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sweetiecakesss · 17 days

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Black Russian | Boothill (18+)

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Synopsis: What better way to pass the time on a slow business day than having sex in the bathroom with the universe's known criminal, Boothill.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Tags: Boothill, Saloon Owner! Reader, Boothill has a cock, Blowjob, Bathroom Sex, Boothill's synthesia beacon isn't broken in this fic, No P n V just P n M, Gunplay.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Note: Brainrot about Saloon Owner! Reader x Outlaw! Boothill and am creaming my pants---

The business was slow and quiet as you stood behind the counter with a neutral expression on your face, looking around the people that was seated on their respective seats. Some were already drunk to boot while other were still booming with energy as they watched the television as they chug their beers.

"Hey boss," Turning your head to face where the voice came, you raised your brows. "Am gonna get going now, can't let my woman wait." Orion, you're employee let out. You gave him a nod and a smile.

"Tell the misses I said hi." You let out to which Orion nodded, tipping his hat before he left the saloon, leaving you and the other drunkards in your establishment.

Everything was silent, until you heard the familiar ding of the bell by the door. A man---No, A Robot man entering your saloon. White and black hair flowing behind him, his hat covering his features, and with each stem you can hear metal clanking. You kept your eyes on him as he then made his way to the counter, sitting in front of you as he then removed his cowboy hat. Placing it on top of the counter.

As soon as he removed his hat, your eyes squinted at him as you moved your gaze to your left. Eyeing the wanted poster with the man's picture, a smirk creeping its way to your features as you just looked at him.

"A glass of Black Russian for me, sweetcheeks." The man let out, you looked at him as you moved to grab a small alcohol glass, placing it on the counter infront of him as you started pouring and mixing the drink in front of him.

"You got nice taste." You complimented as he took the well mixed drink and taking a sip before he looked at you and chuckling.

"I like em' strong," He let out, pausing as he took another sip. "The name's Boothill. And you are?"

You looked at him with an amused smile as you cleaned the things you needed to make his drink.

"I don't think telling a wanted man my name is a safe move…" You let out, Boothill looked at you surprised and amused as he let out a raspy chuckle as he placed his glass down on the counter, placing his arms on top of it as he leaned forward, tilting his head to the left.

"Don't be like that, Sweetheart. I ain't gonna bite…" He let out as his eyes roamed your features, scanning you from head and downwards before looking back up to meet your gaze. "Anyways, you've got my name already so why donn'cha tell me yours. Unless you want me to call you sweetheart for the rest of my stay here."

You looked at him amused. "It's Y/N." You let out.

He whistled. "Beautiful name. Suits ya'." He let out as he went ahead to take a sip of his drink once more before finally chugging it down and finishing his drink.

"So. Why is a pretty lil' thing like you work in a saloon?" He asked, his attention on yours as he looked at you with his sharp gaze. You looked at him as you raised your brows.

"If calling me pretty and endearments is your way to get free drinks outta me, I'd rather you not. Shit doesn't work on me." You let out. "And I own this saloon." You added to which Boothill let out another low whistle.

"Strong and Independent, yer just my type…How about that?" He let out as he gave you a smirk.

"I ain't interested." You replied, quickly dismissing his further advancements on you to which he just chuckled in response.

“Oh, c’mon.. You’re not gonna give me a single chance?” He then look around, looking around the place as he then lowered his tone of voice. “C’mon, darlin’. I haven’t had a pretty woman on my arm in ages. Least.. least not one that wasn’t tryin’ to shoot me or put me behind bars.”

You looked at him as you then placed the cloth over your shoulders, leaning forward; You placed your arms on the counter as you then tilted your head to the side.

"If you're looking for a prostitute, I ain't interested." you let out with a smirk. "You're a charming fellow but I ain't an easy one to grab, try your luck in a stripper club instead" you added. A low grunt escaped Boothill's lips as he cocked his eyebrow at you.

"I wasn't lookin' to buy yer services." He retorted as he chuckled. "Not yet, anyways."

"I just told you, I ain't a stripper." You let out as you stood back and crossed your arms over your chest, your brows furrowing at him. Boothill let out a raspy laugh as he ran his cold metallic fingers on his hair while looking at you.

"A Strong, Independent, Funny, and Pretty girl? Hah. How are you even Single…" He let out as he gave you a charming smirk. You looked at him intently as you then grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring it onto his empty glass.

"Men tell me I'm insane that's why." You replied as you then grabbed the glass with vodka, chugging the drink down with one swift move before placing it down on the counter. A lipstick stain evident on the glass.

Boothill looked at the glass, eyeing the lipstick stain before he then grabbed the glass, holding it from the bottom as he then gave the mark you left on his glass a small kiss while his eyes remained on you. Making sure your eyes never left him for just even a second.

You stared at him in amusement as you then looked around, the quiet saloon still oh so quiet. Looking back at him, you dropped the things you were holding.

"It's a slow day…" You let out in a hum. "Meet me in the bathroom after a few…" You let out with a smirk before walking away and out the counter, your footsteps growing faint as you entered the bathroom.

Boothill made sure to eye you as entered the bathroom, looking away he chuckled to himself as he then moved and grabbed his hat before looking around and following pursuit, entering the bathroom.

You stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, across from him with your back against the wall. Boothill then closed the door behind him before locking it as he approached you, his cold hands holding onto your waist as he pulled you close to him.

"Mind telling me why you invited me in the bathroom?" He let out, humming as he moved his free hand up your body before holding onto your chin and making you look at him. Your gaze was on him as you then grabbed his wrist, opening your mouth you then pushed his fingers inside your mouth, lightly bobbing your head as you make eye contact with him.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" You let out murmured as you then let go of his fingers, your small hands placed on his chest as you gently guided him back until his back was finally against the door.

Your touch was enough to make Boothill shiver, his hands letting go of your waist as he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes meeting yours as he then moved his hand and placing them behind your head, intertwining his fingers with your hair before he then pulled you in a for a kiss.

You let out a hum of satisfaction as your lips finally clashed with his, your hands that was once on his chest, moved up as you grabbed tightly onto his collar. Gripping onto his clothes tightly as you chased his lips, the kiss deepening and messy as you made sure to not let him go. Your free hand moving down until it was now on his waist, holding onto him.

Boothill gasped with delight over the way you both kissed. It was rough and intense, both bodies pressed onto each other as he then let out a groan, his hand that was holding onto your hair moved and gripped onto it tightly, eliciting a moan escaping your mouth, making Boothill have access to more of you as he used his tongue, wrestling with yours.

"Gods…you taste so fucking sweet…" He murmured in between the kiss as he continued to chase the high that the two of you were feeling. You then let out a chuckle in between the kiss.

"I'm addicting…I know…" You slurred a reply as you slowly walked back, letting Boothill pushed his body onto you as he then pushed you against the sink. His hand then let's go of your hair before he grabbed onto the back of your thighs, holding onto you before he lifted you up and placed you on top of the counter.

Cold metallic hands holding tightly onto your thighs as you wrapped your legs around Boothill, his hips thrusting forward to feel the warmth in between your legs. Your pussy throbbing as he proceeded to grind his growing bulge onto you.

As the kiss went on, Boothill was too distracted at the feeling of kissing you and the wetness that was gradually forming in between your legs that he didn't notice the lightness of the gun holster on his waist. Briefly pulling away, both you and Boothill looked at each other in a daze before you gave him a smirk as you raised your hand and pointed the gun muzzle under his chin, making him tilt his head up and to the side as he looked at you surprised and a smirk.

"YOu fucking minx…" He let out as he then raised both his hands in the air.

"Must say, for someone who only seems like to be ninety percent human…You're packing.." You let as your free hand moved to cup the aching bulge in his pants as you made sure to look at him.

Boothill let out a grunt as he jolted his hips forward, chasing your touch.

"I was lucky to have them saved my dick, to be honest…" He let out in between groans, his words getting caught in his throat as you continued to palm him through his pants. You let out a chukle.

"Now what? You gonna' shoot me, Doll?" He let out a question while he kept his gaze on you. You let out a hum.

"I was gonna shoot your brains out but since this little fellow is being so charming…" You let out, pausing briefly as you unwrapped your legs around Boothill, your hand letting go of his crotch as you created a gap between you and him as you then stood on your own feet, guiding him against the wall as you then returned the gun in his holster before kneeling down in front of him. "I thought I'd give you a treat…" You added.

Boothill looked down at you with widened eyes as you skillfully unbuckled his pants, pulling it down and revealing his Cock. Despite being a robot, his cock stood lively as you stared at it. Pale in color with a slightly darkened tip.

Looking up at him, you gave his tip a small kiss before opening your mouth wide, taking the head in your mouth before pulling out again with a pop. Boothill groaned as he looked down at you, his hands reaching to hold onto your shoulders as he tried to push you away from his aching and throbbing cock.

"YOu don't want it?" You asked with a feign pout as your hands wrapped around his shaft, slowly moving it up and down as you gave his tip small pecks down to his shaft before finally reaching his hips.

"N-no…It's just that--Fuck…" Boothill let out as he looked at you, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he threw his head back, feeling your lips all over him.

You gave him a smirk as you then bit down on the flesh of his hip, leaving a mark before moving back and slapping his hardened cock on your face while still giving it kisses, giving it the love it deserves.

"Y/N…" Boothill moaned your name as he looked back down. "Jesus fucking christ just suck my cock already…" He groaned impatiently as his other hand moved to grab the back of your head and pulling onto your hair. As he pulled onto your hair, you can't help but let out a whimper as you looked up at him with a smirk.

"Impatient asshole…"You cussed at him as you tightened the grip around his cock, making boothill nearly fall onto the floor as leaned forward, cock throbbing in your hand as he let out shaky breaths of whimper.

Boothill stood up straight again as he glared at you, before he could even say something you just looked at him in amusement before swallowing in his cock, pushing him deep inside your throat. Boothill bit his lip to supress his groans, his entire body shaking from the pleasure.

All he could hear was gagging noises you made before you were pulling away from his cock, coughing as soon as you pulled away. Boothill looked back at you, his cock throbbing even more as he saw your mascara stained cheeks. A mix of his pre and your saliva dirpping down your chin.

"Fuck, so pretty…" He let out as he used his free hand to hold onto your neck, pulling you in for a soft kiss before letting go of you. You hummed as you let out a giggle before taking in his cock in your mouth one more time.

"Yeah, take me like that…" Boothill groaned as you bobbed your head, your moans adding an extra pleasure to him as the vibrations added a sensation of pleasure. His hands guiding you to move faster and deeper on him.

The bathroom was filled with Boothill's groans and grunts along with the sound of you gagging and slobbering all over his cock, at this point you were sure that whoever attempted to use the bathroom could hear what was going on inside.

"Wait--fuck, sweetheart…'m boutta cum…" Boothill let out in between grunts, you could only look up at him through your lashes as you continued to bob your head, your hand going to grip onto his balls, massaging them.

With one final bob of your head, Boothill pressed you down onto him, making you gag around his cock as he spilled all his cum down your throat. Pulling away, Boothill looked down at you.

"Jesus fuck…You look prettier this way, Doll…" He let out. You looked up at him as you stood up and swallowed his cum all while looking at him.

"You should cut down the Alocohol." You let out as you then headed towards the sink, turning on the faucet as you washed your make up and cum stained face. Boothill let out a chuckle as he then headed your way but before he could even hold you a loud knock resonated within the bathroom, grabbing both of your attention.

"Are you both done there!? I need to fucking pee!" A drunk man slurred from the otherside of the door. Turning off the faucet, you headed your way to the door. Opening it.

"Go pee somewhere else, This bathroom's out of order." You let out, staring down the man before slamming the door to his face, locking it as you turned to face Boothill.

Turning around, you started to unbuckle your belt as you then pushed your pants down. You then placed both your hands on the door, bending forward and exposing your dripping cunt to Boothill.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna fuck me senseless?"

#mao {navigation}#honkai star rail #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr #boothill x reader #boothill #boothill smut #boothill x reader smut

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sunkissed-zegras · 1 month

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𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓 (𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓) 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 "𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄" ─ LH⁴³

౨ৎ ─ summary | requested ! -> i kind of have a specific request 🫣 im an ohio state fan so it also kinda pains me that i love luke hughes since i hate umich 😭 my request is reader being an osu student and long term devils fan, so when she goes to a devils game in columbus her friends dare her to make a sign for luke during warm ups that says something along the lines of “can i trade you a hat for a puck?” so when luke gives her a puck, she throws him an ohio state hat w her phone number on it. and he finds it really funny and actually ends up messaging her (and then you can end it how you want. fluff, smut, wtv) thank you <33

─ word count | 2.8k

─ warnings | so so so fluffy it might kill you, luke being a cutie pie, meet-cute situation, ohio state (bleh), slight angst, luke being self-conscious and overly self-critical, hurt to comfort, the devils vs rangers game (😭😭😭), nothin' else!

─ taglist | @dancerbailey @maryleclerc @valluvsu @bowen-power @bunting58 @daisysnhl @daisysthings @hearts-4-luke @iminlovewithtz11 @jackhughesily @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvelyzoe @ru-kru

─ ev's notes | luke hughes fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! guess who's outta their writing slump??? this guyyyyy!!!! so yeah, here is a cute little sweet luke fic because my best friend has been into him and this request has been sitting in my inbox, so!! yeah, enjoy, i love you guys mwah mwah mwah

"HE'S PROBABLY NOT EVEN GONNA SEE THE SIGN," you laughed as your best friend took in the sign you'd made. She nodded in a approval, a knowing smirk on her lips.

"Who cares? It's just for fun. You know, YOLO," she replied, giving you a playful nudge. "Plus, imagine the look on his face if he does see it."

You couldn't help but chuckle nervously, adjusting the sign in your hands. It read, "Can I trade you a hat for a puck, #43?" in bold, black letters against a vibrant red background. You were loved DIY projects so this was just as fun for you as it was for your friends.

"Maybe he'll finally follow you back on Instagram," your best friend added with an amused tone as you rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks get red. She'd known of your long time crush on the youngest Hughes brother, and she was having the time of her life teasing you about it. "Who knows, maybe it'll be a start of a love story."

You laughed nervously at your friend's teasing, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your cheeks. "Oh please, it's just a bit of fun," you replied, trying to play off your crush on Luke as nothing more than innocent admiration.

But deep down, the idea of catching Luke's attention in any way made your heart flutter.

Entering the Nationwide Arena, the energy of the crowd enveloped you, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline. As the players hit the ice for warm-ups, you scanned the rink eagerly, trying to catch a glimpse of Luke. With your homemade sign clutched tightly in your hand, you made your way to the glass, positioning yourself so that Luke could see you.

Then, there he was, Luke Hughes, effortlessly weaving between his teammates with grace. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he neared your section of the glass, your breath catching in your throat. You'd only seen him one other time and that was at a Michigan game - however, because it didn't end very well, you decided it was best not to go get a picture with him.

He looked more put together this time, his curls pouring out of his helmet in a way that made your heart jump. You could feel your best friend's amused gaze on the side of your face, you rolled your eyes as she let out a teasing laugh.

"Oh, shut up."

"Hold up your sign higher, Y/N." She urged, nudging you playfully. You did as she said, holding the sign as high as you could.

To your surprise, Luke's gaze flickered towards you, a smirk playing on his lips as he skated closer. He pointed at your sign, giving you a nod of approval before flipping a puck over the glass in your direction.

"Oh my fucking god," your friend mumbled as she caught the puck. You couldn't believe it. Your heart was pounding with excitement as your friend caught the puck that Luke had sent flying your way.

With trembling hands, you fumbled in your bag for the Ohio State hat you had brought along, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You're actually gonna give him the hat?" Your friend laughed as she glanced back at Luke, an amused expression on his face as he waited for you to throw him the hat.

As you lifted up the hat from your bag, Luke let out an amused chuckle as he caught sight of it, his eyes widening with surprise. With a nervous laugh, you nodded, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks.

"Yeah, why not?" you replied, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of butterflies in your stomach. You glanced in between Luke and your friend, feeling a surge of confidence as you smiled.

Quickly scribbling your phone number on a scrap of paper, you tucked it inside the hat before tossing it over the glass towards Luke. Gripping on the red hat, you tossed it over the glass towards him. He caught it with ease, giving you an impressed smirk.

You mimicked holding a phone to your ear, gesturing towards Luke with a playful smile before mouthing the words 'call me' as your best friend erupted in laughter, her face turning red. Luke couldn't help but join in on the laughter as he shook his head, skating off with the hat in his hands.

──

"I still can't believe you did that," your best friend giggled as she drove home. To no one surprise, the devils had won and you were over the moon.

You couldn't help but giggle along with her, the adrenaline from the encounter still coursing through your veins. "I can't believe it either," you admitted, your smile widening as you replayed the moment in your mind.

As you finally arrived back at your dorm, you couldn't wipe the grin from your face, the memory of Luke's amused reaction playing on a loop in your mind. You got ready for bed and snuggled into the bed but no matter how hard you tried to sleep, you just couldn't.

So, you pulled out your phone and went on TikTok, scrolling endlessly. You knew you'd regret it in the morning but sleeping didn't seem too appealing, especially after the night you'd had.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed and you glanced up to read the message. Your heart skipped a beat once you'd glanced at it. It was an unknown number, with an unfamiliar area code.

You clicked on the number and searched the area code and it was Michigan. You didn't know anyone from Michigan, so who the hell could it─

Oh.

It suddenly clicked, your eyes widening in disbelief. As you stared at the screen, a rush of excitement flooded through you. Could it be? Your mind raced with possibilities as you hesitated for a moment before tapping on the message.

unknown so you're still an ohio fan after we beat ur ass ?

you who's this?

unknown how many hats did you give away tonight? 🥲

you luke???? hughes????

unknown good so im the only one, i hope 🥰

You let out scoff, in utter disbelief. Before responding furthur, you screenshotted the conversation and sent it to your best friend. There was no fucking way that Luke Hughes had messaged you.

──

A few weeks passed and you'd been talking to Luke almost everyday. And that wasn't an exaggeration, after every conversation that died, Luke began another one. You'd even gone as far as FaceTiming him, it seemed surreal for the first couple weeks but it had since become normal.

"How was your test?" Luke spoke, his voice muffled as he chewed on his protein bar. You put your phone down on the desk as you shrugged, sighing. "Wow, that bad?"

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying through the phone as you leaned back in your chair. "Yeah, pretty much," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "But hey, at least it's over now. I can finally breathe a sigh of relief."

Luke's laughter echoed through the speaker, and you couldn't help but smile at the sound. Despite the miles between you, his presence felt comforting and familiar, a constant in your otherwise chaotic life.

"Who needs Calc? I mean, it's useless." Luke added as he took another bite of his protein bar. Before you could respond, someone in Luke's background began talking. "Yeah, yeah. I'll clean it after I get off the phone."

Your lips curved into an amused smile as you heard the voice retort, watching Luke's expression became annoyed. "I'm on the phone, Jack. Give me two seconds-"

The next thing you see is Luke's screen being shaking and a few voices arguing before Jack took his phone, coming on to the screen."Y/N, tell Luke to wash his dirty ass dishes."

"Luke, listen to your big brother." You respond teasingly, causing Jack to smirk at his younger brother.

Luke rolled his eyes but you could see a hint of amusement dancing in them. "Come on, Y/N, you're supposed to be on my side," he joked, though there was a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckled at the playful banter between the brothers, feeling a sense of amusement. "Sorry, Luke, but I have to agree with Jack on this one. Clean those dishes, it's disgusting."

Jack grinned, giving you a thumbs-up before disappearing off-screen. Luke let out an exaggerated sigh, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Fine, fine," he relented, rolling his eyes theatrically. "But only because you said so, Y/N."

"Good."

"See! You only listen to Y/N!" Jack shouted as Luke's face flushed, glaring at his brother off-screen before he disappeared into the home.

"Looks like I have some influence around here," you teased, flashing Luke a playful grin.

Luke shook his head, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "I swear, he's impossible sometimes," he muttered, though there was a fondness in his voice that betrayed his annoyance.

"It's okay. That's just how all siblings are," you cleaned on to the desk as you watched Luke through the screen.

There was a short silence as Luke gazed back at you through the screen, his lips curving into a smile. "Hey, so uh... we have a game later this week."

"Yeah, I know. Against the Rangers."

Luke ran his hands through his curls, his expression a little anxious before he continued. "And don't you have spring break?"

You put two and two together, a small smile playing on your lips as you nodded.

"Well, uh... I was thinking, maybe you could come to the game?" Luke's words came out in a rush, his cheeks flushing slightly as he awaited your response. "So we can finally hang out in person."

Your heart skipped a beat at his invitation, the idea of finally hanging out with Luke in person sending a thrill through you. "I'd love to," you replied eagerly, unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

Luke's smile widened at your enthusiastic response, relief evident in his eyes. "Great! I'll make sure you have the best seats in the house."

"Good, I wanna be watching when you beat the Ranger's asses." You joked as he smiled.

"Oh and, you have one of my jerseys. Right?"

You let out a laugh as you rolled your eyes. "Yeah, of course I do,"

Luke chuckled, a hint of pride evident in his expression. "Good, because I was thinking you could wear it to the game. Show some support for your favorite player," he teased.

"Who said you were my favorite player-"

"Hey, I was the one you gave your number to." Luke teased as you rolled your eyes.

"Okay fine," you admitted with a smirk.

Luke flashed you a satisfied smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "So, you'll wear the jersey then?"

You nodded, unable to resist his infectious enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'll wear it. But only because you asked so nicely."

Luke's grin widened, a sense of satisfaction evident in his gaze. "Okay, great. Maybe I'll even sign it for you?"

"Oh, shut up." You rolled your eyes as Luke let out a very amused laugh. "Show-off."

──

Luke didn't have a lot of time before the game so he only waved at you during warmups, but you weren't mad about it. With a smile on your face, you waved back at Luke, sending him a silent message of support and encouragement.

You understood the importance of the game and knew that Luke needed to be on his A-game tonight. However, Luke did keep his promise of giving you the best seats in the house ─ you felt as though you were really on the ice, with the players.

You stood in the stands, watching as Luke and the rest of the team warmed up on the ice. As the puck dropped and the game began, you cheered loudly, your heart filled with pride for your favorite player.

The Rangers came out strong, controlling the puck and applying pressure on the Devils' defense early on. Despite their best efforts, the Devils struggled to gain momentum, facing relentless attacks from their opponents.

In the end, it was a hard-fought battle, but the Rangers had won. You weren't disappointed, no. But you knew how hard everyone could be on Luke, despite him being a rookie. You were a little conflicted, maybe this wasn't the best game you could've came to.

Luke made his way towards the tunnel, his expression disappointed. You knew this one of the biggest games of the season and knowing Luke, he probably thought it was all his fault.

You knew how much he poured into every game, and it pained you to see him shouldering the weight of the loss. Despite your conflicted feelings about the outcome of the game, your support for Luke never wavered.

You made your way out of the arena, waiting outside the player's exit area. You glanced around, scanning the area for any sign of Luke or the rest of the team. As the minutes passed, you shifted from foot to foot, nerves knotting in your stomach as you waited.

Finally, the door to the player's exit swung open, and you held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. And then, there he was—Luke emerged from the doorway, his expression still clouded with disappointment from the game.

You stepped forward, a sympathetic smile tugging at your lips as you approached him. "Hey, Luke," you called out, your voice soft.

Luke's gaze met yours as he bit the inside of his cheek. "Hey."

You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him and you couldn't help but frown. You looked up at the taller brunette as he sighed.

"I'm sorry that I, uh wasted your time. I should have invited you to a better game." Luke apologized, his voice tinged with self-doubt.

You shook your head, a sympathetic smile touching your lips as you gazed up at him. "Luke, you didn't waste my time," you reassured him, your tone gentle yet firm. "Being here with you, win or lose, means more to me than you'll ever know."

"Yeah but we got our asses handed to us out there. And you had to see that." He shrugged as he sniffled, his gaze averting yours.

You could sense the weight of Luke's disappointment as he spoke, his words heavy with frustration and self-doubt. Gently, you reached out to hold his hand. His touch was tense before he relaxed into your touch.

"Luke, it doesn't matter what the scoreboard says," you said earnestly, your voice soft yet unwavering. "What matters is that you gave it your all out there, and that's something to be proud of."

Luke's eyes stilled, a flicker of vulnerability shining in his expression. "But we lost,"

You squeezed his hand reassuringly, offering him a small, understanding smile. "Win or lose, you're still out there doing what you," you reminded him. "And that's worth more than any score."

He sighed before he finally met your gaze. His expression softened for a moment, as he admired you. He let out a sigh before he pulled you in, embracing you tightly.

You both pulled away, Luke's lips slowly curving into a smile as he gazed at you. He let out a small chuckle before he shook his head. "God, this is depressing. What kind of date is this?"

"A date?" You repeated, chuckling. "Is this your idea of a date?"

Luke's cheeks flushed slightly as he realized what he had said, his embarrassment evident in the way he averted his gaze momentarily. "Uh, I mean..." he stammered, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess I just meant... hanging out with you, you know?"

You couldn't help but smile at his awkwardness, finding his genuine charm endearing. "Well, in that case, it's the best date I've ever been on," you exaggerated with a playful wink.

Luke's smile widened at your response, the warmth in his eyes mirroring the affection you felt for him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you confirmed, reaching out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"Shut up. This is probably the worst one," he chuckled as he shook his head. "Watching as your date's ass get beat isn't exactly... the best."

You couldn't help but laugh at Luke's self-deprecating humor, easing the tension of the moment. "No, I've definitely had worse dates."

"How about I make it up to you?" Luke smiled as he pulled you in closer. You felt your face flush as you laughed.

"Are you asking me on a second date, Luke?" You teased, a playful glint in your eyes as you looked up at him.

Luke's smile widened, his expression earnest as he met your gaze. "I guess I am," he replied, his voice soft. "I owe you one, after all."

"Well, in that case, I'll gladly accept," you said with a grin, leaning into his embrace.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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katiexpunk · 2 months

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Desert Dust | Joel Miller's POV

Summary: The last place Joel Miller expected to find himself at this point in his life was in a small highway town in Arizona, passing the days by. He never really though he needed more -- until he met you.

Warnings: This is Joel's POV from Desert Dust. Yeah, if you thought he was a consent king in the original, this just further proves it. Tommy comes with his own cheeky warning. No age gap mentioned (make it your own), but Joel mentions feeling old. Joel Miller has a bad back (it's canon). Self-deprecation. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy., and like actually kinda wants to kill him for trying to hurt you. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy.

W/C: ~8K

A/N: Thank you for all of the love on Desert Dust. Nobody asked for this, but I couldn't get Joel's POV outta my head, so I hope you enjoy a little deep dive into what Joel was thinking when he first walked into that restaurant. Your honor, they're in love. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? Like me, he's lost the will to live I'm so lonesome I could cry

The timbre of Hank Williams’ voice fills the truck's cab as Joel drives. It’s early, the sky is just beginning to transition from a deep midnight blue to a gradient of warm orange as the sun gradually emerges. While Joel likes to think of himself as a morning person, his back has other opinions on the matter. It’s to be expected, though, that’s what nearly 30 years of hard labor will do to a man.

The warmth of the thermos in between his thighs contrasts with the chilly morning air pouring in through the cracked window. Smoke dances lazily around his broad frame, a burning cigarette clenched between his calloused fingers. He greedily draws long drags, knowing it’ll be hours before he can have another one. He should quit, he knows he should quit. The half-used pack of Nicorette gum that sits in his cupholder in front of him is proof of that.

But like picking at a scab or peeling the skin of a sunburn, sometimes we all do things we know we shouldn’t, things that make us feel good, if only for just a minute or two.

In truth, there isn’t a lot that makes him feel good anymore. Jesus, when did he turn into such a grumpy old man? Probably sometime between Sarah going to college, and Tommy convincing him to take this contract job in the middle of fuck all nowhere.

The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky And as I wonder where you are I'm so lone–

Williams’ voice falls silent as Joel turns off the truck, having pulled into the work site. He snubs out the cigarette into the ashtray in the middle of the dash and grabs his jacket, a clipboard, and safety helmet.

“Another day, another dollar,” he mutters to himself, pulling the handle on the driver's side door. The ground crunches below him, his boots are so dusty he doesn’t think he’ll ever get them clean again. God damn desert dust. He shakes his head and walks to the white trailer in front of him, unsure of why he’s so frustrated in the first place.

“Well aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” Tommy says, responding to the quick snap of the door after Joel enters their makeshift office.

“Don’t,” Joel bites back.

“What’s got your panties in a twist this morning, princess?” Tommy chides, sitting behind a wooden desk covered in blueprints and safety checklists.

“This really the way you want to start the day, Tommy?” Joel says, voice low and even, masking his emotions. “Just, get to work.”

He rounds around to the desk opposite Tommy’s and places everything down. The ripped chair lets out a little puff of air under his weight as he sits.

Tommy, of course, knows what’s eating at Joel. He needs to get fucking laid.

Tommy can’t even remember the last time he saw Joel with a woman it’s been so long. He was always so focused on Sarah, or growing the company, that he always put himself last. He’s tried to set Joel up on dates, but he always declines, citing he’s too busy or maybe next month.

And while Tommy doesn’t say anything, it’s as if Joel can practically hear his thoughts.

“Would you stop thinking so damn loud,” Joel mutters, and Tommy gives him a knowing smirk. “‘M fine. Worry about how we’re gonna finish this project and less about me,” Joel tells him. They both return their attention to their work.

As Joel works to finish up his administrative tasks before the rest of the crew arrives, he tries to shove down the annoyance he feels that maybe Tommy might be right. Maybe it has been too long, besides, rutting his cock into his fist in the shower every night is starting to get old.

He’s not intentionally trying to avoid meeting someone, it’s just that nobody’s ever really caught his attention, not in any genuine way. He knows he’s attractive, but it might as well be poison to him for the types of women he attracts – it’s all fake tits, tight jeans, and money-hungry cougars just looking for someone to show them a good time.

Just as he starts to think all of the good girls might be gone – he meets you.

++++

God, either this booth is uncomfortable or his back is getting worse. He tries to relieve some of the pressure by hunching over for a second. Nope, that’s worse. He sits up to full height and that’s a little better, for now, at least. He looks at the menu in front of him. He thinks about ordering a burger, but with how busy it is, he’s not confident it would come out in time before his lunch break ends. Besides, he told Tommy he would be back in less than 30.

He didn’t intend to stop, he was just looking for an excuse to clear his head. But when he went to grab his coffee, he realized he had left it on his desk. He’d taken the highway exit to get to the restaurant by chance, hoping he might find a Starbucks or something quick. But nope, as it usually goes in small towns, the only coffee place nearby is where he currently sits.

He notices you coming up to the table out of the corner of his eye and turns his head to look at you.

Shit – you’re beautiful. He thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He watches as your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, a coffee pot in your hand.

"Hi," you say, he notices your voice is soft. "Can I get you something to drink?"

He’s so fucked. You even sound pretty.

Your eyes find him, and he swears he feels something shift, electricity courses through him. You’re the first person to look at him, actually look at him, in years. He tries to keep his face level, not wanting to give away any of what he’s thinking.

His eyes drift down to your chest until he notices the nametag pinned to your shirt. Cute name. It matches your pretty face. He internally chuckles to himself when he notices the coffee stains and what he thinks might be ketchup on your shirt. It makes him smile, mostly because he’s no stranger to wearing food himself, although you’re a waitress, it makes more sense to him that you’d be a little messy, a little dirty. He doesn’t quite have the same excuse.

Distracted, it dawns on him that he’s probably staring. Stop being weird, she doesn’t need some old man gawking at her while she’s just trying to do her job, you fucking creep.

He moves his eyes to the coffee pot in your hand. Right. The whole reason he’s here in the first place.

"Just coffee, darlin'," he says, watching as you pour some into the mug that was already waiting on the table.

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper.

He thinks he might pass out when he sees your smile. So, so fucked.

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.”

He internally grimaces when he realizes he’d let sweetheart slip, hoping it didn’t weird you out. You can take the man out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the man. He tries not to stare as he watches you walk away, but he can’t help himself.

Sitting in silence, he nurses his coffee and tries to ignore the annoying glances that he seems to be getting from, well, everyone. He feels like he might as well have a giant arrow above his head screaming I’m horny for the waitress. He knows he’s looking at you more than he should, but like a moth to a flame, he just can’t seem to look away. He wonders how long you’ve worked here, and what your story might be. He wonders if you’re happy. Why the hell would he be wondering that? He just met you, for fucks sake.

He’s just another customer.

The establishment itself is pretty much what’d you expect for a small-town dive, the smell of grease and hamburgers wafting through the air. The portions are huge, and the coffee is good. There’s just one annoying thing about it, and he quickly learns her name is Tracy.

He only knows this because she’s quick to offer it up, calling him baby and sugar, pestering him like a fly. She’s attentive in a way that’s forced, suffocating in every possible way. He can tell she’s the type of woman who craves the attention of any man who’s willing to give her the time of day, the type of woman that lets her boobs do all the talking. He’s lonely, yes, but he’s not desperate. He wants nothing more than for you to refill his coffee, just so he can hear your voice again, but she makes it near impossible.

More than three cups of deep, but still bone tired, he feels his phone vibrate in his jeans and he knows it’ll be Tommy asking where he’s at. He pulls it out and sure enough. He looks around the restaurant, hoping maybe he might be able to cash out with you, but you’re nowhere to be seen.

He opens his worn leather wallet, the same one he’s had since Sarah gifted it to him all those years ago, only to find a handful of $20s. He drops one on the table and decides it’s not worth it to ask Tracy for change; he could go the rest of his life never talking to her again and be fine with it.

He silently slips out of the restaurant, and his curiosity about you nearly drowns him on the drive back.

But this time when he walks into the trailer, he can’t help the cheesy grin that involuntarily appears on his face.

“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?” Tommy teases, his words slightly muffled from the bite of PB&J in his mouth, the sticky tack of peanut butter glued to the roof of it.

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s no bite behind it.

++++

The days turn into weeks, and he tries to step away from work, he does. Every day he tries to find an excuse to go in and see you, a reasonable time to step away for an hour or so. But it’s hard, project demands are at an all-time high, and the client is up his butt, freaking out they won’t be done in time. He works overtime, arriving earlier than usual and leaving close to midnight nearly every night.

Joel Miller is a lot of things, but above all, he’s a man of his word. He and his brother didn’t build this company by being late or half-assing work. We’ll get it done, he reassures the client. And they will, he’ll make sure of it.

“Joel, get up man,” Tommy says, shaking his shoulder. He jolts awake, his vision a little fuzzy, slightly disoriented.

He must have drifted off during his lunch break and passed out cold on his keyboard. When he finally comes to, he automatically feels a twinge in his lower back. He’ll pay for that little nap later, he can already tell.

“You’ve been working too hard, why don’t you call it a day, go home, and get some sleep? I’ve got it here for the rest of today,” Tommy offers. As much as they fight, there is a mutual understanding there – respect, even love, although they’ll both never admit to that outright.

He starts to protest, but the pain in his back tells him that maybe he’s right. Lord knows he could benefit from a hot shower and a good night's rest, but even those things, things that should be relaxing, don’t offer him any respite. When he’s not thinking about work, he’s thinking about you. Your kind, soft eyes, and warm smile have sunk their teeth into his mind, and no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to shake you.

A rather frustrating fact, considering you’ve probably forgotten all about him. Just another customer, he’s just another customer.

On the drive back home, he realizes he’s not far off from the exit to the restaurant. You’re probably not even working, and he knows he might be risking seeing Tracy again, but fuck it. Before he has time to talk himself out of the decision, he’s pulling into the parking lot.

He’s surprised at how quiet the restaurant is, a lot different from his first visit. He looks at his watch, it’s close to 3 o’clock, and from the state of the place, he can tell the lunch rush likely just finished. He tries to not be obvious about the fact that he’s scanning the place, looking for something, someone. You.

He sees you before you see him. You look – focused. He can tell you’re a little worn out, but fuck if you aren’t still adorable. He flexes his hand open and closed a few times, trying to calm nerves he didn’t even know he had anymore.

He grins a little as you tell him to take a seat wherever you want, as he watches intently as you throw the final pieces of flatware into the bin. He’s kind of impressed with how quickly you cleaned up the mess, how easily you hoist the heavy bus bin onto your hip.

When you finally notice him, he lifts his hand in a silent hello.

You look cute when you’re surprised. He can tell he’s caught you off guard. Like you weren’t expecting him. He notices as you scan his body, taking him in. He wonders if you feel this too, whatever the fuck this is.

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say. The smile and obvious excitement that washes over your face tells him everything he needs to know.

He’s a customer. But what if he was more than that?

Jesus.

No.

He’s just a customer.

He decides that the booth by the window looks decent enough. The booth and his back fight once more, but he eventually gets comfortable. When you greet him again, your smile and soft voice melt into him, making him forget all the stress of the past few weeks. It takes him a second before it dawns on him that he hasn’t responded to you, that he hasn’t said anything. Talk to her, say something…say anything.

“I was, uh hoping you’d be here,” he says, realizing how cringe he probably sounds. Has he always been this bad at flirting?

But before he can recover, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. He watches as you sink back into the depths of the restaurant, leaving him with her. No, come back.

She's quick to bring him a menu, some coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming. He’s being rather curt with her, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s not interested, but the more he seems to ignore her, the stronger she comes on. He’s a thin thread away from telling her to just fuck off, but he doesn’t want to be rude. Besides, he knows you’re busy. He might not get to talk to you this time, but he will – or at least he hopes he will – especially if everything goes according to his plan.

He’s not even sure if what he intends to do can be classified as a plan. Hell, he’s just glad that he even has a spare business card in his wallet.

He scans the dining room for you, and once he spots you, he rises from the booth and intentionally catches your eye. With the worn card in hand, folded between the folds of some cash, he hopes that you understand his message when he nods and tucks it under the coffee cup. Please call. He’s not sure he’s ever been more hopeful for anything, ever.

He swings by the grocery store on his way home, picking up some beer and a frozen pizza, too tired to cook anything real for dinner. He sinks into the cushions of his couch and tries to drown out his hopefulness with the distraction of T.V. But, he’d be lying if he said his heart rate doesn’t quicken with every notification that comes through his phone.

But you don’t call or text.

He thinks that maybe you’re just trying to play it cool, not wanting to come across as too eager.

But as the days go on, still not a peep from you, he tries to shove down the darker thoughts that cross his mind. Maybe he had misinterpreted the signals you were giving him, misread the energy that feels palpable when you’re next to each other. Maybe he’s just out of practice. Not your type.

You don’t want him. Why would you? He’s just some contractor, an old washup. Probably one of dozens of men who spend their nights waiting, wishful and hungry for even just a glance from you. One of the dozens of men who spew hot loads of come onto their bellies alone at night brought to a tipping point thinking about how sweet you might sound chanting their name, how tight your pussy would feel gripped around their cock.

Fuck.

++++

Some weeks later, he’s pulling another late night at the job site. And when the fluorescent lights get to be too much, he decides to call it a night. He can’t quite put a finger on it, but there’s a gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a silent feeling like he should swing by the restaurant – maybe even apologize for coming on too strong or weirding you out. Before he can even rationalize what he’s doing, he’s once again pulling into the parking lot. Except –

Somethings wrong.

There’s only one car in the parking lot, and the neon open sign remains lit, but something feels…off.

He can feel it, like some sort of primal instinct laying dormant in his body has woken up.

It all happens so fast, faster than his mind can register. When he sees you, struggling in the hands of some fucker, he intervenes. He moves fast, doesn’t think twice, just lets his body take over. He pulls the man off of you, adrenaline coursing through his veins, his blood red hot, and his jaw tense.

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” he says, voice low and threatening. Don’t make me go to jail tonight.

He’s not surprised he hits the guy as hard as he does. He barely feels it, the bone-crunching under his fist. He’d probably kill the guy if you weren’t right there, watching his every move. It’s not a fair fight, not really. Joel knows he’s bigger and stronger, and has the unfair advantage of being sober. He can tell he probably broke the guy's nose, and that’s probably punishment enough. He drags the man out of the establishment and tells him to get the fuck out and never come back. He hopes the warning is enough, the message clear that if he tries to touch you again, ever, it’ll end worse. He’ll make sure of that.

He locks the door and turns to face you. You look so – scared. So innocent, shaken, like a baby deer who just saw its mother get hit by a truck. He even thinks for a second that you might be afraid of him, a thought that makes his heart sink. I would never hurt you. He brings both of his hands to the sides of your arms – keeping the touch intentionally light, with a gentle, reassuring grip. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe now.

“You alright?” he asks, watching with concern as you try and put on a brave face. God, he hates to see you cry, hates that anything could ever make you cry. He can tell you’re trying to avoid looking at him, not wanting him to see your vulnerability.

It’s okay. No one is going to hurt you.

He brings his hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. God, you’re perfect.

The hand that meets his is soft until a sharp sting comes to his attention. He watches as you grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Fuck that guy. He wishes he would have given him just a little more, maybe a black eye or two.

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern.

He can tell you’re worried about him, a fact that makes him feel a little fuzzy inside.

"It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he tries to reassure you. And he is. He’s suffered worse, nothing that won’t be better in a day or two, even if it does sting like hell right now.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

He doesn’t want you to have to put up with that right now, especially after everything that just happened.

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal.

Fuck, you’re so sweet. So perfect and sweet. You could ask him for the moon and he’d try to find a way to lasso it down for you.

His heart quickens as you interlace your fingers with his on his left hand and guide him through the restaurant. He even chuckles a little to himself when you tell him to watch his step. You’re being so nice, he can’t be misinterpreting this – there’s no way. But why didn’t you call? The question weighs heavy on his mind.

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. He leans against the desk, quietly observing you, taking in the fact that he’s here, in this tiny office, with you. That you care enough to help him. That he cares enough to protect you.

"Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

His cock twitches a little when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth, he thinks you might be good with your mouth in more ways than one.

"This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care. I can take it, baby. He can tell the way you’re being with him right now might be your nature, to want to take care of those around you. To be what they need.

“‘You can make it up to me later,” he whispers, hoping you’re sensing the intention behind his words. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, he feels the need to know why you didn’t call bubble up to the surface, the question at the tip of his tongue. Oh just ask her.

“Can I ask you something,” he says, looking down at you, not even realizing he’s holding his breath. He exhales when he hears you say mhmm in response.

Rip off the fucking bandaid man.

“Why didn’t you call?”

He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. As you lean in closer to him, you bring with you the soft scent of your shampoo. You smell like honey and the earthy, clove smell of tobacco. You smell divine.

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished. How could anyone not want you?

He watches you intently as you stand before him, grateful that you’re being so honest with him. He wishes so badly you would look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Is she joking?

He floats his hands up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze seemingly fixed on a button on his shirt.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His hand still hurts a little, a dull throb, but he could care less right now. He trails it up over the side of your body until his fingers land under your chin. Sweet girl. He uses his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You look so beautiful right now, so raw and so perfect. The soft plush of your lips draws his attention, and he can’t help but touch them.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things.

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him.

But no.

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” he hears you whisper, knowing full well that his thumb is still on your lower lip. He wants so badly to know what they’d feel like on his.

“Ki–”

Fuck it.

He drops his hand and leans in to crash his lips into yours, and holy shit. He wants you so fucking bad. He’s never wanted anything, or anyone, more.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and his cock hardens when you let out a little whimper. He holds you tighter to his chest, his thick and capable hands admiring the soft curves of your hips. He needs more, needs to taste your skin, needs to know what it feels like on his lips. He dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as he can. More, he needs more.

He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Jesus, you’re so impossibly soft, your skin feels like silk compared to his. He nips at your jaw, and the soft moan escapes your lips makes him feel feral.

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, internally acknowledging how wrecked it comes out.

He trails his hand up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra. Ugh. It’s so much for him, the little moans you keep making for him as he kisses your neck, the way your nipples respond beneath the fabric to his touch.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest, and he means it.

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal.

Fuck. Yes.

His cock is rock hard, so stiff it’s almost painful. He doesn’t even remember the last time he was this hard. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat. More. He needs more.

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs.

“Can I undress you?” he asks. He wants you to know that you’re in control here, that hel’ll only do what you want him to and nothing more. You call the shots.

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, and he works to unbutton your skirt. Fucking buttons. He thinks it’s cute the way you wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. Perfection. You are perfection.

He frowns a little when he notices you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body.

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” he says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He thinks you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at. He’s never really considered himself to be lucky, but he must have done something right to have you right here with him right now.

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Don’t hide, baby.

“No need’ta hide from me,” he tries to reassure you.

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. He smirks at the sound of the deep hum that escapes from your throat, lips still attached to your breast.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. Just getting started with you.

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, doing his best to whisper sweet praises as he does. It feels so good, so natural when you drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls. It’s been so long since he’s been touched like that, the feeling goes straight to his cock. More. More. More.

He can tell you’re a little hesitant, maybe a little lost in your thoughts. He does his best to pull you back to him. On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. You look so beautiful looking down at him, your lips slightly parted, your skin shiny from the sheen of sweat, your obvious arousal evident on your face. He wonders what he must look like to you.

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, hooking his thumbs in the band of them. He wants to hear you say it, to permit him to cross that line.

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away.

Please, he pleads to himself silently.

He presses his nose into your mound and fuck, you smell so good, he can’t help but moan.

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, and it’s true. He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale.

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire. He wants to reassure you.

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. He thinks this might be the most perfect pussy he’s ever seen in his life. Making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, he looks at you to make sure you’re okay with him continuing.

He’s eager, and he’s sure it’s coming across in the way he’s kissing you. Once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole.

He thinks he could come right there, with the way you’re looking down at him with lusty doe eyes and biting your lower lip. He watches your face as he gently nudges the tip in. Fuck, you’re so tight. He holds it there for a brief second, his restraint threadbare, before fully thrusting it up into your core.

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, sealing his lips around your puffy clit. He pumps his finger in and out of you and flicks and swirls his tongue where he can feel you need it the most. You’re so wet for him, so tight, so willing. If he weren’t already on his knees, he knows he’d fall to them eventually, he’d worship at your alter every day if you’d let him.

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle.

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, because you are. He could stay here for hours, making you come for him again and again.

He can tell you’re close, so he picks up his pace. You’re nearly there, seconds away from giving him what he wants. Just one more –

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. Perfect, sweet girl. The taste of your release and the pretty sounds you make coming have his cock aching. He gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to full height.

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until your lips find his. He wonders if you’ve ever tasted yourself before, or if he’s the first to kiss you after eating you out – the thought makes him even harder, to know he might be the first to show you how sweet you taste.

He watches as you begin to kneel before him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask. He does. Of course he does. He’s just not sure he’d last, but he’d never admit that, besides, there’s something he needs so much more right now.

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

He groans as he feels you bring your palm to cup him through his jeans, drinking in the sensation of your hands tracing over him. His jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. His cock welcomes the attention, too. He’s already leaking, he needs to come so bad.

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says intensely. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop. It feels so good to be free of the confines of his pants, the pressure on his cock a little less overwhelming now.

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. He can tell you might be a little overwhelmed, but he reassures you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. He lifts you with ease and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk in front of him. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length with his fist. He stares at your wet, aching hole, wishing he was buried inside of it. The thought dawns on him that he doesn’t have a condom. No, fuck. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s quite possibly the best sentence he’s ever heard in his entire life.

He knows it might be a little reckless, but he doesn’t have any reason to believe you’d lie to him.

“Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do as he tells you. He sees his hard cock in his hand and opens his mouth to spit on it. You’re wet and ready, but he knows he’s a lot to take, and he doesn’t want to hurt you.

He admires the way you’re holding your legs open for him, giving him full access to your cunt. He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. Holy fuck. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again. How is he ever supposed to last with your pussy clenched this tight around him.

He asks if you’re okay, and when you nod, he pushes in a little more, dragging back out of you for only a second, until he’s jutting his hips forward, fully burying himself deep inside of you. Nothing has ever felt this good to him, nothing could ever compare.

Jesus, think of something else – make this last. He tries to distract his mind, disconnect his cock from his brain, but there’s no point. His primal urges have taken over, his body is losing the war with his mind.

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. He would love to fuck you harder, deeper. He knows he won’t last long, but he doesn’t care, as long as he gets you to come for him one more time.

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. Give the girl what she wants. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk. Your hips are perfectly positioned at the edge. He’s not sure anything could be prettier than you bent over, waiting to once again be stuffed with him.

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. As good as this feels for him, he can tell that something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that he can tell is gonna be the thing that pushes you over the cliff of your orgasm. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” he hears you say, a little breathless.

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep.

Yeah, that’s right. Use me.

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, and it’s borderline too much for him. He’s gotta slow down if he’s gonna last another second.

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you beg for him.

Holy fuck.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come. The immediate release of pressure is exhilarating, probably the best orgasm he’s ever had. He feels his cock pulse out final spurts of come, eliciting shakes from him with each one. He feels weightless like he could fly away and sleep on a cloud.

The sensation of him pulling out is a little much, his cock raw and spent. “Stay there,” he says, scurrying off to the kitchen, looking for something he can give you to help clean you up. His eye catches a roll of paper towels next to the sink and he grabs a handful of them for you.

When he enters the office, he notices how breathtaking you look post-orgasm, post-fuck. It’s a sight he’ll commit to memory forever. He presses his lips to yours again, drinking in your sweetness once more. He thinks he could kiss you forever and never tire of it.

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up.

“Wanna smoke?”

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, he admires your features amidst the dim glow of the fire. So beautiful.

“Too long,” you mumble. He lights his own.

“And you, where are you off to next?” He hears you ask, and he's not sure how to respond.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke twirling in the air around you both.

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours. You. I need to take care of you.

You smile when he winks at you. Gosh, you’re cute when you smile. He wants to be the reason you smile every day.

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him. He thinks it feels nice to be wanted, to have someone to just be with.

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. He’s pleased when you accept.

It’s too soon. He knows it’s too soon, but the thought of you in the passenger seat of his truck, feet on the dash, wind in your hair, makes his heart skip a beat.

He wants more.

And something tells him you do, too.

END

Ily. Thanks for reading! Tags: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @morallyinept @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy @likeficsinthewnd @morning-star-joy @agentjackdaniels @cayleej @amyispxnk @zialltops @syd-djarin @untamedheart81 @gracevnn @pedrossl4t @littlevenicebitch69 @chulopascal

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #consent #joel miller #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller fanfic #Joel's POV

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miguelsslvt · 8 months

Text

friends- chase atlantic

nerd! ex! miguel o’hara x popular! reader college au

word count: 1335

TW: mild smut under cut, overstimulation, smoking, drvg use, manipulative friends.

A/N: so basically, this is my interpretation of a scenario that happened in the nerd! miguel lore!! obviously this isn't 'canon', this is just my interpretation of the wonderful storyline by @nymphomatique !! always go check her out, her stories are honestly the best <33 hope you all enjoy and welcome to the club!!^^

'he's not good for you y/n!' 'he's a freak y/n!' 'he's such a weirdo compared to you y/n!' 'get rid of him y/n!' 'get rid of his ass y/n!'

that's all your 'friends' ever said to you about miguel o'hara. they hated your relationship with him. he was a nerd sure, but all your 'best friends' were adamant that he was no good for you. or your name, for that matter

he was a bit of an outcast and nerd, sure, he used to sit alone at lunch, he would get bullied by the football team, he never got invited to parties, and don't even get started on his glasses.

but, no matter what, you wanted him. you had a reputation of popularity and cockiness sure, but you wanted to introverted freak nonetheless. he was just so.. sweet. and no matter what, you wanted him.

eventually you listened to your friends, cutting off everything you had with miguel so you could stop hearing the constant nagging of 'when are you gonna get rid of him?'

miguel being miguel, he was heartbroken. he cried for days, while you were enjoying your free time partying or sleeping with randomers.

a few weeks swings by, and parker's usual summer party is just tonight. he has one every year, and without a doubt they're the best parties of the whole school year. you were obviously first invite, and you happily agreed. but what you didn't expect, was the conversation in chemistry class that parker and his other 'popular' football friends were saying.

'yeah i invited that o'hara kid, it's gonna be so funny!' peter said, as one of the boys joined in. 'i say we throw him into the pool!' he said, as you chimed in. 'don't be dicks you think you're all so cool and popular bullying a kid? grow up.' you snapped.

peter smirked. 'aw, is little y/n getting possessive over her little ex fuck toy? i swear if you two are gonna fuck in my bed-' 'even if we do i'm sure it'll be better then having another night with your 2 incher. at least he knows where the clit is.' you replied snarkily, the boys laughing as peter went red in the face in anger.

'you're such a slut!' he snapped, you smiled. 'yeah well at least i didn't fuck mandy simpson in the back of english lit last semester.' you said, as peter was livid. he turned around, as you and your friends laughed.

the party arrived, and you wore your favourite black tight dress. it was a spaghetti strap, paired with gold hoop earrings, a gold necklace and some black strap heels. you packed a black and gold bikini just in case the boys decided their usual 2am pool dip.

you grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring 50% in, mixing it with some coca cola. you noticed the usual hockey boys sniffing some sort of substance you didn't really care, you then saw the pick me girls all over peter and his friends. your friends were smoking back in the garden, beside the pool. you decided to walk over to them.

'hey girl! you want a smoke?' gracie asked, as you smiled and lit a cigarette, smoking it with your friends.

'hey, is that.. o'hara?' kate said, pointing to a corner. you turned around quickly, seeing the boy you oh so fondly missed (but you would never tell anyone that).

he looked more ripped. he had been going to the gym, you noticed that when you stalked his instagram story last week. he wore a pair of black jeans, and a polo shirt that was a little too tight for him. his hair was slicked back, and his glasses were a little crooked as usual.

'what a nerd, who invited him?' grace whispered. 'i heard peter invited him just to take the piss outta him. a little far fetched if you ask me.' maddy said, as abbie chimed in. 'well after making y/n look like an absolute freak for dating him, i'm sure the nicest thing o'hara could do is at least look popular so y/n doesn't look like a complete moron.'

'say that again?' you swung your head to abbie, who immediately shut her mouth. 'you can't talk abbie. i swear you fucked hobie brown during spring break?' you replied, as your friends laughed, abbie nodding. 'i deserved that.'

a few hours rolled by, and you were.. tipsy. your friends were either dancing, drinking or making out with one of the hockey dudes. you however, was searching for miguel. and when you found him, your heart boiled.

'cmon o'hara! we so kindly invited you to our party, why don't you just take a little swim with us?!' peter said, pinning miguel up to a wall. miguel was a shaking mess. you sighed, walking up to peter. 'hands off him.' you said, sternly.

'cmon y/n, you two ain't even together anymore. let's just show this little freak what parties are really about hm?' peter replied, as you smacked him swiftly, causing peter to lose his grip on miguel.

'WHAT THE FUCK?!' he snapped. 'touch my boy again, and i'll fucking end your career. you hear me?! one snapchat story and you could lose everything parker, you hear me?! now fuck off, enjoy your little party, and leave me and MY man alone!' you yelled, as peter's friends were awe-struck. they knew you were mouthy, but jeez.

'stupid bitch!' peter yelled, before walking away. tears welled miguel's eyes, as y/n grabbed his hand, taking him into her car.

she started the car, as the two were silent on the way home. 'w..where are we going?' miguel asked. 'my dorm.' you said in reply. '..i'm not your boy y'know. not anymore.' miguel mumbled. that made you raise a brow. 'i'm sorry, what?'

'you said i was 'yours' earlier, a-and..' tears fell down miguel's face. 'i'm not. n-not adfter y-you dumped me.' he said, as you sighed.

'..you're supposed to be smart, o'hara. why the fuck can't you see why i dumped you?' you said, as miguel looked away. 'i do know. i- i know it's because your friends said so. th-they didn't want you to be unpopular and weird.' he said.

'..i'm.. fuck man.' you mumbled, sighing. 'you know me, miguel. you know i hate saying this. but.. i'm sorry.' you said, that made his heart stop. you're.. sorry?

'i do want you. i've always fucking wanted you. but my friends they.. they just- they were in my ear for so long i-' 'tell me.' he cut you off. 'what?' you asked. 'what were we? we weren't exactly together, b-but we weren't not? i.. all i know is that we weren't just friends.' miguel stated.

he had a point. technically speaking, you two were just fuck buddies. 'we.. we were just fuck buddies.' you said honestly. 'and i stopped that because of my.. stupid fucking friends.' you parked outside the dorm. 'and y'know? i don't give two shits what anyone thinks about us.' you said, looking at miguel. he wiped his tears.

'do-does that make us.. something again?' he asked. '..get out.' you stated, as you got out the car, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the dorm.

---------------------------------------

'm..mistress p-please..' he begged, his legs shaking. you had been sucking him off for about an hour now, not stopping. it was his nth orgasm, and he couldn't feel anything.tears were streaming down his face, but you weren't done. not yet.

'let your mistress please you, yeah baby? i've been neglecting you for so long..' you cooed, stroking his cock as his eyes rolled back. you tutted. 'aww, so sensitive.. is my little dweeb tapping out before even touching mistress?' you teased, as he shook his head.

'n..no.. w-want to feel y-you mistress.. p-lease..' he whimpered, as you let go, moving to sit on his lap.

'trust me baby, we aren't stopping until i say so.'

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