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wanderinginksplot · 10 months

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Commander Stone + "Let's hear your side of the story"

Commander Stone x gn!reader (no use of 'y/n' and no pronouns). Romantic.

Word Count: 2,700

Warnings: an overexcited massiff and some minor awkwardness.

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Your arm was starting to go numb.

It wasn’t unusual for this type of situation, but it did mean that you would have to wrap things up soon. There was only so long your muscles could withstand that level of strain before you would end up feeling the effect.

“Mo, down!” you ordered, putting as much authority into the command as you could muster. Your massiff - still young enough to have the energy level of a puppy with the muscle mass of a fully-grown adult - fell back on his haunches and retreated to your side. He panted up at you, displaying every ivory tooth he possessed.

“No use in acting sweet now,” you informed him. “Not after you tried to get in that waste bin. There’s nothing in there for you.”

Mo tipped his head to the side and you had to fight against the urge to pat his giant, dumb head. He was cute, but you didn’t want to reward bad behavior.

Besides, that head - and the rest of him - really wasn’t dumb at all. Massiffs were notoriously smart, and Mo was no exception. He liked to pretend he had no idea what was going on, but there was always a reason behind what he did.

In any case, your sternness hadn’t been stern enough, because Mo leaned his head against your thigh and stared adoringly up at you. You lasted until his purple tongue lolled out from his jaw, but then it was just too cute.

You sighed and scratched Mo’s head while his hindquarters wiggled in pleasure. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

As if to reinforce your theory that he was smarter than he let on, Mo gave a little whine and panted up at you.

“I know, buddy,” you soothed. “We’re on our way home, I promise.”

Mo followed eagerly when you started back toward your small apartment. Massiffs were on the larger end of apartment-dwelling animals, solidly built with more muscle than most humanoids.

That was helpful in situations such as this, because there was simply no way you would be able to force Mo in a direction he didn’t like.

Mo - apparently deciding to display psychic abilities previously unknown among massiffs - must have read your mind, because he bolted in a direction that was definitely not the one in which you wanted to go. And since you had looped the leash around your hand and all the way up your forearm, you were along for the ride.

Sprinting behind your massiff wasn’t a dignified way to travel through Coruscant, but you couldn’t deny that it was effective. Passers-by mostly dove out of your way, though a few did try to snag Mo’s collar and help you. You could have told them there was no use - catching his collar would only lead to two people being towed behind the excited massiff. As you ran, you worked at the length of leash that held you captive.

After you rounded a corner toward the government sector of Coronet City, you had just a moment to recognize that there was a Coruscant Guard trooper on the sidewalk ahead of you. He had stopped, crimson-painted helmet aimed at you and Mo in apparent curiosity.

“Watch out!” you called as you approached at full speed.

The trooper backed toward the building he was standing beside, but Mo altered course and continued directly toward him. You recognized what was going to happen and continued working to detangle the leash that locked you to the massiff. It was no use. When Mo hit the plastoid-armored figure, you fell with both of them.

“I’m sorry, really,” you apologized frantically. “He’s harmless, just excited. Give me a second and I’ll get him under control. Sorry, please-”

“It’s okay,” the man told you, the pleasant rumble of his voice augmented by the speakers of his helmet. It was a good thing, too, since Mo’s rough tongue was rasping over the plastoid of the trooper’s chest and it made hearing him difficult.

You relaxed slightly at the Guardsman’s assurance. When someone saw an overexcited massiff, they tended to assume the worst. You were hyper-aware of the blaster at the man’s waist. Shooting an animal would be an overreaction, but one moment of panic…

With the buzz of fear receding from your chest, you managed to get your feet under you. When that was accomplished, you pulled sharply at Mo’s lead and coupled it with a command: “Mo, back.”

The massiff pulled a final time with a beseeching look at you, but gave up at your implacable face. He gave a dissatisfied huff and sat back on his haunches, planting his weight on your right foot.

You swiveled around him, offering your free hand to the trooper. That helmet was aimed at you once more, though he didn’t say anything. “Let me help you up.”

“I’m too heavy,” he eventually told you.

“I’m well anchored,” you countered, gesturing to Mo and his place on your foot. With a wiggle of your fingers, you said, “Come on.”

The trooper wrapped a gloved hand around yours and pulled. Admittedly, he was pretty heavy, but not impossible - especially when compared to an excitable massiff.

When the poor man was on his feet, you apologized again. “I really am sorry about that. I don’t know why he was being so bad.”

Mo whined, settling more heavily on your foot. “Yes, Mo, I’m talking about you. You were very bad.”

“Hang on a minute,” the trooper said, reaching up to remove his helmet. When you could see him clearly, you were struck by tanned skin and a strong nose. His hair was cut short, but not short enough to hide the way it would curl if given the opportunity to grow long enough. Most importantly, his eyes were kind and his mouth told of a man who liked to smile more than frown.

Those kind eyes slid to study Mo. “Everyone should get a chance to give an explanation.”

You hesitated, trying to understand. “Even massiffs?”

“Especially massiffs,” he told you. He knelt to fix Mo with a stern look. “Okay, let’s hear your side of the story.”

Mo parted his jaws to pant at the man, giving a loud grumble as his tongue curled.

The Guardsman nodded gravely, glancing up at you. “He makes a convincing argument.”

“He is studying to be a lawyer,” you joked.

“Huh, a massiff of many talents.” The trooper looked back down just in time for Mo to press his muzzle against the man’s chestplate. “Mo, is it? Great name.”

“Nickname,” you corrected automatically, exasperated with yourself a moment later. This man didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah?” he asked anyway. “What’s Mo short for?”

“Motivator Drive,” you answered, voice sheepish. The feeling only intensified when the man gave you a confused look. “He had a lot of energy as a puppy. Like most puppies, actually, but more intense. The vet and I had a joke that he could power a hyperdrive, so I named him Motivator Drive. Mo.”

The trooper chuckled at the shrug that accompanied your explanation. He stood up once more. “I’ve heard worse. Way worse, actually. Some of my brothers would probably be jealous of Mo’s name.”

“Speaking of names,” you started, hoping you weren’t about to cross some kind of line. “What’s yours?”

“Stone,” the man told you. “Commander Stone, Coruscant Guard. And you?”

You gave him your name and he smiled. “Nice to meet you. Here, let me help with this.”

He drew your arm closer and started picking at the hopeless tangle of Mo’s leash. You watched in silence, impressed. Stone had made more progress in ten seconds than you had in a much longer time. Of course, it probably helped that you weren’t running behind Mo anymore.

The moment you were free, Mo jumped up, planting his forepaws on Stone’s torso.

“Mo!” you chided, though it was undermined by the way Stone laughed and scratched under the massiff’s chin. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what is up with him today. He doesn’t normally approach strangers, and he’s never this physical with them.”

“It’s my own fault,” Stone brushed off. “I stopped by the Guard’s massiff training area today. I’m probably covered with all kinds of interesting smells. In fact…”

As you and Mo watched - you with fascination and Mo with a sharp eagerness - Stone reached into a small pouch at the waist of his armor. He pulled out a treat and you tightened your grip on Mo’s lead.

Stone held it up. “Is it okay if Mo has this?”

“Well, he has been very bad today…” you said loudly. Mo whined even louder and you relented. “Fine, I suppose he can have one treat.”

Stone tossed the treat toward Mo, who leapt up to snap it out of the air in his powerful jaws. He was already crunching happily when his paws met the ground once more.

“Were you going that way?” Stone asked, gesturing in the direction Mo had been dragging you.

“No, actually,” you said. “Mo dragged me off course. We’re actually heading the opposite direction. Service sector.”

“Long walk,” Stone commented. “Want some company?”

“If you have the time.” You congratulated yourself on how casual that sounded. You liked what you knew about Stone so far. Walking together would give you some time to decide whether you wanted to push your acquaintanceship further.

“Of course,” he told you. “Besides, I have to be able to step in if Mo decides to get a little wild again.”

“I do pass a few restaurants on my way home,” you admitted. “He’s hungry, and there’s always a chance he’ll decide to try his luck at begging.”

“Well, if Mo is hungry, there’s no time to waste,” Stone decreed. He gestured in the direction of the distant service sector. “Lead on.”

You did so, retracing your steps to where you had been when Mo decided to take you on an adventure. “By any chance, is this the way you walked?”

Stone looked sheepish, but nodded. “Just a few minutes before you caught up with me. Mo has a remarkably good nose.”

“For F-O-O-D?” you asked, chuckling as you spelled out the word. “Absolutely. Anything to do with it, he’s interested in.”

“Even the word?”

“Especially the word,” you confirmed.

“The smartest massiff and he isn’t even part of the ARF department,” Stone shook his head in consternation. “And his full name is Motivator Drive.”

Mo craned his head to look back at Stone, letting out a sharp bark as if in answer.

You laughed. “That was massiff for, ‘Don’t make fun of my name’. You know, in case you aren’t fluent.”

“Apologies, Motivator Drive,” Stone said, pressing a hand to his chestplate. “No disrespect meant. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t been recruited by the GAR yet.”

“Yet?” you echoed, lifting a brow. “I figured this was going to turn into a job offer.”

Stone just laughed, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as you walked.

“So you’re part of the ARF department?” you asked eventually.

“No, I’m not,” Stone told you and you unintentionally did a double-take at him. You had asked the question to make conversation, never expecting to get a negative answer. Stone seemed amused by your confusion, adding, “I’m a commander.”

“I- I guess I don’t know much about how the Coruscant Guard is organized,” you admitted, wincing at your own ignorance. Admittedly, it didn’t come up very often, but it was still something you felt you should have known.

“Oh, that’s easy!” Stone assured you. He then launched into a detailed explanation so full of titles and military slang that you could even begin to understand it. But Stone looked so earnest that you couldn’t help but try to look interested.

In the meantime, you checked in with yourself. You liked Stone, but did you like him? Coruscant was the most densely populated planet in the known galaxy and Coronet City was incomprehensibly massive. Even if you were looking for each other, there were good odds that you and Stone wouldn’t run into each other again unless you planned to do so.

Yes, you decided, you did like him. More than that, you trusted him. When was the last time you met someone you trusted? It had been far too long. And yet you hadn’t hesitated a moment when agreeing to - among other things - let Stone see where you lived.

“Does that clear things up?” Stone asked.

After you took a moment to see whether he was joking, you offered a self-deprecating smile. “Uh, not really. But I definitely understand that you’re not an ARF trooper, so that’s something.”

“Not an ARF,” he confirmed, returning your smile.

“In that case, what were you doing with the GAR’s massiffs?”

“Well, you know better than most people that massiffs are energetic and curious,” Stone started, aiming his smile at Mo for a second before directing it back your way. “They get bored in the kennels, even with all of their toys and the focus on training exercises. We’re encouraged to stop by and spend some time with them if we can.”

“Training, toys, and attention?” You shook your head. “That sounds like massiff heaven. I feel like Mo needs something to focus on or he ends up getting destructive.”

“How does that work when you’re not home?” Stone asked.

You shrugged. “Most of my furniture has teeth marks on it. When I’m not at my apartment, he’s alone. He does well, all things considered, but if I work late, I know I’m coming home to find at least one thing destroyed.”

“You don’t have a…” Stone hesitated and you tried not to smile. This part of a meeting was always awkward, but it seemed like Stone was at least a little interested in seeing more of you. Eventually, he settled on: “Any friends who can drop by to see him?”

“My friends all work,” you told him. “You know how it is.”

“I do,” he admitted. “But with all of the different shifts, it seems like there’s always someone in the GAR barracks.”

And there was the opening you had been hoping for. “Sounds like a difficult place to sleep. Don’t you have anywhere else to stay?”

“Of course,” Stone told you, and you struggled to keep your expression neutral. “But I doubt it would be any easier to sleep in the Guard headquarters.”

The hope rekindled in your chest. It certainly sounded as if Stone wasn’t seeing anyone. You gave a light hum. “I imagine it wouldn’t. Funny, it seems like we have opposite problems.”

“Isn’t that how it always goes?” Stone joked, nodding at another Coruscant Guard trooper you passed.

You were getting close to the service sector, and your apartment was on the closer edge. If you were going to propose seeing Stone again, this was probably the best time. Later would make it too rushed, but you were close enough that - if he said no - any awkwardness wouldn’t last long.

“Is there any chance-”

“Do you want to hang out sometime?”

Stone blinked at you. Dimly, you recognized that he had been in the middle of a sentence when you interrupted. You pushed aside the sheepishness and held eye contact with him as you waited for an answer.

“Would you believe me if I said I was asking the same thing?” Stone asked.

“Really?”

He nodded. “I mean, I was going to call it a date, but I don’t mind being more casual if that’s what you want.”

“Casual with the option for a real date sounds good to me,” you told him. “Any ideas on what we should do?”

Stone thought for a moment. “Give me a day or two to work out the details, but I think I can sneak us into the massiff kennels. If you’re interested?”

“Interested in being surrounded by massiffs?” you clarified. “Incredibly.”

“Then let’s exchange comlink frequencies and I’ll let you know as soon as I have it figured out.”

Mo wasn’t happy about the delay, but you couldn’t stop smiling. Stone seemed to have the same problem.

---

Author's Note - This one-shot was inspired by the person whose overly excited pit bull slipped his leash and ran at me full speed while she repeated over and over that he was friendly. Luckily, I've been around dogs often enough to know an excited dog from an angry one and caught him. We had a lovely chat and I got to pet an adorable pit bull, so it was a good time!

And I dearly love Stone! This story may have made more sense if it centered on Hound, but I figure no one can work with Hound and not learn to appreciate massiffs at least a little bit. Anyway, thanks for reading!

You can sign up for my taglist here or find other works on my masterlist.

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#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #reader insert fic #coruscant guard #commander stone #stone #stone x reader #stone x you #ink's fics #clone troopers deserve better

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randomfanner · 7 days

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Runaway (Stone x OC/Reader)

Hello! This is my first Ramshackle fic. I might end up doing more but I really hope I don’t because I have another fic to finish! Anyway content warnings: past abuse, drug use, anxiety. summary: Anastasia’s cruel subconscious rudely snapped her from sleep. She could feel the cold sweat rolling itself down her back and her breathing was heavier. Reality set in quickly as she realized she was in a tent rather than her old bedroom. She looked at the three Scraps who peacefully slept beside her.

‘Worthless Brat! How come you can’t do anything right?!”

Anastasia’s cruel subconscious rudely snapped her from sleep. She could feel the cold sweat rolling itself down her back and her breathing was heavier. Reality set in quickly as she realized she was in a tent rather than her old bedroom. She looked at the three Scraps who peacefully slept beside her.

Her eyes shifted away from them. It felt wrong to still think of them as Scraps when they were kind enough to accept her into their group. She reached down next to where she slept and picked up her glasses. She fumbled around her bag and the limited amount of her possessions, zipping a secret pocket she pulled out a journal.

Careful shifting the blanket off of her, She slinked out of the tent, doing everything she could not to wake the others. Her foot got caught on something in the tent and she tumbled into the alley way, a hand covering her mouth to make sure she didn’t make any noise as she found herself facing the cool night air. She turned to look back at them, going still as she waited for any signs that one had been woken up.

When she figured she was in the clear, she finally made herself out of the alleyway and pressed up against the building. She settled her back up against the wall and laid there. Anastasia stared out at the empty street in front of the alley before tilting her head back, she could hear the quiet thunk as the back of her skull touched the coarse brick.

Some things never do change, whether it be in the ‘cushy’ walls of one of the manors or it be out on the desolate streets. Anastasia had foolishly believed simply leaving that hellhole would stop the nightmares from plaguing herâ€¦ She flipped open the leather journal and spun the pencil around as she landed on a fresh blanket page, tapping the eraser to her chin.

“What are yae doing out ‘ere?”

Anastasia clapped the book shut and shoved it behind her, almost jumping out of her skin to see who had spoken to her. She rested a hand on her chest. “Stoneâ€¦ I am sorry, did-did I wake you?”

“Naw,” he walked over to the other side of her, pressing his back against the wall before spreading out his legs as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out his box of mismatched cigarettes and pulled one out. “Are yae going to answer my question?”

“It’s nothing.”

His cigarette dipped down from a moment before he flicked it up. “Then why have yae been sneaking out for the last few nights?”

Anastasia tensed up. “I am sorryâ€¦”

“I am not askin’ for an apology,” Stone looked at her took a long drag of his cigarette. “I am tryin’ to make sure yer alright, alright?” the gray smoke poured from his mouth as he looked at the sky. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I am not gonna force you.”

Anatasia looked at his profile for a bit, it took her a moment to long to realize she had been staring at him. “â€¦ It really is nothing,” Anastasia shifted her head to look at the gray road. “Justâ€¦ bad dreams.”

“It isn’t nothing if it is keeping you up all night,” Stone grinded the nub into the ground. “You are a Scrap now, if something is distressing you, we are all going to want to help youâ€¦”

“You all have already helped me so muchâ€¦. I don’t want to bother you. A-and besides, there isn’t much that can be doneâ€¦”

Stone rolled his eyes. “It isn’t fuckin’ botherin’ us,” Stone pulled out his vodka bottle and took a swig from it before placing it down in the dirt, grinding it into the dirt and stone. “Trustin’ might not come naturally, it might even be terrifyin’, but yer a scrap nowâ€¦” he looked to the side and shrugged, thinking of Vinnie’s words. “Scraps have each other’s back.“

“... I will tryâ€¦.” Anatasia meant it in earnest.

Stone grabbed his package of cigarettes again and went towards the corner, pulling out a cigarette that looked different from the others. It was thicker and she could clearly see where it had been rolled. He lit it and took a long drag before holding it out to her. “Here, this might help.”

“Oh, I-I don’t-”

“I know you don’t smoke, it isn’t a cig. It’s pot.”

“Oh-” It wasn’t something she had access to directly, but Anastasia had actually read about some of the medical benefits of Marijuana. One of them was helping with sleep. She carefully took it and held it like he had, trying to take an equal as long drag. Not that she got very far before she was hacking. She shoved a hand over her mouth

Stone carefully took the joint from her fingers, putting his other hand on her back, helping to steady her. “Don’t worry about ‘em, those two can sleep through anything.” After she managed to breathe a bit Stone moved away, taking another hit before offering it back.

Anastasia took a few deep breaths before she picked it up again, taking a smaller hit this time. She began to cough as she offered it back to Stone. He took one more hit and offered it back for the last time. After she had taken her last hit he put it out and back into the box. “That’s enough for your first time.”

“Thank youâ€¦” she said. She turned back to looking at the road and after a few seconds her entire body went slack, staring up at the sky.

Stone watched her and a tiny, tiny grin came to his face. “Are you still in there?”

“Huh?” Anastasia snapped out of it and looked at him. “Sorryâ€¦” her eyes fell and she began to stare at his chest, beginning to completely space out again.

“Got anything in particular on yer mind?” he asked.

“... I really wanna cuddle with youâ€¦”

Stone tensed up a bit and cleared his throat. He looked to the side before his irises rolled back over to her. “Fine. Ya get five minutes.”

With a bit more excitement than she would have expected from herself, she clung to his waist. Her head fell into his chest and she closed her eyes. After only about two minutes of resting on top of him, she was out.

Stone held his arms out before his body slowly relaxed. He took her glasses off and carefully folded them up, putting them on top of the journal. After a few minutes he huffed, his arms relaxing to her waist. “Fineâ€¦. Guess you can stay a little longer than five minutesâ€¦”

Skipp sat up in bed and looked around. Something was missing, he knew it. After a second it clicked. “Vinnie! Vinnie! Stone and Anastasia are missing!”

Vinnie immediately sat up and went out of the tent. Her eyes scanned around and she rounded the corner. Both of her feet planted into the ground and the expression of concern shifted to a stupidly big grin. “Oooohhh- I know why they were sneakin’ off-”

“What happened are the-” Skipp stopped as he rounded the corner and he let out a loud gasp. Stone opened one eye and glared.

“What is it?” he grumbled. His hand on Anastasia’s waist tapped her and he looked down. Both of his hands flew off and Anastasia remained knocked out.

“Stone- don't tell me you got a crush on Anastasia-” Skipp whisper-yelled.

Stone’s cheeks turned bright pink. “I don’t have a damn crush.”

“Oohhhhhhh you dooooon’t?” Vinnie had a tease in her tone as she showed off all of her teeth. “Whatcha doing then?”

“She wasn’t sleepin’ well, nothing more than that,” Stone shook Anastasia’s shoulders which jolted her awake. She looked at him and immediately flung herself off of his body.

“Good morning! I am sorry!”

“Yer fine, it’s just morning-” Stone grumbled as he got up. “Come on, we got better things to do than just being in awe.”

“Stone! I think it is a good thing!”

“It’s alright you know,” Vinnie continued to tease.

Anya took a breath and put a hand on her bright red cheeks. She reached down and opened her glasses before sliding them on with one hand.

That was one way to start a the morning, but she couldn’t deny she did feel a lot better.

#ramshackle vinnie #ramshackle stone #stone ramshackle #stone x reader #stone x oc #fluffy #angst #hurt/comfort #nightmares #Stone is a not so secret softie #vinnie ramshackle #skipp ramshackle

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bullet-prooflove · 2 years

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Kinktober: Lingerie (Peter Stone x Reader)

Peter loved when you wore thigh high stockings, he loves the way the material feels against your skin as his fingertips chase up along the length of the seam. You had been teasing him all day. Sending pictures, glimpses of the suspender straps underneath your skirt, the flash of lace at the top of your thighs. He regretted that he hadn’t been around much lately, he was snowed under with the constant onslaught of cases, and you’d had been working the late shift.

When you’d come by to see him tonight, he’d been grateful. He promised he just needed to sign a few things, finish his report. You’d taken a seat on the couch across from his desk, allowing him to view those shapely legs of yours underneath a black pencil skirt that you’d worn to court this afternoon.

He grasped the pencil tightly in his hand, scribbling his notes and pausing every few seconds when he heard the rustle of fabric.

You were so fucking distracting. You were reading a novel, a sultry pout upon your lips as you uncrossed and then recrossed your legs. The sound of those stockings kept capturing his attention. You did it again and he could swear he caught a peek of your naked flesh before it disappeared from view. His dick was aching, it throbbed in the confines of this trousers, rubbing against the zipper as you leaned forward and shrugged out of the matching black suit jacket.

That white shirt you’re wearing underneath? The one with the cuffs rolled up to the elbow?

That belonged to him.

The pencil in his hand snaped, the noise so fucking audible it was like someone has detonated a bomb in the room. You looked up from your book and Peter swore he can see the outline of black sheer clinging to your skin under that shirt.

“Something the matter Peter?” you asked him, raising to your feet.

He can’t take it anymore. He kept imagining what you were wearing underneath your clothes. He pushed away from his desk before making his way towards you, locking the office door. He looped an arm around your waist, drawing you taut against his muscular chest. He could feel the slender material under the crisp fabric of his shirt, the underwire of the bra biting into him.

“I need to see it.” He whined into your ear, his breath ghosting across the shell.

“Oh Peter, you sound so needy.” You pout as his heated palms caress along the curve of your spine. His fingers toy with the zipper of your skirt.

“You have been driving me crazy all fucking day.” He murmurs against your neck, his teeth grazing that erotic little space just underneath the hinge of your jaw. “Please baby, I need to see you.”

You place your hand on his chest before you withdraw. For a second Peter looks heartbroken before you use your fingertips to exert the slightest pressure, pushing him down towards the couch. He sits, his legs open, his hands rubbing up and down the thighs of his trousers like an alcoholic at a bar trying to distract himself from craving a drink.

You reach behind you, unzipping the rest of your skirt until it slips from your hips and lands in a pool at your feet. His shirt hangs just above your thighs, allowing him a mere glimpse of your naked mound. He was wrong before, it wasn’t a suspender belt you were wearing, it was something much more elaborate, something new. It sent a pule of lightening all the way down to his cock as he thought of you fingering the material and choosing it with him in mind.

He unbuttoned his trousers, his hand enclosing on his cock as he guided it out of his boxers. It sprung up, gorgeous, erect and throbbing.

“Impatient, are we?” you remarked, slowly undoing the buttons of the white shirt until it hung open.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He uttered as he began to stroke his dick.

His thumb swept over the head, smearing that deviant drop of pre-cum that leaked from the tip. You allowed the shirt to fall from your shoulders. His breath hitched as he drank you in ravenously.

He’d never seen anything like it. A sheer body suit with the side panels cut out revealing your supple skin. The cups of the bra dipped, showcasing your glorious breasts in a way that made him want to get his mouth all over them. The panties were crotchless and already he could see the glisten of your wetness as it besmirched the fabric. You leaned back against his desk, perching upon the edge of it.

“You work too hard Peter, maybe I should give you something else to think about the next time you’re sitting at this desk.” Your voice was low and sultry as you spoke, your legs parting as your fingertips trailed across the inner thigh of your stockings. “Baby I’m going to make such a mess.”

That final ounce of control snapped. Peter was on his feet and stalking towards you, his green eyes glowing with ferocity. He swiped his hand across the desk, sending a collection of items hurtling onto the floor before his fingers delved between your legs. The touch of his heated fingertips on your naked clit drew a gasp from your lips as he traced a slow, methodical pattern that sent a flush of sparks erupting through your body.

“You’re such a fucking tease.” He muttered, his free hand gripping your thigh. His fingertips dug into the material of the stocking allowing it to scrape across your skin. It was a delicious sensation, your head tipped back as two of his fingers sank deep inside of you. “Such a dirty girl, getting off on torturing me like that.”

Fuck, he felt so good when he was like this, so rampant and wild. This was why you had worn the lingerie to his workplace, why you’d sent him filthy pictures with just a hint of what was underneath. Each act cut at his restraint, until it broke and the only thing, he could think of was fucking you right here on the desk.

His palm came to rest on the centre of your chest guiding you back until you were lying spread out on his desk, your hands on either side of your head, your hair fanned out across it. He withdrew his fingers from your pussy. You whimpered at the loss of contact, arching when his fingertips hooked the cups of the bra and dragged the fabric down under your breasts. Those pert nipples of yours stood at attention as he rolled them between his fingers, leaving you writhing and moaning. His hands trailed down the curve of your waist until they came to rest on your hips, grasping them and pulling you flush against him. You could feel the tip of his cock running up the length of your moist slit as his eyes met yours, skin flushed, and pupils blown.

“I want to see you to cum for me, laid out like this.” He told you. “I want to look at this desk and remember how fucking good you feel around my cock.”

The cry that left your lips was ruinous as he thrust into you slowly. You heard his exhale as he bottomed out, guiding your stockinged thighs around his waist as he leaned over you. His scorching mouth enclosed on your nipple, drawing it into his mouth as he began to fuck you in earnest. He sucked harder, his fingers slipping between the two of you and working your clit in time with this movements. His dick pistoned in and out of you, dragging over that sweet spot each and every time.

You were loud, the loudest he’d ever heard you and he understood that you were claiming this space as your own. Leaving your mark on it so whenever he sat here, he would remember how fucking good you looked.

You were a whimpering mess under him, nails scrapped his skin, head tipped back skin flushed. You chanted his name like a mantra and fuck if it didn’t tip him over the edge. He took you with him, biting down on your soft skin and blurring the boundary of pleasure and pain. It was as if a thousand tiny stars erupted though every one of your synapses as you begged him to keep going, to cum inside of you. His hips surged forward as his release spilled into your inviting form. His lips met yours, his hand coming to caress your cheek as he kissed you.

“I don’t think I can ever look at this desk the same way again.” He laughed breathlessly between languid kisses.

Your smiled back, your hands threading through his golden hair and drawing him back to you.

“That was the whole point.”

#peter stone x reader #peter stone #ada peter stone #stone x reader #peter stone x you #kinktober 22 #kinktober 2022 #lingerie #law and order special victims unit #law and order: special victims unit #law and order: svu #law and order svu

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obsessed2fics · 1 year

Text

What's up, folks! I've been wanting to write a series about Stone and the reader for a while. But I can't decide the length of the chapters (actually, I don't wanna bore you). If you could help me, it would be great...

#agent stone #sonic movie #sonic movie 2 #fanfic #stone x reader #agent stone x reader #new

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zqcky01 · 2 days

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Could you pretty please do a fic where the Reader (Any gender) calls Stone "Pretty boy" or something like that? I think that would be funny.

That's all, thank you :)

What’s Cooking Good Looking?

Stone x Reader

a/n: I love pretty men

❢◥ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◆ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ◤❢

Stone stood in a lone alleyway, smoke leaking from his cigarette. His back against the wall, his gaze wandered off to the side. He daydreamed as he sighed.

You stumbled upon the alleyway he was in, you smiled and walked over to him. But you stopped in the middle of the alleyway. You saw the way the sun shined onto his pale skin. You felt the air getting caught in your throat.

You saw how his lips moved, holding the cigarette in his mouth. Your eyes wandered around his face, then up and down his body. Your cheeks flushed.

Stone glanced over to you, raising an eyebrow. You noticed him staring. You stayed silent, flustered.

“Pretty boy.” You coughed out. Stone jumped at your voice. Stone titled his head to the side. “What?” Stone muttered, dropping his cigarette onto the ground and stomped on it.

“Did you just call me—“ “pretty boy? Yeah I did.” You said walking over to him and leaning against his shoulder.

“Were you in a boy band?” “Maybe.”

#x you #ramshackle x you #ramshackle x reader #oneshot #stone x reader ramshackle #stone x reader #x reader #fluff #ramshackle stone #silly

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artistidiot · 3 days

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Stone x Impatient/Stubborn!Reader

scrap ver,

Requested by- no one

You were a Impatient, and very stubborn. And you don't listen either. You've been caught pickpocketing some random rich person. And you went to try again...

"I think doing this again would get us in more trouble than we need- And your not even here." He groaned, looking for you. Seeing that you've successfully picked pocket someone without getting caught. "I got it!" You said all giddy that you stole from the rich. Stone sighed, before taking a sip of his liquor. "Your too much." "But ya love me!" "Ya, I know. But seriously, don't do dumb shit like that again." Stone replied, holding your hand as they head back.

Sorry if this was cheesy and short. But I'm giggling, kicking my feet and twirling my hair because y'all are to nice when you guys say this shit is good- 😭💓

#x reader #head cannon #ramshakle show #fanfic #stone ramshackle #stone x reader #ramshackle x reader

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the-whispers-of-death · 25 days

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Reader who, despite looking like a raccoon who just crawled out of a dumpster (looking disheveled and dark eyebags) actually gets a lot of sleep and sleeps almost everywhere

On couches on floors on roofs in loud parties but his most favorite place to sleep is in Stone's arms

Reader just hobbling over to Stone and crawling into his lap to sleep

Stone kissing his tired raccoon boyfriends forehead as he snoozes while rubbing under his eyes admiring his eyebags

Reader nuzzling his face into Stone's pecs they're like 2 soft pillows!

(I NEED TO CUDDLE STONE SO BADLY! also I need a nap :<)

Stone loves his sleepy boyfriend! He'd gladly carry you around with him so you can sleep in his arms (he much prefers you sleeping in his arms than anywhere he can't protect you). Someone tries to interrupt your nap and Stone almost pulls out his sidearm to shoot them, because he doesn't mess with you getting your sleep.

It's perfect, your sleepiness, because then he can cuddle you for hours on end without feeling like he's so clingy. Rest your head on his soft pecs, he has you.

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tarjapearce · 6 months

Text

Dr. Michael Stone

Mad Scientist variant! Miguel O'Hara x Spider!f! Reader

art by @Spiderthingcoo on X

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Smut, Breeding Kink, Mild dub-con, Oral sex (F receiving), possessive behaviors, rough electroplay, Questionable morals, Dark Miguel, manhandling, yandere scientist (I guess?) P in V, isolation, edging, female anatomy, Nipple play, dumbification, Michael Stone is a walking redflag. No proofread, objectification, power play.

Summary: From all the variants of Miguel you could've encountered, you met him.

A|N: Inspired by @Spiderthingcoo and Halloween ✨

Pt. 2

Clink

The sound repetitive and echoing in your hazy mind, luring you out of the slumber you had been forced to. Eyes heavy with something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

A sharp inhale gave you enough courage to part your lids enough to reckon your surroundings. Blurry and wet eyesight slowly came into a focus and clear view of where you were. A lab.

How had you ended up here? Where was Miguel? Why wasn't Lyla making fun of your passing?

The explosion, of course.

A weakened groan escaped past dry and chapped lips, while your mind tried to recollect and organize the memories it created before going on a blackout.

The mission was simple, try and track the anomaly. Rhino. But the villian wasn't up for dialogue and had sent you flying against a wall, damaging your watch. Miguel had promised to fix it once you were back at HQ.

But the damage had been severe enough to not only electrocute you, but to cause an explosion within the already open portal. A boom powerful enough to throw you out of the current timeline and swallow you into another one, much to Miguel's distress. And then, nothing.

Pure black darkness.

Pristine white walls elegantly dressed with technology you had never seen before. The machine whirrings and hummings kept your eyes wandering from one extreme to another, trying to find anything that would be out of place. To your dismay, nothing indicated to be in such state.

Except for one thing.

Sitting in a simple chair, was a man clad in white, blending in with his environment. If it wasn't for his titanium rimmed glasses and their reflection, his tan skin and a very familiar looking face, he'd go undetected under your radar.

But your ever trusting spider senses alerted you of his presence. His red eyes bore into you, stalking, awaiting; preying. Impassiveness and stoicism plastered on his beautiful face.

A glacial chill ran down your spine.

"M-Miguel?" You rasped in the admist of your drowsiness

The man's eye glinted, dangerous and curious as he stood. His hair wavy and silky, graciously slicked back, His smirk deepened as he walked right before you, watching you with such marvel it made your breath hitch.

"Michael." The Boss' doppelganger corrected.

A stupor spreaded through your legs. Your arms had gone numb long ago. Another late realization as you looked at your limbs, expanded and trapped in the metal contraption, like a crucifix. Your legs remained separated, toes barely touching the floor and completely bare before him.

Panic rose as he placed a white gloved and immaculate hand on your cheek. Miguel was always speaking about the variants of the villains that he often forgot to mention about his own.

This one in particular was one to be extremely wary of. Dr. Michael Stone, acknowledged son of Tyler Stone, the CEO of Alchemax. A scientist obsessed with the spider DNA his team had recollected many years ago.

"Dr. Michael Stone, Mike for the friends."

He cupped your face and kissed you deeply. Tongue sweeping on your trembling mouth, taking a taste of you. He let you go with an appreciative hum. His thumbs pressed on your now glistening lips to pry them open, taking a glance on your teeth. Your breath fanned his face as he explored your mouth with his thumbs initially.

"Healthy breath and teeth, no fangs, sadly" the doctor mumbled to himself while catching your tongue in between his thumb and index finger, pulling it enough to examinate it's length.

You whimpered at the pain. Saliva escaping your mouth, which he collected quickly in a little glass vial. His fingers typed in the data in a holo-pad that materialized next to him.

His face was deranged, a soft blush crept on his sharp cheeks. He had stumbled upon a gold mine.

The drowsiness had left your body entirely, fear and nausea replacing it. Modesty or shame weren't in Michael's vocabulary. Nipples perked at the cool air that invaded the lab.

He brought a little table with several pieces of something he had been tinkering with.

"Your little contraption seems something too advanced for people in your world. Sadly the damage is too great to salvage something."

He displayed the now burnt pieces of the watch, pieces you supposed were the core of its functioning.

"For how long have you been a mutant?"

"Years." Voice meek, he nodded as he kept typing away, without looking much your direction, too deep in the screen and the data displaying on it.

"Is there any others like me?"

You gulped. Your brief silence had been enough answer for him.

"I see." His grin turned into a devious chuckle, "I suppose there is one of me that is like you, isn't it?"

Upon hearing no answer of you, he pressed a button, where a sudden electricity jolt coursed through your body. Earning him a pained yelp from you.

"I don't appreciate your silence, cariño. Now, when was the last time your period came?"

Your body lingered in unpleasant waves of the shocking aftermath. Soft breaths turned into short and shallow pants, anger rising again.

"I don't remember" You admitted curtly and uncomfortable by the direction the interrogation was taking course.

"Have you had children before?"

The question made you blink stupidly at him while sneered at your reaction and cleared his throat. Keeping at bay the ominous thoughts already forming in his wicked brain.

"N-No." You mumbled and his lips pursed in a wolfish grin it sent an ill feeling through your chest. Your brain's danger alarms flared, begging you to run away as fast as you could. But how such thing would be achieved when you were nearly T qposing, naked, before a man that had everything but good intentions with you.

"There's always a first." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. The hidden promise in his words had you struggling against your prison but it stopped as he sent another electric jolt through your body.

You groaned both painfully and annoyed in between raged pants.

"Let me go! " He could only cackle at your waning order.

"But why would I do such thing, cariño?" His fingers tracing the slope of your jaw, "Not when I have found the perfect vessel for my lineage to develop."

Heart thumped wildly on your chest, threatening to escape up your throat.

"P-Please, let me go."

Something dern recoiled in his eyes, pleading was futile, even though he loved the way you pronounced such words.

"Can't do. In fact, I think production should start right away."

He beamed and your heart sunk. Hopefully Miguel caught your signal before the gizmo was broken for good. Attention snapping on a pair of eyes that danced around your body. He licked his lips while loosening his tie. His glasses were removed.

Your chest heaved with anxiety, but he kneeled before you, pushing your outer folds away to reach the forbidden prize he was set in devouring, your clit. It twitched and contracted when his thumb stroked it softly. Michael didn't waste time and sunk himself between your thighs.

"N-No!" You panted while trying to squeeze his head away from your thighs, but his grip was steely. His tongue assaulted your cunt with such intensity it had you clenching your jaw and panting within seconds.

Strong and moist muscle dribbled down your pussy, teasing around your quivering hole. His plump lips captured your little nub of nerves in between them, to then apply pressure within strong sucking motions. Your hips bucked, nearly melting at the powerful sensations the scientist dragged you to.

The slick of your labia increased making his motions smoother, vicious and wet. You could feel him resting his head on your lower belly as his mouth ate you like a starved man. A lap here, a dribbling up and down there and it had your mouth gaping open.

"Fuck" You tried to lurch forward but the upper restrictions on your limbs could only allow much movement. Your head heavy with lust blown and fearful thoughts, making it loll side to side, shaking off the pleasure that crawled all the way up, trying to fog your judgment completely.

The goal however was accomplished when his tongue delved in your hole, fucking it with such expertise it had your breath slurred and blown from your lungs.

His moist muscle curled, coiled and slurped at your cunt. Twirling and gathering your juices in his mouth. As dangerous as he was, Michael seemed a connoisseur of the female anatomy. And he ate like a starved man, like his life and investigation depended on it.

Your head was thrown back, just like your eyes in their sockets. Breaths turned erratic when his hands squeezed the round of your breast. Maneuvering your perky nipples a little too rough. He pinched, pulled and slapped them, matching the merciless pace of his assailant lips.

Teeth ground together, jaw clenched and trapping in the moans he rightfully had earned. Your hands managed to fist in the admist of the numbness they had been subdued to.

His tongue ventured deeper with moist and gulping movements, the tip of his nose buried in your pubic mound, keeping you in place from squirming too much, chasing that relief that would bring you a bit of peace to your tortured cunt. Heat pooled in his mouth, pressure tightening, edging you to an endless and dangerous spiral of tempting corruption.

A strangled whine came off your throat as he stopped and looked up at you. Darkened pupils wide, absorbing the red iris upon the sight of you.

Perfect, beatific even.

You were the perfect vessel for him. Lips flushed in need, exhaling the stimulation out of your system. A rapturous expression on your face, like a virgin that had been worshipped, and he was the chosen one to corrupt such grimace. His tie was removed completely and tossed somewhere.

With a tap of the holo-pad, your restrains were loosened, and you fell on the floor with a thud. A little groan as your body made contact with the cold tiles, blood rushing back to your limbs, leaving a prickling sensation all the way down your hands, awakening them.

As much as you hated to admit that you had enjoyed it, the rational side of you took control again, urging you to an attempt of escape while you crawled on your fours. Your suit had been discarded on one of the trash bins.

A strong hand grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you towards him, wobbly and feeble legs trembled at the forced attempt of standing up, only for your torso to be slammed against a nearby metal table. Air knocking out of your lungs with a 'oomph'

"You are going nowhere."

Despite the overall nerd-ish look, he was strong. Strong and big enough to pin your arms effortlessly before you, to then place a pair of metallic hoops on your wrist that instantly adhered at the table. Magnetic handcuffs, of course.

Breast flattened against the metal, unruly strands of hair obscured your sight, his agitated breath fanning over the crook of your neck. Rear was positioned in the perfect pose to expose both your holes. Pussy glistening with a mix of his saliva and your own slick.

"Marvelous. We are about to create the Opus Magna of my investigation. Aren't you excited, bonita?"

Your ears perked ominously at the unbuckling and fumbling of his pants.

"You have no idea how long I've awaited for a chance like this." His flushed tip rubbed between your folds, coating himself before aligning to your drenched hole. He tittered while taking a vice like grip on your hips and with a sudden motion, he buried inch by inch inside your gummy and sticky walls.

"Miguel!" You cried as he sheathed to the hilt, stretching you a bit past your limits. Fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled back with force. Granting him a pathetic yelp from you.

"Michael." He growled into your ear, "I am no bound by weaknesses unlike that defective copy of mines. But don't you worry..."

His tone venomous, "I'll make you learn my name one way or another." He slid a hand around your neck and squeezed a whimper out of you, "You're here to stay after all."

Callous fingers slid back to your hips, groping and grounding himself before he pushed in. A strangled moan came before air was cut short again by his firm and deep thrusting, allowing you to adjust enough to his girth. It was scary how perfect he fit inside, reinforcing his belief you were made specially for him and the explosion had been the catalyst for his plan to build a superior form of being, set in track.

Not only had he been granted a subject he had been chasing for nearly a decade, but now, he couldn't just study you, but also impregnate you. And what a better coincidence when you were reaching your most fertile days. Or so the data had dictated, and data didn't lie.

"With me." A deep cackle erupted from his mouth as an onslaught of merciless thrust were delivered between your supple and plump glutes, making them jiggle at his rutting.

A garbled and shaky moan escaped your lips, eyes wide at the core shaking pace he had settled. Toes curled and your hands fisted against the metallic handcuffs, trying to anchor yourself once more to something as the table creaked violently underneath both. The pressure on your clit increased as his balls slapped it, sending jolts through your body.

Your cunt received him with an obsence slurp, swallowing him whole over and over, hole moulded to his thick shaft, leaving you empty every time he slid out, only to be refilled impossibly deep with a pitiless plow.

You were a mewling and wailing mess underneath his formidable frame. Torso rock hard, just like the throbbing cock inside your snug and drenched pussy.

The room and you were the only witnesses of his borderline animalistic growls and snarls, set into his goal to fill you to the brim the times he saw it fit. After all, no experiment was successful without trial and error.

All you could hear was the rough slapping of your flesh melding together in a rough display of power where he indisputably had the upper hand.

Fire licked at every inch of your skin, tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, blurring your sight with overstimulation. He gave you no time to properly breath, too lost in wrecking your cunt to care, enraptured in the thrill your flesh offered him.

A firm slap on your jiggling ass granted him a choked wail, one of the few indicators you still remained conscious and holding it together. He frowned.

It wasn't enough, he wanted nothing more than your ruin. Having you subdued to him, both in mind and body. Stubborn nature couldn't just leave you fucked physically. The need to possess you in all it's wholeness took over him. You'd be his, and if he had to face his counterpart to keep you by his side, then so be it.

Michael stilled for a moment, giving you precious seconds to catch a much needed breath. He removed the lab coat and shirt, exposing his sweaty and well sculpted torso. Your legs trembled, your brain buzzed with all sort of sensations, the metal fogged with every deep breath you gave against it, if it wasn't for the restrains in your wrist, you'd certainly be on the floor, since your legs were giving up in supporting you.

A little drool streak escaped the corner of your lips, connecting to the space underneath you. Your hair was pulled back with a mild yank, forcing your spine to arch. The Fibonacci sequence would draw perfectly in the curvature of your flexible spine. One of the many perks of being a spiderwoman.

His frame swallowed you once more as he propped your right thigh on the table, granting him more access to delve in deeper into you.

" Ohmygod" you howled at how full and deep your insides were. He smirked at your words, "I can't... I can't-"

"You are more than capable of taking me, pequeña." A deep thrust and he had you sobbing, "Don't disappoint me now."

He rasped in blown inhales.

Your brain was melting just like your body. Instead of unceasing and swift slaps of flesh, steady and rhythmic plunges filled in the void space. Your mouth did nothing but nonsensical gabbling. Occasionally praising him with a coherent lewd curse or a whine.

Eyelids drooped a bit too low as your mouth went completely ajar, exhaling weakly. The weight of his frame pressing against you, slotting perfectly on your back. His hips dug into yours remorselessly, then you felt his arm hooking underneath your lower belly in a possessive embrace, letting the once punished breasts to bounce freely as he pounded relentlessly into you.

The second he skimmed on your tender skin, your body went taut and your brain shut off for a second, overheated by the mind shattering orgasm crashing over you. Only then your body was allowed to go limp on his arms, but that didn't stop him from giving a few more core shaking thrusts before emptying himself inside you. Flooding your womb with his hot load.

"Mi...Michael-" You croaked almost imperceptibly at the canvas he was making out of your insides.

Oh the joy of knowing he'd have a superior offspring made his wicked brain tingle. A malicious laugh escaped him upon admiring your current state. Fucked out and full of him, to the brim like he had promised. Michael Stone was a man of word.

When he had poured the last drop of cum inside, he pulled out to pick himself up. Underwear and pants secured back on his waist. His discarded lab coat covered his upper frame once more, body too heated to keep adding layers of clothing. He released the handcuffs off your wrist and caught you before your body slumped on the floor.

He rewarded your outlasting with a deep yet brief smooch, which you recoiled from. It didn't matter. You'd learn to tolerate his presence soon enough.

His arms carried you like a ragdoll. A doll that somehow still refused to be tamed, adding more dry bones to the raging obsession fire. You struggled from his grip but he didn't budge, a cruel laugh met you instead as he waltzed you to an empty room. Naked with jelly-like legs that didn't cooperate, angry and fearful and powerless.

He tossed you onto the bed and marched back towards the entrance. Proud of your lack of strength to retaliate and cunt full of his cum. His seed would do it's job soon enough. He had waited years, a bit more won't hurt him.

The thought of your belly rounding up with his child made his deep gaze to lock on you over his shoulder for a moment.

"Welcome to my world, querida." His cheeks spreaded in a wicked smirk before disappearing into the light, locking you out from freedom and hope.

Darkness drowned you, like his obsession. Dr. Michael Stone had finally achieved a breakout in his investigation. And he had no intentions of letting you go. Not until you produced the many heirs he had in mind.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #Miguelverse #miguel o'hara smut #Spiderman 2099 smut #atsv smut #t writes✨#Michael Stone AU #dark!miguel o'hara

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stacydacaddel · 8 days

Text

Blanket

Narrator P.O.V:

It's 2 am and Stone and Vinnie woke up due to cold Stone is shivering so is Vinnie but (Name) and Skipp are heavily asleep with Skipp taking all the blanket to himself and (Name) is just there sleeping peacefully facing the wall.....

"Vinnie the blanket" Stone said with a bit of sleepy tone since he's half asleep "Hmm I'm trying" Vinnie said pulling the blanket away from Skipp who's covered with the blanket like a cocoon and (Name) is just sleeping peacefully the other look unbothered but the other two in between them is shivering to death

The next day (Narrator P.O.V)

(Name) as usual wake up earlier than the three it's a busy day today probably a big event happenin' today so early in the morning people are already awake and there is our dearest (Name) stealin' stuff smoothly (Mr.Wolf reference from the Bad Guys) without anyone noticing them and they stole enough money probably bigger than 10 dollars it's 200 dollars at least some actual rich people that weren't cheap and with that they went to buy some food and that's a can of beans as usual they stop when they see their favourite fruit (f/f) was on Sale!? ain't they're lucky so they buy one for themselves and went to pay at the cashier then head back before the trio even woke up luckily (Name) has a knife so they peel down the skin of the fruit with the knife and eat it while watching the people pass by Stone woke up and yawn stretching and sitting beside (Name) "Mornin' Stone" (Name) calmly said "Morning to you too how do you sleep last night" Stone asked grabbing a cigarette and (Name) handed him a lighter "Slept good last night probably the best rest I've ever had" (Name) said and Stone just light up his cigarette "how can you sleep last night it's freezing cold you don't have a blanket" Stone said moody as always "i don't know just gets used to it why Skipp take the blanket all to himself again?" (Name) said raising their brow "yup you can say that" .....

#ramshackle x you #ramshackle x reader #stone x reader #stone x you #stone x y/n

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seventeenpins · 2 months

Text

a slight miscalculation - pt. i

pairing: Joel x F!Reader

word count: 8.3k

summary: Sarah is off to college, and Joel is about to be living in an empty nest. They road trip out together, and as she spends her first night in her new apartment, he's staying in a nearby hotel. Letting go of his inhibitions for the first time in a long time, he tumbles into a one night stand that becomes very complicated, very quickly.

content/warnings: smut, age gap, mycologist!reader, dick sucking, implied pussy eating, fingering, no outbreak au, reader likes to hike, reader also infodumps, joel miller has a big cock, he also has anxiety, reader has anxiety too, and a cat, reader is in early 20s--exact age not established, one (1) use of daddy, alcohol and weed consumption, joel is a diligent condom wearer, set in present day, discussion of girl scout cookies, joel is sweet and soft and hasn't been eviscerated by the death of his daughter

a/n: I'm intending this to be about five parts. This may change, but right now it's looking like five. I've been struggling to write for a while, unable to focus, but I think I'm back at it? as always, your feedback is hugely appreciated, and i'm kissing all likers and commenters and rebloggers deeply and with tongue 🩷

check out pt. ii

For the first time in nineteen years, Joel is completely adrift. Sarah's starting college in just two months.

It's the kind of realization that hits him like a bucket of ice water, a sudden shock and then an unpleasant trickling of anxiety wrapping about him in nasty tendrils. And then he feels guilty, because he's so, so happy for Sarah because he knows that she's thrilled, but fuck she's gonna be two time zones away and now what's Joel meant to do on Thursday movie nights when he's here without her?

It's terrifying, and it's new. And it's not that he's new to anxiety. He's usually anxious, and he has the Sertraline on his bedside stand to prove it. But if his general anxiety baseline usually hovered around a 6.4, where he was at now far surpassed a 10. It felt exponential, and totally exhausting.

When he voices his fears to Tommy, to Joel's horror, Tommy just doubles over in laughter.

"Jesus, Joel," he wheezes, wiping fake tears from his eyes in exaggerated movements, "You looked so serious I thought you were gonna say you'd killed someone."

Joel scowls. "The fuck you laughing for?"

"She's going to college, it's not like she's dying!"

"How'm I gonna be there for her? What if she needs me? What if-"

"Joel-," Tommy pats him gently on the shoulder, "She can always call you, and you can always call her. And we both know she's got a good head on 'er shoulders."

Joel snorts in concession. "Yeah, yeah. Better than yours and mine put together, and then some."

"Exactly." Tommy agrees, "And if there's ever anything that really goes wrong, you got me. We can drive out together and make sure she's okay."

Joel nods and feels the tiniest bit of tension leave him. One step at a time.

Just over nineteen years ago he found out he was about to be a dad. Suddenly, he had a purpose. Having a kid at twenty-two wasn't something he'd ever intended, but somehow he knew he loved his baby girl from the moment he knew she was a possibility. He spent a solid seven months running around, hustling, doing everything he could to get the very best for his kid. He'd take on doubles, working himself to the bone to make sure they had the best crib, and the best stroller, too. He was thrilled and terrified and so, so green.

Now, his heart feels so big he doesn't know how to handle it. His baby girl is an honest-to-god adult, moving out and going to college, and he has no idea what he's gonna do with his time now.

He has work, of course. But beyond that? He's really gotta to widen his circle, he realises, because who's he gonna hang out with? His brother?

He'd only just turned forty-one and had absolutely not come to terms with an empty nest--the few friends from high school he'd kept in touch with were so much further behind than him. The ones that had kids had them later in their twenties and thirties, and now they're raising middle schoolers while Joel's kid is a real fucking person, leaving home and everything. All the scrapping and saving he'd been doing since before Sarah was born–for his little girl to be able to follow any dream she chose–it was finally paying off. The precocious young woman she is, she graduated early and spent nearly a year working retail to save up some cash. She'd applied to colleges all across the country, and a few international ones, too. Joel had been crossing his fingers for months, hoping she'd choose something near Austin, but cheered with her all the same when she got her acceptance letter from Oregon State University. The previous summer, just before she'd started her applications, she and Joel and Tommy spent a miserable, wonderful week hiking round the Pacific Northwest. She fell in love with it, and the university offered a few of the majors she wanted to consider.

Joel didn't know what he'd do with his baby girl so far away, his life, his reason, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna tell her that. He will not clip her wings. His baby's gonna change the world and he's not gonna hold her back. He is, though, gonna require regular phone calls and check-ins and god they grow up so fast.

"Y'all should road trip out there," Tommy suggests one night over the dinner table.

Joel knew the conversation of how Sarah would get to the West Coast would come up, and it oughta be sooner rather than later. He was half afraid that she wanted to head out on her own, that she didn't need her dad anymore. Worried she would say she wanted to get a plane ticket, or take the Amtrak all the way to Corvallis. But he knows he needs to loosen his grip a little, so he braces himself when he turns to her.

"What'dya think, Sarah? You wanna be stuck in a car with your old man for a cross-country trip?"

Sarah rolls her eyes, but her face breaks into a grin. "Can we, Dad?"

This was too good to be true, he knew, but he wasn't gonna give up one last opportunity to spend some time with his girl till winter break.

"Course, baby," he tells her, and that flicker of anxiety quells just the tiniest bit.

The next few weeks fly by, and the knot of anxiety in Joel's chest feels like it's consuming him from the inside out. He's taken some time off, more than Sarah or Tommy can remember, but he's constantly trying to suggest ideas for activities to Sarah. For the most part, she's a good sport, understanding how much it means to her dad. She took pity on him, and let him drag her to places that ideally she would've gone to when she was little, but she humored him and he appreciated her dedication. He did his best to step back when she was heading out to spend time with friends--her time here was limited, after all, and she was always a social butterfly.

There are five weeks till classes start, four weeks, three, two, and in the blink of an eye, they're loading up the truck with all of Sarah's things, and Tommy is hugging Sarah goodbye, teary eyed. He gives Joel a hug, too. Joel would never admit it, but fuck he had really needed that hug.

They would take the scenic route. Make a memorable trip of it. Joel would make sure she settles in safe and sound, and then he'd head home.

6am Sunday.

You wake with a start. It's just over a week before term starts and your entire body aches. Fuck, you think to yourself, definitely overdid it with that last hike.

(The hiking part wasn't itself a problem, but one of the trails had washed out. You thought you'd found your way, but the "easy" three and a half mile hike took about five hours, leaving your calves bruised and your heels blistered.)

You roll over in your hotel room bed and, at the sound of a slight yelp followed by a gentle thud, realise with a sudden start that you just catapulted your cat off the corner.

"Shit, sorry goblin," you tell Spatula, who glares up at you with disdain as he licks at his paw. You reach down and, despite your inadvertent cat launch, he immediately rubs up against your fingertips and lets you scratch behind his ears.

"I'm sorry, baby," you soothe.

He meows, loudly. Howls, really. You take it as an apology accepted.

You sit up properly and look at your phone calendar. Nothing immediate. You don't need to get keys to your new apartment till tomorrow, nor do you meet your roommates till then–they're both moving in today, and moving is already horrible without having to navigate around the belongings of two other people. No, thanks. You can afford one more night at the hotel, and it'll make everything go that little bit more smoothly tomorrow. Besides, you have a bit of reading you'd like to get through, maybe stock up on non-perishables till you have a full-sized fridge, and get to know the city just a little.

You move gingerly, testing the ache in your muscles as you unfold yourself from the position you've been sat in and pull yourself from the bed. It hurts, but not something that won't be fixed with a little movement.

A plan forms. First, a walk, to try and loosen up your tight muscles. Then, errands. You have a whole list, with everything categorised by store, but then you enter IKEA and exit fifteen minutes later, only to find that five and a half hours have passed and it's evening now.

How was it that IKEA harnessed such a malicious power. How could anything harness that?

You need a fucking break. And a goddamn drink.

"Hey Dad," Sarah calls from the adjacent bedroom as Joel sweats, hauling another box towards her. The drive has been good, but it has been long. His legs ache. His back aches. There are parts of him that he didn't know existed that now ache.

"Yeah?" he calls back.

"Are you sure you're okay with me staying here tonight?"

Joel lets out a breath. He wants to be okay with it. And there's no way his nineteen year old would want to hang out with her dad when she could be spending the very first night in her brand new apartment. But he also wishes she wanted to spend one last night, hanging out in a hotel room with her dad. They could watch shitty movies together. Make the most of the final night before this cataclysmic shift.

But no.

That'd just be him being selfish. He can handle a night by himself. He's gotta handle a whole lotta them soon enough.

"O'course baby," he nods, hoping the smile he's plastered on his face looks totally genuine. "But we're still doin' breakfast in the morning, right?"

She nods, vigorous, and then waves her phone around. "I was looking up places! There's a diner called Tommy's," she laughs, "Wanna try that? 9:30?"

"Let's do it," he smiles, and this one is a little less forced.

"How much more do we have?" Sarah asks, nodding towards the box Joel's still holding.

"Last box," he grunts, "What else can I help with?"

He places the box down and lets out a slight, almost silent whimper. Sarah catches it, though.

"Maybe you should take it easy the rest of the day, Dad," she tells him, "We both know you have old man back."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Guess you're right," he shrugs, "That my cue to take off?"

Sarah blushes but turns to him sheepishly. "Yeah, I-"

"No need to explain," Joel assures, "I know you must wanna get unpacked and settle in, get to know your roommates an' all."

She jumps up and, almost startling him, wraps her arms around him in a bear hug.

"Love you, dad," she grins, and she squeezes just a little tighter than usual.

He squeezes back, and they both pretend there aren't tears in his eyes.

As you step through the doors of the hotel bar, you decide you like it. The lighting is comfortably low. It's not loud, but it's not quiet, either. Colorful bottles line the shelves, the light of the filament bulbs glinting off the glass in rainbow prisms.

You take a seat at the bar and give a nod of thanks as the bartender passes you a small menu. It's unsurprisingly extortionate, hotel bar and all, but it'll do.

"Old fashioned, please," you tell the bartender, who nods in response. A minute later, he hands you a glass, delivered with a twist of orange and a cherry on top.

With your first sip, you feel your shoulders start to relax and some of the tension loosen from your body. The warmth of the burn envelops you and your stress starts to unravel, leaving only the buzz feeling good.

You order a second, and as the glass is handed to you, a voice to your right catches your attention.

"This seat taken?" a man asks.

You shake your head and offer a quick smile, gesturing towards it, "All yours."

"Much obliged," he nods, and slips into the backless stool next to yours.

The bartender comes over and passes him the same menu, but without looking at it he asks, "Could I get an old fashioned?"

You smile and catch his eye, tipping your glass towards him. "An excellent choice," you praise, "Though if you don't have a sweet tooth, I'd recommend asking Jeff there if he can go easy on the simple syrup."

"Oh yeah?" He asks, and then he leans in conspiratorially. "T'tell you the truth, I do have a bit of a sweet tooth."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Suddenly, he breaks into a grin and it's dazzling.

"Yeah," he laughs, "I've got cookies stashed in secret locations all through my house."

You raise an eyebrow. "If I keep 'em in my pantry, my brother'll find 'em and eat 'em all," he explains, "But ever since my kid was a girl scout, I always get cravings for girl scout cookies, so I buy an armful o'boxes and try and preserve 'em throughout the year, till I can replenish."

"What's your favorite girl scout cookie?"

"Caramel deLites, hands down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely," he nods.

The bartender, Jeff, sets the man's drink down with a clink. You catch one another's eye and both erupt into a fit of laughter.

You're not even sure what's funny. Maybe it's just been a long day? Maybe the whiskey was getting to you?

Whatever it is, it feels good.

The man takes a sip of his drink and lets out an aaaahh and it's goofy and charming and then he extends his hand.

"Joel," he tells you, "Joel Miller". You shake his hand, introduce yourself, and then take a sip of your own drink.

"So, tell me about yourself," you smile, "You coming from out of town?"

"Yes ma'am," he nods, "Come up here from Austin."

"Texas?"

Joel nods.

"That's a long trip."

"Yeah," he laughs, "It really is."

"So, you're a nice Southern boy, huh?"

"Well," he swishes his glass and tries to bite back a smile, "I don't know that I'd go quite so far, but my mama did raise me to be a gentleman."

"That so?" you ask and his blush deepens.

"I... have been known to get up to some trouble, but I like to think I've mellowed in my old age." He gestures at the beautiful little smatterings of silver at his temples, and you cackle.

"Okay, that's hot," you tell him and he chokes, but you keep going, "Old age, though? What are you, like, forty?"

He exhales, chagrined. "Forty-one."

You roll your eyes. "That ain't old."

"It feels it sometimes," he smiles, "My kid is grown. My little brother's married with a kid of his own on the way. My back hurts, pretty much all the time."

You snort. You also notice, without trying to look, that he doesn't have a wedding band. Doesn't have a tan line for one, either. Interesting.

"But more than that," he continues, "I guess I feel- I don't know. A little... aimless?"

"Yeah," you nod, and you let the moment sit. "I get that."

He lets out a little breath, and then turns back to you, focused.

"What about you? Where're you from?"

"Oof," you exhale, "All over. Spent a bit of time on the East coast. The Midwest. Lived a few months in the South, even," you tease as you bump your shoulder into his and he laughs. It's a surprisingly familiar gesture, but miraculously comfortable.

"Ever make it to Texas?"

"Naw," you shake your head, "My time in the South was all in Mississippi. After that I moved out to California, and I've been slowly working my way up the West Coast."

"And what have you been enjoying about the West Coast?" Joel asks.

"The mushrooms," you grin, and Joel frowns.

"Like, the kind you get in a little baggy from the dealer down the street, or-?"

"No," you laugh, "Or, well- Okay, sometimes. Gotta say it is great out here for that, too. But I mean fungus as a whole--mushrooms, mold, yeast, lichen. But I'm most interested in mushrooms. They're just really fuckin' cool, and there's so much we don't understand about them. And, they're delicious."

"Huh," Joel ponders, "T'tell you the truth, I've never thought much about mushrooms, besides enjoying 'em as a pizza topping."

"Most people don't," you agree, "But fuck, like-- Okay, so we know there are over five million types of fungi on Earth, but we've identified less than two percent of them. Some fungus aids decomposition. Some fungus is bioluminescent. Some are known worldwide for their delicious flavours, and others are known by the slow, horrible ways they kill you."

Joel raises his eyebrows, and suddenly you feel a little self conscious.

"Sorry, I do this," you laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck, "I get very excited about fungus and manage to alienate everyone around me."

You half expect him to stand up and walk away.

Instead, though, he leans in closer. "Don't apologise," he tells you, "I'm learning something new. Tell me more?"

"No, I should stop. Otherwise I'll never stop talking," you wince.

"How about just one more fungus fact?"

You sit for a minute, pondering. "This is- well, I guess this is one of the reasons I find fungus so fascinating. So, fungus can't photosynthesise the way that plants do--they can't produce their own food from sunshine, and water, and carbon dioxide. Instead, their mycelium-- they're these thread-like networks--they branch out beneath the earth, seeking out food, growing in the direction where it can find the nutrients it needs and breaking down organic material all around them, sometimes living organisms, as a parasite, and sometimes dead organisms as a decomposer, or both. And it's just- It's this hidden world, that exists right beneath the surface even in some of the extreme places on earth, temperature-wise. And most days, we don't even think about it."

You punctuate your thought with a large swallow of your drink, which is half-watered down now that the ice is melted, and doesn't hit quite as hard as you'd hoped, but then you look up at Joel and he's smiling at you, pensive, and--

"That's- That's actually really interesting."

Before you can respond, though, Joel glances at his watch and balks. It is getting late. "Shit," he shakes his head, "I think I oughta call it a night," he says, pulling back. "Early morning tomorrow, and if I stay at the bar I'll just keep drinkin'."

Fuck. That's a dismissal. Of course you went on too much about mushrooms. You'd fucked this up. You'd thought this was going well, but now it felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. "Oh," you nod, matching his posture, and try to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment. "Of course. Have a good night, Joel."

Joel stands up and then looks you up and down, considering. It's not brazen, but it isn't shy, either. And then understanding flashes across his face.

"Wait- Sorry, that's not how I meant it." He reaches out towards you and you melt into his touch. "I'm messin' this up." He chuckles, but it sounds pained. "Now look, I don't wanna make any presumptions. And I'm really hopin' I'm not coming off as some--dirty old man. Jesus, I haven't done this in a while. But I'm in room 308."

Your eyebrows shoot up. What you'd taken for disinterest was just--nerves?

"I reckon I'll be awake for a while yet. You're welcome to... drop by."

The disappointment melts, making way for a fluttering in your stomach.

"Twenty minutes," you assure him, "308?"

He nods and he brakes into a sheepish grin, shedding what you now realise had been something of an anxious wince. "308."

You watch him leave. When he's out of sight, you toss back the rest of your watery drink and go to pay your tab, but Jeff tells you it was already settled. You thank him and tuck your shaking hands in your pockets. You feel an electricity running through you as you take the elevator up.

When you get back to your room, you hop into the shower, just to freshen up--you keep your hair dry but scrub your body. Once you're clean, you brush your teeth.

Stepping back out of the en suite, you survey the hotel room. Spatula is lounging on the corner of the bed, entirely uninterested in your movements. You top up his dry food bowl and place a kiss between his ears before slipping out.

When you knock at Joel's door, you hear a slight rustle and clatter and then the door swings open, Joel's staring a little wide-eyed, like he didn't actually expect you to show. He's wearing grey sweats and a Johnny Cash t-shirt that looks like it's been around nearly as long as you have. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, an anxious tell that's desperately endearing.

"C'mon in," he smiles, and you step in, closing the door behind you.

You reach out to cup his face, delighting in the feeling of coarse stubble beneath your fingertips. Your first kiss is chaste. You both lean forward and press your lips to one another gently, exploring.

Then, you let out a little moan and Joel shudders. Heat surges between you, and his hands are cradling your head and brushing your cheek and he's pinning you against the closed door. You're kissing again, nothing chaste remaining, learning the taste of him, his rhythm, the crashing waves of give and take between you.

You wrap one leg around him and smirk when he lets out a throaty groan as you grind against his hard cock. You're pretty sure he's not wearing underwear, the thick bulge seemingly unconstrained in his grey sweats, the whole length pressing against your thigh.

Your head falls back and you let out soft, breathy noises as his lips trace along your collarbone, up your throat, and against that tender little spot behind your ear. When he puts your earlobe between his lips and presses his teeth gently against the skin, your knees go weak and he chuckles, strong arms wrapping around you, holding you up.

"Bed?" he asks, and you breathe yes and then, with a yelp and a throaty chuckle, you're lifted up and spun around and both tumbling into the duvet.

You're grasping at each other, desperate to keep your hands on one another. The only times you part is when you undress, and even then, you're helping each other--pulling the hem of his shirt over his lifted arms, pressing into him as he reaches around and moves to unhook your bra, but then he realises you're not wearing one and lets out a groan, his thumbs brushing alongside the tender skin along your ribs, moving gently as if to cup your breasts, but then he pulls back.

Normally you might wait, do this part slowly, draw out the tease just a little bit longer.

Tonight, though, you're ravenous.

As you fiddle with the buttons of your pants, you tug at the drawstring keeping Joel's sweats on his hips. The bow comes loose in one smooth motion, and he lifts his hips and you pull the sweats down.

Your mouth immediately waters seeing him bare, laid out for you. You watch a bead of precum drip down the head and pool on his belly. The coarse hair of his happy trail glistens with it. He's thick, uncut, and looks painfully hard, his cock head ruddy. "Fuck, you're beautiful," you tell him, and his cheeks redden but he grins. It's boyish, the way he grins, and devastatingly charming.

And, what you're saying is true. His body is gorgeous, something you wish you could sketch. Soft flesh over hard muscle, visible tan lines where his chest and shoulders are noticeably lighter than his arms. The muscles and veins along his throat are driving you absolutely fucking insane as he swallows and looks up at you.

He's got freckles on his shoulders, too, and without thinking, you lower yourself down to kiss at his shoulder. He shakes, just a little, and lets out the most beautiful gasp. It's addictive, pulling these noises from him. You follow the curve of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine--tracing feather-light kisses along his collarbone, up the tendons of his neck, behind his ear. You can feel the blood pulse in his veins as your lips brush along him. Joel goes from panting lightly to full on groaning, rutting his hips up towards you and, frustrated, meeting only air.

"Can I taste you?", you ask, and Joel lets out a half-strangled sound and nods, vigorous.

You scoot back, lower yourself, poke out your tongue and, without any preamble, lick at the slit of his head, tasting the salty, tangy precum.

Joel tips his head back and groans and you decide to be kind. You grasp onto his hips and take him in your mouth, slowly sinking down, inch by inch by inch and now you can feel him at the back of your throat, your saliva dripping down the shaft and collecting in the hair between his thighs.

You bob your head up and down, taking him deeper with each thrust, but your throat is full and there are still inches to go. You relax, doing everything you can to take him deeper, and he starts to thrust up gently.

You let him fuck into your mouth but release one of his hips, allowing him to move as freely as he needs and freeing up your hand, which you shove into your underwear, rubbing furiously at your clit.

It doesn't take much to lose yourself in it, to focus only on the sensation. You're so wet, slick coating your fingers, making the glide that much smoother as you touch yourself. Joel tastes so good, too, the intrusion of his cock the most delicious thing, feeling the way he shudders when you moan, the way he moans when you shudder.

"Fuck-" Joel gasps, and then there's a hand guiding you gently off of him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You okay?"

He swallows, hard, and nods. "More than okay. Felt too fuckin' good."

"Oh yeah?" and you lean down, as if to take him back in your mouth, but he chuckles and pulls you back again.

"It's been... a while. For me. And-" He drags his palm down his face, wearing an almost pained expression. "Christ, you just look too fuckin' good down there, mouth stretched 'round me while you touch yourself. An' it feels too fuckin' good, too. I ain't ready for this to be over yet but if you keep lettin' me fuck your throat like that it's gonna be over real quick. And I wanna feel that pretty pussy myself."

You sit back up and he pulls you towards him so you're straddling him.

"You gonna fuck me, Joel?"

"Yes," he breathes, "Yes, baby, please-"

You do an awkward wobble and then stand up, shedding your pants and letting your panties drop, stepping out of them, one foot and then the other, and the way he's watching you is addictive. He watches you with beautiful eyes, drinking all of you in, and suddenly the moment has changed into one of those quiet, intimate moments where you both exhale a laugh.

You straddle him again, and lean down to kiss him, and the electric current surges up. He grabs you by the jaw, meeting your desperation. His lips on yours are exactly the balm you need and you can taste the whiskey on his breath.

"Feels fucking good," you tell Joel as you slide up and down his length. He's not penetrating you, not yet, but the lips of your pussy are spread and you're gliding along him, feeling his head at your clit and thrusting back till you're nearly seated on his balls.

He watches you, nearly unblinking, drinking it all in. Then, he lets out a groan, and half-sits up, suddenly focused.

"Shit," he closes his eyes in frustration, "I don't have any condoms. Shit shit shit-"

You push him back down and kiss him again. Then, you hop off the bed and sift around in your jean pockets.

"Ah-ha!," you exclaim, once you've found your treasure. Joel raises and eyebrow and you wink. "Saw they were selling them in the lobby. Figured it might be a good idea."

"Shit," Joel laughs, and presses his lips just to the side of your mouth. "Clever girl," he tells you, and a shiver goes up your spine.

He leans to help, but you shoo him away and he watches, entranced, as you neatly open the condom wrapper and, with a small amount of difficulty, roll it down his cock.

"Feeling okay?" You ask him, "Shit, I shoulda gotten the Magnums. Is your dick okay? It's not being choked to death by an inappropriately sized rubber, is it?"

Joel snorts. "We'll manage," he says, and then he grips you by the hips, lines himself up. He draws his knuckles along your cunt and groans, "Fuck, so goddamn wet for me-" and, the moment you look at him and nod, he holds the head of his cock against your drooling lips and presses into you.

It's a big stretch as he lowers you down onto him, the intrusion almost painful, but before you can even take a breath, it melts into absolute pleasure. You've fucked people with longer cocks before, and you've fucked people with girthier cocks before, but never have you fucked someone with a cock that's both this long and thick and it feels like you're being split in two and it's perfect and you realise, with a sudden flip of your stomach, he isn't even fully seated inside you yet.

Then, you manage to focus on the words Joel is saying-that had really just been background noise for the past ten seconds or so-and suddenly you're tuning back in for "Tha's it," his voice low and hoarse, surprisingly gentle, "Good girl, takin' this cock so well, look at you."

His brow is furrowed and he's looking at you with such dark eyes, nearly black, the pupils are so blown. "Just a little more, that's it, just one more inch, you can do it, christ, look at you, takin' all of me."

His tone is reverent and it sets a fire through you. You can feel more slickness build and drip out of you, and from the way he moans, you're certain he can feel it too despite the condom.

"So fuckin' wet," he groans, "Soakin' my cock- grippin' me so nice-Fuck--"

He leans towards you and cradles your head in his hand, kissing you hard.

When you both pull back, you know your lips must be kiss swollen and red. His are--they're soft and bright, and you want to eat him whole.

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

He's thrusting into you lazily, holding you in place, but you need more, you need all of him.

You push forward and move his hand from your waist to your clit. As you manoeuvre him, his nostrils flare, and you'd wonder if he was angry, if not for the way you felt his cock stiffen even further inside of you. You start to move your hips, to rub up against the thumb on your clit, and to feel every fucking inch of him.

Urged on by the way he groans, you start to ride him, properly. Holding each other close, you fuck down onto him and he leans back, awed.

"Enjoying the show?" you ask.

"Damn- right- I- am-," Joel breathes, every word punctuated with a shuddering breath after you drive back down onto his cock, "Jesus- you- look- so- good- like- that."

You like being watched. Being admired. It sent an extra thrill through you, and your hips stutter, just a little, and now you're following a new, faster rhythm.

"Fuck, that's it, baby-" he praises, "Shit, yes- bounce on it."

You lean forward and kiss his throat, and then he makes this noise, half-strangled and beautiful.

"Shit, honey-- honey, honey, hold on-," he holds you still and you're glad he has, because your brain hadn't quite processed his words.

He's looking at you so earnestly.

"Baby, if you keep ridin' me like this I am gonna blow my load in the next twenty seconds and I don't wanna end this quite so soon."

You hum, a moment of consideration. You stare into his eyes, and part of it is calculated seduction, but another part is getting genuinely lost in the way he looks at you. The crinkles round his eyes. The way he seems able to focus on you, in a way that feels as frightening as it is exhilarating.

"How about this," You smile, "You get yours, and then you can eat me out till I get mine. And if you're ready to go again by the time I've come, we can see where we're at then. Hmm?"

You see a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, and take a moment to appreciate how much he's clearly trying to control himself.

After a moments of avoiding your eye, he looks at you again and he looks utterly wrecked. "You- talkin' like that?" He shakes his head and tries to even his breath. "Fuck, I nearly came right there."

"It's okay," you soothe, and you cup his jaw and resume you movements, riding him like you had before. "You can come if you need to-" your fingertips stroke the stubble of his chin, "You're close, huh? It's okay, daddy, you can let go."

Joel lets out a strangled noise and busts immediately.

You savor the way it feels, the pulse of his cock as he spills into you. No, into the condom, you correct yourself, but you can always pretend-

After his balls relax and you can feel him start to get soft, you hold the condom down as you pull yourself off, and you're nearly unseated when there's a sudden squelch noise that sends you both into tumbles of laughter.

It takes a while to calm down, and you find yourselves heaving, tangled in the sheets, and wrapped up in each other. The condom is hanging limply on Joel's now-soft cock and it's oddly cold and gooey as you accidentally roll against it, and that sends you both off again.

"Fuck," Joel snorts, and tugs at the condom, starting to roll it off his length, "I'd almost forgotten the weird texture of a used condom. Fuckin'... Slug-like."

"That-" you declare, "Is visceral. And I hate it. Thanks."

He snorts, and you suddenly have a question.

"Condoms not making too many appearances in your life?"

"Not many, no."

"What, you usually fuck raw?"

"Just haven't been sleepin' with anyone," he shrugs, nonplussed.

"Well, I gotta say, the good people of Austin have been missing out."

Joel shrugs again, and it comes off as casual, but you notice the way his ears tint pink. "Just- not been something I did. But now, I guess, I can. And with way less guilt."

"Why guilt? Are-" you venture, dread pooling in your stomach, "Are you married?"

His eyes flit up to you sharply, and then soften immediately. He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "No. Nothin' like that. I was married, but I've been divorced nearly twenty years now."

The tightness immediately uncoils and you realise how tense you were only a moment ago. I am not a cog in the machine of a collapsing marriage. Thank fuck.

But now your curiosity is piqued. "So... why the guilt?"

"Sorry, I- I really didn't mean to get into it. I'd rather not get into it. It's- complicated."

"Of course," you shrug, and it isn't a problem because this is just a hot fantasy hookup that you'll remember fondly, and it'll be wonderful masturbation fuel for probably the rest of your life, but you don't wanna make the poor guy go into his life's trauma, especially when he's looking at you so fucking earnestly and you are actually really fucking fascinated but no, you would not let this become a problem.

"Thanks," he says, and then steps out of the room. You hear the clang of the bin as he steps on the pedal, then drops the condom, takes a piss and washes his hands.

"You hungry?" He asks, and you realize very suddenly, you're absolutely famished.

"Yes," you jump up and he laughs when you run, bare-assed and shameless, over to the corner of the room filled with brochures and traveller info and finally, you raise it in triumph when you find it, the list of nearby takeaways.

"Okay," you look at the list, "There's one place at the top of the list here that's apparently highly rated, but I actually have plans there soon and I wanna wait till then to eat there. Hope that's okay."

Joel comes over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "No problem."

"But... alright," you continue. "There's pizza. Or... more pizza. Or, look--there's a Southern-style place, that'll make you feel right at home!" Joel pokes you in the side and you swat at him as he grunts a laugh.

Suddenly, a warning sound starts playing on loop in your brain. It was dreadfully domestic, wasn't it? This was an absolute stranger you'd just met in a hotel bar? But... it also felt... nice? And it felt nice in ways that you'd never found yourself enjoying before. Even with long-term partners. Maybe because this was so low-stakes, you reasoned, such an inevitably temporary situation, so you weren't putting the same kind of pressure on yourself.

As soon as you think that, the eternal curse of overthinking shows itself and you suddenly feel desperately self conscious. Before you can pull away and make some excuse, though, Joel's arm wraps around you and his thumb starts rubbing little circles into a tender bit of skin between your hip and your tummy. The anxiety spiral you'd been teetering on the edge of suddenly vanishes.

"How about-," he nods at the list, "Pizza?"

After Joel calls in your order, the pizza delivery service tells you to expect your food in about thirty minutes. You remember you have a little box of edibles. You ask Joel if he minds if you take one, and he doesn't. You offer him one, and he automatically declines, but then as he starts to explain, he pauses and pivots, goes "Wait, actually. Yeah. Why not?"

A freckled kid who looks no more than sixteen pulls up with a short stack of pizza boxes and a two liter bottle of root beer. He raps awkwardly on the door after exactly thirty five minutes, and it swings open.

The room looks utterly wrecked, clothing strewn along every surface. Joel answers the door wearing a robe, his entire face smelling of sex, and his moustache still shining with the slick of your release.

"Thanks, kid," Joel nods, and hands him a small wad of cash. The kid eyes him and shrugs. "Keep the change," he tells him, and the door swings back shut.

The edibles have hit beautifully. You're both blissed out, comfortably hazy, lost in the sensation of bare limbs on bedsheets and the flavors of the pizza and it's assorted sauces. You lay together on the bed, paper plates strewn between you. In the background, an X-Files rerun plays.

"Ooh!" You sit up as you catch the premise of the episode, "I love this one! See the goo? There's a giant fungal... entity.. that's working on digesting them, and giving them hallucinations as they die."

"You and mushrooms, huh?" Joel laughs, but then looks back at the episode and contemplates the viscous yellow goo. "Jesus christ," he frowns, and sniffs, now contemplating the mushrooms on his pizza slice.

You spot his glare and snort. "I think you're safe."

He takes another bite and shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I'm getting tired," he admits.

"Me too," you agree.

"No pressure, but in case it wasn't clear, you're welcome to stay the night here."

"That's sweet," you tell him, and think it over. "If I took you up on that, would you be offended if I slip out early?"

Joel raises a brow.

"I have a cat," you explain, "And I'm working on moving into a new place, and meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I need to check out after breakfast because I won't be able to get my keys for the new place until the breakfast but I can't take my cat to a diner-"

You take a breath.

"Basically, I've got a bunch of things I need to do in the morning, but if you don't mind me slipping out around, maybe, 5-ish, then I'd love to stay."

He stares at you.

You regret saying as much as you said. You don't need to over-explain yourself to this actual stranger. He doesn't care. There's no reason for him to care. He's probably in it just for the fuck, and it was fun and if you stay then there's a chance the two of you will wake up at some point in the night, still horny and lustful and you might fuck again and you'd be lying if you said that wasn't part of the draw. You realise, though, you'd also be lying if you said you didn't care what he thought of you. All of a sudden, you are overwhelmed with caring what this man thinks of you.

How fucking inconvenient.

"I wouldn't be offended at all," Joel chews, swallows, wipes the corner of his mouth with a napkin and speaks again. "What's your cat's name?"

You don't know what you'd expected he'd say, but it wasn't that. You buffer for a moment. "It's- Spatula."

"Spatula?"

"Yep." You feel foolish.

"Huh. Spatula."

A silent moment between you.

"Got any pictures?"

You weren't expecting that, either. "I... do? Do you want to see them?" He nods. You pull out your phone to scroll through.

Joel, suddenly scrambled around for his phone, too. It was late and he hadn't checked it for hours. Had it been on silent? What if Sarah had called and he'd missed it?

His panic eased when he saw he had only two notifications. Both from Sarah, but neither were bad. He hadn't been neglecting any crises. The first text was a selfie of Sarah and an unfamiliar person, which she'd texted to him with the caption New roomie!! The second contained an address to the place they'd have breakfast tomorrow along with Just wanted you to know I've invited a friend to join us tomorrow morning! Is that okay? Realized I should maybe have checked with you? 😬

There was an ache in his chest. He wanted to keep her to himself, get to spend one last day, just the two of them. It was the start of a whole new chapter, but more than anything, he wished he could hold onto the moment for just a second longer.

But Sarah was stressed, he knew this, so he wasn't gonna make it worse and put this burden on her. He could handle it. He had to handle it. He typed back- No problem, baby. Can't wait to meet your friend.

After a moment, he followed up with another text. Gonna turn in now. Good nite!

The less he texted right now, the better. He did not want Sarah to know anything about the night he was having.

His screen lit up a moment later. Night Dad! He takes a deep breath and wills some of the tension away.

He slips his phone aside and you scoot into bed next to him.

"This," you announce, "Is Spatula."

Joel scrolls thru, his brows raising higher with each image.

With a single nod, he opens his mouth and instead of speaking, he collapses into laughter. It comes out a wheeze- "I-- I know this won't make any sense, but your cat looks just like my goddamn brother."

You're laughing now too, both of you almost hysterical, even though you have no frame of reference. You cherish the absurdity.

Then, Joel pulls up a picture on his phone and shows you, and now you're doubling over again because his brother looks exactly like Spatula.

You don't remember falling asleep. You curse your body's internal clock because you wake up right at 5am, and even though you know you should get up and leave, you wish you could have just a little bit longer.

It's such a comfortable way to wake up. One arm is folded under your pillow, and the other is slung over Joel's hip. He's asleep, snoring softly, and strands of his hair are mussed along his forehead. Your hand is holding his tummy, but you realise there's something pressing against the heel of your hand, and then realise, with a delicious jolt, that he's hard and straining against his boxers.

It's so fucking hard to get out of that bed, but with enough barely-effective reminders--you're gonna fuck up your whole day if you're late, gotta make a good impression, Spatula's gonna be so disappointed if you're late with his breakfast--you manage to bully yourself out of the warm and wonderful bed containing blankets and absolutely fantastic dick, and you tiptoe through the room, dress quickly, and, after making a note and leaving it on his bedside stand, you slip out.

Joel wakes up with a jolt, and then rolls over to see that the alarm clock (which he dared not contemplate the number of times he must have snoozed) was telling him it was 9:13.

He was late. Really fucking late. And then the panic made his brain spin faster and that's when he noticed the note on his bedside table.

I had a really good time If you're in town for a little longer, don't be a stranger?

It's followed with your name and phone number, and a rather detailed mushroom sketch across the page. He wasn't sure what kind of mushroom it was, but it was beautiful, and clearly hand-drawn, and for whatever reason you'd decided to tear it out of, presumably, your sketchbook? And you gave it to him, and he's gonna read that note and replay last night for the rest of his fucking life. It felt incredibly precious. He placed it in a book so it wouldn't get creased or folded. Made sure it was all contained and neat, totally flat in between the pages.

Then, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.

After scrubbing the smell of sex off of his entire body, he dresses quickly and checks his watch again. 9:28.

He texts Sarah and lets her know he's a few minutes behind. She responds with an eye roll emoji.

Joel settles in his truck and pulls up directions. It's only a few minutes away. He won't be too late.

When Joel steps into the diner, he's charmed by it. It's old school, with a checkerboard floor and bright red vinyl seats. He scans the room till he spots Sarah in a booth in the corner. She's laughing over a hot chocolate, and her friend must be in the seat opposite her.

He catches Sarah's eye and she grins at him, waving him over.

You've been at the diner about fifteen minutes, and you and Sarah are already getting along beautifully.

You'd met on a university message board and had become fast friends, but meeting someone in person was always a little terrifying. On top of that, you'd already committed to spending at least one (academic) year with this person, so you were damn sure gonna make it work.

Sarah waves over her dad. You can't see him yet, the back of the booth too high.

But then he's standing right there.

You already have a hand outstretched, but when he sees you and you see him, your stomach flips and dread runs through you. All the color drains from his face. He looks like a deer in headlights, and you'd be surprised if you didn't look the same.

Sarah looks between you, not quite concerned, but definitely confused. Sarah smiles and tries to diffuse the situation.

"Hi dad!" She grins, "This is my new roommate! Well, the other new roommate--the one in the picture, their name is Ellie, they weren't able to make it this morning. BUT. Breakfast seemed like a great time to hand off keys!"

Joel is still frozen and white-faced. Your brain whirs, and you know you've just fucking catapulted yourself into a disastrous mess, but you do your very best to save face.

Reaching your hand out further so he can't possibly miss it, he gives into some familiar social instinct, takes it and you shake. You think of his hands, how they dragged along your body last night, touched you, felt you, wrecked you.

You introduce yourself. He nods, avoiding eye contact.

"Joel." He grunts. "Miller."

Sarah frowns at him, but turns back to the menu.

This- was unexpected. Problematic. Arguably, really fucked up. All of those things and more. But it'll be fine.

All throughout breakfast, you repeat that to yourself, letting the words bounce around your head. It will be fine, you repeat your mantra, it will be fine, and you try not to feel too hurt at the way Joel's avoiding eye contact as if simply looking at you will cause him unimaginable disgust.

Everything will be fine.

Note: The fic's premise is loosely based on the book Mistakes Were Made which is a fucking excellent sapphic romance novel that utilises this trope. Would strongly recommend the book if you're into smutty queer stories.

#joel miller smut #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller x f!reader #ok i gotta be honest i was stoned out of my mind for writing most of this #but mostly sober for editing #thank u for bearing with meeeeeee

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