#public telephone booth
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International calls available
#public telephone booth#photographers on tumblr#original photographers#street photography#street photos#street photo#tokyo#ginza#20230714
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電話ボックスが大変身！商店街に誕生した小さな図書館【三重県四日市市・諏訪新道発展会】
素敵な取り組み💕
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Pay phone in Düsseldorf, Germany, 1972.
(Deutsche Fotothek)
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Rating Public Bookcases I encounter 📚
The second PB I’m rating is an old telephone booth. I really like repurposed TB’s: they protect the books from the bad weather and they allow me to not feel so cold as I’m looking for books during winter. The ones I’ve seen all have had a makeover on the outside which makes them cool and easy to recognize. They also have a pretty good amount of space for books which is always nice.
Now for this one booth. It has all these qualities but it’s not the best. It’s pretty far away from where I live, it’s kind of hidden and I dont think a lot of people come there. Everytime I check it out, it has approximately the same books. The ones that are added are put on the ground because there isn’t that much space left which makes it a bit uncomfy to stand in. I’d love to go there and care for it when I have the time. 4/10 :/
First post -> click on the #“public bookcase series” to find it. I’ll make links in the future
#public bookcase series#public bookshelf#public bookcase#telephone booth#public library#book#booklr#book swapping#free book#free library#street libraby#personal blah blah
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Public pay phones
Sticking advertising on every nook and cranny they could find -- eventually that meant the phone booth. Though this is not an advertisement. It is needing to assert what it is, as public phone booths get displaced -- giant letters spell it out: phone -- fifty cents anywhere. Can't pull out your cell phone, you got this!
#Archie Comics#Jughead#Archie Andrews#Veronica Lodge#Public phone booth#Telephone call#1976#Samm Schwartz
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in honor of that anon who said jews have done nothing for the world, here’s a non exhaustive list of things we’ve done for the world:
arts, fashion, and lifestyle:
jeans - levi strauss
modern bras - ida rosenthal
sewing machines - isaac merritt singer
modern film industry - carl laemmle (universal pictures), adolph zukor (paramount pictures), william fox (fox film forporation), louis b. mayer (mgm - metro-goldwyn-mayer), harry, sam, albert, and jack warners (warner bros.), steven spielberg, mel brooks, marx brothers
operetta - jacques offenbach
comic books - stan lee
graphic novels - will eisner
teddy bears - morris and rose michtom
influential musicians - irving berlin, stephen sondheim, benny goodman, george gershwin, paul simon, itzhak perlman, leonard bernstein, bob dylan, leonard cohen
artists - mark rothko
actors - elizabeth taylor, jerry lewis, barbara streisand
comedians - lenny bruce, joan rivers, jerry seinfeld
authors - judy blume, tony kushner, allen ginsberg, walter mosley
culture:
esperanto - ludwik lazar zamenhof
feminism - betty friedan, gloria steinem, ruth bader ginsberg
queer and trans rights - larry kramer, harvey milk, leslie feinberg, abby stein, kate bornstein, frank kameny, judith butler
international women's day - clara zetkin
principles of journalizm, statue of liberty, and pulitzer prize - joseph pulitzer
"the new colossus" - emma lazarus
universal declaration of human rights - rene samuel cassin
holocaust remembrance and human rights activism - elie wiesel
workers rights - louis brandeis, rose schneiderman
public health care, women's rights, and children's rights - lillian wald
racial equity - rabbi abraham joshua heschel, julius rosenwald, andrew goodman, michael schwerner
political theory - hannah arendt
disability rights - judith heumann
black lives matter slogan and movement - alicia garza
#metoo movement - jodi kantor
institute of sexology - magnus hirschfeld
technology:
word processing computers - evelyn berezin
facebook - mark zuckerberg
console video game system - ralph henry baer
cell phones - amos edward joel jr., martin cooper
3d - leonard lipton
telephone - philipp reis
fax machines - arthur korn
microphone - emile berliner
gramophone - emile berliner
television - boris rosing
barcodes - norman joseph woodland and bernard silver
secret communication system, which is the foundation of the technology used for wifi - hedy lamarr
three laws of robotics - isaac asimov
cybernetics - norbert wiener
helicopters - emile berliner
BASIC (programming language) - john george kemeny
google - sergey mikhaylovich brin and larry page
VCR - jerome lemelson
fax machine - jerome lemelson
telegraph - samuel finley breese morse
morse code - samuel finley breese morse
bulletproof glass - edouard benedictus
electric motor and electroplating - boris semyonovich jacobi
nuclear powered submarine - hyman george rickover
the internet - paul baran
icq instant messenger - arik vardi, yair goldfinger,, sefi vigiser, amnon amir
color photography - leopold godowsky and leopold mannes
world's first computer - herman goldstine
modern computer architecture - john von neumann
bittorrent - bram cohen
voip internet telephony - alon cohen
data archiving - phil katz, eugene roshal, abraham lempel, jacob ziv
nemeth code - abraham nemeth
holography - dennis gabor
laser - theodor maiman
instant photo sharing online - philippe kahn
first automobile - siegfried samuel marcus
electrical maglev road - boris petrovich weinberg
drip irrigation - simcha blass
ballpoint pen and automatic gearbox - laszlo biro
photo booth - anatol marco josepho
medicine:
pacemakers and defibrillators - louise robinovitch
defibrillators - bernard lown
anti-plague and anti-cholera vaccines - vladimir aronovich khavkin
polio vaccine - jonas salk
test for diagnosis of syphilis - august paul von wasserman
test for typhoid fever - ferdinand widal
penicillin - ernst boris chain
pregnancy test - barnhard zondek
antiretroviral drug to treat aids and fight rejection in organ transplants - gertrude elion
discovery of hepatitis c virus - harvey alter
chemotherapy - paul ehrlich
discovery of prions - stanley prusiner
psychoanalysis - sigmund freud
rubber condoms - julius fromm
birth control pill - gregory goodwin pincus
asorbic acid (vitamin c) - tadeusz reichstein
blood groups and rh blood factor - karl landsteiner
acyclovir (treatment for infections caused by herpes virus) - gertrude elion
vitamins - caismir funk
technique for measuring blood insulin levils - rosalyn sussman yalow
antigen for hepatitus - baruch samuel blumberg
a bone fusion technique - gavriil abramovich ilizarov
homeopathy - christian friedrich samuel hahnemann
aspirin - arthur ernst eichengrun
science:
theory of relativity - albert einstein
theory of the electromagnetic field - james maxwell
quantum mechanics - max born, gustav ludwig hertz
quantum theory of gravity - matvei bronstein
microbiology - ferdinand julius cohn
neuropsychology - alexander romanovich luria
counters for x-rays and gamma rays - robert hofstadter
genetic engineering - paul berg
discovery of the antiproton - emilio gino segre
discovery of cosmic microwave background radiation - arno allan penzias
discovery of the accelerating expansion of the universe - adam riess and saul merlmutter
discovery that black hole formation is a robust prediction of the general theory of relativity - roger penrose
discovery of a supermassive compact object at the center of the milky way - andrea ghez
modern cosmology and the big bang theory - alexander alexandrovich friedmann
stainless steel - hans goldschmidt
gas powered vehicles
interferometer - albert abraham michelson
discovery of the source of energy production in stars - hans albrecht bethe
proved poincare conjecture - grigori yakovlevich perelman
biochemistry - otto fritz meyerhof
electron-positron collider - bruno touschek
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old dogs don't change
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: weeks after sleeping together, your no-strings-attached agreement goes up in flames when joel goes on a date with another woman. you make sure that never happens again. (sequel to keep it on the low)
warnings: 18+ MDNI, ex-boyfriend!joel, jackson era, tlou 2 jesse appearance, age gap, hurt, angst, smut, unprotected piv, post-breakup sex, rough sex, public sex, rough oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, possessive behavior, jealousy, alcohol use, briefly dating other people
word count: 10.6k
You have no idea who she is, but you bet she’s a total bitch. Is that mean? Maybe. Do you give a shit? Nope.
To be fair, you’d probably say that about anyone Joel started dating after you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be true. Sure, you've never actually talked to her…or seen her before in your entire life, but that’s beside the point. She’s cute and bubbly, and everything you’re not, and that’s the point.
It’s honestly a little comical how different the two of you are, and you can’t help but wonder if Tommy did that on purpose. You know he was the one who set them up. Everyone in the dining hall was talking about it this morning. The latest, hottest piece of gossip, bouncing from table to table like a cruel game of telephone.
He probably thinks he’s protecting his big brother, but you think he needs to mind his own fucking business. It’s not like he knows anything about your relationship, not really. Well. It’s not your relationship anymore, is it? And Tommy, along with everyone else in this town, blames you for that.
Poor Joel, dumped by the biggest bitch in Jackson, who took advantage of his kindness and patience for years, and broke his heart when all he did was love her. Selfish, cold, and uncaring. Nothing like the pretty, perky girl sitting next to him in the booth they’re sharing at Seth’s.
If only they knew what really happened.
The bar is especially busy, even for a Saturday night, so you figure no one’ll notice you blatantly glaring at them. It’s not like you care, anyway. You’re feeling warm and loose, and maybe a little too tipsy for your own good, but tonight, you get to do whatever the fuck you want.
Because Joel’s sitting ten feet away with his arm slung around another woman, and it hurts.
It sucks way worse than him avoiding you since the last time you slept together, after all of the things you did and said on that couch. The things he said. You shoo away the thought with another swig of beer, wishing you were drinking something stronger. It's for the best.
If you get any drunker, you’ll probably end up doing something stupid, and the last thing you need is to prove everyone right that he’s better off without you. But you can’t seem to shake the anger that’s starting to simmer below the surface.
With the emotional toll this night has already taken, you kind of don’t want to. So, you surrender to it. Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit for parading his new girl around right in front of you, and for breaking off your agreement without so much as a word.
If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve opened his mouth and used his big boy words. Then again, he’s always been terrible at that, so why are you surprised?
Maybe he’ll fuck her tonight. Touch her all of the ways you like because that’s all he knows anymore. She’ll moan for him, soft and sweet, gentle in her affection, just like she’s touching him right now. But it won’t satisfy him, and when he’s panting on top of her, chasing that all-consuming release only you can give him, you know he’ll be pretending she's you.
Asshole.
You’re still watching them, shooting daggers from your spot at the bar, when your wish from earlier is granted. Two overflowing shot glasses topped with lime are placed in front of you, and you look up to see a very attractive dark-haired, brown-eyed man smirking down at you.
"Looked a little lonely over here," he says in a raspy baritone even lower than Joel's. He clinks the top of your beer bottle with the bottom of his own. "Thought you could use some company, maybe another drink."
Well, he’s right. You could use some company, and you’d love another drink. There’s no harm in having a little fun, right? If Joel’s doing it, then there’s nothing stopping you.
"So, both of these are for me, then?" you smile coyly, reaching for one. He nods, his own smile widening.
"Could be. Can I join ya?" he gestures to the empty stool next to you.
He has this cocky look on his face like he already knows you'll say yes, and in your inebriated state, you think it's kind of hot. It reminds you of Joel when you first met. How he knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't give up until it was his. Until you were his.
You consider him for a moment. He’s young, maybe even younger than you, and obviously confident enough to make a move on you. Fleetingly, you think he might end up being that stupid thing you do tonight, but then you down one of the shots and decide you don't actually care.
What turns out to be tequila burns the entire way down, and you immediately pick up a slice of lime. You’re hyperaware of the way his eyes lock onto your mouth as you suck on the sour fruit, lingering when a droplet of juice dribbles down your chin.
It’s not a total surprise when he reaches up to thumb it away, but you are taken off guard by how strange it makes you feel. The pad of his finger is disappointingly smooth, no weathering or even a hint of a callus. You're not sure why that matters to you, but you can take a decent guess.
You chance a glance over at Joel's table and, of course, you have his full attention now. His entire body looks tense, from his hand clenched on the table to the prominent vein bulging angrily in his neck.
Good. Now he knows how it feels.
Looking back up at your mystery guy, you run your tongue along your bottom lip, catching any remaining lime before you finally give him an answer.
"Sure. Pop a squat, cowboy," you giggle. It doesn't even sound like you and feels wrong the second it passes your lips, but as long as Joel heard it, that's all that matters. "You got a name?"
He replies, but you're too busy keeping an eye on Joel in your peripheral to catch what he says. In the back of your mind, you think that’s probably a good thing. You'd rather not know, especially if you do end up taking him home.
Mystery guy laughs at your noncommittal hum and you realize you’ve been caught. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s clear he’s amused by your obvious interest elsewhere and that piques your curiosity.
Any other guy here would’ve been pissed by your apathy, especially if they’d bothered to buy you a drink that you accepted, but apparently not this one.
He sits down on the stool next to you, pulling it close enough that his knee presses against yours. You unconsciously lean into him, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite your growing unease.
He's...baffling. A total enigma. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he’s choosing to keep pursuing you when your eyes have been glued to another man all night.
The thought of letting this continue long enough to find out is a little thrilling. Might as well see where this goes. If it escalates, you’re more than confident in your ability to care of yourself.
But it happens sooner than you expect. His hand finds the back of your stool and, then, his lips are suddenly right next to your cheek. You can feel the warmth of them as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear.
“Look, not try'na to overstep, but…,” his eyes dart to where Joel’s sitting, unreservedly ignoring his date. The poor thing barely notices, chattering away about something not nearly as important to him as watching you. His gaze returns to you, and you can feel him smirking. “You wanna make that guy you've been staring at all night jealous?"
That’s—wow. You didn’t see that one coming. He’s got a lot of audacity to assume that’s something you’d want, let alone offer…what? His services?
But, then again, he isn’t wrong. Joel’s been the only thing on your mind since you walked into Seth’s tonight and saw him with her. He’s always on your mind if you’re being totally honest with yourself. It’s plain to see, obvious to every single person in this bar including the man himself.
You eye your mystery guy curiously for a second before nodding, your lips quirking into a small smirk. Maybe it’s time to prove to Joel and everyone else in this judgmental town that you’ve moved on, too. That you’re not the sad, bitter shrew that deserves to be alone.
"Yeah, actually, I do," you reply cautiously. But there's still one lingering question that has yet to be answered. "I just…why? I don’t get why you’re helping me. What are you getting out of this?”
He shrugs, and somehow you can just tell by the look in his eyes that there’s no hidden agenda. You’re not sure how you’re just noticing, but he has kind eyes. This whole time, he’s been nothing but patient and attentive, like Joel always was—...is?
Was.
You almost wish you could fall for someone like this man instead of pathetically clinging to your past. Maybe you’ll at least get a friend out of this crazy night, if nothing else. But then you remember one, tiny problem with that idea.
“Can you tell me your name again? I promise you have my full attention this time,” you smile sheepishly. He chuckles good-naturedly and, again, doesn’t seem to hold it against you.
“It’s Jesse,” he says with a deep, southern drawl you should probably be more attracted to. “And let’s just say I know how it feels to want someone ya can’t have.”
You nod slowly, understanding perfectly. Except—you didn't realize up until this moment that that's exactly what you want. Someone you can't ever have.
And it took seeing Joel with someone else, his body pressed up against a woman that isn't you, to realize it. Well, that fucking sucks.
You decide not to ask about Jesse's situation. It's not your business and, anyway, you're both trying to feel better about your circumstances, not worse.
There’s a silent sense of camaraderie between you that tells you to throw caution to the wind. Tossing back the second shot, you turn your stool to face his, literally and figuratively turning your back on Joel.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Jesse,” you murmur, and you genuinely mean it. He grins, leaning in slowly, still giving you time to back out if you want to, but you don't.
Eat your heart out, Joel Miller. This one's for you.
"S'nice to meet you, too," he replies softly.
Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is wet and open-mouthed, and yet he handles you so delicately. He cradles your face in his hands as his tongue brushes against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth, letting your body get lost in the way he feels. And he feels so—
Much different than Joel.
All you can think about is how much you miss Joel's rough touch, the way he'd thread his fingers through your hair and tug you into his mouth, nearly devouring you whole. Joel kissed you like every time might be the last, right up until it actually was.
Fucking hell, why can't you just enjoy this without him ruining it for you?
You try to forget about it, about him, licking into Jesse's mouth a little more aggressively, and he groans, his body eager and responsive. It's probably more than you should be doing in public, sitting at a bar surrounded by people but, hell, you want them to see.
They can say whatever they want about you. You're done giving a shit.
And, boy, will they have a lot to talk about after tonight. Joel makes sure of that. It happens so fast, you barely register that Jesse’s lips aren’t on yours anymore like they should be.
One moment, Jesse's hands are trailing down your sides to your waist, and the next, he's being forcibly dragged off you. Between you stands a broad, imposing figure ensuring you stay separated.
Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is watch in shock and disbelief as Joel lets loose on him, his words possessive and almost nonsensical.
"The fuck you think you're doin' touchin' her like that? Y'need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, kid, before ya get yourself in trouble," he grits out angrily.
To his credit, Jesse stays cool and collected, but it’s not enough. There’s already a few pairs of eyes on you, drawn by the physical altercation, and it won’t be long before the rest of the bar notices the impending fight.
"Respectfully, sir, s'long as the lady consents, I'll put my hands wherever she wants," Jesse replies, standing his ground. He tries to move around him to return to your side, but Joel fixes him with a look that sends a shiver down your spine.
"S'that really a good idea?" Joel sounds menacing and looks even more so the longer the conversation continues.
You’re still numb to everything unfolding in front of you and it’s not until Jesse’s next to you again, snaking an arm around your waist, that you finally come to. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks and now you’re mad. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Jesse cuts you off before you can get a word in.
“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” he turns the question back on Joel and you tense, anticipating a less-than-friendly answer. Jesse squeezes your hip in reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe your unease. He doesn’t know Joel like you do.
“Kid, do I look like I’m fuckin’ around? Take your hands off her and walk away. M'not gonna tell you again,” he all but growls, taking a threatening step forward.
Neither of you back down. Jesse’s arm stays firm around you as your nails bite into your palm. It's taking everything you've got not to make a bigger scene than you already have.
You knew it. Since the breakup, you’ve been trying to reconcile this increasingly unfamiliar man with the Joel you gave your entire heart to all those years ago. With each passing month, the differences between the two become more and more obvious.
He's angrier now and has so much less patience. It's not that he's unkind. You know that no matter what his circumstances are, Joel will continue to be a good man. But he has a hair trigger, especially when it comes to you.
And he wants. God, he always wants you. It’s not that you didn’t have an active sex life before everything fell apart. He just...fucks you differently now. Possessively and without restraint, like he needs to be sure you're satisfied enough to never need anyone else. The agreement to keep sleeping together was actually his idea. And it worked for a while—until it suddenly didn't.
Now, you're forced to come face-to-face with that reality. Sitting at this bar, you spent the entirety of the night believing he'd decided he didn't want you anymore, that he was ready to find happiness in something simpler than sneaking around with his ex.
Except, it's starting to feel like maybe that's not as true as he made it seem. Like he never should've gone on this date in the first place.
"What the fuck, Joel?" you hiss, fighting to keep your volume under control. Not that it matters. The entire bar is staring at you, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth like they're watching a tennis match. "Back the fuck off. Now. This is none of your business."
"The hell it ain't my business. Some kid's runnin' his hands all over another man's girl and y'think that ain't my business?"
His trembling hands clench into fists at his sides and, while you’re betting the rest of the bar thinks he’s preparing for a fight, that isn’t Joel. It might be you, though, if he keeps this up.
"Excuse me? And whose girl am I—yours? Because I'm pretty sure your girl is sitting over there in that booth. Or did you forget about your date?"
For a moment, he actually has the nerve to look ashamed, like he feels bad about leaving her all alone at their table and for humiliating her in front of all these people. He avoids her crestfallen gaze, likely not ready to face the hurt he’s caused.
But it only lasts for a second before his eyes darken again, focused solely on you. As if Jesse, his pretty date, and everyone else in this bar disappeared, and it's just you and him. This conversation doesn't include them anymore. It's a private matter now.
"We're leavin'," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument.
He should know better. That's not how things work with you. You’re a fighter, a trait he’s always loved about you, even if your ire was directed at him. Back then, it rarely was.
"You're out of your mind if you think I'm leaving with you," you scoff bitterly. "Go back to your date, I'll go back to mine, and we can forget about this. All of it. We're done, Joel."
He shakes his head, mouth tipping down into a frown like he's thinking something over. Then, he huffs out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, and you start to think maybe he really has lost his mind.
"Y'know, I really don't think we are, darlin'," he drawls dangerously.
He's on you in an instant, his hand wrapped tightly around your arm as he drags you out of the bar. You briefly consider resisting, but he's moving too quickly. All of those shots you downed combined with the beer you drank earlier go straight to your head, and you're suddenly overwhelmingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours.
Fuck, it feels like it's been so long. In reality, you know it's only been a few weeks but, god, you missed it. His hands on your body, anywhere at all on your body. You'd hate how quickly you forget about Jesse if you could think about anything else but those familiar, rough fingertips.
The way they dig into you, reminiscent of how he'd squeeze your thighs or clutch your waist when he was making love to you.
...Wait, what? No...no, fuck. Why is he making this so difficult? Why—Christ...why can't you just leave each other alone? If he never planned on letting you go, he shouldn't have broken up with you. And if he still wanted you this badly...all he had to do was ask. You would've said yes in a heartbeat.
So, you let him steal you away, out into the brisk, wintry air that does little to cool your fury or the heat beginning to coil in your belly. The door shuts noisily behind you, and you immediately wrench your arm out of his grasp before he can say a word. It's your turn to talk now.
"What is wrong with you? You can't just...fuck, you can't do shit like this!" You're seething, practically shaking in your rage, and his expression doesn't look much different.
"And you can? I dunno what the hell you were thinkin' gettin’ cozy with some goddamn kid, lettin’ him touch ya like that in front of the whole town," he reiterates harshly. He's starting to sound like a broken record. It's the only leverage he's got, and you both know it's flimsy at best.
"Some kid? Jesse's a fucking adult, clearly more mature than you," you bite back. "And it’s a bar, Joel. That's what people do at bars."
Joel scoffs, and you can tell he hates the way Jesse's name falls from your lips. Especially when those lips were on yours not even ten minutes ago.
"And who are you to decide who can and can't touch me? You broke up with me," you continue resentfully. "You don't get a say anymore."
At that, his face becomes unreadable. He didn't need the reminder, and you know that, but it needed to be said for both of your sakes. Sometimes you think maybe he actually forgets it was his choice to give you up. That he didn't realize his decision would hurt you as much as it hurt him.
"So, what? You gonna take him home then, let him fuck ya?" He leans in close, so close you can feel his soft, graying curls against your temple and the coarse drag of his beard across your cheek.
"Kiss ya here—," a finger trails delicately down the side of your neck to his spot above your collarbone, then continues down to where you've been aching for him for weeks, "—taste ya here."
You slap his hand away before he can get any further, but your reaction only spurs him on. How could you forget? He likes that.
"Y'know he can't make ya feel as good as I do. Fuck you just how y'like it, make ya cum as hard as I do," he drawls confidently, almost smugly, in your ear. "Don't ya?"
It's less a question than a statement, because you both know he's right. Joel knows your body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than you know it yourself. Just as much as you know his. And it's sort of funny. You were thinking the exact same thing about him with his date earlier.
"Sure, Joel. Just like you were gonna take that girl home, right?" You raise an eyebrow, turning your head so your lips graze his skin. "Pretty little thing like her, I bet she likes it slow and romantic. She’ll probably even stick around for a snuggle and some pillow talk. You'd love that.”
Even as you mock him, the sneer marring your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes, and the spiteful nature of your words tastes acrid as they pass your lips. He’s so good at that. Always able to bring out the worst in you to prove his point—that he’s no good for you.
But you stand firm, your chest pressed flush against his in a show of determination. You're still in control here, unlike Joel, whose fingers are twitching noticeably at his sides like he's just itching to get his hands on you again.
"Maybe I would. Liked it with you, didn't I?" he murmurs wistfully, and that catches you completely off guard.
His words are almost too gentle to belong in this argument, and it doesn’t feel fair. What's worse, he looks like he means them. You’d prefer the fight, the aggression of the man who dragged you out of the bar. Not this. Not these traces of your Joel.
You can already feel your resolve slipping, and the rapid thrum of your heartbeat tells you to let it. When his hands finally take their rightful place on your waist, he’s in control again.
The cool evening air is suddenly stifling, and you’re starting to feel like you’re suffocating, your thoughts a jumbled, heated haze of anger and fear and want. He squeezes hard enough to pull your hips into his and you unintentionally buck, allowing his hands to travel up your shirt.
There's an intensity to his gaze, tinged with an unexpected tenderness. He almost looks...sated. Fulfilled, now that you're back in his arms. But not completely, not yet.
"You still haven't answered my question," he mutters. His hands splay across your ribcage, high enough for his thumbs to tease the undersides of your breasts.
You bite down hard on your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his chest to push him away so you can catch your breath, but your body won't cooperate. It's been well-trained to crave his touch. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you fist his shirt and instead pull him impossibly closer.
"You asked a lot of questions tonight. You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” you pant heavily.
It's getting more difficult to think, now, with the warmth of his body against you, his thumbs shifting higher to stroke your stiffening nipples. He urges your hips forward again to meet his, and you can already feel him straining in his jeans.
You whimper helplessly, unable to curb the way your body's reacting to him, and the soft sound causes something in him to snap. He suddenly backs you up against the hard brick of the bar's exterior and begins to grind languidly into your stomach.
"Y'really believe that boy can take care of a woman like you? Hm?" He interrogates you, his voice gravelly and uneven in your ear. "Tell me I'm the only one who can give you what ya need. Wanna hear ya say it."
Fuck, you can't lie to him. As much as you want to, it's just one more thing your body won't allow you to do. Not when he's working you up like this.
"You're the only one," you moan around your admission. He's still crowding you into the wall, his hands greedily roaming your soft curves.
His eyes meet yours, darting quickly to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you passionately like he’s rewarding you. It only lasts for a second, one deliciously fleeting second, before he pulls away. You’re not sure why you let him. Or why you kissed back.
"Who's the only man who can make ya scream?" he demands a little more urgently.
"You, Joel,” you murmur obediently, your lips already parted and ready for your prize.
And he acquiesces—another insistent kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough. This time, you chase him, but he jerks his head back. He still has one last question for you. Except, this time, he looks afraid of the answer.
"Whose girl are ya?"
He whispers it so softly, you barely catch it over the whistling, nighttime breeze. As he brushes a few ruffled strands of hair behind your ear, you answer without hesitation.
"Yours, Joel."
His entire body relaxes. Now, he's complete.
"Damn right, you are—"
Then, the front door bursts open next to you, and he's abruptly cut off. Joel is quick to tug you around the corner into the alleyway before anyone can spot you, but he's not fast enough to keep you from seeing who just left the bar.
Jesse.
And there it is. A shock to the system, enough to clear some of that smoky, nostalgic haze and bring you back to the present. But as everything hurtles back for the second time tonight, this time around, you can’t be mad because he’s right.
Of course, you're not Jesse's girl. As pathetic as it sounds, you'll always be Joel's because he’s the only one who can take care of you and give you what need. The only man who can make you scream. But that goes both ways.
Even though he’s been picking fights all night, he hasn’t raised his voice once. It's not the way he wins his battles. So, maybe it's time to remind Joel Miller that there is someone who can make him scream. But he isn't allowed to unless you say so.
It all feels eerily familiar—his fingers digging into your waist and your lips crashing into his hard enough to bruise. You lead him deeper into the alley, back to where the glow of the string lights above the bar can't reach you, before you separate from him.
Neither of you wants to be the one to say it, but it needs to be heard. Here, in the dark, you can be his completely, but once you part ways and return to your empty beds, that's it. Just like last time. The reasons for your breakup are still very real, and that means your relationship can't be.
"Only here. Right, Joel?"
He stays silent for a moment, his gaze filled with deep longing and sadness. It almost makes you want to take it back. Take him back. So, when he shakes his head and cups your cheeks, kissing you like this might be his last chance, you're not surprised in the slightest.
And after this whole night—this whole confusing, fucked-up night—you let him. Right now, he needs this. Maybe you do, too.
His lips taste like whiskey and relief, and you return his kiss with all of the passion and fervor he’s pouring into you. You’re both a little frantic in the way you touch each other, but as much as you don’t want it to, it makes perfect sense.
Those few weeks without each other felt like years, and now that his hands are back on your body and his voice, deep and dulcet, is in your ear telling you how badly he wants you, you don’t want to let him go again.
You grind the heel of your hand into the front of his jeans and his responding groan pleases you more than it probably should. This. This is yours—his pleasure, his attention, him. They belong to you and you alone. Not his pretty, perky fucking date.
The sudden possessiveness stuns you for a moment, but it's not enough to stop the feeling from consuming you. This must be how it feels for Joel. It's potent and feels so, so…right. You're starting to think you've felt this way for a while.
"I needed you, and you made me wait so fucking long," you gasp against his lips, and the fingers cradling your face tense. You’re still fisting his shirt, nearly hard enough to tear, and you wrench it up from where it’s tucked into his pants.
"M'sorry, darlin', I know. I know I did,” he rasps back, following your lead and dropping his hands from your cheeks so he can unbuckle his jeans. “M'gonna make it up to ya. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to ya.”
You want everything. Everything he has to give, you want it all. After everything you've been through, the hurt he caused you, you deserve it. And right now, what you want is for him to feel so good, he'll never go on a date with someone who isn't you ever again.
Sharp gravel bites into your bare skin as you drop to your knees in front of him. He's already so hard under all that heavy fabric and looks desperate above you. Just as desperate as you are for him to replace the flavor of Jesse's tequila and lime on your tongue with something saltier and headier, and undeniably Joel.
You hastily unbutton and unzip his jeans, not wasting any more of the precious time you have left together, before tugging them down just enough to free his cock and balls. He looks...fucking mouth-watering—flushed and red and leaking, and so goddamn thick. You wrap your hand around him and he sighs gratefully, dribbling precum onto your fingers.
"This is what I want," you finally reply, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lean forward to lick a broad line up his cock. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, his thighs already beginning to tremble, and you brace your hand on one. "But you're gonna be quiet, okay? I'm gonna suck your cock and you're not gonna make a single sound."
His expression darkens, but he agrees to your terms, nonetheless.
"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you say," he nods, gazing down at you with furrowed brows. He cradles your face in his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.
The affectionate gesture isn't lost on you, but this time you accept it. Instinctively leaning into his touch, you revel in it for a brief moment before his cock pulsing a frantic rhythm against your palm becomes an unignorable distraction. But a welcome one.
"That's my boy," you mumble against the tip. Just as a pained noise escapes his parted lips, you swallow him down as far as you can take him, purposely gagging yourself on him before you can dwell on the words that accidentally just tumbled out.
Your boy. Your boy. It echoes in your mind, ricocheting wildly and painfully like a bullet. Before you can take it back, maybe even to keep you from taking it back, he buries his fingers in your hair and holds you in place. You choke around him, trying your best to breathe through your nose, but in doing so, you take in a lungful of the heady musk at his base.
The familiarity of it all sends you reeling. He only gives you a second to adjust before he's fucking into your mouth and biting back a litany of needy sounds that rival your own wet, audible gagging. Your grip on his thigh tightens as your throat relaxes, allowing you to take him deeper, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing every time he grazes the back of your throat.
Tears stream down your cheeks and he wipes them away with a much too tender swipe of his thumb, even as he continues to force you up and down his cock. But you're too lost in your pleasure to notice anymore. So fucking good, you feel so, so good. But you need more, and you're not willing to pull off of him just yet.
Tugging down the front of your shirt, you roll a sensitive nipple between your fingers, and, god, that helps. You imagine they're Joel's and it amplifies the sensation, though your fingertips are still too smooth and delicate. Then, they're replaced by exactly what you've been yearning for all night.
“You don’t even know how beautiful y'look like this,” he grits out, his fingers running through your hair with one hand and roughly cupping your breast with the other. His hips stutter, and you moan around him. “Fuckin’ perfect. How are ya so fuckin’ perfect?”
Beautiful. More beautiful than her? Well, you must be, because you’re the one here on your knees, choking on his cock, and she’s still sitting in the bar wondering if her date will ever come back.
He won’t.
You preen without meaning to, your eyes blearily finding his while you drool around him, dripping saliva down his balls and onto your bare breasts. It's as if the visual alone has him thrusting into your mouth faster, pushing your limits only as much as he knows you can take. You must look like a wet dream right now, his wet dream, with your watery eyes and swollen, split-slick lips wrapped tightly around him.
Yet, he's remained so, so quiet this entire time, just like you told him to. Joel likes his sex loud, regardless of where you are and who might hear, so if he’s following your rules, that means something.
It means he'll do whatever it takes to have you. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you're pulling off of him.
“You’ll give me anything, right? Anything I want?” your voice cracks around the question, wrecked from the effort of taking him. His hips chase your hand as you continue to pump him, matching his previous, unforgiving pace.
“That ain’t a question, y’know I will,” he replies breathily and without hesitation.
You gaze up at him, praying your eyes convey all of the need and anguish and hope you've felt since the last time you slept together. Since the last time you were his.
“Fuck me," and you won't accept anything less than his all. Not that half-assed shit he would've given her. "Fuck me."
He understands. His heart rate kicks up, thrumming wildly against the palm of your hand, and you know he does.
The growl that rumbles through his chest is nearly soundless but powerful. An entire night's worth of tension culminating in a single exhaled breath, just before he drags you up and spins you around, bending you over against the wall.
Bracing yourself on the harsh brick, you rush to give him better access, arching your back as he tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees. A callused hand runs upward, following the notches of your spine, while his other spreads across your waist, pulling your hips back onto his so you can feel him, heavy and leaking against your bare ass.
God, he’s so close to where you need him now. His knuckles graze your skin as he grips the base, pumping himself before the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance.
But then, for some godforsaken reason, you feel a wave of panic. Time suddenly feels like it's running out, worsening with every subtle movement he makes. The ticking clock of your and Joel's relationship, perpetually stuck at two minutes to midnight, has sprung to life and that terrifies you.
You don't want him to stop—fuck, you don't want him to stop, but you know neither of you will last long once he's inside you. The build-up was too intense and this entire night has you both wound up so tight, you could snap at any moment.
You need to savor this. The way you failed to on your couch all those weeks ago, and might not get to ever again.
“Slow,” you tell him over your shoulder, and it's equal parts a command and a plea. If this is the last time, then you want to feel it. Every thick inch of him, while he still belongs to you. “Just…go slow.”
He nods, shifting forward almost imperceptibly so he can watch your lashes flutter as you brace for the stretch.
"Don't need’ta tell me. I know how ya like it," he replies gruffly.
He does. For now, you won’t overthink it or let yourself get lost in the nostalgia of his cock nestled inside you. You’ll just enjoy it. Sex with Joel has always been mind-blowing, and here, in a dirty alleyway, pressed up against the exterior of a bar, you bet it’ll be life-changing.
It stings like it always does when he breaches your entrance, no matter how wet you are for him. Together, you hiss in a sharp breath, mutually adjusting to the overwhelming stretch that quickly ebbs into something addictive.
"Tight as all goddamn hell," he mutters to himself, rocking into you languidly. He takes his time, relishing your walls enveloping him, mesmerized by the way you suck him in until he's buried to the hilt.
"Would'ja look at that," he continues in awe, tracing where his cock is forcing you to yield to him. "Greedy fuckin' pussy, ain't she? M'not goin' anywhere, don't'chu worry. Gonna take care of ya...make ya feel so fuckin' good..."
He's starting to babble. Not good. Not good at all.
Broad hands grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can see how tightly you’re gripping him, and it's too much. His hips buck, startling a pained whine out of you as he rams into that spot. The one deep inside you he can only reach when he’s fucking you from behind. Your cunt clenches, fighting to keep him there, and he growls low in his throat, hungry and territorial like a wild animal.
"There it is," he nudges it again, purposefully this time. You barely manage to bite back a sob as you gush messily around him. "Christ, honey, y'sure ya still want it slow? 'Cus it sure don't sound like it."
He's patronizing you. He knows exactly what he's doing—that's his spot. He also knows it makes you loud as fuck. But he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d go back on his word, not after he promised he’d be discreet.
"Joel. Don't," you warn him shakily, but you're already too far gone to be intimidating.
He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you, huffing out a distinctly calculated breath.
"Don't what? Don't make ya cum nice and loud on my cock? 'Fraid I can't do that, darlin'."
That's all the warning you get before he slams in hard. Your jaw drops, and you're positive you couldn't have stopped the wail punched out of your chest even if you'd tried.
Wrong. You’re wrong again, and you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time he’s gone back on his word, remember? Joel’s shitty lack of communication is why you’re here in the first place. Sure, he agreed to be quiet, but he never said anything about you.
He establishes a brutal pace that has you scrabbling against the wall for purchase and slapping a hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the desperate cries being forced from your body.
Please, don’t be outside. Please, please, Jesse. Don’t still be outside.
But your luck's officially run out.
Heavy mahogany crashes into solid brick, echoing down the alleyway, and a raucous group of people spills out onto the street, barely 30 feet from where your ass and tits are out for anyone to see. Then, the deep baritone of Jesse's voice cuts through the rest, and your blood immediately turns to ice.
You're fucked. You're about to get caught and expose your secret to the entire town, except...Joel isn't stopping. Fuck, he's—
Yanking your entire body up and ripping your hand away from your mouth, rutting into you like he was just waiting for an audience. He snakes a hand up your stomach to palm at your chest, squeezing firmly to anchor himself as he fucks up into you with all the force he can muster.
And it turns you on so much, you finally stop caring. Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck everyone in that bar who made you feel like a goddamn pariah for months, crucifying you for the unforgivable sin of getting your heart broken.
You hope his date's standing out there, too, so she can hear everything she'll never get to have. So they can all see that Joel Miller isn't the crushed, cruelly dumped old man they all thought he was.
Your moans ring out, loud and high-pitched, all but drowning out the messy slap of his hips into the drenched curve of your ass.
"That's it, darlin', let it all out," he chuckles darkly against the shell of your ear. Your next moan tapers into a drawn-out keen that he mimics, his thrusts getting shallow and sloppy. "S'for me, right? Let 'em know you're makin' all those pretty noises just for me."
Christ, you're close. And he's as close as you are, you can feel it. You turn your head, nodding jerkily into his shoulder.
"S'for you, Joel—mmph, just for you. Only for you," your words slur as he continues to bounce you on his cock.
"Tell 'em you're mine, darlin’. Not just here," he pants raggedly, desperation coating his words. "Everywhere. You're mine everywhere."
The voices are getting closer, about to pass the mouth of the alley, and the ice in your veins quickly thaws, turning to molten lava. They'll definitely be able to able to hear you, but can they see you? For the umpteenth time tonight, you decide you really don't give a shit. You've got none left. You and Joel, that's all that matters now.
His hand drops between your legs, thick fingers swirling tight, slick circles into your clit while he waits for you to confirm what he already knows. You've said it again and again—weeks ago, wrapped up in his arms, and earlier tonight, after the worst argument you've had since the breakup.
And you’ll tell him again in this alley as you cum blindingly hard around his cock. Third time's the charm.
"Y-yours, Joel. I'm always yours."
His hips completely lose their rhythm, and he barely has time to breathe out his contentment before the violent convulsing of your cunt and contrasting serenity of your words send him hurtling over the edge.
"That's my girl."
He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every noise you make as the group finally comes into view. Their drunken chattering and roughhousing aren't enough to draw your attention away from each other, but the depraved sounds of Joel continuing to fuck you through your release captures theirs almost immediately.
A few of them stop to squint into the darkness, trying their best to pinpoint what everyone already knows is happening further down the alley. As they inch closer, they can just barely make out two connected figures, and the wind carrying muffled gasps and labored breathing with it into the street all but confirms it.
"Y'all seein' this?" they whisper amongst themselves, but in the inebriated state they're in, they might as well be yelling.
And that's what pulls you and Joel back to reality. Shit. Shit. So, this is it, then. You tense in Joel's arms, waiting to get called out as the slutty girl who seduced her ex away from his date. Hell, they're not even wrong. You can feel his cum dribbling out of you, and can't help but think maybe you'd deserve it.
From where you're standing, you recognize each and every one of their faces under the string lights, and you know damn well that none of them can keep their mouths shut. Except...wait a second. They're still glancing back and forth between you and Joel in the shadows and each other.
Oh. The fucking shadows. None of them can see shit. They have no clue who the hell they're looking at. Joel must've caught on around the same time you did, because now he's backing up, putting more distance between you and the looming crowd. Before they can get any closer, one of the younger guys cuts in front to block their path.
“C’mon, it's probably a couple’a teenagers. Just let ‘em be," he drawls, glancing back at you. Your eyes lock, and you're suddenly so grateful, you could cry. It's Jesse. He shoots you a wink before turning back to the group, shaking his head in mock admonishment. "Don't act like y'all weren't doin' the same damn thing at their age."
By some miracle, it fucking works. They all laugh in agreement, appeased by Jesse's quick thinking. One by one, they follow each other out of the alley and back onto the road to continue their original path home. Jesse lingers.
"Glad y'all figured things out," he calls out over his shoulder, giving you privacy to tug your shirt back up. He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Look, I, uh...distracted as many people as I could from comin' over here, but if y'all were gonna be that loud, maybe you should'a figured things out at home."
Jesse shakes his head again, chuckling to himself as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
"Anyway, y'all have a good night, now. Get home safe."
As he jogs away to catch up with the rest of the group, you start to laugh, too. You can’t help it. It feels cathartic, relieving some of the tension of this overly eventful night.
Joel’s body begins to shake behind you, his chest rumbling with what you realize is deep-bellied laughter. It gradually increases in volume as it melds seamlessly with yours; transitory, white clouds of condensation that intertwine, then dissipate.
You feel him slip out as he starts to soften, and then he turns you to face him, carefully crowding you into the wall. He kisses you again, this time slow and deliberate like you asked him to earlier. His tongue meets yours, gasps exchanged and treasured like you have all the time in the world.
When he parts from you, it feels reluctant, but he stays close, whispering his next words against your lips.
“M’gonna get ya cleaned up, alright?” he mumbles, dropping his arm from around your waist to run his fingers up the cum leaking down your thighs. You shiver as they continue up, slipping his release back inside you. “Don’t…,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead drops to yours, “…just—don’t go anywhere. Please. I’ll be right back.”
Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from the response he anticipates you’ll give him, but that seems silly after everything you’ve been through tonight. You cup his cheek and thumb the coarse, trimmed hairs of his beard, willing him to open his eyes. He does, hesitantly, one then the other, and you offer him a soft smile.
“I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”
An intoxicating breath fans across your face, and the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen. His lips match the soft quirk of your own and, then, brush fleetingly against your cheekbone as he backs away and disappears through a metal side door you didn't notice before. The moment it clicks shut, you slump against the wall.
Christ. Your mind is simultaneously blank and racing a mile a minute. Taking a deep breath, you let your head thunk into solid, grounding brick while you wait for even a single coherent thought to take root. What now? What happens next?
There's no coming back from tonight. You both made choices you'll have to answer for, but, for some reason, that doesn't seem so scary anymore. The clock is ticking, but there's time. Plenty of it.
You're still lost in your reverie when Joel gets back with a thick wad of damp paper towels. You snort at the idea of him suddenly appearing in Seth's kitchen and having to explain himself, but maybe the racket you kicked up right outside his door was explanation enough.
"Seth didn't give you any shit for stealing his stuff?" you ask as Joel drops to his knees and coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder.
The cold air has already started to leach the warmth from the paper towels, and they feel cool as he slides them along your soiled skin. He huffs out a laugh.
"Nah, the kitchen was empty. Think they're startin' to close up for the night."
When he finishes your first thigh, he surprises you by leaning in to press a soft kiss against your freshly cleaned skin. He nips at you teasingly before starting on the next one.
You hum in response, threading your fingers through his hair and watching fondly as he pays careful attention to his task. He continues to wipe away his drying release, trailing his lips down your thigh as he goes, until he finishes at your knee.
He gazes up at you with a charmingly crooked grin, and that’s when it finally slips out. The single coherent thought you’ve been waiting for.
“I love you, Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingertips across his cheek.
His smile falters. Then, it drops completely and your heart shatters. You don’t understand. But that—no. No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. After everything that’s happened, how could you have been wrong again?
Joel sighs, grimacing as he slowly gets back up. He braces himself on one knee, clearly aching more than he's letting on, but when you reach down to offer him a hand, he refuses your help.
“S’fine, I got it. Just…,” he gestures to your jeans, still hanging loosely around your knees. You pull them up, fighting not to feel humiliated as he rises to his full height.
You search his eyes for…something. Anything. Any indication of what he’s feeling right now, but they’re blank. Cold and distant, just like they were the night he left you.
No. He doesn’t get to do this to you again. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not without an explanation. Not if he doesn’t want to lose you forever.
“Tell me why you broke up with me."
For a long time, you genuinely believed you could live without knowing the truth, but somewhere along the line, it began to eat away at you. Now, you want the real reason. He owes you that, at the very least.
You wait while he either works himself up to it or tries to figure out what bullshit to tell you this time. Once his hands settle on his hips, you know with absolute certainty it's the latter.
“Darlin’…,” he starts wearily, but you shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. He doesn't get to call you that right now, and he knows it. Pausing, he nods grimly before beginning again. "We already talked about this. I’m no good for ya. It was only a matter of time before ya woke up one day and realized it for yourself.”
There it is. That same bullshit reason. You scoff bitterly, not surprised in the slightest.
“What the fuck does that even mean, Joel? We were together for years. If that was gonna happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?" you counter angrily.
You're trying not to get emotional. This can't be a repeat of what happened last time, but it's dragging up too many painful memories. It's always the same fight. You can't do this anymore.
"You know what? Fuck you," you seethe as your self-control slips completely. "Fuck you for making that decision for me. You had no right."
At your words, his face crumples and he has the nerve to look ashamed. Maybe even a little hurt. His pained expression makes your heart ache, yet a nastier part of you believes it's only fair that he feels this way, too. He sighs, his eyes dropping wistfully to his feet.
“I did what I thought was best," he mumbles quietly as if he doesn't want to be heard. It's hard for him to say this out loud, and you realize it's because he's finally telling you the truth. "I just…I thought you’d be happier with someone else, someone who could give ya a family. Kids. I gave you up so you could have the life ya always wanted."
You eye him incredulously. The life you always wanted? Sure, you and Joel had toyed with the idea of having a family once upon a time, but that was never a dealbreaker. He should've known that. He should've brought it up before deciding to destroy your life together over an idealized fantasy.
“Oh, here we go. Joel, the fucking savior. Mr. Fix-It, swooping in to save everyone and solve every problem," you hurl back venomously. But it was a cruel thing to say, and you immediately hate yourself for it.
Rationally, you know his intentions were kind. He probably even thought he was being selfless. But he hurt you, and, through your tunnel vision, that's all you can see. You push yourself off the wall, stalking closer to where he stands, still refusing to look at you.
"So what, you thought you’d dump me and I’d immediately shack up with some other asshole? Is that really what you think of me?”
His eyes shoot up to yours and his fingers begin to tap restlessly at his sides. Now, you've pissed him off.
“Don't go puttin’ words in my mouth. That ain’t true and you fuckin’ know it," he all but growls, his body shaking with a turbulent combination of frustration and adrenaline.
You're starting to feel it, too. This conversation is overwhelming both of you, but he still hasn't told you everything. There's a piece missing, keeping all of his disjointed reasonings from adding up. He's holding back and it's time for him to stop.
“Then what is, Joel?" you plead with him to give you a definitive answer. One that finally explains why you had to lose everything. Ellie, your home. The love of your life. "What’s the truth?"
Then, everything he's kept bottled up inside and allowed to poison his happiness claws its way out as a single, unwavering statement.
“I’m too fuckin’ old for you!”
The silence that follows his admission is deafening. You watch in shock as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's never yelled like that before or looked so defeated. By something as innocuous as his age.
It isn't something you'd ever considered, not before your relationship and never once during. But he did. His bottom lip starts to tremble as he turns and takes a few steps away from you.
“Every day, I’d watch ya…offerin’ to take more shifts, spendin’ time at the school with Ellie and the kids," he says softly, shaking his head as he works through his next words. "And every day, I’d feel it. My body givin’ out on me, more and more. My blood pressure’s up, my goddamn knees are creakin’. Couldn’t even fuckin’ stand up on my own just now."
When he turns back to you, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He feels too far, but you know you can't go to him, yet. He's not finished.
"You can do better than that. You deserve better than that," his voice cracks and your whole world blurs into a wash of colors. “You’re gonna outlive me by a mile. I’m an old man, darlin’. It wasn’t fair for me to keep ya.”
For a while, you just watch each other. Tears overflow and continuously spill down his cheeks and yours, but neither of you moves to wipe them away.
None of this is fair. You're both miserable and heartbroken, perpetually yearning for a love you've told yourselves you can't have. Months ago, Joel made a choice for both of you. You won't make the same mistake he did.
"I didn't want fair, Joel. I wanted you. A life with you...," your face screws up as you fight back a sob, "...the rest of my life with you, however long that is."
Joel takes a tentative step forward, carefully reaching out to touch you, but stops himself before he can get too close. He looks afraid...of you. Scared of the consequences of allowing you back into his heart.
A sob escapes your chest, then, and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly bitterly cold and wanting nothing more than for Joel to hold you. To tell you for the first time since the breakup that he loves you and, regardless of time, won't ever stop.
So, you cross the alleyway and cup his wet cheeks in your hands, wiping away his sadness and, hopefully, his fears. He melts into the poignant familiarity of your touch and it makes you brave. This time, you'll be brave enough for both of you.
"Don't I deserve that?" you whisper, close enough to share his next breath. He watches your lips, hanging onto your every word. "Don't you?"
His eyes meet yours, and it finally happens. The moment Joel gives in and decides to let himself be happy. He nods slowly in your grasp, reaching up to cradle your hand on his cheek.
"Dunno what I deserve, darlin'. Not after the things I've done and the hurt I put ya through. But if I'm...if this is really what ya want...," he hesitates, his voice thick with tears and, yet, still that full-bodied, twang that sounds like home. "I'm yours. 'Til my last breath, I'm yours."
He kisses you before either of you can start crying again, and it's all there. The love he kept under lock and key to protect you, released from the prison of his own making.
His kiss feels different again. There's no hunger or rush, and the possessiveness—the need to devour everything you have to give so there's nothing left for anyone else—is gone. He's sure, now, that there's no one else you'd rather give yourself to.
His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer, crushing you into time-worn chambray and sullied denim as you continue to explore each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Two lovers learning to give and take for the first time. Time passes slowly in this space you've carved out for yourselves, even as the moon continues to rise in the night sky and floods the corridor with light.
Then, noisily and as if right on cue, the last-call crowd stumbles from the bar and immediately catches what the previous group missed. You and Joel separate, dazed but unhurried, to find that it's them.
It has to be fucking kismet that, of everyone in Jackson, the first to witness your reconciliation would be the biggest blabbermouths in the entire town. The same women who talked shit about you every day for months and constantly vied for Joel's attention, standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws.
Their varied expressions almost make you want to laugh, and you can't help but snort unattractively into Joel's shoulder. Half of them are glaring at you, and the rest look either devastated or genuinely surprised. Guess you were better at hiding your arrangement than you thought, not that it matters anymore. It's a relationship again, and everyone's about to know all about it. Joel clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him.
"Evenin', ladies. S'there somethin' we can help ya with?" he drawls, breaking out the Southern charm that endeared every single one of them to him in the first place.
They all shake their heads, looking a little too pleased with themselves once the initial shock wears off and they realize you've just given them the gossip of the century. After a few fake, high-pitched pleasantries, they slink away as quickly as they came, already chatting to themselves about some shit you'll definitely hear tomorrow at breakfast. You watch them go, feeling oddly liberated.
"Guess the cat's outta the bag, huh?" You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, still chuckling softly to yourself. Joel huffs out a laugh, too, bending down to kiss the crown of your head before nodding in agreement.
"'Fraid so," he muses, amusement and a hint of something lighter glinting in his eyes.
You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time. As he holds you in his arms, he leans a fraction of his weight on you to ease the night's strain on his back and knees, and it makes you feel needed. Relied on. That's new, Joel depending on you like this. Things are going to be different this time around, you can tell. They already are.
You hum, ruminating on what awaits you after your first night back in your own bed, in your own home. What everyone will think and say—to your face and behind your back—when they find out you're back together. Though, the only opinions you give a shit about are Ellie, Tommy, and Maria's, anyway.
So, yeah, you're a lot of things right now: exhausted, yet relieved and so full of hope. But you're not afraid, the cat and the bag be damned.
"I'm not," you tell him honestly as you pull away. You let your hands trail from his shoulders, down his arms, until his hands are in yours.
Tugging gently, you walk him backward out of the alley, away from the bar and plummeting winter chill, and any lingering, prying eyes. Even the moon and stars have no stake in what comes next. This moment, right here and now, belongs to you and Joel, alone.
"Take me home, Joel."
The light in his eyes burns brighter, amusement giving way to adoration and contentment. He's been waiting for this, to be given the privilege of keeping you safe and taking care of you the way he needs to—it's how he shows love.
He slots his fingers between yours and leads you down the empty streets of Jackson.
"Darlin', nothin' would make me happier."
thanks for reading!
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller angst#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#pedro pascal characters
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got angst on the brain thinking about shy!r getting torn up by tabloids when her and rockstar!eddie go public with their relationship, like how would eddie comfort her or stick up for her? is there anyone else they know that would support their relationship and try to help get the press of their backs?
rockstar!eddie x assistant!reader's first tabloid scare. alexa play nothing else matters by metallica.
At first, you're distracted by seeing your boyfriend on the cover of Metal Hammer when you pass the newstand on your way to your boss' office.
He's there pictured in all of his glory, wielding his guitar on stage, all wild eyes and sweat. You try to keep your smile to yourself as you reach out to take a closer look at the magazine, taking it in hand. That's when you notice the girl behind the small counter looking at you.
You struggle to make eye contact, but there's something about the way she's looking at you, like she's trying to recognize you. She's young, you can tell. Bright pink blush on her cheeks, neon scrunch high on her hair, couldn't be older than seventeen. There was no way she knew you, you'd never seen her before.
When you continue to keep your head down, she finally speaks up. "Is that you?"
The girl points to another magazine, stacked together with all the other gossip and tabloids. Printed on the cover is a picture of you and Eddie, leaving his apartment in the city. Your face is there, clear as day, and so is Eddie's, though his is the most recognizible one.
Trembling, you leave one magazine behind and open the one you're on, and finally finding the article in it. There's more paparazzi pictures from that same day, and the comments on that article are not the nicest. Who are you? Who is this mystery girl? She's not a model, she's not an actress, she's not a socialite. Isn't he out of her league? What is he doing with a girl like that? Was that only a one night stand? It better be, though Eddie Munson used to keep better company in his bed.
"Fuck." You curse, only a whisper as you walk away. Away from that vile article, from the violation of your privacy, from the look of pity of the girl at the newstand.
Finding the nearest payphone is a hassle when your legs are shaking, your heart feels like it will burst from your chest, and your trying to keep the tears at bay. You try not to think too much about how wanted Eddie to be here. Not that he would know what to do, but he would know just how to hold you to keep you from falling apart, and that would be enough.
That fact was you weren't being careful. After you became official, you just stopped hiding. There was no reason to in your minds, all the people who mattered already knew, it wasn't anyone else's business. You were naive, both of you, but you blamed yourself the most. You should have known better, having worked in this industry for long enough to know what happens in cases like this.
It seemed like your entire body was shaking by the time Eddie answered the phone. Hearing his voice didn't make you feel better, though. It only made you feel worse.
"Hey, Eds. Do you have to talk?"
"Always have time for you, baby. What's up?" You could picture the boyish grin on his face. Probably sitting on the couch of his uncle's new house, the one Eddie bought for him as soon as he got his first big check after their debut album's sales skyrocketed. You wanted to crawl on his lap, then, and never leave.
"I'm gonna call you back from the office. It's... kind of an urgent matter. Is that okay? Just stay beside the phone."
In those situations, you didn't know how, but you were always able to keep your composure. Your voice didn't betray you, but Eddie knew. He knew your tells from miles away, through the telephone chords.
"What happened? Talk to me."
It was enough to break through your walls. You grab the phone a little tighter, press yourself closer to the booth. "They know about us. The press, and I guess everyone else at this point. We need a contigency plan, something to steer away attention, I don't know..."
"Are you okay?" Eddie interrupts. "Are you safe? Where are you?"
"I'm okay, I promise." Your voice sounds a lot smaller than you wanted it to. You try to sound strong to not worry Eddie further, but the words on the article keep running around your head. Were you really not good enough for him? Probably not. Definitely not. "These people are fucking mean, though." You whine.
You hear some shuffling on the other end, and then a little bit of silence before Eddie speaks up again. "Here's what you're gonna do. You're not gonna listen to whatever bullshit they're saying, whatever it is. We know what's real, we know about us, and that's all that matters. What matters is that I love you, okay?"
"I love you too." You manage to say, not trusting your voice to say anything else.
"We've been through this once, we got through it, we're gonna do it again."
"I know. I'm just... scared. I'm supposed to be anonymous, you know? A backstage person. Your job is to be in the spotlight, not mine."
"Then I'm gonna get you out of that goddamned spotlight, you hear me? I'm getting on the next plane there. Stay with Rick, have him deal with this. I'll be there in no time, I promise, sweetheart."
The noise of the city around you seems to dim as you focus on his reassurance. The breath you let out is shaky, but it has some relief in it. You knew what to do.
"I promise, okay?" Eddie doubles down on it. If he was there, he'd make you lace your pinky with his, you're sure of it.
"Okay."
#i got carried away 🫶🏼#nothing else matters#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson blurb
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SOMETHING'S NOT RIGHT IS AVAILABLE TO PREORDER!
The debut collection returns in a special fifth anniversary edition, repackaged with three new short stories, a new cover, and additional bonus content.
A vampire is forced into a compromising situation; a father fears his child's growing plant collection; the undead go to high school; a butcher contemplates whether or not she can be loved. In a captivating debut, yves. opens the door to our world, slightly askew-- a world where the crows work for witches and the telephone booths serve as secret channels for prophecy; a world where a diverse cast of monsters and humans alike are forced to contend with what the world believes is right.
Something's Not Right, described by GoodReads reviewers as "delicious," "expertly crafted," and "relentlessly queer," may be releasing in a week on October 10, 2023... but did you know you can preorder digital copies on Amazon and itch.io right now? As for physical, you can now preorder SIGNED copies from Bookshop Santa Cruz! There's a virtual launch party day of, an in-person book talk that Thursday (the 12th), and all sorts of surprises to come. (And if you can't afford a copy, ARCs are available for request up to release!)
To celebrate, we're having a little blog tour across several beloved writeblrs, each of whom have their own contributions. I'm so excited to be able to geek out over their posts in public!!
Posting schedule:
October 4th - Emma @lazarusemma (moodboard)
October 5th - Rook @peppermintlark (recipes)
October 6th - Piya @onomatopiya (top 5 stories)
October 7th - שבת קודש
October 8th - Max @goose-books (fan presentation)
October 9th - Yah Yah @fluoresensitive (playlist)
Thank you so much to everyone who volunteered! An extra special thank you to Emma @lazarusemma and Rook @peppermintlark specifically, as they were pinch hitters and rather than signing up they merely, so to speak, had greatness thrust upon them. Please send them many chocolates.
It's a magical world out there, Dear Readers—let's go on tour!
#blog tour#book release#indie book release#bookblr#writeblr#writblr#writeblr community#booklr#writeblr promo#indie writers#something's not right#snr2#snr blog tour#important writing updates#txt#queer fantasy#lgbt fantasy#trans fantasy#queer books#lgbt books#trans books#writers on tumblr#fantasy books#indie authors#readblr#vampire books#'Why did you take Shabbat off but not Shemini Atzeret' many reasons primarily that I forgot but I'll have to rebagel Max after...#WHOOPSIE but if you knew what my life was like right now.
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"The largest, quickest, and most devastating pandemic in all of human history was the influenza epidemic whose first of three waves began in Kansas in March 1918, and recurred in ever widening and more mortal forms in the autumn and the winter. Yet, this epidemic is distinguished from others by a second reason, the historical amnesia - a virtual blackout of memory - that has greeted it in subsequent generations. Its historian summarizes: "Nothing else - no infection, no war, no famine - has ever killed so many in as short a period. And yet it has never inspired awe."
Between 22 and 30 million people were killed in a year. Half a million of these were in the United States whose troop-ships carrying young men to the Western Front of Europe during World War I, in conditions that were floating test tubes of the virus, brought the 'flu to France, then Germany, England, and Russia, and from the European continent the virus was transmitted along the sea-lanes of European imperialism to Latin America, to West Africa, to India (where 12 million died), to China, Japan, and the Pacific islands. More were killed by the epidemic than were killed by the Civil War or World War I Which Robert Graves called "the Sausage Machine, because it was fed with men, churned out corpses, and remained firmly screwed in place."
The age specific mortality curve of the epidemic was shaped more like a 'W' than a 'U' which is to say that those in the strong middle years of life were as affected, and more so, than the very young or very old. This characteristic deeply worried the official macroparasitic institutions which relied on those in their middle years to produce, to reproduce, and to fight. To them, not so much life, as production and reproduction was the worry. Henry Cabot Lodge was concerned about the productivity of munitions plants. In March 1,000 workers at the Ford Motor Company fell sick. The number of rivets driven per day at the Philadelphia shipyards fell at a rate that alarmed the war producers. The equivalent of two combat divisions of the AEF, or the American Expeditionary Force ("Ass End First"), were incapacitated in France. 40% of U.S. Navy personnel were affected. 37 life insurance companies omitted or reduced their annual stock dividends. The macroparasites and the microparasite were thus in mortal competition for the bodies of the healthy ones in middle life, and that for another reason too. As an air-borne infection, "the rich died as readily as the poor."
(...)
500 were arrested in New York on "Spitless Sunday." Large gatherings were prohibited. Telephone booths were padlocked. Public water fountains were closed. In San Francisco face masks were required to be worn. Cash tellers were equipped with finger bowls. A municipal ordinance of Prescott, Arizona, adopted a suggestion from an obscure newspaper by the Fascist, Benito Mussolini, making it a crime to shake hands. The Army Surgeon General reported that "civilization could easily disappear from the earth."
The middle point of the 'W' grew and as a result the famous 'Lost Generation' of despairing American writers came into being, and yet with the exception of Katherine Anne Porter none wrote about the 'flu epidemic. Was this massive, social, denial? Was this male chauvinism? Was this a sequela of the disease's "profound systemic depression"? They are important, unanswered questions.
Katherine Anne Porter synthesized the times, the creation of the 'new man,' and the 'new woman.' As Prohibition loomed guys started sporting hip flasks, and the new woman took up the cigarette - alcohol and nicotine, traditional responses, since the 1790s, towards epidemics. The government-issue wristwatch became the emblem of the urban individual; it became essential to the urban-and-factory planning of the Twenties. The government drive for money (War Bonds) was the only occasion of permitted gathering, and that under the slogan "Give 'till it Hurts." Indeed, "Sacrifice" was the watchword for the soldier and the 'new' woman alike: give money, give your time, give your labor, give you life."
-Peter Linebaugh, "Lizard Talk: Or, Ten Plagues and Another - An Historical Reprise in Celebration of the Anniversary of Boston ACT UP" (1989)
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WAKE UP NEW MARIUS CARD JUST DROPPED PLS I NEED TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS IM GOING CRAZY
HI OMGDFGK I WAS IN A MEETING WHEN THE PV DROPPED FHHFAKFF FUCK
MANY THOUGHTS AND THEY'RE ALL FILTHY. man be looking fine and sexy as fuck in that first pic. reminding us that he RICH RICH. the way he looks so matured too like he's absolutely giving rich DILF vibes. we'd be fucking in every corner of that limo on every surface until all the windows are fogged up and the whole car shakes
AND HE LOOKS ANGRY TOO i'm guessing it has something to do with them finally going public with their relationship(?). but fuck. angry marius can take me in every way possible. he can destroy me and i'd thank him
and also the second pic omfg the kabedon against the telephone booth and in the rain so you know they wet but i know for sure my girl is DRENCHED MMMMM. the SIZE DIFFERENCE TOO. she's so smol with his suit around her and the way he's so fucking tall towering over her like that. TIL' THE PHONE BOOTH BREAKS
when she tiptoes to kiss him brokdfhgjhdg i'm screaming. the thing about marirosa is the sexual tension on top of it being soft too i'm going insane i'll scream about it more when i'm off work WE'RE SO FED
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Kylie
Kylie Minogue, Preface Chris Heath
Booth-Clibborn Editions, London 1999, 152 pages, Hardcover, 26x38,7cm, ISBN 978-1861541376
euro 80,00
email if you want to buy [email protected]
A self-portrait of Kylie Minogue featuring her many different personas, public and private, both reflected in the eyes of others and as seen by herself. Kylie combines collaborative portrayals alongside media representations to convey the strange fragmentation of self that occurs in the lives of international media icons.
This personal book, prefaced by Kylie, includes a text developed through conversation with her by renowned music journalist Chris Heath. Alongside this, artists, photographers, writers, academics, pop stars and actors give their response to Kylie in words and pictures.
The book also includes visual material taken from Kylie's own archives, dating from early "Neighbours" memorabilia documenting the worldwide Charlene phenomenon such as telephone cards and t-shirts, to fan snapshots, off-the-cuff portraits, a visual discography, as well as more recent photographic shoots with some of the world's top photographers including Ellen von Unwerth and Stephanie Sednaoui.
13/12/23
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pls xiaoting smut w male reader
Risque
Kep1er's Shen Xiaoting x Male Reader Smut
Categories: semi-public sex; slight exhibitionism; anal; daddy kink; revenge sex(?)
Nothing could describe the joy I feel at finally being able to post with curly quotation marks. Enjoy the little things.
Thanks to @sinswithpleasure, @co-reborn, @ggidolsmuts and @writerpeach for helping me out with the Chinese parts!
As careless as the nature of the act was, it was actually planned beforehand by the two of you, almost as if it were some kind of important meeting composed of the most powerful people in the world. The location and time were also talked over days before it happened, as well as the number that would be jotted down on the buttons by a would-be hot and bothered Shen Xiaoting.
She was the one who initiated the conversation, after all. She was the one who nervously confessed to you what she was scheming after you expressed your concern over the unusual amount of time she spent spacing out. When she had finished illustrating to you her plan, you were stunned to say the least. But Xiaoting waited for the dead silence to make way for your approval.
Despite your love for your girlfriend, you had to be honest with her. You called it petty revenge. This was something only ignorant teenagers would dream up of to make their oblivious crushes “jealous”. That's so fucking immature, you said. Childish too, you said. Haven't you moved on yet? But you had to admit that you got the winning end in this; all you had to do was two very easy things: open and close the door of the phone booth when you got there, then have Xiaoting in any way you wanted.
The offer was too tempting. So, despite the angel on your shoulder urging you to do the right thing, you agreed.
But(t) you were definitely going to “do” the right thing anyway, you thought, as you eyed Xiaoting's rear end while she walked in front of you. God, it looked even more gropeable in those black leather jeans. Just the sight of that ass could cause eighteen car crashes in this city and probably an uproar from horny journalists.
You did not hold back a playful spank. Xiaoting was surprised, but then giggled and scolded you, telling you to wait just a bit more. “It isn’t very far from here now, you know,” she told you, booping your nose.
She was right; just a few more steps led you and Xiaoting to a phone booth by brown wood. It held an old telephone of the same color on its walls, which were decorated by vintage movie posters and signs. The movies they promoted were several decades old already. One of them showed a surprised Marilyn Monroe, and a full-body shot of her under large red letters spelling out one of her classics.
Just by those posters, you could tell this was not like any of the other booths that stood before it. This was the telephone booth, the special one in which you would perform Xiaoting’s plan with her.
You took two cautious looks at your surroundings. Once the few people that passed by were distracted enough by their phones, newspapers, or rowdy children, you quickly ushered Xiaoting into the booth.
Once you entered and closed the door, the lust overtook you. You had been trying to keep it to a behaved amount during the walk here, but now that you were offered a space where you could safely let it out,you realized you just had to make use of it.
You pinned Xiaoting against the wall roughly. The tightness of the place didn't help make moving around easy. But what prodded you on was the satisfied smile Xiaoting made before she ordered you:
“Kiss me.”
You leaned in and did what she asked. Her hands curled around the sides of your face while yours did so on her wide hips. Both of you immediately felt warm from just a kiss, but Xiaoting let the untamed lust she shared with you take control of the kiss; she constantly sought a deeper connection, greedily holding you close and letting the French kiss birth an insatiable hunger inside her.
Tongue twisted around tongue and trailed across the perfect pair of pink lips. Wet saliva accented the hot gaspy breaths and sighs that were lost in the passionate kiss. Xiaoting could feel herself getting wetter and wetter by the second, making her whimper helplessly with each lock of your lips. But you aided her horniness by constantly rubbing your knee at her core clothed by the tight leather.
Xiaoting's loud moans started to fill the air. You helped add more to those luscious sounds by giving her kisses that were hot on her neck. Several were placed here on her pretty throat and one at her sharp jaw. Another sneaky kiss was given to her collarbone which you swore was carved by the gods themselves. You licked along the line it drew and watched how Xiaoting desperately rode your knee for friction, gasping at your hands sliding down her curves and grabbing her tits over the tight gray tube top.
“Hmm, hngmh, oh fuck, baby.” She whimpered at the satisfying sensation of your hands dutifully kneading her ass. She rocked back and forth on your knee, and you would forever find it impossible to describe how hot your girlfriend looked rolling her tight, slender body lewdly against you for more of the sinful pleasure. The way her hips swayed in circles was hypnotizing.
You looked up at Xiaoting although her eyes were slightly lidded due to the dizzying pleasure. “Still wanna go on with the plan?”
Your teeth clamped around her earlobe and sucked on it. Xiaoting cursed softly, a sound that was quiet yet added fuel to the fire that was your raging lust.
Took a look at her thighs and ass in those jeans and realized what a waste it would be not to spank her through the leather. You spanked her once, and she trembled. Continuing evoked several whimpers from her. Each slap got her dangerously turned on. Just the feeling of the pain stinging her skin made her clit pulse needily. She could already feel her panties getting ruined.
“More.”
You smiled; you were happy to give her what she asked for. You felt around her crotch area and slapped her pussy that was sure to be soaked right now to get her even more worked up.
“Y-yes,” she replied weakly. You weren't sure if that was an answer to your question or an approving moan to your spanking. “That's the whole point of this after all.”
“Hmph, fine. I still think it's petty.”
“So what?” Xiaoting raised her eyebrow at you feistily before typing in the number. "Doesn't he deserve to know how much better you fuck me? How much better you treat me after I put up with all his shit?”
“Hm, maybe.”
You tugged off her jacket to get a full view of her in the tube top. She looked hotter than you expected; her beautiful arms and shoulders looked delicious exposed like that. It almost seemed like the top was specifically created for her with the way it perfectly accented her bust and body. The fabric hugged her tits and torso while letting you get a peek of her tight midriff AKA the second best place to cum on.
“God, Xiaoting, you're so fucking sexy.”
Xiaoting flashed you a feisty smile as she held the telephone to her ear, cocking her head to the side.. “I know.”
Her hips rolled in lewd circles so that her ass could meet your hands easily. You could tell that all the heavy petting and kissing had gotten her all hot and bothered. She was becoming more and more desperate for you, and she was not at all ashamed to show it.
With just one downward zip, her jeans fell to the ground along with her panties. You took those and her suddenly intimidating eyes as signs that she wanted you to take her as roughly as you would in the bedroom, even with the semi-public space the two of you were in.
And who were you to refuse her?
Xiaoting groped your erection playfully before she undid your pants as well. They soon joined hers in a pool of fabric on the floor. She eagerly watched you align your shaft with her entrance, admiring your size as if it was your first time with her all over again.
You pushed forward.
Xiaoting threw her head back, causing the pop art posters on the wall to partially fall off. You let out a grunt to show that you were stunned too; her cunt was as tight as her body was, as wet as the kisses you laid upon her skin. The tightness clung to you even as you started moving, like it was begging you to stay nestled inside her silken pussy.
You decided to set a steady pace. Her pulsating pussy hugged your rod tighter as you performed blunt thrusts aimed upwards. Xiaoting's mouth hung open as she could only savor the satisfying rubs your cockhead did at the right spots and your veins did to her walls.
“Ohhh my god. This feels so fucking good.”
You and Xiaoting started kissing again. Your tongue curled upwards to explore the roof of her mouth briefly before twisting around her tongue again. You constantly provoked deep sighs from her with your steady fucking and lips, which had already memorized the paths they took to her neck, cheek, and shoulders.
Her deep and sultry moans were your main motivations. But what strangely motivated you even more in this situation was the sound of Xiaoting’s ex picking up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Oh fuck. Oh!” Xiaoting could barely cope with your suddenly swift thrusts. Her eyes were shut as she held onto the telephone for dear life. “H-hi, Rich. It's, hah, been so… l-long, hasn’t it?”
Her broken voice was a familiar sound to him. “Xiaoting?” Rich asked in disbelief. “Is that you?”
You beginning to pepper kisses on her neck and shoulders wasn't helpful at all, but that was the point, wasn't it? To make it sound obvious that she was getting railed right now and that it felt so much better than when he did it to her?
You drove her into the wall with each deep plug of your dick in her wet pussy. Xiaoting’s mewls just told you that she loved the way you stretched it out and pushed it to its limits. You watched how the swollen lips welcomed you by swallowing your member and keeping its grip vice-like and how her tiny hole was forced apart to let you in. Through all that, Xiaoting's fingers maintained their deathly grip on the telephone.
“Yes! Just wanted to drop by.”
“I missed you. I didn't know you’d actually call me like I asked you.”
Wait, so that fucker tried to contact her even before Xiaoting made the plan? Maybe you should have agreed to the plan from the start.
You were furious. Xiaoting was yours, and yours only. Nothing would change that. Definitely not a desperate text message from a lonely guy from her past.
You started to amplify your thrusts. Xiaoting yelped in surprise, holding onto the phone tighter. She shut her eyes in endurance as you began to suck at the pulse point on her neck. She crowned your head with her palm and pushed it closer for more.
“I didn't either. There won't be another time though. I—”—her moan was breathy now, probably because of your thumb on her clit—”can't do this properly… he's fucking me too well… oh god, daddy!”
Once her lips had let slip of your title, your feral instincts came out. They told you to give this brat a good pounding, to use her body hard and rough to let her ex seethe with the same jealousy you felt whenever somebody ogled at your girlfriend like you weren't there with her. They told you to go batshit crazy.
You couldn't take it anymore. You bent Xiaoting over, twisting her body so that she had to lie with her stomach flat on the desk. There, you plowed into her unforgivingly. Xiaoting let a scream slip through her lips, accidentally dropping the telephone because her hands were wrapped in your fist and pinned behind her back. But unfortunately for Rich, the phone still dangled near her mouth. Rich could still hear everything that was going on.
You lifted your hand as high as you could then slapped her ass with it. She cried out, more wetness gushing forth. Another slap rendered her babbling incoherently. Her butt started to roll in circles to meet your ministrations, asking for more of the pain and pleasure that came with your forceful blunt humps on her leaking pussy and the harsh spanks.
It was fascinating to see how weak Xiaoting became for you in just a matter of minutes. Just a while ago, she was strolling around the city of Seoul with confidence and self-assurance. But now? Oh, how greatly things have changed. She had transformed into your dumb, babbling slut, leaking from her used pussy and her pink lips.
“Xiaoting?” Rich asked with concern. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Rich was such a dumb fuck. That was probably why Xiaoting left him. Of course she was far from okay! Her insides were being wrecked mercilessly by your length and girth while she was being spanked over and over. Couldn’t he hear her screaming like her life depended on it?
You let him know what was going on by giving Xiaoting back to back spanks. Each one stung your palm, but you kept doing it for the sake of hearing Xiaoting’s cries of pain and seeing her ass cheeks turn almost as red as her pretty face. A hand mark was already imprinted on her right cheek, and even that didn’t stop you from hitting that bubble butt.
“Oh god… oh, yes!” she cried out. “I mean, yes, I'm okay. D-don't worry about it. How are you?"
She was still trying to keep up the act. That wouldn't do at all; you made it your goal to make her as breathless as possible, furthering the yank of your hips so your cock could sheathe itself deeper inside her cunt. You forced your thick tip to travel all the way to her cervix and stimulated all the right spots with your veiny girth.
“I'm doing alright, Xiaoting. I missed you so much. I—”
“Fuck!”
Xiaoting was forced to rudely interrupt her ex again as her uncontrollable sobs resurfaced when you reached from behind her to stimulate her nub. Her hips spasmed and stuttered, moving in the same direction as your quick rubs that created an obscene wet sound. She could barely grab onto something to keep herself stable because her hands were fastened in between your curled fingers at her back. So her body could only rock continuously back and forth, to and fro, left and right—trying to get away from you at once but begging desperately for more too.
“Ah! Ah! Fuck, daddy, it’s so deep!” No matter how hard Xiaoting tried to keep herself together despite your drilling, she always came undone. “D-daddy, daddy, I’m going to cum, I'm going to cum, I'm going to—”
Squirming and scrambling, Xiaoting broke into a mess of guttural screams and foreign curses. Her screams of pleasure almost overpowered the sounds of your hips slapping her ass and your groans. Her legs buckled as she came hard, losing all feeling in her legs although the pleasurable feeling still kept overwhelming her pussy.
“Daddy! Daddy, too much! Too much!”
Too much, she complained, but you knew Xiaoting liked it that way. So you crossed the lines that were probably never drawn in the first place and pounded her harder. Faster in order to drain your twin balls knocking against her pussy with each rough shove.
Soon the walls wrapping around your dick contracted tighter, and Xiaoting started to whine helplessly in pitchy Chinese, something you knew very well was a sign that she was—
"小婷受不了了啦！！"
Xiaoting was squirting. Showers of girl cum started to wet the floor. It increased the abundant arousal leaking out of her pussy which helped you drive into her even with the tightness.
It was all so fucking hot to witness: Xiaoting, her face red, becoming unable to endure anymore and resorting to cursing dirtily in Chinese while she dirtied the phone booth floor with her cum. She was going insane, the lust making her struggle in your grip and cling onto your cock. The grasp of her walls onto you was enough to milk you dry.
“Xiaoting, you’re so fucking tight,” you said, gritting your teeth as you put more force into your pounding. “You're going to make daddy cum, babygirl.”
Her mouth directly next to the telephone, Xiaoting whined and cried out: “Yes, please, daddy! Paint your babygirl's pussy with your load! She’s nothing but a cumdump, nothing but your cumdump!”
Now that you had her permission, you were filled with determination. You were determined to show that pathetic ex of hers that Xiaoting is yours. You were determined to let him hear how good she felt now that she was with you. Let him hear you claiming her.
“Yes! Your cum feels so warm in me, daddy!” Xiaoting made sure to say loudly to the mouthpiece of the telephone. “You fuck me so well, please give me another of your load!”
“Oh, I will, but this time, I'll do it on your round bubble butt.”
Xiaoting practically blushed in excitement. Anal with you was always a great experience. Rich would surely be jealous since he had never dared to try that with her.
“Xiaoting,” said Rich, this time with a sharpness to his voice, “this isn’t funny. Do you think this would make me any happier?”
“Oh my god!”
Xiaoting was deaf to his words. She was too focused on the sensation of her puckered hole being, as promised, invaded by your dick. You almost let out a louder-than-usual groan at how much tighter her ass was. This was going to be harder than fucking her pussy that was almost virgin-like with the way it contracted on your dick.
You sat back onto the wooden seat and pulled Xiaoting onto your lap. She squealed in surprise, but made sure to grab the telephone and hold it near your bodies thrusting and grinding on one another for gratification. That way, Rich could clearly hear everything, from the slapping and groaning to her ecstatic screams and cries.
An example of that would be:
“Haah! Hngmh! Oh!”
Your hands on her hips, you slammed Xiaoting up and down your dick. Her pussy juices slipped down to your dick colliding with her asshole, serving as supple lube to make it easier for you to fuck her. Xiaoting breathlessly aided the leak by filling her pussy with her own fingers. She gasped girlishly at how it being penetrated in her two holes at the same time felt: heavenly.
“You’re… so! fucking! big! in my ass, daddy!” said Xiaoting, shouting every time your thrusts took a sharper turn. "And, and my pussy's still leaking with your cum. Please creampie and make my asshole sore too, daddy!"
Xiaoting's fingers dipped repeatedly inside her cunt. They entered to fill every corner of the tight slit and exited with white dripping from them. Her asshole tightened every three seconds because of the doubled pleasure, motivating you to stretch her bubble butt out till it was as sore as her pussy.
Her tits wildly bounced up and down, two fat pillows of tempting flesh that struggled to keep themselves beneath the fabric of the gray top. Xiaoting could only groan in pleasure when you grabbed one bouncing breast and sucked at her neck at the same time. You could feel her hard nipple sliding against your palm. You pinched and toyed with it gladly while your lips left smooches all over her skin.
She wiggled her ass on your dick in return and leaned her head back on your shoulder. From this angle, you could see her ecstatic face—eyes rolled back but occasionally widening at the impact and mouth agape to shamelessly let the world hear how good she was feeling. Sighs left that very mouth as you ravaged her neck like a hungry vampire. Your teeth and tongue had violated her neck so much that purple marks began to show themselves on the path of gleaming pale skin.
The sex was making it hard to comprehend anything. You were starting to lose your mind—the colors of the posters taped to the booth were a blur, and the sounds of Rich angrily telling Xiaoting off were unheard. All that you understood was your stomach was tightening, a sure sign of your climax coming, and that Xiaoting looked so fucking hot coyly swaying her hips side to side on your dick. Just afew more bounces and you were going to cum.
Xiaoting’s ass rose—
“You think you can hurt me with this, Xiaoting? I’ve been hurt worse by better!—”
—and descended,—
“—It’s not fucking funny! I’ve been going crazy without you and then you call me up—”
—rose—
“—just to make me listen to your new boyfriend railing you!”
—and—
“Cum in my ass, daddy.”
As if her words were a command you were programmed to automatically obey, you blew your load into the brown ring that was gaping to fit your rod. Your lap was a sticky mess of your semen and Xiaoting’s fluids, but Xiaoting still remained seated on it. Perhaps she thought sitting on the floor was not a better idea than your lap because of your clothes and undergarments stained with her squirt. Or maybe she just liked being daddy’s girl.
The whole place smelled like sex and sweat. Several posters had fallen to the floor and the only chair in the booth was dripping of your cum and your girlfriend’s. Not to mention that a poor old lady was staring at you from the window of the booth with wide traumatized eyes, frozen in place.
However, Xiaoting was unfazed by all the mess. She even crossed one leg over the other, listening to Rich rant about her supposed sluttiness and ungratefulness from the phone.
“And I bet that there’s no romance in that new relationship you have!” Rich angrily yelled. “Just fucking and sleeping! That’s no fucking better than what we had!”
“He just fucked my ass, Rich,” Xiaoting told him matter-of-factly. “Of course he’s better.”
#kpop smut#kepler smut#kep1er smut#shen xiaoting#shen xiaoting smut#xiaoting#xiaoting smut#male reader#reader insert#request
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Hiroshi Nakatsuka
Tancyo-shaped telephone box
The telephone box has a considerable presence. It occupies a third of the footpath and is sandwiched between the construction site on the left, squeezing the footpath space. The two girls in the photo look as if they are talking to each other, saying 'The road is narrow, you go ahead.
This telephone box had a cream-coloured body and a red-painted roof, and was called a 'tancyo-type' in reference to the red-crowned crane. It was introduced in 1954 (Showa 29). However, during the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, glass-fronted, assembled boxes appeared in central Tokyo, and were subsequently deployed nationwide in 1969. They spread rapidly due to the good visibility of the glass wall for security reasons and the ease of installation of the assembled type, and the heavy tancho type telephone boxes were eliminated.
In some rural areas, tancyo-shaped phone booths are still in place as if they were forgotten, and they remained at Ikeba Station on the Iida Line until around 1999.
Incidentally, in 1964, if you put a 10 yen coin in the public telephone, you could make a local call without any time limit. This led to problems with long calls occupying public telephones, and from 30 January 1970 the rate for local calls on public telephones was set at 10 yen for 3 minutes. The image of people piling up ten-yen coins on public telephones to make calls is a post-1970 story.
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David & Maureen Smith, 1965 C)(C
Ian Brady had been grooming the younger David Smith, whom he saw as a potential accomplice to assist with bank robberies and murder. Brady and girlfriend Myra Hindley had already killed four children and buried their bodies in the Yorkshire Moors. After Smith married Myra’s younger sister, Maureen, the four became tight.
On the evening of 6 October 1965, Brady brings 17 year old Edward Evans home “for a drink” (translation: To rape and murder him)
Mid-murder, Brady asks Myra to call Dave and get him over. He arrives shortly after with a bottle of red wine. He would soon become the prime witness in the Moors Murders case.
Brady, a depraved psychopath had invited Smith over to watch him kill. He wanted to impress him but also needed help cleaning up the mess. A hatchet to the head was followed by strangulation with electrical cord. The attack was brutal. Brady sprained his own ankle from the physical force it took to kill Evans, who was much older than previous victims. When Brady asks Smith to help dispose the body, Smith agrees, but would later call police from a public telephone booth.
Although Mr and Mrs Smith were fully exonerated, they became the target of much public abuse. They were physically attacked regularly and evicted from their homes. After stabbing another man during a fight, in an attack he claimed was triggered by the abuse he had suffered since the trial, Smith was sentenced to three years in prison in 1969.
In 1990, the couple would be immortalised on the album cover ‘Goo’, by American band Sonic Youth.
Goo and The Moors Murders
#true crime#serial killers#criminal investigations#crime after crime#Moors murders#David smith#Manchester#Maureen Smith#sonic Youth#Goo#album cover#Maureen Hindley#Ian Brady#Myra Hindley
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