#comin soon... maybe

[elderwisp]

↼ ✧ ⇀

╰⪼ two weeks

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Rewatching 97 because I just need to get on with it but GAWDDD at this point I'm literally not watching all the rogueneto scenes IT'S SO UNCOOL 💀💀💀💀 ERIK WOULD NOT DO THAT WTF DISNEY

its just really funny in regards to 97 specifically because they never even interact in 92 (or if they do its incredibly sparring) so it's just the most out of nowhere thing possible. like oh we're doing this now ok

[seoulmatez]

now that i have caught up on windbreaker i have no shame starting my annual free watch

[b4kuch1n]

what if I draw her actually in time for the mid autumn festival

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

nearly lost a whole ass draft cause i ended up getting overzealous on the editing and writing out a drabble on tumblr instead of notes and almost lost everything just now... the way i would CRY... tysm draft save feature omfg,,,

[cherryluvss]

I'm quite close to hitting a big milestone on this account.

Maybe I'll post something interesting when that happens.

[fionarara]

still randomly remembering that one time i attended the creator of Minecraft's annual house party even though i've never even played that video game lmao and after getting to watch Skrillex dj in such an intimate setting (surreal), we all hung out and he had like a harem of cute girls surrounding him on the couch, haha it seemed super platonic though and he was really respectful,,, literally he was so kind to me and everyone,, by far the nicest celeb i've ever met besides elijah wood.

[bunny-jpeg]

"ex" husband

simon "ghost" riley

cw: pwp/smut, ex husband!simon, possessive!simon, dark themes, mirror sex & other smut, major red flags, proceed with caution, bad husband!simon, manipulation

bunny says: once you fuck crazy, you never not fuck crazy

simon didn't believe in divorce. he made a vow to be with you till death, he wasn't going to skimp out on the years you could spend together. he wouldn't accept that you wanted to be without him.

he had you on the floor of your shared bedroom, you were holding onto him behind yourself while his hands were on your hips. he was rubbing his cock up against your slick entrance.

"have you had any other guys over? fuckin' them in my bed, in my home that i paid for?" he held it over your head as he watched your face contort with pleasure. he continued to rub his tip up against your slit.

"no, simon." you panted. your heart raced with every moment that passed. your body was hot all over. "i haven't had anyone else, not since you." your pussy clenched around nothing in anticipation for what was to come. you were almost certain that your cunt was formed to the size of his cock.

"good, good. i don't want some fuckin' prick comin' to my home and fuckin' my girl." his voice was low as he got a hand between your legs and touched your clit with his rough fingers.

you arched your back and moaned out loud. you could be as loud as you needed to be. he kept his wife in a home far enough from everything that you could whimper and whine to your heart's content. your eyes fluttered closed as you felt the thrill of pleasure through your body.

"nothin' can have ya. no stupid asshole who thinks he can have what is mine. you made a promise, love. to be loyal to your husband." he growled as he gripped your jaw with his other hand and made you look into the mirror, "i don't think someone who wants to leave her husband would be lettin' him fuck her in their bedroom."

"simon, please." you whimper.

"nah, nah, love.' he said, accent heavier due to the immense lust in his body, "i was a good man to you. lovin', carin', did everythin' for ya. and you turn around like an ungrateful brat and try to leave me." his voice was getting deadly. his hand still held your jaw and his other played with your clit. you were stuck to him, "fuckin' slag. surprised you haven't fucked your way through the neighborhood to find a new man. because you'd never find one like me. or you're scared. scared i'd find him, and make him go missin'."

you swallowed, fear struck through you, "simon. i didn't sleep with anyone."

he buried his nose into your hair and groaned as his cock still prodded your pussy lips, "i know, i know. you don't actually want to leave me. your girlfriends got these thoughts into your head that i don't think are true. better without me? love, i made you."

you panted heavily, it was hard to look into the mirror with his hot words into your mouth. maybe he was right, maybe you didn't want to leave him. he had given you everything throughout your entire marriage. why would you sacrifice it?

he pulled his hand away from your pussy and guided his cock into your pussy. the stretch had you gripping onto him. the angle was awkward but he had you contorted to fit his pleasure.

"my good wife." he purred, "i'll always love you. even when you're not usin' that head of yours right. but don't worry." he kissed your cheek, "i'll always take care of my girl."

you held onto him as he thrusted into your from behind. you felt the air leave your lungs whenever he pushed into you. it was an intense feeling on your behalf. you had never imagined that fucking your soon-to-be ex-husband would feel so good.

"like that, love?"

you nodded meekly, "it feels good."

"that's a good girl." he groaned, "made perfectly for me. you are such a good girl for me, love. why would you want to go anywhere? stay with me, keep your vow."

your thighs quivered from the intense feeling of pleasure. your breathing was heavy and your head felt full. your heart leapt every time his cock nudged against a sensitive spot.

"please, simon. i can't be your wife."

"you can. and you will." he took you by the face and tilted your head back so he could kiss you passionately.

you melted into the kiss, as did the last of your resolve. your core throbbed with a need for him. he melted away all your problems. the more he fucked you, the more you wanted to stay with him.

he was your husband after all.

the sex between you two was hot and messy. it made you core soaked as he continued to bully his cock into your sweet cunt with every hard thrust.

"say you love me."

"i love you." you replied, your eyes hooded.

"good girl." he groaned, "i want to hear that every day until you can no longer speak." he licked across your bottom lip, "my good girl."

you whined as your body shook with each thrust of his hips. your pussy clenched around his cock. you felt your mouth to be dry and you voice strained.

simon loved taking you apart, only to put you back together. he continued to fuck you with abandon. he gazed at you with his nose in your hair as he thrusted up into you.

your noises were so cute, you really just were so small compared to him. you needed him! what were you thinking leaving him? you needed your big strong military husband to make sure that you were safe. don't be silly now!

he kissed your neck as he felt the surge of pleasure in his gut. his heart hammered with each every thrust. you were made for him. as he kissed the tip of your ear, he felt the blush that spread across your skin.

"please, simon."

"i got ya, love." he said, "i got ya." with a few more thrusts that hit in just the right place. you saw stars as you climaxed around his cock. his was soon to follow as his cum hit the back of your womb.

where it belonged.

as you rested your face on the carpet of the bedroom in an effort to cool down, simon grabbed your hips and started to thrust into you once more. his cock still painfully hard.

"you've done enough damage, love. so just sit there and let your husband take care of you." his voice was low and deadly. your best option would to just let simon do what he wanted.

-

"so mrs. riley. you've decided against the divorce. any particular reason why?"

you relaxed a little bit in the sleek office chair across the desk from your lawyer. your hand was on your middle as you smiled, "well, we're having a son soon, and he needs his father in his life. so i reconsidered."

"the case against your husband is fairly strong. broken locks on the door, his overly possessive behaviour, the text messages and voice mails, all of it. you could be granted a divorce quite easily."

you shook your head, "no need. we've worked it out." you smiled at the lawyer. you knew your simon was waiting for you in the car. his words echoed in your mind as you assured your lawyer that her services weren't needed.

you and simon were properly a family now. you didn't need to tear it apart. after all, how else were you going to end up with many little rileys running around?

[strange-mystery]

Paper Mario thousand year door on switch?!?

[pearlispunk]

How'd that get there, Mr. Miller?

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you’re sent to spend the weekend in a cabin by a lake with joel because your dad’s off to a work trip. warnings / contents: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified age gap but reader’s in her twenties, DBF JOEL, smut, unprotected piv, f masturbation, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, pet names, soft! joel, daddy kink (??), praise kink, cream pie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 2.9K

a/n: i recommend playing shades of cool by lana del rey while reading this, keep it on loop and enjoy °༄ !

“Well? You comin’?” Joel asks, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. He’s just asked you to come with him to spend the weekend in his cabin by a lake. “Your dad’s asked me to bring you anyway so I dun’ think you have a choice, kid.” He clicks his tongue, his palm placed by the edge of the table. 

Alright, what could go wrong? Joel’s your dad’s friend, they bonded over work– he’s a great guy. You’ve been in his place a few times, mainly ‘cause of barbecues and sports nights– he’s neat. He’s always there when you ask for help around the house or your car– he’s handy. So, what could go wrong?

“‘Right then, ‘ya should go pack up. We leave early, angel.” He says with a nod, finally walking out of the house. 

Curse your dad for leaving you for an entire weekend due to a work-related thing. Curse your dad for making you spend the weekend with Joel. 

Joel. 

Joel, the man that you ogle at every Sunday morning when he’s out mowing the lawn. Joel, the man who always hikes his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he worked on your car. Joel, the man that calls you any pet name and leaves you blushing and well.. wet.

Joel, the man that you fantasize about at night, when you’re three fingers in, mouth agape, and whining about how he would fill you up much, much better. 

Snap out of it. What were you thinking? The man’s around your dad’s age– hell, maybe even older. 

You hurry upstairs to your room, pulling out a travel bag big enough for an entire weekend. You settle it by packing one red gingham bikini– for swimming, of course. Two sun dresses, a tank top with matching shorts for sleeping, one loose polo for covering, and then a summer hat. Alright, you’re set.

The drive was a blur. You immediately dozed off to sleep when your head hit the pillow by the car window. 4 hours later, Joel’s voice causes you to wake up, his hand placed on your shoulder– gently nudging your senses awake. “We’re here, doll.” He lets go as you stir, a small grin playing on his lips as you yawn. 

As soon as you step into the cabin, you place your things in the guest room. “Y’know, we can switch rooms. I know that mattress is a ‘lil too old, feels weird on the back.” He leans by the doorframe, his hands making gestures that match his words. “I’m alright here, Joel.” You let out a chuckle, shaking my head. 

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.”

“Need some help around the cabin?” You hum aimlessly from inside the cabin. Just then, the front door opens, his tall frame shadowing the entrance, “‘M alright, sugar. Don’t want such a pretty girl like you doing any kind’f work.” He’s shirtless. Changed into something more comfortable when you set down your things. His chest displayed beads of sweat, his arms looked rugged, and his hair was tousled into perfect curls that almost resembled a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.

Well? Do you know any better?

The afternoon hours dragged slowly, and you were bored out of your mind. Joel was working around the cabin, breaking wood for fire and fixing a few things for his truck. He’s caught you staring a few times now, a smirk tugging on his lips whenever he did. How could you not? When he’s right there outside your window, all his glory displayed for your eyes to witness. His shorts seem unbelievably tight, seeing as how you can practically see the outline of his cock. His arms, his hands.. they were so big, big enough to have them all over your body, over your mouth as he fucks you from behind, or over your breasts as he kneads and teases your nipples. 

You backed off from the window, shaking your head as you tried to bring yourself back to reality. Sighing, you grab your bag– changing into that red gingham bikini. You let your hair down, brushing it with little care through your fingers. You reach out to the sunscreen lotion by your nightstand, applying a thin layer on your body. Think about something else, go do something else, anything else– instead of checking out your dad’s friend. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, the bikini a stark contrast to your skin. You let your hands run down your sides, your hips, your thighs, your heat. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your index finger reached in, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles. It slips in, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, whispering his name so sweetly. 

Joel. 

Need you, Joel. 

You walk back down on your bed, laying on your back as you start fingering yourself in front of the mirror. Your other hand finds its way down your body, taking care of your clit. You add another digit, your walls clenching around your fingers. 

Ah, fuck- would’ve been much better if it was you, Joel. 

Your back arches and you squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts lingering on the sight you beheld earlier. Your hips start to meet the rhythm of your fingers, your mouth whispering obscenities as you chase your release. You tear your eyes open, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your legs are spread, two fingers buried in your cunt, and a dazed-out expression. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You hear the squelch of your skin combined with your essence, and you let your head fall back. Your hips stutter up as if to grind on something, on someone. You let out a whine, burying your digits in your cunt as you lay still, letting your orgasm wash over you. You catch your breath, regaining your consciousness as you let yourself melt in the bedsheets. Your eyes instantly snap open as you swear you heard the squeak of your door. Your neck cranes towards the direction of the door, seeing as it slightly creaked to the right, you knew.

He was watching you. 

Two can play this game, you decided. You took your bikini top off, putting on just the loose white polo. You left the last two buttons as it is, not bothering to cover your peeking cleavage. Bikini top in hand, you left the room. Joel was nowhere in sight, but the front door was open– letting the afternoon sun spill into the cabin. 

You walked towards his room, the door was open, but he wasn’t there. And so, you hurriedly slipped inside, dangling your bikini top right between your fingers. You place it right by the headboard, stepping back to look at it. You nod, a smile creeping on your face as you exit the room.  

It would be funny, you imagine. Him coming to find that in his room, a silent acknowledgment that you knew. Getting the Joel Miller all flustered as he sees what you’ve left for him. 

After your little adventure, you grab your summer hat and walk outside towards the lake. You reach the end of the porch, sitting on it as you let your feet sink in the water.

About a few moments later, you decided to go back to the cabin to help yourself with some refreshments. You figured Joel was somewhere near the cabin, gathering more wood or whatnot. 

As you stepped inside, you heard muffled grunts. Your head perked up, your body slowing your steps as you approached the door to his room. 

Was he..? 

You pushed the door open, revealing Joel on the edge of the bed, his left hand stroking his cock as it leaks pre-cum. On his other hand, you can see the piece of clothing you left. The red gingham bikini top. His cock almost looks angry with the pinkish-red tip of it, and you can’t help but admire Joel’s frame. His face, contorted into a look of pure bliss. His chest, heaving laboredly with beads of sweat. His large hands, the other stroking his cock rabidly, the other clinging on to that bikini like some kind of lifeline. 

“How’d that get there, Mr. Miller?” 

Your words pry his eyes open. The grip over his cock tightening as he lets out a breathy chuckle, “How’d this-?” He holds up the piece of garment, “You really are somethin’, huh?” He stands up, tossing it aside as he backs you up against a wall. “Actin’ all innocent, like you weren’t just touching yourself and moaning my fuckin’ name.” He says the last bit in a whisper, his eyes locking with yours. “Think I don’t notice the way ‘ya look at me, angel?” He nudges the tip of his cock against your covered heat and you buck your hips up to meet it with friction. He hisses, his hands landing on your hips to make you stay in place, “You want this, baby?” He looks up at you with an earnest expression, his thumbs circling the plush of your hips as he waits for your response.

You nod, almost frantically, as you start to unbutton your garment. You’re impatient, crashing your lips on his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall under your thighs, pulling you up and carrying you. It’s an effortless task for him, picking you up like you’re all but a peach. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You tilt your head to the side, your right hand tangled with his hair, the other on his cheek as you deepen the kiss and your tongue meets his. You feel his hands grope your ass, his hips grinding his cock up your clothed heat. 

You let your garment fall off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. You pull away, resting your forehead on his as you try to catch your breath. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmurs, moving his head and latching his lips on your neck. The nickname feels so contradicting now, and though you’ve heard it so many times before, this time it just felt so… good. “So beautiful, and all for me.” He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of love bites as he sets you down on the bed. 

“Open up and show me.” Were his words as soon as you felt the soft bedsheets. You felt the rush of blood racing to your cheeks, painting you red. You squirm under his gaze, your knees touching as you look at him. 

“Now don’t get all shy on me, darlin’.” He kneels in front of you, both hands on the flesh of your thighs, urging them apart. He dips his head down, kissing your knees up to your thighs. You hesitate for a second before finally giving in, spreading your legs apart. He lets out a low whistle, fingers hooked on the sides of your bikini as he pulls it down. “She needs me,” He smirks, his fingers rubbing along your folds, “Look at that, all wet and ready for me, hm?” He looks up at you as he pushes a finger in. 

“J-Joel.” You strain.

“That ain’t my name, sweetheart.” 

“Daddy.” You sound it out, whimpering as he pushes another finger in. “‘S more like it.” He leans in, his tongue licking on your clit. He drags it out slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of properly tasting you. Two fingers from him were three from you, and right there and then you knew you were fucked.

His other hand reached up to your breasts, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it teasingly. You lay your back, arching against his mouth. Your hands reach out to his arm, holding on to it for dear life as he laps you up greedily. At the same time, he put his fingers to work, your walls clenching around his invading digits. 

“T-Think I’m gonna–” You squirm beneath him, hips bucking up to grind more of yourself against his mouth. He looks up at you, practically committing the sight to memory as he keeps the steady pace of his fingers and mouth. He encourages you, muffled grunts omitting from his mouth– causing vibrations to ripple through your cunt. This snaps something inside of you, and you finally let go. Your grip on his arm tightens, the heels of your feet digging into his back, a string of moans leaving your mouth as he slowly exits his fingers from your aching core.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, never letting your eye contact break as he brings it up to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking circles all over it. “Feel good, angel?” He asks softly, leaving kisses on your inner thigh down to your knees. You nod, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes widen in shock as he stood up, the tip of his cock leaking more of his pre-cum– still red with anger, with interest. It was twitching too, more so when he looked at the state of your gaping hole. 

“Think she can take me, sweetheart?” He asks with a rasp, leaning over you to rub the tip over your dripping cunt. You say nothing, your mind is too distracted by how good he feels just by rubbing the tip against you. “Figure that’s a yes, right, sweet girl?” He holds your chin, tipping it up to face him. 

There was something in your eyes, a tinge of desperation, perhaps. Whatever it was, it’s what caused Joel to snap his hips, pushing all of his length inside you. You hook one of your legs by his waist, your arms over his shoulders as you adjust to the girth of his cock. “Feel so f-full..” You mumble, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, “Doin’ so good f’me, angel.” He pulls his cock out til the tip is what’s left inside you before slamming it back in. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching so far up on his body that your tits press up against his chest. He groans, his hand snaking around your back for support. He keeps an unforgivable pace, the tip of his cock reaching all the spots that make you see stars. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging on his back as your cunt clamps down on his cock. “Drivin’ me crazy,” He pants against the side of your ear, “You take me so well, angel.” He praises, leaving open-mouthed kisses by your jaw. 

“Like y’were made for me.” He speeds up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with fervor. At this rate, you feel a knot tighten by the pit of your stomach, desperate for release. 

And just then, he pulls out. 

“Joel–” You start to whine, your cunt squeezing around nothing. You feel his hands by your waist, lifting you off the bed and flipping you over to your knees. Your mind had very little time to process what had happened before he slams his cock back into your needy cunt. “Shit- ah, d-daddy-” You slur on your words, lifting your ass up to meet his cock. “Mhm, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl.” He starts to move relentlessly, wanting you to break. 

“Look so pretty like this.” He moans lowly, fucking into you rapidly. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. That earns a groan from him, “Jus’ like that, angel.” He thrusts his cock, no– buries it in you, punctuating every word with the movement of his hips. 

His hands dig down on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and his hips start to stutter and go out of rhythm. Your hand continues down on your clit, combining the pleasure with his cock. He holds out, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock before he fills you with his spend.

“Come on, angel.” He coaxes you, and you swear you saw heaven flash before your eyes. You moan out his name, your head collapsing on the bed as your arms give out. “Daddy–! Fuck, fuck, fuck.. Fuck!” You feel your juices gush down to your thighs, your legs trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm.  

He leans down, latching his lips on your neck and biting down on the flesh, positively leaving a mark on it as he pushes one last thrust in you. “Fuck, look at you.” He pants, burying his cock further in, flooding your walls with thick, white ropes of cum. “Milkin’ it all out,” He squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling his cock out to reveal your stuffed pussy, a string of cum connecting you both. A gush of cum creeps its way out of your cunt, and you can feel his fingers push it back in you. 

You try to catch your breath, your mind completely fucked out as your body melts into the sheets. He lays down beside you, pulling you close til your head leans on his chest. “Such a good girl f’me, angel.” He kisses the top of your head gently, “Did so great, sweet girl.” He wraps his arms around you, his head leaning down on yours. 

Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? 

red gingham divider by @issysh3ll , yellow divider by @strangergraphics ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: this is my first ever work, so please feel free to correct me about my mistakes T w T, i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! i'm actually thinking of making a part 2 for this but i'm not so sure ab that, reblogs, notes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joeldjarin @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk

[chelseeebe]

truth or dare

18+. mdni. smuuuut. yeah man it’s really just smut. eddie munson x female reader.

a/n: not sure if i really like this but i wanted to post something while i work on this other long ass thing that may never see the light of day el oh el a continuation to gimme a hand and bump n’ grind or can absolutely be read on it’s own!

steve and robin had made the right call, leaving a few hours ago before the storm really hit.

eddie’d stupidly offered another joint, not wanting to let you go so soon. optimistic that maybe something would happen after those two had cleared off.

you’d been darting around it all evening, watching the movie with your hand under the blanket, stroking his thigh. inadvertently, or perhaps purposefully, making his cock shift with every length of your hand.

you peer out of the window, clicking your tongue against the back of your teeth, “i don’t think i can drive,” turning back to face him, “it’s really comin’ down out there,” a hint of satisfaction in your voice.

“i’m sure wayne won’t mind if you crash here,” shrugging softly.

you used to stay around a lot when you were slightly younger, back when touch was innocent and there weren’t all these complicated layers to your relationship.

“can you handle that?”

his eyes roll back, “shut up,” sitting back in his spot on the couch. anticipating spending the night here rather than in his bed, desperate to prove that he could handle it.

“whatcha wanna do?” you sing, pursing your lips.

“i dunno,” he shrugs, “we could watch another movie?” knowing that ultimately, another movie would lead to you touching his thigh until he came or something.

“that’s boring,” scowling at his suggestion, “i mean.. we are stuck in here,” biting on your bottom lip, “let’s play a game,” you propose, cocking your head, “truth or dare.”

eddie groans, an unwilling participant in your silly little games.

“come on,” offering zero incentive for him to play, “it’ll be fun,” taking another swig of the surely luke-warm beer. “truth or dare?”

there is not a single bone in his body that wants to play with you. no doubt you’d have him confessing to something embarrassing or doing something dangerous or stupid.

“dare,” he says flatly, hoping you’ll dare him to jump out of the window or something.

“i dare you..” you ponder for only a second, “to take your shirt off.”

“wh-,” he starts, mouth falling open, “well i dare you to take your shirt off.”

“it’s not my turn, idiot,” pursing your lips, “off.. now.”

pouting your lips, watching carefully as he lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the other side of the room.

“alright,” honing in on this stupid game, “truth or dare?”

“dare.”

eddie’s eyes light up, “take your shirt off,” immediately getting his own back.

“you’re supposed to say i dare you before your dare,” tutting at his impatience, though you do as he says.

lifting your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy bra you had most definitely chosen on purpose. maybe this was your plan all along, waiting to get him alone to inflict your cruel wrath upon him.

he ogles just enough to not have you mention anything, diverting his attention back to whatever drivel was on the tv. desperate to just get over this dancing around each other and get to the inevitable.

“truth or dare?” you ask again, poking his leg with your foot.

“do we have to play?” eddie whines.

“yes.”

“okay truth,” he spits, leaning back against the cushions.

“why didn’t it work out with you and chrissy?”

he groans again, already sick of this, “we wanted different things,” different things being you, he means.

“like what? i thought you were testing the waters or whatever?” mocking him with his own words.

“you. you jerked me off and ruined my life forever, is that what you wanted me to say?”

you ponder in silence for a moment before that god awful smirk creeps onto your face, “actually yes, that’s exactly what i wanted you to say,” crossing your legs, all self-righteous and smug.

it’s not like you didn’t already know this, it was fairly obviously to anyone with eyes and two brain cells to rub together.

“your turn,” smiling pointedly at you, “truth or dare?”

you hum, contemplating your options, whatever you picked, he was surely going to make it worth his while.

“dare.”

“alright,” eddie sits up straight, poking his tongue into his cheek, “i dare you to run around outside in your underwear,” if you wanted to play stupid games, you could win stupid prizes too.

your smile grows, taking over your entire face, “fine,” standing from your spot on the floor, shimmying out of your jeans right in front of him.

he jumps up, rushing to the door as you bound outside, filling the silent trailer park with your squeals and squeaks.

eddie watches in quiet amazement, more focused on the way your tits move with every bound, your lacy panties framing your jiggling ass perfectly. he’s close to drooling, turning into a slobbering mess at the sight of you literally frolicking in your panties. he was a pathetic man, and he knew it.

you turn, running full speed back into the door, teeth chattering and your hands trembling from the cold. barrelling straight past him, back into the warmth, lashes coated in tiny, intricate snowflakes.

“fuck!” you screech, “you asshole,” picking up his discarded shirt to slip on instead of your own. he wishes you hadn’t. seeing you half naked in his shirt was far worse than seeing you actually naked.

eddie snickers, closing the door all the while trying to keep his composure.

a smirk erupts onto your face, something ticking away in your brain before you stomp over, grabbing his cheeks with your ice cold hands, grinning with pure self satisfaction.

he hollers, grabbing your wrists in defence. it becomes a flailing sort of dance, with you trying to keep your cold hands on his face and him fighting to get you away. a mixture of expletives fill the trailer, screeching over one another as you move around the room.

you trip over one of the discarded bottles on the floor, sending you flying back onto the couch, still breathlessly cursing him out.

eddie takes the only logical step, pouncing on top of your flailing body, bounding your arms together at the wrist, heaving for breath.

he freezes, the realisation that for once he had all the power dawning upon him, unequipped for the sudden change in dynamic.

he can feel you, underneath him, pressed into the couch by his body, sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna do something or what?” you snark, no longer trying to wriggle free, accepting and even pleased in your defeat.

“yeah,” he adds meekly, despite not making an attempt to actually do something.

your brows thread together, knee sliding up the side of his body, spreading your legs further as his cock perks up in response.

holy fucking shit.

this was it.

or it could be it if he can gather his raucous thoughts enough to make a move.

eddie’s had sex before, multiple times in fact. he doesn’t understand why his hands aren’t doing the thing they should be, why he’s frozen in place, waiting for something to happen.

“we don’t have to, you know?”

fuck. he was going to fuck this up through sheer stupidity.

so instead of letting his brain worm his way out of what would probably be the best moment of his life, he thinks with his dick.

pressing his lips to yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. letting your hands free from his restraint, allowing you to weave your fingers through his hair just like he’d thought so much about.

his hands crawling underneath his shirt, touching your skin for what felt like the first time ever, gliding over your waist, appreciating the soft feel of your skin, lingering for too long.

he doesn’t want to take it off, how many times could he say he’d have sex with you with his shirt on?

you’d already stripped him out of his clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination as his hips grind down against yours, breathing shakily into your mouth.

your lips latch onto his, tongue sliding into his open mouth while your fingers pull gently at his curls.

even when eddie thinks he’s fully in control, you still take charge. rutting your hips upwards, separated by the thin layer of lace and his boxers that most definitely had a hole in them.

there’s a fifty percent chance that he’ll cum right away, already incredibly hard, teetering on the edge.

it’s genuinely incomprehensible that after months and months of longing and edging, this was finally happening. too caught up with trying to keep to your pace to really think about the implications on your relationship too much.

he hopes that this won’t change anything, at least not negatively anyway.

your hand slides down the tiny space left in between your bodies, toying with the waistband of his boxers before slipping in. unable to contain his groan from slipping out and into your mouth.

tugging the fabric down just enough to let his cock out, giving him no time to recover before your fist wraps around the base of his cock, pumping your fingers around the sensitive skin.

“fuck,” he breathes, bottom lip still latched onto yours. no hand had ever come close to yours, filling his thoughts since you’d touched him for the first time.

wayne’s ratty old couch wasn’t exactly the romantic location he’d envisioned this happening in, but beggars can’t be choosers and eddie certainly wasn’t going to complain.

he’s so dumbfounded that any of this is even happening, clumsily fumbling with the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down haphazardly, with no care or grace.

his previous displays of desperation made sure you didn’t care about his composure, or else you wouldn’t be here.

your lips collide, all teeth and tongues and spit. eddie too focused on the feel of your hand around his cock to care.

he can feel your body shift from underneath, manoeuvring his cock to your soaked entrance, letting out the most ungodly noise as the tip glistens with your slick.

pressing your sweaty forehead against his, begging for his full attention, “look at me,” you insist, running your fingers around his cock, withholding him from full satisfaction.

he does as you ask, finding your wild-eyed gaze, holding it just long enough to slide into your slick cunt, grunting into the hot air that hung around the room.

“fuck,” you bite, weaving your fingers through his hair, tightening your things around his waist.

it’s dizzying. feeling you envelope around him just as he’d imagined countless times before. you’re so warm and so wet, so so wet. eddie can’t help but wonder if this is how you’d felt when you were grinding against him.

nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the fuzzy haze that’d encapsulate his brain, thoughts only of you and your body and your pussy.

his balls slap against your ass, slow and steady, hoping not to bust five seconds in. keeping his eyes on yours, encapsulated by the way they flit between his eyes and his lips.

heaven wouldn’t be too far off this, he thinks.

his rhythm is neither here nor there but he was trying, filling you to the hilt and then pulling back out again.

every soft, melodic gasp and cry you made was echoing through his brain, spurring him on to make them louder.

purely intoxicated with your pussy, gasping for more as he slams against your hips.

this wasn’t going to last long but he sure as shit was going to make it worthwhile.

you writhe underneath his body, fingernails grazing against his scalp, gentle and yet demanding.

“sh-shit eds,” you pant, jaw slack with your tongue practically lolling out of your head.

just hearing you moan his name has detrimental effects on his brain chemistry. his eyelids struggle, fluttering open just enough to meet your glossy eyes, pupils blown out and crazy. this was going to wreck him for the rest of his life, cursed forever by the image of you and your parted lips. the way you wail his name becoming a tune he’d revisit constantly.

he’d love to capture it, one day, if you’d let him.

no one would ever come close to you, your cunt and your god forsaken sighs. eddie promises to himself that if there’s a next time, he’s not leaving until you cum. unsure if he’d be able to control himself but more than willing to take that risk.

his thrusts become sporadic, losing his grip on reality as he teeters closer and closer to the edge. you can see it too, tugging gently on his hair to bring him back to this reality.

pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth, too high off of your own pleasure to aim for accuracy.

eddie’s not sure if he prefers your goading or this softer touch, honestly neither were helping him not to bust his load right now.

“yeah?” you breathe, in response to his hoarse grunts, succumbing to the tightening pressure in his stomach, “you gonna cum?” sighing against his mouth.

he doesn’t want to, not really. hoping this’d last forever and ever because god knows if you’d ever let him touch you again.

hoping desperately to have not wasted his one and only time buried inside of you by cumming in five minutes flat.

but he is going to cum, in fact, he’s dangerously close to doing so immediately. the way you squeeze and tighten around him only accelerating the inevitable, his toes curling and mouth running dry.

he was seeing stars, dancing around the inside of his eyelids. woozy on adrenaline as he pathetically ruts his hips into yours for a final few lousy strokes.

“oh fuck,” eddie rushes, “no- fuck i’m cumming,” his cock slides out, thick ropes of his release covering not only your inner thighs but the couch too. collapsing atop of your perfect body, pinning you to the cushions as he attempts to gain some sort of semblance of control.

his face finds your chest, heaving for breath between your tits, his shirt pulled up just enough for your bra to peep underneath the hem.

“jesus christ,” words vibrating against your skin, almost purring at your fingers combing through his hair.

nothing he could ever dream would match up to that. the neurons in his brain had been frazzled, never to work or compute the way they should, ever again.

he places a measly kiss to your chest, looking up at you through his lashes, an insignificant gesture of appreciation that he felt he owed.

“you good?” you ask, lips twitching into a smile, unsure if you’re mocking him or genuinely concerned. either or would be fine.

“not really,” still floating up above the clouds.

“shut up,” definitely mocking, pulling tufts of his hair back to have him meet your eye fully, “you liked that?”

he nods enthusiastically, pining after your approval like the lovesick little loser he truly was. incredibly, you hadn’t run off into the storm, so maybe you had too.

“good,” abruptly letting go of his hair, his head falling back onto your chest, “get off me, i need a shower,” attempting to peel him off of your body.

eddie knows, or at least hopes, that your snippy, sarcastic comments were made out of love. you showed affection by being a bitch and he showed his by being a stumbling, pathetic loser.

if that was all he had to endure to get anywhere near your pussy again, he’d do it in a heartbeat. each and every time.

-

wayne’s knuckles wrap against his bedroom door, waking eddie from the already broken sleep he was suffering with, far too excitable to settle down properly. instead he’d spent his hours between drifting in and out of sleep and watching your dreamy face, trying to match his breaths to yours.

he slides out of bed, careful not to wake you, treading carefully to avoid the mountains of crap strewn across the floor.

“what the hell?” wayne whispers angrily, gesturing back to the living room he had neglected to clean. too caught up in you being in his shower and in his bed with his shirt on to care about empty beer bottles and discarded clothes.

“sorry,” eddie squirms, knowing he couldn’t exactly worm his way out of this one. “we had a few beers.. you know,” shrugging coyly. his uncle wasn’t stupid, he definitely did know.

wayne’s eyes narrow, flitting behind eddie to you, sleeping soundly in his bed. thankfully covered by the blanket as you slept in just his shirt.

“what happened there?” raising his brow at his inconspicuous nephew.

he shrugs, and then he grins. that great big toothy grin that wayne couldn’t mistake.

wayne shakes his head, tutting to himself as he backs away from the door, “clean that shit up before i wake up,” before disappearing into his own room.

eddie smiles to himself, sliding back into bed when you stir, humming softly, displeased to have been woken up so early.

“is he mad?” you mumble, muffled by the pillow.

“no.. no, not really,” eddie hushes, turning on his side to face you.

you’re still dozing, not bothering to open your eyes though he didn’t mind, you were peaceful this way, far calmer than your usual self.

“good,” settling into the pillow before slinging your leg over his thigh, pulling yourself closer, “he loves me too much to do anything anyway,” nestling your body into his side.

if the world ended tomorrow, eddie would die a happy man.

[isamoa]

“ COMIN’ BACK FOR MORE! ”

jjk men x f!reader ࿐ MDNI.

ᰔ、summary. jjk men when the pussy is too good

ᰔ、tags. (ft. toji, geto, gojo, choso, sukuna, nanami), nsfw, female anatomy, fwb tropes, unestablished relations, p in v, threesome, cunnilingus, virgin!choso, fingering, homewrecking/cheating

──── TOJI FUSHIGURO、

toji didnt do the whole “friends with benefits” thing. he was more of a hit and run type of guy when it came to fucking—and he planned on keeping it that way when you came around. sure you were a little cuter than other girls he’s been with, he’ll admit that. but that didn’t make you any different.

but your face card was the least of his worries, and poor toji was unfortunately a little too late to realize it. your pussy was what he should have really been afraid of. it sucked him dry like no other had ever before; leaving him a confused mess when he left your apartment without a word the next morning.

he had an unfamiliar desire to do it all over again with you. toji fushiguro never slept with the same girl twice. but maybe he could make an exception—just this once.

“thought you only did one night stands?” you confronted the man on top of you suddenly, whining at the way he pushed down on your legs; knees practically touching your ears. it was well past midnight when toji had unexpectedly shown up at your door unannounced, not even bothering to give a simple ‘hello’ before his mouth was on yours and he was pushing you towards the couch. “had to have this pussy again, ma.” he admitted with defeat, hips plowing harshly into your stretched cunt. no amount of pride could have stopped him from coming back to this. you felt too fucking good to give up so easily—he wasn’t gonna let you get away as easy as everyone else. “it’s so fucking- you’re too fuckin’ good.” he stuttered out, his cock throbbing at the orgasmic feeling of your walls tightening around him. “so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

──── SATORU GOJO + SUGURU GETO、

gojo and geto did everything together. it was normal for best friends to want the same thing—and apparently that applied to woman too. suguru even planned on keeping you a secret at first, but ultimately couldn’t help himself from calling up satoru to tell him how good of a fuck he just had.

you couldn’t remember what had exactly led to you sleeping with the both of them, all you knew was that if you had one—you had to have the other?

you didn’t really understand their reasoning for it, but you weren’t gonna turn the idea down. especially when gojo insisted that if you didn’t fuck the both of them, you wouldn’t fuck at all.

“can’t believe you weren’t gonna share this with me, sug.” satoru mumbled between your legs, referring to the man but yet speaking to your cunt. you were positioned comfortably in suguru’s lap with your back against him, his chin resting on your shoulder while his fingers played with your clit and satoru’s tongue dug further into your folds. “knew you would act like an idiot.” suguru explained, his hand’s movements pausing for a moment to yank on satoru’s white strands in annoyance. his face lifted from the warmth between your thighs to cry out in pain, earning an annoyed whine on your end. “like you are now.” suguru spoke again, interrupting the man below who went to sit up, a snarl on his face before you spoke up in a frantic plea. “s-stop arguing and just let me cum.”

──── CHOSO KAMO、

you and choso were already good friends before the two of you had sex. heck, it wasn’t even a thought until he came to your house one late afternoon, saying something along the lines of needing to know how to give head since he’s starting to talk to this one girl. who better to teach him than you?

you agreed on behalf of being such a good friend—making him swear that it would only be a one time thing. he did so immediately of course; being that was what he had in mind to begin with.

but that soon was proven to be a lie when he ended up coming back to your place, insisting that he needed you to teach him how to fuck this time.

“like that?” he questioned quietly, his tone somewhat shaky from the rough pace he had going as he pushed into your slick cunt from behind, his hands gripping your waist with a gentle pressure. you groaned at the stretch, your face buried into the pillow to suppress your moans as your body jerked back and forth. “fuck- yeah cho, just like that.” you praised greedily, turning your head to rest on your cheek and look at him from behind. “doin’ so good baby.” you had almost forgotten you were supposed to be giving him tips—too focused on how good he felt; and how he didn’t even need any guidance. “you sure you never fucked anyone before?”

──── SUKUNA RYOMEN、

sukuna knew he was gonna get into your pants the second you introduced yourself to him. being roommates and all, this man heard everything. so he gladly took the chance to fuck you the moment he heard the front door close and you bid the guy you brought over a tired goodbye.

he’s heard you orgasm before when you touched yourself at dark hours, so it was easy to tell the difference when you faked one that same night before the man left. he took it upon himself to help you out; show you how a real man fucks.

the both of you found the amount of times you brought a date home getting lesser and lesser, before ultimately stopping completely. it just wasn’t worth it anymore; what with sukuna coming out of his bedroom to interrupt you the moment he heard you lead them into your own and all.

“finally gave up, huh pretty?” sukuna whispered huskily into your ear, his hand gripping your jaw tightly as he fucked his fingers into your soaked pussy. a whine escaped in response to his cocky comment, followed by a pout forming on your swollen lips. his fingers dug deeper, the base of his palm cupping your entire core as he pumped it in and out; a wet slapping noise filling the room. “no one fucks this pussy as good as me.” he states proudly, bringing your face up to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. “go on, say it.” he commands against your mouth; the last thing you hear before you’re gushing on his fingers, whining like a little bitch in heat. “that works too.”

──── KENTO NANAMI、

you met nanami at a bar a few days before you were supposed to start at your new job. your nerves were sky high, and you just wanted to go home with someone, fuck the shit out of them, and relax. you didn’t mean for the same someone to be your new coworker.

and it wasn’t a big deal at first—you fucked your coworker, so what?—at least not until you saw the sparkling wedding band that decorated his ring finger. that definitely wasn’t there the night at the bar.

he made you swear up and down to keep what happened between the two of you a secret; insisting that it was nothing more than a drunk accident and a horrible mistake. but apparently not horrible enough to stop him from sneaking you into the bathroom during his break every once in a while.

“you’re such a f-fucking pervert.” you cursed into the palm of kento’s hand that was wrapped securely around your mouth, his other one rubbing his throbbing cock along your wet folds. “fucking me when you’ve got a- shit.. wife at h-home.” you whimpered when he finally pushed into your sensitive hole, a groan erupting from his throat at the tightness. all this talk about being so loyal to his wife, but he’s got you sitting on the bathroom sink with his cock stuffed inside a pussy that doesn’t belong to him. he lets out a breathy chuckle, pulling your hips closer so you slap against his pelvis. “how ‘bout i make you a mommy then, hm?” he suggests, skin colliding against yours as the hand over your mouth moves to the side so he could peck your pouty lips. “get you knocked up so i can be with you full time.”

[siriusleee]

beating, twice

↳ 3.8k words

↳ simon has a new heart

↳ author's note: this has been sitting in my google docs since december of last year. so i'm posting it now because i've become stuck and can't figure anything else out with it

The mountains had never appealed to Simon; he preferred the asphalt jungle of London; the glittering beetle eye concrete of New York City. Easier to disappear into, the pulsating feel of the crowds giving him a sense of anonymity. But at discharge, the doctor's told him to take it easy - to enjoy retirement. 

"You're not exactly a young man anymore Mr. Riley," the military doctor said, a silver wedding ring glittering on the back of her clipboard. "You're being medically discharged - you need a plan to keep yourself healthy."

A new identity. A retirement account. A generous do-over to a life filled with one time only regrets. His heart had been grafted over with a piece from a soldier who died in the same blast that nearly killed Simon. He'd told the doctor when he woke up that he could feel it squeezing his heart, but the doctor told Simon that it was just psychosomatic - he knew there was a new piece to his heart and so he felt it. 

It took a year of rehab before they finally got tired of him, and another six of bureaucratic hell before the paperwork was finally processed. 

The relocation specialists asked him where he wanted to live - Simon didn't know what to say. He'd been all over the world, and yet the name of a singular town couldn't crawl towards his lips. 

"You can just point at the map," the specialists had said, fingers twirling a pen. "Some guys do that." So that's what he did - the clock ticking in his ears growing louder and louder as he stood, stupidly, staring at the map on the wall. He tried to count the seconds. How many had passed? Two minutes? Three? His eyes scanned the map, looking for places that he hadn't been to before, places that didn't leave a bad taste in his mouth. 

And then he spotted it - a little dot on the map nestled in the Black Hills. No where he'd even been before, or nowhere he had a memory of. But that graft on his heart squeezed when he saw the name, and before he could think, he was tapping the map with his fingernail. 

"Alright - I'll have you a place in a week."

The compulsion to walk starts the moment the last box is moved in; the pile of boxes pathetically small in the little house the military bought for him. Or maybe it was once a safe house - Simon didn't know and he didn't care. The walls are faded and the porch sagging, but it's a fresh coat of paint on the water stains that have plagued him. Simon can sense the neighbors peering out at him from behind their curtains; they twitch back into place when Simon steps out onto the porch, the wood moaning beneath the weight of his boots. The sky threatens to spit snow onto him; the first snowfall of the year comin' soon the movers had quipped to him. Simon hadn't replied, just grunted as he passed over the two hundred dollars he owed for moving everything in.

The air bites at his exposed face. When was the last time he was exposed like this? When was the last time he was allowed to show his face like this? Something like self-consciousness presses against him, making it hard to breathe until he tugs his hood over his head and he can breathe again.

The grass crunches beneath his feet, curled brown to protect itself from the oncoming storm. He doesn't look at where he's going, just lets his feet take him where they want to go as the sun slips beneath the treetops. The town falls to sleep around him as his boots carve patterns into the concrete. 

The music stops him short. It's entirely out of place on the starlit street - the notes tripping over one another to spill out onto the asphalt with a gentleness that rolls through the darkness. It makes him sick to his stomach with something he can't place, some feeling on the edge of his tongue that he hasn't felt since Johnny's funeral, since he heard gunshots and saw the way Price's hand shook as he shook the hand of Johnny's mother. The absence of something he refuses to name. He's sure he's never heard it before, but it pulls him back to sand beneath his boots and to the hum of Blackhawks above him.

The street is devoid of life; light spills out of the windows and onto the streets, little jewels that hang onto the rough and cracked concrete of the sidewalk. The music is faint- a radio turned down so a conversation can be heard. The entire street is frozen with him, the little flurries that were attempting to collect on the street cracks hang heavy in the air, breathing with him. 

Simon doesn't know how long he stands there, hands in the pocket of his jacket and letting the music wash over him. But it stops eventually, and the entire street lets go of the breath it's been holding; the flurries start to fall again, faster to make up for their pause with Simon. 

It suddenly occurs to him that he must look like a fucking freak, standing there on the sidewalk, David beneath Michelangelo's hands. It takes every bit of strength in his body to keep his boots moving, moving away from the last notes that linger and swirl around him.

He walks all night, finally falling into the bed with no sheets when the sun starts to peak back out.

He gets a job as a mechanic. His references - names all made up and cell phone numbers that lead forgotten CIA workers whose only job is to answer and read a script- give him the best recommendations, and the old man running the garage doesn't really need Simon to know how to do anything other than change spark plugs and change the oil. The man looks Simon up and down, and Simon catches the POW-MIA embroidered on the man's hat, and that's that. There's something that passes between the two of them that neither of them speak about, but they recognize it in each other's eyes. He starts the next Monday. 

He doesn't need the money. Between all the years of hazard pay that wasn't eaten away at by daycare fees or wedding bands, he has a small fortune to practice spending, but he needs the distraction from the walls that should be holding up his military honors, but instead hold blank emptiness. He hasn't been able to unpack anything. He just digs through each box when he needs something, slicing his hands against the knives and sharpened memories. 

He walks his path ad nauseum. Each night there's a new symphony that washes over the little town. He tried, more than once, to not be a fucking creep and stand in the middle of the street listening for ten, twenty, thirty minutes. But even across town he could still hear the music creeping its way through the buildings and beneath the cars. 

It stalked him beneath the street lamps until he was pulled back towards the street, trying to figure out which house the sound was coming from. 

The snow is thick on the ground, being pounded flat each night by his boots by the time he discovers which house it's coming from. The curtains are pulled back, light spilling further out onto the street than usual. The window is pushed open and the music doesn't pour out, but rushes over itself angrily. He finds himself drifting towards the open window - the music is a siren song to him. He knows it. He knows.

He knows this song. He doesn't know how he knows it, he just knows that it pulls on his grafted heart in a way that's painful.

She plays with the kind of look a person has after years of practice. Simon recognizes it as the same one he has when he cleans his gun - the look you have when you don't need to fully pay attention to what you're doing because your body knows it by memory. The song ends abruptly - the last note wrong. It stops Simon in his tracks - 15 yards from her window. He suddenly panics, thinking she's going to look at and see him standing there. She must have stopped playing because she finally caught the stalker who's been standing on her street each night. 

But she doesn't.

Instead she stands, and reaches across to slam the window shut. The house shutters from her anger, and she pulls the curtains closed. A moment later the sliver of light that was left is extinguished and Simon knows then, he needs to move. 

He's getting too comfortable. He spends too many nights outside her house listening to her play - too many nights getting closer to the window until he's found that he can stand right on the sidewalk and see her through her curtain when it's closed. 

He learns the pattern of each song by heart until one night when he passes by and the street is silent. There's no light in her windows - he immediately thinks the worst. The gun at his waist feels a thousand pounds; he reaches back to grab it as he walks up her steps.

The front door is cracked open, and his heart jumps to his throat.

Each room is empty - nothing seemingly misplaced. When he clears the final room, his shoulders sag, his gun finds its place back in its holster. He suddenly feels like creep being alone in her house.

Her.

He doesn't even know her name, and he's standing in her living room. A decrepit calico cat meows angrily when he walks by the couch, and then bounds out from its hiding spot beneath the couch to rub against his leg - completely unafraid of Simon. 

The place is empty - almost depressingly so. It mirrors his own house, no relics of family or friends. The only thing that looks used regularly is the piano. He runs his hands across the top, and it spooks him. 

He leaves, making sure the cat is left sleeping on the couch and the front door is shut tight. 

He finally figures out her name when he sees her standing in her driveway, kicking the shit out of the passenger side of her car. 

Hands tucked tightly in his pocket, he stops a respectable distance away before speaking. 

"Car trouble?"

She jumps, swinging around to face him. Her face is closed, guarded from him as she takes in his face and he wishes he had his mask back - wishes it wasn't strange to wear a mask out in the civilian word, wishes -

"Yeah it won't start; the piece of shit."

Simon keeps his spot on the sidewalk as he speaks, worried that if he moves towards her, she'll move away. 

"I work at the shop in town if you want me to give it a look."

She's shrewd; she looks at him like she's waiting on him to say something else, and he knows she's used to men hitting on her. But he can also tell she's desperate, and he can see the argument inside herself as she debates letting him look at her car. 

"I'd like that."

Her starter is completely fried, and he tells her that. She kicks the tire, but this time all the fight is removed from it, and it's a pathetic kick. 

"Thank you for telling me," she says as if the words are bitter on her tongue. 

"I can fix it for you this weekend if you want."

"I can't afford it. And I'm not sleeping with you to pay for it."

Simon snorts in spite of himself. 

"I'll get a recycled part - don't worry about it."

The argument inside herself is written all over her face, and even when she reaches out to shake his grease stained hand and tells him her name, the fight is still written across the wrinkles in her face. 

It's still there when she hands her phone to him, tells him to put his number in and to text her when he's on his way back over. 

"I can't afford this, you know."

Simon can barely hear her as she speaks over the engine, her words crawling between the houses and housing of the innards of her car to reach straight up to him. 

"You can pay me later."

"I just told you I can't afford this."

Simon's mind lingers on the emptiness of her house that he'd seen the week before - he knew better than he wanted to how little she had at the moment. But he can't let her know that, can't let her know that he's traced the inside of her house while she was gone.

When he's satisfied with the noise of the engine, he slams the hood shut. She's leaning against the driver door, her breath fogging around her - it crosses Simon's mind that he could corner her right here, tell her what repayment he wants. but he's not a fucking freak.

He's not. 

So instead he wipes the grease and dirt from his hands onto his jeans where it mixes with the grease and dirt from work and mirrors her lean. 

"Cook me dinner?"

The hint of a smile starts to creep on her face, but she bites it back. She picks at an invisible piece of lint on the sleeve of her sweater before she answers. 

"You want me to cook dinner for you? How do you know I can cook?"

"I'll take my chances."

She chews on her chapped lips before sighing, boots kicking at her tire. 

"Come by tonight, alright."

He doesn't own anything fucking nice. He's pushed all his clothes around - in the back corner his dress blues hang sadly, and everything else has a grease stain on it. 

"This is ridiculous," he growls to himself, annoyed with everything all of a sudden. He reaches into his back pocket to his phone. He's just going to fucking cancel. This is fucking stupid. This is-

She's sent a picture. He doesn't know what he's going to see when he unlocks his phone, but a little piece of him has some hopes. It's a chicken in the oven, surrounded by oranges like something out of a magazine his mother would have flipped through in the grocery line. 

Hope this is enough to repay you :)

"Fuck," he says to his pants that hang limply, and they say nothing back to him. 

He chooses the jeans with the least amount of stains. 

She's wearing a skirt with a slit dangerously high when she opens the door. 

You shouldn't wear that around the wrong men, he wants to tell her, but he is the wrong man, and he knows that, but she doesn't. He doesn't want to be the first person to tell her that about him.

His repaired heart knows the curves of her - somehow he knows that if he were to run his hand up the part of her thigh the slit is showing, there's going to be a scar there, he knows - 

"Are you alright?"

"'Course. The smell stopped me."

"That bad, huh?"

"Terrible."

She wears a hint of a smile as she steps to the side to let him in; he catches a whiff of her perfume, vanilla and tobacco and whiskey, and he's got the sudden urge to lick the base of her neck. He holds himself back, hands held behind his back as he follows her through the living room, past the piano, and into the kitchen. 

The scruffy cat comes out of the shadows to intertwine around his ankles like they're old friends. A pot boils on the stove and the chicken is on the side, steam pouring off the golden skin. 

It scares Simon how at ease he feels in her kitchen, how the kitchen table's chair is so comfortable to him. She's tense - he can read it in the tightness of her shoulders, in the way she taps her nails against the counter. 

Simon's heart beats too fast watching her flash around the kitchen and nearly jumps out of him when she places a plate in front of him. 

It feels familiar in a way that terrifies him. 

He's like a stray dog - she fed him once, and he keeps coming back. She only complains once. 

"I'm a teacher, you know. I don't make enough money to keep feeding a big man like you."

Simon buys her groceries after that, his own refrigerator growing empty as he spends more dinners at her house. He knows they both feel it - they both feel how fucking weird it is that they can orbit each other so easily despite knowing nothing about each other. 

He reads in the evenings. She doesn't have much, but she has more books than one person should, and she plays the piano and he pretends not to know the pieces. He pretends that he hasn't stood outside her house night after night committing each song to memory.

If she finds it suspicious that he hums along too fast, picks up the melody too fast, she doesn't mention it. 

"I was married once," she says, like it's a dirty secret. She taps her fingers against the glass of her beer, a sharp staccato that increases in speed like it's her heart. 

Simon doesn't say anything, just takes a drink of his own beer to quell the storm that's conjured in his chest. Married once? He doesn't know what he's supposed to feel, but it can't be this, can't be this anger that suddenly starts beating against the architecture of himself, the anger that unhooks something in his blood. 

"It wasn't very long," she continues, the rhythm of her ring getting faster, "We only were married for a year before we divorced."

Simon's beer hits the countertop with a little too much force.

"Why'd you divorce?" He doesn't mean for it to sound so eager, so fucking needy, but if she hears the edge to his voice she doesn't say. He needs to know what led to the destruction of her first marriage, so he doesn't make the same mistake with her. 

"We were kids, you know. We shouldn't have gotten married to begin with, but neither of us had anyone else. And there was no one there to tell us it was a bad idea."

"Where's he at now?"

"He's dead."

Her ring stops tapping.

"He died in a bomb blast almost two years ago. He was in the army, and he was deployed. There was nothing left of him for them to ship back to me. I didn't even know that he listed me as his family."

Simon's mouth is suddenly dry, and he feels like he's going to choke. She's still not looking at him, her eyes are still trained on the red neon sign behind the bar, so she misses the way he presses his hands into the bar to keep them from shaking. 

"I just thought I should tell you," she says, half turning in her chair to finally look at him.

The ground beneath him has shifted, he's off tilt and he doesn't know what to say. I might have his heart in my fucking chest and that's why I feel this way about you. 

"Can you take me home, please?"

There's a million things he wants to say, a million ways he wants to take that request. He swishes them around in his mouth with the last of his beer.

"'Course, love."

The two beers are nothing to him, but she's a different story. She stumbles on the ice in the parking lot, and steadies herself on his elbow. She doesn't let go until he opens the passenger door of his truck for her and he helps her climb in. Her foot bounces as he pulls out of the parking lot. It's a three minute drive back to her place, four for him to put the truck into park. 

He expects her to unbuckle, to climb out. But her hands don't inch towards the buckle. She seems to steel herself for what she's going to say next, and he's waiting on her to tell him that she noticed how weird he's been - she doesn't want him to come back. 

"Do you want to fuck?" She asks suddenly, and the abruptness of it takes Simon off guard. 

"What?"

"Do you want to fuck?"

Simon's hands grip the steering wheel so hard he's surprised it doesn't shatter beneath his grip. He waits just a moment too long, and she scoffs, unbuckles the seatbelt and has her hand in the door handle before he can react. 

He reaches across to grab the handle from her, keeping her from opening the door. She won't look him in the eye, instead pushing roughly on the door to try and shake it loose from his grip. 

"I didn't say no." The gentleness in his voice shocks him, but it's not enough to get her to look at him. 

"You didn't say yes either."

She breaks the door from his grip and slides out, her skirt hiking up high enough that he catches the edge of her curves.

His stolen heart beats, trying to escape his chest as she disappears inside - to get the fuck out from behind the steering wheel, to knock on her door and explain that his timing is bad, he doesn't know what to say and when he's supposed to say it. He tells himself he's going to leave when the light from her bedroom turns off - he just wants to make sure that she's safely asleep before he leaves. 

But the light doesn't go out.

His watch creeps past midnight before the front door opens again. The nightgown she has on makes his hands sweat - it peeks out below the heavy jacket she's thrown on top. She veers towards the passenger door and when she climbs in, Simon's hands start to shake at the amount of thigh that flashes him.

"Why don't you leave?"

"I wanted to make sure you were safely asleep."

"You saw me walk into my house."

"You never know."

And she doesn't ever know. She doesn't know what kind of horrors could be around each door. Simon wants to explain that to her - explain what he's seen to her, but he doesn't know how to do that. He doesn't even know how to broach the subject of the million things that he should be telling her. 

"Why didn't you want to have sex with me?" She asks in a small voice that Simon hates, and he hates himself for being the reason she sounds like that. 

"I didn't say I didn't want to."

"Then why didn't you say yes?"

"I don't want to just fuck you."

Her knee bounces nervously.

"Alright. We can do the other stuff."

He almost tells her, more than once, about the heart that beats in his chest. Once, when he had her folded over the piano, and again, when she tangled their legs together in her bed and the ancient cat was purring on his chest. 

He's too cowardly.

[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Revolving Door

When Tate McRae said that "I keep comin' back like a revolving door" in her hit song, I guess that aptly described my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, Kentaro, or Ken for short.

He's a toxic, manipulative, trustfund gym junkie that is completely a red flag through and through, but how can I resist him when he always fashioned himself in an entirely different manner after every single time he fucked up? What I'm about to tell you is absurd but it really is the truth, but aside from being crazy rich due to his parents work, that work done by his parents also enabled him to shapeshift into any human being on Earth as long as he physically touched them. So, imagine my frustration (and obviously massive surprise that almost sent me to cardiac arrest) that after my first breakup with him, the person I have a big fat crush on because of his interest to me that came out of nowhere as I noticed him from ages before but not receiving any signal in return until after my breakup turned out to be Kentaro in disguise!

How did I found out about it? Well, he revealed himself by shifting right in front of my eyes after he fucked me. He explained that the people he decided to shift into would fall asleep as soon as he shifted into their form and so all the flirting I received from Grant was actually his. I obviously called him a fucking creep right then and there and started to throw any stuff I could find at him, until he shifted into my own fucking boss back then and styled that man in his posing brief as we knew him to be a bodybuilder and even watched his shows as he invited all the employee to support him. He grabbed me with my boss fucking muscular arm and leaned closer to me with a smirk before ravenously kissed me, using his knowledge over my fantasies that I shared with him about my boss as a weapon to attack my defense, which of course unable to resist my own wildest fantasies that came to life at that time

And that's been the dynamic ever since. Every time after our breakup and even when I already dated steadily with my now-boyfriend Lin, or Linford based on his English nickname, Ken would tease me from time-to-time for a quick fling here and there. My younger sis jock boyfriend......

the fucking plumber that worked in my house......

and even a random jogger I bumped with became a string of his identity theft victim and also my passionate lust and no matter how disgusted or wracked with guilt I was, I always returned with fascination to his different kind of embraces and deep obsession with me

He seemed to keep track of me rather obsessively, or maybe I let him track me deep within my psyche as I desired his bold moves, like shifting into my favorite coffee shop barista and sent me a crude message through HIS PHONE offering a fucking during his shift break as a reward for my loyalty to the indie coffee shop!

Or when he shifted into the fucking priest that officiated the wedding of our mutual friend, his eyes probably noticed how long I kept my eyes shut and lulled to the priest's fatherly baritone that enchanted everyone and when I caught seeing for too goddamn long at the priest taking off his suit jacket to reveal an insanely tight shirt that hugged his splendid figure. Ken used all that knowing full-well how much a man that pious turned out to be corrupted and want to fuck another man really stirred my groin with excitement

He seemed to really understand me in a molecular level, at least when it comes to my lust and sexual desires, and he utilized it in ways not a single boyfriend of mine after him managed to do.

So, after one of my escapades with him just a few months ago, this time he was in the form of my CEO's asshole son, he asked me

"What are we, really? I won't keep doing this with you, Evan. I have a life I want to build too and as much as I enjoyed your company with all your ideas and kink, this needs to be put to a stop if you really don't want to end with me. You always returned to me no matter how far you go, why can't you just stay with me then if I'm that irressistible for you?"

I was stunned........but I have no answer back then so I ran right away and leaving him to dust. I ghosted him by blocking all contacts of his because I was surprised he took all of the flings deeper than it should when I treated it as something shallow.

Nowadays, I really enjoyed Linford's presence and I've not cheated from him ever since. He's quite the gym junkie too in the past few months, I told him to bulk up and be strong and he took the advice really well and even more devoted compared to my working out hours as he has the flexibility of remote work. Things are also more exciting as Linford also shown me his shapeshifting power that makes everything so much more exciting in our bedroom, but I love his original look as it is.

[daryltwdixon]

Joel Miller x Reader Just Coffee II

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: Joel picks you up after a long day, taking you somewhere small and familiar, where conversation flows as easily as the wine. As the night winds down and Joel insists on driving you home, neither of you are ready to say goodbye quite yet.

warnings: some plot mostly smut 18+ MDNI

notes: this fic takes place in fantasy land where pinv doesn't end up in pregnancy ok thank you have a nice day. wrap it up in real life ok? im obsessed with this pre-outbreak Joel. I feel like I read & edited this til my eyes were bleeding, please lmk if you find mistakes

The evening rush had just died down when Joel walked through the door of the coffee shop again that day, his presence filling the small space. It felt easier, more relaxed now that he’d gotten used to coming around more. 

You glanced up from wiping down the counters, already feeling the exhaustion from a long shift settling into your bones.

“I thought we were meeting later?” you asked, arching a brow as you tossed the rag over your shoulder.

Joel leaned his hip against the counter, arms crossed, his hazel eyes flicking over you—messy apron, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly frizzed from the long day.

“Figured I’d pick you up,” he said, ever casual. “Walk you out.”

You let out a small groan, rubbing your hands over your face. “But I smell like coffee and milk and—” you sniffed your sleeve dramatically, “—probably cleaning supplies. Real cute first date material.”

Joel smirked, one hand rubbing along his jaw. “Well, I smell like sweat and sawdust, so maybe it’ll cancel out.”

You snorted. “If you say so,”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll just have to suffer through it together.”

That made you smile, warmth creeping up your neck despite yourself.

“Don’t worry,” he added, his voice dipping a little softer. “Second date, I’ll take you somewhere fancy. But tonight, I got somewhere I think you’ll like,”

You swallowed, your heart giving a little unexpected flutter. A second date. Meaning he had plans on seeing you way more than just for one night. And damn did you like the sound of that.

“Fine,” you sighed, pretending to be more put out than you actually were as you untied your apron. “But if I smell like an espresso machine all night, that’s on you,.”

Joel just chuckled, stepping back to let you close up.

You expected him to take you to some hole-in-the-wall diner or maybe just grab a quick bite somewhere. But instead, he walked with you down the quieter streets of the small downtown, until he stopped next to a small, tucked-away Italian restaurant with a hand-painted sign and a cozy glow spilling from the windows.

It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t trying too hard—it was the kind of place people probably came to for years, passing it down like a family secret.

“You ever been here?” he asked as he held the door open.

You shook your head. “Didn’t even know it existed.”

The second you stepped inside, warmth wrapped around you—the scent of garlic and tomatoes simmering low, fresh bread baking, the low hum of conversation filling the intimate space. String lights hung loosely across the ceiling, casting a soft golden glow over the rustic wooden tables. A candle flickered at every one, pooling small halos of light between plates of pasta and glasses of deep red wine.

“You eat here a lot?” you asked him as he stepped in behind you.

Joel shook his head. “Did some work on the building a few years back. Owners fed me a few times.” He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Keep comin’ back when I can.”

As if on cue, an older man in a white apron emerged from the kitchen, his eyes lighting up as soon as he saw Joel. He walked straight up to him, clapping him on the shoulder with a familiarity that made your brows lift.

“Miller!” the man greeted, grinning wide. He rattled something off in rapid, affectionate Italian, gesturing around the restaurant. Joel huffed out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“Good to see you too, Sal,” Joel said.

Sal patted his shoulder again, his thick fingers pressing into the fabric of Joel’s shirt like he was testing its strength. "Still workin’ with that stronzo fratellino, eh?"

Joel chuckled. “You bet.”

Sal scoffed, shaking his head. “Tsk. He was never as good with his hands as you.” He turned to you with a wink. “My best man here, best muratore in town! Fixed this place up when the siding was fallin’ off my dannata walls! Quick, clean—like an artista, eh?”

Sal laughed when Joel only shook his head, a red flush creeping up his face as he looked at you apologetically.

"Sit, sit! Please, eat whatever you like! I get you wine—" Sal finally let go of Joel, waving over the hostess with an urgency like he was hosting royalty.

“You’re quite the celebrity, Joel,” you teased, glancing up at him as the two of you followed behind to your table.

Joel sighed, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, “I promise I didn’t bring you here for that—the food’s just real good,”

“Uh-huh,” you smirked, amused, as the hostess stopped at a cozy table by the window.

Sal came back over with a bottle of wine, winking at you before heading back toward the kitchen. “Enjoy dinner, eh?”

You watched him go, then turned back to Joel, arching a brow. “So, you’re with your hands, huh?” remembering what the man said a few minutes ago.

Joel picked up the menu and hid his face. “Don’t start.”

You bit your lip, amused, and looked down at your own menu.

The dinner itself was nice.

The kind of nice that snuck up on you, unfolding in a way that felt natural, easy, like you’d done this a dozen times before.

Joel was quiet, soft spoken, but asked a lot of questions. Not just the polite kind, but ones with weight, ones that made you pause before answering. He wanted to know how you got into coffee—if it was something you always loved, or if it just happened. What made you decide to open your own shop instead of working somewhere else. If you liked being your own boss, if it was worth the stress.

And he listened, really listened, nodding as you spoke, his hazel eyes steady on you. Every now and then, he’d ask something that made you stop and think, something no one had ever really asked before.

“You ever picture yourself doin’ anything else?” he asked at one point, twirling the stem of his wine glass between two fingers.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “I guess I never thought about it. The shop is mine. My whole world’s kind of wrapped up in it.”

Joel hummed, watching you carefully. “But it makes you happy.” It wasn’t quite a question, but more an observation. 

“Yeah, yeah it does.” you answered with a smile, then tilted your head. “What about you? Do you like what you do?”

Joel exhaled through his nose, thinking. “Don’t know if anyone likes workin’,” he admitted, then nodded a thanks to the waiter as he set down your meals. “But can’t think of anythin’ else I’d be doin’. Ain’t the type to be sittin’ in a stuffy cubicle and all.”

You smirked, picking up your fork. “Oh, I don’t know… I think you’d look real nice in a suit and tie.”

Joel let out a quiet huff, shaking his head as he cut into his food. “Yeah? And what, you see me sittin’ at some fancy desk, makin’ phone calls all day?”

“I dunno,” you teased, shrugging. “Something about you in a tie just works for me.”

Joel shot you a look, amused, before taking a sip of his drink. “Maybe I’ll show up to your shop one day in one, just to surprise ya,”

“Oh, that’ll be the day,” you giggle. 

The rest of dinner went by too quickly for your liking.

Joel told you about the different jobs he’d done over the years—how he liked working with his hands, how there was something satisfying about building something solid, something that would last. There was a quiet kind of pride in his voice, nothing boastful, just a man who knew the value of hard work, of making something real.

In return, you traded stories about your most memorable customers—the regulars, the weird orders like the ones who asked for 50 different flavors in one iced coffee. Joel countered with tales of difficult clients, stubborn contractors, and one particularly bad job where a homeowner swore they knew more about construction than he did.

And when Joel chuckled at a particularly funny story, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, you began to realize—God, you liked seeing him like this. Relaxed. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, he liked being here with you, too.

And before you knew it, the waiter was coming by with the check, and the night was ending far sooner than you wanted.

The evening air was warm as you stepped out of the restaurant, your cheeks still flushed from the wine and the lingering glow of good company. Sal had insisted on treating you both with large helpings of his homemade tiramisu—claiming you couldn’t leave until you were properly fed.

Joel had muttered something about not needing dessert, but you’d watched him polish off his plate without complaint.

Outside, the street was quiet, the warm light of the restaurant spilling out onto the sidewalk as the door swung shut behind you.

“That man is dangerous,” you groaned, placing a hand over your stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.”

Joel huffed out a small laugh, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Could’ve said no.”

You scoffed. “And risk offending him? No way. I’d be blacklisted for life.”

Joel smirked, shaking his head before glancing around. “Where’s your car?”

You blinked up at him. “Oh, I walked.”

Joel’s brows pulled together. “You walk to work?”

“I live close by,” you shrugged.

Joel exhaled sharply, already looking like he was making up his mind, “Let me drive you—”

“Oh, no, it’s really okay—”

“I insist,” he said, and before you could argue, his hand found the small of your back.

Heat shot through you, electric despite how warm and gentle his palm was. You exhaled, smiling, and knew there was no point in arguing. Not when he was looking at you like that—stern, certain in a caring sort of way. So you didn’t fight it.

He walked beside you, his stride slow, deliberate. The night air was perfect with summer warmth and a cooling breeze, the quiet hum of the city stretching out around you, but you couldn't help the way that everything else had narrowed down to him—the sound of his boots against the pavement, the occasional brush of his hand near yours, close enough to feel the warmth but not quite touching.

He made a little conversation, but he was quieter now, more thoughtful. He asked about your family, where they were, if they ever came to visit. If you had much of a life outside of the shop or if it kept you too busy.

You answered easily, finding that with him, it was just...easy.

Joel didn’t fill the silence just to talk—he let it linger, let you breathe, let it settle into something comfortable, something that felt like it had always been there. 

By the time you reached his truck, you realized just how much you liked that about him. And how much you liked him.

Joel reached for the handle, about to open the door for you, ever the gentleman.

But then he hesitated. His fingers curled around the handle, but he didn’t pull. Instead, he exhaled, slow and measured, his jaw ticking as he turned to look at you.

His gaze flickered—your eyes, your mouth, then back again—just in time for you to feel it, that slow-building heat simmering between you.

“Screw it,” he muttered.

And then his hands were on you.

One at your waist, the other coming up to cradle your jaw, his rough thumb sweeping over your cheek as he pulled you into him, his lips crashing into yours with the kind of weight that sent your heart slamming into your ribs.

The breath hitched in your throat, and for a second—just a second—you forgot how to do anything but feel.

It was slow but heavy and intentional, like he’d spent all night trying to fight the urge and finally gave in. He kissed like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. It was steady, claiming, not the kind of frantic desperation you’d expect from someone who couldn’t hold back.

No, Joel took his damn time.

His lips parted against yours, deepening the kiss, pulling you further into him. His hand slipped from your jaw, fingers threading into your hair, holding you exactly where he wanted as he kissed you again, his tongue venturing past your lips, sliding along yours in a way that made you turn molten.

You gasped softly, pressing closer, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, needing something to hold onto because God—he was overwhelming in the best way.

Joel groaned low in his throat, like he’d finally let himself indulge, like this was something he’d been starving for. His grip on your waist tightened, guiding you until your back hit the truck, his body bracketing yours against the cool metal, broad and solid and so damn warm.

“You gonna open the door or what?” you teased breathlessly, between kisses, your lips brushing against his.

Joel huffed, his nose dragging along your cheek. “You in some kinda hurry?” Joel’s lips ghosted along your jaw, trailing down the column of your throat, pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin, each one making you melt further into him.

You let out a soft, breathy sigh, and Joel chuckled low against your neck, his breath hot. “Didn’t answer my question.”

You barely remembered what he asked. Your brain was fogged, drowning in the way he felt against you, the way his body crowded yours against the truck, solid and warm.

“No,” you managed, voice breathless. “No hurry.”

“Good to hear,” Joel muttered.

And then, in one fluid motion, he scooted you over, swung the door open, and hooked an arm around your waist—lifting you effortlessly, like you weighed nothing. A startled gasp left your lips as he set you down onto the worn leather seat of his truck before you could even process the shift.

You barely had a second to catch your breath before Joel climbed in after you, the door shutting with a heavy thunk, sealing you both inside. The space between you was nonexistent—all heat, all him, his presence pressing into you, crowding you in the best way.

You thanked whatever lucky stars you had that it was dark, that Joel’s truck had tinted windows, because none of it would’ve stopped you anyway. Not when you were already leaning back into him, your fingers trailing up, brushing over the scruff along his jaw.

Joel’s hand slid up your thigh, fingers curling, anchoring himself as he kissed you deeper, tilting his head to taste you fully. His other hand found your jaw, rough fingertips dragging over your skin, tilting your face toward him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you.

You sighed against his mouth, pressing closer, nails scratching lightly against the denim of his jeans. He groaned, low and deep, swallowing the sound. Then, suddenly, his grip shifted, strong hands wrapping around your waist as he pulled you forward until you were straddling his lap. 

A breath hitched in your throat, hands bracing against his broad chest as your knees pressed into the seat on either side of him. The new position had you flush against him, heat radiating between you, the space inside the truck growing impossibly small.

Joel’s eyes flickered up to yours, searching, giving you a chance to stop this before it went any further.

But you didn’t want to stop. So you kissed him again. Deeper. Hungrier.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs, rough palms trailing over denim now, gripping just enough to make your breath catch. His mouth was hot, insistent, kissing you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your lips, the taste of you, the way you sighed his name when he tilted his head to deepen it.

“I don’t usually—” you began, panting as you broke from the kiss for just a moment, lips still brushing his. “I don’t usually do this on a first date, just so you know.”

“Me neither,” Joel muttered quickly, voice rough, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers laced through your hair, tangling at the base of your neck as he pulled you closer, like the space between you was too much to bear.

His other hand trailed down, squeezing at your waist before gripping the waistband of your jeans. His fingers dipped just under the fabric, teasing, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Think you can get these off for me, sweetheart?” he rasped, his voice thick with want.

Your breath caught, “H-here?”

Joel huffed, smirking just a little, his thumb brushing back and forth over the waistband, slow and teasing. “Ain’t nobody around. Just us.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, steady, certain. “Unless you really wanna stop.”

He was giving you another chance to pull away, to tell him no, and you knew if you said the word, he’d back off immediately.

But hell no. You shook your head, breathless. “No. No stopping.”

Joel’s smirk deepened, approval flashing in his darkened gaze. “That’s my girl.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the button of your jeans, fumbling slightly. Joel exhaled a soft chuckle, amused but patient, pressing another slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat as his hands ran up and down your thighs, steadying you.

You finally got the zipper down, lifting your hips slightly as you started pushing them down, but Joel’s hands took over, firm and unhurried, hooking his fingers under the waistband and dragging them down your legs in one slow, smooth motion.

The second the denim was gone, his hands ran back up your bare thighs, gripping at the flesh of your ass, his gaze locked on you like he needed to commit this to memory.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked, pupils blown wide as he devoured you with his eyes. “Knew you had a great ass—couldn’t stop starin’ at it this mornin’.”

A flush spread through your body at his words, pooling low in your belly, but you could barely focus, too wrapped up in him, in the way he felt beneath you. Despite his claim earlier that he smelled like sweat and sawdust, you thought he smelled addicting—pure masculine heat, sweat and musk, with the faintest hint of whatever cologne or deodorant still clung to his skin. It was him, and it made you dizzy.

Heat curled low in your belly, especially when he tugged you down against him, pressing you right where you needed him, letting you feel all of him—hard, thick, pressing into the thin barrier of your panties.

A quiet moan slipped from your lips, and that sound did something to him.

“Oh, you make the sweetest little noises, baby,” he groaned, his grip tightening as he rocked you against him, his hands guiding your hips so you could feel just how much he wanted you.

His lips found your neck again, kissing, nipping, working their way lower, and you whimpered when they reached your shoulder, his fingers toying with the hem of your top.

“Think I wanna see more of you,” Joel muttered, voice thick and rough like gravel. His hands dragged up your sides, thumbs skimming the curve of your ribs. “Lift your arms for me.”

And you did—because you wanted more too. Needed it.

Joel peeled your top off slowly, taking his time, hissing when your bare skin was revealed beneath the dim light filtering through the truck’s fogged windows. His hands ghosted over you, calloused fingertips brushing along your collarbone, down to the tops of your breasts, his eyes dark as they devoured you.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muttered, mostly to himself, his rough fingers slipping beneath the band of your bra, teasing. You squirmed in his lap, eager, desperate for something, arching into his touch.

Joel huffed a quiet chuckle, his lips curling as his fingers came up to pull the cups of your bra down and began palming your breasts in both hands, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.

“That feel good, baby?” he rasped, watching your reaction as his thumbs brushed over your nipples, circling, teasing.

“Y-yeah,” you breathed, fingers digging into his shoulders.

Joel smirked, then pinched lightly, rolling the sensitive flesh between his fingers. You moaned, head tipping back, arching into his hands.

“That’s it,” he murmured, leaning in, dragging his lips down the exposed column of your throat, over your collarbone. Then he licked along the swell of your breast before finally closing his mouth over your nipple, sucking slow and deep.

You gasped, gripping his hair, your hips instinctively grinding down against him. The friction sent a rush of heat pooling low in your belly, the hard line of him pressing right against you.

Joel groaned against your skin, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before switching to the other, giving it the same slow, torturous attention.

“Joel,” you whimpered, rolling your hips against him again, the need in you growing unbearable. 

He hummed, his hands sliding down, gripping your ass, grinding you down harder against him, “You’re so needy, baby,” he muttered, his lips ghosting along your jaw. “Bet you’re already drippin’ for me, huh?”

You nodded frantically, panting, whimpering, grinding against him, desperate for more.

Joel’s hand slipped between you, his fingers slipping to cup your covered mound, feeling the dampness that had seeped through the fabric. He sucked in air through his teeth as his fingers pressed firmly, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, baby. This all for me?” he teased, “Huh?”

You gasped when his fingers would press and sometimes skim along your bare skin, running along the lace, teasing, pressing just enough to make your thighs shake.

“Please,” you breathed, writhing against him, desperate for more.

Joel hummed approvingly, slipping beneath the fabric, his fingers spreading through your slick folds, teasing your clit before dipping lower, barely pushing inside.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice rough. “Takin’ my fingers so easy.”

You moaned, body shuddering as he continued to rub gentle circles around your clit before finally pushing two fingers inside, stretching you just enough to make your breath catch in your lungs. Joel groaned, watching you, drinking in every sound, every gasp, his fingers working slow and deep, curling just right to have your whole body shaking.

Your hips rocked into his hand, grinding against the heel of his palm, pleasure building fast, coiling tight in your belly. He smirked, his thumb pressing against your clit, rubbing tight, slow circles that had your legs trembling around his hips.

“You gonna come for me, already, sweetheart?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Come on my fingers before I fuck you?”

You gasped, “Yes, yes–” your fingers digging into his shoulders, your body locking up as the coil snapped in your belly, pleasure ripping through you in waves as you cried out, coming hard against his hand.

Joel groaned, his head falling forward to kiss your sweaty skin, feeling the way you pulsed around his fingers, his cock twitching hard beneath you.

“That’s my girl,” Joel muttered, his voice wrecked as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, slick and shining in the dim light. You stopped breathing as he brought them to his mouth, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reaction as he licked them clean, his tongue dragging slow over his fingers. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, shaking his head slightly, like he was ruined by the taste of you.

Once he licked his fingers clean, he brought them to your lips and rasped, “Open,”

A wicked smile crossed your lips as you parted them obediently, letting him slide his fingers onto your tongue. Joel groaned low in his throat, watching you intently, his pupils blown wide as your lips closed around his digits.

You didn’t just take them—you sucked, hollowing your cheeks, your tongue teasing along his fingertips, slow and deliberate.

Joel’s smirk fell as his whole body tensed beneath you, muscles going taut as his free hand dug into your hip, hard, like he was barely hanging on. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat, and suddenly, his slick fingers left your mouth, his hand moving to your throat—firm but careful—pulling you down to him, kissing you again. It was hungry, needy, open and wet, all tongue and heat, like he had to taste you again, like the last few minutes of teasing had finally broken something in him.

You moaned against his mouth, shifting in his lap, feeling the thick, solid length of him pressing right where you needed it most. Joel hissed at the friction, his fingers tightening on your waist.  Then his hands moved, gripping your hips, holding you there as he worked open his belt, the soft clink of metal making your stomach tighten. The zipper came next, slow and deliberate, the sound loud in the thick silence between you. You watched as he freed himself, his thick cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh.

Joel’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and dangerous, his jaw tight with restraint, “Still want this baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, kissing his face, his neck, nipping and biting at his throat as his hands worked himself. You lifted yourself up to give him better access to you. “Want you so badly, Joel.”

He grunted at the sound of his name on your lips, so low and wrecked and needy for him. Reaching down, he hooked his fingers beneath the soaked fabric of your panties, dragging them to the side. His other hand gripped his cock, dragging the tip through your slick pussy, teasing, pressing just enough to make you whimper.

“Joel—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with restraint, positioning himself right at your entrance. “Go on. Take what you need.”

You didn’t hesitate, sinking down onto him slowly, gasping as he stretched you, filling you inch by inch until he was seated deep inside you.

Joel’s head fell back against the headrest, his hands flying to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there.

“Jesus fuck,” he gritted out, his thighs tensing beneath you as he held himself still. “You’re—fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so goddamn tight,"

You moaned, feeling every inch of him pulsing inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he rocked his hips up into you, and your head snapped up at the force, making you look up just in time to see a familiar face out the back window.

“Oh shit—Tommy.”

Joel’s entire body went rigid, “Please do not tell me you just—“

“No—Tommy,” you hissed, ducking down as far as you could, but it only added more friction, making Joel’s cock pulse inside you.

He grunted sharply, his fingers digging in harder to steady you, his jaw clenched like he was trying so hard not to react to the way you just squeezed around him.

Then, a truck door slammed shut.

“Hey, ain’t this Joel’s?” Tommy’s voice rang out, just outside, “Thought he left hours ago,”

Joel’s eyes snapped open, wild and alert. In an instant, his arm shot out, slamming the lock button with a sharp click.

Your heart raced, your hands scrambling to tug your shirt back over your head as Joel shifted beneath you, one hand still firm on your waist, the other reaching toward the door controls.

“Is he in there?” Tommy muttered to himself. The sound of boots crunching against gravel got closer.

Joel rolled down the window—but only a few inches, just enough for Tommy to see his face and nothing else.

Joel’s expression was thunderous. “The fuck do you want?”

Tommy’s brows raised. “Damn, hello to you too,” he muttered, squinting between the tinted glass. “I been callin’ you. You never got back to the landscaper—”

Tommy blinked. His brows lifted slightly.

“Well, hell,” he said, smirking. “That the coffee shop girl?”

You, still catching your breath, gave a little nod, “Hey Tommy,”

Tommy grinned. “Joel never shuts up about your coffee.”

Joel groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

Tommy’s smirk widened, shifting his weight onto one hip, arms crossed over his chest. “Well, you guys comin’ or what? Bout to head down to Jameson’s Bar down the street with some of the guys.”

The good thing was—from Tommy’s point of view—it probably just looked like a hot and heavy makeout session in the truck. He couldn’t see that Joel was, in fact, inside you. Your eyes flicked up to Joel’s face, still locked in frustration, his jaw clenched, his breathing ragged. And just because you could, just because you had to—you rocked your hips just a little. Joel choked on his own breath, his whole body seizing, his hands flying to your waist in warning. His eyes darted to you in a look that might kill you if you didn’t feel the betraying feeling of his cock twitch inside your cunt.

You bit your lip, eyes flicking down at Joel, voice sweet as honey, “Was just about to.”

Joel’s eyes flashed, his fingers pinching your ass hard in retaliation. You yelped, causing your body to twist up and into him, and he had to swallow his groan.

Then, suddenly, Tommy’s expression shifted.

His eyes flicked between the both of you—Joel looking wrecked, breath uneven, a little too flushed for the cool evening breeze, and you, doing your best to keep your face neutral while subtly adjusting yourself in his lap.

Tommy’s head tilted. His mouth parted.

And then, slowly, a knowing smirk crept onto his face.

“No way,” he breathed, realization dawning. “You are not—”

“Tommy—” Joel ground out, voice low and warning.

But it was too late.

Tommy burst out laughing, doubling over, hands on his knees.

Joel exhaled sharply, hands twitching on your waist, his patience hanging by a thread. “Swear to God—”

You, on the other hand, were trying very, very hard to keep a straight face.

Tommy finally straightened up, wiping at his eyes, still grinning like an idiot. “Man, you gotta be kidding me.”

“Get outta here,” Joel said between his teeth.

Tommy held his hands up in mock surrender, taking a step back from the truck. “Hey, hey, I ain’t judgin’—I just never thought I’d see the day my big brother was gettin’ it on in a goddamn parking lot like a damn teenager.”

Joel groaned, glaring daggers at him. “You done?”

Tommy smirked, but started backing toward his truck. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” He shot you a wink. “You take care now, darlin’.”

You smiled sweetly. “I will, Tommy.”

Joel huffed sharply, clearly done with this entire situation.

You kept an eye on Tommy as he finally slid into his truck, still shaking his head as he fired up the engine. Before he pulled away, he called out—

“Don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do!”

Joel slammed the window up before you could reply.

The second Tommy’s taillights disappeared down the road, Joel let out a long, deep breath, his grip on your waist still iron-tight.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You giggled, biting your lip, still settled in his lap, still pulsing around him.

Joel’s gaze snapped to you.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, voice thick, dark.

You blinked at him innocently, then, just to test him, you rolled your hips slowly, feeling his cock move deep inside you again. Both of you moaned at the feeling.

“You’re playin’ with fire, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice low, rough.

“Mmm but you love it,” you smiled.

Joel growled, his patience finally snapping. His hands tightened, yanking you down against him, grinding your soaked heat over him slow and deep.

You gasped, your fingers flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he began to set a rhythm, his hips rocking up to meet yours, filling you over and over again.

“Fuckin' hell, girl,” Joel gritted out as your forehead dropped against his, “You love this, don’t you?”

You could barely breathe, pleasure pooling low and hot, winding tight in your belly, “Y-yes, feels s–s–so good,” you gasped, rolling your hips faster, chasing the high that had been aching inside you since the moment he first touched you.

Joel’s lips crashed into yours, swallowing the moan that tore from your throat as his hips snapped up into you, deep and slow at first, like he wanted you to feel every inch of him. You whimpered, fingers fisting in the shoulders of his shirt, clinging to him as the pleasure started to coil, winding tighter and tighter with every drag of his cock inside you.

“Oh god,” you gasped, barely able to breathe, barely able to think beyond the feel of him filling you, stretching you, hitting the perfect spot over and over.

“That’s it, baby—just like that,” he murmured, his voice rough, his arms wrapping around you as he rocked up to meet you.

You moved with him, rolling your hips, your body seeking more, chasing it, the friction and heat spiraling higher, hotter, pleasure building until it felt like you were seconds from snapping.

Joel must’ve felt it, the way you were trembling, the way your body clenched tighter around him, because his grip on you tightened, guiding you faster, pushing you closer, until—

“Come on now, hunny–you all talk or you really gonna cum?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with need. “Let me have it, wanna feel you.”

And that—his words, his voice, the command in it—was what undid you.

A sharp, wrecked moan tore from your lips as the pressure snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your whole body shuddering and twitching as you clenched tight around him, pulsing, shaking, coming undone in his lap.

Joel groaned loudly, his head tipping back against the headrest, his jaw tight, his breath shattering as he thrust up into you, once, twice—

And then he followed, his grip bruising on your body as he buried himself deep, a low, guttural sound tearing from his throat as he came, spilling hot inside you, his whole body locking up before relaxing, spent, wrecked.

The truck fell into silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing, the sticky heat between you, the feel of his arms still gripping you, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Holy shit.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a huffed-out chuckle against your chest. “Yeah.”

You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you moving, just breathing each other in, the moment settling between you.

Finally, Joel ran a slow, warm hand up your spine, his voice still gravelly when he spoke.

“So.” A beat. “We ain’t goin’ to Jameson’s, huh?”

You laughed, shaking your head against his shoulder. “Not a chance.”

Joel smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

“Good.”

[sturniolosymphony]

INSOMNIA — M.S. ❀

||| “I can’t sleep, so tell me” ||| - stray kids

<> cuddling, nicknames, kissing, new (ish) relationship, texting, just a bunch of fluff

word count - 830 (kinda short sorry)

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws !!! 🤍

it was late at night, y/n was in her bed struggling to sleep. she tossed and turned before getting up and changing into something cooler, some shorts and a crop top, thinking maybe she was just too hot. she laid back down and was still restless. She got up and put her bunny slippers on and walked to the kitchen in her apartment. She lets out a long sigh as she grabs a cup from the kitchen cabinet and fills it with water before chugging it.

She started to get frustrated as she was so tired yet somehow it was impossible to even get a wink of sleep. she opens her phone and starts to scroll on instagram when all of a sudden she gets a text from her boyfriend Matt who she has been dating for 3 months or so.

Matt 💞

hi baby i saw your active on insta, what’s up?

Baby 🤍

hey, cant sleep. But i’m fine maybe i can find some melatonin gummies or something.

Matt 💞

im sorry sweet girl, wanna come over and watch a movie? i’ll pick you up too.

Baby 🤍

actually yes please, that sounds nice

Matt 💞

I’m otw hun.

Baby 🤍

Thanks baby, drive safe ily

Matt 💞

I love you too, see you soon.

*Baby 🤍 hearted a message*

Y/n sits on her couch and rubs her face, her hair in a bun and slippers on, ready to go. eventually she hears a knock at her door. Y/n opens the door and Matt immediately engulfed her into a bear hug already making her feel better. she breathed in his scent of slight wearing off cologne, and also just him. Matt rubs her back and says softly “you ready to go hm?” causing y/n to nod her head into his chest. they make their way into his car and on the drive there he keeps his hand on hers closest to him, slowly rubbing circles on the back of her palm.

They pull into the driveway of the triplets house and they both unbuckle, Matt coming around to open her door. y/n looks at him with tired eyes and he says “aw baby come here, poor girl you seem so tired.” as he picks her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck while hiding her face in the crook of his neck. They walk inside and chris is in the kitchen, drinking a Pepsi when he turns around to see y/n in matt’s arms. he says loudly, unaware of the situation, “oh hey y/n what’s up! i didn’t know you were comin’ over!” Matt immediately says “Chris shut up she’s tired” Chris slaps a hand over his mouth and says softly “sorry y/n/n” and shuffles down to his room.

Matt lays you down on the couch and takes off his jacket and throws it randomly across the room. y/n sighs softly and rubs at her eyes while Matt says “what movie, you can pick okay?” handing her the remote while looking at her with love and concern, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. y/n says “okay” leaning into Matt and shuffling through movies before putting her comfort movie on. Matt slings his arm around her and kisses her forehead lightly before whispering “i’m sorry you couldn’t sleep sweetheart, i know there isn’t much i can do but-“ y/n cuts him off while putting her hand on his chest and saying “Matt this is perfect, i needed this and it shows that you care” Matt smiles gently and says “good, because i do care. So. Much.”

Matt picks her up and lays her on top of him while he caresses her back, she nuzzles into him and her body completely softens just as his does. after about 15 minutes she starts to finally doze off to sleep, causing Matt to smile, happy he helped her. Matt kisses her hair and whispers, “i love you sweetheart, don’t forget it.” he knew that if y/n wasn’t completely out like a light she would say it back. After a while nick walks down and says “when did y/n come over?” Matt smiles and says “about an hour ago, she couldn’t sleep so i invited her over.” nick smiles while grabbing a water bottle out of the fridge and says “well it looks like she passed out” Matt chuckles lightly and says “yea once i put on this movie she was dead asleep in like 15 minutes, i guess i need to buy her a tv.” nick knowingly smiles and walks towards the end of the stairs ready to go back to bed when he says

“no Matt, she fell asleep because she is with you. she feels safe with you.”

he then walks upstairs and left Matt with a big toothy grin on his face, just thinking about what nick said. that smile stayed even when he fell asleep, with his baby in his arms, safe and sound asleep.

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