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forthelostones · 1 year ago

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let's celebrate you ─── ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ 🪩 ˚ afab!reader x sub!ellie ⋆ 🪩 ୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡

" its time i turn these lights low "

synopsis: your birthday was a special one with a different kind of treat.

warnings. 18+ (mdni); sub!ellie, loser!ellie, fingering & cunnilingus (e! receiving), dina ft, drinking, & grinding.

an: hi everyone, thanks for all the love on my other works! if u have any requests let me know! edited this on the fly >.< ; enjoy!

(no y/n)

wc: 2.2k

♪ playlist: misty ( lesly gore ), but not kiss ( faye webster ), what kinda of love ( childish gambino ), smile more ( syd ) ♪

your birthday was coming up and Dina had promised to make it a special one. you really didn’t mind having just a small dinner, and maybe a cake, but she insisted on something more. she didn’t tell you any of the details, just that you should look your best and not worry. you tended to be on the more anxious side so this was difficult. you appreciated the efforts but felt reluctant to not think of every single detail.

after getting dressed you went to Dina’s where music was already vibrating the floorboards of the front porch. upon entering you saw everyone circling the entryway and smiling as they cheered “happy birthday!” you awkwardly cuddled your arm as you silently thanked them. immediately, Dina comes to hug you tightly, you inhale the familiarity and watch everyone disperse except for one person.

“ellie. hey.” you mutter as Dina releases you from her arms.

“happy birthday, um…” she rubs the back of her neck softly.

she was wearing all black, head to toe, with the exception of a silly rainbow party hat that Dina probably put on her. when she noticed she still had it on she ripped it off quickly and fiddled with it in her hands.

“right, um, you look nice.” she smiles warmly.

“thanks els, why don’t we go and get you something to drink?”

ellie and you were in the same advanced planetary astronomy course. you spent a lot of time together studying for exams and even lab partners, but outside of that you really didn’t hang out with her. you wished you did though. during some late nights she’d reveal small parts of her life and you just wanted to put your assignments away and indulge in her.

“i don’t see how you can listen to music while doing this.” you mention.

this was a 300-level course and it wasn’t particularly easy, the readings were intense, with a lot of scientific jargon you still had to learn.

she pulls away headphones away and rolls her eyes. “i mean, it’s just a little something, my working playlist. mostly instrumental.”

that night she shared the playlist after your study session and you scrolled through her Spotify to see what other artists she listened to. just a small glimpse of her was all you really wanted.

you both mosey through a crowd of people to get to the kitchen area. everyone saying happy birthday, asking how are you, and pointing you in the direction of your gifts. meanwhile, Ellie just followed shortly behind and was very silent, giving everyone a courtesy smirk. once you reach the kitchen counter covered in various bottles, you make both you and Ellie a suspicious concoction.

“i don't know if I trust you as a mixologist.” she smiles shyly.

“what you never had tequila, rum, and a little ginger ale?”

you both laugh as your faces turn sour at the overly sharp mix.

the night continues on with Ellie by your side and you both loosen up from the continuous influx of random drinks. you talk about more than class and your horrible professors, she tells you a bit about her music taste, hobbies, and her very visible tattoos.

“i don’t think I have the pain tolerance to even sit and get something this big.” you say absentmindedly dragging the tip of your index finger along her forearm. you were slumped in the corner of the couch and she sat slouched on the arm of the sofa, just above you.

“uh, uh I mean, I— I took some medicine before and uh,” she looks down to you and once your eyes connect she looks away. “they have this cream, like numbing cream, but I didn’t need that, I just I have a high pain tolerance, I dont know, yea.”

“hmm, strong els.” your finger continues up her arm.

Ellie trembles quietly at the static shock traveling through her body. you look up to her as her eyes follow your finger tracing along her skin, she inhales deeply and lets out a shaky breath. you feel a pounding start behind your temples and you lay your head on her thigh.

“my head, ugh.”

ellie freezes at the simplest touch of you, unsure of where to put her hand she just gently lies it on your back.

“maybe we had too much of your little potion.” she jokes.

it hurts to laugh but you manage to get one out.

“ah, I think I’m gonna stay here,” you say.

“oh, yea, probably me too, I don’t think I could drive home.”

you look up to her and her face is painted pink at just the smallest connection with you. “come with me.”

you and Ellie are now in the spare bedroom just across the hall from Dina’s. you flop on the bed and pat beside you to signal Ellie to sit down.

“should I get Dina? are you okay?” She asks.

“im fine. um, I really liked my gift by the way.”

of course, she bought you a copy of her favorite comic, savage starlight, and left a sweet note inside the gift bag.

“oh, you saw it? when? we’ve been together all night.” she panicked.

“when I said I was going to the bathroom.”

you both share a soft laugh.

“i hope you like it.”

“im sure I will. thanks, els.”

her eyes are pooling brightly into yours, stealing a quick glance of your lips. you reach your hand and place it behind her neck, pulling her towards you, and sharing a kiss.

“yo-you are so welcome.”

she leans in this time nervously, awaiting another kiss. you guide her hands from the mattress to around your waist, draping your wrists around her neck, tucking her closer into you. you pull away and kiss her cheek, she giggles your lips tickle, and her smile fades and turns into a soft groan as she realizes your lips are trailing towards her neck. her grip becomes firmer around your hips and she unconsciously moves your hips towards her, back and forth. the kisses are cloud-like until you hear your name leave her lips. that’s when you slither your tongue up her neck, sucking and leaving small bite marks on the length of her throat.

once you come back to her lips, she doesn’t hold back and goes in with her tongue. in between each kiss she tugs at you harder, gets more excited each pass while grunting passionately. your hand grips her leg firmly and drapes it over your lap, where she doesn’t hesitate to start bucking her hips against you. she bites your bottom lip to catch her breath and rubs her nose against yours before going into leaving hickeys on your neck. she’s so desperate that you feel how wet your neck has become from her urgency. you bring your hands down from her lower back to cup her ass as she’s taking in your sweet scent.

“i need you.” she whispers.

she doesn’t hesitate to pull her top off and before she can remove her bra you stop her. she smiles at you as you remind her to pace herself. you press your lips against her warm skin trailing to her chest, being careful to not satisfy her so fast. once she’s calmed down you remove her bra and just allow yourself to stare at her perky nipples. she’s now grinding against you slowly in a rhythm. you take your lips and brush them lightly against both of her nipples. you saw her chest rise and fall deeply, overcome with desire.

you take her lingering hands and press them behind her back, restraining her movements. with your free hand, you place the center of your cold palm against her erect nipple. a gasp catches in her throat at the smallest contact as she tosses her head back. you press up against her body as she fights against your restraint. she leans down to kiss you, but you don’t allow her to. out of frustration, she bites her lips watching your hand move up and down.

her nipples became puffy from your torture and you finally gave her the satisfaction of wrapping your lips around them. she tried to stifle her moans, shying away, turning her face away from yours, simply embarrassed. once you wet her nipples you sucked them allowing your tongue to brush up against her sensitive buds.

you turned her over from your lap to where both your pelvis’ were level. she tried to feel you as she spread her legs wider but couldn’t because of her jeans. her face scrunched up as she watched you grind up against her just before you trailed kisses down her belly to her waistline. you stopped before her hipbones that were beckoning you to kiss them, which she shuttered at. as you pulled her pants off, she covered her face with her inked forearm.

“els.”

“uhmm yea?”

“i need you to watch me.”

“o-ohkay.”

she removes her arm reluctantly and watches as you press your lips into her inner thigh, still holding eye contact. her hand comes to caress your cheek in an attempt to rush you, but you pay her no mind. you bring your mouth to just rest against her clothed clit and she shutters.

“ah.” escapes her lips.

her hips start to rise against your lips pressed into her core. her left hand comes to the top of your head as she grinds harder, she whimpers at the lack of satisfaction.

“please. fuck.”

that's when she ignores you and arches her back farther, slipping her hands into her boxes and begins to massage her clit. her free hand grips the sheets and the sounds of her wetness fill your ears like sweet music.

“ellie?” you ask, taken aback.

“yes, y-ees?”

she doesn’t stop until you physically remove her fingers, you grip her wrist and bring her fingers to her lips. she sucks the taste of herself clean off and you finally slip your hand past her waistband. her hands come up to your biceps, digging into your skin while you toil her wet clit.

“harder.” she demands, but you pull your hand away, causing her body to jerk violently.

she takes your wrist and guides your fingers up and down her clit. she huffs, with her eyes closed, soaking in the pleasure. At one point she just starts grinding on all four of your fingers. legs spread open, lifting her hips up rhythmically, panting and sweating as she humped your hand.

just before she came you pulled down her boxers and drank in her red, soaked pussy. the cold air made her twitch under you as you brought your lips to her folds. you were swimming in her warmth as you pecked her opening gently. she moaned at the view of you making out with her pussy, eyes closed, tongue slipping in occasionally, and sipping her up. you did everything in your power to avoid her throbbing clit as you tongued her soaked hole.

once you finally wrapped your lips around her clit closed her eyes, basking in the relief she felt. as you inhale her legs come closing in on your face, shaking.

“ellie,” you look up. “relax, im going to let you cum.”

as she releases the tension from her body your two fingers enter her. she tosses her head to the side at the pressure inside of her, her breathing becoming unstable again. you find her clit in your mouth again and now she’s panting obscenities under her breath.

“fuck, fuck, ahh, so good. please.”

mindlessly she just kept moaning like this, throwing your name in the mix too.

“another,” she said breathlessly. “three, I need another finger, ple-please.”

she watched you, face wet, eyes drunk from her body, as you slipped in your ring finger, stretching her further. you couldn’t help but stare at her pussy wrapped so tightly but perfectly around your fingers. instead of sliding in and out, you just curled your fingers towards her g-spot, causing tears to pool in the corners of her eyes.

your tongue flicks her clit harder as you pick up stamina inside of her, she was paralyzed with pleasure, stiffened by her orgasm. once she came over the edge, you kept going, harder, faster, quicker, and her body attempted to fold but you did not falter. with all her strength she uses her hands to lift your head, but her body is weakened.

you pull your fingers out, causing a pop and she lays, eyes wide looking at the mess you made. she just lies breathless and as you crawl up to kiss her, you pat her dampened cunt causing her to yelp before her lips met yours.

#ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x you #ellie smut #sub ellie williams #loser ellie #x reader smut #kinktober #ellie x reader #the last of us part two #wlw ns/fw #tlou2 ellie

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yannaryartside · 5 months ago

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This is still all about Donna

The cyclical aspect of abuse ft Chef David

So, I wanted to add to the discussion why Carmy pursued the star so intensely, to the point of inflicting self-punishment and isolation. Why would he focus his whole identity on the evil chef after all those other beautiful experiences he also got to live?

I am going to talk on broad terms because I don’t have any studies in psychology, so you can take it all with a grain of salt; I am talking just from personal experience/instrospection. I am also not saying this applies to all victims of abuse or all types of abuse. I am talking mainly about domestic/psychological abuse.

WHY IT ALL STARTED

On the opening night, a particular set of chemicals created an explosion in Carmy's mind. He saw a man who resembled the chef who tortured him psychologically and abused him. So he goes back and starts a fight with Syd. She calms him down, but he feels lost and needs a pause, so he goes to the freezer but finds himself trapped. Then, the turmoil of flashbacks comes in of Donna and Chef David, while he thinks he failed his team and confirms the belief that he is indeed worthless, no good, and a waste of space. Donna installed this belief in Carmy, and Chef David revived it.

So he blames Claire, a relationship that (regardless of not being particularly deep or healthy) was bringing him happiness, and he decides to commit to the lie that he needs to sacrifice things that make him happy to be good (chef). At this point, Carmy has equated his worth as a human with his ability to produce a certain quality of work as a chef.

THE CYCLE

Maybe the most vile thing about abuse is its cyclical nature. If you have been abused, particularly since childhood, even if you manage to leave the environment where the abuse took place, there is a high chance you will end up in another abusive relationship/situation.

Abuse breaks your perception of self and the world around you; because of that, every relationship you have, or situation you establish will be defined by that broken perception.

Carmy grew up in an abusive household, believing there was something wrong with him that made his mother reject him and prefer his older brother. From what we can gather, none of Carmy's interests and personality traits were appreciated or encouraged in that house (besides cooking), so he was a child "terrified of speaking." He didn't have friends who could help him understand or accept himself; he missed that in very formative years. Michael (the brother he compared himself to) ended up being the real parental figure in his life (Michael divides himself between teasing him and encouraging him).

Carmy learns to love cooking because of his connection with Michael. Then Michael makes him feel rejected by casting him out. Carmy goes abroad and has really amazing experiences that allow him to know and accept himself. He gets to feel like a child again, finding and cultivating the things that he loves.

Then he finds a chef boss who is also abusive. Donna comes to life in the face of Chef David, and Carmy (who has become almost the best at this point and could have just left this place) accepts the abuse because he is afraid that both Donna and David are right, that there is something fundamentally wrong with him no matter how hard he tries.

So he goes into this season in freeze response, screaming at others because he can hear the evil chef in his head telling him how much of a waste of space he is; he needs to fight it, so he screams at everyone to have the same standard he has to obey or get killed. He is acting entirely out of fear that they are going to get him killed because they are “not perfect” or “too slow.” Because he can still feel the threat of the ghost of Chef David saying horrible things to him as he cooks. This is about self-preservation.

Also, isolation is a form of self-punishment, and he believes he needs to resolve this on his own.

THE CLAIRE PART-SELF PUNISHMENT

He tells himself that he cannot be with Claire because that is who he is and that he doesn't deserve such a good thing if it endangers the only thing that brings him value, cooking. He doesn't deserve this love that, for the first time, doesn't seem to require a big amount of sacrifice on his part. He spent most of the season reminiscent of that affection. He said she brought her peace, but I think he just meant she didn't feel worthless for once. It looks like not having girlfriends or friends (lack of meaningful connections that accept him for who he is) is a big source of insecurity for him.

The relationship was empty and superficial but was the best he had ever felt; Claire made him feel like there was nothing wrong with him, (to the point of being an enabler, yes), but it was still better for him than feeling rejected most of his life.

His most significant relationships (Mickey and Donna and sometimes Nat and Richie) were based on a push-and-pull mechanic that created an emotional distance, and he has spent most of his life trying to earn his mother's love, while he felt he didn't have to make an effort to earn Claire's love, even the most basic emotional responsibility (never apologize). The show even showed you that the relationship between Claire and Carmel would have happened if she hadn't done most of the work, emotional or otherwise.

Case in point: Sydney, a person with whom he has a lot in common, an unspoken telepathy, and a bond that can get him out of panic attacks (his previous unhealthy beliefs), is the person with whom he has the most trouble establishing a relationship because of the plot (based on his mental health), even after three seasons.

That was a lot, thank you for reading.

#the chef david stare still gives nightmares #the bear #sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #the bear fx #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #the bear meta #carmy x sydney #sydney x carmy #anti claire bear

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almostempty · 4 hours ago

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Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 | Other fics | Rating: 18+

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and Part 2 a read for a refresh <3

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual.

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice.

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him.

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist.

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text?

No. No, no, no.

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right?

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway.

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you.

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it.

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face.

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down.

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug.

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.”

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her.

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up.

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking.

“What did he say?”

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately.

“Who?”

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety.

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks.

“Oh, you meant Joel?”

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought.

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh.

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it.

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason.

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?”

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it.

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust.

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out.

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.”

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up.

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—”

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.”

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask.

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod.

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo.

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late.

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him.

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world.

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers.

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat.

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn.

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you.

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench.

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp.

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.”

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work.

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie.

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man.

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong.

Except for, well, everything.

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day?

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem.

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening.

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again?

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later.

Joel: More

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise.

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line.

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative.

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day.

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide.

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.”

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason.

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store—

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply.

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly.

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that.

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.”

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone.

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.”

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door.

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone.

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you.

“Jesus,” he grumbles.

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh.

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies.

“Yep.”

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

……..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name.

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes cousin’ trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once.

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work.

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?”

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.”

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far.

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now.

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently.

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations.

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you.

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head.

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together.

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you.

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out.

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want.

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine.

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt.

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic?

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.”

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening.

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain.

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted.

“How did you know?”

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.”

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?”

“Don’t.”

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket.

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering.

You: You been thinking about me?

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed.

Joel: Maybe

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already?

Joel: Have you?

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous?

You: A little

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment.

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond.

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away

That has you shaking your head.

You: Patience is a virtue

He’s quick to respond again.

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man

That makes you genuinely laugh.

You: Good

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting.

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous.

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery.

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath.

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good.

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly.

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam.

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him.

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon.

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan.

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore.

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?”

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms!

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you.

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable.

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace.

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers!

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research.

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback.

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it.

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night.

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips.

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that.

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts.

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should.

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself.

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists.

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably.

“They have food, too.” you counter.

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head.

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it.

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.”

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it.

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions.

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening.

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up.

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?”

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.”

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.”

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first.

“Relax,” you purr.

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax.

“Do you have cash?” you ask.

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused.

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows.

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’.

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter.

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same.

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts.

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize.

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts.

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick.

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold.

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles.

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach.

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush.

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?”

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul.

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous.

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid.

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp?

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper—”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties.

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.”

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off.

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up.

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue.

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date.

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right?

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you.

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking.

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.”

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.”

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head.

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.”

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild.

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him.

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you.

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.”

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control.

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back.

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow.

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly.

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?”

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.”

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.”

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams.

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

Tags:

@pedroswife69

@jasminedragoon

@lilac-boo

@peekyourinterest

@evysian

@millersamour

@evolnoomym

@ladybeediva

@hoelaris

@gwendibleywrites

@xdaddysprincessxx

@bitchesuntitled

@thundermartini

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@indiegirlunited

@yopossum

@sunshinehaze1

@moel-jiller

@pedrito-is-punk

@baebee35

@blacktoptown

@deliciouslydisturbed35

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General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy

@indiegirlunited

@syd-djarin

@harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist

@94namkooksworld

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #divorced dad rock dilf joel #creed!joel #pedro pascal character fanfic

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downins · 27 days ago

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✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮yeji dating an engineer student✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ (college!au)

a/n: yall i have the fattest fucking crush on yeji atm this is crazy ngl like how is she so GORGEOUS and TALENTED?? i'm so gay for her help

non-idol!yeji x engineer!fem!reader

warning(s): suggestive (sort of?),some swearing, mostly fluff, yeji being the best gf ever

listen to : "shibuya, free nationals ft. syd"

how you meet:

you and your dormmate, lia have been friends for what feels like forever and you always see her hang around a group of girls and one girl caught your attention, which is hwang yeji <3

you were more of an introvert and lia always encouraged you to socialise more so you'd feel less lonely. you constantly protested and told her that you prefer being alone and having a small circle

so of course lia being the most amazing best friend that she is, invited you to her friendgroup by frequently asking you to join them

they were really sweet and welcoming which allowed you to be more comfortable. they're really affectionate towards you and ensure you never feel left out during hangouts

how she fell for you:

ever since you started spending time with the girls more, yeji started learning more and more about you

she sees the way you care for her and the rest, for instance, you always lend your jackets to any of them when they need it, you checking up on them in the groupchat and how you're always there to assist them on their assignments

she has always perceived you as a cold, anti-social person but then her perspective changed after knowing you more which led her to slowly develop feelings for you

the incident that really made her fall for you even harder was when the rest of the girls were dead asleep after 4 hours of group studying and yeji was still struggling to understand a certain topic, you didn't hesitate to scooch beside her and rubbed her back, calming her down

"hey it's really alright, this happens to everybody all the time, this doesn't mean you're not smart, here i'll teach you slowly just let me know if i'm moving too fast okay?"

"promise me you won't laugh at me if i asked multiple stupid questions"

"no question is stupid yeji trust me" you smiled at her and gave her a side hug

she loves likes how supportive you are and ever since then you have been her ray of sunshine

dating her:

trust me when i say this girl is always admiring you whenever you're studying or working on your little robots, like you're there getting electrocuted for the 10th time and she's still in awe of you

you coding out a special website for her so she can click it whenever she feels demotivated or when she misses you :(

you also built a tiny robot that accompanies her whenever she's studying or just relaxing in her dorm, she talks to it a lot and plays little games with it

to you, these may seem as if they're small gestures but she literally sobs when she receives your little robots specifically made for her

since the girls hang around you and lia's dorm a lot, she gets to see you in your nerdiest state like i'm talking the LED magnifying glasses, holding calculations papers and blueprints. she loves it SO MUCH

sometimes it's just you and her in your room so you're comfortable enough to just work in your sports bra and sweatpants and you end up doing her instead of your assignments. she gets to see your veiny hands and arms and she traces them when she's trying to get your attention

complimenting you on how hot you look when you work like that and you teasing her "sooo i can walk around like this when it's just me and lia?" "NO absolutely NOT"

her jealous ass HATES it when girls purposely ask you for "help" during classes or lunch breaks like there was once where a girl in your class purposely "dropped and disconnected" her airpods just so she can be close to you and yeji literally stood up with a disgusted look on her face saying "google and safari exists you know, she's trying to focus on her work"

she was so proud when the girl walked away shamefully. you chuckling and giving her a quick peck on the lips. "baby you don't have to be jealous i promise, i'll only ever have eyes for you" she melts everytime you reassure her like that

she loves sitting on your lap whenever you're studying or having group discussions with your teammates. you have your arm wrapped around her waist while she's scrolling on her phone and occasionally giving you kisses

she gets needy sometimes so when your discussions or study session start to feel like it's never ending, she'd turn towards you and start kissing your jaw all the way down to your collarbone, teasing you

there was one time when you were explaining about your presentation to your friends and she used her fingers to make your face turn to her and kissed you all of a sudden causing you to moan a little

"y/n.. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT??"

"NOTHING NO NO SORRY I HIT MY ARM"

"GIRL STOP LYING YALL GETTING FREAKY THERE LETS JUST CONTINUE THIS TOMORROW"

yeji laughed and ran her hand through your hair while you whined about the incident

"aww i'm sorry baby, i'll make it up to you okay?" she kissed you again

#itzy #itzy headcanons #itzy imagines #itzy x femreader #itzy collegeau #yeji #hwang yeji #yeji x reader #yeji x fem!reader #yeji headcanons #yeji imagines

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monay-monn · 9 months ago

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Pc shitpost ft. p!syd and mammon

#degrees of lewdity #dol #dol pc #sydney the faithful #dol sydney #mammon the false prophet #monay the false saintess

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lunarrbxnshee · 1 year ago

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Lux didn’t bother to suppress the groan that came from her lips as the other spoke. “Unfortunately, this place has some of the best coffee in town.” She replied, shooting the other a glare. “Part of me was secretly hoping you’d be out. Though I guess it isn’t a secret anymore.”

closed starter for @lunarrbxnshee ( syd & lux ! )

Syd smirked slightly as the other entered the coffee shop, arching an eyebrow at the other. "Jaeger," She drawled, leaning across the counter with a smile. "What brings you to my establishment?"

#c: lavender jaeger #t: lux #lux ft: syd

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inxthexshadowxofxdeath · 8 months ago

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𝐿𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝐼𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝒾𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒰𝓈 | A Seiji Playlist @oxtofmydcpth

SZA - The Weekend | You say you got a girl... Yeah, how you want me? How you want me when you got a 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵?... The feelin' is 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼... Of knowin' it's 𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯𝓲𝓼𝓱... And knowin' I'm 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮... Gettin' all in your love... Fallin' all over love, like... Do it 'til it hurts less...

Raveena - Headaches | Don't play with my ♥︎, I'm... Tryna be smart, but... I can't control this, 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓷... I'm dizzy with headaches... I need a medic... Can you stay still while I'm like 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼..?

Kali Uchis - Killer | Forever is for 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓼 (for dreamers)... And it's foolish to not know you're a schemer... And if you loved me, you would 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 do this... Our future's battered and bloody, you're so 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 ruthless...

Beyonce - Don't Hurt Yourself | Who the 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴 do you think I am?... You ain't married to no average 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱, boy... You can watch my fat ass twist, boy... As I bounce to the next dick, boy... And keep your 𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂, I got my own... Keep a bigger smile on my face being 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮...

SZA - I Hate U | And if you wondered if I hate you (𝓘 𝓭𝓸)... Shitty of you to make me feel just like this... What I would do to make you feel just like this... And if you wondered if I hate you (𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾)...

Beyonce - Love Drought | Nine times out of ten, I'm in my feelings... But ten times out of nine, I'm only 𝓱𝓾𝓶𝓪𝓷... Tell me, what did I do wrong?... Feel like that question has been posed... I'm movin' on... I'll always be committed, I been focused... I always paid attention, been devoted... Tell me, 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓘 𝓭𝓸 𝔀𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓰?... Oh, already asked that, 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓭...

Sinead Harnett - If You Let Me ft. GRADES | I'll love you like I've never, 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 loved somebody... I'll give you things you didn't even know you wanted... Don't tell me that it's not enough... My time is up, you're over us... 'Cause I think I might do anything for you... If you just 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 (yeah)...

Janet Jackson - I Get Lonely | I still remember to the day... In fact is was a third Monday... You came along to be the 𝓸𝓷𝓮 for me... And now I'm so all 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮... I'm sittin' here by the phone... Call and say that your okay... So that I have the chance to beg you to 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂...

Teyana Taylor - Issues/Hold On | Can't hide behind the carats on a ♦ ring... I don't even care if you 𝓵𝓲𝓮 to me... Don't give me no reason to go through your phone... This is deeper than you and other women... This is daddy issues... So hold on, hold on, 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓰𝓸...

#confessions of a teenage drama queen [ syd | musings ]#ft. Eiji #huntsvilletask #huntsvilletask04

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mothinabottle · 5 months ago

Note

If Jordan were to have a TF, what TF do you think they'd have?

Mouse TF for sure... (ft. Young Jordan)

Not only because they would prefer to be a mouse, but also because mice are used on various experiments for the betterment of humankind.

Let me explain,

Jordan is basically what keeps the town in DoL from falling into complete depravity (Syd, too, but wayyy less), that is, their innocence and devotion to the temple are what's important of them.

But what keeps that innocence and devotion? What kind of path had they had to walk so they would end up as the core of the temple?

They are known to take a medicine specifically provided by the temple so they won't have nightmares. They are unable to go against the temple's wishes even if they really want to sometimes. That all sounds so suspicious.

Just like Sydney, it's as if they are in a cage of their own. But while Syd still has a way out (thx PC), Jordan is way more isolated. (Though it is also because they chose that. But was that influenced in some way?)

Just like mice with medicine, Jordan's sacrifices are what helps both the temple and the town to advance. And without them, the temple would be mostly lost, just like the town itself.

#dol #degrees of lewdity #dol jordan #jordan the pious #moth art #moth ask #my horniness has faded #now I have the big sad #😭#i dont even know if I made sense #like I am trying to explain but my english sucks #also I am sleep deprived #thats why I answered at this hour

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katelynnwrites · 4 months ago

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spanish lesson with bibi, ft. syd, laura and klara

#sydney lohmann #klara bühl #laura freigang #bibiane schulze solano #lea schüller #dfb frauen #gerwnt #woso #woso community #paris olympics 2024

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liyawritesss · 2 years ago

Text

ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ

Characters: MCU!Riri Williams x Shy!Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 5.3k

Synopsis: You’ve always been the type to let your mind run frantic. But when a certain girl asks you out for a day on the town, you find yourself slowing down and taking in the beauty of living in the moment.

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use (cannabis), one of reader’s exes was a guy

A/N: Just something cute inspired by the song “Slow Down” by Skip Marley and H.E.R. It’s been stuck in my head for the longest and the music video just SCREAMS Riri so I had to do a lil sumn sumn for my girlfriend. Hope yall enjoy! Suggested songs to listen to when reading: “Slow Down” by Skip Marley ft. H.E.R., “Right Track” by Syd ft. Smino, “oui” by Jeremih.

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @badass-dora-milaje @babyboiboyega @verachii @heartsforjojo @letitias-fav @kingstormpostsshit @shurismainbxtch @zayswriting @rxcently @nzia-writes @writingintheshadowsforever @hufflehans @kokichiis7 @xxmilli @typicalme13 @zestgodtj @generallysapphic @ziayamikaelson @shuriszn @percsane @justariellove @n7cje @mbakuetshurisprincess

You knew you would regret coming to this party.

This kind of scene was never your cup of tea. You weren’t a fan of dancing, or loud music, or getting so drunk that the only thing on your mind was finding someone to grind with on the dance floor. You’d barely drunk the heavily diluted liquor in your red solo cup, finding the watered down burn of the beverage displeasing to your throat. The dim green lights that danced across the numerous bodies on the dance floor did you more of a favor by obscuring your position against the wall, as you didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone. You were comfortable against the wall, away from sweaty bodies and the heavy stench of alcohol and the mingling perfumes, colongues and pheromones that danced in the air.

You were here for a friend, but as you watched them get swept away by another party goer to continue their more than inappropriate grinding in secret, you were left virtually alone, made to endure the loud, bass-heavy music and overwhelming amount of people by yourself.

You ran a hand through your faux locs, some of them adorned with gold ornaments, brushing the long locks of hair to rest over your left shoulder, leaving the right one bare and shining underneath the green lighting. Your outfit wasn’t extravagant or eye catching, as you didn't want to be quite noticeable at this sort of engagement. A simple black crop top covers your chest and ends just under your rib cage, and just under your belly button is the elastic band of your leggings, which are black as well. An oversized white sweater rests around your frame, much of the material bunched up on your arms with your hands barely peeking out of the sleeves, and matching white Air Force One’s decorate your feet. The hands that hold your red solo cup are adorned with a variety of silver rings, your nails a simple coffin shaped, matte brown color, and on your neck rests a stainless steel chain that could be mistaken for that of a cuban link chain at first glance.

You’d seemingly done everything in your power to concoct an outfit that would not get you noticed, but there’s a pair of eyes from across the room that challenges that theory. And it's in one of your scans of the room that you make contact with those eyes, and for a moment, your breath stills as you realize that this person is staring right at you. They’re staring right at you, and it looks like they have been for a while.

She’s standing on the opposite end of the room, and you can just barely see her as she stands on some elevated part of the floor, her body visible from the torso up, the rest being obscured by the many dancing bodies. She, too, has a red solo cup in hand, and she’s holding her firm gaze while she takes a sip from it. Her hair is done in neat cornrows, a few of them laying over her shoulders. She has on a white cropped tank that fits tight on her chest, and from what you can tell through the dancing heads that hide the rest of her body, blue ripped jeans that are high waisted and fit her curves just right.

She was very pretty, you had to admit, but the thought of her eyes finding you of all people is what caused your mind to start racing. Did she know you? Did you know her? Did she know your friend, and in extension, you? You cast your eyes aside as your mind began to come up with so many different questions and rationalizations to explain why she could have been eying you down, how long had she been doing so. You’d gotten so caught up in your head that you hadn’t noticed that the girl from across the room disappeared from her spot on the adjacent wall. Instead, she was coming to take up a spot next to you.

Out of your peripheral vision, you watch her walk towards you. It’s not a pace out of haste, but not one of caution either. She seems skillful in her approach, as if she had done the same many times before. It has you questioning the exclusivity of the occurrence, but seeing as you don’t know much about her, other than the fact that she’s extremely attractive and seems to have taken some sort of interest in you, you decide to push that thought into the back of your mind. You watch carefully as as she comes closer to you, eventually stopping next to you, and the sheepish grin that graces her lips makes your breath hitch in the slightest.

“Hey,” she says, just loud enough for you to hear her above the thundering music, “you looked lonely over here. Want some company?”

Perhaps there was a time a few moments ago when you would have rather been left alone, but now that she’s right in front of you, the resolve to say ‘no’ gets caught in your throat. Instead, you allow her to make herself comfortable next to you on the wall, and she’s so close that you can feel the heat of her caramel-toned skin against your own. There’s a sense of bashfulness building up in your body that you can’t push down, no matter how hard you try to remain calm and collected with this beauty that stands next to you.

“There a reason why you holdin’ up the wall?” She questions, and you realize that fuck, she’s talking to you, and you have to answer her in a normal tone, and not the high-pitched, childlike one that normally comes out when your shyness taks over.

“Just not used to this whole thing,” you admit, taking while releasing the breath you had been holding, “I was originally here with a friend, but they, um…went somewhere else.”

The mystery-pretty-girl catches on quickly to what you’re insinuating, her head bobbing up and down with a nod of understanding. “Well, that ain’t no good friend. No dick is worth leavin’ yo homegirl out to dry like that.”

She’s right, and you know she is, but you still find a way to rationalize your friend’s behavior, “Could be worse. They could’ve left completely and left me here.”

“Can’t imagine why anyone would leave someone as cute as you alone,” and for the third time tonight, you feel your breath get caught in your throat, and for the first time, there’s an intense heat that’s creeping up your neck and flooding your face. The dim lighting and the depths of your melanated skin are a blessing, because you’re sure that without either, you’d be as bright as a strawberry. The suddenness of her flirtation brings from you a sheepish chuckle, and despite the current setting, it’s almost as if the world is beginning to fade away, slowly but surely, the more that this myster-pretty-girl is in your presence.

For a moment, the mystery-pretty-girl pauses in thought. She brings her bottom lip between her teeth for a split second, before letting it go, and instead raising her free hand to yours. “Name’s Riri.” She introduces, and you take her hand hesitantly. They’re the same size, not counting the additional centimeters added on by your acrylics, and they’re soft with a gentle scent of shea butter on them.

“(Y/N).” You reply, and it causes Riri to smile again.

“Pretty girl with a pretty name. That checks out, I guess.” She says, and you find yourself giggling again, abashed.

“You say this ain’t your scene?” Riri questions.

You nod in response, your finger tapping against the red solo cup in an attempt to ground yourself as you’re being forced to hold Riri’s intense eye contact.

“No. I came as a favor,” you clarify, “I’d rather be at home. In my bed. Reading or watching TV. But I owed my friend a favor, so here I am.”

“Yeah, and they ain’t,” Riri reiterates, “but I am. I’on know about your friend, but I ain’t gon’ let nothin’ happen to you, ma,” and it’s when she calls you that very dangerous pet name that you feel an insatiable pool of butterflies begin to violently flutter in your stomach. Riri is making it hard to stay calm and collected, and even hard to keep down the smile that is so insistent on making a home on your lips.

“That’s very sweet of you,” you commend, and it is, but you believe that there’s a hidden agenda behind those sweet words. You were no stranger to flirting, despite not having been flirted with yourself or you flirt with anyone, but you know when someone is applying pressure. And Riri was doing just that, leaving your question to be ‘why?’

“So you were so worried about my safety that you were staring at me for a good minute across the room?” You question the other, a sudden sense of confidence surging through your veins. Maybe it’s the heavily diluted alcohol finally catching up to you, or maybe it’s because you find your body relaxing in the presence of Riri. “So worried that you came up to talk to me?”

“Damn, you makin’ it seem like I’m a creep or somethin,” Riri laughs, and it’s such a sweet sound that fills the air around you, drowning out loud music, “I just thought you were cute. Wanted to shoot my shot.”

Oh.

You didn’t expect that. Neither the confession, nor the bluntness of it. It causes the same raging heat from before to make its way back to your face, burning your ears and making your breath hitch. It’s futile to even try to come up with a witty retort, because the moment you open your mouth, you begin to stutter out incoherent noises. Your bashful nature causes Riri to laugh, this time it's a bit louder, even drawing the attention of some nearby partygoers. You try to shield yourself by raising the red solo cup to your lips, reluctantly downing a gulp of the watery alcohol and letting the dull sting of it trickle down your throat as a wake-up call to what was happening.

“Okay, that was funny-”

“It definitely was not-”

“-and cute as hell-”

“-also definitely was not-”

Your little back and forward ceases when Riri brings her red solo cup to her own lips, downing a gulp, and once she’s done, the faint smell of something fruity wafts through the air. It smells way better than the diluted dark liquor you acquired hours ago, and you wonder if it tastes any better. You find yourself looking at Riri’s lips as you think this, which she takes every opportunity to point out.

“You ain’t gotta be shy about kissing me,” the brown-haired girl said, and her lips curled into this shit eating grin as she watched you realize that she picked up on where your eyes were. You were sure that she was also catching on to your timid nature and just the right buttons to push to turn you into a spluttering mess. And you couldn’t tell if you despised just how easy she was able to read you, or if you were enjoying that she was learning you.

“That is the last thing I want to do right now.” You retort, a slight tone of amusement in your voice. It was a slight fib. Her lips did look very kissable right now, but you were not about to give in to her temptation.

“Okay, fair. You’re a ‘kiss after the first date’ type of girl. I can get with that.”

“You’re really laying it down, aren’t you?”

“What can I say? When I see what I like, I apply the pressure accordingly.”

And the proof was in the way she had you pressed against the wall, her arm propped to the side of your head, holding her at just the perfect distance from your face, one that made you want to close the gap, but refuse to be the first to do so.

“And do you say that to all girls you come across at parties like this?” You respond, biting your lip in curiosity. There was absolutely no way that someone like her was so smooth with words just on the first go. Riri had to have spoken like this to other girls, otherwise, how could she have learned this so easily?

“Nope,” Riri answers, which causes you to frown slightly, “cuz ain’t no girl got me so sprung I went up to them to shoot my shot.”

“I don’t think I believe that,” you retorted, a bit of sass in your voice.

“Aight, then, lemme take you out,” Riri proposes, “and I’ll show you better than what I can tell you.”

You weren’t sure where your friend was now, and you would feel bad about not caring in the morning. Right now, the world of the party you were at had just died around you, and in its place, the mystical that was Riri Williams took its place.

You were starting to regret agreeing to this date with Riri Williams.

You'd been waiting inside the train terminal for thirty minutes passed the original meet up time. At 10 minutes, you chalked it up to the shitty transportation that was the Chicago Transit Authority. The trains never ran on time these days, and when they did, there were always unnecessary pauses for CTA police personnel to have their German shepherds sniff in each car to catch an unsuspecting dealer switching through cars with their signature chants. At 20 minutes, you checked your phone for any response to your messages, and you were becoming less and less shocked that the messages would have 'ready displayed underneath them, or an appearance of the three dots signifying she was typing, but a response never came in. It was now at the 30 minute mark, and you were beginning to think the worst.

Was this a joke? Some inhumane prank she thought was funny to play? A huff leaves your lips, the puff of air blowing away your faux loc from in front of your eyes to the side of your face. You could feel yourself getting emotional from the thought of being stood up. You were no stranger to the feeling of rejection, it was an emotion you had become quite familiar with in high school, but you’d allowed yourself to give Riri Williams, some random girl from South Shore, a chance to woo you because you thought you felt something when she spoke those words to you at that party last night. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, you rationalize. Perhaps it was being under the influence that provoked the other girl to strike up a conversation with you, to speak smooth words and sweet nothings in your words over the loud bass of the music that still left rhythm in your veins, even after a good night’s rest.

You checked your phone once again - still radio-silence from the other woman’s end. You closed your eyes, heaving another sigh of defeat.

The sound of rushing commuters echoed throughout the terminal hall, people brushing by, exiting and entering the toll thresholds as they paid their fare in a rush for the train. The loud footsteps and voices clouded your thoughts, you didn’t even hear Riri approaching. It was her touch that brought you back to reality - it shocked you a bit, given the current place you were standing, one just doesn’t touch someone on the CTA without announcing their presence first.

“Yo, hey, chill, it’s just me!” Riri rushes out as you come down from preparing your defenses when you realize who had come up to you. While you returned to your dormant position, your face still held disappointment, and Riri caught on to it instantly.

“I’m sorry I’m late, the trains have been shit today,” she says, “and then the bus to even get to the 79th train station was delayed.”

You were, at the most, glad it was nothing too serious, but your face was still in a frown. “You could have texted me back, you know,” you respond, “it’s not good date etiquette to leave the girl you asked out on read. Have her thinkin’ you stood her up ‘nd shit.”

“I know. That’s my fault, that’s all on me,” Riri owns, and it’s here that you’re able to finally take in her appearance. She’s got on this oversized sweatshirt that’s a pretty forest green color that compliments her skin. It’s paired with a pair of baggy blue jeans with various rips in the fabric, and a pair of green kicks to match. A gold chain rests on her chest, drawing the outfit together. It’s simple, but on her, she makes it look like it’s a part of some fashion designer's latest collection.

The heat that rushes up your body makes your own sweater seemingly unbearable. If your skin tone had been anywhere near the cream color of your sweater, your shyness would have been given away instantly. It seems you aren’t the only one who has taken the time to admire your shared choice of clothing, as Riri steals a once-over of your attire, stopping briefly at the rips in the jeans on your thighs, revealing the plush skin, and smile.

“You look cute,” she compliments.

You swallow the squeal that begs to leave your throat, “s-so do you.”

“Look at us, already cute together.” Riri hums, and the shiver that makes its way up your spine is unavoidable, because her subtle insinuation and the tone of her voice has you thinking about how the date would end before it could even begin.

Riri takes your hand into hers and leads you up the stairs and out of the train terminal, the crisp spring air revitalizing your lungs from the stuffy stench of trash and filth that clings to the underground terminal. You notice a few notable stores the minute the two of you break view - the gothic Target that’s directly to your right with two floors ready to be explored, the Jacks off 5th that’s across the street, the Zumiez that is also across the street and a little ways behind you, and a Foot Locker next to the Jacks.

You were no stranger to these stores, having eyed them every time you’d come downtown with your friends just to walk around and window shop. You were broke highschool kids, who’s only fun was walking aimlessly along State Street, eying the window displays and imagining yourself having the money to buy the things you wanted. You would’ve been happy window shopping like all the times before, but it seems that Riri has other plans.

“I’on know about you,” she begins, as the two of you cross the ever-busy street, “but I need me a new pair of shoes. So first stop is Foot Locker.”

You barely get a chance to resist, because before you know if, you’re in the store, and the associates greet Riri as if she’s a regular. You stiffen a little, your hold on her hand tightening at the new environment you found yourself in.

“Hey, you alright?” Riri whispers as she drags you along with her to one of the wall displays, thankfully one that seems to be isolated.

“Yeah,” you fib, biting your lip, “I mean - I don’t exactly have Foot Locker money, but-” yet the moment you see the look on Riri’s face, your words trail off, and the feeling of embarrassment begins to fill you.

“If I remember correctly, I was the one taking you out, right?” Riri asks.

“Yeah, but-”

“-and if I asked you out, what kind of date would I be if I let you spend your own money?”

“Riri,” you whisper-yell, her words beginning to hit you, “you are not spending hundreds of dollars on me for a pair of shoes!”

“What was that?” The other woman hummed in response, feigning cluelessness, furthering your frustration, “You said this pair of shoes is cute?”

She picks up a pair of black high-tops, one that has a big white tag on it that reads two hundred-fifty dollars, and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. “I swear to god, Riri-”

“-y’know, these do look nice as hell,” she comments, completely ignoring you at this point, and there’s a whine that’s pushing against your throat, begging to be released, but you suppress it with all your strength, “now are you gonna keep arguing with me, or are you gonna let me actually date you?”

In the short amount of time you’ve talked to her, you’ve come to realize that arguing with Riri Williams was futile in every attempt. She would win every single time, in some way, shape, or form, and to refute her would cause you your own headache. Remembering your observation, you all but sigh, giving in to her antics, and Riri’s lips carry a smile of victory.

She asks for your size and you give it to her, with no resistance. Almost an hour later, and the two of you leave the store with a bag each - you having the one pair of high tops Riri had brought your attention to earlier, and her two pairs of shoes she said were new additions to her collection. She’s a sneakerhead, you deduce, and imprint this new information into your brain for recollection later.

After Foot Locker, the inevitable rumble of your stomachs leads you to a nearby Subway, of which the two of you bunker down for a moment to eat and get to know each other.

“So you’re an engineer?” You question after taking a bite of your sandwich. “Anything specific?”

“Nothin’ much, really,” Riri replies, speaking through the mush of food in her mouth, covered by her hand. She continues after swallowing, “I do some robotics here and there. I be buildin’ people’s shit for classes, it’s a good side gig. Honestly, though, I just make whatever comes to mind.”

You were indifferent to the world of math and science and technology, but the way Riri speaks about it, it sounds like STEM became her saving grace. She has a passion for it, and you admire it. You admire her.

“That’s fuckin’ amazing,” you murmur in response, “I mean, I can’t tell an expression from an equation, but I can tell that you talk like you love it. Not just for the money, but you actually love what you do. A lot of people can’t say that.”

Riri shrugs, chugging down a sip of her drink before she speaks again, “I been doin’ it since I was a baby; if it ain’t love for this shit, I can’t tell you what it would be that drives me. That money do be a good motivator though.” And the both of you laugh, and it is deep and boisterous and genuine.

The next stop on your day on the town is to Block 37 - a five story mall building with various shops, food spots, and a cinema on the top floor. Riri takes you to Banana Republic, and tells you to look around to your heart's content. As much as you want to fight her on it, the look in her eyes immediately shoots you down, and so, the pair of you begin to look around at the various racks and shelves of items.

“You don’t go on many dates, do you?” Riri suddenly asks. You could reply with some witty remark, but the fact of the matter is that Riri’s words are true.

“Not really,” you admit, “I’m not exactly the first option for people.”

Your experience within the dating field is very limited. You weren’t as outspoken, confident, and alluring as some of your friends. You were the wallflower, the shy, quiet girl who never caught the eyes of the people you wanted. You were content with that label, as you had come to accept your position a long time ago. So to say you were a bit shocked that Riri even asked you out, and actually meant it, was a little bit of an understatement.

Riri saves her next question for when the two of you find refuge on a bench in Millenium Park. It’s a slightly secluded area, with the bushes obscuring the both of you and giving you a sense of privacy.

“Okay, now I’m curious,” she begins, and you can already tell she’s about to ask something absurd, “have you ever had another girlfriend?”

“I’ve had other partners,” you answer, “doesn’t mean they were necessarily good, though.”

You lean back into the wooden seat, eyes directed upwards to the blue sky, puffy white clouds slowly floating by. “Before I was out, I dated a guy. Horrible experience, zero out of ten, would not recommend. Then during my phase of questioning, I was talking to this one girl, and she practically led me on for the entire time we were talking. And aside from them, I haven't had any other experiences.”

The first guy you dated was during your freshman year. Thinking back on it, you probably couldn’t consider the engagement a relationship, as he never claimed you, and entertained other girls during the time you were supposed to be together. You’d been the one to ask him out, and you’d been the one to break things off.

The second girl you dated during the summer of your sophomore year of college - not too long ago, actually - was the person to help you realize your sexuality. That was the only thing that came out of that situationship. Perhaps it was the aura, the appearance, the smooth words or her demeanor that drew you to her. You couldn’t confidently say that the emotion you felt for her was love, but it was something closely akin to it. Which made it all the more painful when you ended the engagement after a long period of consideration, because while it killed you to hate her for the way she toyed with your feelings, loving her would have truly murdered you.

Riri takes notice of the somber look on your face. It makes her wonder just how wrongful were you treated by these prior suitors, how they had fumbled your heart and left you as this timid, weary person, nervous at the idea of someone genuinely finding interest in you.

“Well, they sound like assholes,” she remarks, and you snort at her conclusion, “and that they don’t know something good when it’s in front of them.”

“And what, you do?” You shoot back playfully, and although your words were supposed to come off as a joke, Riri’s face displays a seriousness you hadn’t seen until now.

“I wouldn’t have asked you out if I was just tryna fool around, ma.” she confesses. It takes you slightly by surprise - this is the second time she has expressed her interest in you.

“Then what are your intentions?” You question, fiddling with the sleeves of your own sweater. Did you have doubts that Riri was taking you seriously? Of course. You met at a house party, of all places. What percentage of couples who met at house parties actually stay together for the long term? You were sure it wasn’t a large number. What could she have possibly seen in you in less than twenty-four hours that captivated her so intensely?

“I wanna date you,” Riri says, matter of factly, “wanna make you mine. Ain’t that the purpose of dating? To get to know each other and see if we’re compatible?” And for the second time since you’ve met her, Riri Williams has you completely speechless with her straightforwardness.

“I mean, yeah, when I saw you at that party, I saw a pretty face standing alone on the wall; I had to come shoot my shot,” the engineer confesses, “but I’m vibin’ with you. You’re cute, you’re funny, and we match energies. You’re down to earth and you’ve got a mind of your own. I like that, and I like you.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were being cooked in an oven by the way the intense heat from your bashful nature took over your being. You had never experienced a confession of this caliber before - much less one at all. You shy up instantly, your voice getting lost in the incoherent noises that were begging to be released from your throat. Riri Williams has yet to not amaze you.

“Th-That’s nice and all,” you begin, pursing your lips together, darting your eyes away, “but that’s hardly a decision I can make just off one date.”

“Then lemme take you on some more,” Riri chirps, finding the solution to your faux dilemma easily, “I’m not asking you to make a split second decision right now. I’m just saying - gimme a shot, and I’ll show you that you ain’t gotta overthink about how I feel about you. Let me get to know you.”

You turn your gaze back to the girl sitting next to you, and for the third time since you’ve met her, Riri Williams has you speechless. But as you think about the initial proposal, the idea that Riri took her time to observe you, and would continue to learn you voluntarily, because she did like you, makes your heart flutter in a way it hadn’t done so in years. Perhaps it’s a proposition you could entertain, you think, as a small smile makes its way to your lips.

“What kind of dates would you take me on?” You ask, your voice a bit lower, and you don’t even notice that your body begins to leave in to the space between the two of you. It a cute act of flirting, Riri deduces, and she reciprocates your movements, leaning closer into you as she responds.

“Whatever you wanna do, ma,” She murmurs to you, “I’on think you’re the party kind of girl. I can tell you like lowkey shit…at home dates, that kinda stuff.”

“I do like me a good movie marathon,” you chuckle, and due to some unknown burst of confidence, you’re able to hold her intense eye contact, chocolate brown irises staring into each other. You catch Riri’s eyes darting from your eyes to your lips in a swift motion. The sudden burst of confidence grows in you, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, a little bit of mischief climbing its way up your throat.

“You ain’t gotta be shy about kissing me,” you mutter, recalling the use of those very words by her the night prior.

Your words cause Riri to chuckle as her eyes dart to your lips again. She sucks her teeth, “Got a nigga to confess to you and now you actin’ bold.”

But she’s not complaining, not in the slightest, and neither do you when she leans in a little bit more, closing the gap between the two of you. It’s a dangerous near touch, your lips barely ghosting against each other. She’s holding back, you think; her hesitancy asking you for permission to proceed. But instead of giving her a signal, you take the leap - reaching up in the slightest manner to close the centimeter gap between the two of you, locking your lips together in a kiss that sends your stomach into a frenzy. Riri’s hand travels to the side of your neck, holding you there and erasing anything thoughts you had of pulling away. It’s mind numbing, the way the pads of her fingers press so gently against your skin, pressing more of you into her, and the way she tastes of cherry carmax and mint.

The world slows around you, and for the first time, your mind isn’t racing with doubts or questions. And you quite like this feeling. Perhaps with Riri, you’ll get to enjoy it more.

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