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nova-is-a-writer-now · 14 hours

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Highway Heat

Summary: Your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and the trucker you flag down offers more than just roadside assistance.

A/N: Lord oh lord… I tried to be good i swear, i really tried to behave. The thing is my sweet beta reader @hautecouture02 requested a little roadside encounter one shot with Joel, specifically asking for FLUFF, and i swear on everything holy I tried my best to keep it PG… but sometimes things don’t go as I planned. So here, take this absolute filth of a one shot that’s little more than PWOP. ENJOY!!!!

Warnings: As previously stated, this is pretty much PWOP, Trucker!Joel i know nothing about trucks lol, maybe some dub!con at first but the internal dialogue shows hella consent, groping, fingering, a bit of praise and a bit of degradation, pet names like so many of them im not gonna list them all almost too many pet names if you believe in such a thing, grinding, oral male receiving, deep throating

Masterlist

You’re a good person—hell, a great person even. You give your spare change to homeless people, you donate to the puppy shelter every once in a while, you hold your friend’s hair back when they’re throwing up in the back of the club. You’re definitely not the type of person who deserves to be stranded in the middle of nowhere, sweating buckets despite wearing nothing but a spaghetti strap tank and the tiniest pair of shorts you own. This feels like some kind of cosmic punishment.

It is, undoubtedly, the worst possible time for your car to stop working. You’d been putting off the usual checkups on your car for months, knowing full well it was overdue for an oil change, a tire rotation—or whatever men who know their way around a toolbox always say. Your ex used to handle all of that for you, always acting like it was his job to make sure your car ran smoothly. He was that kind of guy who would go out of his way to make your life easier—didn’t mean he was above cheating though.

So now, you’re stuck in your geriatric Honda Civic, the AC busted and the engine refusing to start.

After a few minutes of trying to will it back to life, it’s clear you’re stranded.

You step out of the car, and the heat hits you like a goddamn slap to the face. The road’s deserted, no signs of life for miles, and of course, your phone has no signal. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. You glance down the road, hoping for a miracle, when you spot the rough outline of a truck—a big one, maybe a sixteen-wheeler—coming up in the distance.

Relief washes over you for about two seconds before your brain kicks in, running through every horror movie scenario. But it’s not like you’ve got a buffet of options, so you throw up your hand, waving the truck down as it rolls closer.

It’s a beat-up old thing, paint chipped and covered in dust, but it comes to a slow stop right behind your car. The door creaks open, and out steps a man.

He’s tall, broad, with a face lined with age and tan from long days under the sun. The net cap he wears lets a few of his longer dark curls peek out, the front pieces overpowered by graying hair. He sports a faded plaid shirt and jeans, a pair of well-worn boots kicking up dust as he steps toward you. His dark, intense eyes size you up like you’re part of the landscape he’s used to navigating.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” His voice is deep and gravelly, but the drawl is the star of the show, thick and sweet like honey.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your frustration in check. “Car broke down. Won’t start. No service either.”

He nods slowly, like this is exactly the kind of situation he expects to find out here. “Well, good thing I’m passin’ through.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes a little at that, but desperation makes you bite your tongue. “Think you could take a look?”

He stares at you for a moment, long enough that you wonder if he’s going to offer any help at all. But then he lets out a low sigh, scratches the back of his neck, and walks over to your car, popping the hood like it’s second nature.

For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of him tinkering under the hood, the occasional grunt or muttered curse as he checks things out. You stand there awkwardly, feeling the heat bearing down on you, watching as beads of sweat gather at the back of his neck.

Finally, he steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Shit’s runnin’ on fumes. When’s the last time you had it serviced?””

You shift, feeling stupid. “A while. My ex used to handle it, and, uh… I’ve been busy.”

He gives you a look, something between amusement and pity, before shaking his head. He leans against the car, arms crossed. “I can tow you to a shop in the next town, but it gon’ be a ride.”

You blink up at him, surprised at his offer. “You don’t mind?”

“Nah,” he says, with a shrug, “I’m headin’ that way anyway.”

He moves back to his truck, grabbing a few chains and a tow hitch from the back. Within minutes, he’s hooking up your beat-up Honda Civic to the rear of his truck, working with the ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before.

“You sure this is safe?” you ask, watching him as he tightens the last chain.

“As safe as it’s gonna get,” he replies with a shrug, brushing the dust from his hands. “Ain’t no mechanic shop out here, so this’ll do ‘til we get to the next town.”

You hesitate, then eye him. “You’re not gonna, like, chop me up and throw me in a ditch, are you?”

He chuckles at that, a nice gravely sound. “If I was, don’t think I’d tell ya, sugar. But no, I ain’t in the business of chopping people up.”

You look at him for a bit longer before sighing. “Fuck it, let’s go.”

He turns, heading back to his truck, his broad back facing you and making it a hell of a lot harder to concentrate

“Name’s Joel, by the way,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Thanks, Joel,” you say, stepping up into the truck’s cab, the cool air from his AC hitting you like a blessing. Maybe your luck hasn’t run out just yet.

You sink back into the seat as he climbs up on his side of the cab, letting the icy air wash over you. There’s something else prickling at your senses though—something that has nothing to do with the temperature. It’s him.

Joel’s glances are obvious, a little too long, lingering like he’s sizing you up. Normally, it’d make you roll your eyes, maybe even tell him off. Old guy like him eyeing you up is nothing you’re unfamiliar with. But today? With the way your body feels sticky and tired, and the way the breakup has left you all out of sorts… you’re almost enjoying it.

You’ve been craving attention and the shitty one night stands with guys from dating apps have done nothing to satiate that need. It’s been months since anyone has touched you and that rational part of your brain that would be yelling at you to be aware of the sleazy old trucker who just picked you off of the side of the road is sounding real quiet right now.

“So…” His voice pulls you from your thoughts as he shifts in his seat, resting one hand lazily on the wheel. “Where you headed?”

You hesitate, eyes on the road ahead. “Just… trying to get home.”

He hums, slow and deliberate. “Home, huh? Got anyone waitin’ on you there? Boyfriend?”

The word slices through you, sharper than you expected. You tighten your jaw, glancing out the window. “No. Not anymore.”

Joel makes a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. “Well, ain’t that a shame. Pretty thing like you, all alone.”

You should hate the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker toward you like he’s just waiting for an opening. But instead, there’s a strange warmth pooling in your stomach, your pulse picking up in a way you’re not proud of. You shift in your seat, crossing your legs like it’ll somehow tamp down the growing tension in your body. He doesn’t miss it, his smirk growing a little wider.

“That line work on most girls?” you quip, trying to keep things light.

Joel chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “Depends on the girl. But you look a little… flustered.”

Your cheeks heat up, and it’s not just the sun this time. “I’m not flustered.”

“Sure about that, darlin’?”

You glare at the open road, biting your lip as you try to ignore the way his words are messing with your head—and your body. It’s been way too long since anyone’s looked at you like this. Really looked at you.

The silence stretches out as the truck rumbles along the deserted road. You try to focus on anything but the tension in the air and find it’s impossible. His presence feels inescapable, it fills the cab wrapping around you, pressing down on every nerve.

“You never told me,” Joel says after a while, breaking the quiet. “Where’s home?”

“Texas,” you say quietly, your voice a little steadier now. “But I’m not in any rush to get back.”

“Family trouble?” he asks, his eyes flicking toward you again.

“Something like that,” you mutter. “It’s complicated.”

He hums in response. “Don’t I know it.”

You shift in your seat, crossing your legs, catching Joel watching you out of the corner of his eye. His gaze lingers a little too long on your bare thighs, and there’s a flicker of something dark passing over his face, but he says nothing.

You want to ignore it—God, you should ignore it—especially since you’re stuck with him for a while longer. But the rising heat in your body and the quickening pulse beneath your skin make it hard to think straight, harder still to make good decisions.

So you bite.

“You gonna keep staring, or is this part of your charm routine?” You cock a brow, trying to ignore the way warmth crawls up your neck.

A slow smirk curls at his lips, but he doesn’t look away. If anything, he leans in closer, his hand resting just near your leg, making the air between you buzz. “You think I’m layin’ it on too thick?”

“Little bit,” you quip back, though your voice betrays you with how soft it comes out. You bite your lip, trying to stay sharp, but his eyes flick down to the movement, and the pulsing need low in your stomach tightens. “It’s not working, though.”

His smirk widens, like he’s enjoying this far too much. “Funny. Seems to me it’s workin’ just fine.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way your heart races when he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your leg. The touch is light, almost casual, but it’s enough to send a shiver racing up your spine, your breath catching in your throat.

“You can roll your eyes all you want, doll. It don’t change the fact I can see what you need, clear as day,” he purrs, his voice dropping lower.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” you snap back, though your words lack the heat you want them to have.

“Little bit of attention.”

He reads you too well. It drives you insane. “I don’t need anything from you. Just get me where I need to go.”

A quiet chuckle rumbles from his chest. “That so? ’Cause the way you’ve been shiftin’ in that seat says otherwise.”

You bristle at his words, but the truth sticks like a thorn. There’s a reason you haven’t told him to stop, a reason you haven’t shut this down. You’re tired, frustrated, and the way his eyes keep grazing over you… you can’t stop wondering how easy it’d be to let him pull you under, to let him take all your worries away.

“You’re losing it, old man,” you shoot back, even though you know it’s a losing game. He sees right through you, but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna make it easy.

“Am I?” he purrs, his hand sliding up to rest fully on your thigh. “So, you don’t want me touching you like this, darlin’?”

The way he says it—slow, deliberate, laced with that sweet, thick accent—it’s all innocence, even though everything about it screams otherwise. You know you’ll be hearing that “darlin’” in your head later, when you’re playing with yourself.

You smirk, giving him a little more rope. “I didn’t say that.”

He hums, eyes flicking between the road and your legs. “And I’m guessin’ you wouldn’t say a word if I moved my hand higher, would you?”

Your legs part just slightly, almost like an instinct. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But not to Joel.

“Look at you,” he drawls, a shit-eating smirk spreading across his lips. “Already makin’ it easier for me.”

You’re about to fire back, ready to keep this banter rolling, when his fingers slide higher. A soft sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“You ready to stop actin’ up, or we still playin’ cat and mouse, pretty girl?” His eyes lock on yours, dark and unwavering.

Your pulse quickens at the challenge in his voice, your breath catching in your throat. His fingers are still on your thigh, warm and rough, and it’s messing with your head. You know you should stop this now, make him pull his hand back, but you’re not sure if that’s what you want.

“I’m not acting up,” you murmur, trying to hold on to some sense of control, even though his touch is making that damn near impossible.

His grin widens, like he’s got you exactly where he wants you. “Mhm, sure you ain’t.”

You glare at him, but it’s weak. Pathetic, really, and the worst part is he knows it. He knows how to get under your skin even though he has known you for half an hour, knows exactly what buttons to push to unravel you just enough to keep you hanging on.

“I mean it,” you snap, though your voice wavers. His hand shifts slightly on your thigh, fingers curling just enough to make your stomach twist into knots.

“I wanna believe you,” His voice is low, a quiet rumble that vibrates through you, all the way down to where you’re aching for him to touch you. He leans in a little more, so close now that you can feel the heat radiating off him, smell that familiar scent of worn leather and something dark and intoxicating. “But you keep lettin’ me touch you. Kinda sends a different message, don’t you think?”

Your heart’s pounding in your chest, the steady rhythm of it loud in your ears. You don’t know how to answer, don’t know if you want to answer. Every rational thought in your head is telling you to stop, but your body isn’t listening.

Instead, you shift slightly, your leg pressing into his hand, just enough to encourage him to keep going. His eyes darken, and a slow, dangerous smile tugs at his lips.

“Thought so,” he mutters, and then his fingers start to move again, sliding higher, testing the boundaries you haven’t set.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the sigh that’s clawing its way up your throat, but it slips through anyway. He hears it, of course he does, and the satisfied gleam in his eyes makes your face flush with heat.

“You wanna tell me to stop, now’s your chance,” he murmurs, his voice soft but carrying an edge of challenge, like he knows damn well you’re not going to.

His gaze shifts between the road and you and it almost seems like every time those eyes are back on you they become darker.

You glance at him, your heart in your throat, and there’s that flicker of hesitation—you should say something, should stop this before it goes any further—but the way his fingers are brushing higher, dangerously close to the ache between your legs, makes it impossible to think straight.

So you just meet his gaze, and you don’t say a word.

His smirk grows, and his hand drifts even higher. “Good girl.” This time he fully gropes your thigh, groaning like he’s been waiting to unleash this. “You wanna take these off for me, sweetheart? Let me give you as much attention as you want.”

He must have some psychic hold on you because you follow his instructions with no hesitation this time. Your fingers eagerly unbotton your shorts and pull the zipper down, lifting your hips to shimmy them down.

He looks at you for a lot longe than he should taking into account he’s currently driving a beast of a vehicle. “Lord above… you’re a sight and a half, darlin’”

He goes back to massaging your thigh, making circles with his thick fingers, going each time higher. Once he reaches your panties he stops and just rests his hand there, right at the edge of where you want him most. His fingers teasingly brush the fabric, enough to make you gasp, but he doesn’t go any further.

“You’re gonna have to ask for it,” he rasps, his voice thick with something darker now. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl.”

His words are like a key turning in a lock, and your resistance crumbles. You can’t deny it anymore, not when his hand is right there, so close to what you need, your entire body burning up under his touch.

“Joel…” you whisper, your voice almost pleading now, barely more than a breath.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand pressing a little more firmly, his fingers tracing along the outline of your heat through the fabric. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

Your breath stutters, and your hips shift on their own, pressing into his hand. You’re barely hanging on, the tension between you two crackling like a live wire, but he’s still holding back, waiting for you to give in completely.

“Please…” you finally manage, the word spilling out before you can stop it. It’s humiliating and liberating all at once.

“Please what?”

You let out the shadow of a moan. “Please touch me.”

Joel’s hand slips under the fabric, his fingers finally finding your core, and the groan that escapes him sends a shockwave of heat straight to your core. “Good girl,” he breathes, his voice like gravel as his fingers start to move in slow, torturous circles.

Your head falls back against the seat, a whimper escaping your lips as he finally gives you what you’ve been craving. “Jesus, Joel…”

“Feels good, huh?” he rasps, his eyes flicking from the road to you, watching the way your body reacts to every touch, every motion of his hand. “Told you I know exactly what you need, baby.”

You’re melting under his touch, your body humming with the pressure of his fingers moving against you, his voice guiding you deeper into the haze of pleasure. You’re not even sure what’s more intoxicating—the way he’s touching you or the way he’s talking to you, that low, commanding tone unraveling you completely.

“That’s it, sweetness, grind on my fingers, make that little pussy feel good” Joel growls, having a harder time keeping his eyes on the road now.

“Fuck… that feels you good da-“ you stop yourself before you’re able to finish the word. Your ex didn’t like you calling him that, so you usually kept that particular kink under wraps, but something about Joel is making it surface back up.

He looks up at you, pupils blown out. “Say it… say wha you wanna say baby.”

You lose all restraint and moan loudly. “It feels so good, daddy.”

“That’s right, babygirl.” He moans “Daddy’s fingers make your pretty cunt fucking drip don’t they?”

His words send a wave of pleasure through your body, a mixture of shame and intense arousal surging in your chest. You’re too far gone to stop now, letting the haze of lust pull you under completely.

“Yes,” you whisper, the word slipping out like a confession. “So fucking wet.”

Joel’s fingers move faster, rough and skilled, coaxing you into a rhythm that has you arching your back against the seat. His other hand grips the wheel tight, knuckles white, and you can tell he’s barely hanging onto his self-control, but that only makes it hotter.

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ dream,” he growls, voice thick with desire. “Been wantin’ to ruin you since the minute you sat your pretty ass in this truck.”

The vulgarity, the way he talks to you—it should feel wrong, but instead, it’s like gasoline thrown on the fire already burning inside you. You grind down harder on his fingers, chasing the high he’s offering, the tension building fast in your core.

You glance over at him, his jaw tight, eyes darting between the road and you, and there’s something so filthy about the way he’s trying to keep it together while driving, the way his control is slipping. You want to push him, make him lose it completely.

“You’re losing it too,” you pant, breathless, pushing your hips into his hand. “Can’t even keep your eyes on the road, can you?”

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and predatory. “Careful. Keep talkin’ like that, and I’ll pull this truck over.”

The threat in his voice makes you shiver, heat pooling low in your belly. You’re right on the edge, your body strung tight as a bow, every nerve lit up under his touch.

“Do it,” you challenge, voice breathless and wrecked.

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his hand gripping your thigh so hard it almost hurts. Without another word, he swerves the truck off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulls into a secluded spot off the highway.

Your heart is pounding, adrenaline mixing with the arousal as he throws the truck into park and turns to face you fully. The look in his eyes is feral, like he’s done holding back, and you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“Such a little attention whore, baby,” he growls, unbuckling his seatbelt with one hand, the other still teasing you between your legs. “I’m all yours now.”

In one swift motion, he pulls you onto his lap, your thighs straddling his hips, the weight of his hard length pressing against you through his jeans. He is big, a lot bigger than you expected and it makes your mouth water,almost like your body is showing you how badly you need him in a million and one ways.

His hands grip your hips possessively, eyes locking with yours as if daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate. You grind down on him, both of you letting out low moans at the contact. The friction sends sparks flying up your spine, and you can already tell this is about to be the kind of reckless, dirty, no-going-back encounter you’ve both been craving.

Joel’s hands slide up your back, fisting in your hair as he pulls you down to feast on your neck. His lips trail down, biting at the sensitive skin there, and it’s too much, too intense. You feel like you’re going to combust right here in his arms.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters against your skin, one hand slipping between you to push your panties aside, his fingers slipping through your slick heat again. “Filthy little slut, letting a stranger put his fingers inside you. Gonna make you come so hard you forget your own name, pretty girl.”

Your hips buck against him, the promise of release so close you can taste it. “Fuck, Joel, please…”

“Try again. You know better.” his tone is firm and commanding, all the previous playfulness gone.

“Please daddy, let me come”

“That’s it,” he groans, his thumb circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure, pushing you right to the edge. “Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel this tight little whole clench on my fingers.”

The way he says it with such authority, has you unraveling in his lap, your entire body trembling as you come hard against his hand. Your vision goes white, pleasure crashing over you in waves as you grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

Joel watches you, his eyes hooded and hungry, soaking in every second of your release. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers until you’re shaking from the aftershocks, your body limp and boneless against him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and satisfied as he finally pulls his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you. “Tastes even better than I imagined.”

You’re still catching your breath, head buzzing from the intensity, but the way his hardness presses against you makes it clear you’re far from done. It’s not like those other times when finishing a guy felt like an obligation, when the effort barely felt worth it because they didn’t take the time to get you there first. But Joel? Joel made you come so hard you can’t help but want to return the favor. It’s not a chore—it’s something you crave.

“My turn,” you murmur, fingers already working at the button of his jeans.

His grip tightens on your hips, eyes darkening as he watches your hands move, but there’s a flicker of restraint. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart. Can’t have this beast of a truck just parked in the middle of the road.”

You shift back onto your own seat, lifting your leg off his lap to give yourself the space you need. The desire to make him feel just as wrecked as you burns in your chest, so you lean down, your gaze steady on his as your fingers trail lower.

“You can drive,” you say, voice low, teasing. “I’m not stopping you.”

Joel’s eyes flash with something dangerous, his jaw ticking like he’s fighting with himself. For a second, you think he’s going to tell you to stop, but then he huffs out a breath, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “You’re trouble.”

You smile up at him as you feel him start the engine again, your hand slipping lower, teasing him through his jeans.

Joel’s breath hitches as your fingers brush against him, a low growl vibrating in his chest. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he tries to focus on the road, but you can tell he’s losing the battle.

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he tries to keep his cool, but you can see right through it. The way his body is responding to your touch, the way he’s barely holding it together, it only spurs you on.

You undo his jeans and pull the zipper down, feeling the heat radiating off him. His breath stutters, and his hand slips to grip the side of the seat, trying to ground himself as you free him from the confines of his jeans.

You wrap your hand around him, feeling how hard he is, how thick, and the groan that escapes his lips sends a thrill through you. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes flicking between the road and you, his control slipping more by the second.

You lower your head, your lips grazing his tip, and Joel’s entire body tenses. His hips buck up, instinctively searching for more, and you can’t help but smirk as you take him deeper into your mouth.

“Holy shit,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, his hand instinctively flying to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

But even as he says it, there’s no hint of him wanting you to stop. He keeps urging you on in slow, measured strokes. The tension in him is palpable, and you can feel the way his control is fraying with every flick of your tongue, every inch you take him deeper.

His breathing grows ragged, and he glances down at you, eyes dark with heat and disbelief. “You’re so pretty with a fat cock stuffed in your mouth baby, look at you ”

You hum around him, the vibration making his hips jerk again, and the low groan that rips from his throat sends a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through you. He’s unraveling, right in front of you, and you’re loving every second of it.

You pick up the pace, your hand working him in tandem with your mouth, and Joel’s growl turns guttural, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Right there, darlin’ girl, don’t stop…” he hisses, head tipping back slightly as his hips move in time with your rhythm, chasing the release that’s so damn close.

His eyes flick between the road and you, pupils blown, struggling to stay on course even as his focus is being torn apart by you.

“Fuck, baby… I’m not gonna last if you keep—” He cuts himself off with a harsh groan, his hips bucking again, muscles taut and trembling as he loses the last shred of his composure. He’s completely at your mercy now, and it’s making him wild, his control slipping fast.

You don’t let up, your hand dropping lower to play with his balls, and he’s right on the edge, teetering dangerously close. His breath comes in ragged bursts, and his body tightens under you, his hips jerking harder, more desperate now.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

Instead of answering you take him deeper down your throat, your nose burrowing in the dark curls at the base of his cock, his smell so musky and intoxicating it makes you dizzy.

“Shit, shit—” Joel’s voice is a strangled growl, and then you feel him pulse in your mouth, a low, guttural moan tearing from his throat as he finally comes undone. He’s barely holding onto the wheel, the truck swerving just enough to make your heart race, but it’s clear he’s past caring. He spills hot and hard into your mouth, the sound of his release drowned out by the pounding of your own pulse in your ears.

You keep going, milking him for every last bit, until he’s trembling beneath you, his breathing ragged and uneven. When you finally pull away, he’s still gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough and wrecked. His eyes flick down to you, wild and wide, before darting back to the road. He lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Best hitchhiker I’ve ever picked up, that’s for damn sure.”

As if on cue, the truck finally pulls into the shop, the hum of the engine fading, the weight of what just happened still hung thick between you two. Joel cuts the ignition, his hand lingering on the key for a beat too long, like he wasn’t quite ready to step back into reality. He realizes his now soft cock is still out and starts to zip himself back up.

You try to gather yourself, smoothing your clothes and brushing a hand through your hair as if it’d erase everything that had gone down on that highway. You can tell it’s gonna stick with you for a good while longer though.

Joel clears his throat, glancing over at you with a look that was somehow both satisfied and conflicted. "Well, we’re here," he mutters, but his hand was already fishing in his back pocket for something. "Here." He hands you a crumpled business card, his name scrawled across it with a number underneath. "In case you run into any more car trouble or, y'know... anything else."

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he knows damn well this had nothing to do with the rugged old thing and everything to do with the heat still simmering between you. You take the card, trying to hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

"Thanks," you reply, pocketing it casually, though the way your heart raced gave you away. "For… you know, all of it."

He just gives you that signature look of his—half-smirk, half-smolder—and with that, you slide out of the truck, legs still feeling like jelly as you walked away. You didn't even need to turn around to know his eyes were glued to your retreating figure.

#joel x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller #trucker!joel #joel smut #joel miller smut #joel x reader smut

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readerswritings · 2 days

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In the Damn Kitchen - Poolverine 1/2

Smut will come in next chapter I promise, just needed to get this part out into the world first to see if people like it. (AO3)

Warnings/tags: roommates, first Kiss, idiots in love, eventual smut, canon-typical behavior

Wordcount: 1224

Summary: Logan and Wade are some weird kind of roomates, and one morning Logan tries to figure out how to make Wade shut the fuck up without getting blood in his breakfast.

Logan has been staying with Wade on his shitty pull-out couch for three months. Something that was meant to be somewhat temporary is feeling less and less like that these days.

They still fight physically, stabbing each other and making a mess (that Al complains about later), but they also just hang out.

Which Logan isn’t used to.

Not anymore.

Haven’t been for a good while.

Wade has grown on him, even with all the touching. And talking.

All the goddamn talking.

It rarely stops.

Wade talks on the inhale and exhale.

Not even when he eats is Wade quiet, talking with his mouth full of food. He has been doing it less lately, after Logan stabbed him with a fork a few times so he wouldn’t have to see that shit.

Wade is only quiet when he’s sleeping.

Logan has returned late from a bar or late-night walks a few times to Wade asleep on the pullout. Seeing him quiet and still had been odd. Wade’s ADHD filled ass never being still when he’s awake.

Wade also sleeps like he’s dead. Logan had discovered this when he tried to wake him so he would move the first time. It was legitimately difficult to wake him up. So after that first time where it took an eternity to get him conscious enough to move, Logan either goes to sleep in the armchair he had gotten off the street the first week he was here, or tips Wade onto the floor with a pillow if he is in a bad mood.

When he doesn’t give a shit, he’ll just crawl onto the pullout with Wade. He tends to wake up before him anyway. The few times he doesn’t, a few claws to the guts makes Wade shut up, or at least talk about something else.

Another thing he hasn’t quite gotten used to, is how casual Wade is about touch.

Sure, Wade had been touching him a bunch when they first met. But that had been to rile Logan up, to get a reaction, even if it was all negative. (The Honda doesn’t count in any positive way, the intent behind all of that had been hate and adrenaline. Even if the end result had been good.)

Now though, it’s a hand patting his shoulder as they pass in the kitchen. A thigh bumping against his own as they watch shitty reality tv. Feet kicking him under the dinner table if he says something too blunt or rude. A shoulder bumping against his as they walk that damn ugly dog together.

It makes his skin crawl, mostly with how used to it he has become. And how he kinda, not that he will admit this to anyone but his own thoughts, likes it.

It’s all become routine, a weird kind of domestic, (Logan hates that word), that works for them.

Speaking of routine, Logan often makes breakfast for them. Wade can barely cook, Al is blind, and Logan doesn’t mind that much most of the time. He needs to eat a lot anyway, and getting something into Wade that is somewhat healthy and not just all sugar makes him a little less irritating to deal with during the day.

Wade of course likes to tease him when he cooks. Stealing bites before it’s ready. Logan has become quite adept at fighting just with a spatula, smacking hands away with a grunted ‘fuck off.’

He’s off his game this morning though, as Wade manages to snatch a piece of bacon, straight from the pan where it was almost finished. Logan knows it must be burning his mouth and tongue, but Wade crunches on his price with a grin on his face.

He’s wearing Deadpool pajama pants, bunny slippers, and a pink long sleeve with Hello Kitty on it, and frankly looks ridiculous leaning on the counter, extra so next to Logan who is fully dressed for the day in his flannel, t-shirt, jeans, and boots.

“Haven’t had enough coffee yet peanut?” Logan grunts, smacking Wade’s hand as it tries to go for another piece.

“Fuck off.”

“Oh you know I love it when you talk dirty to me, even this early in the morning.”

“It’s 10 am dipshit.”

“Oh you know the saying, it’s always 5 am somewhere.” Logan snorts, shaking his head. He grabs a plate to put the finished bacon on, putting some more in the pan. He lets Wade take a piece from the plate.

“Besides, I kept waking up because my dreams were being haunted by this sexy lumberjack looking figure, and I woke up with a raging hard-on that I had to take care of every-” Logan tunes him out, a necessary and learned skill by now. He flips the bacon, then stirs the eggs in the other pan where he’s keeping them warm on low heat.

There’s a hand in his hair, and that makes his focus snap back to Wade and his yapping.

“You know, I always wonder if you roll out of bed with these little tufts.” Logan pushes his hand away, letting the claws out just enough so he knicks Wade’s skin.

“Ouchie, someone’s a grump this morning. You’ve clearly not gotten enough caffeine in your hot bod yet. We should get that coffee that has a fuckton of it, the one with the skull or whatever, that lethal shit. Wonder if that would actually kill you, do you think your heart could give out on you? I think they even make you sign a wai-” Logan tunes him out again and wonders what it will take to shut Wade up. He is right, Logan has not had enough coffee for this. (Or booze, but he’s trying to do a little less of that.)

Logan absentmindedly notices one of Wade’s scars on his cheek looks kinda almost like an H, and his mind drifts to the Honda. Unintentional, though not unwelcome

He’d rather not get blood on his bacon right now, so he goes for another component of all that shit.

He steps to the side and turns, leaning forward, pressing his lips against Wade’s. It’s a brief kiss, but Wade doesn’t immediately say anything as Logan leans back just enough to gauge his reaction. He's enjoying the silence as Wade's eyes are flickering all over his face.

Wade’s mouth is gaping like a fish, opening and closing before his brain is booting back up. It makes Logan snort as he leans back all the way back.

The silence lasts for maybe thirty seconds.

“What the fuck peanut? You interupted me mid-monologue, that was fucking rude you-”

“Thought it would shut you up, but I see that didn’t work.” Logan takes a step back, but is hauled back by hands twisted in the collar of his flannel.

“Oh no, you are not going anywhere until I get an explanation, or more.” Logan arches a brow, hands at his side, not touching Wade. The urge to punch or stab him is rising.

And the urge to kiss him.

Again.

He knows all of the options would work for Wade.

“I gave you an explanation.”

“Grew tired of the claws old man? Don’t wanna stab this supple fle-”

“God you are desperate.” Logan doesn’t know if he means it as an insult or a compliment, but kisses Wade again anyway.

#poolverine #poolverine fic #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool & wolverine #worst wolverine x deadpool #deadpool and wolverine fic #marvel fic #my fic #wolverine fic #wolverine x deadpool #logan howlett x wade wilson #wade wilson x logan howlett #deadpool #deapool fic

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urdreamydoodles · 2 days

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Chaotic Monopoly night with the X-Men

Playing Monopoly maybe wasn't such a good idea

A simple Monopoly game night with Logan, Remy, Kurt, Scott, Jean, Laura, and Rogue quickly turns chaotic as competitive spirits flare and petty rivalries take over. Despite your best efforts to keep the peace, the game spirals into full-blown chaos, leaving everyone more focused on winning than on having fun.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Laura Kinney & Rogue

- It had started as an innocent idea. A simple game night to bring everyone together, to relax and unwind after the week. You had suggested Monopoly, hoping the slow-paced, strategic game would help everyone bond. As you set up the board, everyone seemed in good spirits, laughing and teasing one another. Logan, Remy, Kurt, Scott, Jean, Laura, and Rogue had all agreed to join, and you felt a sense of satisfaction as they gathered around. You had no idea what you were in for.

- Logan was the first to grumble as soon as he saw the game pieces. “I’m not being the damn thimble,” he muttered, reaching for the dog instead. You bit back a smile and handed him the piece, already sensing the tension building. Remy smirked and casually picked up the top hat, twirling it in his fingers like it was some sort of prize. “Look at dis, chérie,” he said, flashing you a grin. “I’ll be runnin’ dis board in no time.”

- You took a deep breath and rolled your eyes playfully as everyone else selected their pieces. Kurt chose the car with a cheerful, “Zis vill be fun, ja?” He seemed optimistic, at least for now. Jean chose the cat, her calm demeanor making you hope she’d be the voice of reason later. Scott picked the battleship, predictably taking his strategy seriously right from the start. Laura grabbed the iron without a word, clearly already plotting her moves in her head, while Rogue chose the boot, eyeing Remy’s top hat with suspicion.

- The first few turns were harmless enough. Everyone moved their pieces across the board, making light jokes and trying to get a feel for the game. But as properties started being bought, the competition heated up. Remy bought up half of the properties on one side of the board, smirking every time he landed on something new. “Better watch out, mes amis,” he said with a wink. “Dis is gonna be my city.”

- Logan was already eyeing him with suspicion, grumbling under his breath whenever he landed on a property Remy owned. “You cheatin’ or somethin’, Gumbo?” Logan growled, narrowing his eyes. Remy just laughed and leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying how much he was already getting under Logan’s skin. You could feel the tension rising, but you tried to keep things light by cracking jokes and making sure everyone had snacks.

- Kurt, ever the optimist, landed on Boardwalk and his whole face lit up. “Oh-ho! Vhat luck!” he said, glancing around the table with a wide smile. “Looks like I’ll be winning after all!” But before he could even celebrate, Scott landed on Park Place and immediately started calculating how to turn this into a deadly duo with his strategic brain. He adjusted his glasses and leaned forward. “This is where the game changes,” he said seriously, ignoring the collective groan around the table.

- Meanwhile, Jean tried to stay neutral, but you could tell she was getting quietly competitive. Every time she landed on a new property, she gave Scott a knowing look as if to say, “I’m not going easy on you.” She stayed calm on the surface, but you could feel the brewing tension between her and Scott as they started subtly battling for dominance on the board.

- Laura, on the other hand, was completely ruthless. She didn’t say much, but every move she made was calculated, her eyes cold and focused. She quickly amassed a row of properties and quietly upgraded them to hotels without anyone noticing. Logan glanced over at her board at one point and raised an eyebrow. “You’re too damn quiet over there, kid. What’re you up to?”

- Rogue was growing more and more frustrated as Remy kept avoiding landing on her properties. Every time he dodged one of her spots, she shot him a glare. “You better land on somethin’ of mine soon, swamp rat,” she muttered. Remy just laughed and leaned over to kiss her cheek, which only made her roll her eyes. “That ain’t gonna save you.”

- The chaos really kicked off when Logan and Scott started getting into it over a trade. Logan wanted one of Scott’s railroads, but Scott, being Scott, refused to give in without a steep price. “C’mon, Summers,” Logan growled, slamming his piece down on the table. “You can’t hold on to everythin’ forever.”

- Scott, ever the strategist, crossed his arms and gave Logan a cool look. “It’s about making smart moves, Logan. Not just impulsive ones.”

- The argument escalated from there, with Logan accusing Scott of being too controlling and Scott firing back that Logan was just mad because he couldn’t win without brute force. Jean tried to step in and mediate, but even she was starting to look annoyed with both of them. “It’s just a game,” she said, though her tone was strained. “Can we all calm down?”

- Things weren’t much better on the other side of the table. Remy was still smirking like he had the whole game in the bag, which was driving Rogue up the wall. “You think you’re so clever, don’t ya?” she snapped after he landed on one of his own properties again. “You’re just gettin’ lucky.”

- Remy grinned at her, clearly enjoying riling her up. “Luck, charm—same thing, chère.” He winked at you, and you had to suppress a laugh as Rogue’s frustration visibly grew. She was clearly getting more competitive by the second, and you could see this Monopoly game was bringing out sides of everyone you hadn’t expected.

- Kurt, bless him, was still trying to keep things positive, but even he was getting swept up in the chaos. When he landed on one of Laura’s hotel properties and had to pay an outrageous sum, he threw his hands up in mock despair. “Ach! Zis is highway robbery!” he exclaimed, though he still managed to laugh. Laura just shrugged, completely unfazed as she collected her cash.

- As the game dragged on, everyone’s patience grew thinner. Logan and Scott’s petty feud continued, with Logan refusing to trade anything with Scott out of spite, and Scott calculating his every move to make sure Logan stayed far behind. Rogue and Remy’s playful bickering had escalated into a full-on rivalry, with Rogue purposely sabotaging Remy’s deals at every opportunity. Laura, meanwhile, was silently dominating the board, and Kurt’s earlier optimism had completely faded as he realized he had no chance of winning.

- You tried to stay neutral, offering to help people with trades and keeping the snacks coming, but even you couldn’t stop the inevitable chaos. As the tension reached a boiling point, Logan finally threw his hands up in frustration. “This is bull!” he yelled, standing up from the table. “I’m done playin’ this stupid game.”

- Scott, ever the leader, just shook his head. “You’re quitting because you can’t handle losing, Logan.”

- Logan shot him a dark look. “No, I’m quittin’ because this is the dumbest game I’ve ever played.”

- The argument continued, with Remy laughing from the sidelines and Rogue rolling her eyes. Jean had given up trying to mediate, and Kurt was just shaking his head in disbelief. Laura was the only one who looked completely satisfied with the outcome, having quietly won the game without anyone noticing.

- In the end, the game board was left in chaos, pieces scattered across the table as everyone stormed off in different directions. You sighed, knowing you’d have to be the one to clean it up later. But as frustrating as it had been, there was something almost endearing about the way everyone had gotten so invested. It wasn’t the peaceful game night you’d envisioned, but it had certainly been memorable.

- As you started picking up the pieces, Remy walked over and gave you a sympathetic smile. “Tough crowd, huh, chère?”

- You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You have no idea.”

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captain039 · 14 hours

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PART 4 The 2029

Old man Logan x reader

Warnings: AOB dynamics, age gap, angst, swearing, mutants, intimacy, eventual smut, claiming, heats, ruts, needles, drug usage, dystopian world, plus size reader, sexual assault,

Mutation: Telekinesis, energy manipulation, telepathy

Notes: Sorry I’ve been so inactive I’m really am tryna finish my Hugh Jackman stories xD

As you lay there on the edge of the large king bed, Charles next to you, Caliban on the small sofa in the room and Logan leaning against the wall looking out the window looking like a guard dog.

You want him to lie down, rest, sleep, the overwhelming urge to be good omega and serve your alpha. You stare at the bedside table a little harshly trying to control yourself and your thoughts, the voices have quieted down and stopped now that you focus on it. Growing up in the omega facility they made you control your powers, forced more like till they discovered a truely mutant canceling agent, so you took too many lessons in controlling your mutations, there had been a few times you sent the guards mad on purpose trying to escape but you would just be sedated till you were willing to cooperate so you gave up and gave in. You see Logan shift a small quiet groan leaving his mouth as you hear his hip pop. It makes you jolt and sit up in worry. The old alphas eyes snap to yours frowning.

“You should be asleep” he speaks softly but gruffly putting on a hard face like he’s not in pain.

“Lie down” you mutter getting off the bed as quiet as you can. He raises his eyebrow at you and you keep his gaze.

“Sit down at least please” you whisper and the old alpha sighs and listens. He sits down carefully the bed dipping under his weight, your mind goes into taking care mode kneeling down and taking his boots off.

“Hey-“ he says surprised but you ignore him taking off his boots and socks and lying them neatly by the bedside table. You take off his jacket too and he lets you, eyes watching you carefully. You fold his jacket and lay it on the bedside table nodding to yourself once you’re happy before gesturing for him to lie down. The old alpha grumbles but does as you say. You nod pleased with yourself you finally got your alpha to settle. The thought runs through your mind, ‘your alpha’ you glance to him seeing as he sighs body tense and no doubt in pain. He closes his eyes as you take up his post by the window figuring someone needs to keep look out. You wonder what he’s thinking about but you don’t peer in his mind, not after what you saw, all that family, the x men and the x mansion. What goes to your mind though is the alpha red headed woman, Jean, her name echoing through your mind like a taunt. She’s dead you saw it saw young Logan dig her claws in her stomach and cry. He was handsome when he was young he’s handsome now in a rugged way. You watch the alphas body relax and his breathing evens out, you’re thankful your own body relaxing as he sleeps. You keep look out eventually sitting down on the floor against the wall. Your head lulls and hangs your eyes closing and body drifting to sleep, you jolt to wake yourself up looking out the window seeing silence. You’re just about to dose off again when you hear it, a helicopter. You’re up looking out the window, you force your mind to reach out, there’s ten soldiers and a whole helicopter.

“We need to leave” you almost scream at the voice by your ear. Logan’s already up, waking up Caliban and Charles picking up the old man.

“Tell Jessica we’re leaving, and to keep her family inside” Logan orders you and you nod as he carries Charles down stairs, Caliban behind him. There’s a shot that rings out though, you half expect pain but feeling nothing till Caliban thuds to the floor. You rush to the mutant, holding the home in his chest waking the family you were staying with.

“They’re here for us stay inside!” Logan orders and growls alpha tone coming through as the mates look to each other and hold their son close.

“I’m sorry” you whisper to Caliban staying by him. Liam rushes downstairs and you hear him talking to Logan distantly as Jessica urges her son in the bathroom. Logan comes back up picking up Caliban too with a grim face. You follow them outside seeing Liam throwing some bags into their truck. Charles is in the backseat and Logan plays Caliban in the tray of the Ute. Liam chucks the keys to Logan giving you a small smile before going into the house again to protect his family. Your heart fills and beats rapidly before you jump into the truck. Logan takes off quickly into the corn fields. Your heart pounds as you look back to the house seeing the soldiers and the helicopter flying overhead. You pray the family doesn’t get hurt. The alpha drives quickly apparently knowing where to go, you assume Liam told him as you end up on a named dirt road.

You’re staring back at the house now distance your eyes going wide the world slowing as a loud explosion goes off the and house goes up in flames. Your heart shatters and breaks you let out a cry before you’re grabbed and brought into the old alphas lap somehow. He’s pushed the seat back got one hand on the wheel the other tightly around you.

“Don’t look” he says pressing your head to his neck in silent order. Your body shakes and you cry against him. His hands on your neck keeping a gently but firm hold as you continue to cry and he continues to drive. Your arms are stuck between your bodies as you try to process what just happened.

As the car finally stops on the side of the road by a forest you slowly wake up from your slumber and mumble incoherently at the warmth under you. You open your eyes feel the warm alpha under you breathing evenly and shallowly, he’s asleep. You glance to the backseat seeing Charles asleep also and you think about falling back to sleep yourself before you realise Caliban is dead in the back of the truck. You sit up slowly from Logan’s shoulder seeing his head leant against the window eyes closed. His arms tighten around you suddenly a frown on his face and you curse yourself for moving. His eyes snap open like a startled animal and you freeze on instinct at the sudden anxiety filled alpha scent let out by him. You act on instinct, cup his cheeks his frown deepening before he recognises you in his waking up state. You brush your thumbs over his cheeks feel the surprisingly soft beard hair he has coating his face. He watches you, like a predator, eyes narrowed slightly as you gently move your fingers through his beard testing smiling softly to yourself before his scent calms down fully. His arms haven’t moved from around you, well sort of around you now that you’ve lifted yourself up. His hands rest on the spot just above hips not gripping anymore just lying there. You want to kiss him. You look to his lips shamelessly and wonder what they’d be like pressed against yours in such a moment. Your eyes move to movement though, Charles moving in the back and suddenly Logan’s guiding you off his lap and onto the passenger side. It stings a little, but you understand as he gets out and helps Charles, takes him to the woods behind some bushes. You sag against the leather in the truck, you need to go to the toilet too, you need a damn shower also, but you’re not going out in the woods on the side of the road.

After Logan helps Charles back in the car he grabs a shovel from the truck and heads back to the forest. You know what he’s doing, digging a grave for Caliban. You get out the truck after a while, close the door gently and head to Logan. There’s a stale scent in the air from him as he digs, muscles tense, his eyes glaring at the earth. You wonder if you should help, see if there’s another shovel but the look Logan gives you is heart breaking and you go to him instead wrap your arms around him and comfort him like any omega would. He keeps one hand on the on the shovel one by his side as you force him to bury his face in your neck. He’s so tense and his body no doubt aches, you can smell the emotions in his scent he lets off, feel them even. He leans into you though and you know you did the right thing as his free hand rests on your back, large fingers spread out as he breathes you in. You don’t expect him to cry even though it would do him good, he’s too tense and out in the open to fully let go, but this, this you can offer him.

#logan x reader #x reader #aob #hugh jackman #old man Logan #old man Logan x reader #Logan 2029 #wolverine #Wolverine x reader #alpha Logan #alpha Logan x reader #alpha old man Logan

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