gloved hand over yours on the reins.

“You ain’t gonna be alone,” he said, voice low. “Not if you don’t wanna be.”

Your throat tightened.

He cleared his throat, like his own emotions were rising faster than he could get ahold of. “Hell, I don’t know nothin’ about babies. But—I’ll do you right.”

-

Tumbleweed shimmered in the heat like a mirage by the time you reached it—just dust and dry wind and the lazy creak of the gallows swaying on their ropes next to the Sheriff’s office.

Arthur dismounted first, eyes sweeping the street like he didn’t trust the place one bit. He offered you a hand to help down, and you took it, even though you didn’t need it. He held on a second longer than he had to.

“You sure you wanna go in alone?” he asked, voice low.

You looked up at him, heart beating somewhere too high in your chest. “You planning to come in and hold my hair if I puke on the floor?”

He chuckled, scratching at the back of his neck. “Fair point.”

Still, he walked you to the doctor’s door.

The little clapboard building creaked under its own weight. The bell on the door rang when you stepped inside, loud and shrill in the stale desert air.

The doctor was older, sun-worn, with thick glasses and tobacco-stained fingers. He looked you up and down and didn’t ask unnecessary questions. Just motioned you to the back room, told Arthur he could wait on the porch or by the hitching post.

Arthur nodded, but you saw the tension in his jaw as he let the door close behind you.

The exam was short. Blunt. Nothing tender about it—but not cruel, either. Just factual. You’d met men like that before. Practical, used to pulling bullets from thighs and stitching up bar fights. He didn't blink when you told him your symptoms. Just nodded once and checked a few things.

“Well,” he said, looking you over, “ain’t no doubt. You’re pregnant. I’d wager about eight, maybe ten weeks along. Could be a little more.”

You stared at the wall, at a water stain vaguely shaped like a cloud. That was definitely around the night in the hotel in Phoenix.

“Healthy?” you asked.

“So far as I can tell,” he said. “You’re young, strong. You keep eating and stay clear of heavy riding or gettin’ shot, you oughta do just fine.”

You didn’t smile.

Didn’t say thank you.

You just nodded, throat thick, and got dressed again with slow, shaking fingers.

-

Arthur was leaning against the porch post when you came out, arms crossed tight across his chest, hat tilted low.

He straightened when he saw your face.

“Well?”

You nodded. “It’s real.”

He let out a long breath, looked up at the sky like maybe he was hoping for lightning. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Alright.”

You stood beside him for a moment, both of you staring out at the horses tied off in the heat.

“Doc said I’m eight or ten weeks,” you murmured. “Could be more. But that lines up with that night in Phoenix.”

Arthur nodded, then shifted his weight like he wasn’t sure whether to hug you or just go buy a bottle of whiskey and ride into the hills. God, if he did that you don’t know what you would do.

Instead, he reached for your hand again. Rough fingers, warm and solid.

You let him hold it.

Neither of you spoke for a minute.

Then Arthur cleared his throat. “You hungry?”

You blinked, obviously not prepared for a response like that. “What?”

He nodded toward the little saloon down the street. “Ain’t much, but they got beans and biscuits. Might be somethin’ passable on the stove.”

You gave him a strange look. “You asking me to dinner?”

He glanced at you, one brow raised. “You did ask me to take you out.”

A laugh cracked out of your chest, sudden and bright. It caught even you off guard.

Arthur’s grin spread, boyish and crooked, like he was proud of himself for dragging that sound out of you.

“Fine,” you said, brushing the dust off your shirt and shaking your head. “But if I throw up on your plate, I ain’t apologizing.”

The saloon in Tumbleweed smelled like smoke, spilled whiskey, and a hundred old regrets. The tables were scratched. The floor creaked under every step. The bartender didn’t say a word when you walked in—just nodded and went back to wiping out dusty glasses with a dirtier rag.

You and Arthur sat in a booth near the back, near a broken window where a breeze stirred the fabric masquerading as curtains every so often. The wind kicked in grit, and the lamp above the table flickered, half-starved for oil.

But somehow, it felt… easier here. Quieter. Certainly quieter than inside your own head.

He ordered for both of you—beans, dry cornbread, and a side of something that might’ve once been pork. You didn’t eat much, stomach still knotted with nerves and morning sickness that wasn’t limited to mornings, but you picked at the bread. Arthur didn’t say anything when you pushed your plate away halfway through. Just slid the rest of it over and finished it himself.

You caught him glancing at you a few times. Not staring—just checking. Like he was waiting to see if you’d break apart.

But you didn’t.

When he leaned back in the creaky booth and took a slow pull of his drink, his voice came quiet. “We can ride back tonight, if you want. Camp’s only a few hours out.”

You hesitated, watching him over the rim of your water glass. Then you said it, soft and small.

“We could stay.”

His brow lifted. “You sure?”

You nodded, fingers twisting the edge of your napkin. “Just for the night. Might be nice to not wake up to Pearson yelling about eggs.”

Arthur huffed a quiet laugh, but his gaze stayed on you. He set his glass down slowly.

“Alright.”

-

The room upstairs wasn’t much. One bed, one cracked mirror, a half-empty oil lamp that sputtered when Arthur lit it. The wallpaper peeled in every corner. The mattress creaked like it might collapse if either of you breathed too hard.

But it had a door that locked. And it was yours for the night.

You stood near the bed, arms wrapped around yourself, suddenly aware of how quiet it was. Arthur busied himself with taking off his gunbelt, setting it on the little table near the washbasin. His movements were slow. Careful.

Like he didn’t want to spook you. Like you were a damn horse.

You sat on the edge of the bed and finally said it—voice barely above a whisper.

“Just because I’m pregnant... doesn’t mean whatever this is has to stop.”

Arthur turned to face you.

There was a beat of silence, and then he crossed the room in two strides and crouched in front of you, eyes searching yours.

“Good,” he said, voice low, rough. “Because I still wanna do all kinds of terrible things with you.”

That pulled a smile from your lips before you could stop it. You shook your head, laughing quietly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re trouble,” he murmured, rising to his feet, leaning in slow.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t want to.

His mouth met yours, gentle at first—like he was asking. Like he was waiting for you to pull back.

But you didn’t.

You kissed him like you meant it, fingers tangling in his shirt, legs parting just enough to pull him closer between your knees.

His hands were on your thighs, sliding upward, strong and familiar. Yours were already tugging at his suspenders, hungry in the way you always were for him, even now—with the world turned sideways and new life quietly growing inside you.

It was slower this time. Not rushed. Not hidden behind a rock or stolen behind the wagons.

It was need.

It was reassurance.

It was yes, over and over again in the way only your bodies knew how to speak. 

Maybe someday the two of you would learn to use your words.

-

The sun had just barely risen outside, its orange beams painting the floor of the ratty old hotel room.

You sat upright, your stomach’s queasiness somewhat quelled by the change in position. It's already hot, the sheet that had covered the two of you kicked away in the night. Your hand landed over your stomach almost unconsciously, knowing strangely that something was happening underneath it. That you would swell and grow and your breasts would get heavy. 

You looked over at your bedmate, sleeping on his stomach, softly snoring. His skin littered with scars - bullet wounds and slash marks and a hard life lived. But asleep, somehow the lines in his face disappear, the weight of the world lifted, if only for a moment.

Your heart ached as you looked at him. Rough around the edges, sunburned and dusty and not at all the man you ever imagined raising a child with.

But... maybe that was the point.

[vaquerospurs]

Firewater - Chapter 10

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

The camp moves, and you start counting days.

taglist: @v3lv3tf0x, @stottlemorgan, @mrsarthurmorgan7, @appalachiancowboy99, @pinescent-and-gingerbread, @blueskies664, @arthurstinmug, @ultraporcelainpig, @emerald-ranch @thedilfdiaries, @heron-feathers,@nalitali, @whiskeyskin, @globetrotter28

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JUST SOUTH OF RATHSKELLER FORK, NEW AUSTIN, SEPTEMBER 1897

-

You knew it was coming before Dutch said a word.

The tension had been building for days—quiet conversations behind closed wagons, hushed arguments between Dutch and Hosea, the way Javier kept glancing south like he was waiting to see torches or lawmen on the horizon.

And then finally, Dutch stood before the fire one morning, coat dusted with red earth, brim low over his eyes, and said, “We ride east. Today.”

No one asked why. Not aloud.

But everyone knew.

Phoenix had gone bad. So they packed up.

You helped Bill strap down the last crate, your fingers raw from folding canvas and tying ropes. Arthur was somewhere near the horses, checking saddles, chewing the inside of his cheek the way he always did when Dutch got twitchy.

You glanced back only once as the wagons rolled out—toward the distant haze where Phoenix had once meant opportunity.

All it meant now was trouble.

-

The crossing into New Austin was brutal.

Long days of blistering sun, cracked lips, and endless dust. Every night, the wind howled and filled your blankets with grit. The horses were spooked by snakes more than once. The wagons creaked like they were begging to give out. Even Dutch seemed quieter, less grand, more bone-tired.

You watched Jack whimper in his sleep one night, overheated and miserable. Abigail wiped sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand and didn’t say a word.

But then—just when the silence felt like it might swallow everyone whole—the dust began to change. The earth took on a lighter red. The canyons opened up. You saw hawks circling overhead and could smell scrub pine in the wind.

And then came the low roofs and crooked fences of Rathskeller Fork on the horizon, like the last teeth in a broken jaw.

Dutch raised his hand and called for a stop just short of the outskirts. A little patch of land tucked against a rock face, shielded from the road and blessedly flat.

“This’ll do,” he said.

And just like that, the gang began to settle.

-

The new camp rose with practiced hands and a kind of bone-deep weariness no one wanted to speak aloud. You helped pitch the tents again and found a new rhythm. Charles built a makeshift corral. Pearson set up his supplies. Even Reverend Swanson managed to find a shady place to pass out most afternoons.

At night, the air was cooler, and the stars looked different—sharper, brighter somehow.

The desert stretched out around you like it had secrets. Like it had room.

Maybe it did.

You weren’t sure if this place would hold long. Nothing ever did for Dutch. But for now, Rathskeller Fork was quiet. No law breathing down your neck. No smoke trailing you like a curse.

Just red dirt, dry wind, and the long road still ahead.

-

You spotted Jack first—his little feet kicking up dust as he toddled after a moth, unsteady but determined, arms flailing like wings. His shirt was too big for him again, sleeves dragging past his wrists. His hair stuck out in all directions like it hadn’t seen a brush all week.

You smiled without meaning to.

He was talking to himself, or maybe to the moth, or maybe to nothing at all. Just little murmurs and hiccuping giggles. He fell once—sat hard in the dirt and blinked, surprised—but got back up without a sound, brushing at his pants like he’d seen the men do.

You kept still where you stood near the laundry line, pretending to adjust a damp shirt as you watched him. That was the thing about kids—you could never look too long or they’d notice. And Jack was the sort who'd come running over just to show you a rock shaped like a potato or a stick shaped like a gun.

But then you heard the voices.

Abigail’s first—sharp and low.

“John, he needs you around. You can’t just ride off whenever Dutch waves his damn hand.”

And John’s reply—frustrated, tired, like he’d already run out of patience before she’d finished her sentence.

“I ain't runnin' off! I'm doin' what Dutch asks so we all eat! That includes Jack!”

The boy kept wandering, oblivious to the storm behind him, chasing his little adventure through the camp's dust.

You tried not to listen, but it was hard not to.

“He asked where you was this morning,” Abigail snapped. “And yesterday. And the day before. I had to lie again, say you were off fishin’. He’s three, John. He’s startin’ to notice.”

There was a pause, and then John’s voice, quieter.

“I don’t know how to be that kind of father, Abigail.”

Your chest tightened.

Jack plopped down in the dirt again, this time just to poke at a beetle crawling across a stick. His little shoes, too big for him, kicked idly. He hummed tunelessly to himself.

“I ain’t askin’ you to be perfect,” Abigail said, voice worn thin now. “Just show up.”

You caught her face for half a second as she turned away from John—tight, jaw set, eyes a little too bright. She stormed past the tents and disappeared toward the wagon.

Jack didn’t look up.

John stood there a while longer, hands on his hips, watching the boy. Maybe thinking. Maybe regretting. Hard to say with Marston.

You looked away then, folding the wet shirt and hanging it up properly this time.

When you glanced back, Jack had gotten distracted by something new—a tumbleweed, maybe—and John had walked away.

And for a moment, the camp was quiet again, like it hadn’t heard a thing.

–

It started with a vague unease.

The sun had risen hard and hot over the desert again, casting its blinding white light across the ridge where you sat beside your horse, pretending to study the horizon. But your mind wasn’t on the job.

You were counting days.

You’d been counting them since the night Arthur finished inside you—accidentally, desperately, completely. You’d told yourself not to panic. But now… the days weren’t adding up right.

You hadn’t bled.

You sat there in the heat, watching a dust devil twist in the distance, your heart thudding a little too fast.

Arthur was somewhere nearby, checking the trail for signs of movement. You could hear his horse’s hooves, the familiar creak of leather and quiet hum of him talking to himself as he worked. Comforting sounds. Steady sounds.

He didn’t know. You hadn’t told him.

You couldn’t.

Not yet.

-

That night, you snuck out of camp, as you and he were oft to do. His hands wandered, warm and familiar, and yours did too. His lips were on your neck, his breath hot, voice low as he murmured your name like it was the only one he knew.

You let him.

You let him touch you like nothing had changed. Let him kiss you slow and hard, roll you beneath him and lose himself in you like he always did.

Because when he was inside you, when your mouths met and his hands curled against your skin like he couldn’t get close enough— you didn’t feel afraid.

You felt alive.

You didn’t think about missed blood or what-ifs or what next.

You only thought about him. About this.

The way he held your face as you gasped beneath him. The way he whispered, “There she is,” like he’d been waiting all day just to see you unravel.

You kissed him like your life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

-

In the morning, he brought you coffee and smirked when he saw the bruises blooming on your hips. “Gonna be sore after last night.”

You scoffed, sipping from the tin cup. “Ain’t my first time on top of a wild animal.”

Arthur raised a brow. “You talkin’ about me or your horse?”

“Guess you’ll never know.”

But the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. And Arthur noticed, even if he didn’t press.

-

Days passed. You kept waiting.

But nothing came.

At camp, you laughed with the others, stole kisses with Arthur in the shadows, snuck off behind rocks and trees and the half-burned ruins of a Spanish Mission. He kept pulling you in like he was starving for you. Like you were the only thing tethering him to the ground.

And you let him.

You’d lean back against the wagon, legs still trembling, his breath hot against your neck, and pretend the tension in your chest was just leftover heat—not fear.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know you were late. Didn’t know every time he held you, a little voice in your head screamed what if, what if, what if.

-

Sometimes, late at night, you found that you couldn’t sleep.

And you’d lie there, one hand resting low on your stomach, wondering what the hell you were going to do if it turned out what you feared was true.

What would he say?

What would you do?

You didn’t know.

So you didn’t say anything at all.

-

You kept pretending.

You kissed him hard in the back of the stable at Rathskeller one day when the two of you went to reshoe your horses, your shirt halfway open and your hands already unbuckling his belt.

“You’re insatiable,” he groaned, breathless against your mouth.

You smirked. “What can I say? You’re pretty.”

-

And still, nothing came.

No blood. No sign. Just nausea some mornings and fear curling tighter in your gut with every passing hour.

You were running out of time.

You could feel it.

[vaquerospurs]

Firewater - Chapter 9

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

Dinner and a date? How unlike the two of you.

taglist: @v3lv3tf0x, @stottlemorgan, @mrsarthurmorgan7, @appalachiancowboy99, @pinescent-and-gingerbread, @blueskies664, @arthurstinmug, @ultraporcelainpig, @emerald-ranch @thedilfdiaries, @heron-feathers,@nalitali, @whiskeyskin, @globetrotter28

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You hadn’t expected him to follow through.

Not really.

But there you were, walking into the saloon in town beside Arthur Morgan—clean-shaven and wearing his least-dirty shirt, looking like a man about to meet his girl’s daddy for supper.

You raised an eyebrow as you glanced at him. “Did you bathe for this?”

He shot you a sideways look. “Figured if I was takin’ a lady to dinner, I ought to at least smell like soap instead of sweat.”

You smirked. “Not sure you’re a gentleman yet, but I’ll give you points for tryin’.”

Inside, the place smelled of tobacco, whiskey, and something vaguely fried. Not exactly fine dining, but the little corner table Arthur led you to was surprisingly clean. A single candle flickered in a cloudy glass holder.

He pulled out your chair with a smirk, gesturing for you to sit.

“Arthur Morgan,” you said, amused, “are you courting me?”

“Depends,” he said, sitting opposite you, the candlelight catching the gold flecks in his eyes. “Would it work?”

You tilted your head. “If I said yes, would that mean you’d stop tryin’ to get under my skirt every ten minutes?”

Arthur leaned back, grin lazy and dangerous. “Oh no, I’d still try. I’d just buy you dinner first.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled.

A waitress brought over two steaming plates of stew, and Arthur ordered whiskey for both of you. You dug in with a contented sigh.

He watched you eat for a moment. “You gonna marry that spoon or what?”

You licked your lips slowly. “I might, if it kept makin’ me feel like this.”

Arthur choked on his drink.

You shrugged. “What? Ain’t my fault the stew was good.”

“Reckon I should’ve picked somethin’ less sensual than stew,” he muttered, half to himself.

You leaned forward on your elbows and nibbled on the spoon in a way most folks would find inappropriate in public.

Arthur raised his brows, smirking. “You tryin’ to make me ruin this table?”

You chuckled, sipping your whiskey in reply.

As the bottle emptied, so did your inhibitions. Banter turned to flirting, flirting to heat.

Arthur licked his thumb clean after a bite of bread, and you stared far too long.

“You good?” he asked.

“Mmhm,” you said. “Just picturin’ that mouth somewhere else.”

He exhaled sharply, clutching his glass like it might steady him. “You say that kinda thing, and you expect me to behave myself?”

You swirled your drink and gave him an innocent look. “I said you had to take me to dinner. Didn’t say nothin’ about how we’d end the night.”

Arthur’s gaze darkened.

“’Cause if we’re bein’ honest,” you continued, voice low and silken, “the food’s nice, but I’ve had better.”

Arthur pushed back his chair with sudden purpose. “Come on.”

You blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.” His voice was rough, amused, hungry. “I paid for a room. Got the key. Let’s go before I do somethin’ improper at this damn table.”

Your heart leapt into your throat as you stared at him, then stood.

The walk through the saloon crackled with electricity.

Every inch between you felt like fire. You didn’t touch, but his hand hovered near the small of your back, and the moment the upstairs hallway door clicked shut behind you, you moved.

He backed you gently into the wall, lips ghosting over yours.

“You sure?” he murmured.

You slid your hands into his collar, tugging him closer. “Shut up and kiss me.”

The room was dim, lit only by the amber glow of a single oil lamp. Somewhere outside, the piano clinked out a sloppy tune, muffled by thick walls and heavier breathing.

Your dress hung halfway down your arms, Arthur’s hands resting at your waist like he was still deciding whether to kiss you or drop to his knees. He looked… almost reverent, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

You broke the silence first.

“If you stare at me like that much longer, Morgan, I might start gettin’ self-conscious.”

He blinked, mouth twitching into a grin. “Sorry. Just didn’t expect heaven to have tits like this. Don’t know why it took me so long to get you naked.”

You snorted, tugging the rest of the fabric off and letting it fall. “Flattery’s cute. Get your damn shirt off.”

He obeyed with a grunt, pulling the garment over his head and tossing it aside. When your eyes swept over him—broad chest, old scars, the trail of hair down his stomach—you bit your lip.

“You are a big bastard,” you said, half-laughing. “No wonder my back still ached from last time.”

Arthur chuckled, stepping closer. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take my time breakin’ you in proper.”

You arched a brow, and pushed your dress down to the floor along with your drawers. “You’re talkative tonight.”

“Whiskey,” he replied. “And you walkin’ around lookin’ like temptation itself.”

When his hands touched your bare hips, everything slowed. He looked down at you, thumb brushing your side, the pads of his fingers callused but warm. He looked you up and down—from your breasts down your waist to that apex of your thighs he’d recently visited so often, where dark hair covered your most sensitive skin.

“I ever tell you how pretty you are?” he murmured as he dragged his thumb under your belly button.

You rolled your eyes. “Once, I think. Right after you had your head between my legs.”

He gave a short laugh. “Well. That still counts.”

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, soft at first, then deeper.

Before long, he was walking you backwards toward the bed, the last bits of his clothing tossed aside between kisses, gasps, and muttered swears. And when you were both finally bare, standing at the edge of the bed, the mood shifted—just for a heartbeat. The two of you stood, completely nude to each other for the first time.

Arthur stared at you like he’d been shot clean through. His hand reached up, brushing lightly over your ribs, then lower, his fingers parted that thatch of hair to slide between your folds, already finding you aroused.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “You’re…”

“Don’t you dare say beautiful,” you cut in, smirking as your fingers encircled his cock, squeezing gently.

“Was gonna say dangerous.” He grunted, watching your movements intently.

You smiled. “Damn right.”

He kissed you then, slower now. Deeper. The heat was still there, but something else had crept in, like he was memorizing you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you nudged him back toward the mattress. Arthur wasn’t expecting to be pushed.

Not hard—but firmly enough that his back hit the mattress with a soft grunt, his arms instinctively catching him before he leaned all the way back.

You were already on him, one knee sliding up the edge of the bed, hands braced on either side of his chest, a smirk playing at your lips.

“Well,” he drawled, voice low. “This is new.”

You gave him a slow once-over, admiring the long, broad stretch of him beneath you—shirtless, pants long gone, the lamp’s golden glow casting soft shadows across every muscle and scar.

“Figured it was my turn,” you said, shifting to straddle his pelvis. You settled down on his cock, your folds parted as his length settled against your most sensitive skin.

His hands found your hips like they always did, fingers twitching with the urge to squeeze. “Not complainin’. Just surprised you didn’t do this sooner.”

“I like lettin’ you think you’re in charge,” you said sweetly, beginning to rock back and forth over him. “Keeps you well-behaved.”

Arthur chuckled, head tilting back against the pillow. “You ain’t ever known me to be well-behaved.”

You leaned forward until your mouth was just shy of his, hands flat on his chest. “Maybe I like it better when you don’t behave.”

He caught your waist, thumbs brushing the bare skin beneath your ribs. His eyes burned, but he let you lead. For now.

You leaned down and kissed him slowly and deliberately, like you were daring him to pull control back. He didn’t. He kissed you back just as deeply, groaning low in his throat when your teeth grazed his bottom lip. Your hips moved slowly over him, the head of his cock pressed hard against your clit, deliciously.

“You’re drivin’ me insane,” he muttered against your mouth.

“That’s the point.”

You shifted again, watching his jaw clench as your hips rocked forward, just a little, enough to make his breath stutter. His hands tightened on your waist, but he didn’t flip you over, didn’t pin you down.

Not yet.

“You always so good at takin’ your time?” he asked, voice rough.

You dragged your lips along his throat, up to his jaw, speaking just beneath his ear.

“Only when I know the man under me’s about to lose his damn mind.”

Arthur huffed out a laugh—but it broke halfway through when you moved again. His fingers dug in now, trying and failing to stay still.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “You got no idea what you’re doin’ to me.”

“I think I do.”

His head dropped back again, voice low, almost reverent. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You kissed along the lines of his chest now, every inch you touched making him twitch beneath you. He gritted his teeth when you bit down lightly near his collarbone.

“You gonna let me have my way?” you asked, feigning innocence.

Arthur looked down at you, eyes dark and amused and strained all at once. “For now.”

You sat back upright, trailing your hands down his stomach, slow and warm. “That sounds like a threat.”

“Ain’t no threat,” he said. “Just a promise.”

You leaned down one more time, your hair falling like a curtain between you.

“Then you better make sure I remember it.”

He growled low—half frustration, half praise—and let you take your time doing just that.

When you took him in your hand and then sank onto him, the noise he made wasn’t even a word. Just a desperate, throaty groan that made heat bloom low in your belly.

He gripped your hips hard, not guiding you—just holding on. His head fell back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as you moved, fast and rough, all tension and no rhythm, like you were both trying to chase something you couldn’t quite name.

“Goddamn, girl…” he rasped, fingers flexing on your waist. “You tryna kill me?”

You grinned through your gasp. “You could’ve had worse ways to go.”

The tempo shifted, rougher, deeper. He met your thrusts now, matching you beat for beat, until the air between you turned to fire. Nothing but sweat and breath and soft curses under your breath as your pace turned frantic.

His hands gripped your thighs now, arms tight, body straining.

“I ain’t gonna last,” he warned, voice tight, voice wrecked.

You were barely listening.

“D-don’t you dare come—”

You ground down hard on his pelvis, his hands crushing into the meat of your rear with bruising force.

“I—fuck, woman… I’m gonna—”

“Not yet, not yet, Jesus—please—” you whined, rolling your hips on him the fastest and hardest you’d ever done, chasing that precipice you seemed so close to. Your clit pressed hard against his pubic bone, and you sloppily rode his throbbing cock. “I need to come, I need—”

Arthur’s head fell back against the pillow as he gritted his teeth, hands leaving your hips to dig into the mattress.

“Let me come, let me—Arthur—”

He was beyond words as you gyrated above him, grunting and panting as he screwed his eyes shut, trying desperately not to give into the pleasure. You bore down on him, throwing your hips hard against his, chasing that feeling that seemed just out of reach.

You were so close. You could almost taste it. The friction of the curls at the base of his cock against the sensitive skin of that nub of your pleasure—that, that’s what did you in.

“Jesus fuck—” he grunted, the sheen of sweat on his brow glistening as you ground down on him, your hips jerking with a sense of finality.

You stuttered unintelligible words in a high-pitched gasp as your whole body tensed over him, muscles clutching, cunt squeezing. His eyes shot open and he lost the fight.

“Shit—!” He gritted, and nigh uncontrollably, his hips thrust upward and he came, all of his energy seeming to be pulled out of his body through his cock, spattering pulse after pulse of spend into your warm depths.

Your hands pulsed on his abdomen as you whined, panting as you came down from your own high.

“Shit.” He grunted as he watched you climb off him, a trail of milky fluid slowly making its way down your thigh.

“It’ll—it’ll be okay… I’m about to bleed. I’m sure it won’t take.” You panted, grabbing a handkerchief from the bedside table and wiping the moisture from your skin. You tossed the wet handkerchief at Arthur’s face, and he sputtered in disgust, throwing it back at you.

By the time he grabbed you and dragged you back into bed, the drying spend on your thighs was forgotten.

[vaquerospurs]

UGHHH im in love

Firewater - Chapter 8

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

The heat of the summer marches on.

taglist: @v3lv3tf0x, @stottlemorgan, @mrsarthurmorgan7, @appalachiancowboy99, @pinescent-and-gingerbread, @blueskies664, @arthurstinmug, @ultraporcelainpig, @emerald-ranch @thedilfdiaries, @heron-feathers,@nalitali, @whiskeyskin

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous | ➵ Next

ARIZONA, JUNE-AUGUST 1897

It starts with a bruise on your hip and Arthur’s crooked grin.

“I didn’t mean to knock you into that boulder,” he says, not even trying to sound sorry.

You roll your eyes, tugging your skirt back down as you step into your boots. “You didn’t stop me, either.”

He shrugs, already tucking his shirt back in. “Didn’t hear you complainin’ when your legs were wrapped around my back.”

You swat him with your hat. He catches your wrist, grinning like sin, and kisses your palm before letting go.

The air still smells like sweat and mesquite.

-

The next time, you’re supposed to be gathering intel from a ranch hand who only talks when he’s drunk. You get him to spill with a bit of help from a bottle and some sweet words.

Then you and Arthur slip into a hayloft to wait out the patrols.

“You got straw in your hair,” he murmurs, mouth brushing your collarbone.

“You’re about to have it in your pants,” you shoot back, breath catching as his hands slide beneath your skirt.

Somewhere below, the ranch hand sings off-key about whiskey and women.

You bite your fist to keep quiet, and Arthur groans against your throat, like he’s trying not to lose his mind entirely.

-

You don’t make it back to camp that night.

Instead, you set up bedrolls under the stars. One is barely unrolled before Arthur has you straddling him, the moonlight turning his eyes silver.

“You always this handsy under the stars?” you ask, panting as you tug his suspenders loose.

“I like the view,” he grunts, eyes locked on yours. “Especially when you’re on top of it.”

You laugh—then gasp when he shifts his hips just right.

Neither of you sleeps much.

-

At some point, Charles gives you a long, slow look as you come back to camp at dawn with grass in your hair and dust on your knees. He doesn’t say anything.

You don’t, either.

But Arthur winks at him.

The bastard.

-

Then there’s the time you get caught in a flash storm, the rain hammering down as you take cover in the shadow of a sandstone bluff. You’re both soaked, chilled, and muddy—but you can’t stop laughing.

“Hell of a storm,” you say, peeling your shirt away from your skin.

Arthur grins, eyes trailing down your chest. “Don’t suppose I can help you warm up.”

You raise a brow. “You offering body heat or bad decisions?”

He leans in, water dripping from his hat brim. “Both.”

Your laugh turns into a gasp as he lifts you up against the rock wall, mud be damned.

The storm rages around you.

-

There’s a rhythm to it now.

Scout a homestead. Get hot and bothered. Tumble behind a rock or into a cave or beneath the shade of a lone desert tree.

Sometimes it’s frantic, all teeth and grabbing hands and trying not to get caught.

Other times it’s slow and filthy, a drawn-out tease while you’re supposed to be watching the road.

You call him a menace.

He calls you a hellion.

Neither of you stops.

-

You’re tending your rifle on a quiet afternoon when he comes up behind you, trailing a lazy hand down your back.

“You’re wearin’ my shirt,” he murmurs.

“I stole it,” you reply.

“It looks better on you.”

You glance over your shoulder. “You comin’ on to me, Morgan?”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “I’m thinkin’ about where I’d like to come on ya’.”

You punch his shoulder, hard enough to sting. He winces—then kisses your neck like it’s his damn job.

Ten minutes later, you’re both panting against a sun-heated boulder, half-dressed and breathless, the rifle forgotten in the dirt.

-

There’s a fight one day—over something dumb. Maybe he didn’t wake you for a scouting trip, or you snapped at him after a sleepless night. You storm off to the ridge, fuming.

He follows.

You argue in low, heated voices, close enough to kiss, close enough to swing. The desert wind howls around you.

Then, silence.

Then: his hand fisting in your shirt, yours grabbing his belt.

You don’t talk the rest of the afternoon.

You let your bodies say everything for you.

-

Dutch starts noticing.

“You two seem thick as thieves lately,” he says one night.

You smile over your drink. “Ain’t we all?”

Arthur, beside you, raises a brow. “I just like her company.”

Dutch chuckles. “That’s a word for it.”

-

A few days later, you’re on lookout duty together. The heat is miserable. 

Arthur is squinting through binoculars when you crawl into his lap, straddling him lazily.

“You’re supposed to be watchin’ for trouble,” he mutters, but his hands are already on your thighs.

“I am,” you murmur. “Just a different kind.”

He laughs—then groans when you grind against him slowly.

“You’re gonna get us shot one of these days.”

“Worth it,” you whisper, kissing him hard enough to steal the rest of his breath.

-

The worst of it is the time you can’t wait.

You’re supposed to be delivering a message to a contact closer to Tucson. You make it halfway before you drag him off the trail and into a thicket of dry brush, your mouth already on his.

“You’re outta your damn mind,” he mutters as you yank at his belt.

“You drivin’ me there,” you shoot back.

It’s fast. Dirty. God-awful uncomfortable.

And you both grin like idiots the whole way back to camp.

-

And then—after weeks of this—you’re sitting beside him on a ridge at dusk, legs dangling over the drop. Your body aches in the best ways. Your hair’s a mess. His shirt is rumpled from you wearing it again.

The desert stretches out golden before you, calm for once.

Arthur hands you a flask, still catching his breath from what just happened behind the rocks, acts that were probably illegal in ten states.

You take a sip, and then smile sideways at him.

“I want you to take me to dinner.”

He blinks. “What?”

You stretch, smug and satisfied. “Dinner. You know—tables, food, silverware we ain’t gonna sell off at a fence. A town where we don’t gotta lie about our names. Maybe even a bath before.”

He stares at you for a second, then huffs a laugh, brushing dust from your bare leg.

“I just railed you up against a sandstone rock,” he says, “and now you want me to take you courtin’?”

You grin. “Exactly.”

Arthur shakes his head, but there’s no hiding the way his mouth curves, soft and amused. “You’re outta your mind.”

[vaquerospurs]

yuuum.

you’re already halfway out the truck, facing the empty and abandoned gas station before joel even cuts the engine, heels clicking on the cracked concrete, that playful sway in your hips. your skirt flutters indecent with every step, barely skimming the bottom curve of your ass. you don’t fix it, you kinda like knowing he’s staring.

“joel, baby, i want snacks,” you call over your shoulder.

his boots hit the ground behind you, in a familiar rhythm; you don’t even have to look—his eyes are crawling up your legs, his jaw clicking, fingers flexing like he’s trying really hard not to grab you right here in the lot. “ain’t no snacks left, darlin’. this place’s picked clean.”

you know the shelves’ll be bare, the air stale and hot, every cooler warm and humming useless, their contents long expired or long gone. doesn’t stop you from pushing open the door, bell above it long dead, just a dusty jingle of chain. inside smelled like heat and baked plastic, motor oil and cigarettes. your flipflops slap across the tile, the hem of your tee lifting.

you hum to yourself. “i’m gonna find a magazine. something about fashion or porn.” joel chuckles behind you, that low gravelled sound that melts straight down your spine.

“you got a whole stack in the backseat already, sugar puss. ain’t enough to keep that pretty head of yours busy?”

you bend lowly under the faded rack of dusty paperbacks and old celebrity mags, ass tipped high in the air. joel's presence was a fiery heat at your back and when you weren't paying attention, his hand lands square on your ass, the sound loud in the dead space of the station, echoing off empty aisles. your breath catches, eyes wide as you whip your head around with a scandalized gasp. “joel!”

he’s grins, ardor feeling his eyes. “you bend like that again, and we ain’t makin’ it back to the truck, sweetheart.”

you straighten up, legs now a little weaker than they were two minutes ago. you pull a magazine from the rack—something with a half-naked man on the cover, water-streaked abs and dead eyes—and hold it up like a prize. “i found one, i love it.”

joel’s already wandering down a different aisle, fingers brushing dusty cans and half-torn wrappers. nothing edible, nothing useful, all ruin.

you trail after him, still sipping from the cherry soda you brought with you; the coolness of it pops sharp on your tongue, sugary and cloying, and you suck it slow, letting the bottle linger between your lips just to see the tick in joel’s jaw when he turns and catches the show.

“you’re a menace,” he mutters eyes glued to your mouth.“i know,” you sing, batting your lashes. “but you like it, baby. don't forget. that part”

his hand finds your waist before you even notice, thumb grazing your skin as he presses you into the empty shelf. “you tryin’ to rile me up out here in the middle of nowhere?”

you glance up at him through your lashes, lips glossy, teeth catching on your bottom one. “maybe i’m bored. maybe i need a distraction.” joel’s hand dips lower, gripping you. “let’s find somewhere quiet,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around his wrist, dragging his palm down the front of your skirt. "so i can read to you."

he groans loudly as you press your lips to his neck, breath ghosting over his skin.

“you like my stories, don’t you, baby?” joel’s hand fists in your hair. “i like your mouth.”

the station has a bathroom in back, door hanging crooked on broken hinges, floor cracked, mirror spiderwebbed and rust-flecked, the usual in an abandoned gas station.

you toss your magazine onto the cracked sink, already reaching for the hem of your shirt, peeling it up slow, bra catching and lifting your tits high and round, begging to be touched. you then hop up on the counter, spread your leg allowing your short skirt to bunch around your waist, the glint of your panties .

“you gonna read this one with me?” you ask, curling a finger at him. “or do you want me to read it to you while you’re busy?”

he doesn’t even answer—just starts undoing his belt. well, that’s answer enough for how you’ll be spending the rest of the trip, isn’t it?

special tags: @inbred-eater , @carmysdoll , @lowrisemiller, @bluemerakis

[vaquerospurs]

another incredible chapter. i’m SO hooked on this

Firewater - Chapter 7

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

The ranch robbery goes well, so of course you have to celebrate.

taglist: @v3lv3tf0x, @stottlemorgan, @mrsarthurmorgan7, @appalachiancowboy99, @pinescent-and-gingerbread, @blueskies664, @arthurstinmug, @ultraporcelainpig, @emerald-ranch @thedilfdiaries, @heron-feathers,@nalitali, @whiskeyskin

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous | ➵ Next

ARIZONA, JUNE 1897

The night air is thick with smoke and song.

After days of dry planning and a dicey execution, the ranch job went smoother than anyone expected. A big haul—cash, supplies, even a few decent rifles tucked under floorboards. Dutch is all smiles, Hosea’s already half-drunk, and even Grimshaw is laughing into a tin cup of something strong.

You’re sitting on a log near the fire, one leg crossed over the other, watching the way Arthur leans against a barrel a few feet away, half-listening to Javier’s story. He’s drinking slow, same way he’s always cautious, but there’s a faint smirk pulling at his lips that tells you he’s feeling good. Maybe better than he’d admit.

He hasn’t looked your way since the fire was lit. Not directly, anyway.

But you know he’s aware of you.

You wait until a particularly loud burst of laughter goes up around the fire—something about Bill and a pigpen—and then you lean forward just enough that your fingers brush the top buttons of your shirt.

One pops open. Then another.

The fire’s warm, but your blood is warmer. Just get up slow, as if you’re stretching. As if the night breeze is too tempting to ignore.

You walk past him, calm and unhurried, trailing into the trees beyond the edge of camp where the firelight gives way to shadow.

You don’t have to look back.

You know he’s following by the way the chatter behind you falters for half a second, then picks up again like nothing happened.

By the time you hear his boots behind you, you’re already leaning against a cottonwood tree, arms folded, eyes gleaming in the dark.

“You always undo your shirt to get what you want?” he asks, voice low, already amused.

You tilt your head. “Only when what I want is stubborn and slow on the uptake.”

He steps closer. “That right?”

“Mm-hm.” You let your gaze drift down his chest, to the way his vest hangs open, to the familiar shape of the revolver at his hip. “Besides, it’s hot out.”

“Sure,” he mutters, but his eyes are already lingering on the skin you’ve exposed—your collarbone, the curve of your chest. “You plannin’ on doin’ anything else out here, or is this just a look at me stunt?”

You push off the tree, taking a step toward him. “Why? That bother you?”

Arthur snorts, then reaches up and lazily flicks another button open with his knuckle. “Only bothers me when I don’t get to do the lookin’ up close.”

You smile, close now, the tension between you all heat and memory and promise.

“I thought maybe I’d give you something worth lookin’ at,” you say softly.

“Darlin’,” he murmurs, voice thick and fond now, “you already did.”

Arthur doesn’t kiss you right away.

He just stands there in front of you, close enough that your bodies share breath. His eyes flick over your face, sharp and steady, like he’s trying to memorize the way you’re looking at him right now—equal parts challenge and invitation.

“You always this bossy when you’re feelin’ good?” he mutters, voice gravel-soft.

“Only when I know you’ll follow,” you reply, tilting your chin just enough to provoke.

That’s all it takes.

He steps into you fast, one hand catching the back of your neck, and then his mouth is on yours—hot, urgent, rough in that way that says he’s been waiting since the ranch job, maybe even since the drunken debauchery. You meet him with the same hunger, your fingers gripping his vest, your body arching into his like it’s instinct.

It’s not sweet.

It’s hungry.

His kiss makes your head spin. When he pulls back, only slightly, his mouth brushes against your jaw, then lower, against your throat. “Been thinkin’ about this since you walked past me this mornin’,” he mutters against your skin. “Like you wanted trouble.”

You smirk through your ragged breathing. “I am trouble.”

He growls softly, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time. He moves with that quiet confidence you’ve come to know in him—like he knows what you need and isn’t shy about giving it.

His hands find your hips. Then your thighs.

And then suddenly, he’s lowering you down to the ground, easing you back into the dry grass and dirt like it’s the softest bedroll on earth.

Your breath catches.

“Arthur—”

But he’s already shifting down, hands dragging up your legs, strong and sure. When he reaches the hem of your skirt, he pauses—glancing up at you, his voice low and wicked.

“Just lay back, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Let me show you how good I am with my mouth.”

You don’t argue.

Your head falls back against the earth, the stars above spinning slightly as you feel the soft whisper of air against your thighs. Your skirts are pushed up slowly, reverently, and then his head dips beneath the fabric.

And everything else fades.

No teasing now. No more banter.

Just his hands, steady and warm, holding your legs apart. And his mouth, purposeful and slow, like he’s savoring the way you lose yourself to his ministrations

The night around you is quiet except for the hum of crickets and your broken, whispered breaths. Somewhere in the distance, the firelight of camp flickers, and the faint sound of laughter and music drifts through the trees.

But none of it matters.

Right now, it’s just you. Him. And the way he licks you like you’re the only thing in the world he needs to taste again and again.

Arthur’s head is buried beneath your skirts, his breath warm against your skin, and every flick of his tongue pulls a new sound from your lips. He’s patient and thorough, like he’s got nowhere else to be—like he wants to unravel you one slow lick at a time.

Your hips shift instinctively, caught between wanting to grind against his mouth and keep still to hold onto the pressure building inside you. But he’s already got a hand pressed firm against your thigh, holding you down, guiding you exactly where he wants you.

And just when you think you’ve adjusted—just when you’re getting used to the rhythm of his mouth—he reaches up, rough fingers slipping beneath your loosened shirt, brushing over the curve of your breast.

You gasp, eyes fluttering shut.

His calloused palm cups you, thumb teasing over your nipple through the thin fabric of your chemise. The combination is maddening—his mouth between your thighs, his hand kneading your breast, and the gravelly sound he makes when he feels you arch into his touch.

“Arthur—” you breathe, voice catching.

He hums in response, and the vibration alone nearly makes you scream.

Your hand fumbles through your skirts, fingers tangling in his hair, and you swear he laughs against you when you tug. Not to stop him—just to anchor yourself.

Every part of you feels stretched thin, the fire winding tight in your belly, sharper with every pass of his tongue, every tug of his fingers on your skin. Your breath comes in broken bursts now, hips trembling under his hands.

“You’re close,” he murmurs, voice muffled. “I can feel it.”

You nod, barely able to speak.

“Let go for me,” he growls, mouth dragging against your inner thigh. 

And with one more stroke—with one more slip of heat and pressure from his mouth—you do.

You cry out, back arching, thighs shaking as you come against his mouth, his hands steady on your body, grounding you through it. He doesn’t pull away until you’re done—until you’re gasping and boneless, legs trembling, shirt rucked halfway up your ribs and your chest still heaving.

When he finally lifts his head, his mouth glistens, his eyes dark and fixed on yours.

“Hell,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I could die happy now.”

You laugh breathlessly, still sprawled in the grass, heart racing.

“You’re not gettin’ off that easy, Morgan,” you murmur when you finally regain the ability to speak.

Arthur exhales through his nose, slow and shaky, as he leans back on his elbows beside you, the grass bending beneath his weight.

You’re still catching your breath, your skirts tangled around your waist, your shirt half-unbuttoned from earlier. His eyes flick over you, dark and hungry, jaw tight like he’s holding something back.

Then you notice it—he’s shifting slightly, adjusting himself in his trousers.

A flush creeps into your smile.

“Somethin’ wrong?” you ask, voice soft and teasing as you lean closer, letting your fingertips graze the front of his pants.

He glances at you, half a smirk curling at his lips. “You know damn well what’s wrong.”

You lean in, your face close to his, and your hand trails lower, pressing gently over the obvious strain beneath his trousers.

“Well,” you murmur, “I feel like it’s only fair I return the favor.”

Arthur watches you for a beat—just watches, eyes burning with heat and something quieter beneath it. Then he lets out a breath, almost a groan, and shifts to give you room.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he mutters as you undo the top button of his trousers with slow, deliberate fingers.

“Mm,” you hum, sliding your hand inside, “you keep sayin’ that, but I think you like it.”

He swears softly when your hand wraps around him, hips twitching beneath your touch.

“I know I do,” he mutters through gritted teeth.

The way his breath stutters in his throat only spurs you on, your strokes slow, teasing, your thumb dragging just enough to make his eyes squeeze shut.

Arthur groans low in his chest, tipping his head back. “You keep that up, and I’m not gonna last long.”

You grin against his shoulder, dragging your mouth along the stubble there. “That’s alright. I already got mine.”

His laugh is ragged—genuine, hoarse, and filled with heat.

Arthur’s breath hitches as your hand works his cock with slow, purposeful strokes, his head tipped back, eyes shut.. The low sounds he makes—low groans, a few muttered curses—go straight through you. You feel him straining beneath your palm, hot and heavy, his control unraveling by the second.

Then you shift.

Without a word, you slide down between his legs, your eyes locked on him as you press a kiss just below his navel, and then lower still.

Arthur looks down just as your mouth closes around his cock, and the sound he makes is wrecked.

“Shit,” he breathes, one hand fisting in the grass behind him, the other hovering uncertainly before landing on your shoulder, fingers digging in.

You move slow at first, savoring the way he shudders, the curse he swallows. His hips twitch despite himself, jaw clenched real tight.

“You—goddamn,” he grits out, the edge of a groan curling behind the words. “You tryin’ to kill me?”

You hum in response, tongue teasing just enough to make him buck gently into your mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, voice hoarse and wild now. “You keep goin’—”

You don’t stop. The tension in him is visible now—his thighs taut, shoulders locked, breath coming fast and ragged as your mouth works him with slow, determined care.

Then he lets out a deep, broken moan, his hand tightening on your shoulder.

“Now,” he chokes. “I’m gonna—”

And he does.

You feel it in the way he stutters against your tongue, in the way his whole body tenses and then collapses into the grass. His voice breaks on a final, wrecked curse as he spills into your mouth, chest heaving, fingers slackening against your skin.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, the wind in the grass, the faint murmur of laughter far off at the campfire.

Arthur finally lifts his head to look at you, still panting, a dazed smile ghosting across his lips.

“Remind me to piss you off more often,” he rasps.

You grin, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand as you crawl back up beside him.

[vaquerospurs]

yup yup yup

it's so hot that all i wanna do is lay around naked and fantasise about having sweaty, soft, and passionate sex with joel miller in the summer evenings with the windows wide open and the birds singing for us as we fuck.

[vaquerospurs]

twitter historically sucks but man this is a banger of a tweet

[vaquerospurs]

best way to warm up

Joel Miller x fem!reader

summary: after spending the day out in the cold, Joel wants nothing more than to get back home to his girl. once he has you in his arms, you both agree to retire back to bed, so you can replace the shivers of cold with shivers of pleasure

a/n: this was my first time writing a proper fic for him and I ended up really enjoying it! theres just something about old man!Jackson!Joel that’s so... yeah. this is filth with a bit of plot <3 - (ca. 6k words)

warnings: big age gap (reader in her 20s, Joel close to 60), oral and fingering (r!receiving), brief hand and blowjob, unprotected p in v, praise, multiple orgasms, coming inside, cum eating, pet names, one singular use of "daddy", bf!Joel who goes hard in a loving way

Joel would never get used to the snow.

it didn’t matter how long he’d already lived in Jackson, it went the same way every year, him taking the cold as a personal attack on his summer-loving soul, cursing under his breath whenever his teeth chattered and the tip of his nose and ears turned red from the biting winds.

that particular day it was no different. a blizzard had swept through town a few days before and had left some damage on a few houses, which of course made people turn to your lover when they were looking for someone to help them fix it all up.

Joel was the resident handy man, along with a few other guys, and he wasn´t too happy about it, especially not once he got older and had a pretty girl waiting at home who he´d rather give all his energy to, since waking up sore from tending to you was pleasant, whereas waking up sore from work... not so much.

you had to push him out of the door that morning while he regretted being that skilled at home renovations, to which you just said “come on, show them how strong you still are compared to all the men here who are half your age” which gave him just the right amount of pride and spite to go out there and be a dutiful neighbor while flexing his skills in front of guys who´d tried their luck with you before, smug whenever they struggled to lift as much as he did, thinking about the countless times he´d used his strength for your pleasure, shooting daggers at them whenever they dared to ask him about you.

while he was out being helpful, you spent your day gathering wood for your fireplace and stoked the flames until they were intense enough to make the house feel cozy again. you cooked a hearty soup and left it to simmer on the stove, so you could share a nice dinner later on, taking your time with it, picking all the right herbs. just as you got done cleaning the kitchen, you heard the front door slam shut, followed by Joel kicking off his boots anf letting out a few foul words that made you smile to yourself.

his grumpiness always amused you, his blatant inability to keep his grievances to himself, to put on a convincing poker face - which had gotten him in trouble more than once - because it held no threat of true aggression, Joel was not an angry man, at least not with you, never with you, not over his dead body - one touch, one word from you was always enough turn him into a man about as tender as they come.

you´d managed to soften his tired spirit like a rough stone that got smoothed down over time, just as tough as before, but less prickly, less irritable, more at peace, and he worshipped you for it, the patience that you´d shown him when he had felt so undeserving of it, after everything he´d done, all the pain he’d caused. you both gave each other the kind of solace you never dared to hope for, especially during the darkest nights of the year, savoring the evenings spent cocooned in a glow of love on the couch, clinging to each other while the outside world was covered in ice. 

he came into the kitchen looking all gruff and flushed and achingly handsome, snow melting in his graying hair and beard, dressed in those jeans that fit him just right and a white shirt with a flannel on top, an appreciative long glance from you over his figure that matched his as he spotted you and rushed over. “hey baby” you cooed, smiling at him, “hey there.” he said, still a bit irritated by the whole ordeal outside, but glad to be home at last. “you´re freezing hm?” you asked and beckoned him closer, so he pulled you in and wrapped his arms around you while uttering “like a damn icicle, darling” shivering a bit as he buried his face in your neck and breathed in your familiar scent, his heartbeat slowing immediately, a tight grip on you as he soaked up your heat.

you mirrored his gesture and held him close, rested your head against his shoulder, caressed him up and down his back which made him hum in approval. “poor thing, gotta get you warmed up. what do you need? some coffee, a bath? both maybe?”.

“you” he murmured against your skin, eliciting goosebumps. “right now, all I need is you”, the words barely audible as he started trailing feathery light kisses up your neck, your pulse point, your jaw, your cheek, making you sigh and shut your eyes, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt to hold onto something, a smile as he took the sign to continue and gave the sensitive spot below your ear little licks and kisses, lavishing you with affection.

you let out a faint moan as he did this, your arousal stirred not just by his lips but the way he smelled, so fresh and crisp from the ice-cold air, musky and sweet from his own natural scent, leathery and woody from his jacket and the fire smoke he´d been around, a mix that was so deeply addictive to you.

without warning, he gripped your sides and lifted you onto the countertop, so you instantly wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, as close as possible, hands on his neck, increasingly turned on, his own hands on your shoulders as he leaned in to whisper “thought of you the entire time I was out there, sweetheart…what I´d have done if I´d stayed in bed with you all mornin” his voice all low and husky as he said it, his breath tickling your ear, his thumbs kneading away the tension in your muscles.

“god..” was all you could respond, your voice all strained from the lust that was slowly spreading through you, pooling at your core, so he didn´t waste any time and leaned in, cupped your face and captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, teasingly licking over your bottom lip before you opened your mouth and made him turn the kiss into something more perverse and charged, making out in a way that would´ve been highly inappropriate in public, his hips moving forward in a way that made you feel it: that he was already straining against his jeans. a strangled moan escaped you as his clothed groin pressed against yours, already wet and waiting for him.

in the middle of kissing you, he pushed his hands under your shirt and heard you gasp into his mouth as he cupped your tits, his large, cold palms right over the swell of your breasts, squeezing, feeling you up, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples to soothe them, circling motions that made you moan louder than you intended and lean back in a way that nearly made you knock a jar to the floor, which didn´t deter him, at all, still pressing against your sensitive area, groping you, as he used your position to his advantage and sucked on your exposed throat, heard those little whimpers that drove him wild every damn time.

eventually, you pulled back, out of breath, and sighed “want me to help you get hot all over, hm?”, staring into his eyes with a kind of desire that rivaled even the brightest fire while un-buttoning the top of his flannel, so he skipped the talking and only gave a gravely sound in response as he lifted you up, your legs already where he needed them, carrying you up the stairs, your arms wrapped around his neck, your lips ghosting over his cheek as he reveled in the feeling of being strong enough to carry you over the threshold bridal style, which gave him the brief fantasy of making you his wife, slipping a lacy gown off your frame, pulling garter belt down your leg with his teeth.

the moment he laid you down on the bed, he hurried with getting his shirt and undershirt off, his jeans too, unbuckling his belt in a way that made you want him even more. he needed, he craved the body-to body feel, and the vision of him right then was like a wolf who´d roamed through miles and miles of snow and finally found something to sink his teeth into: impatient, greedy, salivating at the thought.

you pulled your shirt off too as he was already crawling over to you and told you “good girl, now lift your hips for me”, so you obeyed and tossed your top to the floor and helped him shimmy down your jeans, which left you in nothing but thin cotton panties, which drove him wild when he saw the dampness at the center, a brief brush of his fingers over it that made you twitch before his eyes fell to your chest, which made him pounce on you.

within seconds he was palming your left tit as he put his mouth to the other, switching between sucking and licking motions that made you squirm and whimper under him, the tip of his tongue flicking over your nipple before he put it between his lips and suckled on you like he was trying to get milk, so eager, so hungry, so lost in your softness, his knee purposely pressed up between your thighs, creating friction at your core that left you soaked and desperate for more. with a wet popping sound he finally let go but didn´t give himself or you time to catch your breaths, instead pinning your arms to the side, gently but firmly, while placing his mouth between your tits, then your sternum, moving down all the way to your lower stomach while leaving a trail of wet kisses. once he reached the waistband of your panties he paused and left few love bites until he looked up to see you all undone from his impact already, confessing to you “god I can´t take it… you´re too beautiful baby… too soft and delicious… need you all over my mouth, right now”.

before you could say anything, he ripped down your panties and praised “hmm, yeah, nice and open for me” as you parted your legs wider for him so he could settle between them, his kissing from before continuing all the way up your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the tender skin here and there. Joel needed you to a point where he almost humped the mattress, his cock throbbing just from a bit of foreplay, the way it always did, matching the utter sensitivity on your part that made you sound like he was already fucking you, when he hadn´t even reached the apex of your thighs yet. 

before he could taste you, he reached up and played with your pussy a bit, rubbing your clit with his middle and ring finger in circles as he heard you whine so beautifully for him, your eyes cast down, propped up on your arms, so you could get a good look at the way he savored the feel and sight of your slick folds, your swollen clit, pussy-whipped already, rubbing you so softly that it almost felt more shameless and filthy than if he´d jerked you off with force.

when he felt you losing your composure even more and heard a sweet little “baby…” tumbling from your lips, urging him to get to it, he gave a light slap of his hand against your needy pussy that made you wince not from pain but the bolt of pleasure, a devilish smile shot in your direction before he finally wrapped his big arms around your thighs and pulled you down against his mouth, buried himself in you, groaned like an animal as your cunt enveloped his nose and mouth, drowned out all previous worries, left him feeling like he was the luckiest man on planet earth, never ever getting used to your velvety, salty juices that could sustain him through the harshest winter, bring him back to life each time he got a taste of you.

you fell back against the pillows and mewled as he started eating you out, lapped at your cunt in broad, self-indulgent strokes, diving between your folds like a man starved, your slick heat healing his previously frozen up skin as he moved his face up and down to gather up every last drop, drenched in your fluids within no time, the way he needed and wanted it, all the time, sometimes spending entire evenings between your legs like that.

Joel made out with your pussy while you moaned and rocked your hips up to chase his mouth, whining to him about how good it felt, so he pushed you further and slipped a finger into you, no resistance, your cunt greedily taking it in, pleasure noises flowing from between his glistening lips as he pulled back to watch it, “yes, yes.. more” you cried, so he quickly pushed in a second finer and curled them up just right to hit your sweet spot over and over, adding his tongue again once you sounded like you might finish soon, sucking on your clit hard enough to make you see stars as his big fingers pumped in and out of you, got you read for something bigger, your walls throbbing around his knuckles, your back arching up, as the first orgasm hit you like lightning and made you shake and cry out, fully drenching his fingers as you rode it out while he kept his lips firmly suctioned to your clit, his free arm holding you in place as he soaked up the feeling of having you come all over his tongue and hand. 

as you laid there all flushed and riled up, he put his fingers between his lips and licked your cum off while uttering “divine.. like honey…”, keeping eye-contact with you in a way that made you breathe even heavier than before. the sight of you splayed out for him like that, so gorgeous and dripping and clearly in need of more of his service, it made him adore you so fiercely and need you so badly that he frantically pulled down his boxers and tossed them to where your underwear was already crumpled on the floor, his hardness springing free in a way that made him take a sharp breath in and stroke himself as he came over to you and saw your eyes turn down to where he was touching himself, clearly turned on by how rock hard he was, pre-cum leaking out of his tip, his big strong thighs and hairy chest and broad shoulders only driving you even wilder in combination with that view, his stature looming over you in the most dizzying way. “been like this all afternoon…” he groaned  “just from thinkin of you”. 

before he could protest, you sat up, spat into your palm, and reached forward to replace his hand with yours, his head falling back as he felt your palm close around his length, rubbing up and down, slicking him up as an almost pained “ohhh hmppff fuck” escaped him while he gripped your arm for support, bucked up into your grip without thinking, groaned like an animal as you just smiled all sweet and and kept stroking him, savoring the feel of him in your hand like that, aroused and throbbing for you, whispering to him “need this cock in me, baby”.

“yeah? need it right now?” he moaned and felt you going a bit faster to really tease him, so he slipped his thumb into your mouth in retaliation, felt you suck on it, his eyes dark and half-lidded then as you jerked him off and licked all over his finger, until you let go of both at once and leaned back, nodding and saying “hmm yeah, need you deep inside me” emphasis on the “deep”, your eyes never leaving his as you spread your thighs wide enough for him to see your cunt spread open and pulsating for him, inviting him in, so he lunged forward and whispered “oh youre really asking for it now, darlin…” and pushed you back onto the pillows.

you let out a squeal as Joel roughly put you into the position he needed you in, hovering over you, and went on to slide his tip over your wetness, teasing, slapping his cock onto your cunt a few times to watch you turn weak and helpless again, until he guided himself to your entrance and let go of his cock, put his hands by the sides of your face, stared down into your eyes and then kissed your neck right as he pushed himself into you, slowly for the first inches, and then all the way, one swift push, balls deep, no holding back anymore, your pussy aching in relief the moment he bottomed out and had you nice and full again. 

your heat and wetness overwhelmed him as he felt it all, a broken-up “Christ..” as he let you adjust to his size and held your gaze, both of you staring into each other´s soul´s with parted lips, hitched breaths, that delicious moment whenever he first entered you, his palm reaching up to caress you, soothe you, as you matched his low, rumbling sounds with a higher-pitched moan, your pussy stretching around his girth in just the right way, his hardness buried deep inside of you, the ache at your core suddenly pleasurable instead of maddening, a burning need to have him deepen that ache until you couldn´t take anymore, which he sensed, so he moved his hands to grip yours and pin them against the mattress as he slowly started moving in you as the scruff of his beard tickled your neck just right, his moans and kisses covering the skin right above your shoulder as you wrapped your legs around his waist and trapped him in the best way.

you ran your nails down his spine and felt him give you the most dizzying slow, yet hard, deep strokes, so you could feel every single thrust in its entirety, a whimper with each one, throbbing around him as you whined “yes…yes”, so he lifted his head a bit and breathed against your cheek “hmm yeah? like that, baby?”, a weak “hmm” and nod from you in response as you felt him go in and out of you, your pussy relaxed and soaking wet by then, both of you whispering sweet nothings to each other as he picked up the pace, unable to keep his desire contained any longer, his hands leaving yours then so he could brace himself better as he fucked you the way he wanted, intense, hard, and yet so loving, radiating such adoration with each push of his hips, his groans turning louder and more pornographic by the second, a mix of “ohh” and “ughh” sounds rising out of his depths as he got lost in you, the way you looked right then, all flushed and and pretty in your lust-induced haze, head pushed back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut from that deep pleasure that was starting to possess every little inch of your body, his strokes steady and skilled, his lips suddenly on yours so he could drink up all of your moans and whimpers, kissing you softly as he fucked you intensely, a contrast that drove you wild as you gripped his big arms and held on. 

you loved that he was big but not to a point where it hurt, his cock just girthy enough for you to have to adjust to it a bit at first every time, a mild kind of pain that was more thrilling than punishing, a perfect size and feel for you, the flesh of his length still slightly soft even when he was hard, ideal to a point where you became obsessed with it, sometimes having him fuck you on the couch in the middle of the day, just to feel him for a few minutes, or riding him on a chair in the kitchen, or if things got really heated making him take you inside other people´s bathrooms, one time even fully out in public, at night, too eager for him to fuck you to wait til you were home. Joel loved it. every time. how eager you were for him, the delicious build-up to it, the way you always made him feel like the most virile, desirable man who ever lived just by batting your eyelashes at him and nudging his leg to say “come here, take me, please.”

right then it was no different as he was fucking you into the mattress with determination until he lifted himself up onto his knees and quickly pushed your leg up into an angle that allowed him to really rail the fuck out of you, your back arching up as went as deep as possible then, fast and hard without ever neglecting your comfort, your need, your level of arousal, keeping a close eye on your body, the little tells that gave away how good it felt for you as he kept going and going, praising you, watching you twist your head to the side and bite your lip, groaning “goddd this pussys gonna ruin me one day… feel too fuckin good around me, baby...” and right then he hit the exact right spot, so you whimpered pathetically and stared up at him while moaning  “fuck right there, yes” your insides twisted in pleasure, threatening to burst within the next few minutes.

“yeah? right here? this the spot, sugar?” he asked, not actually needing an answer, only saying it to turn you on even more as he kept the exact pace he was going at and hit you deep inside, over and over, your muscles coiled tight, lewd wet sounds echoing through the room, his body looking all godly and manly like that, taking you as if he wasn´t pushing sixty at all, an ease and power to his movements that made you lose your mind completely.

just as you were bracing yourself for your impending climax, Joel reached down and added his thumb to the mix and oh. you were done for. the way he circled your clit right then.. the way he rubbed over your sensitive bundle of nerves.. it made you choke up for a second. “ohhh fuck baby, oh” you cried out, begging for mercy as he kept fucking and touching you just the right way, admiring the sight of you all sexy and primal in that state of pre-release, drunk on the power to please you that way.

“there you go.. look at you.. gorgeous girl..” he cooed as you begged “don´t stop, just like that, fuck”, so he assured you “shhh, you´re doin so well, takin me so damn well, baby” sweating by then, his scent only messing with you even more, that animalistic, intimate smell of his that always ruined you, Joel rutting into you with the need to see you lose yourself, which you were about to, your pussy leaking all over his cock as you moaned “I´m coming, I´m-” your words silenced by the orgasm that started to hit you, your whole body tensed up, your voice drowned out, right at the peak then, so he leaned forward during his relentless fucking and groaned “I´ve got you, I´ve got you baby girl, just let go for me”, and with that you did, unclenching every muscle at once, suddenly flooded by pleasure, crying out and shaking as he held you in place by your hips, caressed your sides, and slowed down bit by bit, let you ride it out, while uttering “hmm, good girl, such a good girl…”.

as you laid there catching your breath and twitching, he slowly moved his cock out and stroked it in a way that kept him riled up enough to keep going without coming too fast. he wanted to hold out, desperately, he needed more of you, and the second you had enough strength again, you moved your trembling body over to him, kneeled on the bed, and leaned down to lick his tip for him, nudging his hand away and replacing it with your own as you drooled all over his length and licked up the side of the shaft back up to the top, circled his tip, tasted yourself on him, and finally took him into your mouth, not all the way, but enough to make him moan “oh.. youre killin me” while he caressed your hair and watching in awe as you greedily sucked him off. he couldnt help but grunt and buck up a bit, trying his best not to choke or gag you, but so damn sensitive to your pretty mouth wrapped around him like that, a pained “goddammit” leaving him as you sucked his dick until he couldn´t take any more. before he could cum in your mouth, he peeled you off and grabbed you to get you where he wanted you, panting, desperate, hard as a rock.

Joel gave your leg a loving squeeze and told you “come here baby, come lay on your side for me, nice and comfortable, right here” maneuvering you into the position he was aiming for as he laid down behind you and watched you lift your own leg up, knowing what he wanted to do to you. “that´s it, perfect” he whispered as his arm slipped under your side and wrapped around your front, over your tits, to hold you flush against his chest, so strong and warm and comforting as he did it, his face right by your neck, a soft kiss as he settled in his big spoon position and groaned from the desire to dive back into your heat already. 

you needed it too, badly, your pussy twitching around the emptiness, so you moved your free hand down to guide his cock back into yourself, both him and you watching your lower half as he slipped right back in, both of you so sensitive and raw by then that he shuddered as you swallowed him up again while you let out a faint “ohh… oh” and pressed yourself back up against him to feel his entire body pressed against yours, your eyes shut as he kept his arm wrapped around your front and kissed your shoulder, your neck, groaned and bit down lightly as he picked up a pace and started fucking you from the side, possessive and protective at the same time the way he thrust himself into you with increasing passion while holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, which to him, you were, always and forever.

the sensation of being filled over and over from that lazy angle did something to you, made you surrender and lay in his arms all docile and sweet, which got him good: the way you trusted him, moaned for him, let him take you like that, so he fucked you a bit faster and rougher while peppering gentle kisses over the slope of your shoulder, slapping sounds filling the room as he kept going, his cock nice and deep inside you, so good that you were overcome by love and twisted your head back a bit to chase his lips and kiss him, your tongue in his mouth as you struggled to kiss him properly but tried your best amidst the frenzied fucking, his heart beating faster not just from the way you felt on him but the adoration he saw mirrored in your eyes as you briefly looked at him, all dazed and fucked out, so perfect, so angelic for him, his girl, all his, another deep, sloppy kiss from him as you whimpered to him about how good his cock felt, his own affection for you ruining him then as he whispered “this pussy was made to be worshipped by me, this body, all of it” which got you good, clenching around him so hard that he groaned “oh god hmmm” and tightened his grip on you, slamming into you as you submitted to it and got fucked into a blissful oblivion while he was right behind you, steading you, warming you, the neighbors down the street probably well aware of what was going on by then, your cries too loud to be drowned out by wooden walls, which made you feel even more aroused: that smug feeling of spending the afternoon getting your brains fucked out instead of doing anything to prove how dutiful you were, sinfully self-induldent in the best way. 

the softness of the cuddle-fucking somehow got you wet to a degree that was so intense that each thrust made a squelching sound, filthy and nasty and just how he loved it, his finger back on your clit as he briefly slowed down and moaned “fuckkk gonna make me cum baby” less intense strokes then, a brief pause to draw the sex out longer, he refused to cum, needed a few more minutes, so you gave in and savored the sensual, romantic feel of having his cock slide in and out your mess without much force, which held its own intense pleasure, an ease to it that turned you on, made you push your ass back against him and whine “ohhh… oh yes please” so he kept going like that for a while as you made out in a way you couldn´t before, catching your breaths a bit until the went faster again and braced himself for his orgasm, but before he could finish like that, you had the urge to change positions once more to really get fucked hard for your next orgasm.

you mumbled “baby I need-” and trailed off as you freed yourself from his grip and pushed him onto his back to get up and straddle him, your cunt slipping over his thigh for a moment, a grinding motion as he held his length and nodded “yeah darlin, take just what you need, drench my lap, lemme see”, a few more desperate rocking motions of your hips against the muscle of his leg, leaving a glistening trail of your cum once you got up and aligned yourself with him and sat down on it, sighing in relief once you felt him all the way in again and started riding him. you were too weak to really bounce on it, to give him the whole fantasy, but frantic and needy enough to give him a perfect view of your tits bouncing as you slid up and down his cock and saw him lean back against the heaboard, watching in awe, his hands on your sides as he supported and guided you, eager to tease another high out of you before his own would leave him wrecked for good, marveling at you on top of him looking like a goddess.

after a moment, he ordered “come down here” and made you lay chest to chest, wrapped both of his strong arms around your back, and held onto you tightly as he said “just relax for me now baby, okay?”, so you braced yourself, aware of what he was gonna do, and muffled your cries against his shoulder as he slammed up into you from below, over and over and over, truly ruining you, giving you a final round of achingly deep, aggressive thrusts that left you helpless on him - you didn´t have to do a single thing but take it all and stop resisting the overwhelming feeling that was about to unravel you, body and soul. you held on for dear life as he moaned that he was getting close, so you begged “come in me, please baby, please”, so he groaned “yeah? want me to fill you up?”, which made you insist “yes daddy… please”.

the word slipped out. it wasn´t on purpose. and that was what killed him. the innocent, fully instinctual way you uttered it, the word "daddy" going right to his head and heart and groin all at once as he grunted “jesus baby.. gonna make you mine now, gonna fill you all the way up”, his movements stopping all at once as he kept himself all the way inside you after last thrust and released his cum, shaking and twitching as he felt himself leaking and heard you moan in relief as you came right at the same time from the heavenly warm sensation of having him claim you that way, a decent amount of his juices splurting out until he was empty and shuddered one last time before he went as slack as you were by then, his arms still around you, keeping you safe, always.

for a moment, you just laid there like that, inseparable, entwined, panting and sweating, lost in the haze of your shared orgasm, until you peeled yourself off and flopped down on your belly on the empty side of the bed.

Joel moved and told you “lift that pretty peach a bit for me, baby” so you smiled against the pillow and did as he said, arching your butt up a bit as you felt him press a few kisses against your backside before he leaned in and did something that almost made you black out during your intense afterglow: he lapped up his own cum where it was leaking out of you and gently ate you out from the back.

another man might’ve just gotten a towel but not him. Joel wanted to make sure that he was cleaning up the mess he´d made of you, while also using the excuse to spread your cheeks open and lick all the way from your puffy lips to right below your hole, teasing you, feeling you wiggle a bit in response. Joel was a tits man the same way he was an ass man, so he shamelessly ate you up and kissed the plump flesh as you laid there on your stomach, blissed out, enjoying your man´s lack of shame when it came to his desires - whenever he came on you or in you, it was an excuse for him to keep going for a little bit longer: if he came on your tits it was an excuse to suck on them again, if he came in your mouth it made him tongue kiss you again, if he came inside of you it was a way to make himself get a final taste of you. eventually, his primal energy left him and made him slump down next to you, your pussy nice and soothed by his soft tongue after all the fucking before.

you both laid there, spent, satisfied, quiet, his hand resting on your thigh, leaving you some space to calm down as he did the same, until you turned over and snuggled up to him, your head on his chest, his arm around your back again, a dazed smile on Joels face as you nuzzled up to him like that and asked “you all warm again now?”.

“hmm, you know just how to get me hot and bothered.. my pretty lil sunshine” he whispered and pulled your hand up to kiss each of your knuckles, adoration radiation from him in a way that almost made you shed a few tears when he briefly pressed your fingers against his cheek after that tender gesture, his eyes closed, a shuddering breath out that told you his level of comfort and happiness matched yours.

“needed this so bad...might´ve died without it, I swear” he mused and gazed down at you while he caressed you, traced your side, marveled at how silky smooth you were, drawing idle patterns right above your hip .“dont know how I survived the winters before you” he admitted, both to you and himself.

you turned your head to look up and smiled at him, “you wish you could keep me in here and just hibernate through the winter, don´t you, old man?”.

“excuse me, ma´am?” he asked, exaggerating his shock for effect, giving you a playful squeeze in response. “oh, I´ll show you old, you´re in for it next time, little lady, just you wait.”. 

“oh no, how will I manage?” you exclaimed, clearly not scared but very pleased by that threat, a barely suppressed smile on his face as you draped your leg over his and laid on him all boneless and smiley. 

it was a game you two liked to play: you making a remark about his advanced age, compared to yours, so he could willingly walk into that trap and prove himself to you, which always got you what you wanted, for example, one time when you made a comment about his knees being too weak when he got down in front of your chair after breakfast to give you head, which ended in him keeping you pinned to that chair until you´d come three times and had drenched his whole mouth, begging for him to go easy on you by the end, which had made him pull his head away, wipe his mouth all smug like “yeah, I think my knees work just fine, thanks for the concern though, baby”.

“such a tease” he said then, as he splayed his palm over your lower back and felt the heat there. “only for you” you murmured against his stomach, almost dozing off for a second there. “hmm damn right, all mine.. all mine..” he whispered in awe as he watched you, felt your weight on his body, thanked whichever version of God he was still capable of believing in that you´d been sent his way, that he got to have you like that, all to himself, throughout the harshest winters he´d ever known, his own personal sun, his source of light, his everything.

after ten more minutes of peaceful silence, he said “I´ll take that bath now, I think. only if you join, that is”. you got up and sat on the bed, caressed his arm and said “if you´re gonna wash my hair for me, then yes” giving him doe-eyes and rubbing his shoulder, which made him laugh “always, anything you need, princess. five more minutes though”. the last part was mumbled as he pulled you in, so you could sit on his legs and rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“ten.” you countered. “deal..” he whispered and rested his chin on your shoulder, eyes closed, relaxed, content, both of you melting into each other.

by that point it had started snowing again but you were blissfully unaware, not a care in the world about how cold it would be in the coming days or weeks or months until it would finally turn milder again, since you knew: we´ll keep each other warm. we´ll always come home to this. this endless source of life-affirming heat.

[vaquerospurs]

this is more headcanons than anything… but here you go anyway!

young!arthur getting scolded/teased by Dutch after word of arthur and readers wild night spreads around camp. how would he react? what would he say? etc etc…

“…honestly, i didn’t even think you knew what sex was-“ “DUTCH.”

tags ͡˚̣̣̣𓎟𓎟　 femreader　 you and arthur are the same age　 this is filled with awkwardness and embarrassment for you and him so this made me giggle bad　 a.m ౨ৎ ⋆ ｡ ˚

this didn't go to plan. hell, nothing went to plan in this life, in this gang. something always had to go wrong. this time, you and arthur got... intimate for the first time. and unfortunately, you were just a little too loud.

not like he could blame you. you knew what he wanted, and you'd let him know.. he'd just know how to touch you and get you all riled up. he knew what he was doing and that, shocked you a little. who even taught him that? really, you didn't want to think about it. though, this whole thing was not something you nor arthur wanted to be involved in, so embarrassing...

poor arthur was standing by dutch's tent. it was funny seeing a rugged man like him acting all awkward and embarrassing as his mentor was having a chat with him. dutch thought it was a little funny, seeing arthur react like this since this was a normal thing. everyone gets intimate one point in their own life, right?

“... i really needta go with marston now─” arthur says, averting his gaze every few seconds or so. he couldn't look futch in the eye or anyone else for that matter, knowing that everyone in camp heard what was going on last night.

“in a minute, my boy.. i just didnt think you knew how to treat a women so dearly.”

“dutch... i don't wanna talk 'bout this. ever, really.”

you felt embarrassed as you'd get teased by the women, but nothing could compare to the teasing and the joking that arthur had to endure. he was the lead enforcer, the workhorse, the man that almost everything depended on... and he, got himself lucky with a woman? arthur woulf udually get praised so highly and now, this was something that the other men could tease him on because not everyone was perfect in this life.

“honestly son, i didn't think you knew what sex was─”

“DUTCH!”

and you would think that hosea would side with arthur, telling dutch to stop annoying arthur about it since like you say, intimacy was a very normal thing!

“don't be like that, dutch.. he enjoyed himself, even if the whole camp heard.”

this embarrassment wouldn't end for a long time.

[vaquerospurs]

cries this is so precious.

soft comfort

pairings joel miller x sunshine!reader

summary joel never liked his name until he heard it from your lips.

“that’s how i know i’m home—hear you sayin’ my name. say it again tomorrow… and the day after that… every day, baby. for the rest of my life.”

content established relationship, unspecified age gap, fluff, emotional intimacy, soft romance, quiet domestic moments, joel being soft, protective, and tender. slight angst & emotional vulnerability, gentle comfort after emotional weight, themes of healing and safety in love.

masterlist

you say his name different than everyone else. softer. safer.

he never tells you that but every time you say it, he answers like he’s hearing it for the first time.

that night, it’s late when you finally climb into bed.

joel’s already there, one arm behind his head, eyes half-lidded and heavy. the window’s cracked, letting in the hush of wind.

the room is warm. so is he.

you slide beneath the covers, nestle into the space where his body’s already sunk into the mattress. he turns toward you instantly with his one arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in without a word.

your cheek finds his chest. his hand finds the curve of your spine.

neither of you speaks for a while.

“joel?”

your voice is quiet, breath brushing the fabric of his sleep shirt, warm over his heart.

he answers like he always does.

“yeah, baby?”

just hearing that melts something inside you. that little rasp in his voice, that southern drag that softens only for you. it’s not exhaustion. it’s trust. you know how hard that was for him.

you don’t follow it with a question. you just needed to say his name.

you like the way he sounds when he says yours back.

joel shifts a little, burying his face into your hair. “everything alright?”

“mhm,” you murmur. “just… like sayin’ it sometimes.”

that makes him go still for a moment. the kind of still that means his heart’s doing something complicated he doesn’t quite have the words for.

you hear him swallow.

“never liked my name 'til you said it.”

you smile.

“you’re serious?”

“dead serious,” he replies. “always thought it sounded too rough. too… hard.” he exhales through his nose, almost like a laugh.

“but when you say it… it sounds like somethin’ worth answerin’ to.”

the quiet wraps around you like a blanket.

you lift your head slightly, looking at him. he’s watching you with that expression like he’s still not used to being looked at like this. like he doesn’t understand how someone so beautiful like you can look at him that way.

so you say it again, soft and sweet.

“joel.”

his hand tightens on your waist.

you lean in, press a kiss just over his lips. “that name sounds like home to me.”

his chest rises sharply.

and then he whispers your name.

just once. like it’s the first time. like he’s tasting it. like he’s holding onto it.

it sounds different from anyone else saying it. not just because it’s deeper, or raspier, or coated in sleep but because it’s him. because it’s joel. and he says it like it’s sacred. like it belongs to him now, too.

you feel your eyes sting.

joel tucks his chin down to look at you better. “what’s wrong?”

you shake your head. “nothing. i just…”

you pause.

“i like the way you say my name.”

his smile is barely there, but it’s real. he kisses your forehead, lips lingering.

“i only ever wanna say it like this,” he says. “soft. close. where no one else gets to hear it.”

you don’t speak after that.

there’s nothing else to say. you and joel just lay there, breathing in sync, and in the quiet, in the dark, in the space between sleep and dreaming you whisper his name once more.

and joel answers like he’s hearing it for the first time.

“that’s how i know i’m home—hear you sayin’ my name. say it again tomorrow… and the day after that… every day, baby. for the rest of my life.”

[vaquerospurs]

Under the covers

Pairing: older!Joel x fem!Reader

Summary: you decide to give Joel a little blowie under the covers whislt he's busy talking on his phone.

Warnings: 18+. Cockwarming, Oral (m!receiving). Age gap (50s,20s), kinda freeuse with consent.

Note: hello! Welcome to my first pic, I hope y'all enjoy reading it and i humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3 💞💞

words: 2,063

Joel's thick eyebrows are knitted together slightly as he concentrates on the worn pages of "Moby Dick". He'd always found comfort in books, a quiet escape from the harsh realities of the world. His calloused fingers carefully turn the page, his eyes scanning the lines of dense text. The round frames perch precariously on his nose, slipping down slightly with each thoughtful wrinkle of his forehead. His eyes squint slightly behind them to read the tiny print. He looks almost scholarly, far removed from the tough, weather-beaten face everyone in town knew.

He continues reading silently, occasionally turning a page with a soft rustle of paper. Every so often he pauses to run a hand through his messy grey bed hair or adjust his glasses, completely lost in the world of Captain Ahab and the great white whale.

The sudden sound of running water breaks Joel's concentration. He glances up briefly, listening as the sink is turned on and the familiar sounds of someone getting ready for bed filter through the thin walls.

He settles back against the headboard, his focus returning to the book as he continues reading.

You stand before the mirror in your simple cotton nightgown, brushing your teeth vigorously. Your hair is down, waves falling past your shoulders. You catch your reflection - dark circles under your eyes from another long day, high cheekbones, and full lips wrapped around the toothbrush.

You finish brushing your teeth and rinse your mouth, spitting into the sink. You lean forward, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up slightly. You pat your face dry with a worn towel, hanging it back up neatly.

You exit the bathroom quietly, the cool night air of the bedroom greeting you as you step inside. Joel is still engrossed in his book, sitting upright against the headboard with pillows propped behind him for support.

You carefully crawl towards him on the bed, Your hair falls softly around your shoulders as you lean in towards him. Your voice comes out whispered and sweet. "Any good?" You ask, your lips already curving upward.

Before Joel can even respond, you close the distance between you two, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. It's quick and sweet, meant more as a playful interruption than anything else. You pull back just as quickly, smiling against his lips before settling back onto your pillow, watching him with amusement.

Joel blinks, momentarily startled by the kiss. He closes his book slowly, marking his page with a bookmark before setting it aside on the nightstand. A soft smile spreads across his face as he turns to look at you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bedside lamp. "Very good,"

Joel reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leans in to kiss you back, this time more deeply and passionately than your initial playful kiss. His lips move against yours with a tender hunger, one hand sliding into your hair while the other pulls you closer against him. "Much better,"

You giggle softly against his lips, breaking the kiss to press a series of quick, playful pecks all over his face - his cheeks, his nose, his forehead. "Mmm, better than the book?"

Joel laughs softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he enjoys your playful antics. He turns his head slightly to capture your lips again, but you pull back playfully, keeping the kisses light and teasing. "Definitely better than any book," he admits with a smile.

Just as you're playfully kissing Joel's face, his phone suddenly lights up on the nightstand with a video call notification. The screen displays 'Sarah' - his daughter. The sudden ring breaks the playful moment, and Joel freezes for a second before reaching over to answer the call. "Hey sweetheart,"

Sarah's face comes into view on the screen, her expression bright and cheerful. She's obviously calling at a late hour, but she doesn't seem to mind. "Hey Dad!" she greets enthusiastically. "I was just laying in bed and thought I'd give you a call."

Joel props himself up against the headboard, adjusting the angle of the phone so Sarah can see him clearly. His voice is warm and loving as he speaks. "Hey kiddo. Shouldn't you be asleep already? It's kind of late for a school night,"

"Yeah, yeah. I know, Dad. But I wanted to talk to you before I went to sleep." She pauses for a moment before asking, "What were you doing?"

Joel glances over at you briefly before turning his attention back to the screen. "Nothing much, sweetheart. Just reading before bed." He replies casually, not wanting to mention the playful kisses and affection that had been going on before the call. "What about you? Everything okay at school?"

Sarah nods enthusiastically on the screen. "Yeah everything is good! I got an A on my math test today!" She beams proudly. "And my babysitter said she'd pick me up tomorrow after school so we can go shopping." She pauses before asking, "Are you coming home soon?"

Joel smiles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he thinks about his daughter. "I'm actually on a business trip right now, sweetheart. But I'll be home next weekend, okay? We can do something fun then." He promises. "Is the babysitter taking good care of you?"

As Joel is mid-conversation with Sarah, he feels the sudden movement of the covers being lifted and someone slipping underneath them. He glances over confused, he sees you smirking under the blankets. Sarah is still chatting away innocently on the screen, "...Yeah Dad,"

Joel tries to keep his focus on Sarah's video call while feeling the covers moving around his waist. He lifts the blanket slightly to see what's happening below and he sees you crawling towards him with a playful smirk. He gives you a confused look,

Joel watches as you look up at him with a playful smirk, your finger pressed against your lips in a silent'shh.' He's utterly confused by your behavior. Sarah's voice breaks through the moment, "Dad, are you listening to me?"

Joel quickly looks back at the screen, trying to focus on Sarah's conversations while your hands start fiddling with his belt underneath the covers. He swallows hard, his voice slightly strained as he responds to Sarah.

"Yeah, sweetie. You were saying something about the school play, right?"

You continue working on Joel's belt buckle, your movements slow and deliberate beneath the covers. You can hear Joel trying to keep up his end of the conversation with Sarah.

Joel tries to reach under the covers to stop your hands but you playfully slap his hand away. Sarah continues talking, "Dad?" She calls. "Can I try out for the lead role in the school play?"

With his belt now fully unbuckled, you slide the zipper of his pants down slowly. Joel lets out a frustrated groan under his breath, trying not to be too loud on the call.

"Of course you can try out, sweetheart..." He's clearly having trouble focusing on Sarah's conversation now.

Without hesitation, you push your hand inside his open pants and start exploring further. Joel's breathing grows heavier, his jaw clenched in an attempt to maintain control.

On the screen, Sarah continues chatting excitedly about the upcoming school play, oblivious to her father's predicament. "I'm really excited,"

As you wrap your hand around his thick, growing erection, Joel lets out a silent groan, his eyes rolling back slightly. He tries to keep his voice steady on the call,

"That sounds great, honey. I'm proud of you..." His hand reaches out to grab your wrist, "Stop..."

You ignore his plea and continue stroking him, your bratty behavior coming out. Joel's grip on his phone tightens, trying to keep his composure while Sarah chatters on about costumes and rehearsals. "...And babysitter said she'd help me practice my lines"

Joel's eyes snap shut as he feels your warm, wet tongue teasing the tip of his erection. He bites back a moan, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently grab your hair, though he quickly releases it, remembering Sarah is on the call. "Mhm...that's nice sweetheart..."

Joel's breathing grows heavier and more irregular with each teasing lick. Sarah's voice drones on in the background about some drama with the costume committee.

As you start bobbing your head, taking more and more of Joel's length into your warm, wet mouth, he begins to pant heavily as he tries to focus on anything but the incredible sensation you're giving him. Sarah calls out again, "Dad? Hello? You okay?"

Joel manages to choke out a strained, "Yeah, honey, I'm here," his voice strained as he tries to maintain a normal tone while you continue sucking and slurping him softly under the blankets. As sarah continues talking about her day at school.

As you take him deeper, Joel's tip hits the back of your throat and you gag softly around him. His eyes roll back, a deep groan escaping his lips before he can catch himself. Sarah pauses again on the call, "Dad? You sound weird..."

Joel's breath hitches as you pull him out of your mouth with a wet pop, leaving a string of saliva connecting his tip to your plump lips. He tries desperately to keep his voice steady, "...I'm just tired, sweetheart. Had a long day is all." Sarah seems satisfied with that answer and continues chatting.

Joel's eyes snap open as he feels your warm spit land on his length followed by your soft giggle. He watches through slitted eyes as you stroke him slowly up and down, his mind reeling at how naughty and bratty you're being while Sarah chats innocently in the background.

Joel's grip on the phone tightens as you continue your teasing torture. You stroke him slowly, occasionally leaning down to lick or suck gently on the sensitive tip.

He tries to keep his responses to Sarah coherent, but his voice grows increasingly strained. "...Yeah...that sounds nice...honey."

You can feel Joel's cock throbbing in your hand as you continue your slow torture. You take him back into your mouth, sucking deeply before pulling away again to stroke him. His breathing becomes ragged, and he struggles to focus on Sarah's words.

Joel's jaw clenches as you continue your relentless teasing. You run your tongue up the underside of his length, wiggling it against the sensitive vein before sucking gently on the tip.

You wrap your hand around the base of Joel's cock and start pumping vigorously while sucking hard on the head. His hips buck involuntarily.

As Sarah continues chatting, Joel's breathing becomes rapid and shallow. He can feel his release building, his balls tightening. You sense this and quickly take him back into your mouth, sucking him deeply as he feels the familiar tingling sensation in his spine.

Joel's body tenses as he reaches the point of no return. With a final, deep thrust into your mouth, he comes undone. Hot, white strings of cum shoot down your throat as he lets out a muffled groan.

Trembling slightly from his intense release, he struggles to keep up with Sarah's conversation. His body is slick with sweat as you continue sucking gently, milking every last droplet from him. His breath catches in his throat while trying to respond to Sarah,* "...Yes...yes, honey...that sounds good..."

Joel watches you emerge from the covers, your body glistening with sweat. You look up at him with a playful smirk and wipe the side of your mouth with the back of your hand, catching the leftover cum. He swallows hard, finding your bratty behavior insanely hot.

Joel shoots you a warning look, his eyes dark with unspoken punishment promise. But he soon returns his attention to the phone call, trying to focus on Sarah's words. His voice is a bit rougher than before, giving him away slightly. "...Uh-huh...yeah..."

Sarah's voice comes through the speaker, slightly concerned "Hey Dad... wait, you sound kinda weird. Are you okay?" He clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. The damn AC's broken, that's all... I'm just hot."

Joel shifts slightly, trying to hide his smile as you snuggle up against him. He can feel your body heat against his side, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to keep his voice steady as he continues talking to Sarah. "...Yeah...yeah..."

[vaquerospurs]

𝒜𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃’

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Joel reluctantly helps elevate the ache between your legs.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Tent sex, MDMI, tiny bit of mean!joel, guided masturbation, fingering, PiV sex, overstimulation, dacryphilia, virginity loss, praise kink, slight oral (m receiving, one daddy mention, mutual orgasms and age gap (50s/20s)

𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: Tent on the way to Wyoming.

𝐏𝐎𝐕: 2nd person.

𝐖𝐂: 3.6k

꧁❦✯✫彡

The tent is small. Barely enough room for both you and Joel, but it’s warm with both your breaths and the shitty sleeping bags that you both looted from Bill and Franks. Outside the world is dark, thick and quiet-but not eerily so. The trees are alive and you can hear them creak gently as they sway in the light wind. There’s only one problem. The ache between your legs.

It started earlier in the car, before you both decided to stop here for the night and that was five fucking hours ago. It started with a soft pulse between your thighs, but grew to your untouched cunt clenching everytime you looked at Joel or if he muttered something vague in that Texas drawl. Your nipples were hardened underneath your bra and everything felt hot. Your skin was flushed. Joel even asked you if you were okay at one point, and Joel never asks that.

You didn’t know what it was- well yeah, you did. You were twenty-two, not stupid. You just hadn’t ever felt this needy before. You didn’t understand what brought it on. Sure you’d felt this way before back when you were living in your dingy apartment in Boston, but the world was so dark and unsafe that you never took care of it. But it was never this intense. You were facing Joel, laying on your side. He was on his side too but facing the other way like he always did. There was probably a couple inches between you considering how small the tent was and that just made your situation even worse. Joel wasn’t much of a talker. You had known him for five months now and he’s saved your ass more times than you can count. He was initially supposed to be taking you to Salem to meet with the fireflies, but things didn’t exactly go to plan so now you were both heading for Wyoming to see Joel’s brother, an ex-firefly who may know where they are. He was pretty closed off and probably would prefer not to listen to your yapping, but you both formed some sort of a bond over the last couple months. And to be honest, you don’t know what you’d do without him.

His broad shoulders moved a little with each breath he took, but you could tell he wasn’t sleeping. Five months on the road together meant you could practically read him like a book. The ache between your thighs was almost unbearable now. You did try and elevate the ache with your hand earlier when Joel turned around, but every time it started to feel good, it slipped away and just made you even more frustrated. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Joel?” you whispered. He didn’t answer but his shoulders tensed a little at your voice. You knew he was awake and probably just pretending he was asleep so he didn’t have to listen to you nagging him.

“Joel,” you said again, not in a whisper anymore.

“What?” he snapped out. Not bothering to turn around. Normally, the snap in his voice would make you wince, but right now you just needed someone to help you out.“I.. i don’t feel good.”

You don’t feel good? What the fuck did you say that for. God, you shouldn’t have opened your mouth at all in the first place. You were going to sound so goddamn stupid.

He turned around at that, rolling onto his other side to face you. It was too dark in the tent to his face, but you could see the curve of his jaw and the bump of his noise.

God, this man was so sexy right now.

He leaned over and switched on the battery powered lantern to see you better. He actually looked concerned. Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that. He’s probably gonna think you’re infected or something.

“What d’ya mean ya don’t feel good?”

“Uh..” you paused. What were you meant to say now? Oh yeah Joel, I am so fucking horny right now, can you fuck me to make me feel better? God, this was humiliating.

He sat up in his sleeping bag and twisted his body to watch you properly. “What kid? Spit it out, some of us actually wanna sleep tonight.”“I just feel weird- like my body- uhm.. between my legs.”

He was quiet for a beat, looking at you like his brain couldn’t register that you actually said that to him. His hand came up to his face and ran down it exhaustively.

You chewed on your bottom lip, afraid to say anything in case you made this incredibly embarrassing situation any worse. You just sat up and brought your knees to your chest, tucking them under your chin, pressing them together for obvious reasons.

“Christ,” he muttered. “Why’r ya tellin’ me this, for god sakes.” Your cheeks burned and you refused his gaze. God, you felt like a stupid kid. This was humiliating.

“Just.. thought you could help me..”

“Jesus..” he said, switching the lantern off and laying back down. He turned over on his side, facing away from you once again. But, this time he scooted further away from you, as if you’d pounce on him if he was any closer to you.

You felt humiliated. If a clicker came along right now, you would gladly hand yourself to it. But still, as if the embarrassment wasn’t enough, your panties were still damp and your clit pretty much had a heartbeat of its own. You squirmed around in the sleeping bag, trying to find a position that was more comfortable in your.. situation, but nothing worked. Before you could stop yourself, a soft whimper escaped your mouth from frustration of how badly you ached. Joel stilled and so did you.

“What the fuck was that?” He said, turning over again, his voice etched with frustration that made your cheeks once again, burn. You opened your mouth and tried to find the words to respond that didn’t make you look like a complete fool. “I uhm..”

“Listen, I ain’t your fuckin’ boyfriend. You’re cargo. I didn’t take you to show you how to finger yourself. Either get out of tent and get yourself off, or go to sleep.”

If you were feeling any other way, his harshness would probably make your throat tighten. But right now, the way he was speaking to you made you want him to do unholy things to you. You stomach fluttered and you clenched around nothing. This was pathetic.

“I just- please Joel, I don’t know what else to do, I can’t just.. get myself off, I don’t know how.” You whined.

“You’re- what? Jesus girl, your twenty somethin’ years- anyway, doesn’t matter it ain’t my problem. You’re a big girl, figure it out.” He barked. You could hear his sleeping back rustle as he brought it up higher over him, as if to shield himself from this conversation.

“Joel, please! It aches, it has all day. I promise I won’t ask for anything else- you don’t even have to touch me-just tell me how and then we can go to sleep I promise.” You babbled out sitting up and crawling over to the lantern to turn it on. You sat back on your hunches, watching Joel squint from the sudden invasion of his eyes.

“Fuck- fine, fine! But this ain’t gonna be a..” he gestured between you both. “-a thing, between us. I’ll help ya with this but that’s it then, no more.” He said settling on his back and running both hands over his face.

Your eye’s widened. Sure you wanted this, but you didn’t expect him to actually agree. “Yeah- yeah I promise, just this once I swear.”

He huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright then uh- lay back down and take your pants off.” He said, keeping his gaze at the roof of the tent. You lay back against the sleeping bag and took your jeans and soaked-through panties off with the kind of urgency that would be embarrassing if you weren’t so fucking turned on. You settled back comfortably on your back and tried to control your breating, your heart thrumming in your ears. “Okay, open your legs and dip your middle finger through your slit- bring it to your clit.”

A confused expression formed on your face and you turned your face toward him, questioning without speaking. “‘S a lil bump at the top, it’ll make ya feel good.” He said, closing his eyes as if that will make this highly inappropriate situation with a girl young enough to be his daughter any better. You did as he said, dipping your middle finger through your folds and coating them in your slick. You let out a shuddering breath as you dragged it up to that bundle of untouched nerves at the top of your slit. “Okay-,” you said, waiting for your next instruction.

“Then, start circling it, nice n slow. Put a little pressure down on it.” He said, but now with a slight rasp in his voice. You twisted your head a little to get a look at him. He was shuffling around a little in the sleeping bag, adjusting himself. Was he getting off on this?

You, nonetheless did as he told you. You pressed down slightly on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you. You gave yourself a second to get used to it before starting to circle, nice and slow just like Joel instructed.

Your fingers moved clumsily at first, but you eventually got the hang of it. Your hips bucked up uncontrollably into your hand, seeking more friction as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Joel,” you whimpered.

“What is it? It hurt?” He said in a surprisingly soft coo-like rasp. But there was still an under lying annoyance. It made your body heat up and your lips part in another moan.

“A little, but feels good.”

He nodded. “S’okay, just the build. You’re doin’ fine.”

You cried out suddenly, your pace on your clit quickening rapidly, causing more arousal to drip from your weeping hole.

“F-fuck..”

“Yeah?” He mumbled.

“Ye-ah, gonna come..”

Joel face screwed up, his composure slipping away. The way you bucked your hips up, the way you called his name and the noises, fuck the noises.. it was too much. The voice in his head was screaming at him to control himself, but his throbbing cock had other plans. He shot up from his position, ignoring the ache in his back when he did.

You stilled your movements when he did, your hand trembling slightly. Your voice came out breathless and desperate. “What are you-,”

His body was over you before you could finish your sentence, pressing sloppy kisses to your mouth, his hand cradling your cheek. You quickly responded to his kisses, a whine clawing out of your parred lips. Your hands moved up to his neck, cupping it softly, your thumbs running over the patches of hair there.

He broke the kiss, but didn’t go far. His face hovered over yours and his uneven breath fanned over your face. “I need to know you’re sure you want this baby- eyes up here,” he said gripping your chin and forcing you to look him in his eyes. “I need you to use your words for me.”

You nodded, looking between his two eyes rapidly. “I want it-please- can’t wait any longer.”

That was all he needed.

He worked his flannel off, undoing each button eagerly and pushing it off his shoulders. You thought it was only fair you took off your shirt too, so you sat up a little and took your Henley top off, tossing it aside and unclasping your bra. By the time you were done, Joel’s cock was already out, the tip red and angry. It was your first time ever seeing a penis. You grew up an orphan in the QZ and were thrown out to fend for yourself by the time you were eighteen. You never got involved with anyone, too dangerous so it wasn’t like you had ever seen a real one except from a diagram when you were learning about penis anatomy in biology class. It was daunting to look at to say the least.

He was at least seven inches, heavy balls with a patch of dark hair around his cock and sack. You bit down on your lip and before your could stop yourself, your hand wrapped around the base. Joel groaned, dropping his head down to your forehead.

“Fuck baby girl, such a sweet girl.” He mumbled.

“Can you tell me what to do?” You whispered. Your voice would probably be incoherent if you both weren’t so close.

“You don’t have-,”

“But I want to.”

Joel froze, then leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Okay. Bring your hand to your mouth and get it nice ‘n wet.”

Your eyes dilated, your lip caught between your teeth. You brought your hand up to your mouth and gathered some saliva in your mouth, letting it drop down into your hand.

“Juustt like that baby, now just squeeze a little, stroke up and down.”

You nodded your head and brought your spit-slick hand back down to his cock and wrapped it around his shaft. You gave his cock a small, gentle squeeze as you stroked it once. A rumbling groan from Joel’s chest spurred you on, so you continued.

Joel’s hand covered yours, guiding your movements as his eyes fluttered closed. “Ah-fuck.. just like that honey, jerk my cock.”

Your lungs punched out a moan. Seeing him getting off like this was making your pussy drip like a goddamn faucet. Watching Joel’s face contort in pleasure was definitely something you never wanted to forget. The feeling of the soft skin of his hard cock in your hand felt better than any sex could.

He abruptly moved your hand off him and cupped your cheeks. His lips came to yours in a desperate kiss, firmer this time. His thumb stroked the apple of your cheek while you both kissed. “You haven’t done this before?” He mumbled against your lips.

You pulled back and shook your head. “No.. but I’m ready.” You said, breathlessly, hands clinging to his biceps. You could see slight hesitation in his expression, but nonetheless, his hand trailed down to your pussy, lightly testing the waters. His middle finger pressed down on your quivering hole, checking to see how ready you were.

“Fuck baby girl, she’s just cryin’ f’me ain’t she? Just needs some lovin’,”

“Mhm.. needs you..”

“Yeah well, we gotta get her ready first, don’t wanna hurt ya honey. Gonna just use my fingers first and then I’ll give ya the real thing, promise.”

“Okay.” You breathed out.

Joel eased his fingers into your untouched hole, but got two in easily from how soaked you were all day. At first it felt a little strange- not painful just.. foreign. But as soon as he was knuckles deep, curling them up with his thumb on your clit, pleasure easily started taking over. At first, an overwhelmed moan left your mouth, but Joel quickly soothed you with his words and gentle kisses on your face.

“That’s it baby, just breath through it.”

“Doin’ so well baby.”

“Just feel it honey, feel my fingers hittin’ that little spot.”

Overstimulated and aching for release, you cried out his name, clinging to his biceps as you bucked your hips up into his hand. “Yes, yes- thank you j-oel- ah!” The coil in your belly was building rapidly and intensified with every thrust of his fingers pressing against your g-spot and every circle on your clit.

“Come on baby, give it to me. You gonna make a mess for me?” He rumbled into your ear. You were so fucked out that you could barely concentrate on what he was saying. Before you knew it, you were crying out, tears streaming down your face as you experienced your first orgasm. Your pussy rippled and clenched around Joel’s fingers as you collapsed into the sleeping bag. Chest heaving.

“There you go baby. Did so well.” He cooed, lips trailing from your neck down to your breast. Joel caught a peak in his mouth and sucked gently on it. The feeling caught you off guard, who knew someone sucking on your nipple could feel so good. You could feel a drop of arousal dribble out of your overstimmed hole. “Joel..” you called, hands in his hair.

“Mmm? Can you handle more? You don’t gotta do nothin’ you’re not comfortable with sweet girl.”

“No-no I want it-please Joel.” You responded eagerly. The thought of him not being inside you in the next two minutes made you crazy. A rare smirk formed on Joel’s face as he leaned down to kiss you gently.

“I know that’s right.” He mumbled, lips brushing yours gently as he gripped his cock in one hand. The tip of him brushed your clit, making you shiver.

Joel’s voice was gentle as he pushed inside, his fat tip stretching you deliciously. The feeling was overwhelming to say the least, but you felt that you would die if he stopped. He distracted you from the burn with sweet kisses and before you knew it, he was balls deep. When the realisation hit you, you cried out, dropping your head back against your pack in which you were using as a pillow. It was so much better than his fingers. Joel groaned pressing his face into your neck as he started to thrust in and out.

The thrusts were slow, more of a grind than anything, but he was so deep his tip kissing that spot so well. Your hands scrambled around his neck, pulling his chest flush to yours.

“Feel so.. full Joel.”

“That’s right honey. Stuffed up huh?”

At that he pulled back, looking at where you were both joined. Watching how he stretched you. “Ohhh biiig stretch baby. ‘M so proud of you.”

“I love being stretched for you.. so much joel.” You said, a sob escaping your plush lips as he thrusted in deeply.

Something snapped in Joel when you said it. Whatever it was, it made him throw his head back, both hands gripping your belly as he picked up the pace just slightly.

“Ohhh.. baby girl.” He groaned out head now falling forward. With each thrust a bulge formed in your belly. It caused Joel to use one of his hands to trace the outline of him.

“You feel me right there honey? Feel how perfect we fit?” He said, other hand travelling down your belly to your clit and circling it.

That was it.

In a matter of seconds you were falling apart, thighs shaking, tent filling with the sounds of your sobs and cries. White flashes clouded your vision and with one big clench, you soaked his cock.

This seemed to push joel over the edge because he was now not just grunting and groaning, but moaning your name. The feeling was euphoric. Joel pulled out, his hand reaching for his cock to finish on your belly. Before his hand could wrap around you grabbed his hand, pushing it away.

“What-,”

Before he could finish, you had him rolled over. You were straddling his lap with a dizzy head from the orgasm you literally just had. You crawled down his body and settled between his legs. It’s not like you exactly knew what you were doing, but all you knew was that you wanted to give him the same attention he gave you.

“Oh baby..” he said in more of a whine than anything. “You don’t gotta do that honey, you’re exhausted.”

“Please let me.” You said softly, puppy dog eyes looking directly up at joel as you held his member in your hand and kitten licked it, eliciting a groan from him. “Please daddy.”

That was it, joel pushed your head down, not hard, just hard enough that your mouth wrapped around his cock. His hips stuttered and he came in your mouth. All from hearing you call him daddy. Thick ropes of cum coated your tongue, your taste buds memorising the taste of him. Joel’s head thumped back as he came, an: “ohhh,” sound coming out of his parted lips.

You had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a one time thing.

[vaquerospurs]

he would be so sweet and soft spoken to you when you’ve had the worst day ever and he can easily tell when you need him most so he’ll hold you against his chest as he tenderly kisses your tears away while whispering reassurance into your ear

[vaquerospurs]

Don’t mind me..just going crazy over this senior citizen.

Imagine having a small agreement with the old man next door—you fix his old computer whenever it shuts off, and in return—you get to bounce on his cock while doing that :)

„Ugh, what the hell did you do with this thing again.“

And it’s always Joel suppressing a smug smirk because he most definitely not went to sketchy websites, collecting all the viruses he could find, so he could feel you wrapped around him once more.

But you were still always dedicated on fixing his computer.

Even if you were sitting on his cock, him behind you, enjoying the way he plays with your nipples, caresses your soft tummy and sometimes leaving small kisses on your neck.

Whenever growing tired of the frustrating process, you start to bounce on him, just to give you some sort of break from all. And whenever you do, his hands grip you tight, hips beginning to buck up from the bottom, his little groans and moans being heard in your ear.

„Don‘t get ahead of yourself, girl. Start fixing.“ when he notices you getting lost in the pleasure.

And you wouldn‘t do this for him, if it‘s not for the orgasms he gives you. He was a mean, annoyed and grumpy man after all. Never satisfied with anything.

„God damn—creaming all over me. S‘ that what y‘only good for? Can‘t even turn that thing on anymore.“

He would always tease you, thrusting his hips up and hearing your little whimpers—trying so hard to concentrate on his computer. Chuckling whenever he sees you gripping his mouse extra tight.

„C-can‘t if you keep doing that.“ breathless and on the verge of an orgasm—he stops, squeezing your hips roughly.

„Not cumming 'till you fix it. C‘mon now.“

And he would never sit still. Always thrusting up, thumb sneaking his way to your clit, rubbing circles, bringing you to the verge of an orgasm, only to stop completely.

But when his computer really works, he rewards you. Bending you over on his desk, fucking you hard and praises you for doing so well.

„Smart fuckin‘ girl. Now you deserve to cum.“

Yea </3

[vaquerospurs]

absolute perfection, as always.

Firewater - Chapter 6

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader. explicit.

Four days pass.

taglist: @v3lv3tf0x, @stottlemorgan, @mrsarthurmorgan7, @appalachiancowboy99, @pinescent-and-gingerbread, @blueskies664, @arthurstinmug, @ultraporcelainpig, @emerald-ranch @thedilfdiaries, @heron-feathers,@nalitali

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous | ➵ Next

Four days pass before either one of you has the courage to really talk to one another again—four days of ribbing and teasing from the other members of the gang at your expense.

When Arthur comes to you and mumbles something about a job to make up for your previous abject failure, you jump at the chance to get out of camp. Even if it does come with commentary from everyone as you pack up.

You and Arthur ride in silence for the first half-hour, the trail winding between scrub and cactus, the quiet only broken by the occasional snort from the horses. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but there’s something hovering between you. Not quite tension. Not quite ease, either. Something new. Something fragile and awkward and unspoken. 

You glance over at him. He hasn’t looked your way once.

Typical.

“You always get this quiet after—” you start, but cut yourself off before you say sex in the dirt.

Arthur doesn’t miss the pause. His eyes slide toward you, dry as desert bone. “After what?”

You shrug, tugging your reins slightly as the trail narrows. “After you get your way.”

That earns you a snort. “You think that was me gettin’ my way? Seemed to me like you were makin’ more noise than I was.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you shoot him a look, brows raised. “I only got loud so you’d stop talkin’.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else.”

“And you are lucky I didn’t leave you tied to a cactus afterward.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he mutters. “At least it wouldn’t talk so much.”

You grin, despite yourself. The banter is easy again- sharp and playful. Familiar. The awkward weight starts to lift as the two of you fall into the rhythm of riding and ribbing each other, just like before.

Almost.

By late morning, you reach the ridge overlooking the ranch. It’s a modest place, nestled between two sandstone outcroppings—big enough to be worth the gang’s time, small enough to scout without raising suspicion. A couple of barns, a corral, and a main house with a wide porch shaded by tired-looking cottonwoods.

You both dismount and lead the horses to some brush cover a little ways back. You drop to your haunches beside Arthur in the scrub, binoculars in hand. He nudges your knee with his.

“You see any guards?”

“Just the two out front,” you murmur, scanning the porch. “One’s half-asleep. The other’s pickin’ his nose like it’s his job.”

Arthur chuckles. “Real fine security. Bet Dutch’ll love that.”

You lower the binoculars and glance at him. “You think it’s worth hitting?”

He nods, jaw ticking slightly. “Maybe. Depends on what is in the barns. We give it a couple more hours, get the patrol pattern down.”

You sigh and stretch your legs out, arms behind you in the grass. “So, we just wait.”

“That’s what stakeouts are, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart.”

He smirks. “You didn’t seem to mind it the other night.”

Your body tenses—just a flicker—but it’s enough for him to notice. Of course he notices.

You sit up, brushing the dust from your pants. “That was the whiskey talking.”

“That so?”

You shoot him a look. “And the heat. And your very punchable face.”

Arthur leans back on his elbows, eyes trailing lazily over the ranch before settling back on you. “Well, whatever it was, it sure had you scratchin’ at my back like I was gonna disappear.”

Your breath catches—and your glare deepens. “That’s rich, comin’ from the man who couldn’t shut up.”

“I don’t remember you complainin’.” He leans closer, voice dropping. “Matter of fact, I remember you tellin’ me harder.”

You flush, your mouth parting before you can stop yourself. “You are such an ass.”

“Uh-huh.” He turns his attention back toward the house, lips twitching. “An ass that rode you like hell.”

You’re too stunned to say anything for a moment, blinking at him. Then you give a short laugh, shaking your head.

“Jesus, Arthur.”

“What?”

“You gonna keep bringin’ it up?”

He shrugs. “Only if it keeps makin’ you all red like that.”

You shoot him a withering glare. “I’m gonna push you down this hill.”

“And then what?” he drawls. “Drag me behind the barn and have your way with me again?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I ain’t,” he says with a smirk. “But I am observant. And I can tell when someone’s lookin’ at me like they wanna misbehave.”

You glare. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re twitchin’ your legs like you can’t decide.”

He’s not wrong.

You shift uncomfortably in the dirt, wishing the heat on your skin was just from the sun. But it’s not. It’s him. His voice, his grin, the memory of his hands on your hips and your name on his lips.

You take the binoculars again, holding them up like a shield.

Arthur chuckles softly beside you. “Don’t worry. I can behave. For now.”

“Good,” you mutter, your mouth dry. “Because we’ve got a job to do.”

“Mm-hm.” He leans back again, folding his arms behind his head.

-

You lie flat on your stomach in the scrub, elbows propped up, binoculars steady in your hands. The sun is past its peak now, casting long shadows across the dusty plain. The ranch hasn’t changed much. Same guards, same routine. A wagon came in about thirty minutes ago, unloaded some crates into the barn, then rolled back out.

It’s mind-numbing work, but necessary. And quiet.

For a little while.

Arthur lies beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours now and then. He hasn’t said much in the past hour, which you’d almost call progress. Until you feel it—his hand, rough and warm, settling on your thigh.

You freeze.

His voice is quiet, close to your ear. “Y’know, I’ve been real good this whole time.”

Your eyes stay fixed on the ranch house. “Arthur.”

“Haven’t touched you. Haven’t even looked at you sideways. Which, given the way you were moanin’ my name the other night, I think shows a hell of a lot of restraint.”

You lower the binoculars and turn your head toward him slowly, brows raised. “You want a medal?”

He grins, utterly unrepentant. “Nah. Just wonderin’ how much longer I gotta behave before you break again.”

“Break?” you scoff. “You broke first, Morgan. I recall you gettin’ all desperate on the rocks like you couldn’t wait to get your hands on me.”

His hand slides a little higher, thumb grazing through the thin fabric of your skirts. “Desperate, huh? That what it was?”

“I’ve seen starving men with more self-control.”

Arthur hums low in his throat, and his fingers flex on your thigh. “You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna prove you wrong right here.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you whisper, a shiver skating up your spine.

“Oh, I would.” His voice goes lower, full of gravel and heat. “You think I ain’t been thinkin’ about it? You bent over these rocks… hot little mouth runnin’… skirt ridin’ up in this breeze…”

As if to demonstrate his point, his hand slips beneath your skirt now, callused fingers dragging the fabric up slowly. You hiss softly, but don’t stop him.

“Arthur—”

“I’ll stop,” he murmurs, pressing his palm over the curve of your rear through your drawers. “Just say the word.”

You don’t.

You shift your weight slightly, your thighs pressing together on instinct. He feels it.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “That’s what I thought.”

His touch lingers, thumb tracing a slow, maddening circle through your rapidly dampening drawers. The wind rustles the dry grass around you, and somewhere below, a cow lowing in the corral drifts up the hill.

“I swear to God,” you mutter, half into the dirt, “if someone from the ranch looks up here and sees you feelin’ me up—”

“They ain’t lookin’,” Arthur says, nudging your hair aside with his nose. 

You half-turn toward him, mouth open to bite off another insult—only for it to be swallowed by his kiss. It’s rough and sudden, all teeth and heat, his hand firm on the back of your neck as he pulls you to him. You gasp into it, one arm bracing against the ground as the other fists in the front of his shirt.

The kiss breaks, but barely.

“Turn over,” he mutters, voice rough.

You don’t. You shift to your hands and knees instead, skirts bunched around your waist, the air cool against your legs now. When you glance over your shoulder, he’s already behind you, eyes dark and mouth parted, breathing shallow.

“You’re trouble,” he replies, tugging your drawers down your thighs with a low groan. “The worst kind.”

Your only answer is a soft, wicked smile.

His fingers move from your thigh up to your bared cunt, touching you gently enough for you to be surprised that he has the ability to.

“You’re soaked,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Didn’t even have to work for it.”

You scoff, hips twitching into his touch. “You’re not that charming, Morgan. Heat must’ve gone to my head.”

He chuckles, low and slow. “Right. Has nothin’ to do with my fingers bein’ where you clearly want ‘em.”

Then he touches you properly, and the air leaves your lungs in a sound you can’t quite muffle. One strong hand anchors you by the hip as the other works slow, steady circles with two fingers to the knuckles inside of you.

You bite your lip hard enough to sting.

“Don’t hold back on me now,” he mutters, voice thick. “Wasn’t shy the other night.”

“Keep talkin’,” you pant, “and I might forget how generous I’m feelin’.”

He grins. “What, this ain’t generous enough?”

His fingers speed up slightly, coaxing you open, finding exactly what you need without even asking. He reads you like a goddamn book—every twitch of your hips, every gasp, every time you try and fail to bite back a sound.

You brace your hands harder into the dirt, feeling the heat build, sharp and fast.

“God,” you whisper, dizzy. “I hate you.”

“Shoah,” he breathes, leaning over you to drag his mouth along your shoulder. “Hate me so much you’re about to come on my hand.”

And you do. It hits you hard, sudden and overwhelming, your body tightening around his fingers as he works you through it. You cry out—quiet but wrecked—and collapse forward slightly, arms trembling under your weight.

He groans softly behind you, pulling his hand away, then wipes it lazily against the hem of your skirt. “Jesus,” he mutters, breath ragged. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Would’ve done it already if I meant to,” you manage, voice muffled in your sleeve.

You hear the buckle of his belt next, then the sound of trousers being shoved down, and then he’s there—his hands on your hips, pulling you back toward him as he presses against you. His cock parts your folds and pushes into your body, as easily as it did the other day. The stretch draws a gasp from your lips, your body still fluttering from the aftershocks of his hand.

Arthur groans low and curses under his breath. “Goddamn,” he rasps. “You are tryin’ to ruin me.”

“You make it so easy,” you breathe, rocking back into him.

He sets a rhythm quickly, hard and deliberate. His grip on your hips is bruising and perfect. You meet each thrust with a bite of sarcasm or a gasp you can’t hold in.

“Still hate me?” he pants.

“Yes.”

“Sure don’t feel like it.”

You feel him everywhere—his breath on your neck, his hips against yours, his fingers bruising into your skin. It’s fast, filthy, and so good.

The rhythm builds, the sharp snap of Arthur’s hips meeting yours echoing in your bones, the dirt under your knees, the air thick with heat and sweat and that low, wrecked sound he makes every time you tighten around him.

Your banter fades—not all at once, but in pieces, like a campfire burning down to ashes.

You still want to say something biting. Something smug.

But all that comes out is a gasp. And his name.

His hands slide up your sides, steadying you, anchoring you as your body starts to shake again. 

“Come for me,” he growls, voice rough and barely held together.

You don’t need the order. You’re already there—spurred by his voice, his touch, the raw stretch of his inches inside you. Your hands claw into the earth as a second climax slams into you, blinding and hot and sudden. You cry out, the sound torn from your throat, and your body clamps down around him so tightly he curses through his teeth.

“Shit—Jesus—” he chokes, staggering on the edge.

He pulls out fast, just in time, one hand still gripping your hip as the other fists around himself. His spend hits a second later, hot and messy against the back of your thigh, painting your skin in proof of how much pleasure he got from you.

You both stay frozen for a moment, the only sounds are your shared, ragged breathing and the rustle of wind in the dry scrub.

Then Arthur leans forward, his chest brushing your back as he presses a kiss just below your shoulder blade—so soft it startles you.

“Christ,” he mutters, forehead resting between your shoulder blades. “You really are gonna be the death of me.”

You breathe out a half-laugh, still trembling. 

You both collapse slowly into the dirt, tangled in heat and dust and silence that feels deeper than before. Nothing clever comes next. Just the sound of your hearts settling back into rhythm—together, for now, in the hush of the desert.

[vaquerospurs]

Imagine Joel teaching you how to go down on him

Pairing: Jackson!Joel x f!Reader

Joel’s Masterlist

WC: 3.3k

Tags/Warnings: smut, minors DNI, porn with no plot, unspecified but big age gap, oral (m!receiving), virginity, unprotected piv (just the tip), daddy kink, baby-talking, young and innocent reader, condescending joel, terms like baby girl, sweet little girl etc.

You two had started slow, like always. You were curled into his chest on the old couch of his house, legs draped over his lap, while the fire crackled. Joel’s arm was heavy around your shoulders, his hand warm against your thigh, thumb rubbing little circles into the cotton of your sleep shorts.

“Y’cold, baby?” he murmured, voice all gravel and syrup.

You shook your head against him. “No… m’alright.”

“You’re shiverin’.”

“M’not,” You whispered, even though you definitely were, but it wasn’t because the cold.

He chuckled low, the kind that rumbled from his chest into yours, and then he kissed you slow, like he had all the time in the world to taste you, making you moan softly against his mouth, fingers curling in the flannel of his shirt.

It always escalated the same way, his hand sliding under your shirt, rough fingers toying with your nipple until you gasped into his mouth, letting your hand press against the hard bulge in his jeans, and God, the way he groaned when you rubbed him, the way he’d mutter, “Atta girl… jus’ like that,” until he got so worked up you’d feel him twitch and pulse in his jeans, cumming from nothing but your hand over denim... you loved knowing it was you doing that to him.

But tonight… You were hungry for me more, eager to please him, to show him you were a big girl.

Joel pulled back from the kiss, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek, looking at you like you were some fragile little thing he couldn’t quite believe he got to hold.

“You alright, baby?”

You nodded but your throat was tight with the words you were trying to say.

“Tell me,” he said softly, eyes never leaving yours.

You swallowed. “I wanna… I wanna try somethin’. But I need you to teach me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “What kind of somethin’?”

You blushed, you were so shy you couldn’t meet his eyes right away. “I… wanna go down on you.”

Joel didn’t move for a second, he just stared at you, and then his lips curled into that lazy, crooked smirk you knew so well. You, his little baby, asking him to teach you how to blow him, it was a wet dream come true.

“Oh, baby girl…” He said it like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, but then he leaned back slightly on the couch, spread his legs just a little, and his hand cradled your jaw, thumb brushing over your lips. “You wanna suck my cock, huh?”

The way he said it, teasing, condescending, like you were some precious little thing begging to be taught, made your thighs rub against the other.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Will you show me how, Joel?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed, voice already thick with arousal, “you ask real nice, don’tcha?”

He reached for his belt, undoing it slow like he wanted you to watch every single step of this, like he needed you to see what you’d been touching all this time.

“You sure ‘bout this, honey? You don’t gotta do nothin’ you’re not ready for.”

“I want to,” you whispered. “I want you to teach me.”

Joel exhaled like he was trying to calm himself, jaw clenching for a second before he cupped the back of your head to guide you down, gently, until you were kneeling between his spread thighs.

“Look at you down there… christ, you look like you were made for this.”

Your cheeks burned but you couldn’t look away from him, from the way he sat there, jeans undone, cock hard and straining in his briefs.

“Take him out, baby,” Joel murmured, his voice lower now, husky. “Nice and slow.”

You did, fingers shaking a little as you tugged his underwear down. And there he was, just like you'd expected, thick, flushed, twitching, leaking at the tip already, making your mouth go dry.

“C’mere, wrap your hand around me.” Joel said, his hand curling gently around yours, guiding your fingers to wrap around his shaft, it was huge compared to your tiny hands, which could barely wrap all the way around him. “There we go. That’s it. Hold him just like that.”

He tilted his hips, the weight of him heavy in your hand.

“Start slow,” Joel murmurs. “Yeah, like that. Just stroke it. All the way up, then back down.”

You move your hand like he told you, up and down, watching his face, his eyes flutter closed briefly, his hips twitch.

“Good. Now—“ His voice drops to a groan. “Use both hands. One at the base, one near the tip. Gentle twist when you go up, yeah thassit.”

You do as he says, and his head falls back against the couch.

“Jesus, baby…”

Your confidence builds with every sound he makes. You twist your wrist slightly, slide your palm over the slick head, he bucks just a little, jaw clenched.

“That part’s sensitive,” he pants. “Just a little pressure there, not too much. You’ll know when it’s too much ‘cause I’ll start beggin’.”

You grin. “I like that idea.”

“Lick the tip, baby,” he said, almost gently. “Just a lil’ taste. Like a popsicle.”

You obliged instantly, letting your tongue flick out shyly against the fat mushroom head, in responde Joel groaned so deep it made you clench your thighs together tighter.

“Fuck, that’s it… Good girl.”

You did it again, this time slower, flattening your tongue against the head, tasting the salty precum as you swirled it around. It all felt so filthy, you there on your knees, giving him soft, teasing kitten-licks on his huge cock. Joel was drinking it all in, savoring the sight, trying to burn the image into his memory. No doubt that the man would be jerking off to this whenever you weren’t around.

“Goddamn, you’re good at this already. Natural little cocksucker, huh?”

His words made you whimper, you felt dizzy, your cheeks were hot, maybe because of your shyness, maybe because of how aroused you were. He found it endearing, how innocent you looked and yet how eager and willing you were to please him. It was almost ridiculous, really: that soft, delicate face beneath him, while his thick, veiny cock stood proud right in front of you.

Joel guided you again, thumb brushing your cheek as he spoke.

“Open your mouth now. Wider. That’s it. Just the tip, baby, just take the head in. You’re not ready for the whole thing yet, just enough so I can feel that warm little mouth.”

You almost wanted to whine, to tell him, “I’m a big girl, Joel. I can take all of it.” But if Joel said you weren’t ready, then you trusted him, he always knew better. You wrapped your lips around him, sucking gently, and he hissed, head falling back against the couch. His cock stretched your lips just a little, the taste of him is salty and clean on your tongue.

“Fuck, yeah, thassit baby… nice and easy. Don’t rush. Savor it." He breathes.

He was so gentle but filthy at the same time, his hand petting your hair like you were the sweetest thing while he fed you his cock in tiny increments.

He’d never had anyone suck his cock so gently before, he fucking hated when women just dropped to their knees and deep-throated from the first damn second. The best part of this was getting to mold you to his pleasing, to teach you how he liked it, so you’d only ever do it his way.

“Use that hand, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Stroke what you can’t fit. That’s it. Just like that.”

Once again, you obeyed him, your hand working in rhythm with your mouth, hollowing your cheeks just like he told you.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

“Look at you, makin’ Daddy feel so good.”

“Such a sweet mouth on you… you were made for this, weren’t you?”

His hips started moving just a little, it was insane how much just seeing you, his cock stuffed deep in your mouth, was driving him wild. But the way it felt, the warmth and softness wrapped around him? That was a million times better.

“Tell me if it’s too much, baby. Don’t wanna hurt that pretty mouth.”

You shook your head, taking more of him in, loving the way he gasped, the way his thighs tensed under your hands, he was slowly but surely unraveling, you could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand gripped yours tighter where you stroked him.

“Try takin’ a little more,” he murmurs. “Only if it feels okay.”

You inch down, slow and careful, taking more of him, your lips stretch, your tongue pressed under the weight of him, and you hummed around him when he filled your mouth a little deeper.

“Nghhh yeah, move just like that,” he pants. “Use your hand with your mouth and keep it slick. Little twist when you stroke. Fuck, you’re a fast learner, baby..”

You’re dripping now, feeling the ache between your legs just from how wrecked he sounds, yet you go slow, listening to every sound he makes, the low curses, the clipped gasps, the murmured praise.

“Look at me,” he rasps.

You glance up with your mouth full of his cock, lips swollen, eyes wide, the look you give him makes Joel groans like it’s physically painful.

“Sweetheart, you look so fuckin’ pretty like that.”

You moan softly around him, and his hips twitch, he gasps and pulls back slightly.

“Shit—baby—hang on—”

You blink, lips shiny, confused, if it felt so good, why was he asking you to stop? Were you doing something wrong?

“I’m—close,” he says. “Real close. You probably don’t wanna—”

Silly Joel thought you wouldn't want his cum filling your mouth? You were gonna prove him wrong now, you were gonna get your mouth full of it. You lean forward again, and you take him back in, without stopping.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice rough and ragged. “You really gonna let me cum on that sweet lil’ face, darlin’?”

You moaned around him, and that was all it took.

“Fuck—oh fuck, baby girl,” he groaned, hips jerking. “Take it, take it, take all that cum for me—”

He spilled hot and thick into your mouth and onto your tongue, groaning like he hadn’t cum that hard in years. You swallowed instinctively, messy and clumsy, and some of it still dripped onto your chin. It felt thick and sticky down your throat, a little salty, unlike anything you’d ever tasted before, but it was Joel’s seed, and that made it feel… special.

He watches you swallow it, stunned, his whole body shudders through the last few spurts and you stroke him gently through it, hand slick, mouth soft.

Joel pulled you back gently, cupping your cheeks as he caught his breath. “Jesus Christ, baby…” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth, tasting himself on your lips. “You’re somethin’ else.”

You looked up at him, breathless, dazed, and buzzing. “Did I do okay, daddy?”

Joel laughed softly, wiping his thumb across your lip where some of his cum had landed.

“You did fuckin’ perfect, baby. I’m so proud of you. That mouth, Jesus, you just about ended me.”

You curl into his chest, flushed, heart pounding, and he cradles you like you’re breakable.

“You okay, baby girl?”

I nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah… m’good.”

He smiled. “Yeah? That sweet mouth tired now?”

A giggle slipped out of your lips. “Not really…”

He chuckled low, but something about the way he looked at you changed then, his eyes were still hungry. “You want me to treat that pussy real nice too, baby? I bet she's achin’.”

“I…” you hesitated, chewing on your lip.

Joel tilted his head. “What is it?”

You looked down, then back up at him through your lashes. “I wanna try somethin’. But you gotta promise to be careful.”

Joel immediately froze. “Talk to me.”

You felt your heart pounding. “I just… I wanna try the tip,” you whispered. “Just that, but not all the way.”

His jaw clenched. “Baby…”

“Pleeeease?” You said, hand on his chest. “I trust you. I wanna know what it feels like, just the tip.”

Joel stared at you like he was trying to memorize you, like he was weighing the pleasure against his fear of hurting you. He was still hard again, painfully so, and he was dying to know what being inside you felt like, but he was still a gentleman afraid to hurt his sweet little girl.

“You’re still a virgin,” he said softly. “That’s not nothin’. I ain’t gonna take that from you unless you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you said. “As long as you go slow, I want to feel you, please Joooeel.”

He muttered a curse under his breath, low and southern and filthy. Fuck, what the hell were you even doing to him? He was a grown-ass man, and here he was getting all worked up over just getting his tip wet, like he was some desperate teenager all over again in the back of a car at the drive-in, ready to lose it from a single stroke.

“Fuck, baby girl… you say it like that, I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Joel kissed you hard, then he stood and scooped you up in his arms like you were made out of feathers, carrying you to his bedroom, the one you've been before a couple of times, with the old quilt and the creaky floorboards. He laid you gently on the bed like you were made of glass.

“You tell me if you want to stop,” he said, voice tight. “I mean it. I’ll pull out in a second. Ain’t nothin’ we gotta rush.”

“I know,” You whispered, reaching up to touch his face. “I want this.”

Joel undressed you slow, kissing every inch of skin as he bared it, your nipples were already hard when he pulled your shirt up, making him groan as soon as he saw them.

“Look at these pretty tits,” he murmured, sucking one into his mouth. “Still can’t believe these are all mine.”

You arched under him, gasping, thighs clenching as he trailed kisses down to the hem of your shorts, and when he peeled them off, he found you soaked, so soaked through your panties, making the cotton stick to your folds.

“God damn,” Joel muttered, pressing his thumb against the wet spot. “This all for me, sweetheart?”

You whimpered. “Yes…”

He quickly tugged the panties off slow, baring your aching, needy pussy, then knelt between your legs, staring at you like he wanted to devour you.

“You’re drippin’, baby,” he said, thumbing through the slickness between your pussy lips. “She’s beggin’ for me.”

He made you whimper when he pressed two fingers to your entrance, not pushing in, just teasing you.

“You’re so tight,” he murmured, sucking in a breath. “You sure you want me to put this cock in you, baby girl? Even just the tip?”

You nodded desperately. “Please, Joel. I need it.”

He groaned. “Fuck. Okay. Get up on the pillows for me, yeah? Gotta be real careful with you.”

You did as he said, like every single time, obeying like a good girl, lying back and spreading your legs open for him. He stroke his thick cock, now fully hard again, the head swollen and leaking precum. Joel lined himself up to your entrance, brushing the tip through your folds, making you jolt in anticipation.

“Gotta open up for me, baby,” he murmured, voice condescending and sweet. “Let daddy in just a lil’. That’s what you wanted, huh? Just the tip?”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed. “Just the tip.”

Joel pressed the head of his cock against your entrance and pushed in slowly, stretching your cunt wide with just that first inch, your breath caught at the invation, it burned, but it also made you clench, hips twitching as your body tried to pull him in deeper, as it tried to accomodate him inside you.

Joel cursed everything and everyone, just the fucking tip inside you and it was already better than every goddamn woman he’d ever fucked. Tighter. Hotter. Wetter. Like his cock had finally found where it belonged, like it had spent his whole damn life searching and now it found his home, nothing had ever felt like this, no one had ever felt like you.

“Fuuuck,” Joel groaned. “You feel that? That’s just the tip, baby girl. Just this fat head stretchin’ that virgin pussy. You takin’ it like a good girl.”

You moaned, thighs shaking. “Joel…”

“You like that?” he asked, leaning over you, still holding himself back. “You like bein’ stretched open like this?”

You nodded frantically, tears pricking your eyes, it hurted, yes, but it felt delicious like nothing you've experienced before in your life.

“Yeah, you do,” he cooed. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight, baby. You’re so fuckin’ small… and I ain’t even in yet.”

He pulled out just a little, then pressed back in with just the tip again. “Look at that,” he murmured. “Pussy so greedy, she don’t want me to leave.”

You gasped, arching your back. “It feels… so full…”

“This ain’t full, baby,” Joel growled. “This is just a taste. You let me in any deeper and I’ll ruin you.”

You whimpered. “I want it.”

“You want what?”

“I want you to ruin me.”

Joel growled low in his throat, dropping his head to rest against yours, hips moving just enough to slide that swollen tip in and out of you, teasing your entrance, fucking you with just the head, over and over.

“God, you don’t even know what you’re sayin’, baby. You ain’t ready for the whole thing yet. I’ll split you open.”

“I don’t care,” You whispered, gripping his shoulders. “I want it all.”

Joel groaned like he was in pain, pulling out again to rub his cock through your slick folds, smearing his precum and your wetness together, nudging against your clit until you writhed. You had no right to look so fucking pure while moaning for him to split you open, begging for more cock.

“Not tonight, baby,” he said, kissing you hard. “But soon I’m gonna take this pussy for real. Gonna fuck you so full you’ll be ruined for anyone else. You hear me?”

“I need more,” You moaned. “Pleeease, Jooeeel.”

“You ain’t ready for more,” he growled, but there was no edge in his voice, just hunger. “You think you can take all this cock? I’m a grown fuckin’ man, baby, not some boy.”

Joel rubbed the tip against your entrance again and slid it in once more, slowly, deeply, groaning like it was killing him to hold back, like he was fighting his whole body not to shove deeper. And you were so wet, so full already, you couldn’t stop squirming under him, clenching around the small stretch he gave you, chasing more with every desperate roll of your hips.

“Easy, baby,” he grunted, voice rough. “You’re squeezin’ me like a goddamn vice. You keep doin’ that and I’m gonna blow already.”

His hands gripped your hips like he was holding you still for dear life, his forehead dropped to yours, breath warm and ragged against your skin, and he just stayed there, buried with just the tip inside, grounding his hips against you, just enough to make you cry out, over and over.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby girl,” he whispered in my ear. “Makin’ daddy proud.”

He rolled his hips and ground the tip in deeper, just a shallow push that was barely an inch, but it was enough to make your back arch and your thighs tremble.

“F—fuck,” you gasped, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“That feel good, sweet girl?” Joel cooed, baby-talking you again. “That lil’ virgin pussy likin’ how daddy’s tip feels stretchin’ her out?”

I nodded frantically. “Feels so good, daddy. Don’t stop, please—please don’t stop—”

“Oh, baby, I ain’t stoppin’,” he said, grinding his hips in slow, tiny circles, keeping that swollen head inside you while the rest of his length throbbed against your soaked folds. “Gonna fuck you like this, gonna make you cum on it. Gonna teach your pussy who she belongs to.”

“Y-yeah,” you breathed. “So big… and you’re not even all the way in…”

“Damn right I’m not,” he said. “You’re too fuckin’ tight, baby. You’ll take me when I say so, not before.”

Part of him was fucking feral over the fact that it was the first cock you’d ever taken, and the only one, he’d make damn sure of that. Seeing you cry from just one fucking inch? One single inch stretching that tight little pussy open for the first time? Christ, Joel would get this moment tattooed onto his chest if he could, nothing had ever made him feel more like a man.

His hands left your hips and slid down, thick fingers slipping between your bodies, parting your folds and rubbing soft and tight circles against your clit as he stayed buried in you just that inch.

“Joel—oh my God—!”

“You gonna cum for me?” he murmured. “Gonna let daddy make this sweet little cunt cum for the first time with a cock in her?”

You nodded wildly, you were so close, your whole body tense and trembling, thighs shaking around his waist.

“Look at you,” Joel groaned. “You don’t even need me all the way inside, do you? You just need this big tip grindin’ right into that little hole…”

He gave a shallow thrust, just a nudge forward, barely anything, but it hit something that has never been touched before, and you cried out in pleasure.

“Oh my God—Joel!”

“That’s it,” he rasped, fingers working faster against your clit. “Let it happen, baby girl. Let that tight little pussy cum for me. So fuckin’ good—my good girl—”

You came with a sob, back arching off the bed, thighs clamping down around his hips as you clenched and fluttered around the tip of his cock. Your whole body went tight and then loose all at once, like you'd been holding your breath since the moment he touched you, or like you've been holding your breath your entire life before this moment.

Joel growled like an animal, hips twitching once, twice, and then he cursed, his voice breaking. “Fuck—baby girl—fuck, I’m gonna—”

He spilled inside you, hot and sudden, still buried with just the tip. He didn’t move, didn’t thrust, just stayed there, pressed against you as thick pulses of his release coated your walls, leaking out around the base of his cock, making you both gasp through it, panting, foreheads pressed together, bodies still intertwined.

You both stayed like that for a long moment, his tip twitching inside you, your cunt still fluttering around him, warm and full and messy between your legs.

Joel kissed you softly. “You okay, baby?” he whispered. “Talk to me.”

You nodded, dazed. “Yeah… yeah. That was… that was…”

He smiled. “Yeah. That’s what just the tip feels like.”

You laughed breathlessly, still flushed and trembling. “So what’s the rest of it like?”

Joel’s smirk turned dark. “Oh, sweetheart. You ain’t ready for that answer yet.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it!! I’m planning a little series of one-shots with Joel teaching the reader different things, so lmk if you’d be interested in that. As always, your support means the world to me🩷🫶🏻

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics