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myownwholewildworld · 20 hours

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THE RIGHT KIND OF WRONG ― dbf!mechanic!joel oneshot

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: dbf!mechanic!joel x f!reader. summary: your car breaks down and you make a deal with your dad's best friend, joel, who happens to be the best mechanic in town. you'll work for him over the summer holidays to pay your debt back, but maybe you can find a pleasant shortcut to it? a/n: well, well, well... what can i say? this whole uniformed!joel shit is giving me proper brain rot. i don't know what came over me while writing this but i just rolled with it. i do appreciate any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated hehe. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. no outbreak AU. juicy age gap (reader is 21, joel is 48). rough, ABSOLUTE filth & i'm not even sorry. some edging. semi-public groping? masturbation (f and m receiving). oral (f and m receiving). pussy pronouns (she/her). unprotected piv. mouth fucking. very mild brat taming kink. transactional sex. alternating pov. reader is female but that's about it. w/c: ~8.9k of pure filth. divider by @cafekitsune

“Ugh, not again, c’mon!”

Your cranky little car did not have it in it anymore. It was almost fifteen years old now, having passed down from your older brother to you when you turned sixteen five years ago. Out of pure frustration, you hit the steering wheel with the palm of your hand and let out a raspy grunt.

The check engine light had lit up on the dash, which was what caused your fit. And then, as if orchestrated by the universe, the engine made a loud, clicking noise. You flattened your forehead against the wheel, your fingers curling around the rubbery texture with a tight grip.

“You stupid car!”, you screamed at it as if it was a sentient being. “I’m broke, you cannot die on me like this!”

You were on the parking lot of a café. Early that afternoon you had met with some friends to celebrate the beginning of summer and the end of the academic year. One more and you would be done with your degree ― it looked so damn far away, but you still had this summer to look forward to.

Rummaging through your purse, you finally located your cellphone and quickly dialled your dad.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, dad. I’m at Betty’s. The fucking light has come on again?!”

“Watch your mouth!”, he reprimanded you from the other side of the line. You could hear him huff and puff with disapproval. “I think your car is on its last legs, gonna have to think about buying one.”

“You know I can’t afford that, all my savings are going into my degree. I’ll just have to get it fixed for now.”

“Take it to Joel’s then. See what he thinks.”

“But it’s a Sunday, you think he’ll be open?”

“That man is a workaholic, you bet his business is open today.”

“Alright, you reckon he’ll do it for free?”

“For free?” He laughed; you could imagine him shaking his head. “I doubt it, but maybe he’ll give you a discount. Gotta go, little bug. I’ll see you at dinner. If you can make it, obviously.” He mocked you.

“Ha, ha… So funny. Talk to you later.” And you hung up.

The drive to Joel’s garage was a fucking torture. Every time the engine made a squealing noise, your heart would jolt to your throat. You tried to encourage it, whispering sweet nothings in the hopes it would get appeased and make it to Joel’s repair shop.

You also got distracted by your filthy mind. Joel had been in your DILF radar since you were nineteen. Three years ago, your dad celebrated his 45th birthday with a barbecue in the middle of summer. Joel had turned up in a white tee shirt, khaki shorts and flipflops, with untamed silvery curls and a crate of beer under his arm.

When the Texan heat became unbearable, he had stripped himself of his clothes, fashioning a pair of short swim trunks that had left you breathless and wet. When you watched him get out of the water later that afternoon, you could have sworn that the tip of his dick had shown briefly before he discreetly tucked it away. That image had been burnt into your retinas and haunted you since then.

Unconsciously you licked your bottom lip, your core molten with slick, as the car came to a halt. You had arrived at your destination.

There was an old Ford at the front of the garage, someone working under the hood. When the driver’s door of your car slammed against the frame, Joel peeked up from the engine he was working on.

His eyes flickered with recognition. He grabbed an old rag to clean his big, veiny hands of grease and oil. You wondered what else would be big and veiny. Stop it, you dirty fucker, you told yourself.

“Hey, Joel!” You waved at him with a smile.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

You rolled your eyes at him, the grin staying on your plump lips.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Joel. Have not been for a long time now, y’know.” You punctuated, unsure of what you were trying to achieve with that comment. Well, you knew, but did not want to admit it to yourself.

“Oh, I know”, he husked, his voice suddenly gruff.

Tilting your head to one side, you looked at him with question marks in your pupils. Why had he accentuated that “know”? And why all the sudden was your cunt gushing? How could he make you wet with three simple words? You were going to need to request a booty call that night from your friend with benefits.

“Uh, uhmm”, you laughed nervously. “The engine light on my car has come on for the third time this week and the motor is making weird noises, could you check it out for me, please?”

“Sure thing, lemme see.” He took the keys from your hand, electricity cracking between you.

You pursed your lips, a gesture he did not pick up on. Joel walked to the driver’s side, activated something and then the hood popped open. He walked around to the front of the car and propped the hood up with the metal rod that was inside.

As Joel was inspecting the motor with his broad hands, you put one foot in front of the other in a vain attempt to rub your knees together and cause some friction in your needy cunt. You squeezed your thighs some more as you watched him work with his hands, and you imagined what it would feel like if he was working you instead.

Oof! Take it down a notch, girl, you thought to yourself when your clit twitched in desperation.

Then Joel turned around to look at you.

“When was the last time you changed the timing belt?”

“The... what now?” Your mind was hazy with lust, but even if you had been at your full mental capacity, you wouldn’t have known what he was talking about.

“The timing belt. In the engine. What ensures that the camshaft and crankshaft rotate in sync?” He looked at you with a cocked brow, cleaning his hands again on that old rag.

Oh, I would pay big bucks to be that rag.

“Are you even speaking English?”, you replied back, partially because you really had no idea what he was talking about, partially because your brain was all mushy with desire.

“I’ll take that as a ‘never’ then. You should really get it replaced, seems like that’s your problem. Have you had trouble starting the car?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, this very morning.”

“Yeah, sounds like it. You need to change it asap, if it breaks while you’re driving it would be bad, very bad. You could have an accident. Also trying to fix it after it’s broken will cost you even more.”

“So… will I need to break the bank?” You asked, already flinching at the idea.

Joel seemed to take a second to consider your options, leaning against the passenger’s door and scratching his scruffy beard.

“It’ll be $800.”

Your heart almost stopped, your mouth agape.

“Eight fucking hundred?” He nodded. “Well, can I― Can you not give me a bit of a discount here? You are best friends with my dad. Pretty please?” You laced your fingers together in a prayer and batted your eyelashes at him.

With a low grunt, he straightened his back and folded arms at his chest.

“I’m already giving you one. I would usually charge $1100. You’re already getting a bargain.”

“Well, what about $300?” You counteroffered.

Joel’s brows knitted together and then loudly scoffed.

“What? You think I’m a fucking charity? No, kiddo. $800 and that’s it. If I go any lower, I’d be losing money. Got a business to run here.”

You really did not have $800 bucks to spare. In fact, you barely had five hundred bucks to your name. Asking your family for money was not an option either ― not because you were proud (you were), but because money was tight. Your parents already had enough struggles as it was, you did not want to add to the pile.

You visibly pouted and stumped one foot against the gravel, vexed. A loud sigh slipped through your lips as you pressed the heel of your hands against your eye sockets. You needed the car.

Dropping your hands to your sides, you looked at Joel with puppy eyes, covering the distance that was between you. Pleading, you palmed his strong forearm, your fingers wrapping around the girth of his muscles.

For a brief second, you wondered if you would be able to fully grip his erection. Would your fingertips be able to touch your thumb? Or would he be so thick you would need both hands to handle him?

“Joel, pl―please?”, you stammered, your arousal playing games with your vocal cords.

Unwillingly, he scanned your body up and down ― slowly, taking his time, pondering his options.

Joel had wanted to fuck you for three years now, since your lustful eyes widened at the sight of only his tip on that dreadful summer day. He could vividly remember the way you had chewed your bottom lip as you watched him slide his cock back in his swim trunks, shamelessly, without blinking. You only stopped devouring him when someone talked to you, snapping out of your trance.

That night, when he got home, he had jerked himself off with you in his mind. He had imagined your plump lips sealed around his glans, the tip of your tongue playfully caressing the slit ― your sparkly eyes looking up at him, dreamy and teary, imploring. He had taken his sweet time, rejoicing in his fantasy, until he had spilled in the palm of his hand, as if he was a hormonal teenager. And every time he would fuck someone to find relief, he would visualize your cunt sheathing him, clamping down on his dick like a beartrap.

Ever since then, every time his eyes landed on you, his blood would boil and his cock would harden. Just like now, dick pounding against his boxers, begging to be paid due attention. With the eyes of his imagination, he saw himself letting go and throwing you into the back of your car, drilling your pussy relentlessly until you came wailing, asking for more.

Joel sucked in his breath ― he needed to calm down, distract himself with something else. You were his best friend’s daughter. He shouldn’t be daydreaming about fucking you stupid. He had seen you grow since you were a babe.

Never thought of you any other way until that fateful barbeque, when he realised you were a full grown ass woman. Suddenly he had seen you for what you were: a fuckable brat who could get his cock rock-hard with the simple lick a of a lip.

An idea formed as you begged him. You looked desperate ― desperate enough to him at least.

Joel cracked his tongue, his expression unwavering. But if you could see, you would know his cock was throbbing already.

“Well. I do have an idea.” His words dragged, his erection making him feel uncomfortable.

“You do? I’m all ears!” You exclaimed with a lopsided grin, your delicate fingers tighter around his forearm.

His head snapped to his right, pointing to a sign that read “Hand Car Wash”.

“If you help out all summer handwashing cars, I’ll consider part of your debt paid”, he explained, looking down at your hand touching him.

“In full?” You eyed him as if he was your goddamn saviour and that unsettled him.

“I said part of it, kiddo. I’ll leave it at $300.”

You batted your eyelashes at him. Did you know that your suggestiveness was wreaking havoc?

“Anything I can do so the $300 reduces to zero?”

“I’ll think about it”, he reluctantly conceded. Joel had a few ideas in mind, but none of them were precisely appropriate. Not for a twenty-one year old to do with a forty-eight year old at least, that was for sure. “Be here tomorrow at 9 AM, sharp. The team works from nine to twelve, Mondays to Fridays.”

You frantically nodded, almost squealing in excitement. The noise you made forced his cock to twitch. He could make you squeal too, only if you would let him.

“I’ll be here! Thanks, Joel.”

Before he could think, you let go of his forearm and hugged him close to your chest. To your round breasts. Those two meaty globes he wanted to palm so badly. He could swear your nipples were stabbing at him. You embraced him so close to your body, his bulge pressed gently against your lower belly, and he wondered if you could feel him.

And then you stepped back. Quickly, too quickly for his liking.

“You’ll need to leave your car here, don’t want you driving back in that junk. I’ll have a look at it tomorrow. I’ll give you a lift back”, he offered. “Lemme close first and I’ll be right back in five minutes.”

“No probs, take your time.” You smiled at him as you went back to your car to grab your things.

Soon you were on the passenger’s seat of Joel’s pickup truck. It was dusking on the horizon, the light scattering through the windshield. Joel put down the visor so he wouldn’t get blinded by the sun.

“So how’s college going?” His attempt at small talk made you smile.

“It’s good, hard but good. The first year was really bad though. I didn’t know anyone there, so had to make friends and everything.” You mentioned, shrugging, while mindlessly playing with your seatbelt.

“I’m sure you had no problems making friends”, Joel said distractedly, checking all the mirrors before turning at the streetlight.

You placed your elbow on the window frame, the back of your head resting on your palm, and you turned to look at him.

“How are you so sure?” You asked, curious to see what his take on you was. The man was like a brick wall.

“You’re so vivacious and talkative. You’re not the shy kind either, always were part of the popular group in high school, weren’t you?” You nodded, but he didn’t see you, all focused on the road ahead. “Bet’cha you have all the boys running after you.”

Well, that was unexpected. For both you and him, because you saw how his jaw clenched. It was almost imperceptible, but you were so aware of his every move, your body so in tune with his, you couldn’t have missed it.

Had he noticed you? Like, actually? Was it possible that Joel fucking Miller, your freaking dad’s best friend, could look at you with other than paternal eyes? Why would he make hat comment otherwise?

Your cunt, still wet from your previous innocent interaction, fluttered. You had no butterflies in your stomach ― they were actually clapping their fragile wings in between your legs. This man was a fucking menace to your senses, and he seemed oblivious to the effect he had on you. Or did he? Time to find out.

You giggled at his question and patted his upper thigh a couple of times, as if he had cracked the best joke you had ever heard. The pad of your fingers almost caressed his groin, that sweet dip where his thigh met his pelvis. The denim under your touch suddenly stretched as Joel flexed his leg, trying to release the tension that had rapidly built up.

You bit your bottom lip as he peered at you askance, your hand still too close to his crotch.

“I actually do, but none of them seem good enough, y’know? I want a man, not a boy”, you ventured, your top teeth sinking further in the soft pillow of your bottom lip.

You saw Joel sucking in his breath ― and the grin in your face grew. He was definitely not immune to you, at least not as much as you had originally thought. He looked so unattainable, always so distant, you had wondered if, in his eyes, you had never grown up.

“Do you now, kiddo?” He asked between gritted teeth, tone throaty.

His brown eyes drifted down for one second, watching the tips of your fingers rubbing the denim of his jeans slightly, and then he locked them back on the road. You heard a low grunt vibrating in his throat, although he tried his best to suppress it.

“Yeah. I’m sick and tired of stupid childish boys. They are just boring now, they lack― well, you know.” You let him brew with your unfinished sentence and removed your hand from his lap.

You could tell Joel finally was able to breathe again as his chest expanded slowly. His reaction to you left a prickling sensation in your pussy ― wet, throbbing, needy. You pressed your knees together, but what you really wanted was for him to reach for you and dunk his thick fingers in your slit.

“Your dad’s there.” He stated, succinct, after clearing his throat.

You looked over your shoulder and through the window to realise that, in fact, you had arrived home. Your father was already waiting for you on the porch, probably because he recognised the noise of Joel’s truck’s exhaust pipe. And then he started walking towards you.

You suppressed a pouting grimace ― you wanted just a few more minutes alone with Joel. A few more moves and, who knew? Maybe you would have him fingering the shit out of you. But thanks to your father, you would never find out.

Your father knocked on the passenger’s window and you rolled it down, smiling. Although what you really wanted to do was smack him for interrupting.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, sweetie. How’s the car?”

“Well…” You looked at Joel ― you had already forgotten what was it that needed replacing.

“The timing belt is going. Bit expensive but your daughter and I have reached an agreement. Will reduce the price for her but she’s gotta come work on the hand-wash business”, he explained, matter-of-factly.

“Sounds ‘bout right. Get your first taste of what the real world is like.” Your dad laughed at his own occurrence, while your mind drifted far, very far.

“I’d love to get a taste.” You answered feigning innocence, turning your face to Joel with a very wide smile painted on your mouth.

His eyes darkened, transfixed on yours. Oh, he knew exactly what you meant. He subtly stirred on his seat and you wanted to giggle so bad, but refrained.

“Hey, Joel. There’s a game on tomorrow night. You wanna come over? Can have something to eat, few beers, will be fun. I need the company, God knows this lady over here just complains while scrolling through her social media”, he pointed towards you with his thumb and you simply rolled your eyes at him.

Watching football with your old man was as boring as it got. However, if Joel Miller was there, he would have your undivided attention. Well, not him, the screen, obviously. Duh.

Your eyes shot to his, expectant. Your cunt was even more anticipative of his answer.

“Yeah, why not?”

Famous last words. That was Joel’s only thought as soon as he entered his best friend’s home. You greeted him at the door, all smiley and welcoming, ignoring the fact that you had been trying to get him hard the. whole. fucking. day.

You had come to work with some very short jeans ― every time you bent down to rub the sponge on the car’s bodywork, the bottom part of your perfectly round ass cheeks would show beneath the denim. Did you even wear any underwear? He thought not.

And then that white crop top was the fucking end of him. You had gotten it all wet when a loaded sponge dripped all over your front while you were talking to him about some trivial thing he could no longer remember. You had tittered and apologised while you scrunched it to get as much water out as possible. And the only thing he had been able to focus on were your pointy nipples, staring right at him, screaming for his caress.

After that, he had been at full mast the whole damn shift.

“Hi, Joel, come in!” You greeted him excitedly, swinging the door open.

He had taken a cold shower before coming over, but maybe what he needed was a fucking ice bath. Because the moment you batted your eyelashes at him, his cock twitched again. Joel had fisted his dick while showering, in the hopes that emptying his nuts before seeing you again would placate his lust for you.

Nope, hadn’t worked. Not one bit. This was probably a bad idea.

“Hey, kiddo.” He greeted you, emphasizing the last word.

He could literally be your fucking father, but that did not seem to deter you. If anything, it spurred you on. Had you no shame? Had he no shame? Because he should have stopped you the moment you started to be suggestive. Instead, he had let you go on, enjoying every single second of it.

Joel walked in and made his way to the kitchen, with you on his heels, where your father was lathering up some ribs with his secret sauce recipe.

“Hey, Joel. Let me get that from you”, he said before cleaning his hands on a kitchen towel and grabbing the beer crate from him.

Feeling they were still cold, his best friend cracked two open and handed him one. Joel lifted the can to his lips and saw you looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“Want one?” he asked, since you were of legal drinking age.

You shook your head no, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

“Eww, nah. I hate beer”, you sniggered and his dick spasmed some more.

“‘Course you do”, said your father before he could reply. “You only drink― What’s that crap again?”

“Gin and tonic, dad. It’s literally gin and tonic mixed. It’s not that fancy.” You huffed and puffed, shaking your head.

“This youth mixing everything because they can’t have proper alcohol. What’s next? Mixing beer with lemonade or something like that?”

“Well, that’s actually a thing. It’s called a shandy. Don’t be so old.”

Joel let you two have a go at each other. Observing the exchange, he sat down on one of the stools in front of the island, knees slightly bent.

“What?! You listening to this, Joel?” You father exclaimed with a joking tone. “Is Sarah like this too?”

“Yeah, exactly like this. Thinks beer is disgusting and everything. Thought I raised her better than that, but apparently not.” He jested, sipping from the tin can.

“How’s she doing?” His friend asked.

“She’s fine. She’s turning twenty-four in a couple of weeks. She moved out two months ago, gone to Houston for her new job.” He couldn’t help but be proud of his Sarah. She had accomplished so much. “She’s supposed to be here for her birthday, but we’ll see. She’s always so busy, don’t really know with what.”

“Aren’t they all? I barely see this one over here and she still lives under my roof.”

You folded arms, rolling your eyes again, while you sat down beside Joel on another stool.

“Sorry for having a social life? Like, what do you want me to do? Stay here with you watching football? Got better things to do, dad.”

“So you ain’t staying tonight then?” Your dad asked.

Joel turned to study you, interested in your answer. Could he have some reprieve tonight?

“Of course I’m stayin’. Would be rude not to when we have guests over, right, Joel?” And as the last words abandoned your mouth, you placed your left hand on his right thigh under the counter.

God have mercy.

Joel’s muscles stiffened, one in particular more than the others. His thighs were tense as he gripped the beer can with more strength than what was necessary. He kept his eyes to the front, taming his breathing.

He should have done something, slapping your hand away from his lap for instance. But he didn’t. And you took that as an invitation, because soon enough you were kneading his bulge under the kitchen island. Your palm rubbed harshly against the denim, and he saw you chewing your bottom lip.

Your father busied himself with seasoning the ribs and the French fries, oblivious to what was happening just a few meters away from him. This feels fucking wrong, but so fucking good, Joel thought to himself, your hand frisking his groin brazenly.

His cock was thudding with desire under his clothing, begging to be freed from its prison. You sensed his desperation, because you quickly tried to clasp your hand around it. Feeling your frustration at the inability of fisting him properly, Joel parted his legs to give you better access. If that was not an open invitation, nothing was.

I’m already going to hell. Joel had to stop himself of sucking his breath in when you started to unzip his jeans. His eyes slightly widened, but that was his only tell.

“So who do you reckon is going to win tonight?” Your father asked as your fingers dipped underneath his boxers.

Your warm skin against his beating cock dulled his senses. Then you took his dick out of his boxers and attempted to circle his girth while working him. Joel had to drink from his beer to shut himself up.

“Not sure, but I’d like for the Longhorns to win”, he spat the words out as best he could given the circumstances.

“Yeah, would be nice seeing our hometown win something this season”, your father continued with the small talk.

Joel’s thighs flexed when you started pumping him decisively. Fuck. He briefly looked down at his erection. It felt too damn good, your tiny fingers gripping him hard as you slowly moved your hand up and down on his lap. The tip of his cock was glistening with precum and you expertly rubbed it on his foreskin with your thumb.

As your father turned around to put everything in the oven, Joel took the chance to look at you. With your gaze averted, you pretended there was something interesting in the wall in front of you, while your right hand was buried underneath your slutty denim shorts. Joel could swear he could hear the squelching sounds your pussy was making while you played with yourself.

“Right, I think this is it. Gotta wait for an hour until everything’s properly cooked. Wanna move to the family room in the meantime?” He happily chattered as he walked around the kitchen island.

You reacted quickly and let go of his shaft. With his lap right under the kitchen counter, Joel hoped to hell his friend would not see anything out of the ordinary.

“Yeah”, he said with a coarse voice. “Need to go to the bathroom first.”

Your father just nodded as he sauntered towards the living room and Joel almost let go a sigh of relief. You simply chortled as you put your left thumb in your mouth, making it obvious that you were tasting his precum.

Joel’s cock jerked on his lap as he whispered a blasphemy. Quickly he tucked away his painful dick back in his boxers and zipped his jeans as he stood up. Then he retreated to the bathroom, needing a fucking moment to find his composure again.

Until he heard you.

“Gonna go get my phone charger, be back in a jiffy!”

Before Joel could close the door behind him, you slipped your hand in the door gap to stop him from shutting it. You caught him off guard, because he stepped back, brows knitting when he saw you under the door frame.

“What’cha doing?”, he questioned you.

You could feel the rigidity radiating from him. You entered the small bathroom and silently closed the door behind you, both of your hands holding onto the doorknob on your back.

“I came to finish what I started.”

You didn’t give him time to think ― if you did, you knew he would put an end to this. You were too turned on, your cunt beating every time your heart did. Your pussy lips were all wet and puffy ― you could feel your slick trapped between your folds, almost seeping into your panties. You had unleashed the beast and wanted it all for yourself.

So you threw yourself into Joel’s chest, your teeth softly scratching his Adam’s apple as one of your hands found its way back to his cock. He tilted his chin up and groaned at your touch. His pounding dick felt warm and velvety against your palm, so hard from working him under the kitchen counter a minute before.

Once he opened his eyes again, he looked down at you as you gripped his erection with both hands. Slowly you jerked him off, feeling powerful with him on the palm of your hands. Every time you pumped him, your clit would twitch in response. He had not touched you yet and your pussy was already palpitating for him. You could not wait to feel him inside you, stuffing you full.

“We shouldn’t, your father is right there―”

You could not care less. And to make it evident, you sunk to your knees in front of him, still holding his cock, now at eye level.

Your tongue darted out and you leaned his dick forward until the tip rested flat against your tongue, your hands still working his veiny shaft.

“You were saying?” You asked before briefly pecking his glans.

“Fuck”, was the only thing he managed to mumble.

That was your cue to give free rein to your lust. You nudged his column with the tip of your nose as your mouth drifted down to kiss his balls. Then your tongue slid out in its full extension, and you flattened it against the underside of his cock, slowly lapping at it until you reached the top and sealed your lips around his mushroom head.

Glancing up at him, you saw pleasure softening his features as you took him in further and further down, until his cock reached the natural resistance at the end of your throat. When his tip bottomed out in your mouth, Joel’s eyes found yours. His jaw visibly clenched at the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cock burrowed in between your lips, tears gathering on your bottom eyelids because of how his dick was outstretching you.

You moaned as Joel pulled his hips back, his shaft leaving your wet cavity, now full of precum and saliva. You swallowed to make room as you avidly tipped your head towards him, your lips hunting down his dick again. Slurping so you wouldn’t drown in fluids, you ate his cock like if it was the last edible thing on earth.

At that moment, something shifted in the air. As if Joel, finally, let go of his prejudices and accepted what you were giving him: your mouth to use as he pleased. His fingers hovered over your temples and then they clamped down on your skull as he held you in place.

“Stay still”, he commanded, and you nodded, his cock sitting snugly in your mouth.

His hips moved back and then forward, rocking his dick in and out of your lips. First slow, then picking up a pace. You stayed put throughout while he fucked your mouth mercilessly, palms against your knees like the good girl you were. Then his glans breached your uvula and you inevitably gagged at the intrusion.

He forced you to remain still as he tried to go further down, but there was nowhere for him to go. Your eyes welled up while you fought back the need to cough, almost unable to breathe.

Joel snapped his hips back and your mouth became free. You started panting while trying to catch a breath. Joel cupped your chin up so you would look at him. His sly grin told you he was enjoying himself a bit too much.

“Can tell you’ve not eaten many cocks, have you? Despite pretending to be this slutty brat in front of everyone, hm?” He asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.

“Well, I―” He didn’t let you finish the sentence because as soon as you opened your mouth, he slotted his dick back in between your plump lips.

“I actually don’t wanna hear it.”

Inevitably your cunt gushed at his roughness. He was right though ― you had only given head to two guys before and their cocks did not measure up to his. Your jaw had actually started to hurt now due to the effort you were making to house his dick in your mouth.

Joel quickly resumed his pounding, fucking your mouth relentlessly ― his hips swaying back and forth in front of you.

“Sweetie! Can you bring my charger too please?” Your father’s question forced both of you to snap out of the sexual haziness you both were feeling.

You two froze in place, Joel’s cock still in your mouth.

“Or I can come get it.” Then you heard his booted steps coming up the corridor.

In a panic, Joel stumbled back and you sprang to your feet, eyes widened with fear.

“No! Don’t worry! I’m coming!” You shouted back, hoping that your voice sounded far away enough to him.

The steps stopped and you both listened to him walking back to the living room. “Thank you, sweetie!”

You turned to look at Joel, who had grabbed a bunch of toilet roll to clean off the mess on his still throbbing cock.

“Joel, I’m sorry, b―”

“Just go before he changes his mind and comes looking for you”, his voice was strained with effort. His erection had to be painful by now without any relief.

But he was right. You couldn’t risk it. Neither of you could. So with apologetic eyes, you slithered out the bathroom door and ran to your room to snatch a couple of phone chargers.

Fucking torture that was.

Joel had never been in a worse position than that. Sat on the couch with you, your father on the recliner just a couple of meters away ― and his dick still pulsating, his balls full of unspent cum. His cock would writhe in his boxers, asking for a relief that never came. He was in excruciating pain and was not able to concentrate at all. All the small talk your father did went over his head, didn’t pay attention to the TV’s commentary either.

From time to time, you would graze his thigh lightly ― and on one occasion you slid your naughty hand towards his groin. Luckily the living room was dark, the TV being the only source of light, so your father didn’t pay much attention to your provocations. You quietly kneaded his bulge, curling your fingers around his erection underneath, and it got to a point where Joel had to force your hand away, because he was too close to coming.

So, when he waved you both goodbye and got into his truck, he could literally not wait to get home. Under the dim light of the lampposts that filtered through the windows into the truck’s cabin, Joel freed his aching dick and fisted it from the base. With his head tilted back against the headrest, he furiously jerked off ― fast and with no measure, to the point it was almost hurting. Tension built up from his nuts upwards and when Joel finally got relief, he groaned audibly as his cum spurted out in white, thick streaks.

With a heavy sigh and some laboured breathing, he opened his eyes, looking for some tissues to clean the mess on his lap. As he was putting his cock back in his boxers, something caught his attention.

The darkness camouflaged you well, but he spotted you on the window of your room, watching him eagerly with half-lidded eyes and chewing your bottom lip. Then your head leaned forward, your chin almost touching your chest, and Joel suddenly understood what was happening. You had been touching yourself while observing him do the same thing, until you orgasmed too.

Your eyes locked on each other’s through the blackness, something dark and perverted floating in the atmosphere. The whole thing felt wrong. The right kind of wrong.

The next week had been a continuous dance between the two of you. You too suggestive, him too evasive. After you had seen him wanking in his car, you had thought you had him under your spell. He had looked like a damn teenager chasing his release, unable to contain it much longer.

But you couldn’t blame him ― you had had him on edge for almost five hours. First touching him under the counter, then sucking his dick in the bathroom, and finally kneading him on the couch with your dad only two meters away.

It all had affected you too, because as soon as you had scurried away to your room and had looked out the window, you fingered yourself with your eyes locked on him. You came so hard, that you had to steady yourself on the windowsill, trembling knees and all. And once the orgasm softened its grip on you, you had realised he had been watching you as you rode the last wave of your climax.

So yes, for a week you tried to seduce him again, because you needed to know how it all ended. Having him burrowed down to your guts was a necessity now. However, it got to a point where you almost gave up ― it was draining having to follow him around like a bitch in heat. You still had one ace up your sleeve though. One that you hoped to play this afternoon. Because if you didn’t fuck him today, you were going to lose your shit.

You focused on your task, which was rubbing the soaked sponge on the bodywork of the car. Two other people were doing the same thing on the back, while you were slightly bent over the hood trying to reach the middle. Your breasts brushed against the metalwork, your white tank top completely wet with soapy water, almost transparent now. The coldness was refreshing in the asphyxiating Texan heat and your nipples especially welcomed it, wrinkling tightly and showing through the fabric.

When you straightened, you caught a glimpse of Joel eyeing you intently. But you pretended you didn’t ― maybe you needed to play difficult, show him no interest. Reverse psychology. So for the rest of your shift you just ignored him, fully conscious of how his sight followed you at all times. Let him brew.

Joel didn’t say a word though, didn’t come close to you either. But you heard him wicker while you were openly teasing one of your teammates. Were you trying to make him jealous? Absolutely. So, you giggled and played with your hair at the tasteless joke your colleague told you. It wasn’t funny, but you wanted Joel to listen to your flirting.

Midday came around and the other two people working on the hand wash business said their goodbyes. Joel employed a father and son in the shop too, who left the garage to go home for lunch. And then it was only you and Joel left. Just as you had planned.

“Joel? Can you help me with this, please?” You politely asked him after lifting a bucket full of water up to your chest.

You took a couple of steps forward and the water spilt all over, soaking your shirt completely.

“Shit”, you heard him say under his breath, jogging towards you.

He slipped his arms underneath the bucket to release you from its weight and then placed it back down between both of you.

“What are you doing? You’re gonna hurt your back with such terrible manual handling.” He reprimanded you, tutting.

“Something hurts and it’s not my back, Joel.” You muttered, your fingers wrapping around his wrist to haul him closer to you.

You were done with subtlety. You guided his hand to your pussy and pressed it gently.

“Hurts right here.” The low, needy mumble poured from your lips like honey.

Joel’s eyes squinted just a tad, and his nostrils flared. You saw the inner battle in his chocolate eyes, and you fucking hoped he lost.

Soon you had the answer you had been looking for. The palm of his hand flattened against your crotch, holding you possessively, and pulled you against his broad chest. You couldn’t help but moan when your breasts pressed against him, your taut nipples aching with sensitivity.

“You’re so fucking nasty, kiddo. Been watching you all week, trying to get me hard all over again, haven’t you?” You shyly nodded, biting down your bottom lip as you glanced up at him, his palm rubbing your cunt with determination. “Of course you have, you’re so cock drunk. You loved sucking me, didn’t you?”

You shook your head yes, holding onto the waistband of his jeans. You whimpered when his thumb burrowed in your pants, trying to find your slit over all that clothing unsuccessfully.

“Joel, please.” You begged for mercy, for relief, for something ― anything he could give you, you would take.

“You want me to fuck you, kiddo?” His free hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up, while his thumb kept nudging your damp slit. His mouth hovered over yours as you simply nodded again. “Hm? You want me to destroy your pussy?”

“Yes, yes, YES.” You were already gushing at his dirty talk.

With no more prodding, Joel bowed down and sunk his tongue in your mouth, darting in with the ferocity only a man on the edge could feel. He swept your entire cavity in an open-mouth kiss that left your knees shaking and your pussy throbbing. You moaned into his breath and your tongue lapped at his, the span on his fingers gently covering your neck and squeezing lightly.

Joel’s hand between your legs moved to your ass, pressing you into him. His swollen lump poked at your lower belly intimately and you couldn’t resist the urge to dip your hand in his boxers. He audibly groaned as you attempted to circle his whole girth and failed. Just like a week before, you would need both of your hands around his shaft to properly grip him. You pumped him once, very slow, your hand gliding down till it found his balls.

Joel grunted in the middle of the sloppy kiss and pushed you to go backwards until your body met the back of his pickup truck, which was parked at the end of the driveway. Out of prying eyes, you hoped. Not that you cared that much at this precise moment, anyway.

His beard scratched the skin on your cheek as his lips drifted down to your neck. You looked up to the clear sky before you closed your eyes, giving his pulsing cock a light squeeze that snatched a moan out of him.

Without warning, Joel broke the messy kiss and knelt before you, his hands tugging at the waistband of your shorts with no difficulty. Soon your pants were around your ankles, your panties quickly following, leaving you naked from the waist down. Joel helped you take them off but left your tennis on.

Still on his knees, he peeked up with a devilish smile, then leaned forward and lapped at your mound. A heavy sigh slipped from your lips as your fingers raked his salt and pepper curls. The tip of his tongue brushed the point where your slit started and then licked upwards, his tongue skidding through your skin until it reached your belly button.

You pursed your lips, wanting him to go down, not up. In fact, you pushed him down ever so slightly and the cold of his breath against your wet skin when he laughed made you look down, frustrated.

He kissed the beginning of your slit again and when you thought he was going in, he stopped. You whimpered, thwarted, as he got back up to his feet and towered above you.

“You want me to touch you where it hurts, hm?” He questioned with his lips ghosting yours. “Your pussy? That’s where?”

Not waiting for your reply, his index dunked in your pearly furrow and traced it in its entirety, from your quivering hole to your thumping clit. And then he did it again, for good measure.

“You’re soaking, kiddo. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping.” To emphasize his words, Joel suddenly dived his finger in your opening, a squelching sound making it obvious that you were, in fact, dripping. “You hear that?” He forced his finger out and then back in, the wet, sucking noise even louder this time.

You frantically nodded as he fingered you, his thumb caressing your begging clit as he did. You mewled into his chest, eyes shut, trying to calm the fluttering of your inner walls around his lonely finger. Lonely not for long, because Joel then introduced a second. You held onto his sides, his tee shirt scrunching in your fists, the orgasm building up.

“C’mon, squeeze your cunt for me. Show me how tight you are”, he whispered in your ear as his relentless fingering picked up a faster pace between your legs.

You happily obliged and squashed your walls together around his fingers as he dextrously stroked your g-spot. All of a sudden, a firing sensation built in your clit without warning and the haziness of pleasure took over your senses abruptly. You came hard, very hard, wailing his name as he kept on fingering you until the last wave of your climax washed over you.

What the actual fuck? You thought to yourself, amazed. You rested your forehead against his chest, catching a breath and feeling your arousal wetting your inner thighs.

Still recovering from your unexpected orgasm, Joel picked you up and settled you down on the edge of his truck’s cargo bed. Your feet dangled in front of you, and you parted your legs to make room for him while you wrapped his neck with your arms and licked into his mouth.

“Now I’m gonna eat you raw, kiddo. Give you some of your own medicine.” His hoarse tone gave you goosebumps. Palming both of your breasts over your wet tank top, he pushed you down until your back met the floor of the cargo bed, your legs hanging freely from your knees down. “Is that what you want? This old man feasting on your pussy, on her? ‘S she gonna like it?”

“Joel, please, just― Yes, eat my pussy. Eat her, eat me, please.” You begged with a small voice while you pinched your nipples over your shirt, eyes closed.

And finally, he did. With his hands on your knees to keep them apart, Joel lapped at your cunt in one sweet sweep. Your body trembled with elation, shivers firing down your spine. His tongue caressed all the crevices in your shiny slit, lips puffy and reddened. His thumb found your clit as the tip of his tongue played with your leaking hole, going in and out a few times ― fucking you with his tongue.

You were not able to take it for much longer ― with Joel’s tongue lodged in your creamy fold and your fingers playing with your nipples, you were done for. Soon you came undone, tension growing in your lower belly and molten lava finding its way out. You howled his name, your knees pressing against his head, holding him in place as you came in his mouth. Joel sipped from your fountain, leaving not even one drop behind, your pussy licked clean of your own discharge.

His turn to find relief.

Even though Joel had been fisting himself while eating you raw, the roughness of his palm could not compare to your warmth. He just knew your pussy would hug his cock just right. And he was dying to find out.

Pushing his work jeans and boxers down to his ankles, he kicked his feet until they came off. Soon his security shoes and socks were kicked to the side too. With renewed energy, Joel jumped on to the cargo bed. You propped your torso up with the help of your elbows to study his erection, wetting your lips unknowingly.

Your eyes lingered on his cock for too damn long and it twitched on his hand.

“Spread your legs, kiddo.”

And so you did without complaints. You stretched your legs, Joel having a perfect view of your glistening pussy. You were so horny, he could literally see your cunt palpitating from this angle. Knelt between your legs, he leaned forward until the tip of his dick brushed against your slit, so damp again it just slid off. Jerking himself off, he nudged your soaked entrance with his mushroom head and your mouth opened, shaping a perfect O.

“So needy, isn’t she? Aren’t you? Playing difficult to catch today, trying to make me jealous with that stupid boy, but in reality, you’re just a desperate brat wanting to get her pussy drilled by her dad’s best friend.” His dirty talk did not stop while he pushed in, your flesh parting to house him until he bottomed out.

Joel moaned, sweat gathering on his brow, his hands on either side of your head. He stood still for a long minute while your cunt fluttered around him, sheathing his whole length. He could feel your inner muscles adjusting to him.

You were so cockstruck you didn’t even reply.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, so take it well, kiddo.” He warned before tilting his hips back and abruptly back in.

You wailed loudly at the first thrust, and Joel had to muffle your screams by covering your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm, but he didn’t let go. He did not want you to alert the neighbours around the garage. His hips bucked against yours and then, after a few teasing shoves, Joel started jackhammering you fast and viciously hard.

You draped your legs around his waist, the heels of your white tennis pushing on his ass cheeks, encouraging to go deeper and quicker. And so he did, uncovering your mouth to replace it with his.

Joel fucked you mercilessly, filthily. He drove his dick in and out of you in quick succession, drilling your tacky pussy. And he knew you were loving every single second of it. Your soft sobs only spurred him on and when your moist pussy clutched around his drumming cock announcing your orgasm, he couldn’t restraint himself for much longer.

He stoically let you come while riding your own climax. His balls tightened and his belly muscles strained, signalling his own relief.

“Where?”, was the only word that he managed to whisper.

Your eyes were still closed, a languid smile lingering on your lips, all blissful and satisfied while he was still fucking suffering.

“In my mouth.” Your reply was almost his undoing.

Joel snapped his hips back, his hard, throbbing cock slipping out. He dragged his body across yours until his thick, hairy thighs were on each side of your head and his nuts were resting on your chin, his ass hanging over your breasts.

“Open”, he husked, raspy and throaty.

Still with your eyes closed, you parted your lips, and Joel shoved his beating cock down your throat unceremoniously. He leaned forward over you ― his hands holding his weight off you, flat against the cargo bed’s floor. And then Joel started fucking your mouth mindlessly, as if it was your cunt ― his testicles slapping against your chin and your eyes welling up.

He could feel your head almost rocking up and down below him with the strength of his thrusts. You only stopped swaying underneath him when your hands grabbed his buttocks, your fingers sinking in his flesh.

With a guttural growl, Joel came undone and his thick cum filled your mouth. You stayed still while the last white ropes spurted out the slit on his tip, finally reaching the bliss he had been chasing for a week.

Joel lifted his hips off your face and his dick came out of your mouth with a pop.

“Eat it, kiddo.” He requested of you, towering above you.

From this angle, flat on your back and with Joel almost sat on your face, you saw first his balls and then his soft cock hovering over your eyes. What had just happened was filthy, and you loved it, even though you were sure that your throat would hurt tomorrow.

“It’s $300 if I swallow”, you kidded out of nowhere, almost gargling with his cum as your mouth was full of it.

Joel chuckled as he came off you, sitting down on your left.

“Deal”, he agreed.

And so you gulped his cum down, letting it slip down your throat until it landed in your belly. You smiled at him before opening your mouth to show him it was empty.

Joel’s chest rumbled with satisfaction.

“Good girl.”

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wystiix · 2 days

Text

"love is sour grapes"

❥ pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader ❥ synopsis: It's a rainy night and you're snoozing. Arlecchino just watches over you while thinking about your time together, and how far you both had come. ❥ cw: n/a ❥ additional tags: second pov perspective, reader is not traveler ❥ word count: 804 ❥ notes: hi hi so like ya i haven't played her story quest, but i wanted to write this dedicated to my bae (vel)!! i hope this isn't too inaccurate.. erm yeah. i was cooking this shit at 2am in the morning so take what you get. ❥ taglist: @honkai-freak (for u bbg) @mikashisus @tragedy-of-commons

According to the books, love is an intense feeling of deep affection. It is often portrayed as a positive feeling, from the butterflies fluttering in your stomach to the overall warmth that spreads throughout your entire being.

It can elevate you to the heights of bliss. At the same time, it can cut deeply enough to leave scars.

Arlecchino has experienced the latter. Her heart, if it still could be called that, had long been hardened like stone. What is love, if not a knife carefully pressed to her heart? She had avoided it for so long. The thought, the concept itself—it never dawned upon her.

Yet, here she was.

You slept soundly, snuggling in the sheets as you took off to the land of nod. Arlecchino simply observed you on the other side of the bed, watching your chest rise and fall to the sound of pouring rain outside.

How would one describe such a complex feeling? Why did she feel all tingly whenever she thought of you?

She leaned in and brushed a few strands of your hair to the side, showing your peaceful, sleeping face. A slight prickle met her fingers and a warmth seeped through her chest as a result. There it was again.

It was almost hard to fathom—and pathetic—that people would go to any lengths for the sake of their beloved. However, now she understood. Now that you were here, she’d willingly hurl herself into a pit of barbed wires if you desired.

The faint warmth of your body coaxed her closer, unable to pull her gaze away from yours. Her eyes traced over your sleeping form, memorising the shape of your face that she so adored. She felt so… alive. Alive in a way that almost scared her.

What does it truly mean to deserve love? Is it something that must be earned like a hard-earned gift, or does it simply come to you?

Honestly, she wasn't sure herself. She didn't know why you had chosen… her out of all the people in Teyvat. Arlecchino didn't have to work for your love, no? She had already earned it according to you.

Deserving. That word left a bitter taste in her mouth. What did she do to deserve this peace, this unwavering affection? What did she do to deserve you at all? Nothing, she thought. And yet, you still chose her. Despite the amount of blood stains she had and the rough calluses on her hands, you still intertwined your fingers with hers, bringing them to your lips and pressing a tender kiss on each one.

Is love a blessing or a burden?

It was like a sour grape, once thought too sharp to swallow. Though, the grape turned out to be much sweeter than expected the more she chewed.

Perhaps, she'd be willing to bite the pain as well.

She scooted closer to you, her breath warm against your skin as she gently brushed her fingertips across your face. You stirred in your sleep, instinctively reaching out for her warmth, and she let you find her.

Silence enveloped the dark room as Arlecchino lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The rain pattering against the window mirrored the steady beat of your heart, grounding her in the present at this very moment. She stroked your hair lovingly, relishing the softness of it.

Soft, like fragile threads of silk. Her mind raced. That leaves her to ponder: what if she hurt you? What if the same hands of a Harbinger that had caused so much pain to others couldn’t hold you as gently as they should?

“I don’t deserve you.”

You didn’t seem to hear her. She felt you shift slightly once again, a soft mumble escaping your lips as your hand blindly reached out and curled around her fingers. Her fingers grazed your cheek again, gentler than the first touch as if she feared you’d slip away if she wasn’t careful. She pressed a fleeting kiss on your hair.

Arlecchino wanted to say so many things to you. How thankful she really was for someone to walk into her life.

She swallowed hard.

“Even then, I'm quite content it was you, I…” she paused, processing her thoughts.

The words were foreign on her tongue. She'd never spoken them before. However, the truth radiated from within.

“I love you.”

The words slipped out, softer than she intended, but they felt right. They didn't have a bitter, sour aftertaste to it. It rolled off her tongue so, so easily. She wasn’t sure if you heard. If you didn’t… perhaps that was for the best.

She didn't deserve you. She never would.

But with the way you held onto her like an anchor, she knew one thing for certain—she would never let go of the one she cherished ever again.

#el oh el i need to eat #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x y/n #arlecchino x female reader #genshin x reader #☆ wystys ink #—stellaronhvnters.

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honeyhoneypp · 2 days

Text

Think Only About Me

Things One Piece men would say during sex

You felt so good, they loved your face filled with pleasure and loved your naked curves, everything was so perfect. They couldn't stop themselves from letting you know how good they felt.

NSFW!!!

Female pronouns! degradation + praise kink

==================================

L U F F Y

He’s always loud, he doesn’t care if someone hears him or not, he is not even thinking about that right now, all he’s thinking about is how good you're making him feel.

He would be honest with his words, he always asks you how you're doing because he wants you to feel good, but sometimes he could be rude with his words, you just have to tell him so he could do better next time.

==================================

“Shit… It feels so good, keep going, don't stop.”

“Want me to make it bigger, pretty girl?”

“A-Agh, ____… Are you sure you want me to make it bigger?”

“You’re… Ah- So damn wet”

“Please… Do that again… It’s called squirt, right? Please squirt again for me”

“Your ass looks so delicious from here”

“Yeah… Just like that, this feels okay with ya’?”

“Don’t cry, you said you could take it. Don't be a crybaby now”

“What is this bump on your tummy?”

“Oh, this is my cock? Shishi that’s so funny”

“Keep saying my name like that… I don't know why it feels so good when you say my name”

“____… I-I’m so close to cumming, wanna cum inside of you”

“It feels so tight”

“Oh, fuck. Huh? They're going to hear us? So what?”

“Y-You’re making me feel so good... I feel like I'll cum already”

“You look so beautiful... Makes me wanna cum…”

“I-I don’t know why you’re making me feel this way”

“Aw. Cmon pretty girl, don't put your hands on your mouth, wanna hear you, it makes me feel good and it's funny when you sound like that”

Nicknames he would call you

Pretty girl (I don’t see Luffy calling you something else other than your name or pretty girl)

Z O R O

He isn't that loud, he only whispers since he doesn't want any of his crewmates to know that he’s making love to you, that would be embarrassing for him, I mean he should be focused on other things, not on this!

Of course, he loves the noises you make, but sometimes you're too loud. He is kind of more on the sadistic side meaning he can be rude a lot of times with his words…

==================================

“Fuck… this tight ass pussy is killing me”

“Shhh, they'll hear you”

“Shut the hell up!”

“I told you to be quiet… you don’t want me to be mean with you, right?”

“How can you be so wet already?”

“You look so nasty, I like it”

“I’ll make you feel so good”

“You don't tell me what to fucking do”

“Are you that starved for my cock?”

“You need to shut your damn mouth or they’ll hear us!”

“You like it when I talk to you this way? You’re such a damn freak”

“Fuck… fuck… fuck… my beautiful woman…”

“Look at you, doll. You look so beautiful and cock hungry”

“Cmon, you can take my whole cock, right?”

“Yes… you can, take everything like a good girl”

“Mhmm… you’re such a slut… such a slut for my cock”

“You want me to pull your hair? You damn pervert”

Nicknames he would call you

Slut

Good girl

Woman

Babydoll

Pervert

Doll

S A N J I

He is another one that doesn’t care if his crewmates hear him. In fact, he wants his crewmates to hear how good you’re making him feel or how good he’s making you feel because he’s a freak and a whore.

He loves it when you treat him like a dog, he loves to beg you so you can make him feel good, but he can also be on the dominant side if you ask him to. He's so sweet with his words, he’s always telling you how beautiful you look

==================================

“____, p-please don't stop… I'm so close”

“My love, your boobs look so beautiful”

“Y-Yes, ____, I’ll do anything”

“Just please let me cum”

“You want me to go faster?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so tight it's killing me”

“How does that feel? D-Does this feel okay with you? You like that, sweetheart?”

“A-Ah, shit… You are taking me so well, my love, good job, sweetheart”

“Please keep saying my name… I-I feel like I'm about to cum”

“Don’t hold yourself back, sweetie… Please cum on my cock… please give it to me”

“You look so beautiful when you’re bouncing on my cock”

“Y-You want to take my whole cock? Are you sure?”

“Fuck- good job, my love. You’re making me feel so good”

“____, please do whatever you want to me… yes! Just like that!”

“Want me to go faster, pretty girl?”

“L-Let me eat your pussy, please, I beg you”

“My love, don’t hold yourself back… I want to hear your beautiful moans”

“Doesn’t matter if they can hear us.”

Nicknames he would call you

Pretty girl

Sweetie

Sweetheart

My love

Princess

Angel

==================================

Please let me know if I made spelling mistakes, some things don’t make sense or got their personality wrong!

#monkey d. luffy #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #monster trio #fanfic #smut #one piece smut #praise and degradation #roronoa zoro smut #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji smut #monkey d luffy smut #op smut #anime smut #roronoa zoro x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader

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itendtothinkalot · 2 days

Text

its me or the ps5 (not literally)

summary: gamer bf beomgyu is in the midst of a lol battle with soobin but all u rly want is his attention :(((

genre: all fluff, no plot

characters: gamer bf!beomgyu x f!reader

words: not too many (i havent counted)

warnings: kinda suggestive but other than its pretty fluffy hehe

It had been hours since he last spoke to you. No, he wasn’t angry. No, he wasn’t upset with you. He was just really into his game.

You lay in bed, the soft glow of the screen casting shadows on his back as he sat at the computer, shouting curses between bursts of laughter. His words, loud and rapid, formed a jumble you could only half understand—it felt like trying to learn a new language, each phrase coming out as broken sentences.

“Something something, I’ll go mid, something something.” You managed to grasp this much.

You craved his attention. Sure, your last date was just three hours ago, but it wasn’t enough. He’d spoil you so much during the date that you’d gotten greedy. You needed him now—his attention, his hands, his words. But there he was, locked in with his favorite thing in the world: his pc.

“He missed me! Dude, he missed me!” Beomgyu yelled into the mic, laughing loudly. His fingers flew across the keyboard, the rapid clicking almost rhythmic. Out of curiosity, you peeked around the corner from your spot on the bed and watched him play. You didn’t really know how to play League, though you’d seen him at it plenty of times and had dabbled a bit when he’d offered to teach you.

Your body inched closer and closer, curiosity pulling you toward the screen. You could see his character zooming across the map, darting from one point to another. From what little you understood, he was doing really well—so well, in fact, that it made you feel even needier than you already did.

As you scooted inch by inch across the bed, you unknowingly reached the very edge. Before you realized it, your body slipped off, sending you tumbling to the floor with a soft thud. You let out a yelp, "AUGH!" The sound echoed through the room, catching your boyfriend’s attention. Beomgyu turned, eyes widening as he saw you sprawled on the floor.

"Baby, what are you doing on the floor?" His voice was laced with concern, though you could tell by the twitch of his lips that he was seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“Nothing.” You said, still on the floor.

He chuckled, standing up and making his way over to you. With a playful grin, he lifted you off the floor and gently placed you back on the bed. Leaning down, he gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re an idiot,” he said, his voice overflowing with affection.

“Yours,” you agreed with a giggle.

“CHOI BEOMGYU!” A muffled voice shouted through his headphones.

“Shit. Coming!” he yelled back, giving you one last quick kiss before rushing back to his chair. As he put his headset on, he shot back, “Shut up. You’re one to talk, you fucking virgin.”

You chuckled, knowing they were probably teasing him about you.

You huffed, puffing out your cheeks in frustration. Falling wasn’t part of the plan, but at least you had his attention for a moment. Was that full minute enough to satiate your needs? No. You wanted him in bed, cuddling you and recounting his day—though you had spent the entire day together.

Your phone buzzed.

Soobin: get ur bf off the pc

You: ???

Soobin: hes annoying wtf

You: youre literally stealing him away from me u asshat

Soobin: hes literally rite beside u

You: men r so dense

Soobin: hes SAYING HES WINNING and telling all his friends that he won over me when he didnt

You: why are u so mad its just a game

Soobin: U SUCK

“Baby, is Soobin’s character dead?” you asked.

Beomgyu glanced over, lifting the left side of his headphones. The faint glow of the computer screen reflected in his eyes. “Did you say something, sweetheart?”

“Is Soobin’s character dead?” you repeated, a teasing smile on your lips.

He nodded, a focused look on his face. “Yeah, why?”

You laughed, turning back to your phone. “Nothing.”

“Is he texting you?” Beomgyu asked, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice, though you probably didn’t notice.

You nodded, rolling your eyes playfully. “He’s just being annoying.”

“What’d he say?”

You shrugged. “Nothing much. He’s just talking about the game.”

“To you?” Beomgyu’s tone was sharper, and you looked up from your phone to see him fully turned toward you now. A far cry from just two minutes ago when he had been giving you only side glances. His complete attention was on you, a mix of curiosity and something else flickering in his eyes.

This piqued your interest. Was he jealous?

“Yes, Gyu. To me.” You laughed, placing your phone on the bed.

“Gyu?” His brows furrowed slightly, and you could see the shift in his expression. You knew that hit a nerve. He was expecting terms of endearment—baby, my love, sweetheart, darling, angel, daddy—but hearing just his name, the nickname you used when you were still friends, made him twitch.

“Gyu?” he repeated, a slight edge to his voice.

“Is that not your name?” you teased, a playful smile on your lips.

“No. Not to you.” He frowned, his focus shifting entirely away from the game. You watched as he pressed a button on his PC, the lights on his headphones flickering off. He had muted his friends, the sounds of the game fading into silence.

He took off the headphones and set them on the desk, then slowly made his way to the bed, his expression darkened as he approached you.

“Hm, really now?” You grinned, knowing you were reeling him in.

“To you, it’s baby,” he pouted, crossing his arms dramatically. “Why are you calling me by my government name?”

“Gyu is not your government name.” You laughed.

“Yes, it is. Y’know who calls me Gyu? My mother. Are you my mom?”

“No I’m not, Gyu.”

“You did it again!” He gasped, eyes wide with mock horror. “Evil has gotten to you. You’ve been hanging out with Soobin too much.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Baby~” he whined, leaning closer. “Do you still love me?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Aren’t you the one ignoring me for a game?”

“Ignoring you? Baby…” He feigned innocence, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I stopped my winning streak for you. Now Soobin’s gonna go berserk, posting on every social media that he won. I did this for you.” His expression was a mix of exasperation and affection.

“No. You stopped because you got jealous of your friend.”

“Soobin’s gorgeous. You can’t blame me for being jealous.”

You chuckled, “Soobin’s gorgeous? That’s your defense.”

He nodded aggressively, “Yes! He is. Didn’t you have a crush on him when we were all just becoming friends?”

Now you were confused, “Huh?”

“You had this major crush on him, didn’t you?”

“No. No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

“You’re making this up! Are you sure you’re not the one with a crush on him?” You accused.

“Look, he’s gorgeous and all, but… I’m into you. Specifically. If anyone asked me what my preference was, I’d say you. I’d always say you.” Beomgyu sighed, kneeling in front of you, resting his chin between your legs as he gazed up at you with earnest eyes.

You nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across your face. “Looks like I trained you well.” You ran your fingers gently through his hair, feeling the soft strands slip between your fingers.

“Mmf, play with my hair,” he murmured, sighing in contentment.

You always told everyone who asked that your boyfriend resembled a puppy—his big, expressive eyes and playful nature made it impossible not to think so. He loved being pampered, adored the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp, and thrived any sort of affection you showered him with.

“You sure? You seem like you’re losing,” you pointed out, glancing at the game still unfolding on the screen.

“I don’t care,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand.

“Really now?” You tilted your head, curiosity evident in your expression.

“Mhm.” He nodded confidently. “I’ll let Soobin win.”

“That’s the first.” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He nuzzled his cheeks against your bare thighs, a playful pout forming on his lips. “Please,” he begged, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“Sure, Gyu.” You teased again, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Again? Really?” He lifted his head off your legs, feigning exasperation. “Do you want me to start crying?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“Repeat after me. Ba…” He shifted above you, placing his arms on both sides of your legs, propping himself up so you were face-to-face with him. His eyes locked onto yours. His arms held your back, pushing you closer towards him.

You had been dating for years, yet it was almost excruciating how he could still make you feel giddy, even after countless sleepovers. The way he looked at you, the way he kisses you, the playful banter that never seemed to bore you.

“Ba…” You followed, grinning.

“By…” He leaned closer, whispering into your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

“By.”

“Good girl.” He pecked your cheeks lightly, a playful smile spreading across his face. “Now say it all together.” His face was so desperately close to yours, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, begging to hear the words.

“Baby,” you finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling as he grabbed your chin, pulling you in for a deeper kiss. “Don’t forget that.”

“How could I?” you murmured, breathless under the warmth of his lips, your heart racing.

Lost in the heat of the moment, the two of you spent the next few minutes locked in a deep, passionate kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his hands exploring every inch of you, yet always remaining gentle. The intensity of the connection between you both grew with each second as each kiss grew desperate and needier, you couldn’t help but wish you could see him everyday.

You tapped Beomgyu’s arms as you both slowed down the kiss, exchanging gentle pecks between your playful conversation.

“Baby.” Peck.

“What do—” Peck.

“You think—” Peck.

“About—”

“Mmf, I can’t think right now.” Beomgyu continued, playfully pushing you down onto the bed as he showered you with kisses.

“Baby, this is important.”

“What could be more important than this?” he replied, giving you one final peck before falling beside you, entwining his fingers with yours.

“Well, what do you think about living together?” you asked.

“Hm?” His eyes lit up with curiosity.

“We're already always at each other’s places,” you explained, a hopeful smile playing on your lips.

“You just get smarter each day, don’t you?” he teased, propping his elbows on either side of you as he gazed down, admiration shining in his eyes. “Because I think that’s the smartest thing anyone has ever said. Even Einstein couldn’t figure this out.”

“Baby, it’s a yes or no,” you laughed, enjoying the playful banter.

“As if I’d say no to staying with the world’s most perfect person.” He scoffed in mock disbelief, a grin spreading across his face. “And imagine this: we could stay in bed all day after doing all sorts of things all night.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Gyu…” you looked at him sternly, trying to suppress a smile.

“Again with my government name!” He exclaimed dramatically.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your affection. “I love you.”

“And I love—” He pressed his lips onto yours, silencing you with a kiss. “You.”

#txt fic #txt oneshot #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x y/n #choi beomgyu x you #beomgyu x you #beomgyu txt au #beomgyu au

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foodiegoogie · 3 days

Text

the marauders x you when you unlock a streak with each other on tiktok

quick lil info! a tiktok streak happens when you message someone for 3 days in a row, and a streak badge (🔥) appears on the chat. then, hence the name ‘streak,’ it grows as you continue to exchange messages and tiktoks with e/o :]

note: heyyy 😋 it's been a hot minute since i posted anything worth of a read,, i was fighting for my life, finishing schoolwork HAHA but anyway, plz enjoy these headcannons in the meantime as i accomplish the requests rotting in my inbox, and continue my wips :P

"babe, are you okay? because our streak isn't. i need you to hold your end of the deal here!"

𓄃 let's be real.. james would be SO dramatic abt it. mans is devoted and loyal in every way, shape, and form—tiktok streak included!

𓄃 so when it does happen, he would never let you hear the end of it. ever. if he sees the lil fire badge on ur chat in grey and not orange? trust that he'll remind you to reply so the streak continues (indefinitely, in his preference)

𓄃 would send you the most unhinged of tiktoks; ranging from silly dances ("we should do this!!!" he would say), wholesome reminders of his love for you, and the whole shebang!!!!

𓄃 "haha this is so u" and it can either be smth super sweet n cute or smth he thought was funny but it isnt to u (in a funny way btw :3)

𓄃 but even tho our boy is a lil obnoxious most of the time, he understands ofc that realistically, the streak will have to die down for a few days :(

𓄃 but that's alright, no biggie! james is in love with u, enough to forgive u for not continuing the streak–

"are u mad at me?"

"what? no! jamie- no."

"okay :)"

(pregnant pause)

"baby?"

"yeah?"

"...our streak?"

"(sighs in fond exasperation)"

"dove, we need to talk about your screen time. yes, yes– i know, i'm a hypocrite for saying that. but my point still stands–"

☾ remus lupin is a total grandpa. in theory? nay. in essence and style? thru and thru baby!

☾ honestly i can imagine that at the beginning of ur relationship orrr myb the honeymoon phase, remus only has tiktok installed cuz a) u told him to bcoz u need him to see the stuff that comes up in ur fyp and b) it's the 21st century? it's basically this generation's newspaper now. get with the times!

☾ when a streak happens between u guys tho, it's him that accidentally unlocks it. why? oh! cuz he makes sure to reply and react to each and every single message and tiktok u send him!!! TEEHEE

☾ "oh look love!!! this is so us 🥺💞" and then 10 seconds (or less) later a notif pops up, rjlupin reacted with ❤ to your message

☾ he may follow up a reply of either "i love you" or a "ur so cheesy 😂"

☾ once remus gets the hang of it tho, he would absoluuuutely be committed to the streak.

☾ all he ever sends u is date ideas and book recs (coming from solid booktok accs btw, he isnt stupid) and those really wholesome hopecore tiktoks or slideshows of rly hard-hitting quotes that he thought was nice and thinks u should see as well :((

☾ but he's highly aware (as the quote above this hc suggests) that keeping this streak up is a team effort, and he's aware that u guys r similar in the way that ur both sleep-deprived 😭 and are prone to staying up late at night, doom scrolling on whatever socmed app or stuck inside a gripping chapter of a book :>

☾ it’s even gotten to the point where he just knows ur up at the same time he is, especially late at night. and so when the clock strikes midnight:

dove, u need to sleep. goodnight ❤️ no, YOU need to sleep ❤️ goodnight ily i love u too 🥰 but seriously, go to sleep. but our streak 🥺 it wont die. anw, im facetiming u so i know ur sleeping

☾ BONUS HC OMG ?! he would so totally be one of those bfs who would video call u as u guys r going 2 sleep and OFCCCC IT ENDS UP BEING U FALLING ASLEEP FIRST AND HIM SMILING CUZ HE FINDS U SO ADORABLE LIKE THIS AAAAA

“seriously, love? you know my love for you goes beyond sending you tiktoks every day, right?”

✶ sirius black, the nation's "bad boy", would actually be so bewildered by the whole thing LMAO he'd tease u endlessly my dude. Endlessly.

✶ but at the same time, he would secretly be kind of excited abt the whole thing :3 like what? he gets to spam u on tiktok with purpose now ???? he would (NOT) like to apologize for the nuisance he's about to become, actually

✶ the tiktoks that sirius sends u are mostly of biggg fashion accs showing off their wardrobe and doing mix n matches of diff clothing n stuff,, bcoz Duh !

✶ OH and he also sends u those rly well-made typography edits of lyrics from 70s to 80s songs because, again, DUH !

✶ he would soooooo send you those tiktoks that go "send this to ur friend and ask which berry u are!" and act all nonchalant abt it but would literally complain abt how u think of him as a raspberry, of all berries. i mean:

BUT BLACKBERRY WAS RIGHT THERE?? HOW COULD U MISS SUCH AN OPPORTUNITY??? then why did u even bother to send me this siri.... OH IM SORRY I GUESS IT WAS WRONG FOR ME TO EXPECT THAT WE'D BOTH THINK THAT I'D BE A BLACKBERRY sirius.... bffr dont 'bffr' me rn, im literally named Sirius??? treat my name w/ respect u brat!!??

✶ usually tho along with the fashion tiktoks, he'd send u the weirdest kind of shit ever. like corecore?? trippy skits??? creepy animations?? u name it, sirius will probably share it with u!

✶ if u somehow get suspiciously unresponsive in ur chat w/ him tho, which threatens the streak, he would worry loadssss like, "baby, you didn't reply to that tiktok i sent you earlier today. did i do something wrong?"

✶ ^^ kinda similar with james in a way HAHAHAH

✶ BONUS HC AS WELLLL but sirius would totally, absolutely post thirst traps of himself on tiktok.

✶ but then he'd always post them under the privacy setting of 'friends only,' and then tag u SPECIFICALLY in the captions bcoz "oh this? this is for your eyes only, love."

AHHHH OMG this is my first time doing hcs!! i hope this format was ok w u guys hue hue :3 thanks 4 reading as alwayz 🫶

#marauders #marauders au #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders x you #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x you #sirius black x you #remus lupin x you #marauders hc #marauders headcanon #foodiegoogie writes

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elllisaaa · 2 days

Note

can u do bf seungkwan thoughts please <33

BF!SEUNGKWAN who's both your partner but also your best friend.

one of his favourite things about you is that he can ramble to you without feeling you being uninterested because he knows you listen closely to every one of his words. everytime seungkwan needs to vent about a situation with someone or at work, he knows he can just yap for hours to you. and he likes it when you do the same, likes it even more when you're going on and on about a topic you like. i'm actually convinced that seungkwan keeps a list of all the things you like and dislike in his phone. on the same line, there's obviously gossiping sessions every week for the two of you - you settle with a hot drink on the couch and update each other on every ongoing drama or random thing that happened to you. that leads to seungkwan knowing every little annoying or funny person in your life, and even the names of your exes. he's the type to fake gag every time they are mentioned, but it's okay because you do the same with him. it's actually endearing how you can tease each other by making references to the things you gossip about and that only you and him understand.

"i have so many things to tell you when I get home tonight baby ! you're not gonna believe it."

seungkwan loves to spend some quality time with you. he's really busy because of his job, but every free moment he has, he spends it with you. even if it's just you coming to see him practice when you have time, or him sitting by your side while you're getting some work done, he's just happy to have your presence by his side, to feel that you're here with him. one of your rituals together is doing each other's skincare and hair. it's so relaxing to have your fingers applying creams and serum on his skin after a good shower, while you softly tell him about your day. and seungkwan does the same for you whenever you're tired, brushing your hair for you or braiding them when you don't have the energy either. another activity you love to do together is go shopping, be that for clothes, decorations items for your apartment, shoes and so on, you always have a good time and it allows him to offer some things to you. it's also an occasion to take cute pictures of the both of you on any mirror you cross, his gallery filled with these photos that he spends all his time looking at when he's away.

"i keep staring at your pretty face on my phone, i can't wait to come back to you."

another one of his love languages is physical touch. every night is worth cuddling, every time you snuggle on the couch together is worth wrapping his arms around you and pulling you on his lap, every time you cook is a chance to back hug you and kiss your shoulders. in conclusion, there's a bunch of cuddles all the time, not that you complain of course. also, seungkwan often gives you random kisses throughout the day - on your cheeks, your lips, your temples or your nose, he likes to see your cute smile every time he surprises you with another loving peck. whenever you praise him, he feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest from too much adoration, his cheeks growing red. he scolds you and asks you to stop only because he's shy and you both know it. seungkwan love for you is obvious to anybody, and that shows through the way he always finds a way to mention you in every conversation, even when you are not there. everytime he repeats a fact that you taught him, he just has to let everyone know who told him that.

"yeah, actually y/n told me that last week, she's so smart."

BF!SEUNGKWAN who is literally obsessed with your body and the way you react to his touch, wanting nothing more than to please you.

seungkwan needs to give you everything you want, you just have to ask for it. be that his fingers, his mouth, or his cock, he's ready to give them all to you. he literally worships your body every chance he gets, every time you wear something a little revealing or tighter, seungkwan loses his mind. he wants to touch you all the time, to have his hands on you all the time. he often overstimulates you unknowingly, driving you insane just because he cannot get enough of the way you look and react when you cum. your moans turns him on a lot too, he's drinking every little sound you make. sex with seungkwan is very passionate and intimate - as much contact as possible between your body and his, lots of kisses and marks all over both your skins. he's often holding your hands too - when he's fucking you lazily, when he's eating you out and even when you're going down on your knees to suck him off. seungkwan wants you to know that he loves you and cares for you throughout the whole thing.

"your body's so fucking beautiful baby, i can't get enough of you."

in fact, he loves your body so much that he needs to take more spicy pictures of you with him when he's away, or he's getting withdrawal. seungkwan has a private folder in his phone filled with videos and photos of you or the two of you to help him get off when you're not there. there's videos of you sucking him off, touching him, riding him, unraveling while he's eating you out. there's pics of you in lingerie, touching yourself, completely bare in your mirror, wearing tight clothes that makes him hard just thinking about it. he also loves to take polaroid pictures in these moments. he has to hide them very well to be sure that no one except the two of you will ever see them, but it turns him on even more to have a material object reminding him of how good you feel around him. seungkwan can be a tease sometimes, so he will put these polaroïds in your bag sometimes or around the house for you to find them at such random moments, wanting nothing more than getting you turned on enough so that it would lead to the bedroom. also, he will lose his mind if you surprise him with new polaroids of you before he goes away, slipping them in his suitcase and he doesn't notice until he unpacks at the hotel.

"you're crazy, one of the guys could have seen this !" - "does this mean you don't like them ?" - "don't start, you know i'm gonna jerk off to your gorgeous body later."

again, intimacy is really important for seungkwan whenever the two of you are having a moment. and the highest form of intimacy in his eyes is when you let him cum inside of you. sure, he likes to just pull out and watch his release cover your pretty body. sure, he liked it when you deepthroat him and make him shoot his load down in your mouth. he loves it all. but he feels even better, even closer to you when you let him cum inside of your pussy. having your legs and arms wrapped around him, your moans falling directly in his ears, his hands holding your waist, and your walls milking him dry is definitely the best feeling ever. seungkwan insisted on keeping up with the condoms for a long time - he doesn't want to be a father just yet, he wanted to be sure that you were doing okay with your contraception. but the day he sank into you raw, his world was changed and he never wanted to come back in time. it felt like heaven every time, and he came embarrassingly fast the first time, even today, he's still not used to feeling your wet cunt without any barriers.

"s-shit… you feel so good, i'm not gonna last."

#eli answering your questions #eli's anonie #seventeen #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen hard hours #seventeen hard thoughts #boo seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan #seungkwan smut #seungkwan hard hours #seungkwan hard thoughts

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etherealhannie · 2 days

Text

( oneshot ) ،، eternal admirer ،، ⌇ 원우

─────────────────────────────────────────

،، even on the days i ain't right by your side , i'm keeping my promise that i will be wherever you are ،، .ᐟ 🦋

pairing .ᐟ shy!wonwoo × fem!reader genre .ᐟ office romance au , lifetime crush word count .ᐟ 3.1k song rec. .ᐟ wherever u r ─ umi , v

note .ᐟ my playlist got the best of me─it's one of my favourite masterpiece , hope u guys love it as much as i do !

─────────────────────────────────────────

Wonwoo first noticed Y/N in primary school, when they were just children sitting in the same classroom. It was something small at first—maybe the way she focused during lessons or how her laughter was bright and genuine. He didn’t know why, but even back then, something about her presence stayed with him.

Through middle school, Wonwoo kept his distance, content with admiring her from afar. He wasn’t the kind of boy to chase someone’s attention. In fact, he often found himself tucked in corners of the classroom, quietly reading while the others played during recess. Y/N was popular—not in the loud or flashy way—but in the way everyone naturally gravitated toward her. She was kind, easygoing, and always surrounded by friends. Wonwoo’s heart quietly thrived in that space of unspoken affection, never daring to break the surface.

High school came and went. Y/N was the star student—good grades, captain of the debate team, and still as radiant as ever. Meanwhile, Wonwoo was in the background, still the quiet boy who excelled in his own way but never sought the limelight. He had accepted by then that his love for her was something that would likely never be returned. It was easier that way. They barely shared more than polite smiles, a handful of group projects, and casual greetings.

His heart, however, had a way of betraying his thoughts. No matter how much he tried to push it down, his feelings for Y/N only grew. The longing became a constant companion—a soft ache he carried silently, never acting on it. He told himself he was okay with just admiring her from the sidelines.

They ended up attending the same university. It was a coincidence that almost felt like fate, though Wonwoo never allowed himself to believe in something as whimsical as that. University was different—they shared classes again, the same building, and occasionally ran into each other at the campus café. Those run-ins were his favorite part of the week. Sometimes they exchanged a few words, just small talk, but it was enough to keep his quiet hope alive.

During their final year, there was a group assignment, and for the first time, Wonwoo found himself working closely with Y/N. It was the most interaction they’d ever had, and for once, he allowed himself to believe they were becoming friends. His heart soared every time she asked for his help or when she smiled and thanked him for something small.

Graduation came quickly after that. Wonwoo had prepared himself for a life where their paths would finally diverge. He’d never confessed his feelings, and he told himself it was for the best. She was going to move on to bigger, brighter things, and he’d be left to move on as well, as he always had.

But life had other plans.

Three months after graduation, Wonwoo found himself at a sleek new office, ready to start his first job as a data analyst. The office was large and modern, a corporate hub buzzing with young professionals. He’d only been there a week when he saw her—Y/N, walking through the glass doors as if it were completely normal that they’d end up in the same place once again. His heart skipped a beat, then two, as she caught sight of him, smiling warmly.

“Wonwoo! I didn’t know you’d be working here too,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way.

He froze for a moment, fumbling for words, before managing a soft, “Yeah, I started last week.”

From that day on, they crossed paths daily—at meetings, during lunch breaks, in the shared spaces of the office. And every time they did, Wonwoo’s heart fluttered with the same nervous energy as it had back in school. Yet, despite all the opportunities, he still couldn’t find the courage to tell her how he felt.

Then, one afternoon, a project landed on their desks. It required collaboration between departments, and to his utter shock, Wonwoo found himself paired with Y/N. They would be working closely for the next two weeks. His mind spun at the thought of spending so much time with her, but he played it cool, nodding in agreement as if his heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute.

The first meeting was nerve-wracking. Y/N sat beside him, their elbows almost touching, and all Wonwoo could focus on was the warmth radiating from her. She asked him questions about the project, listened intently to his suggestions, and for the first time, he felt like she truly saw him—not just as a classmate or colleague, but as someone important.

By the end of the project, they had spent more time together than ever before, and Wonwoo’s heart was in overdrive. Every moment felt surreal, like a dream he didn’t want to wake from. The day they submitted their final report, Y/N turned to him with a smile that nearly made his knees buckle.

“We make a pretty good team,” she said, lightly nudging his arm.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, feeling his face heat up. “We do.”

That evening, back at his shared apartment, Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement. His roommates were lounging in the living room when he burst in, practically glowing.

“You won’t believe what happened,” he blurted out, pacing back and forth.

Mingyu, sitting on the couch with a game controller in hand, raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you all worked up?”

Wonwoo could hardly stand still as he recounted every small detail—how they’d worked together, how close they’d sat, and how Y/N had smiled at him like that. His friends listened with amused grins, teasing him about his schoolboy crush.

“You’re so whipped,” Seungcheol teased, laughing.

Wonwoo didn’t care. He was giddy, like a teenager all over again. For the first time in years, he felt like maybe, just maybe, something could happen between them. The hope he’d kept buried for so long was starting to bloom, and though he didn’t know where things would lead, he was finally ready to see where this journey would take him.

For now, that smile was enough to keep his heart racing.

The next few days at work were a blur of nervous energy for Wonwoo. Every time he saw Y/N in the office, his heart would leap, and his mind would start racing with all the possibilities. He couldn’t shake the memory of their project, the casual touches, and the way she looked at him. Every moment replayed in his head, keeping him awake at night, wondering if she saw him the same way he saw her.

Despite the rush of excitement he felt inside, outwardly, he was still the same Wonwoo—quiet, reserved, and shy. He wanted to keep things normal, professional even, but his friends had other ideas.

“You’re really going to let this chance slip away?” Mingyu asked one night after work, tossing a pillow at him. “Dude, you’ve liked her since forever! Now you’re practically working together every day, and you’re just gonna stay quiet?”

Wonwoo sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “It’s not that easy, Gyu. What if she doesn’t see me that way? I don’t want to ruin everything.”

Seungcheol, who had been scrolling through his phone, chimed in. “You don’t have to confess your love out of nowhere, man. Just… get closer to her. Be her friend. See where things go.”

“I don’t even know how to do that,” Wonwoo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve been in love with her from a distance for so long. Actually being around her now feels like… I don’t know, like I’m going to mess it up.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re overthinking this, as usual. Just talk to her. You work in the same office, it’s the perfect excuse.”

As much as Wonwoo hated to admit it, his friends were right. He couldn’t keep waiting for things to happen by chance. He needed to take a step forward. But how?

The opportunity presented itself the next morning.

Wonwoo was sitting at his desk, reviewing some reports, when Y/N approached him with a hesitant smile. “Hey, Wonwoo. Do you have a moment? I could really use your help with something.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression calm. “Sure, what do you need?”

Y/N explained that she was working on a new proposal but had hit a roadblock with the data analysis. “I know you’re great with numbers, and I’m kind of struggling,” she admitted with a small laugh. “Do you think you could take a look?”

For a moment, Wonwoo couldn’t believe she was asking for his help again. His mind raced, but he nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I can take a look. Let’s go over it together.”

They ended up spending the next hour in one of the meeting rooms, poring over spreadsheets and brainstorming ideas. Wonwoo found himself relaxing as they worked, focusing more on the task at hand and less on the nervous energy buzzing inside him. Y/N was thoughtful and sharp, always open to his suggestions, and the way she engaged with him made his chest swell with a quiet pride.

As they wrapped up, Y/N turned to him with a grateful smile. “You’re seriously a lifesaver. I don’t know how I’d get through this without your help.”

Wonwoo’s face heated up, and he looked down at the table, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s nothing. You could’ve figured it out.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know about that. But seriously, thank you. You’ve been great to work with.”

Before he could respond, their phones buzzed simultaneously—lunchtime. Y/N glanced at her watch and then back at him, hesitating for a second. “Hey, do you want to grab lunch together? It’s been a while since we’ve really talked outside of work.”

Wonwoo’s mind went blank. Lunch? With her? It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a meal, but it felt different now. This was just the two of them, and he didn’t want to overthink it. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

They ended up at a cozy little café near the office, sitting across from each other with steaming cups of coffee and sandwiches. It was the most casual setting they’d been in together in years, and for the first time, Wonwoo allowed himself to relax.

“So,” Y/N started, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, “how’s it been for you, working here? It’s kind of funny that we ended up in the same place after all these years.”

Wonwoo smiled softly. “Yeah, I didn’t expect it either. It’s been good. Different from school, but… in a good way.”

Y/N nodded. “Same here. I was nervous at first, but seeing familiar faces like yours makes it a lot easier.”

His heart flipped at the mention of him making things easier for her, but he tried to keep his cool. They talked more about work, shared memories from university, and slowly, Wonwoo realized how natural it felt being around her. She wasn’t just the girl he’d admired from afar anymore; she was someone he could talk to, laugh with, and maybe even get closer to.

That evening, back at the apartment, he couldn’t contain his excitement once again. His roommates were already waiting for the update as soon as he walked through the door.

“So? How’d it go?” Mingyu asked, leaning forward with a grin.

Wonwoo tried to keep his expression neutral, but the smile that broke through was unstoppable. “We had lunch together.”

Seungcheol sat up straighter. “Lunch? Just the two of you?”

Wonwoo nodded, the warmth spreading through him as he remembered their conversation. “Yeah. It was… it was nice. Really nice.”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Look at you, getting all giddy over lunch. You’ve got it bad, man.”

“I know,” Wonwoo admitted, laughing softly. “But… I think I’m finally starting to see things move forward.”

And for the first time in years, that hope he’d held onto so tightly felt within reach.

As the days passed, the lunch with Y/N became a new routine. They started meeting up more often, sometimes in the office cafeteria, other times at the same cozy café nearby. It wasn’t anything special on the surface—just two colleagues grabbing a bite together—but to Wonwoo, it was everything. Every conversation, every shared laugh, every accidental brush of their hands felt like another step closer to something he had never let himself imagine before.

His roommates, of course, continued to tease him about it at every chance they got.

“So, any big developments?” Seungcheol asked one night, casually flipping through the channels on TV. “Did you hold hands yet?”

Wonwoo groaned, throwing a pillow at him from across the room. “No, we’re just… talking. It’s not like that.”

Mingyu, sprawled out on the couch, shot him a knowing look. “Not yet, maybe. But come on, man. You’re basically going on mini-dates every day. When are you going to make a move?”

“I’m not,” Wonwoo said quickly, though the idea of making a move had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. “We’re just friends. She probably doesn’t even see me that way.”

Seungcheol snorted. “You’re dense, dude. She’s spending all this time with you for a reason. No one’s that nice unless they want to be around you.”

Wonwoo frowned, unsure of what to believe. The thought that Y/N might feel something for him seemed too good to be true. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to have them crushed. But then again, the way she smiled at him, the way her eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary—it made him wonder. Maybe… just maybe…

The next week, everything changed.

They were working late one evening, finishing up a project that was due the next day. The office was quiet, most of the employees already gone, and it was just the two of them in the meeting room, typing away on their laptops. Wonwoo was focused on the task at hand, trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible, when Y/N suddenly broke the silence.

“Wonwoo, can I ask you something?”

His fingers paused on the keyboard, and he looked up to find her staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Sure. What’s up?”

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip like she was gathering her thoughts. “Do you… ever think about what things could’ve been like if we’d been closer back in school? Like, if we’d been better friends or… something more?”

Wonwoo’s heart slammed in his chest. Her words were casual, almost uncertain, but there was a vulnerability in them that made his pulse race. He didn��t know how to respond—didn’t know what she was really asking—but he couldn’t lie to her. Not now.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Probably more than I should.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she leaned back in her chair, exhaling a small laugh. “I always wondered about you, you know. You were so quiet, so reserved. But you were always… there. I noticed.”

Wonwoo blinked in surprise. “You did?”

“Of course I did,” she said, smiling. “I mean, you were always one of the smartest in the class, but you never tried to stand out. I thought that was interesting. You seemed… different.”

He swallowed hard, trying to process her words. All this time, he thought he’d been invisible to her, just a background character in her life. But now, sitting here with her, he realized that she’d been paying attention too.

“I always wanted to get to know you better,” Y/N continued, her voice quiet but sincere. “But I didn’t know how. You were so hard to approach.”

Wonwoo felt a lump form in his throat. He’d been so afraid of getting close to her, so afraid of rejection, that he never gave her a chance to know him. And now, here they were, years later, finally sitting across from each other, finally talking about the things that had been left unsaid for so long.

“I was… scared,” Wonwoo admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t think you’d ever be interested in someone like me.”

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze softening even more. “Why would you think that?”

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were always so… perfect. Smart, popular, surrounded by people. I didn’t think I had a chance.”

Y/N shook her head, smiling gently. “You’ve always had a chance, Wonwoo.”

The words hit him like a tidal wave, and he felt his heart swell with emotion. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond to something he’d dreamed of hearing for so long. But before he could find the words, Y/N reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against his.

“I know we’ve never been close,” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “But I’d like to change that. If you’re open to it.”

Wonwoo stared at her, his mind spinning. Was this really happening? Was she really giving him the chance he’d always wanted?

“I’d like that too,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N’s smile widened, and for the first time, Wonwoo felt like maybe—just maybe—everything he’d hoped for was within reach. They sat there for a few moments in silence, the warmth of her hand lingering on his, and for the first time in years, Wonwoo allowed himself to believe in the possibility of something more.

That night, when he returned to the apartment, his friends didn’t even need to ask.

“You’re smiling like an idiot,” Mingyu teased, grinning from ear to ear. “What happened?”

Wonwoo dropped onto the couch, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “We talked. Really talked.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And…” Wonwoo paused, still trying to wrap his head around it all. “She said I’ve always had a chance.”

The room went silent for a moment, and then Mingyu let out a loud whoop, throwing a pillow at him. “Finally! Took you long enough!”

Seungcheol laughed, clapping him on the back. “Looks like things are finally falling into place.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh along with them, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. For the first time, he felt like the walls he’d built around his heart were starting to come down, and with Y/N on the other side, maybe—just maybe—his story was only just beginning.

#fanfic #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n

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sunahsvt · 1 day

Text

—DON'T BELIEVE THE SIGNS

miya atsumu x fem!reader

+ angst (no comfort what y'all expect), lovers to exes

other tags: microcheating, LAZY WRITING, babe/baby nicknames, small cases

wc: 3.7k

note: not proud of this one but i was itching to start and finish this tonight. so :-) not proofread yet again. also if yall read this note pls drop some hq angst series in my ask box plsplspls

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR POST ANYWHERE IN OTHER PLATFORMS

atsumu loves you. he definitely does.

a year into the relationship— and six months of courting— he can say he's contented with you, and he shows it through his words and actions.

there was a time when atsumu drove past the hotel where his ex— who he once thought of was his greatest love— booked their first anniversary to.

you were on the passenger seat, your hand on his where it rests on your lap, fully unaware what was going through his mind. both his hand twitched. you, who didn't let things go unnoticed, giggled at him, brushing your thumbs on the back of his hand.

in his eyes, of course, you're his greatest love.

atsumu walks through the aisle, cart in tow. his eyes saw a chocolate bar he hasn't seen in a while— the exact chocolate bar that his ex had given him for valentine's one time.

he shook his head, asking to himself why he was still reminded of her.

he didn't think much of it the first and second time, but as time went by and more things reminded him of his past lover, he was almost convinced the universe was giving him signs that maybe he hasn't really moved on— that maybe you two weren't really meant for forever. he was almost convinced.

and because he wasn't fully convinced, he didn't do anything about it, but you were beginning to notice something was off.

"baby, did you get my chocolates?"

"yeah, it should still be inside one of the paper bags."

you jumped off of your seat, eyes tired from looking at your laptop screen due to your work from home job.

you croached down to look for the 3 musketeers chocolate you dearly love, but there was only maltesers and twix bars. you frowned.

"i don't see any muskeeters in here, babe," you whined.

his eyes furrowed, "huh? i bought maltesers. aren't those your fave?"

you shook your head, your lips forming a thin line.

atsumu's eyes widen slightly in realization, you almost didn't catch it.

the silence passed for a minute, both of you staring at each other. you weren't sure if you should confirm it, but in your mind, he didn't need to.

he mistakened her favorite chocolate as your's.

he apologized, but that doesn't mean it didn't get worse. that doesn't mean signs about his ex didn't stop showing up, and that doesn't mean it didn't gradually made him uncomfortable.

y/n: can you take out paella for dinner? cant cook tonight :-(

tsumtsum: ocake

y/n: ty! i love you!

tsumtsum: i love u

when atsumu got home that night, he had bought paella for take out good for two. being a considerate boyfriend, he made sure it wasn't seafood since you're apparently allergic to shellfish.

but when you padded your feet to the dinning room and saw the chicken and chorizo paella, your eyebrows knit together. you weren't a pick eater but seafood, especially shrimp, was your absolute favorite. you were looking forward to having seafood for dinner.

but why isn't it seafood paella?

you gulped the hurt that you were feeling rising up your throat from your chest. atsumu was too busy looking for something to drink in the fridge.

"was there no seafood available?"

he glanced over his shoulder to look at you, "what do you mean? you're allergic."

"babe."

"what?"

"i love seafood."

this time his eyes slowly closed, realizing another mistake. another thing he forgot about you.

"what are you not telling me?"

he couldn't tell you. not when he wasn't sure, so he shook his head, apologized and made up an excuse.

from there on, he kept trying to make up to you. but it just didn't feel the same anymore because it either felt like out of obligation or he was trying to cover up the other things he hurt you for. each time he does, he doesn't realize his temper was thinning.

you tried to communicate with him over and over again whenever something felt off.

but your patience, your empathy, your love can only go so far.

what he doesn't notice is he wipes his lips or cheek whenever you kiss him.

what he doesn't notice is he glowered whenever you talked.

what he doesn't notice is he stopped exerting effort.

he doesn't notice he's showing all the signs that he's gradually falling out of love.

he doesn't notice that he's losing you.

but you do.

you, the silly lover girl who didn't let things go unnoticed.

you tried one last time to communicate to him your feelings. irritated, he only said, "i'm tired of this."

so after you waited him to go to sleep, you decided to leave.

you place a hand on his forehead and kiss the back of your hand as goodbye, fearing that even in his sleep he'd find annoyance in it— that it'd wake him up or he'd wipe the kiss away even in his sleep.

that was the last time atsumu has seen you.

and he noticed now that he shouldn't have believed in the signs.

general masterlist | haikyuu masterlist

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR POST ANYWHERE IN OTHER PLATFORMS

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everythingne · 1 day

Text

double dealing: two wheeler (ls2)

there's no real need for you to get on two wheels--considering logan's four work just fine. but it comes in handy sometimes (requested by @dozyisdead, thank u love!!)

double dealing verse / last logan installment

notes/warnings: this delves into more of the 'double dealing' esc side of this whole little series sooo... illusions to planned car accidents, minor injury, smuggling documents

a call from Alex so late at night is unprecedented. Sure, its not the most random thing on the planet, but its odd considering you're not even in Austin yet. Zipping along the highway, you send him an auto reply message, a quick 'I'm on my bike, I'll stop and talk to you soon!' but the Thai driver doesn't seem to care.

He calls again. And then again, and by the time you've found a safe spot to pull off--down an exit ramp and in a gas station, he's called sixteen times.

It's two in the morning, so you park your bike to get gas anyways, and answer his incessant calls.

"Alex, what the hell is going on?" You huff out, poking the 'Regular' button on the gas pump as you hear the phone connect.

"Hey, Carrie... what highway are you on?"

Oh, motherfucker. You think, he's using codenames.

You shove the nozzle into the tank, clicking back the pump's trigger as the fuel pours out. It can't move fast enough, "Uhm... after I get gas, I'll be back on I-10, is there a problem?"

"Yeah, uh..." Alex sighs and you can picture the way he's gripping his shifter as you hear his car roaring under his voice, "Bandit's caught in the mix transporting some goods, we think there was either a mix up with Godfather's intel or if Payday's got some sort of bet going on."

You watch the price of the gas click up, your hand tensing as you wait for the meter to fill, murmuring to Alex, "Doesn't he have the newbies with him?"

"That's the reason we're calling you in." Alex's car screeches and you can imagine him Jersey sliding into an exit lane, "I'm with Lion and Shades, we're gonna divert the goods with Bandit, see if we can figure out what Payday and The Minister are doing. All I need to know is if you can fit the kids on the bike."

The loud clunk of the gas filling up has you slamming the nozzle back in its holder and closing your tank, kicking up your stand as your bike roars to life, "If Ollie can hold on to the other kid tight, then yeah, probably."

"Meet us at the Walmart in Manor--off 290." Alex says and you nod sharply, pulling out of the gas station. You're not far, like maybe twenty or so minutes out.

"Got it. See you in twenty." You say and end the call. You don't know Texas well enough, but luckily tou knew Manor was somewhat close by. You'd gotten off at Exit 720 for Brenham, following Highway 290 up to Austin. Originally planning to stop for gas and food when you got low, which ended up being in McDade.

McDade to Manor, twenty minutes roughly. But you were sure you could shorten that.

The streetlights pass in a blur of color as you dip between the few cars--and ride alongside the big rigs, in the mostly empty roads. You can't even really think, or breathe right, until you pull up alongisde three cars in the back corner of a Walmart parking lot. Which is.. painfully American. Alex's--or, Smokey's 1970 Pontiac LeMans, Max's--or The Lion's 1999 Subaru WRX, and finally George's--or Shades' 2000 Porsche Boxster.

"Here's the deal," George is quick to say as you click up your visor so they can see you better. You find taking the whole helmet off would be redundant. You'd just delay departure at that point.

"Bandit's got two newbies with him. They were supposed to be with Goss but he was out of commission. So, we figured since this is a low urgency run, it would be fine." George rubs his jaw and shrugs, "seems like someone caught wind."

"Which," Alex cuts George off, "makes no sense. No one should be going after this, it's a deal from the county police chief. If we do this run, they won't bother us with the racing, classic corruption shit, y'know? We do it everywhere, building rapport, doing favors, and what not."

Max nods, walking over to lean next to George, "Obviously, we don't want the kids--if you can call Franco a kid, I guess, in all this shit so soon. They're supposed to do the basic shit, the street racing, the parts running. Not this stuff. We also wouldn't pull you into this unless it was dire."

You nod. Logan had told you countless stories about 'ascending' through the ranks. How the most senior racers, like Fernando or Lewis, handled the most egregious shipments and situations while newer drivers like him or Oscar did base level stuff. You were also surprised to find out all of it is voluntary, and for a lifetime, when Logan did a run with Sebastian Vettel a few months back.

So, even if Logan went to Indycar or NASCAR, or wherever--if he was in the area and they needed him, and he wanted to, he would go.

"We need to get Franco and Ollie out of that car. They aren't even really indoctrinated into this all yet." George hums, "The others in the area are on a bigger drop, or just not able to come out. Hence, why we reached out to you."

"You know Bandit's driving style well." Alex hums, "and while we distract Payday and whoever's with him--I think it's... Minister, we should be able to get him to a secure location and pass the kids to you."

Max eyes your bike carefully. You can tell he's not too keen on the idea of shoving you and two lanky boys on one bike, but it's all you have. He hums, then murmurs, "Can you even fit with two of them?"

"It'll be a tight squeeze and not at all safe but... I think as long as they hold on we can make it work." You eye your bike, having absolutely no idea how to make it work, "If possible, could we do it somewhere close to a drop off point?"

"Yeah." George nods, "I can call Hotshot again and see if he's in Austin now can swing by and take them from you... probably somewhere between Austin and Cedar Park. Bandit's southbound, maybe twenty minutes out from Cedar Park now, so we should get moving."

You nod, "So I'm just trailing Bandit?"

"Pretty much." Alex nods, "stay close, follow hand gestures. We'll have to get you a radio to communicate with us for next time."

"If. There's a next time." Max hums, then nods his head to his car. George quickly follows suit, but Alex pauses to give you a fist bump.

"We got this. Don't worry about it." He smiles. As the cars roar to life, you follow suit, and out of the highway the four of you go. Just a year ago, when you had been in Australia with Logan and Oscar, when you'd gotten all tangled up in this... you hadn't owned this bike. But afte expressing your love for highspeeds and the feeling of the wind rippling across your skin, you'd sold your car and bought the bike.

Less practical, sure, but a hell of a lot more fun. Plus, Logan's car could fit your suitcases and whatever you needed for traveling, so it didn't matter to you.

The three cars in front of you move at perfect speeds, and at Alex's command, you all go dark and slowly exit off to 183, where Logan should be travelling southbound. Luckily, you are able to spot him zipping down, two cars hot on his trail. The first car dips in, a sporty Porsche Cayman, and nearly knocks the back of his car.

Logan dodges, but nearly skids into the gaps in the guard railing. You don't want to imagine it piercing his car, but you can't help it.

You grit your teeth as Alex turns on his lights and dips across the grass median with Max behind him doing the same. They bound acorss, but perfectly time slipping into the gaps in the guardrails right behind where Logan's speeding down the highway--Alex nearly plowing into the side of the Porsche.

George stays on the other side of the road and signals for you to follow him off another exit. Blowing two red lights--and praying that this run is successful so that won't come to bite you in the ass later, you end up about two miles behind Logan and the rest.

Pulling up alongside George, he waves for you to stay back, and peels forward. You stay within eyesight, but hold off a few hundred feet. You can see Alex has put himself between the Porsche--which you think is Lance's, and the Toyota 86 you know is Checo's. All three cars are a bit dented up, you assume from the cheap shot pit maneuvers Lance was attempting.

Max comes up alongside Checo, and through hand gestures, you see the Toyota come back, falling alongside George. And you're waved up. You come between the two cars and a small parcel is handed to you from Checo, and you toss it into George's passengers window--very precariously, before backing up again at your cue. You don't want to think of what it is.

Looking ahead, it seems like they're having a harder time getting Lance to get off Logan's ass, and so you drift off to follow the right hand lane as they see what they're doing.

Eventually you realize they're trying to box Lance into the left lane. Max splitting the lanes in the front, Alex on his right side with Logan ahead of him ready to peel off, and George and Checo holding up the back in the back.

You can imagine the radios filled with excessive swearing as Lance nearly ramming into the back of Max's car is met with George tapping the back of his car.

Finally, Logan dips off to an exit and you gun off, following him and glancing aside to see George swerve big time to avoid Lance just absolutely obliterating the side of his car. You follow down, flicking your headlights off when Logan does. Your heart is in your throat as Logan merges off into a side street and slows down significantly. You boht move, only lit up by streetlights, before coming to park under an overpass.

As Logan's car slows to a stop, you glance back behind you. Other than houses and trees, the area seems vacant. Logan's car shuts off and you follow suit, propping your bike up on its stand and throwing your leg over as you clamber off it and watch the three across from you.

"You guys alright?!" You shout and the three nod. Logan helping the two climb out of the back seat. Even in the hush of the back road, there's a lot of tension from Ollie and Frnaco, the two almost jittery as Logan slams the drivers door closed once they've gotten out.

You can't blame Logan for being pissed, the lives of two kids who weren't even really involved was in danger.

You take off your helmet, setting it on the seat, and make your way over to where Logan's popped open his trunk and is digging in it for something. You look over to where Franco and Ollie stand off to the side, murmuring amongst themselves, then back to Logan as he places his helmet in your hands with a bit more force than needed.

Unluckily, you catch a glimpse of what he's been asked to smuggle--a few guns, semi-automatic weaponry you try to blink out of your eyes as the trunk slams shut. It's the loudest noise in the area, other than the hum of someone's air conditioning unit down the side road.

"You can fit them?" Logan asks gruffly and you shrug, reaching out to intertwine one of your hands. A soft, soothing rub of your thumb along his skin as you hum out your reply,

"Don't have much of a choice."

Logan lets out a low whistle, and you can imagine when there's more time and more context, you'll talk about the whole thing during a late night drive. Probably back home in Florida.

"We both need to get moving." He murmurs and you nod, pulling him closer by the hand for a chaste goodbye kiss, and you're both murmuring at the other to be quick and safe. The night chill on your hand is more prominent when Logan lets go, making his way back over to his car.

Opposite of him, you make your way over to Franco and hand him Logan's helmet. Ironically, it fits well enough. So you shove your helmet on Ollie's head.

"Listen," You point at them and challenge them with your best attempt at a stern, motherly tone, "I have no idea if this is going to work, but you two need to hold onto me like you will die if you let go, because you will."

Your phone buzzes, and you look down to a text from Alex. 'District park nearby, go there.'

You quickly plug the address into your phone, luckily the place is only fifteen or so minutes away. Logan starts his car and you wave him on as he peels off into the night, and after four or five attempts, you manage to squeeze both Ollie and Franco onto the back of your bike. Driving much slower than you usually would, you take the backroads to the park, and are delighted when you see Lando waiting outside the gates.

It's a bit of an adventure getting them both off again, and as you kill your bike and pop it onto the stand, Lando claps, his voice chiming with his hysterical laughing, "I'm impressed no one fell off!"

"i almost did!" Franco complains, popping Logan's helmet off his head and shaking out his hair, "because Ollie can't sit up all the way!"

"I had nowhere to go!" Ollie whacks Franco's arm, and as you watch, you can't help but laugh to yourself. It's just absurd. How the hell did you get all tangled up in this? You have a feeling it won't be the last time.

After the Austin GP, you're sitting on Logan's trunk. Your bike is parked alongside his car, the modernity of your bike somehow working with his older bodied car.

"Ay!" A voice chimes and you glance over to where Ollie jogs over with an almost happy hop to his steps, very much like a puppy, "guess who finally got a callsign!"

"A radio nickname," A much slower Charles Leclerc trails behind Ollie, but pauses at the sight of your bike and whistles, "Nice two wheels, Logan."

Logan hums in confusion before looking at what Charles is ogling, and you can't help but giggle at the mans shock when Logan informs him the bike is yours.

"I wasn't aware your girlfriend was cooler than you." Charles smiles, crossing his arms, and Ollie launches into the story of fitting him and Franco onto the back of the bike. And now, you feel like Charles thinks bikes are death traps a little bit more, just judging the white sheen that crosses over his face in the track lights that illuminate whatever race is going on.

"Did you ever figure out why Payday was on our ass?" Ollie asks Logan, and you watch your boyfriend sigh, leaning on his trunk and smiling at Ollie.

"I did, yes.." He trails off, glances to Charles, and then out onto the track, "we'll call it... bad faith and bad intel."

"Come on, I've got a name now! I should get to know." Ollie complains, and you smile as Alex and George drag Lando and Oscar over, laughter ringing in the air. These were the moments with the racers you loved the most.

"You're just a driver." Charles hums, giving Ollie a whack on the arm in good faith, "Not even a runner yet, Ollie. Don't get a big head about it now."

Ollie nods, a little bashful, and is quickly swept off in conversation with the group about what car he's gonna get and 'not-tracks' they want to take him on to see how he can drive out on the highways. Logan pats your thigh to gain your attention, and when you glance over, Alex hands you a little box--inside, a kit for a motorcycle radio.

"We convinced Max." He smiles, "Welcome in Carrie."

You smirk, giving Alex a fistbump as Logan leans into your side, the night stars twinkling above, the rumble of cars zipping by on bet fueled races. Nights like these you could get used to. But you might need to invest in a side car or something.

double dealing taglist (open!)

@colmathgames2 @sialexia

general tag list (open!)

@d3kstar

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one fanfiction #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x y/n #ls2 x you #ls2 fanfic #ls2 x reader #alex albon fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #george russell fanfic

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finniestoncrane · 21 hours

Note

Why isn’t Oswald on the quiz team? 👀

because he took one look at the rest of us and was like “nah chief fuck this i’m out” as any sensible man would u-u

if it was just me and micah he might have said yeah but those other two??? i think he sees them like this:

#a hastily made in Instagram meme for you anon lmao #friends being friends #anon

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pinkvaquita · 2 days

Note

hey u know class of 09 right? whatd you think of the flip side (came out today, jeckas pov)

Just make a post saying that it wasn't that much good-, but guess I can make a longer one because that other one was literally just those words.

Soooo... Oh god it had so much potential. It had so much wasted potential.

Going in order of routes. Spoilers Ahead

1° Jecka Suicide.

Again... Why foot fetish!?

Like I get that maybe using other options could not be possible because is 2009 and there is no only fans. But it could have been any other thing!

Like, in the last game they show us the whole myspace prostitution circle. They could have used that to make her sell swimsuit photos or questionable poses!

If they necessary wanted to use Jeffrey, maybe they could make Jecka do shitty cosplay or voice acting manga scenes!

And even if the foot fetish was totally necessary, they didn't needed the scenes to last that long! They could have done the whole "screen goes black" timeskip thing like when Nicole attempts suicide!

And now with the whole Nicole fucked her dad thing...

That was the only part I am not complaining.

Nicole is a sociopath, and as much (Wich is literally just the bare minimum) as she appreciates Jecka, this is in character for her.

She herself said in the first game she doesn't care enough for Jecka to try to see her after graduation. She was more than fine with leaving her alone with her pedophile brother. And only cared about it untill Jecka wanted to leave her.

And honestly, she only cares about Jecka when she tries to leave her. Like in the jail ending and the dating Ari ending.

And is only in those two! Like literally, we see her witness Jecka die and go to jail in the racist endings and she doesn't care!

Even when people hate her or love her, Nicole doesn't give a fuck, and would backstab for the most simple reasons.

She literally make a whole scheme to steal Megan's boyfriend and embarrass her about it In front of anyone, just because Megan was bossy.

She abused Ari, even if she didn't do anything wrong to her. Just out of fun.

Are we really that surprised she did this to Jecka? She has done worst for less!

And also, Jecka leaved a sorry message when Nicole killed herself. Nicole didn't.

And the monologue... Oh, that was depressing. Jecka's words were so sad. Although I have one problem with this. The pic.

Why is she in her bra!? Why is she in a pose like if it is a body pillow!?

Is this some weird metaphor I am not getting????? Because this thing looks to me like another weird thing going on in the developing.

2° Jeffrey dies ending.

Same situation with the foot fetish. Why????

Now going with the end... Damn that monlogu was also good. I do appreciate the showing how the different circumstances Jecka and Nicole had growling up affect their behavior. And also, Nicole voice at the end genuinely scared me. For a whole second I thought she was gonna use Jecka's abusive background against her and talk to her like an abusive parent would.

Other than that it was... Good? I guess. I mean, Jeffrey is a total creep so I don't really care if he died.

3° FYE

What the fuck was that?????????

Seriously, that was the most out of place and boring route. It felt like it was a total different game!

The dialogue, the scenes, the ENDING????

I mean, yeah I don't find that insane that maybe there is a whole warehouse filled with illegal porn and the FBI finding it and not telling anyone.

What I do find insane is a guy giving the place information I'm a riddle, two teen girls finding it, and that somehow ending in one dead and the other being victim of human trafficking.

And the dialogue of the counselor was so weird. Like, wtf?????

The only mildly good thing is that Kelly got some screen time. But that wasn't even enough because she had zero character explanation. She is the true bimbo, give her an actual exploratory arch like Emily or Ari. Or at least make her be worth to watch like with Megan! Give my girl something to be iconic about!

4° Ari dies ending.

Jecka turning emo was not on my bingo card. Honestly I like this route more than the Jeffrey one, even if involves Ari's death and Jecka still living with his dad (Wich by the way, I was also scared everytime he was on screen.)

The party scenes felt so real. Emily acting out an calling Jecka and Nicole possers was in character. The hat man scene was unnecessary but good enough to ignore it was out of place. Jecka with black hair was EVERYTHING. OMG I feel so bad for how damaged her blonde hair got.

Now story wise, I remember seeing a YouTube comment calling this a route were Jecka becomes slowly as bad as Nicole. Literally she killed someone and instead of the regret she would normally show, it was: "That was low-key funny" and "I'm so pretty when I cry"

Good route. I can live with this one. Live, laugh, love emotionally empty Jecka.

5° Jecka's version of Nicole suicide route

This was so heartbreaking.

First. I was not expecting this from Mister Kaz. He literally was the only teacher in the whole game that seemed to not be a pedophile or racist or both. I should have seen it comming.

Jecka's scene in therapy was tugging my heart so badly. Specially because of her desperately rambling and breaking down in tears. I almost forgot that Miss Ames was racist just because she was trying to help.(although I still hate her. And even more with how she acted in the foot fetish route.)

Second, seeing that scene from the first game word by word was terrifying because that was the signal of: "you know how this is gonna end"

The intervention scene was also realistic. The break trust. The attempt to get police involved. The fear. Even more when Jecka got home and was received by her dad screaming at her. I even though he was gonna kill her.

And all that tension and horror builds and builds untill we reach the scene. We know is gonna happen. And it still hurts like hell.

Seeing Jecka standing right besides Nicole's corpse (Wich again, why Nicole got such a cinematic picture for her suicide end but Jecka instead got THAT????) while reading the suicide note was so sad.

And the final dialogue was good. I feel kinda disappointed that there wasn't a final monologue. But that scene replaces it enough.

Conclusion. This was... Meh? The only memorable and well develop ending is the fifth one. The Ari one is good but is not that much good. The suicide one has too many weird things going on to be as iconic. The Jeffrey one is both things combined. And the FYE one is bad.

And even if there is some good things.the game feels so... Bland and soulless? There is no longer the social commentary or the routes were there is some sort of fucked up justice. Neither the humor. It could be because of Jecka not being as sociopathic as Nicole. But even when Nicole got bad endings, there was still some reflection about society in those.

It could have been so better. It wasn't worth the hype.

#class of 09 #nicole class of 09 #class of 09 nicole #jecka class of 09 #co09 jecka #co09 nicole #co09 #class of 09 the flip side

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moonspirit · 2 days

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I love all the ideas of Armin planning a well thought out proposal and all but what if it was more implosive?

After a day of work, they just got in with some crappy takeout (and a box of donuts) for dinner, before sitting on the couch and starting to eat. Annie being Annie decides she can’t be arsed to eat dinner and just goes straight in for the donut as Armin watches her lovingly then…

“Marry me”

Annie being in shock chokes a little, “what?!?”

“Marry me”…”I mean like only if u want to I don’t want to for..”

“Yes”

Then later on in bed, they are cuddling together, talking about what they just said

Armin: “I’ll buy your a ring soon, we can go get one tomorrow take the morning or afternoon off”

Annie: “why don’t we just take the whole day off? Go to the court house and get married, just you and me. No need to have anyone else there just us”

“Yeah let’s do that”

They then get shouted at by everyone else cause in less than 48h they got engaged and married without telling them (mikasa, Pieck are really pissed but Connie is the most)

Ohhhhhhhhh anon! You know what's the best part of this?

It's Armin being more spontaneous!

You know, I think he could really benefit from being more "spur of the moment" every now and then, and being with Annie, it rubs off on him a little! He spends so much time hung up on planning and obsessing over perfectionism that him finally letting go and being more spontaneous is a sign he's adjusting and healthily so! T//////T

And you know, when Armin's watching Annie stuff her cheeks with sweets, it suddenly doesn't matter - that seaside proposal doesn't fucking matter. She's right here, being comfortable and adorable and so, so warm against his skin, why does it matter where he proposes?

He has to ask. Right now. Because all that matters is this happiness and moment.

What this shows is just HOW little the grandeur matters when they're both so happy and comfortable with each other - the essence is the love still tender and warm inside their hearts and ready to be that way for the rest of their lives.

He has a ring. He slips it on her finger when they're in bed, and that's that. They laugh about how quickly they've become engaged. He kisses her fingers, one by one, just lingering a bit longer on the one with the ring.

The next day... well. Mikasa's upset, Hitch is angry, Jean is pissed, Pieck's sad for changing reasons, Reiner's emotional, but Connie... CONNIE'S MAD! Because how DARE they not let him be the third wheel to their wedding! HE HAD A BUNCH OF BEST-MAN JOKES READY FOR THE BIG DAY!

#I feel you connie #I feel you :<#askies #aruani #headcanon #attack on titan #armin arlert #shingeki no kyojin #annie leonhart #snk #aot #aruannie #armin x annie

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ninyard · 3 days

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no because the being unbothered about the languages is so real. One of my friends decided when he was a kid he was just gonna learn languages because he wanted to talk to more people. So anyways he went on a Matilda like journey to the library and learned around 8 ish languages throughout his childhood. Whenever i try to tell this asshole that that’s fuckin impressive he’s just like 🤨 anyways….. *deflects to topic of conversation he thinks is more interesting* and I just have to deal with that.

it's like when people are like MASTERS at something and it's just,,, not a big deal to them at all. like people who play piano like a god and are just like "oh its not my best lol" LIKE GIRL???? DO U HEAR WHAT U JUST PLAYED???

neil is so one of those people to not understand that not everyone can be a casual polyglot without a serious amount of work and time learning all of these languages. he picks them up so easily that he doesn't register that he picks them up so easily, and that its not something that other people can just casually do. he meets bilingual people and thinks to himself "you only speak two languages?"

so when anyone tries to make a big deal out of the fact that he speaks so many different languages he's just like yeah?? and?? is that,,, not something YOU can do???

#neil not realising how talented he is until someone shakes him and says #THAT IS A SPECIAL TALENT THAT U HAVE THAT NOT EVERYONE ELSE HAS #ask

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wannabehockeygf · 13 hours

Text

hurt my feelings - elias petersson

part of the think later fic series

"She wears your number, but I got what you like, She's got you right now, but I'm still on your mind, I should've known better, You should've known better than me."

*** request: "I was wondering if you would be able to do an Elias Pettersson one? If not that’s fine, but if you do I would LOVE hurt my feelings with elias where he is in an open relationship and sleeping with the main character, but she’s in love with him yadayadayada. If you could do angst with a happy ending that would be great. Thank youuuu" summary: a more-than-stupid hookup has you feeling more than you thought it would. word count: 6k pairing: elias petersson x fem!reader warnings: nothing really, post-sex stuff? notes: - hi requester ty for waiting for so long for this. it's been in the making. - first petey fic! - not really proof read. - also the fact tate wrote this about a hockey player... cole sillinger u will always have fumbled. ***

Elias lifts his hips, pulling up a pair of sweatpants you’ve never seen in any picture of him, or anywhere else but when he’s with you. Which, admittedly, means you’re either in his car, at your dingy studio in Coal Harbour, or some other obscure spot for a quick fuck, just for him to leave right after.

You don’t want to feel this way. But the heart wants what it wants, and you want him.

Problem is, you can’t have him.

You watch him adjust his sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his hips, and feel the familiar ache in your chest, one you desperately try to ignore. His skin gleams under the dim light of the car’s dashboard, and the air inside is still thick with the heat of what you’ve just done, your clothes scattered near the passenger seat. But the warmth between you faded as soon as he reached for those pants.

The reality of it all starts to settle in, creeping up on you as you sit there, still trying to catch your breath. Your body’s exhausted, but your mind? It’s racing, swirling with all the things you don’t want to admit, not to yourself, and definitely not to him.

Elias, with his perfect nonchalance, runs a hand over the top of his head, his eyes scanning the fogged-up windows. His fingers drum against the steering wheel like it’s just another night, just another routine. And that’s what you hate the most—that it’s all so easy for him. He always makes it feel like it means nothing. Meanwhile, your heart is screaming at you to stop pretending it doesn’t.

“You want me to take you home?” His voice breaks the silence, casual, like he hadn’t just been inside you, like the intimate moments you share have no lasting weight.

You glance at him, a knot tightening in your stomach. The suggestion feels so transactional, like a one-way ticket out of his life until the next time he feels like doing this again. And you hate that you want the next time so badly.

“No,” you mutter, though your voice betrays you, shaky and unsure.

His brow lifts, a flicker of surprise, though he quickly masks it with that cool indifference. “No? You wanna stay here, or what?”

You hate how his tone makes it seem like you’re the one being unreasonable. You shift, pulling the hem of your shirt down to cover yourself, fighting the creeping embarrassment that always comes in these moments. “I just—” you hesitate, searching for words that won’t make you sound pathetic, needy. “I’m not some, like… some pit stop for you to get off and leave, Elias.”

He turns to you fully now, eyes narrowing slightly, the laid-back air around him thickening into something heavier. “What are you talking about? You knew what this was.”

Of course, you knew. You told yourself that over and over again, every time you ended up tangled in his sheets or here in his car. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less. “Yeah, I did,” you snap, the words sharper than you intended. “But I didn’t think it’d feel like this.”

“Like what?” His voice is calm, too calm, like he can’t understand why you’re spiraling.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bitterness rising. You weren’t supposed to feel anything for him, right? That was the whole point. “Like I’m some backup plan until you’re bored again.” The confession hangs in the air between you, thick and unwelcome.

He exhales slowly, turning his gaze away, staring through the windshield into nothing. For a moment, it seems like he might say something to comfort you, to give you some semblance of reassurance. But instead, all you get is a quiet, “I never promised you anything.”

And there it is—his honesty, cutting deeper than you’d expected. You should respect him for it, for being upfront, but all it does is twist the knife in your chest. “I know you didn’t,” you whisper, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “But it still sucks.”

The car falls silent again, save for the hum of the engine, and for a moment, you wish you could just crawl out of your own skin and leave the feelings behind. Maybe then you wouldn’t care about how Elias is already emotionally checked out, like this was just another night, another body. Your body, for now, but never your heart. That wasn’t part of the deal. Yet here you are, feelings clawing their way to the surface no matter how hard you try to shove them down.

“Look, if you don’t wanna do this anymore, just say it.” His voice cuts through the silence, casual as ever, but this time it has a slight edge to it. Like you’re the one being unreasonable for having, god forbid, feelings. “I told you from the start, I’m not looking for anything serious.” He shifts in his seat, pulling his hoodie down over his chest like he’s already ready to move on with his night. “I thought you were cool with that.”

You feel the words hit like a punch to the gut, the weight of them sitting heavy in your stomach. Cool with that? You’re supposed to be cool with feeling like nothing more than a convenience? Like your body is something he can dip into whenever he feels like it and then discard just as quickly? You swallow hard, trying to push back the anger that’s rising, though your hands are already trembling in your lap.

“Yeah, well,” you start, your voice barely steady as you speak, “I thought I was too.” You pause, searching for the right words, but they won’t come. How can you explain something you don’t even fully understand? “But it doesn’t mean I want to feel like… like this.”

Elias shifts again, turning toward you, his brow furrowing in confusion. His fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel, the casual rhythm so at odds with the tension building in the air between you. “Like what? You’re acting like I’m doing something wrong.” His tone is laced with mild frustration, as if he genuinely can’t grasp why you’re spiraling. And maybe that’s what makes it worse—the fact that he doesn’t get it.

You look away, staring at the streaks of condensation on the window as your vision blurs with unshed tears. “Like I’m just a body to you,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Like you only want me when it’s convenient.” The vulnerability in your words makes your skin crawl, and you hate how pathetic you feel, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Elias lets out a long sigh, rubbing his hand over his face like you’re exhausting him. “I’m not trying to make you feel like shit,” he says, his tone softening, but the detachment is still there. “I told you from the beginning, I’m not gonna settle down. This is just… fun. You knew that.”

You know he’s trying to be reasonable, but it doesn’t matter. The words feel like salt in a wound, deepening the hurt that you’re so desperate to hide. Fun. That’s all it is to him. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’m not asking you to settle down with me, Elias. I’m not fucking delusional,” you say, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “But I’m not some fucking plaything either.”

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing. “Jesus, you’re blowing this way out of proportion,” he says, his voice sharper now. “It’s not that deep. You’re making this into something it’s not.”

The dismissiveness in his tone makes your blood boil. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, a flush creeping up your neck as the anger takes hold. “Not that deep?” You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, you really don’t get it, do you?” You turn to face him, your eyes burning as you meet his gaze. “I’m not asking you for some fairytale relationship, but fuck, Elias, I deserve more than being your afterthought.”

He stares at you, expression hardening as your words hit. His jaw clenches slightly, the tension visible in the way his hands grip the steering wheel. “Again, you knew what this was,” he repeats, his voice low, controlled. “If you’re catching feelings, that’s on you. I didn’t ask for that.”

The coldness of his words stings, each one hitting like a slap. And you hate it—the fact that he’s right, that you’re the one who let your heart get involved in something that was never meant to go beyond the physical. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “You don’t think I know that?” you shoot back, your voice shaking with anger. “I didn’t ask for it either. I didn’t want this. But it’s happening, and it fucking sucks.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re being ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “We agreed this was just sex. Nothing more.”

Ridiculous. The word echoes in your mind, bouncing around like a cruel reminder of how you’ve let yourself get here, feeling something for someone who can’t even give you an ounce of what you need. Your hands tremble, and you quickly shove them under your thighs, trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart in front of him.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m ridiculous then,” you spit, the bitterness in your voice seeping into every word. You feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you blink them back, refusing to let him see just how much this is hurting you. “But I’m done with this. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

Elias looks at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite read—anger? Frustration? Indifference? You can’t tell anymore. “Whatever. I’m taking you home.” ***

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs crossed, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow across the room. Your phone rests beside you, silent, no new notifications lighting up the screen. You've been staring at it for what feels like hours, waiting for something—anything—to distract you from the gnawing emptiness settling in your chest. But, of course, nothing comes.

With a frustrated sigh, you grab your phone, thumb hovering over Instagram, knowing full well what you're about to do to yourself. You shouldn't, you know that, but the temptation is too strong. Against your better judgment, you open the app and type her name into the search bar. Her profile pops up almost immediately. There she is—her.

Elias’ girlfriend.

You click on her latest post, a snapshot of her at Rogers Arena, grinning ear to ear, wearing his jersey like it’s a crown, her hands raised above her head in mock celebration. #CanucksWin, the caption reads, followed by a string of blue and green heart emojis. She looks so… happy, like she belongs there, like she’s the one who has his heart, his attention. And maybe she is.

Your chest tightens as you scroll through her feed. Picture after picture of her and Elias at games, on vacations, laughing together, looking every bit the perfect couple. There’s one of them at the beach—Elias, shirtless and grinning, his arm slung casually over her shoulders, while she looks up at him like he’s the only person in the world. That smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners... You know that smile. You've seen it before, but not like this. Not in a way that made you feel like you’d been given something special, something real.

No, with you, it’s different. It’s fleeting, temporary. You’re just a body to him, a release when he needs it. Nothing more.

You hate it. Hate how she looks so comfortable in his world, while you're stuck on the outside, desperately clawing at the edges, trying to convince yourself that you don’t want what she has. But you do. God, you do.

You toss your phone onto the bed, resisting the urge to scream. The jealousy burns in your throat, hot and bitter, swirling with a cocktail of self-loathing and frustration. You shouldn’t care. This wasn’t supposed to matter. But here you are, scrolling through his girlfriend’s Instagram, tearing yourself apart because she has what you can’t.

The thought of her being with him—touching him, laughing with him, wearing the #40 like it was hers—makes your skin crawl. And the worst part? You can’t stop thinking about it. You can’t stop thinking about her. About how she gets to have the part of him you’ll never touch. His heart. The part that matters.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers are already moving, dialing Elias’ number. It rings once, twice, and then you hear his voice on the other end, casual, indifferent.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, like he’s not surprised at all to hear from you.

Your heart thuds against your ribs, the jealousy bubbling up into your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and you can hear the faint sound of music in the background, a soft murmur of voices. “Yeah, kind of. I’m with—” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know who he’s with. The words are already twisting in your chest, like a knife being driven deeper with every syllable.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to… meet up,” you say, trying to sound casual, like you’re not affected by the fact that he’s with her right now. “You know, for a quick one.”

Elias lets out a soft chuckle, the sound grating against your nerves. “I can’t tonight,” he says, his voice smooth, unbothered. “I’m with my girl.”

The way he says it—my girl—makes your stomach churn. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms as the anger simmers just beneath the surface. “Right,” you mutter, trying to sound nonchalant, but the bitterness seeps into your voice anyway. “Of course.”

You can practically hear his smirk through the phone. “Another time,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like this is just a game to him, and you’re a piece he can move around whenever it suits him.

“Yeah,” you force out, teeth gritting. “Sure. Another time.”

You hang up before he can say anything else, before you can hear the sound of her laugh in the background, or worse—imagine them together. The thought is enough to make your skin prickle with jealousy, the heat rising in your chest, suffocating you.

Before you know it, you're grabbing your keys, slipping on your shoes, and heading out the door. You don’t even bother to think twice. You aren’t the type to back down, not when you want something. And right now, you want Elias. You want to prove to him, to yourself, that whatever he has with her doesn’t compare to what he has with you.

By the time you arrive at his ritzy apartment in Yaletown, your heart is pounding in your chest, nerves and adrenaline mixing together in a volatile cocktail. You stare at the building for a long moment, the reality of what you’re about to do settling in. You shouldn’t be here. You know you shouldn’t be here. But the jealousy is too strong, too consuming, and all you can think about is how badly you need to see him. Need him to see you.

So, you go up the elevator. Up to whatever floor you know he’s on, the one where you can see all of Vancouver in its expensive glory, and you knock.

You stand in front of his door, knuckles still tingling from the knock, heart thundering in your chest. The hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound your own shallow breaths as you wait for him to open the door. And when it finally swings open, there he is—Elias, standing in front of you, shirtless, skin gleaming like he’s been lounging around, maybe with her. The sight of him, so casual, so at ease, only makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low but sharp, like he wasn’t expecting you, didn’t want you there. Behind him, you can hear the faint sound of a television, laughter that isn’t his. Her laugh.

Before you can respond, her voice floats from inside the apartment. “Eli? Who is it?”

Your heart clenches painfully, her voice piercing through the air like nails on a chalkboard. She sounds so… comfortable, like she belongs there. Like this is her place, her life, and you’re just an intruder.

Elias’ eyes flick to you, something unreadable passing over his face. He turns slightly, leaning into the doorframe as if shielding you from her view. “It’s nobody, älskling,” he calls back, his voice steady, but the dismissal hits you like a punch to the gut. Nobody. “Give me a minute.”

Your throat tightens as he steps into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The distance between you is small, but it feels like a chasm. He doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t reach for you. He just stands there, watching you with that same indifferent look, like you’re something to be dealt with, not someone he wants to see.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is low, but the edge is unmistakable. It stings. But not as much as the jealousy burning inside you, clawing its way up your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep it together, trying not to let him see how close you are to breaking.

“I needed to see you,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth of it tastes bitter on your tongue. You hate yourself for it, for how desperate you sound. For how desperate you are.

Elias sighs, rubbing his hand along his jaw, the muscles in his arm flexing as he does. You hate how your eyes follow the movement, how even now, when your heart is shattering, you still can’t stop wanting him. “You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, glancing back at the door like he’s afraid she might overhear. “You know I’m with her tonight.”

That word—her—sends another wave of anger crashing through you, and before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. “Yeah, I know you’re with her. I saw the Instagram posts. I saw everything.” Your voice cracks on the last word, betraying just how deep the jealousy runs, how much it hurts to see him with someone else, someone who isn’t you.

He frowns, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw her at the game, wearing your jersey, looking so damn happy, like she has everything,” you spit, the words tumbling out faster than you can stop them. “Like she has you. And she does, doesn’t she?”

Elias’ face hardens, his jaw clenching as he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s because she’s my girlfriend,” he says quietly, the calmness in his voice making your stomach twist. “And you’re… not.” The words hit you like a slap in the face, knocking the air from your lungs. "You’re not." Two little words, but they’re enough to unravel the fragile composure you’ve been clinging to. Your entire body goes rigid as the weight of his indifference sinks in. It’s like being plunged into ice water—shocking, numbing, suffocating. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. What can you say? That you know you aren’t his girlfriend? That you know you don’t belong in his world, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise? That every second of this—of him—feels like borrowed time?

Your chest tightens, jealousy wrapping around your throat like a noose, squeezing until you can barely breathe. You try to swallow it down, to keep the rising panic at bay, but it’s too much. It’s all too much. The sight of him standing there, so cold, so unreachable, while just behind that door, she laughs, probably stretched out on his couch, wearing his jersey, living the life you want. The life you can never have.

Your hands tremble at your sides, and you press them into your thighs, trying to steady yourself. But your knees feel weak, like they might give out beneath you at any second. You hate this. You hate the jealousy coursing through your veins like poison, making you feel small, insignificant, pathetic. You hate how he can do this to you, how easily he can reduce you to this—a broken, jealous mess, standing in his hallway, trying not to fall apart.

“I… I don’t care,” you choke out, though the words taste like a lie. They hang between you, brittle and fragile, crumbling the second they leave your lips. Of course, you care. You care too much. That’s the problem. The jealousy claws at your chest, each breath shallow and ragged as you try to keep the dam from bursting. But it’s too late. The cracks are already there, spidering through your resolve, threatening to split wide open.

Elias just stares at you, his brow furrowed, like he doesn’t quite understand why you’re standing there in front of him, unraveling at the seams. He uncrosses his arms, his posture softening ever so slightly, but his face remains guarded. His silence only makes the jealousy gnaw harder at your insides, like it’s eating you alive from the inside out.

“Why are you with her?” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your pounding heartbeat. You hate how vulnerable you sound, hate the way your voice cracks, betraying just how much you’re hurting. But you can’t stop yourself. The words tumble out, desperate and raw, needing to understand. Needing him to say something that makes sense. “Why are you with her when… when you don’t even care about her the way you—” You cut yourself off, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. You can’t say it. You can’t admit it.

Elias’ gaze flicks to the floor, his expression shifting, something like guilt passing over his features. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, like he doesn’t know where to start. The hesitation sets your mind racing. The jealousy swirls around your thoughts, twisting every moment you’ve spent together into something ugly, something tainted. Has any of it been real? Or have you just been fooling yourself in your delusions all along? Is this really all you are to him—a temporary distraction, something to fill the empty spaces between him and her?

“I don’t know,” Elias finally mutters, his voice barely more than a sigh. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something there, something deeper, something almost sorrowful. But then it’s gone, replaced by that familiar guarded look. “I just… I don’t know.”

The simplicity of his answer, the emptiness of it, sends a wave of frustration crashing over you, mixing with the jealousy already burning in your veins. “That’s it?” you snap, your voice rising, barely able to keep the tremor out of it. “You don’t know? You’re with her, you’ve been with her, but you don’t know why?”

You’re losing control. The words are tumbling out faster than you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy consumes you, feeding off every tiny piece of doubt, every flicker of uncertainty. You hate how much you want him to give you an answer, to explain why he’s with her and not you, why you’re standing here, outside his door, while she gets to be inside, living the life you’re so desperately clawing for.

“I—” Elias starts, his voice soft, almost apologetic, but you can’t let him finish.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” The question comes out more like an accusation, the jealousy twisting your insides, making you feel sick to your stomach. “That’s why you’re with her. Because you love her, and I’m just—” You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat. Just what? A fling? A mistake?

“I don’t—” Elias stops, running a hand across his jaw, his expression torn. He lets out a long, frustrated breath, his gaze darting back to the closed door, like he’s afraid she might hear. “It’s not like that,” he says, but his voice is quiet, hesitant, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself.

“Then what is it?” you demand, your voice shaking, barely able to keep the desperation at bay. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fight the urge to cry, to scream, to do something other than stand there, unraveling. “Because it sure as hell seems like she has you. She’s got the jersey, she’s got the smile, she’s got the fucking Instagram posts—and what do I have? What the hell do I have, Elias?”

He stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flicking between you and the door, like he’s trying to figure out what to say, but can’t. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, and you feel yourself breaking, the dam inside you cracking wide open.

“You can’t even say it, can you?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long. “You can’t even admit that you don’t care about her the way you—” You stop, choking on the words, unable to say what you so desperately want to hear.

Elias lets out another sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly, and for the first time, he looks tired. Tired of this, tired of you, tired of the mess you’ve both made of whatever this is. His eyes meet yours, and there’s something there—something almost sad. But it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally mutters, his voice low, almost resigned.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy twists and tangles inside you, tightening its grip until it feels like you’re going to burst. “I want you to say you feel something,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Anything. Just… anything.”

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his face blank, his silence louder than any words he could have said. And that silence—it shatters you. It breaks you into pieces so small you don’t even know if you can put yourself back together again.

“I can’t do this,” you finally choke out, the tears you’ve been holding back for so long spilling over, hot and fast, burning as they slide down your cheeks. You swipe at them angrily, hating yourself for breaking in front of him, for letting him see just how much he’s destroyed you. But there’s no stopping it now. The dam has broken, and the jealousy, the hurt, the love—it all comes rushing out in a tidal wave of emotion you can’t control.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whisper again, your voice cracking, barely able to hold yourself together as you look up at him, your heart in pieces at his feet. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I love you, Elias. And I hate it. I fucking hate that I love you, and you can’t even—” You stop, choking on the sob that rips through you, your whole body trembling with the force of it.

Elias’ face softens, his brows drawing together in something that almost looks like regret, but it’s too late. You’re too far gone. You’re already falling apart, the jealousy and heartbreak swallowing you whole.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low, almost tender, but it only makes the pain worse. Because sorry isn’t enough. Sorry doesn’t fix anything. Sorry doesn’t make you her.

You shake your head, the tears blurring your vision, making it hard to see him. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice hollow, broken. “Me too.”

*** The rain starts falling in steady sheets, drumming against the window as you sit curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. The flickering images mean nothing, just background noise to the storm inside your mind. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sitting there, wrapped in one of Elias’ old hoodies. The fabric is worn and soft, smelling faintly like him—like cedar and soap, like something familiar and heartbreaking all at once.

You hate that you still wear it. Hate that you can’t let go, even when you know you should. Even when you know it’s over. He chose her. He made that painfully clear, standing there in that hallway, his eyes darting between you and the door where she waited for him. And yet, here you are, clinging to the last scraps of him, like they could somehow make up for everything you’ve lost.

The rain blurs against the window, much like the tears you’re too tired to shed. You feel hollow now, emptied of all the anger, the jealousy, the heartbreak that consumed you. All that’s left is a dull ache, a quiet sorrow that settles deep in your chest, heavy and unmovable.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, sharp and unexpected in the quiet of your apartment. Your heart stutters in your chest, a flicker of hope igniting even though you tell yourself not to feel it. It can’t be him. It won’t be. And yet, as you stand and pad to the door, every step feels weighted with anticipation, your fingers trembling as they curl around the handle.

You open it to find Elias standing on the other side, the beanie on his head damp from the rain, droplets clinging to his jacket. He looks like he hasn’t slept, his eyes dark and tired, his expression unreadable as he stares at you in the dim light of the hallway.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You just stand there, your heart pounding in your ears, waiting for him to speak, to say something that would make sense of all this. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, like he’s seeing you for the first time, like the weight of his silence might crush you both.

“Can I come in?” he asks finally, his voice low, hesitant, as if he’s afraid of your answer.

You should say no. You should slam the door in his face, walk away, leave him standing there in the rain. But you don’t. Instead, you step aside, the words caught in your throat, and let him in.

He moves past you, his presence filling the small space with a tension you can feel in your bones. He stops in the middle of the room, glancing around like he’s searching for something, maybe the right words, maybe some kind of explanation. But all you can do is stand there, your hands gripping the hem of your hoodie, his hoodie, trying to steady yourself.

“I broke it off with her,” Elias says quietly, his back still to you, the words hanging in the air like they might shatter the second they leave his mouth.

You blink, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’s said. The rain beats harder against the window, filling the silence between you, a reminder of the storm both outside and within.

“What?” Your voice sounds foreign, small, like it isn’t even your own.

Elias turns slowly, his eyes meeting yours, and you see it then—the sorrow, the regret, the weight of everything that’s passed between you. He takes a step toward you, his movements cautious, like he’s not sure if you’ll let him get any closer.

“I broke it off with her,” he repeats, more firmly this time, his gaze steady, unwavering. “I know there was an agreement, but itt wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to you. I should’ve done it sooner, but… I was scared.”

Scared. That word echoes in your mind, bouncing off the walls of the tiny apartment, wrapping around you like a vise. What did he have to be scared of? He’s the one who had control, who made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for him to decide if you were worth saving.

“You hurt me,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, the rawness of the admission surprising even you.

“I know.” Elias steps closer, his hands slipping into his pockets, his posture uncertain, like he’s not sure what to do with himself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The apology should feel like relief. It should feel like something breaking free inside of you, but instead, it only makes the ache in your chest grow heavier. “You can’t just… say sorry and think it fixes everything,” you murmur, turning away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Elias doesn’t respond right away. The weight of his silence feels almost unbearable, pressing down on you like gravity. Then, after what feels like an eternity, you hear him take a deep breath, his footsteps soft on the floor as he moves closer.

“I know I can’t fix it,” he says quietly, his voice so soft it’s almost lost beneath the sound of the rain. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind from your lungs. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, searching for any hint of the indifference you’d seen before. But it’s not there. Not now. Now, his eyes are filled with something else, something raw and honest, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I love you.” The words spill from his lips, quiet but sure, like he’s been holding them back for too long. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Your chest tightens, a rush of emotions surging through you so fast you can barely process them. You want to believe him. You want to fall into his arms and let those words heal all the wounds he’s left behind. But the scars are still there, fresh and painful, a reminder of everything that came before.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears you held back earlier threaten to return.

Elias closes the distance between you in two quick steps, his hands reaching for yours. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through you, the familiarity of it both comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice low, desperate. “I’m not asking for everything. I just… I need you to know how much you mean to me. I need you to know that I choose you.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. He chooses you. After everything, after all the hurt and confusion, he’s standing here now, choosing you. But is it enough?

His fingers tighten around yours, pulling you gently toward him until you’re close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “But I love you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if you let me.”

After what feels like an eternity, you nod, a single, tentative movement. “Okay.”

Elias lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it in for hours, and without another word, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a way that feels both familiar and brand new. The warmth of him, the solid weight of his chest against yours, makes something inside you unclench, like you’re finally able to breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe him. Finally.

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