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puckinghischier · 1 month

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Jersey Talk

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader finds herself engaging in a lot of jersey talk

notes: part 3 of my lil unnamed nico series!! i loved writing this part and hope you enjoy it as much as i do 🥹 also, i didn’t really proofread so ignore any mistakes. and just a disclaimer, i don’t claim to know everything there is to know about any of the players mentioned in my writing, so if there’s inaccuracies on timelines or personality traits, just ignore them and assume it’s for the plot 😌

p.s.!! i’m thinking about starting a tag list for this/any of my writing i post so if you want to be a part of that, let me know!!

part 1, part 2, part 4

[6.4k]

You absolutely love how foot travel friendly New Jersey is. Coming from an area where foot travel is virtually nonexistent, the change is a welcomed one. You appreciate being able to simply grab your favorite totes, your headphones, and make the fifteen-minute walk to the small corner store. Surely in the winter you’ll feel differently about the five-block trek, but hopefully you’ll have your car by then. For now, the comfortable Autumn air makes the walk enjoyable. The fresh air, the beautiful buildings, and the surprising friendliness of the strangers you pass on the street make you feel like you made the right decision in relocating your life to the garden state.

Luckily this grocery run was fairly light, only needing to pick up some essentials until one of the boys gives you a ride to the larger chain grocery store on one of their upcoming off days. You really just needed the ingredients to make dinner tonight, making good on your promise to be their personal shopper and occasional chef in exchange for a place to live. You even stopped in a small bakery about a block from your apartment and picked up a few assorted pastries for a sweet treat later, knowing how much Luke loves his dessert.

As you walk into the apartment, courtesy of your shiny new key Jack gave you last week, you see both him and Luke on the couch, each with one hand on an iPad held out so both could view the contents on the screen. You assume they’re watching game film, preparing for their game later in the week against the Rangers. Your assumption is confirmed when you hear the unmistakable sound of sticks slapping against pucks and ice coming from the iPad in question.

They’re both so engrossed in the game film on the screen that they have no clue that you’ve even walked through the door. You make your way to the kitchen to unload what’s in your hands, putting away what little groceries you bought. Once you’re finished in the kitchen, you make your way back out into the living room, wanting to catch up with your roommates on how their midday practice had gone. As you walk towards the living area, rounding the loveseat adjacent to the sectional where the boys sit, Luke catches your moving figure from the corner of his eye. His body jerks slightly, clearly startled until he notices its only you.

“Oh my god you just scared the shit out of me,” you hear him exhale, holding his hand to his chest.

You just chuckle as you see Jack whip his head up, confused as to what Luke was referring to until he saw you sitting down, tucking your feet up under your legs to get comfortable.

“When did you get home? Have you been here the whole time?” Jack asks, pausing the game film and sitting the iPad on the small coffee table in the center of the room.

“No, you two were just lost in hockey land when I came in. I went to the corner mart a few blocks down to get stuff to make dinner, then put it all away before coming in here. Thought I’d give you guys a few more minutes before I came in here and interrupted,” you replied, resting your chin on your hands that are placed on the arm of the loveseat.

“Well, you have our full attention now. What’s up?” Jack leans back into the couch once again, stretching his arms above his head.

“Just wanted to talk to my boys. See how practice went today. Figure out how you guys are going to fare against the Rags,” you throw in a small dig at their biggest rival team.

“The Rags? Since when do you participate in hockey talk?” Luke chimes into the conversation, laughing slightly at your attempt to assimilate into the world of hockey.

“Since I overheard a conversation at this cute little bakery down the street. While I was waiting in line there was a man in front of me with a Devils hat on and the guy working the counter was asking him about his thoughts on the game this week. He was talking about how much he wishes ‘the boys can pull their heads out of their asses and beat the damn Rags’ and I thought it was funny. Figured I should probably adopt the local vernacular if I want to fit in around here. You know, participate in the Jersey talk,” you recall with a shrug of your shoulders.

The two brothers let out a little chuckle at your story, amused at your attempt to insert yourself into their world. The two of them and Quinn taught you a lot about how hockey is played and the rules over the years, but their hope of you fully getting involved in all of the aspects of hockey and the fanbase quickly dissolved. They would sit and force you to watch reruns of games with them over the summer at the lake, and you would sit there and whine because of how badly you wanted to go out on the boat or drive the golf cart down to the local ice cream shop, not listening to a single word the trio would say to you. Once you made the decision to move in with the two youngest brothers, you figured you should probably put a little more effort into the whole hockey fan experience, considering you would likely be attending games on a regular basis.

“Well, we’ve been preparing for the Rags, so that old man in the bakery can rest easy knowing we’re working our asses off, which our heads aren’t in, by the way,” Jack speaks, correcting the stranger’s statement.

“Yeah, we’re doing really well, actually. We keep splitting the team up and forcing one half to mimic the Rangers and some of their techniques, so we’re actually getting really good at stopping them from getting the puck into our zone. Plus, our goalies are putting out some insane stops during practice, so I really think we’ve got this in the bag,” Luke adds, excited to showcase their hard work.

You’ve noticed that practices must have been hard for the boys this week. A lot of naps and ibuprofen consumed. You haven’t really seen much of them, if you’re being honest. They’re usually gone by the time you wake up in the mornings and so tired by the time they come home that they go straight to the couch or their bedrooms and fall asleep. By the time they wake up from their naps you’re usually already cooking dinner, at least getting to chat a bit while you cook. After finishing dinner they’re back to the couch, watching game film or heading back to the arena for various events and strategy meetings. They go to bed fairly early, considering all of their early morning starts, so evenings are usually spent in your room by yourself watching tv or catching up with your friends back home. You suppose you should get used to spending time by yourself, though, knowing you’ll be here by yourself more often than not during the season.

They had a game in Boston a few days prior, leaving you with your apartment to yourself for the first time in the two weeks you’ve lived with them. They were only gone for one night, but it was definitely lonely. You really haven’t been here long enough to have an abundance of people to call up anytime Jack and Luke were unavailable, so you had passed the time by exploring the area around your apartment complex a little, finding the perfect park to go sit at to soak up some much-needed sunshine. You couldn’t hide your excitement when the two brothers returned home the next evening, though. You got up from the couch and ran over to the door, ready to greet them and ask them all about the game (you had watched it on tv, but you really just wanted to talk to someone after a full day with no one’s company but your own), but you were greeted with tired eyes and frowns, despite their win the previous night. You simply gave each of them a hug and then sent them off to bed, knowing once they got some sleep they would be up for conversation.

This is why, right now, even though you have zero knowledge of what preparing for a rival hockey game consists of, you’re taking in every word the two have to offer about the subject. You’re just happy to have a few uninterrupted minutes to sit and talk with them.

“Good! That’s great! Really…good,” you say, giving a thumbs up and awkward smile after failing to come up with a better response to Luke’s statements.

Luke just laughs, appreciating your attempts at interest in their jobs.

“You’re coming to the game, right? We put back a ticket for you, but if you can’t make it that’s okay, too. Got you a pretty sick seat, though. Glass seat, right beside the net,” Jack reveals, raising his eyebrows a bit, as if trying to convince you.

“Of course I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you exclaim, a little offended at the mere thought you’d skip out on such a big game for them.

“You won’t be disappointed, I swear. We’re gonna kick some major Rags ass,” Luke adds, excitement showing at the idea of you being in the crowd.

“The real question here shouldn’t be if I’m coming to the game or not. It’s whose jersey am I going to wear?” you throw out, poking fun at the two.

“Pshh, c’mon that one’s a no brainer. You’ll obviously wear mine, I’m your favorite,” Jack waves off your words, fully confident that you’ll agree with him.

“I don’t know, Rowdy. I feel like plenty of people will have 86 jerseys on. It is Moose’s rookie season, maybe I should wear his so he feels included.”

“Yeah, dickhead. You have a whole arena full of people wearing your number, she should wear mine. We all know it’s the better number anyways,” Luke retorts.

Jack rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to fire back an insult at Luke, but he’s cut off by a knock at the door. You look over at the two boys to see if they know who might be at the door, but both of their faces mirror your confused look. So much for your uninterrupted time with them.

“Did you guys invite someone over? Or should I be worried that there’s a murderer standing on the other side of our door right now,” you ask.

“Well first of all I don’t think a murderer would knock on the door. They would probably pick the lock or something. Isn’t the whole point of murdering someone to do it when they don’t see it coming?” Jack responds, standing up. “Second of all, it’s probably just Nico. I had mentioned watching game film together at practice earlier and he told me he’d see how he was feeling later. Kinda forgot about it, if I’m being honest, but this is around the time he wakes up from his post-practice nap.”

You sit up a little straighter when Jack mentions his teammate and captain. You hadn’t seen him since your first night in town about two weeks ago. You’d caught little bits of information about him in passing from both Jack and Luke, but tried to keep your questions about him to a minimum. The two of you were still practically strangers, not having had any reason to communicate after that night. You assume he’s been as busy as Jack and Luke, coming and going far more than you. Still, you’re surprised you haven’t even run into him once. You figure his captain duties keep him far busier than even Luke and Jack.

You hear the front door open and then two sets of voices making their way down the short hallway. You look over to see Nico in a hoodie and sweats, a hat hiding his long hair. You think back to that night at the bar when his hair was uncovered and he was having to push it out of his eyes for most of the night, wishing you could catch a glimpse of the brown locks right now. The two were continuing their short conversation from the door, so Nico had yet to acknowledge you or Luke yet. You look away, starting to pick at a loose thread on your socks, knowing you needed to avert your eyes before you were caught staring.

Unknown to you, Luke had already noticed your stare, observing how fixated you were on his captain. You look over to find Luke staring at you, an undecipherable expression on his face. You give him a puzzled look, as if to say ‘what?’ and he responds by simply shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“Oh, hey you two. How’s it going?” Nico’s voice pulls you from your silent conversation with Luke, noticing Jack was no longer next to him.

“Hey, man. How was your nap? Your shoulder okay?” Luke asks him, adjusting his body slightly on the couch to make room for Nico to sit down.

You turn your head to look at Nico once again, a small hint of worry surfacing. He doesn’t look injured? His arm isn’t in a sling or anything, and he’s not holding it in pain. You watch as he sits down to see if even the smallest wince makes its way across his face as his back comes to rest against the plush cushions. If he’s in any sort of pain, he’s not letting it show in his actions.

“Yeah, perfectly fine. Don’t give yourself that much credit, kid. You don’t hit nearly as hard as you think you do,” Nico chuckles, taking his hand and tapping Luke on the knee a few times.

“Trying to hurt your captain before a huge game, Luke?” you speak for the first time since Nico entered the apartment. “Maybe I should wear Jack’s jersey on Saturday.”

“I knew it! See, my jersey is clearly the better choice, Moose. Sucks to suck, huh?” Jack interjects with a grin, walking from the direction of the kitchen, glass of water in hand.

“Now c’mon, Y/N, that isn’t even fair. It was an accident!” Luke cries out. “We were running drills and I was trying to stop, but I misjudged and ran into Nico. He didn’t even hit the glass that hard, you heard him!”he argues, looking between you and his brother.

“All I’m saying is, it won’t look good if the rookie is the reason the captain can’t play against public enemy number one. Then you’ll become public enemy number one, and I can’t be caught at a game wearing the new public enemy’s jersey. I’m already a newcomer, I can’t tarnish my reputation this early,” you hold your hands up in defense.

“What have I just walked into?” Nico asks, eyes darting between the three of you.

“Well, right before you walked in, we were talking about which jersey Y/N was going to wear to the game on Saturday. I told her the obvious choice was mine, but she decided to spew some bullshit about there being too many 86 jerseys already, so she should wear Luke’s since he’s new and needs to feel included,” Jack uses finger quotes around the last part of his sentence.

“Well, she has a point.”

“See! Even Cap thinks so! That’s it, you’re wearing my jersey, Y/N. Cap’s word is final,” Luke leans back, taking in his assumed victory.

Your mind wanders back to Nico’s words he spoke to you at the bar a couple of weeks ago, wondering if Luke’s statement includes those words, too.

“Maybe I should be fair and not wear either jersey. Just go down the roster and pick a random name and then buy it,” you joke, watching the brothers widen their eyes like you just told them you ran over their childhood pet.

“That’s…not even funny. How dare you even joke about something so important,” Jack stares at you, seriousness painted on his features.

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s just…that’s just cruel,” Luke emphasizes the last word dramatically.

“I think you should do it. In fact, I have a spare jersey I think you can wear,” Nico adds, looking at you with mischievous eyes.

“Oh, well that actually sounds lovely, Nico, thank you! What better way to show my support at my first Devils game than sporting the captain’s jersey?”

Jack and Luke both turn their heads to glare at their captain sitting between them. If looks could kill, the poor Swiss man would be six feet under right now. The Hughes brothers don’t play around when it comes to their jerseys. You remember when you had gone to one of Luke’s games while he was playing for Michigan, wanting to buy a Michigan jersey in support, but the gift shop had run out of Luke’s number once he announced his contract with the Devils. You knew you could have simply asked him for a jersey, knowing he had several lying around his dorm room, but the trip was supposed to be a surprise.

You were forced to buy a random jersey with some lesser known last name on it, because you still wanted to show up in Michigan attire. You don’t even remember whose name and number it was, but you remember the look on Luke’s face when he saw you during warm ups, going from pure joy to disgust in seconds. He skated off, going to the locker room briefly before returning with a yellow Jersey that he then threw over the glass to your seat, motioning for you to put it on. You just laughed and did as you were told. You’ve had similar arguments with both Jack and Quinn over threatening to wear a teammates jersey over the years, but you just like to poke fun at how protective the three are over you. Jack explained to you that they want you to wear their jersey’s because it shows their teammates that you’re to be left alone, knowing the reputations of their fellow players.

“Cap, please don’t make me kick you out of this apartment right now,” Jack looks at Nico with complete seriousness.

“Maybe I need to work on my body checks in practice tomorrow, Cap,” Luke tries to threaten.

Nico simply laughs, shaking his head at the sudden unity between the two bickering brothers.

“Alright, chill out you two, all jokes. Unless…” You trail off, standing up.

“No, no unless. You’re wearing one of our jerseys, preferably mine. Hey! Where are you going, this is serious!” Jack yells after you as you walk towards the kitchen.

“Unless you want to starve tonight, someone has to start making dinner. Plus, I have some jersey shopping to do,” you say, hearing Nico’s laughter ringing out once more as you enter the kitchen.

———————————————————————————

“Hey, Nico! Are you staying for dinner? I need to know how much pasta to make!” you shout from your spot by the stove, having just sat down a large pot of water on the hot eye.

You walk over to the cabinet to grab the box of pasta and a couple jars of sauce, waiting for an answer from the living room. You decided to go with just simple spaghetti and salad tonight, not really in the mood for having to prep a ton of food and spend an hour and a half cooking. Jack will probably complain about the amount of carbs he’s consuming, but he’ll get over it. As if he doesn’t burn enough calories from practice and his personal workouts he does on a daily basis. Luke will just be happy to have something that isn’t chicken, seeing as that’s all you made for the first few days of your new living arrangement, trying to stick to the meal plan Jack had the nutritionist send you.

After the third night of some form of chicken and vegetables, Luke was quick to inform you that no one on the team follows the meal plan so strictly. You also learned that Jack is going through some phase of eating nothing but chicken or steak and brown rice, Luke revealing that’s what the two mostly lived on during the weeks leading up to your move. You had told Luke he should learn to cook for himself, and then he wouldn’t be forced to eat what Jack or you decide to make if he doesn’t like it, but he had rolled his eyes and told you “this was the agreement, right? We won’t let you pay rent, so you told us you would contribute by cooking. So really, I’m just helping you fulfill your roommate duties.”

You still don’t have an answer from the three in the living room. You figure they’re too busy with game film to hear you, so you decide to just make enough for Nico, too. You can always pack up the leftovers and have them for lunch the next few days if needed. You dump what you think to be the proper amount of pasta for four people into the pot once it reaches a boil, then work on pouring the sauce into a pan to let it heat up. You cheated on the salad, too, deciding to just buy two bags of salad mix, dumping the bag into a large bowl and adding the small packets of toppings. You’ve just dumped the now done pasta into the colander in the sink, turning to put the pot back onto the stove to cool off a bit when a voice causes you to nearly drop the hot pot in your hands.

“It smells delicious in here,” Nico announces his presence, walking through the doorway towards the fridge.

You settle yourself before setting the pot down safely on the stovetop before speaking. “You know, I really need to get on ordering those squeaky shoes if I want to avoid a heart attack by 25.”

Turning your body, you see Nico hunched over looking in the fridge, arm reaching towards a water bottle before raising up, flashing you a smile.

“Nah, even if you buy them I wouldn’t wear them. This is like, our thing now. Me sneaking up on you, you getting mad, me getting a good laugh out of it,” he stands back at his full height now.

“How comforting that you find enjoyment out of my jumpiness. Such an admirable trait to have,” you grumble, taking the pasta from the sink and transfer it into the pan filled with sauce. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner, seeing as it looks like I made enough to feed the entire team, but I think I’ll just leave you to fend for yourself. See how funny that is.”

This earns another laugh, Nico moving to lean against the counter opposite of you, watching you try to combine the sauce and the pasta without making a giant mess.

“Why don’t you just put it back in the pot you cooked the pasta in. You’ll be able to mix it easier.”

“Because apparently that would have been too easy,” you step back and huff, wondering why you didn’t think of that before you created an overflowing mess of sauce and noodles.

Nico makes his way over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders to move you out of the way. He picks up the pan and dumps the contents into the pot sitting next to it, not spilling a single drop.

“There, now you can mix it easier and it won’t spill out over the sides and cause an even bigger mess,” he states, placing the dirty pan in the sink behind you.

“Okay, captain chef, next time you’re cooking dinner, since you clearly have more kitchen skills than me,” you tell him, making your way across the kitchen to collect plates to sit on the table.

Nico just chuckles as he watches you grab the plates, sitting one in front of each chair around the small dining table that sits in the kitchen.

“It smells so good in here, please tell me its almost done,” Jack enters the kitchen, Luke trailing behind him.

“It is, just finished actually,” you look up, Nico carrying the pot of steaming pasta from the stove to the table, careful not to drop it.

“Rowdy, grab the salad over there by the sink for me while I grab some forks for everyone,” you move towards the silverware drawer, walking around the Swiss man in your kitchen, having to turn your body slightly as he steps back from the table.

“Well, I better get going, my leftovers aren’t going to heat themselves up,” Nico announces, starting to make his way out of the kitchen.

“Cap, are you crazy? Do you not see how much food Bouy made?” Jack places the bowl of salad next to the pot of pasta, taking his seat at the table.

“Jack, I’m being so serious right now, if you keep using that stupid nickname for me I will sneak laxatives into your protein shakes.” You take the seat across from Jack, Luke falling into the seat to your left.

“Well, as long as it’s okay with Bouy, I’d love to stay.” Nico walks back over to the table, taking the seat next to Jack, smirking while avoiding eye contact with you.

“I know where you live, so the threat extends to you too, Cap” you glare at Nico.

The rest of the meal is mostly filled with talk between the three hockey players, you chiming in here and there, until Jack shifts the topic of conversation to you.

“So, what’s the update with your new job? You have everything lined up and ready to go?”

“Yeah, talked to them earlier today, actually. They said they’d have my office ready in about a week, so I should be starting not long after that.” You shrug, not wanting to bore them with the details of the corporate scene in New Jersey.

“Where are you going to be working?” Nico asks, genuine interest present in his tone, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“I got offered a position with a small publishing company not too far from here, actually. Mostly independent, up and coming authors, but still exciting,” you reveal, perking up a bit at the opportunity to talk about your passion.

“Was super worried I wasn’t going to be able to use my degree after college, seeing as the market for English lit degrees isn’t too wide unless you want to teach. At least, that’s how it is back home. After I graduated and Jack offered the spare room here, I applied to a few positions here in Jersey and a few in New York, willing to make the commute if needed. Only heard back from one place, though. And it just so happened to be a thirty-minute drive from here, so I accepted and started packing,” you explained.

“It was meant to be. The gang back together once again,” Jack beams.

“Well, the gang minus Quinn. The fucker just had to end up in Vancouver of all places,” Luke grumbles, still upset the oldest Hughes is so far away.

“Lucky for us I can work remotely if I ever need or want to, so this summer at the lake we can all be together again,” you try to cheer Luke up, knowing how much he wishes the three brothers could have played on the same team while making their dreams come true.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack celebrates. “This is going to be the best summer at the lake house yet. We’re all grown, most of us legal drinking age, but don’t worry, we won’t tell if you won’t, Lukey,” Jack winks over at Luke, knowing the underage drinking rule has never really applied in the sacred space of the lake houses, “and we’ll all finally be there together again after, what, like 6 years?”

“It’s been awhile, at least that long,” you try to think back to the last time everyone was there together.

It was the summer before Quinn got drafted. Quinn had signed to play hockey at Michigan a few months before everyone was set to arrive at the summer oasis. You remember being so proud of him. You couldn’t wait to finally see him and congratulate him in person, knowing how hard he had worked for it. You figured things would stay the same for a few more years, expecting him to come home every summer for the next four years before moving on to the NHL. You had no clue that he would be drafted only a summer later and that it would be the beginning of the end for the summers of fun at the lake house.

“Nico, you should come up this summer! It’s always such a good time!” Jack pulls you from your reminiscing.

“I mean, maybe. I’ve been talking to my parents about flying home during the off season this year, since I didn’t make it over there last year. But I could probably come for a few days, at least,” he shrugs his shoulders.

You try to picture Nico at the lake house, hat covering his hair, swim trunks and a t-shirt covering his body. You picture him lounging on the boat in the sun while Jack takes everyone out for a midday ride, finding a secluded spot somewhere on the lake to stop and swim for a while. You picture him trying to wake surf, wondering if he’d be instantly good at it or if he would end up wiping out in the water. You picture him sitting around the fire at night, a light hoodie on to the mask the chill that never fails to make an appearance on Michigan summer nights, the glow from the fire illuminating his face just enough for you to admire him. You picture him with a slight sunburn on his nose, tan skin glowing from being in the sun so often.

You must have been lost in your thoughts for longer than you realized, because you came back to the conversation with several calls of your name from the seat next to you.

“Are you even listening to us anymore? Or do you really not want Cap coming to the lake house?” Luke looks over at you, slightly waving his hand in front of your face.

“What? No,” you say, looking around at the expectant faces surrounding you. “I mean, no I don’t care if he comes. It would be fun, yeah. If he can make it, of course. You heard him, I’m sure he’s excited to see his family.”

“I’m sure I can work something out. Have the best of both worlds. These two have talked about the infamous lake house so much I’m curious to see if it really lives up to all the hype,” Nico leans back, nodding his head towards both Jack and Luke.

“Then its settled! Cap is coming to Michigan this summer!” Jack cheers, throwing his arms up in celebration.

You laugh in response to Jack’s excitement, noticing that everyone seems to be done eating, plates clean and glasses empty. You stand up and start to take some of the dishes to the sink, setting them in there before walking back over to the table.

“Since you’re in such a good mood, I think now would be the best time to tell you that you and Luke have dish duty tonight.” You clear the last of the dishes off the table.

You watch Jack’s face fall, while Luke’s does a sharp turn in your direction. You turn your back to them to walk back over to the counter, opening the cabinet below you to find Tupperware to store the leftovers in.

“On that note, I better get going. Have some laundry I need to get done before practice in the morning,” Nico stands, bringing over a few stray pieces of silverware you seemed to have missed.

“Oh, no you don’t, Cap. You heard her, she cooked, we clean,” Jack turns to look at his captain as he makes his way to the sink.

“No, I said you and Luke have dish duty tonight. Nico’s name was never mentioned. Guests don’t do the dishes, Jack. I know Ellen raised you better than that.”

“Nico is hardly a guest. He’s over here all the time!” Luke chimes in, opening one of the drawers by the sink, grabbing a towel to dry dishes with.

“He doesn’t pay any rent for the apartment, therefore he’s a guest. Just accept your fate, you two. You’ll survive, I promise.” You hand the pot you just emptied to Jack, taking the food in your hands to the fridge a few steps away.

“You don’t pay any rent, and you’re not a guest,” Jack mumbles, hands covered in soapy suds.

“Exactly! That means I don’t do the dishes, either. I knew you’d catch on eventually! And they say you’re just a pretty face,” you shut the fridge door, looking over at Jack with an amused grin.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Jack whines.

“C’mon, man, you walked right into that one,” Nico adds, laughing at his teammate.

Jack glares at the taller man. “I thought you said you were leaving, that you had laundry to do or some shit.”

“I am, I am,” Nico throws his hands up in defense.

“I’ll walk you out, Nico. Leave the children to pout while doing their chores,” you jest, walking toward the kitchen’s exit.

“Thanks for dinner, Y/N. Ten times better than whatever I would’ve found in my fridge,” Nico says as you pass through the living room.

“Anytime, Cap,” you use his title, blaming Jack and Luke for the new habit. “After all, I owed you for rescuing me from sleeping in the hallway.”

This earns another one of those laughs you love to hear fall from his mouth, smiling to yourself as he follows you down the small hallway towards the front door.

“I feel like you definitely had to put in more effort on your end of that deal,” he steps through the door you’re holding open.

“I’ll just wait until you owe me a favor, then I’ll make sure to cash in some extravagant request,” you joke, leaning against the door as he stands in the hallway.

“I’ll be eagerly awaiting the day.”

Nico takes his apartment key from his pocket and unlocks his door, opening it and stepping inside, turning around to face you once again, his stance mirroring your own in his own doorway.

“So, I’ll see you at the game on Saturday, then?” He stalls a goodbye.

“Yep, I’ll be there. Still deciding which brother I’m going to piss off,” you reference the earlier argument over whose jersey you’ll wear.

“Oh, that reminds me-“ Nico says before propping his door open, leaving you alone in your doorway, confused as to where he could’ve gone.

After about a minute of you standing there, wondering if he was going to come back, he returns, holding a red jersey in his hand.

“Here, figured there’s no sense in you going out and buying one if you really wanted to mess with their heads.”

He hands you the jersey, stepping back into his doorway. You unfold the jersey and notice the big black C on the upper left corner of the jersey. It was a solid red jersey, the team’s symbol in the middle, two black stripes on the forearms of each sleeve, more black accents on the shoulders of the jersey. You look up at him, a little surprised.

“I- I can’t take one of your jerseys, Nico. What if I mess it up, or spill something on it? I’ll just wear one of the ones I have. This looks too nice to risk it,” you attempt to hand the jersey back across the hallway.

“No, I insist. I think it’ll be fun to mess around with them a little. Especially Jack, since he seemed so convinced you were going to wear his. They’ll never even see it coming,” Nico refuses.

You run the idea through your head for a second, thinking about how it would be a funny little dig at the boys. You also think about the implications of wearing a jersey that doesn’t belong to one of Hughes brothers. It’s harmless, though, right? Nico said it was just a fun way to get under their skin. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Y/N’ you think to yourself, trying to kick your habit of creative narratives in your head.

“Okay, but if I end up getting kicked out of my apartment I’m knocking on your door to sleep on your couch,” you finally agree.

“My door’s always open for you.”

You look back down to the jersey in your hands to hide the blush that appears on your face at his words. You know you’ve only known him for a short period of time, tonight being the first real chunk of time you’ve spent in his presence, but Nico is making it really hard for you to keep your feelings for him casual. You’ve always had a habit of getting a case of the heart eyes fast, but you’re trying to be normal, for once.

He’s likely just being his normal, personable self and you’re letting every smile and joke go to your head, placing more meaning on them than is warranted. There’s just something about him, though. He’s extremely attractive, for one. But it’s more than that. From all that you’ve learned about him through Jack and Luke, and the easy conversation that has flowed between the two of you from the moment you first spoke to him in the hallway, you can’t lie to yourself and say you’re not drawn to the Swiss captain.

Your mind circles back to the idea of wearing his jersey this weekend and what Jack and Luke will think. What if you seriously hurt their feelings? What if it affects how they play because they’re mad at you? What if they ignore you the whole game? You know the two brothers love you, but you also know how petty they can both be when mad.

“Stop overthinking it. I can see you getting lost up in that head of yours. It’s a harmless joke. They’re not going to freak out on the ice or anything. And if they do, I’m in more danger than you are,” Nico reassures you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You better at least score a goal if I’m risking being homeless for you,” you tell him, looking back up at his face.

“How about I do you one better. If you promise to wear my jersey, I’ll score a hatty for your first ever New Jersey Devils hockey experience,” Nico offers, his eyes flashing with something you assume is delight at a challenge.

“Well then you better work on your slapshot tomorrow morning, Captain. I’ll be holding you to that Saturday night,” you take the bait, knowing how difficult a hat trick is to pull off.

“No need, I know I’ll have the right motivation night of to get it done,” he winks at you, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. “And if I don’t, consider it your IOU for that extravagant request you might need one day,” He responds, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders, the nonchalance of his body language making you hope for his failure, just so you can think of some ridiculous task for him to perform.

“Thanks for the heads up, I’ll get right to brainstorming,” you respond, trying to prevent your thoughts from spiraling yet again.

Nico lets out a small laugh, standing up straight and placing his hand on the handle of his door. “Think hard. Let me know what you come up with. Have a good night, Bouy, see you Saturday.” He shuts the door before you can berate him for using the nickname you hate.

You walk back into your apartment, door shutting behind you, going straight to your room to hide the jersey before either of the boys see it. You think back on the entire interaction, a smile on your face at the possibility of being able to have Nico do anything you ask him. As you’re walking past the kitchen you hear Jack’s voice.

“Luke, am I stupid or did Y/N call me stupid earlier?” he recalls your earlier comment about him being ‘just a pretty face’.

“Think about how you worded the first part of your question and you’ll have your answer,” you hear Luke respond as you make it past the kitchen unnoticed, making you stifle a giggle so you won’t be discovered.

Oh how you loved being back with your boys.

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kayfabebabe · 2 years

Note

× rose quartz— what’s your love language (romantic or platonic)?

× fuchsia— describe your personality in three words!

× salmon— would you prefer a partner who is an introvert or an extrovert? why?

× hibiscus— what’s your favorite pet name, if any? why?

Oh hey there, Ranger - Thank you so much for the Ask <3

Rose Quartz (Romantic) - 3 words. Acts - Of - Service. I love being helpful and useful, even in ways that aren’t huge gestures. Do you need someone to rearrange and organise your cupboards? (Not a euphemism for something.) I am your Human. Do you need someone to research where to get the best deal for a certain thing? I already have Google pulled up. Do you need someone to take something to the post office? I'm already lacing up my shoes.

Fuchsia - Only three words? Well, crap sandwich. That’s pretty tough. I’d guess I… No, that’s wrong. Let’s go with… Not that either. Hm, how about - Anxious confusing goober. That sounds good. There we go. My final answer. In three words. (D'ya get it?)

Salmon - I think I’d definitely prefer my partner to be more on the introverted side than extroverted. I am an introverted assbutt and, in this instance, I don’t think opposites are likely to attract.

Hibiscus - Confession time, I haven’t been called many ‘pet names’ in the past so I don’t entirely know the ones that I like the most. I know the ones that I hate - “Honey Bunny or Hunny Bunny.” - I hate that pet name. One that I always find hilarious, but I don’t think I want to be called is ‘Sugartits.’ It just makes me giggle. (If I’m being honest, I really like it when someone calls me ‘Baby.’ )

#Ask Answered #^Twirls hair around finger^#Hey Ranger #Thank you for the Ask #<3 #Ask Game #The Human Speaks #Oh Hi Ranger tag

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atticrissfinch · 10 months

Note

HI BESTIE IT’S ME HELLO HI! I HAVE REQUEST.

I love your stories I’m wondering if you’d ever want to write a serial killer joel where reader is lost in the woods or something and he invites her in and she tries to leave once she sees but😈sorry I’m so fucked up HAHAHA thank you🩵

Hostage (serial killer!joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

pairing: serialkiller!joel miller x fem!reader summary: when you get lost in the woods, a stranger offers to help you get back to your camping site. when your gut tells you to run, you run--until he catches you. CAUTION: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS/TAGS warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] dark!serialkiller!joel, extreme dubcon/essentially noncon, kidnapping, assault, gunplay, gun insertion, knifeplay, mentions of blood/bloodplay, mentions of ambiguous full noncon, restraints, unprotected piv, creampie, antiquated views on how vaginas work, degradation as an insult (whore, slut, bitch, cunt, etc)word count: ~5.2K | ao3 a/n: thank you to @within-the-depths for this lovely request! I love delving into dark!joel and this was the perfect excuse to try something new for me!! Might be a possibility for some sequels here if i get inspired enough and people like this 👀 Masterlist | Kofi

Camping by yourself had seemed like an awesome idea at the time, but at this moment, the gravity of your poor decision-making skills is really setting in.

You stumble through the bramble and brush, every direction a carbon copy of the one you faced prior. Your dumb ass didn’t think you’d need your entire hiking pack just to fill your canteen at the nearby babbling brook. All you needed was a good ear, right? Just follow the sounds of the stream, no problem.

Yeah. Fucking problem.

The woods around you are thick and dense, disorienting you as you search for the proper path. You should have turned back about 25 minutes ago, but now you have no fucking idea where “back” even is.

“Lookin’ a little lost there, darlin’.”

You jump about a mile into the air at the voice behind you, and you whirl around frantically.

A man, broad and rugged, stands with a knee popped out and a curious expression. He’s armed with a hunting rifle pointed at the ground, but hands at the ready if he needed to fire it.

His intimidating stature has you shrinking back a little.

“Just, uh, just getting my bearings, that’s all.” You stutter out, not entirely sure you should trust a stranger in the woods with your current circumstance. You are very unequipped and very alone. Not a winning combination for anyone but a psycho.

But he looks just like a normal guy. Your average hunter-gatherer type in his sturdy jeans, thick flannel, and beaten-to-hell steel-toe boots.

“Well,” He says, using the low-aimed barrel of his rifle to gesture a sweeping semi-circle around the forest, “I’m pretty damn familiar with these parts. ‘Fact, I got a cabin a little ways back. Got a radio in it. Could call for a ranger to guide you back. Probably a shorter walk than tryin’ to find your campin’ spot blind.”

“Oh, I really appreciate the offer, but I think I just need to—”

“Only gonna get yourself more lost, darlin’. Know for a fact you ain’t gonna get any reception out here. You don’t got no compass, no supplies,” His eyes sweep up and down your figure, “Not the most practically dressed, neither.”

You shuffle your feet, looking down at your graphic tee and biking shorts. Maybe not the best wardrobe for being stranded in the woods, but you were wearing tennis shoes and hiking socks.

“How’s about you come on back to my cabin and we’ll get you fixed up,” He invites, taking a few steps toward you.

You take a half step back and he stills in response.

You turn your head to look behind you, then back at the man. “Mister, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all, but I really think I can figure out—”

He advances toward you, shaking his head with an odd expression on his face—frustration? When he gets close enough he holds a hand out to you, schooling his face into one that’s more controlled.

“Don’t be stubborn with me, now. Let’s just get you where you need to be goin’.” He levels you with an expectant look and emphasizes his outstretched hand.

You eye it anxiously but ultimately take it. His grip is warm, callused, and sturdy. He leads you resolutely in a specific direction, tugging you along when you fail to keep up properly. The deeper into the trees he takes you, the louder the alarm bells chime in your head.

When you can’t dismiss them anymore, you dig your heels into the dirt, yanking the two of you to a stop. The man’s head whips around at you with that same weird look on his face from before.

“I’m sorry, I really think I need to just find my own way.”

The man angrily huffs in a tone that heartily reinforces your intuition. “Stop fuckin’ fightin’ with me and—HEY!” He yells after you as you bolt in the opposite direction.

You don’t think, you just run.

“Get back here, little rabbit!” He bellows after you, much closer than you expected it to be to your absolute horror.

In a matter of seconds, the collar of your shirt is hauled back with startling force, choking you before you crash backward onto the forest floor. You shove past the pain surging in the back of your head and scramble to get back on your feet when a large boot slams into your chest and pins you to the ground. The weight behind it has you struggling to breathe, clawing at the obstruction in frenzied desperation.

“Shouldn’t’ve run, little rabbit,” the man warns a tad too late. You see him shake his head in disappointment as he raises the butt of his rifle. You freeze in terror as it races down toward your head—

And then everything goes black.

—

Your surroundings fade back in incrementally, battling head-on with the splitting headache burgeoning in your skull. Your drooping head lifts to find both of your hands cuffed to durable but weathered iron hoops embedded in the wall. Your mouth absorbs your drool as rapidly as it’s produced from the cloth shoved into it. You can taste a tang on the fabric—the taste of you, you recognize with a twinge of horror. Your panties. Secured in your mouth and prevented from expulsion by a thick rope knotted at the back of your head.

And you’re naked.

Seated on the filthy, unforgiving floorboards and bound to the walls of a dismal log cabin, furnished with scarcity. A splintered wooden dining table with a hunting rifle strewn atop it. Two spindly chairs. A lumpy floral upholstered couch that has seen much better days positioned in front of a squat coffee table littered with newspapers and empty beer cans.

An ill-kempt kitchenette adorns one end of the space, a blood-encrusted butcher’s knife lying carelessly on the counter with a red-stained tea towel and various other sinister-looking paraphernalia.

And then there’s that man. Back resting against the front door with his arms across his chest, sizing you up.

“Afternoon,” He grunts.

The panic sets in and you yank uselessly at your bonds, screaming against your gag, propping your bare feet under you in a feeble attempt at leverage.

The man laughs, pushing himself off the door and strolling lazily toward you. “Don’t tire yourself out, now. I like ‘em a little fiery. Struggle too much and the flame tends to peter out right quick.”

You ignore him, poised in a crouch and pulling all your weight forward with a muted grunt, praying the rusted tethers choose right now to give out.

“Gonna pull those arms right out their sockets, little rabbit. Ain’t gonna do you a lick’a good, I assure ya.”

The unbothered tenor of his voice and the amused expression on his face persuades you that he’s probably right. You crumble back against the wall, hands hanging limp in the air at the wrists and your feet out in front—just in case you’re presented with an opportunity to get a good kick in. What you would do after that you have no idea, but you have to do something.

“That’s better,” The man placates, dropping into a crouch just out of your reach. “I’d say don’t get your panties in a twist, but…guess I already did that for ya, didn’t I?” He laughs to himself at his little joke, stroking his bottom lip with a meaty thumb. “My god, you’re a beautiful thing, aren’t ya?”

You meet him with a glare, jaw shifting uncomfortably as it begins to ache from being stuffed open.

“You want the gag out?”

For a second you consider being stubborn, but decide it won’t get you anywhere. So you give a single nod.

“Alright, but let me be real fuckin’ clear,” he says, reaching behind him to pull a small revolver from his waistband and brandishing it haphazardly as he gesticulates with his hands. “If you scream, you die. Point blank. But if you behave for me, all nice and pretty-like, you may just walk out of this alive. And on two intact feet, even.” He weighs those words for a moment, scratching at the side of his head with the muzzle of the gun, before amending, “Well…maybe mostly intact. Guess it depends on how good y’are for me.”

A small whimper escapes you at the implication.

“We clear?” He asks with raised brows. “Scream, die. Quiet, live. Can’t be more simple’n that.”

His words illuminate a tiny crawl space in your brain, a single phrase you’d heard once before: Calm people live; panicked people die.

You focus on your breathing, taking one large inhale in, then out through your nose. You look him straight in the eyes and nod your understanding.

He shifts closer to you onto one knee. You feel the cool metal of his revolver at your temple and the click of the safety disengaging as he reminds you one more time, “Don’t scream, little rabbit.”

You give him the gentlest, briefest of nods, pleading with your eyes.

He finagles a butterfly knife between the fabric of your underwear and the rope, oriented so one edge of the blade rests against the restraint and the other edge kisses your lips with a soft, yet alarming sharpness. He saws through the rope swiftly, only just shy of slicing your plump, tender lips by the forward tilt of the knife. The severed rope thumps to the ground and he tentatively slips the makeshift gag from your parched mouth.

When you remain dutifully silent for what he deems a suitable amount of time, the gun uncocks and withdraws as he secures it again at the back of his jeans. Your eyes track his movements as he handles your saliva-damp panties, twisting and wrapping them tight around his wrist through the holes like some sadistic bracelet—like a trophy of his conquest.

You will not die another conquest. Another trophy.

You will make it out of this.

No matter what his demands.

“Very good. Obedient little thing. That bodes well for you,” The man muses. Using the flat of his knife he tilts up your chin, the point of it dimpling the supple skin there. You don’t feel any blood pooling quite yet, but you know the threat of it looms by his own design. “Now, tell me, what were you doin’ out there in the wilderness all by your lonesome?”

Calm. Don’t panic. Think.

“I’m not by myself,” You assert, cramming every iota of even-keeled sincerity you can muster into your words. “I’m with my family.”

He nods with a hint of skepticism on his face. “Are ya now? Because I can’t recall seein’ nobody else at that cute little campsite of yours.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. “You…you’ve been watching me?”

He smirks, reveling in the fear exuded in your eyes. “Couldn’t help myself. Beautiful thing like you. Took one look and knew I had to have ya, little rabbit.”

“They’re gonna come looking for me,” You spout with wavering confidence.

The man's smile broadens mockingly. “No, they’re not. No one is. And we both know it.”

“Mister,” You whimper helplessly, “Please let me go.”

The man’s eyes dip to his knife as he scrapes it featherlight on the underside of your chin, stopping when you’re precariously balanced on the tip. Your bottom lip quivers as you force your chin to remain upwards, to not sink back down onto it and accidentally impale yourself.

“Call me Joel,” The man offers conversationally. “Feels a bit more…personal. Don’t you think?”

“J-J-Joel,” You whisper breathily, “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this.”

He cocks his head as if in thought. “Hmm. I don’t know. Haven’t proven yourself very useful to me yet. Not really any reason to just let ya hop on back into the woods.”

“W-what can I do?” You swallow nervously. “I’ll do what you want. Just please don’t hurt me.”

Joel chuckles, bearing upward on the knife just enough to gather a pearl of blood on the tip and then gliding the blade onto his tongue obscenely, the vibrant liquid spiderwebbing through the crevices of his tastebuds.

He licks his lips, smearing your diluted blood across the upper one and then sucking it clean in his mouth again.

He leans forward, and you feel his breath wash over your face as he orders you with a slight smirk, “Alright. Beg.”

You do everything within your power to keep even a single tear from falling.

“Please. Please, Joel. Please, don’t hurt me.”

Joel’s gaze grows darker as he takes in the full expanse of your body at his mercy. “What are you willin’ to trade for that, little rabbit?”

A lump forms in your throat as you come to terms with what he’s suggesting. In the back of your mind, you knew exactly what he’d wanted with you when you woke up naked. You haven’t had adequate time to parse out all the possibilities of what he could have already done with you unconscious. He could have done any number of things with your body. Everything seems okay between your legs from what you can feel, but you would never be able to tell without a doubt.

You quickly sift through your options as well as you can. You already tried to fight the restraints, and that was a complete bust. It’s not like a kidnapper would be lax about that–the restraint is the most vital part of an abduction. You highly doubt you could knock him out, and even if you did, there is no guarantee he even has the keys on him.

Not to mention you are in the middle of fucking nowhere, with no way to find your way back. You haven’t spotted any sort of radio device in the cabin yet, so he was likely lying about that, just like he was about everything else. If you were going to escape, you’d have to think of a plan over a more prolonged period of time.

As horrendous a thought as it is, getting him on your side might be the best option. And what better way to get a man on your side than…

You take a deep breath of resignation. With delicate, careful movements, you slowly bend your knees up and spread your feet out.

A hungry groan rumbles in Joel’s chest as he takes in the sight you’re willingly presenting. “Such a pretty little flower you got there, little rabbit. Almost went ahead and just took it while you were out cold.”

That unspoken fear that he may have already indulged himself in your body starts to ebb away reluctantly. Logically, you know what you’re offering him really isn’t much better in the grand scheme. Neither option is strictly consensual. But you think you’d rather know. Rather see what he’s doing with you. For you, that’s enough to warrant a smidge of relief.

You spread wider for him, the folds of your cunt parting open almost in welcome.

“Fuck,” He breathes, wetting his lips. “Them petals just blossomin’ right open for me, aren’t they, little rabbit?”

“Yes, Joel,” You utter shakily, wordlessly begging your insides to cooperate with your intentions despite the terror running rampant through them. You urge yourself to try and look past the man Joel is presenting himself to be. To study his face. His…tragically handsome face. A face that in any other context would’ve had you slick and ready long before now.

What a sick, twisted shame.

But it does start to work. You can feel your pussy preparing itself for the impending torture you’re threatening it with. You send a silent prayer to…whatever the fuck is out there. God, Aphrodite, Venus, the universe—it doesn’t fucking matter.

Joel stows his knife in his back pocket and slips a rough-hewn hand under your knee to maintain your spread for him.

“Naughty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ all soaked at the thought’a me. What a fuckin’ trashy slut. Offerin’ up your whore pussy in exchange for your life.” Joel grabs his revolver and nudges your chin up with it, digging the muzzle into your flesh as he moves his other hand from your leg to grip the back of your head and keep you still. “Your pussy worth it? Hmm? ‘M I gonna see God when I fuck it?”

“Yes,” You whimper desperately, not daring to break eye contact with him as you lose the battle with your tears and one spills over. “It’s worth it.”

Joel leans into you, close enough that you think he might press a kiss to your lips. But he dips down to your ear instead, reinforcing the indentation of the gun under your chin, and whispers, “You best pray it is. Because either way, I’m gonna fuck that pretty little flower until it wilts. And then we’ll see what it bought ya.”

His breath puffs suffocatingly over your skin as the gun travels down the column of your neck, caressing down the valley of your breasts. He tweaks your nipples using the curve of the muzzle opening, rousing them to hard points. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he continues his route down over your stomach. Your breathing hitches when the barrel skims your pubic mound and he halts.

“Are you scared, little rabbit?”

You clear your throat. “No.”

It comes out much stronger than you actually feel.

Your blood chills under your flesh as you hear him pull the hammer down on the gun once more to cock it, brushing against your mound again with the movement. Then you hear Joel’s taunting lilt in your ear, “How about now?”

Okay, you think. He wants you scared. Good to know.

Pretending not to be terrified was exhausting your already low emotional tank anyway.

“Y-y-yes, Joel. I’m fucking scared.”

He exhales a laugh through his nose as he prods the gun at the top of your outer lips. “Stupid cunt bitches like you are always so much tighter when you’re scared. More scared you are, the tighter you get. Scare ya enough, it’s like a fuckin’ vice around your cock. Ain’t nothin’ else like it.”

“I’ll be so tight, Joel,” you promise as another tear breaks free. “So fucking tight for you.”

Joel hums as the metal slides between your folds and he works it up and down with your manifested wetness. “Look at the way those lips hug my gun. So hungry for it.”

You shiver as the metal gradually warms with your own body heat, like it’s leaching it out of you. Your teeth begin to chatter uncontrollably, and you try to grit them in response. The slick weapon starts to move in tight circles on your clit, teasing you in a way that you can’t resist whining over, the danger of the act going foggy in your brain. The gun travels further south, nudging at your entrance with ominous promise.

“Should I fuck you with it, little rabbit? Should I make this little cunt eat my gun? Make you cream all over the bullets inside?”

A sob filters through your teeth as reality sets back in. He is pleasuring you with a loaded fucking gun. One misstep and you’re a fucking goner. Joel appears to be intimately familiar with this firearm, so you doubt anything he does will be an accident. But this man would not spare you a second thought if his finger slipped. He’d probably just unload into your corpse. Both his cum and his bullets. The thought has you in a full-body shiver. So you beg, “I need your cock, please, Joel. Don’t wanna wait.”

He breathes another laugh. “Yeah? Sounds more like you’re just tryin’ to save your own ass by kissin’ mine.”

You shake your head emphatically as you shudder. “No, no, I’m not. I just want you.”

“Well, lucky for you,” Joel mutters, pressing the muzzle flush to your opening, “I consider my gun to be a part of me.”

With a damning final push, the barrel breaches your hole, and a pained whimper slips out of you.

His teeth scrape your earlobe as he works his weapon inside you with agonizing thrusts. “Little cunt looks so fucking pretty wrapped around my piece. Loves the way I fuck it, don’t it?”

You allow your mind to drift away as best it can to minimize the fear coursing through you. You refrain from any sudden movements, languidly turning your head to bite into your upheld arm for some kind of grounding stimulus.

“Shit, you can barely take it, can you? I can feel this little pussy purrin’.” He pulls the gun out of you with a lewd squelch and rubs circles with it around your clit. Your hips buck into it with a groan and he chuckles. “Jesus, that's pretty. ‘F I gave a fuck about you, I could make you come all over it easy. So responsive.”

He enters you again with an increased pace and your head falls against the wall behind you with a pitiful moan.

“Yeah, fuckin’ take it. Squeeze that run-through whore cunt around my gun.”

You might actually squeeze around it if you weren’t acutely aware of the threat, of any rogue move setting it off inside you. The good news is it would be over fast. The bad news…well, you would be over.

And there’s so much fucking more that you want to do.

So if some deranged psychopath is offering you life for taking his loaded gun up your pussy, you’re gonna shut the fuck up and take it. But you’re not about to tempt fate any further.

“Oh, fuck, look at that,” Joel groans, gazing down at the barrel disappearing into your hole and reappearing with more graphic, pearly white smears on every withdrawal. “Knew you’d cream all over this fuckin’ gun for me. A true whore’ll cream over any fuckin’ thing you shove inside her.”

You clench your eyes shut as a wave of shame splashes over you. Your body reacting this way is mortifying. You do feel like a whore, bargaining with your pussy. But what’s worse is your pussy actually enjoying it.

“Fuck it, I gotta get my cock wet with that nasty little cunt,” He growls. Any chance at relief is short-lived when he pulls the glistening metal from your dripping hole and jams it against your lips. “Suck it off. Can’t have your whore juice all over my best gun.”

You whine as you reluctantly part your lips. He watches in lust as the barrel slides into your mouth and you close your lips around it.

“Suck it like a cock, little rabbit.”

More tears track your cheeks as you bob your head, sucking your slick off the foreboding steel. His lips curl in a snarl as he rams it in and out, gagging you with it. Joel scoffs in ridicule at your reaction, muttering something about “the whore needing more practice.”

You feel like you truly could cry in gratitude as Joel extracts the gun and uncocks it, tossing it just out of your reach. He pulls his knife out of his back pocket and holds it in his teeth as he shucks off his pants and boxers.

When his cock springs free, you instantly assess that it’s a perfect reflection of him—hardened, angry, imposing, and large.

You say another prayer for your pussy.

“Let’s see what this little fuckhole can do for me, huh?” Joel seats himself on the floor and maneuvers you until you’re straddling his lap, trembling legs hovering you over his cock with your sore arms still secure to the wall.

In a Hail Mary, you beg again, “Joel…could you please…my arms…”

Joel narrows his eyes at you with a warning. “I’m not fuckin’ stupid, you little bitch. Do not mistake my generosity for a lack of perception.”

Yeah. Okay. That was never going to work.

Joel points a dirty finger at you. “And you make no mistake, I am bein’ mighty generous with you. ‘F you weren’t so pretty, you’d be slit open stem to stern on that fuckin’ table back there right now,” he says, gesturing to the dining table behind you.

Your eyes bulge in terror as bile rises in your throat, gaze flitting over to the crusty knife on the counter, undoubtedly painted with his previous victim.

“Oh, not with that one, little rabbit,” Joel interjects when he follows your gaze. “That one’s for…disposal. No, this one's for cuttin’.” He flicks open the knife in his hand. The spotless blade catches in the cracks of light through the boarded-up windows as he rotates it for your viewing.

“This here’s Alice. I think the two of you have met,” He drawls, dragging the flat of “Alice” against your cheek.

“Yeah,” you gulp, staying stock still under his ministrations, “we’ve met.”

“Now, Alice is pretty well-behaved when I ask her to be. You gonna give her any more reason not to behave so well?”

“No, Joel. You have been very generous. You…you deserve this pussy,” you insist, lowering your hips to grind your cunt along the length of his hard cock that’s dripping precome onto his beer belly where his flannel has rucked up.

“Mmm, that certainly is a wet little cunt, isn’t it? You’re not just a rabbit, you’re a goddamn playboy bunny. Throwin’ yourself at me like I’m gonna fuck solid gold up your greedy whore pussy.”

You allow a gratuitous moan to grace your lips as you continue to roll your hips onto him.

“Jesus, you know how to work a cock, don’t you, bunny? Not sure you’re gonna be tight enough for me with all the dick you’ve taken. Probably slip right out.”

“I’m tight, I promise, Joel,” You moan out for him. “Put it in and you’ll see. So tight for you.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Joel’s knife whips around, lining up with your jugular, and you freeze.

“Are you under the impression that you’re callin’ the shots here, little rabbit? Because you do not fuckin’ tell me what to do. And the next time you do…” Joel contorts his face into a concentrated show of rage and jerks the knife across your neck, a hair's breadth away from your actual skin. A terrified squeak bursts forth from your–thankfully still intact–throat in reflex, the sound dying out with a quiver when you realize you’re still…alive.

“I’m sorry,” you mouth at him, voice losing all projection from the flicker of terror. “I won’t.”

Leaving you no room to recover, Joel is positioning his cock at your hole and plunging inside with a feral grunt. “Fuck yeah, so fuckin’ tight. I can feel that fear gripping my cock, little rabbit. Mmm. Fuckin’ terrified little slut.”

His cock is fucking unfathomable. You’re pretty sure you go almost numb the second he splits you open and starts pounding into you. You cut off your own scream, clamping your mouth shut as you struggle to keep quiet.

The hand still gripping the handle of his knife snatches at your jaw, squeezing the flesh of your cheeks in his fingers until your mouth pops open. “No, you fuckin’ scream for me, bunny. You tell me how hard I’m ripping apart this cunt.”

“You—you said…” You garble out through your deformed lips.

Joel thrusts up into you punishingly, drawing a scream from you. “I just don’t like those high-pitched screeches all you pathetic fuckin’ bitches make when you’re cryin’ for help. Sure as hell ain’t ‘cause anyone’ll hear ya.” Joel slams into you again and tightens his grip on your jaw, the blade of his knife burrowing into your cheek with the strength behind it. “Cause, trust me. Ain’t nobody hearin’ you scream all the way out here, little rabbit. You’re mine. ‘Til I say I’m done with you.”

And then he’s jackhammering up into your pussy with a firm hold still on your face, snarling and grunting as he completely obliterates you from the inside. Warm blood trickles down your cheek and over Joel’s fingers as you moan and yell for him, peppering his name within your cries to try and win whatever you can with it. He seems to like it, his name tearing out through your throat as he defiles you.

Joel’s knife clatters to the floor as he buries his filthy nails of both hands into your hips, pulling you down onto his cock as he fucks up into you. “Useless fuckin’ whore. Only good for takin’ this cock. Maybe I’ll just leave you tied up, fuck you ‘til your tight snatch is all stretched out and used up and fuckin’ worthless, then throw you to the wolves.”

And as fucked up as it sounds, that’s almost a glimmer of hope. That might be your best-case scenario at this point. Broken, used, abused…but still fucking alive.

So you let out a whine like that’s what you want. Like your deepest desire is for him to violate your holes until he’s through with you. And pray, pray to what the fuck ever, that he leaves you to the wolves.

If you’re good for him, maybe he’ll even give you a knife.

Your wanton cry has him stuttering and swearing as he hammers you with his cock until he’s growling his release, spilling himself deep inside of you for the first time instead of forcing you to spill yourself out for him.

Your blood is still drying on his knuckles, on your skin, as he pulls out. His spend chases after him, pooling onto his crotch. The back of his head hits the dirty wood floor with a heavy sigh as he strokes his bloody fingers along your thigh.

“I really just might keep you, little rabbit. Been gettin’ a little lonely out here. Be nice to have a warm cum dumpster at home that I don’t gotta go huntin’ for.”

“I could…” You mutter softly, a fresh puddle of said substance running out of your fucked hole, “I could be that. I could be a good…cum dumpster for you.”

He lifts his head to study you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Until you’re…you’re done with me. Then maybe you just…don’t kill me? That’s all I ask, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. Just…don’t kill me.”

“Hmm,” Joel ponders as he retrieves his knife and flicks it open and closed cyclically. “You gonna let me wear out these holes of yours and not complain? Not fight?”

“Yes.”

He purses his lips for a second and then nods, manhandling you off of him while he stands and pulls his clothes on, not even bothering to wipe off the mess you made of his abdomen.

Once dressed, he just stands there with a propped knee and his hands on his hips, scanning over you probingly. Finally, he grumbles, “I’ll think about it.”

He swipes his gun off the floor and delivers a firm but forgiving couple of smacks to your marred cheek with the barrel, in a way that’s almost…affectionate? He tugs your panties from his wrist and shoves them back into your mouth, making practiced work of knotting a new length of rope back around your head to secure the gag. This time, he ties your ankles together too for good measure.

He leaves you naked, gagged, and bound. Just as you awoke to find yourself anywhere from thirty minutes to a lifetime ago. He swings a worn canvas satchel onto his back from its place slumped by the doorway along with his rifle from the table. Before he slams the cabin door behind him, he winks at you over his shoulder.

“Don’t hop off nowhere, little rabbit.”

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gothcsz · 6 days

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Dusk | No outbreak!Joel x Fem!Reader | ~8.2k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You become a park ranger at a national park in California after breaking up with your ex. You meet Joel Miller, the chief ranger there, and find yourself absolutely smitten over him.

Tags: smut, attempted assault (not by joel), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), no use of Y/N, reader is a professor, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: i wrote this during a long car ride in my notes app so i’m NAWT liable for any mistakes xoxo this is also my first attempt at writing joel so i hope i did our man justice 😋

You’ve always been an outdoorsy person. Girl scout as a child, camp counselor in your teens, camp manager in your twenties— and not to mention the plenty of solo camping trips you’ve taken and the amount of hikes you’ve trekked.

Then there’s your full time job as wildlife biology professor in New York.

Being out in nature is the only time you ever feel true, serene peace. Who would have thought? It keeps you healthy and entertained. Most of the hobbies you indulge in and skills you have revolve around being outdoors.

Becoming a park ranger had never been part of your plans, per se, but after a really messy engagement that ended with the wedding being postponed indefinitely and then being overwhelmed by your friends and family afterwards; you needed an out.

The offer to become a ranger at a national park in California came at the perfect time. You didn’t hesitate to sign on to the job, especially since it was being offered to you by a long-time close friend you had met online through a Hiking Tips & More! Facebook group.

So you packed as much as you needed and booked your flight from upstate New York to California.

You’d be stationed there for the summer and the pay was decent. Whatever, you weren’t too hung up on that detail since you are financially stable enough to take the pay cut for the next few months.

After going through the motions of getting registered and settling in at the local lodge themed motel, you use an afternoon to just take everything in. You’ve never had the pleasure to visit any of the parks on the west coast so this experience is extra exciting for you.

You’re already prepared yourself to do some birdwatching and to brush up on your botany knowledge.

Before you are assigned a location and station, it’s required for you to attend an orientation of sorts for the new cohort of rangers working for the summer.

The intent is to go over routines and day-to-day tasks. Most of the job you already know from when you got your certification before going to graduate school. You thought you would have the time to become a ranger then, but life had humbled you quickly so the certification was never put to use.

Until now.

It’s around 7 in the morning when you arrive to the meeting room at the national park. Others linger around but you make a beeline towards the coffee machine; absolutely needing your caffeine fix for the morning.

Definitely don’t forget to bring that with you. You went quite feral without caffeine— god forbid any man, or bear, come across you before you’ve had your cup of coffee.

You fix the drink as you always take it, realizing you’ve just emptied what was left in the glass container.

Not wanting to be the asshole that left everyone else with no coffee, you rummage through the cupboards until you find the container with the grounds and you brew more, doing your good deed for the day.

Blowing against the mug before bringing it up to your lips, you savor the taste and let out a content hum.

“Was that the last of it?”

Your attention immediately flits up at the sound of the deep, southern drawl that’s like honey to your ears.

Before you stands a unit of a man: tall, broad— rugged. He’s obviously older, the salt and pepper colors of his hair and beard complimenting both smile lines and frown wrinkles on his face.

Oh, he’s handsome as hell.

“U-Uh no— yes… Well I just put more in. Should be ready soon.” You flash him a small smile, mentally kicking yourself for stuttering like a fool. Suddenly, you’re aware of how unflattering the park ranger uniform looks on you.

He can’t say the same, clearly, since the collared shirt hugs him snugly across his triceps and shoulders, stretching across the broadness of his chest. There’s a few pins attached to his front, and that’s when you catch the golden glint of his metallic name tag.

J. Miller

He just nods in response, his gaze fixated on you, “I recognize most people here.… but not you. This your first rodeo as a ranger?”

Now it’s your turn to nod, “Yes, but not my first rodeo in the field. I got my certification a few years back but never got the chance to use it.”

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the smell of the fresh brewing coffee hitting your senses. “Ah— I see. Figured you were new. I woulda definitely remembered a pretty face like yours.”

This has you blushing, hard, and biting down softly on your bottom lip. You can’t remember the last time someone had so openly flirted with you like this.

Your asshole of an ex-fiance quit complimenting you shortly after getting engaged. Come to think of it, most of the problems and red flags started happening after you got the ring on your finger.

Ugh, focus! You scold yourself. You have an attractive, out of your league man flirting with you and you’re here thinking of your shitty ex.

“Thank you. I think I would have remembered a face like mine, too.” You’ve never been good at receiving compliments, so you do what you do best and use humor to navigate the conversation.

He chuckles and immediately you’re wanting to hear more of that sound. It’s deep yet comforting and now you’re wondering if you’re being a weirdo for being attracted to a man’s laugh (amongst other things) like this.

You make small talk standing by the coffee machine as more people begin to trickle in. He tells you his name is Joel and that he’s been a park ranger for twenty years and a chief ranger for ten. He has a daughter named Sarah who’s in college further down in the state and you can tell just how much he cares about her by the way he dotes on her.

No mention of a wife or girlfriend, though. You don’t see a band on his finger… there’s no way this man is just walking around single like this.

In return, you tell him your name and some of your background (sans the trainwreck engagement) and he’s fascinated by the fact that you’re a professor.

His interest in you has butterflies fluttering in your stomach and it doesn’t help that he’s got the sexiest little Texan accent you’ve ever heard. Each word sending you deeper and deeper into this crush that has blossomed seemingly out of nowhere for a man you’ve just met.

Amidst the conversation that flows naturally between the two of you, there’s an aura of flirtation and attraction that the both of you seem to be reciprocating. Or at least you are. Hopefully you’re not reading this wrong.

Please don’t let me be reading this wrong.

It’s not until you both have finished your coffee that everyone arrives and he has to excuse himself.

Apparently he’s leading the orientation.

The entire time he’s giving his presentations and demonstrating safety procedures, you can’t help but ogle him.

He fits this career so well with how carries himself. Confident, steadfast, knowledgeable, fucking sexy. You just want to run your fingers through his curly, thick hair and tug on it while you ride the daylights out of him.

This sudden intrusive thought has you clenching your thighs together and that’s enough to get your focus back on the meeting and not how you want him to demolish you.

His forearm flexes, the veins protruding, as he demonstrates how to tie a tight and secure knot; his fingers moving dexterously against the rope.

Damn your dry spell and this attractive ass man.

The orientation concludes with everyone getting their assigned areas and tasks. Your folder is labeled 125.

“We’re on a two week on two week off schedule. You’ll spend two weeks manning your station before there’s a shift change. Daily tasks will be given during mornin’ check-ins along with any other pivotal information. Each camp has a binder with any additional information you will need alongside a long list of phone numbers and radio codes in case somethin’ goes awry. First shift report back here at 6 sharp tomorrow mornin’. Any further questions can be directed towards me or my partner Tommy.”

“Brother,” Tommy, who has been leaning against the wall this entire time, interjects with a playful grin and this has your brows quirking in both amusement and intrigue. He works with his younger brother. How cute.

“Yeah, yeah. That too.” Though it’s gruff, you can clearly pick up the lighthearted tone in Joel’s reply.

You want to stick around and talk with him some more, but you don’t want to come off as annoying so the second you’re all dismissed— you’re the first to be out of the room.

It’s not till you’re further down the hall that you hear your name being called out and turn to see Joel lightly jogging to catch up.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” You ask teasingly and you catch the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Not at all. Just wanted to make sure you were okay with your assignment.” You hadn’t even looked at the folder that he had passed to you during the meeting. It had all the information about your post.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You open the file and see a small map with your area circled in red sharpie. You see the surnames of all the other park rangers littered about on the page; and then you see Miller written by the fire lookout closest to yours.

“I gave you a smaller area since it’s your first time out here and all,” He scratches at his jaw, as if he’s almost nervous to be telling you this, “Once you get the hang of it, which ‘m sure will be in no time, I’ll put ya somewhere more… challengin’.”

It’s sweet, this gesture of his. Easing you into the job. If it had been anyone else, you would have defended your skillset and wit and demanded to be put somewhere ‘challenging’, but since it’s Joel you don’t think twice about it.

“Sounds like a plan. Thanks for this.” You smile up at him as you close the folder and he matches the expression, making him look boyish as his sweet brown eyes catch yours.

“No problem, darlin’. See you tomorrow mornin’?”

Or we can go back to my motel room, get to know each other a little bit better?

“See you tomorrow morning.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

You finish packing the rest of your things before heading out for your first shift on the job.

Taking one last look at yourself in the mirror, you straighten out your uniform and fix your neatly braided hair before exiting the stuffy motel room.

You wouldn’t be so hung up on your appearance had it not been for the attractive DILF that’s suddenly overtaken every inch of your mind.

You haven’t stopped thinking about him since meeting him yesterday. He seems so sweet and kind; but also with a ruggedness that makes you wonder what kind of lover he is.

Is he a giver or does he only focus on getting himself off? Does he bite and leave marks? Does he prefer his women being bent over or on top of him?

Yeah, you definitely need to go outside and touch some grass.

This entire experience feels like a new beginning, a chance to reinvent yourself before flying back home and starting the new semester.

Your cab takes longer than expected to arrive at the motel, which in turn makes you late to showing up at the meeting spot.

When you burst through the doors, breathing heavily, your heart sinks at the sight of an empty room and you berate yourself for not allotting extra time for mishaps.

“Thought you got cold feet.”

You jump in your spot and whip around to face the handsome jump scare.

Joel is leaning against the counter on the back wall, arms crossed over his chest making the fabric of his button up shirt stretch obscenely over his toned upper body.

“Can’t be too jumpy out in the woods, darlin’. ‘S how you get got.”

“Fuck— sorry. My cab ran late, which isn’t an excuse for my tardiness but—”

He chuckles with a shake of his head and that has the rest of your words hitching in your throat.

“Relax, s’okay. All is right. Everyone else is already situated out there. Figured I’d hang back in case you showed. Didn’t really think you’d bail. Don’t seem like the type.”

You’re relieved, to say the least, that he’s taking mercy on you despite not liking the fact that he has to.

You’re a professional, running late is out of character for you. Even if it was due to a circumstance you couldn’t control.

You let your shoulders drop, pairing the action with a soft sigh. “Thank you. It won’t happen again. I’m more than ready to start the day.”

He studies you for a brief moment with an unreadable expression and it makes you self conscious. Is there something on my face? Is my hair sticking out somewhere?

“Okay. C’mon, let me drive you to your station.” He pushes himself off the counter and you follow him out of the cabin-styled building and to his ranger truck that has the park’s name printed on it in bold letters.

“Nice ride.” You say as you slide into the cab of the truck, setting your large backpack in the back seat.

He mutters out a brief thanks before starting the vehicle and pulling out into the rocky terrain of the park.

You can’t help the look of awe on your face as you stick your head out of the rolled down window to take in the view.

The picturesque peak of the mountain ranges surrounded by lush greenery is breathtaking and it only makes you more excited to have some alone time in the midst of it all.

What you don’t see, though, is the way Joel keeps stealing glances at you. He thinks you’re so beautiful, especially with how entranced you are by the natural setting.

You finally make it to the small area of your camp and he helps you settle in to the small structure that’ll be your home for the next two weeks.

It consists of a twin bed, bedside table, a small desk with your equipment on it and a lamp.

Very home-y. You really only got the place for the view.

“Thanks for the ride… and for waiting for me back there.” You tell him, adjusting the backpack strap against your shoulder.

“S’not a problem at all. I’m posted up a few miles north so that makes us neighbors.”

“Well, if I need some sugar or something— I’ll make sure to stop by.” You tease and this gets a chuckle out of him which has your heart soaring.

“Alright, sugar, you radio me or anyone else if you need anythin’’.”

“I will.”

⛰️ 🏕️ 🪓 🐻 ☀️

The first week goes by like a breeze. You spend most of your days hiking around your assigned area to make sure everything is as normal as it can be out here.

You tend to your daily tasks, listening along to your audiobooks. Taking in the scenery. You even find the time to explore some of the various native flowers and plants that bloom here.

It’s peaceful and exactly what you needed.

You come to discover that while you were already attracted to the sound of Joel’s deep, honeyed southern voice; you were even more attracted to it over the distortion of the radio.

Every morning you’re greeted by it during task assignments and when he gives the weather forecast for the day.

Every afternoon you hear it when he checks-in through the walkie talkie.

Every night you hear it when he does roll call to make sure everyone is alright and present.

Those are the only times you’re able to really communicate with him. You’re both so busy dealing with the job during the day then bone tired by night to really make anything out of the attraction that lingers.

And boy does it linger. You’ve never been this worked up over a man… like ever. Even with your ex the infatuation had never been this intense.

The sex with him was fine. Normal. Vanilla. The lovers you had before him were all a variation of the same thing.

So the bar was in hell— literally. That’s probably why you’re so obsessed with wanting Joel Miller to fucking destroy you.

You’re on the way back to your camp for the day when you come across a clearing, four men camping out of various tents.

“Park ranger here. Just making my rounds. Are you guys well?”

You smile politely at them, watching as they eye you up and down then suddenly— you’re feeling uncomfortable in your own skin.

“Better now. You out here all alone, sweetheart?”

You clock the pervy tone in his voice immediately, clenching your jaw but trying to keep an aura of professionalism.

You’re required to carry a gun and a taser, for obvious reasons, but not once did you ever think you would actually have to use it.

Yet with the way these men are staring at you like you’re a piece of meat— you’re really resisting the urge to let your hand hover over the weapon.

“Heading back to my partner now. You guys have a good night.” You lie with a forced smile that pains your lips as you turn from them, wanting to put as much distance between you and them as you can.

No way are you revealing that you are, in fact, alone with the nearest help being miles away.

“Oh c’mon, baby, stay a while.” A different man calls out and you can hear them following after you.

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of them actually following you all the way back to your camp. Your location is marked on most of the maps that are posted around the area, in case of emergencies, but now you’re hyperaware that they could just go look for it and find you in no time.

Swallowing thickly, you trek forward and continue to ignore their catcalls until suddenly one of them has got a tight hold on your forearm and yanks you back against his chest.

You let out a squeal of surprise mixed with fear. Your only saving grace right now is your giant backpack since it keeps you from being flush against him.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggle against his iron grip, trying to use your free hand to reach for your weapon but he twists the arm he does have in his hold, and it renders you immobile.

You wince at the pain, adrenaline coursing through you as you hear his three other friends join and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what demise you’re about to meet.

You’re so fucking afraid so you channel that fear to kickstart your flight or fight— choosing both as you lift your foot then slam it down harshly against your captors foot.

Thank god for these heavy ass hiking boots.

The hit does enough to loosen his grip on you just enough for you to shimmy out; using the fleeting seconds you have to knee him in the balls before you take off running.

You hear them screaming profanities at you, calling you a “cunt” “bitch” “whore” amongst many other things. They’re relentless as you hear twigs snapping and leaves crushing beneath their running footsteps.

Your backpack is hindering you at this point so you unbuckle the straps that run across your chest and discard of it quickly, changing course to try and throw them off your trail.

You don’t know how long you run or where you run to, now completely lost as the last hint of sunlight disappears behind the mountains.

You don’t hear anyone chasing after you anymore but you’re not stupid enough to stop and check, so you do the next best thing which is to change your route again before finding solace behind a Giant sequoia tree.

Taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you slowly peek around the hefty trunk to see if they were still chasing after you.

They’re not.

Allowing yourself to feel relief, you lean back against the tree and close your eyes to keep the tears away.

Don’t cry— not now. You’re not completely out of the woods yet… ha!

You shake your head at your conscience, hands shaking as they reach for your walkie talkie to seek the help of the only man you want around you right now.

“Call to 121 from 125. Over.”

“121 to 125 on frequency 9. Over.”

You switch frequencies and immediately break procedure once you know it’s just you and Joel on the call.

“J-Joel? Do you copy? Over.”

Immediately he responds, worry evident in his voice.

“What’s goin’ on? Are you okay? Over.”

You take a second to calm down so you can concisely explain your situation.

“I was chased through the forest by a group of campers. I got disoriented, lost my bag, and now I-I’m lost and it’s so dark out. I need you to come find me. Or lead me to you… Over.”

“What do you see around you? Any distinctive characteristics? A trail? Over.”

He’s on high alert, getting methodical and procedural to suppress the rage he feels as your voice garbles through his walkie talkie.

You look around in desperation, flashlight in hand as you try to find anything that’ll pinpoint your location.

Nothing.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you weigh your options. You can walk around until you find something useful or stay put and wait who knows how long for Joel or those band of heathens to get to you.

He urgently calls your name through the walkie talkie when you don’t respond in a timely manner and you quickly snap out of your thoughts.

“N-No. Nothing. I’m going to keep walking until I find something. Over.”

“No. You have to stay put. ‘S dangerous out here at night. I’ll come to you. Over.”

“It’s dangerous during the day, too. I’m going. I’ll reach out to you when I find something… over and out.”

You don’t give him a chance to respond as you turn your walkie off, the batteries were already running low earlier in the day so you have to limit your use on it before you’re left stranded and walkie talkie-less.

There were extra batteries in your backpack… fuck men and their ability to ruin everything.

You walk through the pitch black forest with your chin held high, faking bravery to avoid succumbing to the fear that’s rattling in your bones.

The mosquitos bite at you, insects chirping about, and in the distance you can hear a coyote howl.

If you don’t survive tonight because of men then you won’t survive because of mother nature.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead, your exhaustion slowly catching up to you.

However, your ears perk at a low rumbling noise and your flashlight snaps in the direction in which you think you hear it coming from, your feet carrying you towards the source.

You damn near burst out in tears of joy once you see the large and beautiful waterfall that flows into the river below.

You radio Joel again, skipping the pleasantries and telling him your location.

You plop down on a bench that’s on the trail, overlooking the astounding scenery and finally you let out a sigh of actual relief. What a way to end your first official week as a park ranger.

About twenty minutes later you see his large silhouette booking it towards you, taking in your disheveled appearance once he’s close enough.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, sugar, what the hell happened to you?”

He envelops you in his arms and you finally allow yourself to let a few tears seep out of your eyes and they land on the fabric of his shirt.

His smell, his touch are comforting as all hell and you find yourself melting into his embrace.

You feel safe. Protected.

“Just assholes being assholes. I ditched them, though. Barely. I should’ve been smarter and ran—“

He shushes you as you begin to victim blame yourself, pulling you from his chest so he can get a better look at your figure, trying to see if you were physically hurt.

Thank god you weren’t.

“All that matters now s’that you’re safe and with me, alright? ‘M west of here. ‘Bout a twenty minute hike. Can you make it?”

You can’t help but snort, blushing as his concerned expression flashes with frustration.

You’ve hiked through the Appalachian mountains— you can definitely do a mere twenty minutes. But you understand that he’s just trying to gauge how shaken up you are and is genuinely concerned about you.

“Yeah, I can make it.”

He pulls you into his chest once more and you inhale deeply, taking in his natural musk and how deliciously it pairs with the faintness of his cologne.

“Alright— let’s go.”

His chest rumbles as he speaks and you don’t want to leave the confines of his strong hold but you must. You’re ready to get this day over with.

You spill the details of your hectic predicament on the hike back to the fire tower he is stationed at. You can feel the energy radiating from his broad figure, his anger palpable as you describe the four men who had ganged up on you.

His strong jaw clenches, fists balling at his sides but he remains silent until you’ve finished.

You can only imagine what’s going on through his head… you can’t help but find his irritation alluring.

“If I had to ballpark it, I’d say they were roughly ten minutes north from my station. I know exactly where that clearing is.”

“You’ll stay with me tonight ‘n tomorrow after mornin’ announcements we’ll get back to your neck of the woods ‘n I’ll deal with those assholes myself.”

Your teeth sink in to your lower lip, his statement holding so much conviction that it makes your clit throb.

Then it sinks in: you’re staying the night with him… and you’re all sweaty and gross from the long fucking day you’ve had.

This would have been a much more enticing, ripe, and overall erotic scenario had today’s event not transpired.

“Not trying to sound pampered or anything but do you mind if I shower?”

“How on earth does that make you pampered? ‘S a shower, darlin’, and after the day you had today you need one.”

“You saying that I stink?”

“If the shoe fits…”

You elbow him softly as you both chuckle, not even realizing that you’ve gravitated closer towards one another.

Unlike your station, the fire lookout tower is much bigger and it sits higher up on the mountain. Large windows run all around the structure giving whoever’s inside a full 360° view of this side of the forest.

It’s absolutely stunning. You can only imagine how it looks during the day.

You look out from your spot on the wraparound porch as he unlocks the door then beckons you inside.

Yeah, this place is much nicer than yours. Probably because fire lookout shifts are usually more long term than normal park ranger ones.

There’s a small bathroom— with a shower—- in the far corner, along with a bed and some other miscellaneous furnishings.

Maybe you can sell your old place and move up here. The view is much nicer, anyways.

You laugh to yourself, lost in your own inner monologue and Joel looks at you funny.

“You good?”

Embarrassed slightly, you just nod. “Yeah, just a long day.”

His warm eyes convey the message ‘I understand’ and you instinctively smile.

“Sooo about that shower…”

“Uh, yeah, help yourself. Everythin’ you need should be in there. We get hot water up here so that shouldn’t be an issue. Holler if you need anythin’. Imma try ‘n find you somethin’ to wear.”

You thank him softly, trying not to look too desperate for a hot shower as you cross the room and close the bathroom door behind you.

Letting the shower run, you begin to strip from your clothes, cringing at how grossly and sticky you feel from sweating your ass off all day.

You feel all the tension leaving your body as you step beneath the shower head and the hot droplets of water hit your skin.

You swear this is the best shower you’ve ever taken. Why? Because you peeped Joel’s toiletries in there and decided to use his body wash and shampoo so now you smell like him.

There’s three rhythmic knocks at the door followed by his deep voice.

“Found some clothes. Can I come in ‘n put ‘em by the sink?”

You swallow thickly. Despite there being a shower curtain separating the two of you, you feel nervous about him coming in while you’re naked.

Not because of him but because of you. He’s got you all riled up without even knowing it.

“Or I can leave ‘em out here?”

“It’s fine, Joel, you can come in.”

There’s a hesitant pause before you hear the door opening, then his large shadow passing through and setting the small pile of clothes by the sink.

His eyes fall to the floor where you’ve left your heap of dirty clothes, seeing the feminine printing of your pink underwear peeking from below the khaki material of the shorts you’d been wearing. The matching bra not too far away.

He’s fucked— unbelievably fucked.

Joel hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you first met. Your smile unlike anything he’s ever seen before, your eyes a shade that makes him want to get lost in them forever, your voice a tune he wants stuck in his head all the time.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and that’s quite the statement considering he’s surrounded by breathtaking sights all the time.

He’s crushing hard despite only barely knowing you for a week.

Then there’s that underlying, primal tension that simmers when you get too close. So it doesn’t help that’s he’s getting an eyeful of your discarded garments then is aware that you’re fully naked, smelling like him, on the other side of the shower curtain.

He stands in front of the shower, half tempted to just yank back the material and join you, fully clothed, just to fuck you against the wall.

No, he can’t think like this. Especially after the day you’ve had.

So he pushes those salacious thoughts away before leaving without saying a word.

You held your breath during the entirety of that silent and brief moment there.

You could feel his hesitation, really, and mentally yelled at him to give in to the temptation and have his way with you right here in the shower.

But he doesn’t hear you, obviously, and you begrudgingly finish your shower after he leaves.

You re-enter the main room dressed in an oversized national park tee and a pair of his boxers.

His cock stirs at the sight of you in his clothes and the smell of him on your skin. He has to look away before you catch him staring and label him as a creep.

“S’not much but I made you somethin’ to eat.” He’s at the kitchenette, all the fixings to make a grilled cheese strewn about the tiny area as he holds up a paper plate with your dinner on it.

Your stomach grumbles on cue, as if remembering that you haven’t eaten since lunch.

And just like that shower— the grilled cheese is the best grilled cheese you’ve ever eaten. Not because you were starving; but because Joel had made it for you out of the kindness of his heart.

Your standards are way too low if you think a man making you a grilled cheese sandwich is the most thoughtful thing in the world.

You two finish up quickly and begin getting situated for bed.

He’s being a gentlemen by giving up his bed to you while he takes refuge in his sleeping bag on the opposite side of the room.

You tried to fight him on it (to no avail) and now you’re both wide awake, laying in silence as the night passes by.

You toss and turn on the small bed, all of the sudden not exhausted like you had been on the walk up here. You can hear Joel shuffling around too and you let out a sigh.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice cuts through the darkness and you shake your head before remembering he can’t see you.

“No. I guess I’m still on go mode after everything.”

“Need anythin’ to help you sleep?”

Yeah, you. Just come over here and fuck me one good time—- I’ll sleep like a fucking rock.

You let out a small whine at the fantasy, your brain pulling cruel tricks on you as images of him tying the rope into a knot flash through your mind… they’re suddenly distorted and now he’s tying your wrists to the bedpost with the same adroitness from before.

“Y’okay sugar?”

Too lost in your wet daydream, you hadn’t realized your prolonged silence. Your thighs rub together, your slickness smearing over your folds.

“Just fine.”

Another pregnant pause before you hear him shuffling then his heavy footsteps nearing the bed.

You sit up straight once he’s near, the moonlight pouring in from the large windows cascading over half of his face and he’s got this look in his eyes that make you want to pounce on him.

“Y’sure there ain’t anythin’ I can do to make you feel better?”

His words drip with sensuality, a double entendre that knocks down the last wall of your self control.

“I can think of a thing or two.”

He stands tall over you, your eyes darkened with lust as you look up at him through your lashes.

It’s a ravishing sight, his fingers come down to brush some of your damp hair from your face and his thumb strokes affectionally against your cheek.

“Like what, baby?”

Oh, where do you start? A kiss, right? But you’re eye level with his hardening bulge and taking him down your throat has wetness pooling at your core.

But you really want to kiss him.

“Kiss me, Joel.”

And he does, bending himself over to hungrily smash his lips against yours.

You don’t hold back the whine at the feeling, your lips moving against each others in pure desperation as your tongue swirls around his before licking into his mouth.

You don’t know where this newfound confidence is coming from but you don’t do anything to deter from it.

You continue to make out, hot and heavy, as he crawls into the too small bed with you, pinning your body beneath his as he holds himself up with his strong forearms on either side of you.

Your hands eagerly run all over where you can reach. Squeezing his triceps, tracing down to his chest then digging your nails into his shoulders.

Joel grunts against your lips, breaking away so the two of you can catch your breath. His forehead falls against yours and you smile up at him.

“What you all smiley for?”

“Have you seen yourself? You’re something worth smiling over.”

He chases after your lips again and you’re back to making out like a pair of horny teenagers. Your fingers run along his warm skin beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, feeling how chiseled yet soft he is. You feel some of his chest hair and then you get curious so your hand falls lower until it’s at the band of his sleeping pants.

The hair there is coarser and you salivate at the thought of nuzzling your nose against the patch as you take him fully into your mouth.

Eager to feel his skin pressed up against yours, you tug at the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, pulling back to discard of it quickly.

You inhale sharply at the sight of his bare torso, much more attractive than the mental image you’d been painting since you met.

“You are so hot.”

He exhales through his nose in a silent laugh before he descend on you again, except this time he doesn’t reconnect your lips.

His hands softly caress your body through his clothes, cupping your breasts and kneading them. This has you canting your head back and arching into his touch, moaning sweetly at how good it feels

“S’all you, gorgeous. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

This has you moaning louder as his fingers pinch your pebbled nipples and you begin rocking your hips against nothing just to relieve some of the pressure that’s built up against your core.

“Joel, please…” You whimper out, wanting him to rip these clothes off you and devour you entirely.

He knows what you want and what kind of man would he be to deny such a pretty little thing of feeling good?

He quickly undresses you and you’re so lost in the moment that you aren’t even plagued with self consciousness.

Every touch, every stroke and caress has you feeling flawless as he begins to kiss at your neck, his pouty lips sucking a small mark beneath your jaw and you hiss his name out of excitement.

His lips continue their assault against your neck before trailing down to your chest and between your breasts.

His large, calloused hand runs up and down your sides before he hooks his fingers under the band of his boxers that you’re currently still in, slowly pulling the fabric down.

“Ya sure about this? We can stop if you want to.”

“If you stop right now I might just kill you.”

He smirks against your chest, letting his curved nose run along the swell of your breast before his tongue darts out to kitten lick at your sensitive nipple.

You shudder and then he’s taking the nub into his mouth, sucking on it before letting his tongue flicker over it repeatedly.

“Oh fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

With your lower half now fully exposed, he massages your thighs and you spread them wider to allow him to rest against you comfortably.

He continues to give your tits attention but now he’s paired it with the sensation of him running his thumb against your obscenely wet slit.

Your hips buck up involuntarily at his touch and he pulls back from your chest to look up at you.

“Be patient, sugar, I promise imma make you feel good.” He husks out, just as turned on as you are, as he turns his head towards your other breast to begin lavishing it in the same attention he’d just given its twin.

His thumb dips between your puffy folds, gathering your arousal before he’s swirling it around your needy clit.

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering close as you allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure of this foreplay. You’ve never been with a man who was this attuned to your body; touching you in all the right places and having you make sounds you’ve never made before.

Your nipple falls from his mouth with a soft and wet pop as his lips trail down your abdomen, kissing the smooth skin along the way.

He reaches your mound, those chocolate brown eyes of his staring up at you as his hands find purchase on the backs of your thighs, spreading you wider for him so his broad frame can fit in between them.

“You’re s’wet, darlin’. Bet you taste fuckin’ sweet too.”

Your fingers reach down to run through his hair, lust blooming in your stare.

“Why don’t you find out?”

He groans, lowering his head until you can feel his warm breath against your throbbing cunt. With your fingers still intertwined in his hair, you tug him closer to you— dying to feel his touch where you need him most.

Usually, Joel would drag this out more. Tease you until you’re a puddled mess and begging for him to take you however he pleased.

But he’s drunk on you. His mind clouded with nothing but the vision of your naked body sprawled before him and your sheer eagerness to use him to get off.

It’s hot and exhilarating— which is why he wastes no time in attaching his mouth to your pussy, groaning as your arousal floods his mouth.

“Oh my god!” Your back arches off the bed, grip on his curls tight as he begins to eat you out like a starved and barbaric man.

His tongue flicks across your clit one, two times before exploring the rest of your cunt. The wet noises coming from his ministrations echo through the room and they only spur you further into your orgasm.

“So fuckin’ sweet, baby. I could die a happy man right in between these beautiful legs.”

Joel kisses and nips at your inner thighs before diving back in. His tongue flattens against your cunt as he takes long, broad swipes before his lips wrap around your sensitive nub and he sucks on it. Harshly.

A scream of pleasure rips from your throat at the action, hips moving against his face as his nose bumps against your clit when his tongue moves down to plunge into your tight hole.

He licks the inside of you, allowing you to rock your hips as your stomach tightens with your climax not too far away.

Sensing this, Joel brings two of his thick fingers up to your core, lubing them up with your wetness before he slides them in. The slight burn from the stretch is enough to have you seeing fucking stars.

“Just like that Joel please don’t stop.”

You don’t care if you sound needy or desperate— the whole reason you’re here in California is to experience something new and to forget about how shitty your romantic life has been in the past.

Joel’s doing an amazing job making you forget, his rough fingers pumping in and out of you as his mouth kisses your pussy.

“C’mon baby. I can feel how fuckin’ close ya are, sugar. Let go.”

His fingers curl inside you, brushing up against that spot that has you cursing out a litany of expletives as you clench around him tightly and cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

Your fingernails dig into his scalp, grounding you as your orgasm quite literally has your soul leaving your body.

Your release coats his digits, mouth, and jaw as he eats you out through it. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you attempt to catch your breath, twitching at the oversensitivity between your thighs.

“Did so good, baby. Look so fuckin’ pretty comin’ undone like that.” He mutters against your ear, once again hovering over you before your mouths meet in a passionate kiss.

You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and it’s enough to spark another flame of arousal in your lower belly. Your legs wrap around his waist as his painfully hard erection presses up against your freshly fucked cunt.

“I want you to fuck me, Joel, please.” Your nose brushes up against his, giving him your best fuck me eyes in which he has no choice but to comply.

He shimmies out of his sweat pants, his swollen cock bouncing slightly as it’s exposed and your eyes widen as you look down to see just how fucking big he is.

Oh fuck, is it even going to fit?

“You okay, babygirl?”

You nod, eagerly. “Better than okay. I can’t wait to feel you inside of me.”

Your hand comes down to stroke him a few times, loving the way he groans out your name before swatting your hand away.

“Fuck— wait. I don’t have a condom.” He mutters and you quickly pull him down to you before he shifts away from between your legs.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill and haven’t been with anyone in months.”

You have no problem with him going in raw, you actually prefer it since you want to feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he pounds into you.

However; if he’s been giving it out to the masses then maybe you should reconsider letting him fuck you… but he doesn’t seem like the type to whore out like that and you pray that’s the case.

“Me either. ‘M clean ‘n I don’t get much action out here.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He laughs, actually laughs in your face and you can’t help but find this moment endearing.

“M’gonna have to instill some patience into ya, sweetheart. You’re a needy little thing.”

There’s a snarky reply on the tip of your tongue but it dies there as he sinks into you, the bulbous head of his cock stretching you out deliciously as your fleshy walls flutter around him.

“Fuck,” You both groan out in unison, relishing in how good it feels to be lost in each other like this.

He hasn’t bottomed out yet and you already feel so full.

“So big, Joel.” You purr out, feeling him twitch inside of you at the praise.

He rocks his hips into yours, finally burying himself fully inside of your cunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He stills, letting you adjust to his ginormous fucking cock, whispering sweet words into your ear as he peppers soft kisses against your neck and shoulder.

“You can move now. Please.” You roll your hips, crying out like a pornstar when the head just barely brushes against your cervix.

“Oh sugar you’re gonna have to keep those noises to yourself if you want to enjoy this for longer than two strokes.”

It makes you giddy knowing you have such an effect on him.

“Can’t help but express how good it feels.”

His hips cant back, cock sliding through your wet walls as he begins to thrust back into you. His movements start slow and patient, but once there’s enough of yours wetness coating the both of you; he readjusts you on the small bed and begins to set a ruthless pace.

“Yesyesyes, oh my god just like that!”

He sits back on his haunches, meaty hands gripping onto your hips for dear life as he fucks you harshly, the rusted springs of the bed crying out at the harsh movements.

“Play with your tits, baby, show me how much you like bein’ fucked like this.”

Not needing to be told twice, your hands come down to do as instructed; twisting and pulling at your nipples which heightens your arousal even more.

They bounce against your hold as he screws you with all the passion in the world. You’re hoping his rough touch against your hips leaves bruises. It’d be a lovely memory of this moment and how it’s not just a dream you’re having.

The sound of skin slapping against skin mingled with your respective sighs and moans of pleasure swirl around in the air, both of your bodies glistening with sweat from your coital activities.

He looks so sexy over you like this, the curls at the base of his neck sticking to his skin with sweat, eyes focused on your folds as your pussy stretches each time he fucks into you, tongue just barely peeking out between his lips in concentration.

You want to feel his lips on you as you cum for the second time tonight, so you reach for him and whine out his name and he happily complies, leaning over and crashing his lips onto yours.

Your tongues intertwine and you nibble on his lower lip as his hands move your legs to rest over his shoulders.

The change of angle is enough to topple you over the edge, and you cum with an aggressive shout of his name followed by your nails raking down the taut skin of his back.

His thrusts don’t relent as he continues to fuck you, and you’re too disoriented and caught up in pure bliss to do anything about it.

“Mmm baby cum inside me. I want you to fill me up and paint my walls with your cum, Joel, pretty please.”

You use that tone again, the porny one that had him almost coming prematurely. You pair it with a tight squeeze of your walls and that does it.

His thrusts stutter and he grunts huskily against your neck as he fills you up with his spend. You play with his hair as he comes down from his own climax, placing kisses against the crown of his head.

You both lay in a comfortable silence, him still buried inside of you while he holds himself up on his forearms.

“That was amazing.” You’re the first one to breach the quiet, “But I’m gonna need you to let my legs down. I don’t want to cramp folded up like a lawn chair like this.”

He chuckles against your sweaty skin, placing a kiss to your jaw before he pulls back and tentatively moves your legs off of his broad shoulders.

Joel pulls his cock out of you and you shudder at the loss, feeling his cum slowly dripping out and down your slit.

“Such a pretty sight.” He mumbles, bringing his fingers down to collect some of your mixed release before pumping it back inside of you.

You whine in protest, “Joel she’s sensitive. She just took one hell of a pounding.”

Though you clench around his fingers, your body contradicts your words.

“S’okay, sugar, I’ll take good care of her.”

And he does, god does he take good care of her and you for the remainder of the night.

#joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #the last of us fic #joel miller #tlou fic

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nicohischierz · 1 month

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reunion for the books: john marino

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

“johnny, i can’t just stay with you,” you reiterated

your boyfriend grumbled on the phone and pouted. you chuckled at his expression and answered your brothers text.

“it’s not like you live in a different apartment building johnny. you guys live on the same floor for goodness sake,” you teased him.

john grumbled a bit more before being called by your youngest brother.

you arrived to new jersey the morning of the devils game against the rangers. jack and luke had driven you from the airport and you caught up with them before they went to the rink.

john saw you as you bid goodbye to your brothers. he smiled and waved, a light blush coating his cheeks as you blew him a kiss.

you too made your way to madison square garden for the game. you adorned a hughes jersey accompanied with a necklace from your boyfriend.

john had thrown you a puck during warm ups under the pretence that you were a fan. your brothers waved and luke continued stick handling beside your boyfriend.

the game hadn’t even lasted a minute before the first fight broke out.

john wasn’t much of a fighter.

and this was proven when he went to fight the rangers player. sure, john held his own for a bit but he went down easily.

your spot next to the penalty box proved useful as you looked at john unimpressed. johnny smiled at you before conversing with his teammates.

they didn’t stay long in the box before they were ejected from the game.

you enjoyed the rest of the game despite the devils loss.

jack had texted you earlier to meet him and luke at the away changing rooms so you walked around like a headless chicken trying to find your way.

you’d finally found the changing room and waited off to a side when john walked out. he grinned and ran over to you, picking you up from the ground.

“oh i’ve missed you so much,” he murmured in your ear.

the second he put you back down, you brought him in for a kiss. however, it was short lived as you heard chatter coming your way.

instead you opted to change your position to a hug. “leave your door open and i’ll be there as soon as my brothers are asleep,” you whispered pulled away.

john gulped hard before turning to his teammates that filled the hallway. jack and luke had trailed behind and hadn’t spotted the two friends reuniting.

that was until dawson opened his mouth “hey, you’re hughesy’s sister!” he pointed out.

luke then pushed past his teammates towards his sister but stopped in front of her and john.

“you two know each other?” he questioned.

you nodded and moved away from john to your younger brother. “oh lukey, you need to stop growing up!” you exclaimed.

jack came up behind the two of you and hugged you in greeting. “how do you know john?” he asked.

“well we went to harvard together and we happened to be in the same class. also because i did some work with the team,” you explained.

the boys let it slide and informed you that john, nico and dawson were coming to their apartment to hang out a bit.

you smiled and nodded along.

the rest of the evening was spent with you sending longing looks to john and excusing yourselves to the kitchen whilst trying to remain under the radar.

“baby, i think we should tell them,” john announced.

you stopped pouring your glass and turned to your boyfriend. “you want to tell my brothers right now?” you asked.

john nodded. “we’ve been dating for three years, i want to be able to take you out on dates and not worry about your brothers finding us sneaking around,” he confessed.

you were about to agree with him when jack barged into the kitchen. “you’ve been saying for three years!”

luke and the rest of the guys followed after. dawson handing the captain some money as he grumbled about his luck.

“i thought quinn was crazy when he said he thought you had a boyfriend!” jack rambled.

“but then when you kept going for our games in boston and penguins games we thought it was cause of your crush on crosby,”

john laughed at the last part, watching as your cheeks turned red. you promptly elbowed your boyfriend “i was like eight,”

john kissed the top of your head and smiled at your brothers.

luke narrowed his eyes at you and john before widening them.

“wait a minute. when duker and i called you last year and he saw someone’s head was that john?” he asked.

the two of you looked at each other and blushed.

“eww,” the two hughes brothers gagged.

john wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your cheek. “now if you’ll excuse me, my girlfriend and i haven’t seen each other in months,” john excused.

#john marino imagine #hughes sister imagine #nicohischierz writes #nhl imagines #nhl fic

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contentloadingandstuff · 22 days

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(NSFW) Perfect Match - Tighnari x Fem!Tighnarian!Reader

A/N: Here's the third fem reader post for the few that happen to be on this blog. It's been some time since I last wrote a fic like this, but it's always nice to have a switch of perspective. As usual, and especially with this one as fem reader is not my forte, I'd really appreciate any thoughts and feedback you might have. Enjoy! CW: Tighnari is a little feral, reader and Tighnari go into heat, the usual smut.

Tighnari is such a contrast. Daily, he's quiet, patient and gentle (unless the circumstances demand something more than words), but when the heat grows, he turns just a little bit feral with you.

The reason? Simple - he loves you. Oh, yeah, and the hormones also play a part in melting his needy brain.

You've been together for some time now and Tighnari's instincts gave you the tag of his mate and he acted accordingly long before really acknowledging this. And, speaking honestly, he doesn't mind acting a little instinctual as long as you're fine with it.

Keeping you close and protecting you is what he is meant to do with you as his female. Tighnari frequently takes the initiative in simple, everyday matters. Need to get out of a crowd? He's already holding your hand and guiding you safely through the people to a quieter place. When cuddling in bed, he always shifts to be the big spoon, security your smaller, warm body in his hold, close - just as you should be. If there is any imminent danger, you'll quickly find yourself gently pushed back behind him by his arm.

He'll get possessive at times too. When he notices any other male forest rangers eyeing you with the curiosity you've got accustomed too - ears and a tail as beautiful as yours draw attention, obviously - his hand will make its way to your hip and stay there. When it's the heat season, Tighnari will also get quite defensive with you. If anybody is as little as unkind to you, he will step in to get them off your back. With all this comes a little bit of obvious suspicion, but simple communication is always enough to ease his worries about any of the other men you’re colleagues or friends with.

Does it all bother you? Oh, not at all! How could it when every inch of him just radiates this unexplainable male allure you can't get enough of?

There's something fascinating about the way he carries himself that you can't quite explain. It's how decisive he is, it's in the unique tone of his voice, it's in his subtly dominant nature. Your eyes pick up seemingly trivial things that you can't help but marvel at. You love how strong he is, be that due to his Vision or just how he is - nothing makes you more excited than being picked up (and pinned down too!). He does this with such ease too…

Being a young hybrid, Tighnari has his needs that, if not satiated, make him grumpy and quite irritated. If you're not feeling like it, he'll understand - as any good partner should. Which doesn't mean he won't be disappointed, mind you. A horny Tighnari significantly increases your chances of stumbling upon him furiously stroking himself or hearing his needy moans in the night as he blows another unsatisfying load.

Even though his hand was enough to keep his lust at bay, it was hardly satisfying. Luckily, the days of jerking the edge off are gone now. Why cum into a tissue when he can empty his balls inside you? Compared to his hand your fertile, warm and wet pussy feels like absolute heaven…

… And his fat, pulsating cock is the ideal extinguisher for the fire in your womb. Your hybrid nature leaves you just as prone to bursts of irresistible arousal as him. Your heat might be a single month at the start of the year, but living alongside a fellow tighnarian makes your brain buzz with hormones.

Between the two of you, there's a simple rule - when you're horny, you fuck. He knows well that when his thoughts wander, there's no way of fighting them off. That's when he'll signal his needs to you. Looking at you with those smug bedroom eyes, for example, is a clear sign that Tighnari would like to see you on the bed head-down-ass-up in the immediate future.

Usually, it's your smell that catches his attention. His sensitive nose can pick it up flawlessly each time. Your scent is gentle, with only the slightest hint of musk included in the mix. You'll find Tighnari cuddling especially tightly in the mornings or after physical activity when your pheromones are at their strongest. It won't take much time for his hands to wander and his cock to harden.

His scent is the perfect moisturizer for your pussy, yes, but it's also a little bothersome. Because. It. Is. Everywhere. On the pillows, on the couch, on the chairs, inside every room from the bedroom down to even the closet. In the first two months of the year it's just straight up impossible to ignore it or distract yourself from your husband's pheromones. Sometimes you're wondering if your ancestors were idiotic enough to not breed by themselves, forcing evolution into giving them this neuron activation upon catching a whiff of dick or pussy.

For example, doing laundry is tricky to do without getting flustered or horny. Tighnari’s musk is, obviously, the strongest on his clothes. So whenever you pick up one of his shirts or boxers and your sensitive nose finds just how strong his smell is, you suddenly become flustered and very interested in what's under the pair he is wearing right now.

Luckily for you, Tighnari is a good husband and will fuck his cute little wife senseless when she needs it, and you’re more than glad to return the favour when he is in need. It's a simple instinct. You're his mate, and he is yours. Your scents are impossible to ignore, sending the more primal parts of your brains a simple message - you're both young, beautiful, healthy and ready to breed. Around him, your pussy clenches at nothing, your womb longing to be filled with baby-making cum, and around you his balls ache from all the creamy, virile seed he is making for you.

This awareness, awareness of you being ripe for the picking, makes you irresistible for him.

Although Tighnari's cock might be average in size, what he lacks in length he makes up for in sex drive and pure ferocity. He can fuck fast and he can fuck hard. He won't be stopping himself from manhandling you - you'll surely be surprised by just how strong a male like him can be. Whatever playful resistance efforts you may make and regardless of how much force you put into them, Tighnari will just growl and pin you down every single time.

Primal play always gets him hot and bothered. In bed, he's the natural lead. He's the hungry predator, and you're his cute little prey. Struggle all you can, but at the end there's no escape from a thorough breeding. His hybrid stamina lets him cum again and again with barely any downtime between powerful orgasms that fill your insides with warm cum.

His go to position is prone bone. Having your smaller, feminine body pinned under his weight, your hands locked under his and your pretty mouth desperately biting the sheets as he forces his swollen knot in and out of you drives him positively feral. Doggy style is also quite fun. Grabbing your tail and pulling it away to reveal your tight little asshole and drenched pussy lips is extremely satisfying. Sometimes he grabs your head and pulls it back, thoroughly enjoying the sight of your long ears folding in submission.

While he isn't too much into receiving oral, he won't ever pass up the opportunity to feast on your pussy. If you give him the chance to, you'll find Tighnari greedily lapping at your folds, drinking up your scent and arousal like a parched man. When you sit on his face, you'll have a nice view of his cock, swollen, twitchy and overflowing with precum, just waiting to nestle in between your warm lower lips. How can this sight make you anything but absolutely crazy for his dick? You'll often find yourself locked in a sixty-nine with both of you furiously licking each other with your rough tongues. If he couples it with a passionate fuck afterwards, you'll be lucky to have your pretty legs work in the morning.

But it is in January and February when your lust really makes an appearance. These two months are usually taken out of the calendar for you two - being apart from each other during your heat after having tasted what having a mate feels like is torture. Not even the best toys can replace him - they won't ever mimic his warmth, his desperate and frustrated groans, his arms locking your body in place or his ears, trembling and folding from the pleasure as he breeds you.

His instincts tell him to pump a litter or two into your womb, and he'll announce his needs to you, whether you decide to go through with it or not. A condom or a pill is an absolute must if you want to be safe - it's usually very difficult to keep yourself from letting the lust take full control. It's absolutely not because your pussy milks him and throbs so much, desperate to suck him in just that millimeter deeper and get absolutely pumped with his baby making milk and end up leg locking him.

Mornings with Tighnari are always fun, regardless of the season. You'll sometimes wake up to the sensation of him rubbing his length along your ass, moaning your name softly into your ear and asking, begging to be let in. You usually let him - it's not like you're not guilty of blowing him awake either. Whoever is the “waker-up”, they can certainly expect a wonderful, lazy morning breeding.

Thanks for reading!

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