#i just got home and i want to go back already

[maiiuelle]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

“take off your top.” the man on the couch across from you barks with a toothy grin, prying eyes focused on you as he puts a bottle of beer to his lips.

you know rafe doesn’t like playing games at his parties. it’s so below him, he’d rather sit back and relax, for once leaving the chaos up to everyone else. in the comfort of his own home he can truly let loose. now that tannyhill is technically his, he couldn’t care less if someone breaks one of the gauche vases rose picked out, or puts a hole in one of the walls — he’s too busy seizing the opportunity to drink, smoke, or snort whatever he pleases.

you like it when he’s chill, it gives you the opportunity to get exactly what you want out of him. you caught him at the perfect time — nursing a drink, swirling the brown liquid in his glass as he nodded along to something topper was saying. you seized the moment, attaching yourself to his side. “come on, rafey! please, it’ll be fun!” you bounced like a little bunny, slipping your hand in his to sweeten the deal. “please, please, please — i don’t wanna play by myself.”

“nah, babe. truth or dare? that’s some fuckin’ high school shit.”

“please, just this once?” you press your cheek against his arm, pushing your cherry-glossed lips into a pout.

that’s how you end up perched on his lap, your boyfriend tucked comfortably into the couch on his porch. you’re really regretting it all now, the feeling of everyones eyes on you makes your skin crawl. you wish you could just disappear, caught like a deer in headlights, sputtering as you peer around the room.

rafe breathes out a laugh, and the room quiets in anticipation. he adjusts his position to lean forward, his hand squeezing your thigh like a stress ball.

“what’d you say?”

“i think everyone heard me.” the boy gawks, still watching you.

“that’s funny.”

“i’m not joking. it’s the game, bro.”

your face feels red hot, matching the heat you feel radiating from rafe. you’re afraid to move, your eyes only shifting to your boyfriends face, who you’ve never seen so angry.

“nah, nah, you’re real funny, man.” he hooks his hand under one of your legs, the other arm around your back to lift you up off his lap, dropping you haphazardly on the couch cushion beside the two of you as he pushes himself out of the seat to confront the kid.

“rafe!”

he’s already got the boy by the collar by the time topper and kelce try to stop him, your hands fly over your mouth as you watch it all unfold before you. rafe shakes him, “you’re a comedian, huh? you think i’m about to let you disrespect not only me, but my girl, in my fuckin’ house?” he raises his voice, everyone else completely silent as he shoves the kid toward the door. “take that shit somewhere else, get the fuck out.”

rafe’s shoulders heave, watching the boy scamper away with his tail between his legs before he turns around, looking at you. “game’s over, let’s go.” he cocks his head, and you jump out of your seat to follow him, leaving the room stuck in a stunned silence.

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team—his family—sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.

[roordismo]

winners love winning - alexia putellas

Warnings: suggestive smut MDNI 18+

Wordcount: ~1.1k

__________________________________________

You had been a barca fan as long as you could remember, being mesmerised by the likes of Iniesta and Xavi quickly turned into being a big fan of Vicky Losada and Mariona Caldentey. So when they came knocking on your door, it was an offer you simply couldn't refuse. You settled in easily, barcelona had always been your number one holiday destination and you were quickly growing fond of the team. However you liked your captain a little more than you probably should. The two of you met during an international game, swapping shirts after you lost the game, it made the loss a little easier to take. And now, she was shining for barca, playing like she always used to. She had a certain charm and you’d be flat-out lying if you said you weren’t attracted to her.

"We're going out tonight at Razzmatazz right?" You asked, as you were trying on another top. You were at Claudia's apartment with Patri and Cata, getting yourselfs ready before meeting the rest at the club. "Yes we are and your girlfriend ale, is also tagging along this time, please try to not to stare as much this time" Patri said, rolling your eyes at her comment. She teased you endlessly ever since she found about your thing for the captain. You were trying to show her a meme you saved in your tiktok favourites, but instead an edit of alexia popped up on your screen. "She's not my girlfriend, asshole" you responded whilst taking another shot. Pre-drinks at Claudia's were the usual every time you went out, it was their, and now also your way of getting ready. "We all know you wish she was" Cata mumbled, leaving you speechless looking redder than a tomato. They were planning on getting wasted and so were you, the already few days of vacation were gonna be spent on having the best time possible. First you were going out, then spending the remaining days on a group holiday, somewhere away from the public eye, preferably in Spain, before all leaving for the international break.

A few drinks in, they decided it was better to walk, the club wasn't that far away after all and some fresh air wouldn't hurt. "Mira, no more okay? Sé que todas son bromas, pero no quiero arruinar la amistad" you said in a half-whisper, holding the door open for the rest to come in. (Look, i know it's all jokes, but i don't want to ruin the friendship) You had been working on your Spanish, not feeling entirely comfortable, but it being good enough to hold proper conversations with your teammates. Unsurprisingly, Alexia was the first one you greeted "Ale! You finally stopped being boring for once!" Earning you a laugh from your captain, if only she knew how much you loved it. She was wearing quite a simple outfit, a top with a blazer and a pair of jeans, yet she still looked otherworldly. Resting your gaze onto her as she spoke to Ingrid and Mapi, your phone pinged:

- Patri: just kiss her already jesus

- me: callate, hdp (shut up, asshole)

You went back to your conversation with your captain, who was also having a conversation about the ballon d'or. It took less than a minute before your phone pinged again:

- Cata: stop eyefucking her pleaseeeee

This time you chose to ignore it, instead you sat down next to Esmee and Kika, who were talking about their holiday plans.

- you were added to "15 × 11"

You sighed, alexias and your numbers in the squad, this was in fact gonna go on the whole night.

- Clau: we've got an offer for you

- if you get with her before we leave, we'll pay for your drinks

- Cata: and if you go home with her to play cards ;) we'll also pay for your share of the group holidays

- me: i'll do it. But to make it clear, it's cause i want her, not the money.

I went up to talk to them, before shooting my shot. "I hate you guys", you said. "No you don't." Claudia responded as you walked away. You needed a drink first before you were shooting your shot. "2 shots porfa" planning on giving one to the Catalan woman. As you were giving her the glass you said "Ale, quieres bailar? Cata said you were being boring and "mature" as always, wanna prove her wrong?" This was your one chance and you weren't gonna waste a second. The music was getting louder and you weren't leaving much room for Jesus. "Que guapa eres..." (you're so hot) she breathed out, her hand tracing along your arm. "What did you say?" You asked, playing innocent even though you heard her loud and clear. "Nada, amor, nada." (Nothing, love, nothing) She turned you around, working your back into her, when you felt your phone buzzing again.

- Patri: perrear??? Se te ve la cabeza??? (grinding??? Have you lost your mind???)

“Jesus, you’re insane” you heard her mutter from behind you. It was just a matter of time before she’d give in. She pulled you away from the people into a bathroom stall, locking lips before the door even closed, her hands all over you. You kissed her back fiercely, yet letting her take control. As she kept you pinned to the thin bathroom wall, her hands started wandering. However you were snapped back to reality when you heard your phone ring.

- 15x11 is calling (videocall)

Groaning as you looked at your screen, you picked up. “What do you guys want this time?” you asked, clearly annoyed your moment got interrupted and trying to show as little of the Catalan woman next to you as possible. “We thought we lost you”, it was obvious they had seen you leave with Alexia, “but given you left with a certain someone, we think you’re all good”, they laughed, earning the finger. “amor, we’ve got some unfinished business, don’t you think?” she smiled against your lips, her hand moving along your spine. “we really do,” you replied, pressing your lips to hers once more. “My apartment it is”, as she moved away to get out of the bathroom. “We’re leaving guys!” You screamt, looking to see if your friends could hear you, as alexia was saying her goodbyes to the others.

- me: i got the girl, winners love winning

You texted, smiling whilst entering your captain's apartment. Both eager to get back to what you started.

a/n: this is my first time doing this, lmk if you got advice or anything

[hereforthehitsbaby]

prompt: hugh is your sugar daddy and he just bought you a new dress to wear at a movie premiere after party, but he cant resist wanting to take it off of you (also ur writings are fantastic 🩷)

Don’t I Look So Pretty? | Sugar Daddy!Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Hugh is 56) Secretive Relationship, Heavy Make Out, Hugh is Touchy Feely, Mentions of Smut, Mentions of Divorce, Choking, Biting, Thigh Riding, Slight Pain Kink,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for being my first ever High request! I was on the fence about doing RPF but you know what? I cannot pass up Sugar Daddy Hugh like that! Also I 100% spaced on the fact that you said after party and just wrote the premiere. I hope that was okay!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

How did you get so lucky? That was the age-old question in your mind. How did you go from working a 9-5 office job directly after getting your Masters, to now being a sugar baby? It still surprised you, knowing this was your life. A small studio apartment turned into a lavish penthouse. Your car that barely turned on anymore got upgraded to a brand-new Aston Martin; You’ve never driven it though – why would you if you have a private driver now? How you went from living and working independently to being a princess in less than a few months boggled your mind, but you wouldn’t trade it in for the world. You were happy, for the first time in a long time.

Meeting Hugh Jackman was luck of the draw. You never realized how close your old job was to his home in the city, nor to his favorite coffee shop downtown. That was your solace after long days and dreaded mornings; Extra strong coffee and a bagel was your go-to. Seeing him each time meant that your day was going to be okay, his tender smile and short but sweet conversations got you through your week. It first started off as your favorites being already paid for, not having to waste your own dime anymore. Then it was your parking lot fees being comped, gas being prepaid, food constantly being delivered – all the way up to your rent being paid in full for four months. That is when things took a turn, Hugh didn’t just chat you up to keep your company in the mornings, this time around he was setting terms. Falling into the roll of his sugar baby came so naturally, it was hard to know anything else. You felt bliss, complete happiness knowing you didn’t have to go back to your boring office job. You didn’t have to appease people who truly wanted to use you as a stepping stool for their own success, you could be free from the bullshit of it all. You never looked back, and you never would. Everything you needed was in front of you, and you wanted to keep it that way.

A year of being Hugh’s sugar baby was everything you wanted, and everything he needed. Though this was the first time he had ever asked you to come to a movie premiere with him. It was hush-hush, especially after the divorce he went through. Hugh didn’t take you on as his sugar baby for sexual reasons, but more for companionship. You both were lonely, seeking a connection and why not do it with someone who made you two feel comfortable. As time went on though, those fleeting touches and longing stares burned right through you. Ryan always said it was a match made; He could see through the charade. So here you sit in your closet, at your vanity getting your makeup done. Staring into the mirror while your personal glam team dolls you up, you reminisced about how things have been for the last year, how much happier you are, how deeply you fell in love with Hugh. Not that you’d ever admit it to him, what you had now was good. You didn’t want to ruin that.

“Alright gorgeous, you are set.” Your makeup artist smiled as your hair stylist finished up with the hairspray. Looking up into the mirror, you were taken aback by the image in front of you. You knew you were pretty, beautiful even but right now? You look ethereal. There was a glow on your face not even the makeup could cover up, the way your eyes shined like you were blissfully happy with life. You looked like a painting, nothing seemed real but a perfect portrait of a girl in love. Tears welled in the corner of your eyes as you took yourself in, gasping lowly as your makeup artist set his chin on your shoulder, smiling with you. “Those heart eyes are all you, babe. He’s going to drop to his knees when he sees you.” You couldn’t help but feel the heat creeping up your neck to fan over your cheeks, your body shivering at his words. “I hope, I really hope.” You smiled small into the mirror, heart hammering as you thought of Hugh.

Before you could even begin to silently ponder the reaction he would have to you, a line of giggles fluttered in from the open closet door, humming ensuing as the blonde bun came back in sight. “Special delivery for a special girl,” your hair stylist laughed as she held the box in her hands. You cocked a brow as you spun around in your chair, flicking a silent what in her direction before looking at her hands. An ivory box with a gentle purple ribbon tied in a bow sat in her palms, causing your heart to swell. Biting your glossed lip, you took the box slowly from her hands, seeing a little envelope with your name written out tucked beneath. As you placed the box on your lap, you reached out to run your fingers across the ink, feeling how your fingers shook with anticipation. Gently you grasped the corner of the envelope, opening the back with a quick flick of your finger before pulling the card out.

I couldn’t stop thinking about you when I saw this. I knew I needed to see you in it. Can’t wait to see my pretty girl tonight. Having you by my side is going to feel so right.

Yours, Hugh xx

If you had any doubts before, you knew now that no matter what, Hugh was going to be obsessed with you. It never crossed your mind that he was going to buy you a dress for tonight, much less get it wrapped and ready to go. Especially on such short notice, it was the little actions he did that made you love him even more. Holding the sweet note to your chest, you swooned softly as you let your free hand work the box open, seeing the pearlescent tissue paper covering your dress. Your hair stylist didn’t waste a moment to help you out, lifting the paper back so you could see what Hugh had picked. A deep sapphire blue dress, with little beads twisting to mimic vines across the bodice of the dress, all the way down well passed the hips. The sweetheart neckline perfectly complimented the sheer long sleeves that came down to your wrist.

As your makeup artist and hair stylist grabbed the dress out for you, holding it up, you noticed the deep slit up to the middle of your thigh, causing your breathing to become labored. It was stunning, truly a beauty you have never seen before. Hugh has bought you so many lavish pieces of jewelry, purses, dresses, but nothing ever so you. This didn’t feel like something perfectly curated to fit what you wanted, but something that you would’ve made yourself. Something you would’ve dreamed of wearing. The small notion that he saw this and thought of you made you want to cry – it was too sweet for you to begin. Quickly your makeup artist came over to fan your face, making sure no tears fell over his hard work. That simple action had you laughing away the emotion welling up within you, making it hard to overthink.

A couple face fanning and strategically helping you into the dress so your hair nor makeup go ruined, finally you were in your dress. It felt right against you, like truly it belonged to you, was curated for you, was meant to be for you only. Now as you stand in front of the full length mirror staring at yourself, you felt like you. The way the color complimented not just your figure, but your skin color was the best. You felt like a goddess, you felt like an angel on Earth. You felt powerful, enough to take down an entire empire. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took a deep breath as you smiled, ready to show Hugh what he had really bought for you. Your glamour team rubbed your arm and back as you began to walk out of the closet, giving you that extra boost you may need.

Thankfully living with Hugh made it so much easier to surprise him, not having to walk down a grand staircase or even stand outside of the door. Simply you could walk out of the closet, into your bedroom, and right into the living room where he was standing. His back was facing you as his front faced the fireplace, a hand pressed against the mantle as his other nursed a glass of water. In this moment you didn’t have to say anything or move an inch. Hugh could feel that you were behind him, he could smell your perfume and instantly felt his body run hot. He longed for you, each and every day. Though you two weren’t intimate, it didn’t stop the deep connection you developed with each other. Having that emotional connection was perfect, even if a physical one didn’t happen. Being a sugar daddy was new to him too; Ryan told him not to fall in love but, with you he couldn’t help it.

Slowly Hugh turned around from his position, his eyes unfocused behind his glasses. From his fuzzy vision he could make out the color of your dress, and knew he wasn’t going to be able to handle this. As his vision came back into focus, Hugh sucked a breath in, eyes dilating at what he was seeing. Starting at your face, he let his eyes wander over your features, taking in your beauty from a few steps away. He was wondering how the hell he got so lucky, how he had the fortune of existing at the same time as you, you were everything to him. Slowly his eyes careened down to your neck, ghosting over your chest and down your front. Each flick of his gaze caused your body to grow warm, the slick between your thighs growing more and more. Once his eyes fell upon the generous slit in your dress, once emerald eyes turned obsidian. His facial features never moved, they stayed in their frozen state as his eyes flicked back to you, his mouth agape.

“Woah,” Hugh breathed out, his heart pounding in his chest. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, biting your lip as you slowly made your way to him. The strawberry vanilla lotion you had used wafted through his nostrils, mixed with your perfume made him feral. It was then you noticed how his tie matched the color of your dress, causing you to feel warm and fuzzy. The little details like that made it special for you, made this relationship feel not monetary – but real. “That bad, huh?” You snorted out, running your fingers down the collar of his blazer as your eyes remained on his. You could see there was something more brewing beneath his gaze, but he wasn’t showing – he was shutting it out for his own sake. Hugh laid his hands on your lips as he looked deep into your eyes, smiling like a man obsessed. “You look perfect. I knew this dress was made for you.”

Hearing him say that made your smile turn wide, leaning forth to give him a small kiss on the cheek as you let your breath waft over his ear. “Thank you for this, Hugh. That was too kind. You’re too sweet.” They were the best set of words you could string together; Under his stare this time around, you couldn’t think coherently. The energy between the two of you had shifted – once full of pink and purple lights now swam in dark reds and emerald. It was thick, not suffocating but held you both in. You felt your body pushing against his without even thinking about it, Hugh could feel it too. Bringing his hand up to caress your jaw, his eyes fell to your lips, enraptured by the color chosen to compliment the dress. “Anything for my baby. You ready?” He smiled, his eyes never leaving your mouth. Nodding against his hand, you moved your head slightly to the side as you kissed his palm, holding your other hand against his chest. “As I’ll ever be.”

That was all Hugh needed to hear to grab your hand, bringing the back up to his lips as he let his kiss linger. Taking your hand into his, you both made your way out to the town car with his driver, making your way to the premiere.

-----

Everything that you could’ve possibly thought a red carpet for a premiere could be, you got to experience. It was a blur of lights and yelling but it was magical. Seeing how the cast latched onto Hugh and his excellence made your heart grow fond. Seeing how many of his friends came out to support him warmed your insides. Tonight was about him and his amazing performance, to be tagging along with him to experience this was a dream come true. Though you didn’t want the full red-carpet experience; Seeing the plethora of lights and cameras shuttering made you feel lightheaded. Instead, you made your way over his Hugh’s assistant, falling right behind him in step as he made his way around to interviews with Hugh. This was your choice at the end of the day, Hugh was okay with what made you feel safe, but a part of him wishes he could’ve had you on the carpet with him, showing off his girl.

Everything flew by in the snap of your fingers, interviews and pictures were completely done with now as you two made it into the packed theater. The complimentary concessions stand was buzzing to life with all the celebrities wanting a snack, the chatter gradually got quieter as people started to make their way to their seats. You could feel your nerves on edge as you looked around. Hugh leaned closer to you as he laced his arm your waist, holding you to him as he ran his thumb over the dress. Turning your face up to look at him, you could see that his brows were pulled together. He looked upset, worried even as his eyes panned around the room. It was something you have never see Hugh do before, and you wondered what was the matter. “You okay, Hugh?” You asked as you held him close, placing your lips near his shoulder

Your words seemed to have broken him out of his internal thoughts, causing him to come back into reality. “Hm? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He chimed, leaning down to lay a kiss on your temple. It felt staged, artificial. Was he nervous about all the people? About bringing you along? Was he not wanting to see someone? Too many questions placated your mind as you tried to read Hugh’s expression. You could see a small glimmer of pain in his eyes as he searched the room, his breathing become harsh. Rubbing your hand along his lower back, you placed your hip against his, leaning as close as you possibly could so only he could hear you. “You sure? You look distracted.” You knew he was, and you were silently hoping he would tell you why, but alas he looked down at you with a blank stare, trying to mask how he was feeling. “I’m okay, my darling.”

Nodding up at Hugh, you gave him a small smile as you looked back at the crowd. It was then that you heard a small gasp of success from Hugh’s lips, not giving you time to ask what was going on. Hugh was a man on a mission, and wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted. His hand wrapped to yours tightly, tugging you through the theater. As you pushed your way through the line Hugh had made for you, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his eagerness. Hugh wasn’t upset but he was excited for something, of which you could not tell. But the way he looked back at you made your skin alight in adoration, his eyes sparkling with something more than like. You felt your body run hot as he stared at you, pulling you closer. Rounding the corner near the theater entrances, Hugh noted the light blue door at the end of the hall, humming out as he started to sprint with you.

Gathering the skirt of your dress in your free hand, you made good pace with Hugh as he led you to the door. Pushing it open with ease, you were met with the brightly lit interior of the bathroom, causing you to squint slightly. The bright light threw you off your balance as Hugh fully pulled you into the bathroom, maneuvering your body while you tried to adjust to the light. As your eyes finally focused, you felt your back being pressed up against the bathroom door, locking it with a harsh click. Hugh had both of your wrists clasped into his hands, holding them strictly above your head. Your eyes went wide at the action, staring into his blackened ones, your breathing labored in comparison to his easy one. “Hugh! What-“ You yelped out, but were cut short by Hugh shaking his head. His salt and peppered beard ran over your cheek as he tucked his head down, his breath sliding across your neck. “Sshh, don’t talk. Don’t talk.”

You obeyed his command as you whimpered, letting your eyes fall closed naturally at the feeling of him pressed against you. Hugh pulled his head back from your neck as he stared down at you, bringing his left hand down to grab at your chin, pointing your face up towards him. You could see the feral nature wanting to slip out and play with you, wanting to add physical contact to your relationship. You could see how Hugh was fighting it back with each breath, the small line teetering the deeper you gazed. You didn’t want just an emotional connection anymore, you wanted to make good on your job of sugar baby, giving Hugh exactly what he needs. He could see that in your eyes as well, the conflict of whether it would be a good idea. Tonight was a night of firsts, why not add that to the menu? A slight whimper left Hugh’s mouth as you pressed your breasts to him, leaning forth to nip at his bottom lip. “Earlier you asked me if I was okay. I lied, I’m not okay.” He sounded as if he was in pain, causing a wave of arousal to slip through your lower lips.

You felt your mind going hazy at the lack of space you two had, adding to the tension you wanted to slice with a knife. “W-What’s up?” It came out more as a moan than a sincere question, and you felt Hugh’s reserve slipping away. A chuckle of arousal slipped from his parted lips as he slid his left hand from your chin, to your neck. The action itself made your body sing, your eyes rolling back as he pushed. He was holding you hard enough so you couldn’t move, but not hard enough to where you couldn’t breathe. Instead, his thumb and first finger found your pulse point, pushing down to restrict the blood flow to your head, making your sight go fuzzy. “Fuck it,” Hugh let out with a growl. There was not enough time to respond before he pressed his mouth to yours, invading your senses.

Time stopped in that moment, slowing down enough to fully take in this moment. The first kiss of your relationship with Hugh, something you two have been wanting so bad over the last year. The floodgates had broken in this moment, letting you two embark on this voyage of discovery. His lips slotting against yours like he was made for you, how your mouth formed perfectly to his. The simple flicks of your tongue against his ignited the fire from within, causing you to burn to ash and be born anew. You struggled against Hugh’s grasp, wanting nothing more than to hold him close to you, feel every ridge of his body under your palms, to feel his burning passion. As if he had read your mind, Hugh had let your hands go, deepening the kiss. A sultry moan slipped past your parted lips as he licked into your mouth, letting him swallow it down.

Your hands slid down as he released his grasp, finding purchase on his hips. Letting your left-hand maneuver upwards, you tangled your fingers into Hugh hair at the base of his neck, giving the roots a soft tug. A growl escapes his lips and pours into your mouth; His right hand working its way under the slit of your dress to hold your plush thigh. The tantalizing touch of his calloused fingers against your baren skin made you want to scream in pleasure, to let this man ravish you all across the world. Hugh pulled back, panting like an animal as he gripped at your neck tighter, his touch shaking. “I can’t stop thinking about stripping you out of this dress.” Hugh sounded like he was in pain, a primal sound you have never heard him make. He sounded like a man possessed, the only cure was to make you scream his name.

A moan slipped out of his mouth as his hand slipped between your legs, feeling how sopping your cunt was at making out with him. Feeling his fingers slide against your panties made your knees buckle. Hugh stuck his knee between your thighs to hold you up, burying his face into your neck. “God, I fucking need you baby. I can’t do this any longer.” Hearing his desperate he was for you made you feel powerful, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he ravishes your neck. Hugh’s lips latched on roughly to the skin of your throat, suckling against the sweet scent of you. His knee on the other hand, slid back and forth against you, letting your erect clit nudge the soft fabric. Everything was too much, every feeling was too much, yet you didn’t want any of it to stop.

Grinding yourself down against his thigh, Hugh took that as an opportunity to bite into your neck, not hard enough to break skin but enough to mark what’s his. That was enough to send you over the edge, digging your nails into the back of his neck as you tossed your head back against the door. Against your core thigh you could feel Hugh growing harder, silently begging to make him cum. The mere size of him shocked you, knowing he would give you a good stretch if you tried. Just the thought was enough to put you on edge, his words aiding in your arousal. “If I’m not inside of you in the next two seconds, I might pass out.” You couldn’t take it anymore, you were sweating like a bitch in heat. You needed Hugh, and needed him now. You needed to feel him inside of you, to mark you, show everyone that you are his. “Would you-“ You began, not able to finish as Hugh pulls his face back from your neck.

“Yes.” How quickly he responded made you laugh, which in turn caused Hugh to roughly press his knee against your clothed clit, sending a wave of arousal through your body. Never tearing your eyes away from his, you licked your glossed lips sensually, putting on your best innocent eyes you could muster as you spoke. “You didn’t let me-“ Hugh had heard enough to know what you meant, because he needed the exact same from you. Hugh brought his face up inches from yours, pecking your lips slightly as he groaned out, your hand gripping his erect cock through his slacks. “Would you like to go home and let me worship you? Yes, I would baby.”

-----

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @coowayeoo @craziersarah98 @tezooks @pedroscurls @logansbaby

[heesimp]

https://youtube.com/shorts/-aU455EC9QI?si=wrPfARb8dHR9wrDY

I JUST SAW THIS AND I'M GOING CRAZY???pls can we get a short drabble on this cuz I need jay deep in my guts😭

jay you are the only man to have ever

-

You really should go home. It’s late, well past midnight, and the man beside you is someone who’s given you three mind blowing orgasms already. You’re starting to feel like you might be taking up too much of his space and time.

“Stay the night,” he whispers as he kisses up the skin of your neck, his wet lips leaving a trail of spit. Not that you mind.

“It’s so late, Jay,” you argue, even though your body starts to fold and cave into his touch.

You’re both naked underneath his expensive silk bedsheets that are no doubt wet and soiled from both of you. His toned chest keeps you pressed against his mattress and your breasts squish on his warm skin that makes your body feel like electricity is constantly running from your head to your toes.

Your legs are spread before him as he’d just finished coming deep within you. His soft cock rests against your messy pussy but you can feel him inadvertently pushing up against you every time he maneuvers to kiss your jawline and neck. You can’t help but subtly roll your hips beneath him too.

“I won’t let you go home,” he whispers into your ear before licking your earlobe. “Your pussy’s too good to quit.”

You don’t want to go home. Not really. But one night stands aren’t your thing and you don’t know if Jay expects you to act like you two didn’t have sex when you inevitably leave. The gears work in your head now that you’ve came so many times and have gotten some of that sexual frustration out of your system.

Remnants of the night come back to you all at once. Jay is someone you met a few hours prior at a stuffy housewarming party. He knocked into you by accident and apologized by replacing the drink in your hand with another flute of champagne because the two of to agreed that the party was nothing more than wealthy people showing off their wealth. You were just a plus one. Jay was invited by the host. How you two ended up agreeing is beyond you.

He took you home an hour later and kept you wet on the entire drive home before stripping you of your dress, heels, and panties on his king sized bed. His home is luxurious and his bedroom alone makes you feel like you’re some sort of royalty for the night. Jay’s expert tongue and fingers made you push over the brink simultaneously while his cock had given you another two orgasms before he eventually came inside of you too. Memories of Jay pushing your head back against the wall as he fucked your mouth gets you slicked up again.

Jay sees the gears turning inside of you like clockwork and pushes his body up to kiss your lips like a passionate lover. His semi hard cock ruts against your bare pussy and the squelching of your mixed cum is like music to his ears. The sensation of grinding is too good for you to pass up but you think you like hearing Jay asking you to stay the night.

“I’ll cook you breakfast,” he says against your lips before moving back down to the other side of your neck. “You deserve a reward after letting me fuck you how I like.”

“I might need a little more convincing…”

Your hips grinding back against Jay has him smirking against your neck, nipping at the skin. “You get to cum as many times as you want until I fall asleep. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Oh yeah?”

Jay pushes himself off of your body with his cock still resting against your folds. He puts both palms on the mattress beside your head and flexes his biceps to keep himself steady as he drags the side of his cock against your wet folds. He feels the cum sticking everywhere, remnants of your orgasms dripping down onto his balls until he push up against your asscheeks. Jay judges your hole a few times and it’s enough to have you tossing your head to the side when he comes in contact with your clit.

Without using his hands, Jay sinks into you.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Stay with me.”

[hvbris]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

It seemed she hadn't lied very well, this time. Maybe she was too obviously sad, with her big red eyes and tears rolling down her cheeks. But if he had already figured out that this was goodbye, then maybe it was no use lying to him. Or maybe she just didn't have the heart to lie anymore. "Theo... I don't think they're lettin' me go," she croaked, squeezing his hand just a little bit tighter, "they won't let me leave with your parents, I reckon only my parents can pick me up from the ward and..."

"That man, Agent Davidson... He ain't gonna recruit me. He probably ain't gonna call my parents either." And even if, by some strange miracle, he did try to call her parents... well, there wouldn't be anyone on the other end of the line. "I think they were only recruitin' you."

"But you gotta go home, ok? I'm mighty glad you accepted his deal, and now you can be free, and you can become an FBI agent and do all the things you wanted to do. You don't need to worry about me. I'll be just fine. I'll find a way to get out, my own way. I'm pretty relentless, remember? I reckon they'll take the body out, but we still got that tentacle, in your cupboard. I'll show that to Dr. Heartland, and he'll have to let me go."

She couldn't tell him that she didn't belong here. That her parents were in another timeline. That a Great Old One had sent her here, and that only He could send her back home.

"You've got to promise me you'll go home, Theo."

"Yeah, we make a really great team," Theo agreed again and smiled at her but there was something in the way she spoke, just a little hint in her tone that something was wrong. His shoulders dropped a little from his excitement as he looked at her, properly. He gave over his hand hesitantly, the rules of the ward still very much ingrained in him but the comfort was nice and he was not about to refuse it while she spoke about his parents.

"'Course they will," he hummed and watched her carefully. "And your Mom and Dad too, I'm sure they'll be really glad to have you back. We've got to stay in touch!" He insisted and looked around the mostly clean room for a crayon or piece of paper to put his address down for her. "And when you get back home you have to send me a letter, ok? So I know you're safe," there was nothing suitable in the room but he thought they had time for him to just write down his address, she was supposed to be coming with him and his family, right?

He noticed she had not accepted his offer of staying with them and he turned away. Unsure what to make of it, did she understand that he lived in a trailer and that was a problem? Or did she, as he was starting to realise more and more, believe that she was not going to get out of the ward. "Mauve?" He asked as he slowly brought his attention back to her, "You're starting to make this sound like it's a goodbye?"

[act-nat-ural]

First Sight

@dira333: what if you're related or friends with the Miya twins and they accidentally or not set you up with someone on the msby roster? Meian is really cute if you know the manga, but there's also Sakusa, Hinata or Bokuto

word count: 1782

Osamu had already closed Miya Onigiri for the day, yet his two favorite moochers were still sitting at a booth consuming his food for free. He sighs, having already locked the doors, and put the chairs on top of the tables. He takes a seat next to Atsumu and joins your guys’ conversation. “I’m just sayin’,” Atsumu starts, “If yer so lonely, go out an’ meet someone. It's not that hard.”He finishes his sentence by taking a gigantic bite. He nods to himself like he made a great point, though you and Osamu are giving him side eyes. 

“And how would ya know that? Ya haven’t gone on a date in over three months.” You point out.

Osamu snorts and adds, “Last relationship I remember you cryin’ like a baby, saying’ that ya would never love again.” 

Atsumu scoffs and mumbles a “Shuddup!” while you let out a deep sigh and rest your head on the cool surface of the table. “It's not fair.” You whine. “I've got like, no love life. Why don’t ya set me up with yer hot friends?” 

They share a look for a minute, then at the same time say “No.” You scoff and slam a hand on the table. 

“Why the hell not!” 

Osamu raises his hands in defense while Atsumu enters ‘big brother mode’. “Yer our only sister, and I love ya too much to set ya up with the idiots I call friends. Yer too good for them!” You roll your eyes but he continues. “Omi probably has some secret girlfriend already, Shoyo only thinks about volleyball, and Koutaro’s.. Well, he's.. I dunno. But I don’t trust them with ya!”

You groan and give Osamu a pleading look. “Please?” He gives you a deadpan look.

“It's a hard no. I’d have to kill Rintaro if he even looked at ya wrong.” You groan and throw your hands in the air.

“Gimme a break! I’m a grown woman, I can handle myself.” They both burst into laughter, so you kick Atsumu under the table.

“Owch! Hey!” 

–

You were watching a movie at home by yourself when you heard your phone start to buzz. You glance away from the screen to see ‘Samu’ in bold letters pop up on your phone. You pause the move and check the text he sent you.

Samu: Hey. You still looking for a date?

Your eyes widen and you start to squeal. “Yes! ‘Samu for the win.” You start to celebrate prematurely when your phone buzzes again. 

Samu: I have an idea but Tsumu wouldn’t like it lolol

Your smile drops and you grab the phone to respond.

You: what does that even mean…

Samu: Sooo have you ever met his team before?

You: no, I’ve met Kiyoomi but only briefly. why?? who are you thinking of?? Omg 

Samu: that desperation is exactly what made me think of him LMAO

You gasp in offense and angrily respond, 

You: WTF DOES THAT MEAN 

Samu: anyway! 🙂 I was thinking of inviting some of the team to my place for dinner or something, you wanna come? you can’t tell Tsumu you’re coming though or he'd throw a fit or smth.

You chew on your lip in thought. On one hand, you really want to meet someone. On the other, if it ends up not working out, it could really make things awkward for your brother and his friends. You pause. He’ll be fine.

You: I'll be there :) love you!

Meanwhile, Osamu sighs and leans back against the headboard. “She better not say I never do anything for her. Hmph.”

Samu: love you too 🙄

–

Osamu was drying his hands when he heard the doorbell ring. “Comin’.” He opens the door and there stands Atsumu, Kiyoomi, Shoyo, and Kotaro. Atsmu gives a cheeky grin, holding up a case of beer.

“I come bearing gifts.” Koutaro blinks in confusion.

“But I bought it-”

“Shush.”

Osamu moves aside so they can all come in. “No one else comin’?” Kiyoomi shakes his head.

“Shugo was going to but he got caught up with something. The rest all had other arrangements.” Osamu nods in understanding. Shoyo immediately beelines for the kitchen.

“What smells so good? I’m starving!”

Kiyoomi furrows his brows stating, “You ate the whole way here.”

Just then, the doorbell rings again. This time there is no need to open the door, because you just so happen to have a key. “Hello!” You stroll in like you own the place. Osamu has to fight to hold his laugh in when he sees the look on Atsumu’s face. 

“I didn’t know what to bring so I just brought cookies. I think I burnt them though.” You mumble. Kiyoomi gives you a nod in acknowledgment as you set the platter of charred baked goods on the counter. “Soo… are ya gonna introduce me?”

“Samu. What is she doing here?” Atsumu chokes out. You scoff.

 “I’m literally standing right here.”

“What? I can’t invite our own sister to my apartment?” Osamu gives an innocent shrug. 

“This was supposed to be a guys night!” Atsumu complains childishly. 

Shoyo pipes in, “I don’t mind! The more people the better. Right, Bokuto? ��.Bokuto?”

–

If you had asked Koutaro then, he would have sworn he had never seen a more beautiful girl. The moment you walked in the door it was like he lost all of the air in his chest. He almost texted Keiji to ask what a heart attack felt like. His heart thumped in his chest and he could feel his hands start to get sweaty. Pretty girl. I’m not good around pretty girls. 

He didn’t even realize that he was being spoken to until Shoyo poked his arm. “Huh? Wha? Oh- Yes. Stay. Please.” Everyone just kind of stares at him for a moment before moving on. He accidentally stares at you while you get introduced to Shoyo, yet you don’t notice till Atsumu tries introducing him. You give a shy smile and a wave, and that's all he needs to see to know that he's a goner. 

–

You had never taken a good look at Koutaro Bokuto before this, and boy do you wish you had. Everything about him had you feeling weak in the knees. He was very built, taking up a large portion of the sofa that he was sitting on. You had snuck a glance at his back while walking in and Jesus. That man was built like a Greek god. His golden eyes seemed to never leave your figure, and he kept giving you a dopey smile. You give a small smile back and wave, hoping you don’t make a fool of yourself. Later, you swore you saw Osamu give you a thumbs up, but he denies it.

Everyone else flocks to the kitchen to start getting something to eat, yet you and Koutaro stay behind. You hesitantly sit down beside him, a few feet away. You both give sheepish smiles directed at the other, not sure what to say. Just then, Osamu comes back. “Darn. We’re out of soy sauce. Koutaro, (Name), do ya guys mind going to the market and grabbing some?” He says, not very convincingly. 

Shoyo gives him a confused look and starts, “But there was some-” 

“Shush.”

Koutaro immediately shoots up from his seat. “Yeah, we can get it!” He gives you a beaming smile and you can’t help but return in. He lends you a hand up from the sofa, practically bouncing with excitement. “We’ll be back soon.” Osamu gives you a wink and pats your back. 

“Take your time.”

You and Koutaro are silent for a while as you walk to the nearest market. You notice that while his strides are larger than yours, he slows his pace to match yours. He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes a glance around

“So, what do you do for fun?” He turns and asks suddenly. You hum in thought.

 “I guess I hang out with my brothers a lot. I watch movies alone sometimes. Work has kept me busy recently, so I haven’t been doing much recently.” He nods in understanding.

He clears his throat before inquiring, “You don’t watch movies with your boyfriend?” 

You smile and shake your head, laughing. “No, I don’t have one.” He stops walking and gawks at you.

 “Seriously?! You're single?!” You raise your eyebrows in surprise and nod slowly. 

“Yeah.. why? Is it that surprising?” He shakes his head yes enthusiastically. 

“I totally thought you’d be married or something, you're so pretty.”

You go quiet. “Really?”

“Yes! Really! Man, I thought I had like no shot.” He adds. You both freeze and look at each other wide eyed.

 “Huh?”

 “What?”

You sputter and point at him. “Ya just- ya said ya thought-” 

“I- well-!” You both stand on the sidewalk, fidgeting with your hands. He scratches his head and blushes. “Are you free tomorrow?” 

You had never said yes faster in your life.

– 

You two were dying of laughter, wiping your eyes from tears. “Man, I wish I had sisters.” You say. 

“Yeah, they're pretty cool.” He says matter of factly. You both had gotten sidetracked and never ended up going to the market. Currently, he and you were sitting on a pair of swings at a local park. Your phone buzzes softly and you apologize to him before checking it. 

Tsumu: where tf did you go 

You: don’t cockblock me <3

Tsumu: PARDON?

You click your phone to silent before turning back to Koutaro. “Now, where were we?”

–

It only took a few dates before he asked you to be his girlfriend. You agreed, of course. You would've said yes if he had asked the night you met, if you were honest. Atsumu begrudgingly gave Koutaro his blessing to propose a couple years into dating. Osamu was a bit offended that he didn't ask him, considering he was responsible for you two meeting.

Koutaro was terrible at keeping secrets, so he ended up proposing the second he got home after ring shopping. You felt a bit ambushed, having been washing dishes in unwashed pajamas, but it was still a definite yes.

Currently, Atsumu was walking up to the mic to give a speech during your wedding. You rest your head on Koutaro’s shoulder, and he intertwines your fingers. Atsumu pokes the microphone and the feedback screeches, bothering everyone.

“Ahem. Now, if anyone knows me, they know I love my sister. That, and I only want what's best for her. That having been said, I would like a ‘thank you’ for this marriage, considering it was my idea to get ya together.”

“Liar!”

note: i just realized i keep writing the twins shushing people lol. Bokuto is so fun to write for 😭 he’s so silly

[sky-is-the-limit]

How Task Force 141 would react to you breaking up with them because of their job:

Captain Price:

He’d take the news like a hit to the chest even though he’d nod as if he’d already accepted it.

The words would catch in his throat but he’d steady himself, holding onto every last thread of composure as he listened, eyes cast down on the space between you.

''I can’t blame you.'' He'd murmur, forcing a small, understanding smile. ''Not for this.''

The sadness in his blue eyes would betray him, though, no amount of practice could keep that pain out.

''Just… if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.'' His hand would linger beside yours, close but never quite reaching.

As you walked away, he wouldn’t move, not for a long while.

He would sit in the dark later that night, staring at the door, almost waiting for you to come back but deep down, he knew you wouldn’t.

Later, when he finally got into bed, he’d let the thought of you be his last and the memory of your smile his only comfort. He’d never say it aloud but part of him was already thinking about retiring.

Maybe this was it, a sign to leave it all behind, to make this mission his last and if he made it back? He’d come straight to your door, ready to give it one more try, no matter how slim the chance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

When you told him, his face would twist with disbelief, hurt, anger all colliding into a storm he couldn’t contain.

''You knew who I was..'' He’d say, his hands running through his hair as if trying to release the frustration building inside him.

"So why now? Now when I can’t fucking imagine my life without you?"

He’d demand answers, his voice rising with each one and the hurt too raw to mask, searching your eyes like he could find a reason that made it hurt less.

In the end, when he saw the finality in your face, something inside him would deflate to leave only silence as he drove you home, his grip on the wheel seeming like it hurts and the weight of each passing second sinking deep into his bones like bullets. If not worse.

That night, he’d take out his anger on the punching bag, knuckles bruising until the pain became a welcome numbness.

After every mission, though, he’d still reach for his phone, typing anyway. 'Home safe.' It was always the same and you wouldn’t respond.

Days would pass but he’d still text, still send pictures of things he found that reminded him of you. Small things. Little pieces of you that he couldn’t let go of. He’d call, just to hear your voice even though he knew you weren’t going to pick up.

At night, in the quiet of his apartment, he’d let himself sink into the scent of you that still lingered in his sheets, imagining what it would be like to have you back even if it was just for one night.

John "Soap" MacTavish:

Johnny’s heart would shatter into pieces the moment you said it. He'd try to smile but the effort was weak, failing him completely as his chest tightened.

"I get it, lass." He’d say, eyes full of the pain he tried so hard to hide so you wouldn't feel guilty. "I’d go mad if it was you out there." But that didn’t stop the deep pit of panic from swallowing him whole.

How can he wake up or go to sleep without you?

''I just…'' He’d hesitate, tears threatening to fall. ''I can’t blame you.''

But damn it, he wanted to. He wanted to yell, to scream, to tell you not to leave, that he’d do anything, anything to make it work but he couldn’t. Not like this.

So instead, he’d pull you into his arms, letting himself feel the warmth of your body, the one thing he could hold onto even if it was just for a few more minutes. His lips would find yours, slow and desperate, tasting you like it was the last time.

One kiss would turn into two and another until you both found yourselves in bed, clinging to each other with a desperation that made it feel like the world would shatter and burn when you let go.

By morning, he’d be gone, leaving his cross on the nightstand. The only physical thing he could bear to leave behind.

He’d walk out into the early dawn, each step heavier than the last, knowing he’d left his heart back with you, a piece of himself he’d never get back. Not that he wanted to.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He would expect it. He knew from the start that loving him would only end in pain but even though he saw it coming, nothing prepared him for how it would feel when you finally said the cursed words.

''I always knew it would end like this.'' He’d say, his tone flat but underneath it, there was a world of despair.

He wouldn’t beg nor try to change your mind. He couldn’t, not when he already knew how this story ends. Yet when you asked him to look at you, truly look at you, he’d turn his face and that’s when you’d see the truth in his eyes.

That pain that he’d buried so deep. ''I don’t expect you to wait. I don’t want you to bury me.''

He wouldn’t say anything else after that but you’d feel it in the silence that stretched between you both, that there was so much he wanted to confess to you but wouldn't dare.

He’d drive you to your friend’s place, eyes locked on the road ahead, and when he stopped, he’d glance over, just once and say, ''I’ll pack your things so you don’t have to come back.''

Before you could walk away one last time, his voice would crack just slightly. ''After you… there’s no one else.''

And that would be the last time you’d see him. He’d drive off, the emptiness of his heart trailing behind him and when you were out of sight, he’d finally let the tears fall.

[swappermanent]

Life In Retrospect (Part 2)

I ran my fingers along my neck again, as if expecting it to suddenly materialize, but all I felt was smooth, muscular skin. If the necklace was gone... did that mean this was permanent? The thought hit me like a jolt of electricity, raising my cock to attention.

I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t thought I wanted something so drastic. But now that it had happened—now that I was staring at the face and body of a man who was young, powerful, and exuded raw sexuality—I could see exactly why this was the wish the necklace had granted. Deep down, beneath the polite smiles and quiet resignation of age, I’d wanted this more than I could admit.

And seeing it, feeling it now… I knew it was right. This body was wasted on Mikey. But now, the thick mustache, the powerful jaw, massive shoulders, the rich, dark hair—they were all mine. All mine.

My hand drifted lower, sliding down over my—his—flat stomach until I felt the warm thickness of his cock, already hard in my grip. I moved to the bed, sinking down onto it as I leaned back and let my hands continue exploring. With one hand stroking my cock slowly, I used the other to feel up my smooth, firm chest, indulging in the primal thrill.

The pleasure built quickly, my breaths coming in shallow gasps, my new voice low and rough as I gave in completely. I stroked myself with a steady rhythm, feeling the warmth pooling in my core, spreading through every muscle, every inch of skin. The sensation was dizzying, almost overwhelming. Finally, I cameMy body tensed, a shudder running through me as waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me breathless and grinning at the ceiling as I ran a finger across my stomach and brought it up to my mouth for my first taste. Fuck I could get used to this.

---

I settled into Mikey's life with surprising ease. The next few days were a whirlwind of hanging out with his friends, hitting the gym, running around town, and just enjoying the energy that came with this young, powerful body. I felt more alive than I had in years—every step felt strong, every laugh deeper, every meal tastier. Even the simplest things, like the weight of this body as I moved, brought me a thrill of satisfaction.

But about a week and a half in, the glow started to flicker. It was subtle at first—brief flashes of weakness, a strange sense of disorientation that hit me out of nowhere. I’d chalked it up to the gym, maybe pushing myself a bit too hard, but the feeling grew worse, and by the third day, it was undeniable.

One morning, I got home from a run, feeling the most drained that I had since the swap, and sat down heavily in front of my computer. A thought nagged at me. I pulled up the site where I’d first looked up the necklace and scrolled through the pages, scanning the text with growing dread. I found the entry that had originally described the necklace’s powers and read the section again, the words coming into sharper focus than they had the first time.

"The Amulet of Wishes grants the wearer the temporary experience of their deepest, subconscious desire. The magic is designed to fade with time, gradually encouraging the wearer to take action toward meaningful changes in their own life."

Shit.

I kept reading, my eyes darting over the ancient text as I searched for a way to make this last. My heart pounded with urgency as I came across the section I’d been hoping for: the conditions for making a wish permanent.

“In most cases,” the text read, “the wishes bestowed by the Amulet of Wishes cannot be made permanent, as they are based on creation—an inherent violation of the natural laws of the universe. Thus, the magic is destined to dissipate.”

My stomach sank, but I kept going.

“However,” it continued, “there exists one exception: the wish of a body swap. Unlike creation, a swap is an exchange of essences, preserving the balance of natural order. To make such a swap permanent, the grantee must transform their new body to better reflect their unique essence—through altering mannerisms, attire, personality traits, and any distinctive aspect that marks their identity. This process convinces the amulet that the body’s former inhabitant is no longer suited to reclaim it. Only then will the necklace bind the grantee to their new form forever.”

A spark of hope flickered in my chest, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet. The entry concluded with a note on how to summon the amulet if it had already disappeared: an incantation, ancient and direct.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I whispered the words aloud. The room seemed to shift, the air crackling around me. I felt a familiar weight settle against my neck—the amulet, its cool metal pressing against my skin.

I exhaled slowly, a mix of awe and anticipation coursing through me. The first step was complete. Now, it was time to begin the ritual to claim this body as my own for good.

I stood up, looking at myself in the mirror—the sharp eyes, the rugged face, the powerful build that I’d inhabited over the last week and a half. This would take more than superficial changes; it would take commitment, subtle shifts in behavior, and the kind of confidence that came naturally to Mikey but had always eluded me.

“Alright,” I murmured to my reflection, feeling a surge of determination. “Let’s get started.”

Stay tuned for Part 3.

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit - pt.iv

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

summary: You and Jenna each reflect on your own choices and the growing tensions between you both. Torn between loyalty, responsibility, and personal longing, what does this growing conflict mean for the future of your alliance?

word count: 12.8k

————

"So, victory sex?" Hunter teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Victory sex?" You echoed, genuinely confused. "With who?"

"Who else? Your little Viper girl," he replied, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

After dropping Jenna off at home, you'd shot Hunter a quick text, asking if he wanted to come over. After the whirlwind of the race, and the intense feelings stirred up by Jenna, you needed someone to debrief with—someone who knew about the tangled situation you'd gotten yourself into. Fortunately, your mom didn't know Hunter was part of the Sinners, so he was in the clear to hang out without raising any suspicions.

"Come on, Hunter, I barely know the girl."

"Doesn't seem that way to me," he shrugs, taking a seat on your couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "You let her wear your jacket, didn't you?"

Did everyone see that?

You roll your eyes and flop down beside him, letting out a tired sigh. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say." Hunter smirks, but his teasing tone amplifies after a beat. "But there's no way you didn't feel Racer's High after winning."

You didn't need him to define Racer's High. You knew he was referring to that primal, raunchy, adrenaline rush of a feeling that overtook you once you won the race a few hours ago. You shudder remembering how much you yearned for Jenna in that moment.

"So, how are you feeling about it all? The race, the attention... her?"

You hesitate, considering how much to say. You trust Hunter—he's the only one in the crew you can really open up to, but you're also not ready to dive into the whole Jenna situation. Not with everything going on, especially since you're not sure how deep things go with Percy and this "Ghost Smoke" deal.

"I don't know," you finally say, running a hand through your hair. "The race was wild. Winning felt... intense. I get why people get hooked on that feeling."

Hunter raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"And... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this. Like, there's this whole side to racing I'm not seeing."

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching you carefully. "What do you mean?"

You glance at him, trying to gauge how much you can say without tipping too much of your hand. "I don't know, man. I've been hearing things—whispers about this new stuff called Ghost Smoke floating around Brimstone. You heard anything about that?"

Hunter's eyes narrow, and for a second, you think maybe you've pushed too far. But then he exhales slowly. "I've heard the name. It's bad news, Y/n. Real bad. That shit's spreading fast, and people are already getting hooked. Some of the younger guys are sniffing around for it. Why are you asking?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just heard it mentioned. Thought it might be connected to some of the things I've been noticing. You don't think the Vipers are involved, do you?"

Hunter goes quiet, his face unreadable. Then he leans back, crossing his arms. "I don't know, and I'm not looking to find out. You shouldn't either. Percy's been getting into things outside of racing, and if Ghost Smoke's part of that, it's not something you or anyone else in the crew wants to be tangled up in."

You nod, though his answer doesn't satisfy you. Not because you don't believe him—but because you have this sinking feeling that the situation is bigger than either of you realize.

The conversation shifts after that, and the rest of the night passes with more casual banter. But the unease never fully leaves your mind.

"Looks like Madison's got a thing for you."

You raise an eyebrow, laughing lightly. "Mikey? That girl's never even cracked a smile at me. Pretty sure she barely tolerates me."

Hunter shrugs, smirking. "Nah, trust me. She was asking about you the other day in the garage."

Your brow furrows slightly. Was it because of what I asked about Percy? A small part of you wonders if Madison's caught onto your suspicions.

"And even during the Viper and Raven races, she was giving you these weird looks."

"What does that even mean, Hunter?" You roll your eyes, half-amused, half-worried.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. "Hell if I know, but winning that race definitely got you on some people's radar."

Maybe at one point, being on the radar of a few girls would've mattered to you, but not anymore.

————

While Hunter crashed on the couch, you spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd be neck-deep in street races and shady dealings—all for the sake of a girl—you would have called them insane.

When dawn finally broke, you shuffled out of bed and headed into the kitchen, finding Hunter gone and your mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"Morning, Mom," you yawn, stretching your arms out. "Did Hunter leave already?"

"You just missed him. He said he'd be back later," she replies with a gentle smile.

You hum in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the warmth. It was in these quiet, mundane moments that you hated the path you were on more than anything. Between the mess with Jenna, the unpredictability with Percy, and the weight of secrets and family legacies, you sometimes wished you could just be normal—not tangled up in rivalries or trying to make sense of feelings you didn't dare admit.

"You've changed," your mother's voice broke you out of your thoughts, catching you mid-sip.

"Changed?" You raise a brow, joining her at the dining table. "What do you mean?"

She sighs, studying you with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You seem... happier in some ways but also more stressed. Something's weighing on you."

You stare down at your coffee, catching your own reflection in its dark surface, letting your mother's words sink in. Of course she'd notice something different—you're her child. But she's right; you have changed. And now, in this rare quiet moment in the chaos your life has become over the past month, you're finally realizing just how much. You've changed so damn much—and the thought terrifies you, especially because you can't even pinpoint when it happened.

Or you do. And that was the scary part.

A month ago Anton told you to find what's your purpose, your drive. What makes your heart race. What's worth risking everything for.

But you'd been so careful, you tell yourself. You abandoned her the first night you met, didn't even share your name—but now, she's got far more than just a name. She's got you feeding her intel, leading her through Brimstone like her own personal guide, pulling you deeper into a world you swore you'd keep at arm's length.

When did it happen? When did you start dropping her home, buying each other jackets, eating ice cream together—and, hell, when did you start racing? Racing, something you'd vowed never to do. And now here you are, about to walk into a private meeting that likely involves drug lords fueling Brimstone's biggest epidemic—all because she needs leverage on Percy. Leverage to protect herself from some mystery he's holding over her, something she still won't tell you.

You try to rationalize. She's got leverage on you, too. She's got footage of you stealing her dad's car. But deep down, you know she'd only pulled that card to hook you in. She wouldn't actually use it. You knew that. You knew her.

Except—you didn't. You didn't really know a damn thing about this girl, yet here you are, throwing caution to the wind for her. Risking everything for her. Breaking your own rules, doing things you'd avoided for the past twenty years...all because of her. And all way too fast.

Maybe it's because you're finally sitting in front of your mom, and to her, you'll always be her little girl. And facing her now, all you can see is the woman who once opened the door to find cops there, telling her that her husband, the father of her nine-year-old kid, was dead. You remember watching her piece together her shattered heart, all while carrying the weight of resentment for the racing that took him. And now, somehow, you're part of it too. How could you put her through this?

"Y/n?"

Your mom's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you lift your gaze from your coffee to her face.

"I've been calling your name for a while now. What the hell is going on with you kid?" she asks concerned.

Everything you wished you could tell her was everything you couldn't. Everything she warned you to stay away from.

"Look I know I haven't been the best mom," she sighs. "But I did it because I care. I'm strict because I know how quickly things can go south in this shithole of a town."

"You're not a bad mom, stop—"

"I can tell there's something on your mind, I don't know if it's good or bad. But I want to know Y/n/n."

Just as you were about to respond your phone pinged and of course it was Jenna.

Hey Oil spillage, just got news that the meeting moved. It's on Friday at 10p.m. now.

Wonderful news. After the realizations you just had, you were not ready to face Jenna again. In fact you would rather anything but see her. And now you can avoid her for six more days. Without replying to her message, you turn off your phone and turn your attention to your mom.

"I guess I've just been thinking about my future and what that looks like." You decide to open up a little, seeing no apparent harm.

Your mom nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbs your words. "And I also have to consider the fact that we're in Brimstone," you add, your voice dropping a notch.

She looks at you intently, searching your face for clues. "I get that this place can feel limiting, Y/n. But remember, it doesn't have to define you. You have the power to change your path."

You take a sip of your coffee, contemplating her words. "It's just...sometimes it feels like I'm caught between what I want and what I should be doing."

"And what do you want?"

"I don't know! I don't know what I want," you finish, softer now.

She squints, registering the tension in your voice. "Then, what do you think you should be doing?"

Racing. The Club. The Sinners.

But you can't say that. Not to your anti-racing mom, but clearly your face says it for you.

"Y/n," she sighs. "There's no place for you in that life."

"You don't understand, Mom! It's easy on paper to say 'stay away.' But people talk. I'm the daughter of a founding member; they expect me to be part of this."

"And how exactly are you hearing all this talk?" she asks, voice tinged with sass. "I thought I told you to stay away from Anton and that whole club."

"I am!" you lie. "But people at the warehouse still talk," you lie again. "Is working in a warehouse really what you want for me? For the rest of my life?"

"If it keeps you out of that club, then yes, a thousand times over. That club killed your father. I don't get your fascination with it!"

"Maybe I like cars! Maybe I want to feel close to him by doing something that mattered to him. You never even talk about him," you say heatedly, pushing yourself back from the table.

"Sit back down," she says, rubbing her temples.

You sit, your frustration simmering.

Your mom's eyes, usually a fortress, softened with a sigh. "You're right, I don't talk about him much. Not because he wasn't worth it, but because it's painful. But let me tell you something about your dad, something I should've told you sooner."

A shadow of confusion crossed your face.

"He was a founder, sure," she admitted, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "One of the Y/l/n brothers who started this whole thing. But that's not the part of the story that matters. Not the part that should define how you see racing."

Your heart stilled, anticipation prickling at your skin. "What do you mean, then? What's the part I'm missing?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a memory only she could see. "Your dad wanted out."

The weight of her words hung between you, more jarring than the rumble of any engine. The idea of your father—the man who had seemingly built his entire world around speed, thrill, and the camaraderie of the club—wanting to leave felt impossible.

"What do you mean, 'out'?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

She sighed, running a hand over her tired face. "He didn't start the club for the glory, Y/n. Not for the rush or to become some legend everyone would talk about. He did it because he felt trapped, and for a while, racing felt like freedom. But when things got bigger, more dangerous... he saw where it was heading. He knew it wasn't sustainable. He wanted out before it swallowed him whole."

You stared at her, trying to process this new version of the man you thought you knew. The stories you'd grown up on were all about victory, triumph, the unmatched skills of your father and the empire he helped build. But no one talked about the nights he lay awake, second-guessing the choices that led him there.

"Why didn't he leave, then?"

Her eyes glistened with a pain that seemed older than time, a sorrow she'd carried long. "He did, or... he was supposed to. That last race—the one that took him from us—it was meant to be his farewell. He promised me it would be the last time, that after that night, we would start over, somewhere far away from all of this."

You felt like the ground beneath you had shifted. The race that defined so much of your past, the race whispered about in awe and grief—it had been an ending, but not the kind you ever imagined.

"He was going to walk away?" you asked, your own voice thick with disbelief.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of old promises and lost dreams shining in their depths. "Yes," she whispered, a tear finally breaking free and rolling down her cheek. "He was tired of what it had become—the danger, the violence, the way it devoured everything good. He wanted out for you, for us. But fate had other plans."

You looked at her, seeing not just your mother but a woman who had lost everything for the sake of someone else's ambition. The image of your father—legendary racer, fearless leader—began to fracture, replaced by the vision of a man who was trapped, fighting for freedom that never came.

"And now," she said, drawing a shaky breath, "you have to decide if you're going to chase his ghost, or choose a different path."

Suddenly, the image of racing, of the thrill that had always called to you, shifted. It wasn't just the adrenaline, the wind whipping past and the engine's roar. It was what lay beneath—the fear, the drive to outrun something that couldn't be escaped.

"So, what does that mean for me?" you asked quietly.

Her fingers tightened around her cup, eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "It means you decide if racing is freedom or a cage. For your dad, it became both. You don't owe this club anything."

You sat back, absorbing the truth. Racing had always felt like destiny, an inheritance carved into the fabric of who you were. But now, for the first time, it seemed less like a birthright and more like a choice—a choice you'd have to make on your own terms.

"Do you ever... want to get out of here?" you ask, almost too quietly, afraid of the answer. "Out of Brimstone?"

A question you should've asked your mother years ago, but is only leaving you now.

She raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. It lingers in the air between you for a moment before she sighs, looking out the window to the tired streets beyond. "Sometimes," she says finally. "Sometimes I think about it, yeah. The way this place drags people in, holds them down... It scares me for you, Y/n. I don't want you trapped here. I want you to have options, a life that's bigger than this town."

"Then why do you stay?" you press, voice softer now.

A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face. "It's complicated," she says, her voice tinged with a weariness you hadn't noticed before. "Your father was here. This was where we met, built our lives, and after he... after everything, I felt like leaving would be... giving up on him. Like walking away from the one thing he was part of."

"But you don't owe this place anything," you say, echoing her earlier words back to her. "If it's just a memory keeping you here, then... maybe we both deserve better."

She nods slowly, her gaze returning to you, eyes softer, more vulnerable than you've seen in a while. "Maybe we do," she admits, voice barely a whisper. She makes a gesture with her hand of tapping a cigarette into an ash tray—a habit you noticed since you were a child. Something she does out of nervousness.

For the first time, it feels like you're seeing eye-to-eye, both carrying parts of the same burden—one that isn't really yours to carry. You've both been holding on, afraid of what letting go might mean.

You never thought you had a bad relationship with your mom. You both just worked and worked, trying to make a life for each other. Survival mode felt like autopilot—there was no time for bonding or deep conversations. Showing care meant keeping each other going, making sure you both were okay. Talking like this felt foreign, almost like a new skill you were both trying to learn. You wonder what prompted it, this sudden need to speak the things you both usually left unsaid

"So Hunter told me you had a girlfriend—"

You face palm, "for fuck sakes."

————

"Dude you told my mom I have a girlfriend?"

"She asked me if there was anyone special in your life!" He puts his hands up defensively.

You groan, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over you. What the hell are you supposed to tell your mom if she asks about this again? The image of her face pops into your mind. "Hey Mom, here's my supposed girlfriend I met at a race I snuck off to behind your back. Don't worry, she's not a Sinner—she's a Viper, though."

Luckily, Hunter had walked in earlier from whatever he'd been up to that morning, sparing you from answering your mom's question on the spot. Now, all you have to do is figure out what to say when she inevitably brings it up again.

It's still morning as you both settle into your room, falling into the familiar rhythm of your routine. You sprawl on your bed while he spins around in your chair, his energy infectious. Hunter dives into the latest gossip, animatedly sharing every detail, and you find yourself drifting in and out of his words, letting the sound of his voice wash over you.

You phone then starts ringing, and his voice suddenly stops. You glance at the screen, and let out a heavy sigh. You've really got to change her contact name.

"Who is it?" Hunter asks, hopping off the chair and leaning closer to your phone.

"Is she not your fave Viper anymore?" He jokes, sitting at the foot of your bed. "Come on, pick it up!"

You hesitate, staring at the screen as the name blinks back at you. The tension in the room shifts, Hunter's playful smirk fading as he senses your reluctance.

"Seriously? You're just going to let it ring?"

You shake your head, biting your lip. "I—I can't, Hunter. What do I even say?"

He leans forward, a look of mock seriousness on his face. "How about, 'Hey, Jenna, what's up? Oh me? I'm just living my perfectly normal life—definitely not spiraling into an identity crisis because of you?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that threatens to break through. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you know I'm right," he insists, nudging your foot with his. "Just answer it! What's the worst that could happen?"

A million thoughts race through your mind, each one heavier than the last. You're scared of what her voice will bring up—the memories, the feelings, the undeniable shift in your life since you met her. "What if she wants to see me again?"

"Uh, hello?" he raises a brow, giving you a look. "Isn't that the best-case scenario? Getting cozy with your fine, rich Summer Valley girl?"

You hesitate again, and the ringing seems to grow louder. Hunter's eyes are wide, filled with mischief and encouragement. "Come on! Just answer it already!"

"Huh, looks like I can't anymore, the ringing stopped," you smile, relieved that the ringing was cut short.

Hunter's expression shifts from playful to incredulous. "What the fuck, man? Why didn't you answer?"

You shrug, but inside, a storm of emotions brews, each thought heavier than the last. Jenna represents everything you're trying to escape, and yet everything you're drawn toward. She's the pull of a world that's dangerous, one you've seen tear lives apart—your life apart. And every second you spend with her, it feels like you're slipping further down a path you might not come back from.

You can't let that happen.

"Because I can't keep doing this," you say, the words coming out softer than you'd intended. Each moment with her feels like a step away from the life you once knew, from the version of yourself that kept your family safe. You're drawn to Jenna, but she's also a stark reminder of how much you've changed, of how close you're getting to undoing everything your mom worked so hard to protect, everything your father was trying to leave.

She makes you feel alive in ways you haven't felt in years. But that feeling comes with a vulnerability you're not sure you can handle. If you keep this up, you'll lose more than just yourself—you'll risk letting down the family that depended on you to be the strong one. The thought sends a cold chill through you.

"I don't think I'm doing the right thing, Hunter."

Hunter lets out a quiet sigh, watching you closely. "You were doing alright last night. What's got you all worked up now?"

You hesitate, the weight of it clawing at you. Saying it out loud feels like crossing a line you can't come back from. "Things just... feel different," you say, voice barely audible. "I've been doing things I never thought I would, getting in deeper than I should. I don't even recognize myself anymore."

Hunter frowns, studying you. "You're not a completely different person just because you're out there racing. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"It's not just about racing." You rub your face, trying to calm the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Jenna's got this... hold over me. She's made me cross lines I thought I'd never touch. She's tied up in a world I swore I'd stay away from."

Hunter's gaze softens, like he's trying to understand. "Maybe she's just got you seeing things differently. Doesn't mean you're losing yourself."

But that's the problem—you can feel yourself losing your grip, and the need to push her away rises, desperate, like an instinct. You know that the closer you get to Jenna, the deeper you risk sinking into something that could destroy you both. "Maybe it's better if I keep my distance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I can't let this go any further. She's in the Vipers, and that's not a world I can afford to be part of."

Hunter shakes his head, not fully understanding. "So you're just going to shut her out? Because of some fear? Even if she hasn't been around long, what you two have—it's something real—"

"No." You cut him off, a hint of desperation in your tone. "What I have with her isn't real. Not really. We just thought... we could help each other. But that's all it is."

Even as you say it, though, you can feel the lie settle in your chest, heavier than you expected.

Hunter doesn't know the whole story with Jenna and Percy, or how you got roped into digging up dirt on him. You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from saying too much. A part of you wishes you could tell him, though—because if he knew you were supposedly getting mixed up in things like Ghost Smoke, he'd be the first one pushing you to cut Jenna out of your life for good.

"Alright, let me ask you this," he says, leaning forward. "You've had your first race, you were technically a Sinner. But from what you're saying, it sounds like you've made up your mind. So, what—you're sticking to your car hijacking ways, no racing, right?"

You hesitate—even after everything your mom has told you today, and he catches it.

"There's still a part of you that wants it, Y/n. You're not sure, and that's okay. This isn't about you changing; it's about something else. Unless you can look me in the eye and say you're completely done with this racing stuff, I don't see why you have to push her away."

You don't know why either. Maybe this wasn't about racing entirely and how much you've changed. But it feels foolish now to drag yourself deeper into this world after learning your dad died trying to leave it. Point is, you need to step back before you lose yourself completely.

And as much as it hurts to admit, that might mean losing the girl who makes your heart race. Looks like you found what makes your heart race, but not what's worth risking everything for.

————

"So, should I throw the microwave at your head now or later?"

Jenna tears her gaze away from her phone, frowning at her sister. "What are you even talking about, Aliyah?"

Aliyah grins, enjoying the confusion on her sister's face. "You don't remember? You told me ages ago that if you ever fell for someone again—or got caught waiting on a text—I should throw a microwave at your head."

Jenna sighs, the memory of that ridiculous pact making her groan. "Yeah, well... Wait—hold on. I am not falling for anybody!"

Aliyah raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Says the girl who's been glued to her phone all day waiting on a text. Sounds exactly like someone not falling for anybody."

Jenna scoffs, rolling her eyes, but she can't hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm just... checking my messages. It's not that deep."

Aliyah chuckles. "Right. Not that deep. Just let me know when to start unplugging the microwave."

The older of the two shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're so dramatic."

"I just know you too well. Face it, sis—you're hooked."

Jenna scoffs, though her expression softens. "It's... complicated," she admits quietly, her fingers grazing the edge of her phone. "She's—" She stops, catching herself. She's. But she's not about to explain all that to Aliyah.

"Complicated?" Aliyah finishes, feigning shock. "You? In something complicated? Never."

"Okay, fine, enough!" Jenna laughs, trying to brush off her nerves. But her sister's words stick with her. She can't ignore the fact that she's thinking about her way more than she should be. And she knows all too well that if Percy found out, it would be a whole new problem.

Aliyah flops onto the bed, scrolling through her phone with a satisfied grin, fully aware that she's already planted the seed.

The Viper tries to focus on something else, anything else, but her mind keeps drifting back. "You're hooked."

Aliyah tilts her head, watching Jenna with a knowing look. "You don't even deny it. Whoever this person is, they've got you in knots."

Jenna rolls her eyes, trying to dismiss it, but the truth settles heavily in her chest. "It's not like that," she says, almost to herself. "It can't be."

Aliyah raises an eyebrow. "Why not? Because of Dad? Or because of that sleaze Percy?"

Jenna's jaw tightens at the mention of the men, and she looks away, fighting the urge to share too much about her mystery Brimstone girl. "Let's just say... it's not as simple as having someone in your life and calling it a day," she says finally.

Aliyah's playful demeanor fades a bit, sensing the weight in Jenna's voice. "Jenna... are you in some kind of trouble?"

For a moment, Jenna considers coming clean, but she shakes her head, forcing a smile. "When am I not in trouble?"

Aliyah's smile falters slightly, guilt seeping through her playful demeanor. She shifts in her seat, Jenna wouldn't even know this kind of trouble if it weren't for her.

Jenna catches the look in her sister's eyes and instantly regrets her words.

"Aliyah, don't," she says softly, the tension in the room shifting. "You know I don't blame you."

"I know, but I can't help feeling responsible," Aliyah whispers, looking down at her hands. The unspoken reality—that Jenna's entanglement with the Vipers was to shield Aliyah—lingered between them, heavier than any words.

"Dad shouldn't have made you—"

Jenna reaches out, squeezing her sister's hand. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever happens, I'm the one who chose to stay."

Aliyah looks up, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it's not fair. You shouldn't have to carry this for me."

Jenna offers a small, sad smile. "Family isn't about fair. It's about being there, no matter what."

Aliyah's shoulders slump as she bites her lower lip, a familiar crease forming on her brow. The guilt that's been gnawing at her shows clearly in her eyes, and Jenna's heart clenches at the sight.

"I hate this," Aliyah whispers, her voice wavering. "Every time you walk out that door, I keep wondering if you're coming back. And it's because of me."

Jenna's tough facade cracks, and she leans forward, wrapping an arm around Aliyah's shoulders. "Hey, don't go there," she murmurs. The words are steady, meant to reassure, but the tightness in her chest betrays her. For a moment, she lets herself imagine a life free of this cycle—a life where neither of them has to look over their shoulder.

"I won't be stuck for long," Jenna finally admits, a determined edge creeping into her voice. She pulls back just enough to look Aliyah in the eyes, hoping to pass on some of that conviction. "I'm working on something, alright? This isn't forever."

Aliyah searches Jenna's face, her eyes widening with hope and hints of disbelief. "You mean it?"

Jenna nods, "I mean it. I promise."

Suddenly the sadness in Aliyah's expression is replaced with a smirk, "Does she have anything to do with it?" she asks glancing at her sister's phone.

"Don't change the subject," Jenna says, trying to sound stern but unable to keep the corner of her mouth from quirking up.

Aliyah's smirk grows, the earlier heaviness giving way to something warmer, more familiar. "I knew it. Your mystery girl isn't just another risk, is she?"

Jenna rolls her eyes but can't fully suppress a small, reluctant smile. "It's complicated, Ali. She's... well, she's a lot more than I expected."

Probably the biggest risk of all, Jenna thought

Aliyah's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "Good. You deserve more than this mess, Jen."

Jenna's heart tightens at her sister's words. "Yeah," she whispers, more to herself than to Aliyah. "Maybe I do."

Suddenly an idea stirs into the younger Ortega's mind. In a swift motion, her hand darts out and snatches Jenna's phone from the bed. Before Jenna can fully process what's happening, Aliyah is already on her feet, eyes dancing with mischief as she clutches the phone to her chest like a prize.

"Aliyah!" Jenna's voice sharpens "Seriously? Hand it over."

Aliyah tilts her head playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Relax, big sister. Just checking if your mystery girl left a love note or two."

Jenna takes a step forward, trying to maintain her composure as she reaches out for the phone. "I mean it, Ali. Give. It. Back."

Aliyah shifts her weight, effortlessly dodging Jenna's reach as she chuckles. Taking advantage of the height, she holds the phone above her head, reading the chat messages. "Greaser? Pet names already?"

"Aliyah."

"Left on read for almost three hours? And here I thought you had game."

"I don't like her."

"Sure you don't," Aliyah teases, tapping the screen. "Let's see if your non-existent feelings show up when I—"

Before she can finish, the familiar ringing tone starts, and Jenna's heart drops. Aliyah's eyes widen with mock surprise. "Oops. Guess we'll see soon enough."

"Aliyah!" Jenna lunges, grabbing the phone from her sister's hand after the phone rang for a while. Without hesitation, she swiftly hits the end call button. The silence that follows crackles with tension as Jenna clutches the phone, her face flushed.

Aliyah bursts out laughing. "Wow, if that's not feelings, I don't know what is."

Jenna takes a steadying breath, unable to mask the way her pulse races. "It's not like that," she insists, more to herself than to her sister.

She couldn't help but wonder why you didn't answer your phone. You had more than enough time to answer the phone while it was ringing.

————

Two days have passed since you left Jenna's call unanswered. The rhythmic clinking of tools filled the garage as you worked tirelessly on your latest project—the stolen Aston Martin. For the past two days, the garage had been your refuge, the metallic smell of oil offering a sense of your old routine amidst the chaos. In that span, you had buried yourself in work, starting early in the morning and ending late into the night, determined to keep your mind from straying.

You stepped back to study the Aston Martin, now wrapped in a deep green that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The change from the initial black colour was supposed to help, to make the car feel less like a painful reminder of her. But as you ran your hand over the freshly smoothed surface, sighing at the ghost of memories it evoked, you realized that nothing had changed. No matter how much you worked, every inch of that car still spoke her name.

Your phone buzzed on the workbench, a sharp intrusion that pulled your attention. A name lit up the screen—Jenna's. A message providing you the address of the meeting, nothing else. Seeing her message made your chest ache with a guilt you tried to ignore. You glanced at the glowing screen, your resolve wavering for a moment before you shoved the phone into a drawer, the metallic clang echoing in the small space.

Out of sight, out of mind.

As you smoothed out the last stubborn air pockets on the Aston Martin's fresh wrap, the sound of footsteps echoed in the garage. It was nearly 1 a.m. and no one should be around at this hour.

"Y/n?"

You turned at the familiar voice, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened your expression. "Mikey?"

She walked toward you, eyes curious as they swept over the car. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Just working on a car. Needed the distraction. And you?"

Mikey tilted her head, not satisfied with the answer. "I felt like going for a drive. Thought I'd stop by first."

Her gaze shifted between you and the green Aston Martin, catching the tension in the air.

"This is the car you rolled up in with your girl right? What was on the surveillance?"

Ahh yes my girl. Now you need to come up with a believable break up story for the crew.

You clenched your jaw at her question, the mention of Jenna sending a pang through your chest. "Uh, yeah," you muttered, hoping to keep the conversation brief. Mikey's sharp intuition wasn't something to underestimate.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You sigh, "something like that, I don't really want to talk about it."

Mikey nods carefully, and deliberates her next words before speaking, "Did you want to join me on my driv—

"Okay I brought Chinese!" Hunter's voice booms through the garage.

Hunter set the bags down on a nearby workbench, the crinkling of paper and the scent of takeout breaking the heavy silence. He glanced between you and Mikey, sensing the charged atmosphere and shooting you a raised brow.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hunter asked, his usual playful tone laced with curiosity as he tossed a napkin your way.

You caught it mid-air, forcing a smirk to hide the knot in your chest. "Just working late," you replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Mikey's expression softened, the slight edge from moments ago replaced with a grin. "Nope, you're just in time. I was about to drag Y/n out for a drive," she said, her voice lighter now, as if trying to pull you into an easier conversation.

Hunter's brows lifted. "Oh? That's a miracle. She's been glued to that car for the last 48 hours" he teased, nudging your arm.

The mention of the past few days made your stomach tighten. You hadn't told Hunter or anyone else why you'd been so buried in work. The truth was, it kept you from thinking about Jenna. The guilt, the confusion—it all seemed simpler when muffled under the sound of engines and the smell of oil.

Mikey leaned against the Aston Martin, folding her arms. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here long enough. What's a quick drive gonna hurt?"

Before you could answer, Hunter grabbed a takeout container and tossed another to you. "Food first, you too Mikey. And then drive second," he said with a grin. "Don't think we'll let you skip out on both."

You took the container, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Maybe stepping away from the garage—and everything it represented—would be good for you. Even if just for a moment.

You could tell a lot about a person from how they drove, and never in a million years did you think Mikey would be a careful driver. She would teeter on surpassing street limits, but was a relatively relaxed and smooth driver.

The car rolled through the night, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads framed by dark silhouettes of trees. A comfortable silence settled among the three of you, broken only by Hunter's occasional commentary and Mikey's bursts of laughter when he cracked a particularly absurd joke.

"Remember that time you tried to drive with only three wheels?" Hunter leaned forward from the back seat, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You swore it would work."

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at the memory. "And you were the one who dared me to, you idiot."

Mikey laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "And you actually tried it? That's commitment."

"Or stupidity," Hunter added, and the three of you erupted into laughter that carried through the night, momentarily easing the tension that had wrapped itself around your chest for days.

The conversation meandered through old stories and lighthearted teasing as the car hummed smoothly down the open road. But then, in a pause between topics, Mikey glanced sideways at you, her gaze more serious. "So, do you plan on racing again anytime soon?"

The question hung in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Before you could respond, Hunter's smirk dropped. He leaned back in his seat, his voice more subdued. "Don't bother, Mads. She doesn't know."

Your eyes flicked to Mikey, watching her reaction. She didn't miss the slight hesitation in your expression, the way your hands clenched. Her brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and curiosity flashing across her face.

"Still figuring it out, huh?" she said softly. "If you haven't made up your mind yet and you're not already back on the track, it's probably a no."

You kept your gaze on the road, the rhythmic whoosh of the wind outside acting as a buffer for your thoughts. Mikey's insight stung more than you'd admit; she was right. Your lack of being back on the track had to mean something.

"Maybe," you said finally, offering no real answer. Hunter glanced between you and Mikey.

Mikey settled back in her seat, a subtle understanding flickering in her eyes as her expression softened. "Trust me," she said, her voice calm yet pointed. "Most racers, when they're trying to get something off their mind, they hit the streets and push their limits. But you? You're here, spending your nights working on a car. That says a lot about where you really want to be."

She was the first person to openly discourage you from racing, and you couldn't help but appreciate it. It felt different, almost liberating—a break from the endless pressure to prove yourself. For once, someone saw the side of you that wasn't caught up in the thrill, and it was a relief.

But there was also that suspicious part of you. Mikey was close to Anton, and she knew how much Anton wanted you in the crew. Does she fear that you'll replace her spot in the club if you join? You brush off your intrusive thoughts and try to enjoy the rest of your drive.

————

Two more days had passed since Jenna had sent the text with the updated meeting address, and the silence on the other end gnawed at her. She leaned against the balcony railing outside her room, eyes skimming the darkened city skyline in the distance each blinking light a reminder of how life pulsed and moved without pause.

The air was crisp, biting against her skin as she shivered, but it did nothing to numb the restless ache in her chest. She scrolled back through the last messages, the words on the screen staring back at her like a mockery of the certainty she'd once felt. It wasn't like you to go this long without responding, but then again what did she know about you? You were the definition of uncertainty, you couldn't figure your own shit out how could you help with hers. She should've seen the red flags for your ghosting tendencies from the first time you met. You had no reason to help her, there was no personal gain.

Aliyah's voice broke through her thoughts, calling from inside. "Jenna, you're doing it again."

Jenna blinked, tearing her gaze from the phone as Aliyah stepped out onto the balcony, eyes filled with concern.

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?" Aliyah's tone was soft, not judgmental, but knowing.

Jenna sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket as if hiding it would erase the gnawing uncertainty. "I can't help it. Something's off. She's... pulling away, I can feel it."

Aliyah's expression shifted, guilt briefly clouding her features before she masked it with a small, encouraging smile. "Maybe she just needs time. You know how it is—this life, this... chaos we're in. It's not easy."

Jenna met her sister's eyes, searching for reassurance that felt out of reach. "Yeah, maybe." But it wasn't enough. Aliyah didn't know the extent of your relationship. How you were going to help her get dirt on Percy. How you were her best bet.

Jenna had noticed for a while now that Percy was spending a lot more time in Brimstone, and that anything she could find would be found in that shady town.

"I saw the messages with her... something about a meeting? If she won't go with you, maybe I could?" Aliyah ventured, her tone eager but tentative.

Jenna's reaction was immediate, sharp. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

Aliyah crossed her arms, a defiant glint in her eyes. "Come on, Jenna. It could be good to do something together for once."

"I'm serious, Aliyah. This isn't up for discussion. It's not safe," Jenna said, her voice firm, eyes blazing with protectiveness.

Aliyah lifted her chin, stubbornness radiating from her. "Too late. I don't care," she declared, turning on her heel and striding out before Jenna could argue.

"Aliyah, wait—"

Jenna's phone pinged, jolting her from the tense silence that followed Aliyah's departure. For a split second, hope fluttered in her chest—a foolish, fragile thing—as she thought it might be you, breaking the days of silence that gnawed at her. But that hope quickly crumbled as she glanced at the screen.

It was from Percy.

Get yourself dolled up. Race tomorrow night. Be there. And you're on my arm. Look the part, don't embarrass me.

Jenna stared at the messages, her fingers itching to throw the phone across the room. He knew exactly how much he got under her skin and used it at every opportunity. And tonight was no different; he needed her there, not just as a racer, but as his accessory, some trophy to drape over his arm. Like she was at the Sinner race almost a month ago. It was a power move, one he'd pulled too many times, trying to keep her bound to him and his schemes.

Another ping. Don't even think about bailing. You know what happens when I'm not happy.

Jenna scoffed, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could imagine Percy already preening in the mirror, smugly counting on her to show up, loyal and subservient as always. She could almost hear his oily tone, the mock concern he would flash when she hesitated, only to follow it with another thinly veiled threat. Percy loved to remind her how "lucky" she was that he'd given her a place in the Vipers—and what a shame it would be to lose it.

Jenna pushed away from the railing, the metallic chill of it seeping through her skin as she stood upright. The city lights looked dull now, swallowed by the storm brewing in her mind. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of her tempted to tell Percy to shove it. But she knew better. Defying him could mean losing her only leverage, the tiny foothold she had in this game of shadows and lies.

With a sharp sigh, she typed out a reply, each keystroke feeling like a betrayal to herself.

Swallowing her disgust, she replied. Fine. I'll be there.

It was almost too easy to imagine the smirk that would be stretching across his face as he read her reply. She could feel her muscles tense, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, made worse by the fact that she'd lost any sign of you as a reprieve.

The phone slipped back into her pocket, but the weight of it pressed heavier than ever. The ache in her chest turned sharper, a reminder that even though she needed you, even though you were the one who was supposed to stand beside her, the silence between you spoke volumes. She just wished it wasn't so deafening.

Her eyes drifted to the hallway where Aliyah had disappeared moments before. She couldn't let her sister get pulled deeper into this mess, not when it felt like she was barely holding her own head above water. Yet, with every passing moment, the line between protecting the people she loved and keeping them at a distance grew blurrier. And Percy's summons felt like another shove towards the edge she was already teetering on.

Tomorrow night, she'd play the role. But Jenna swore, as she stared out at the city, that she would find a way out of this tangled mess.

Aliyah popped back into the room, her eyes bright but cautious as she took in Jenna's guarded stance. "Hey, so, the family's heading out to catch a movie right now. Are you coming?" Her tone was light, hopeful even, as if she already anticipated the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.

Jenna's gaze shifted to her sister, the corners of her mouth pulling into a tight line. The unspoken question lingered between them, though Aliyah's expression faltered as she awaited an answer.

"Is Dad going?" Jenna's voice came out sharper than she intended, and Aliyah's smile dimmed slightly.

"Yeah, he is," Aliyah admitted, her eyes darting down for a moment before meeting Jenna's again, trying to read her sister's mood.

Jenna's jaw tensed as she looked past Aliyah, the weight of years of resentment and disappointment pressing down like a vice. "Then no," she said flatly, the finality in her voice leaving no room for argument.

Aliyah's face fell, but she nodded, understanding etched into her features. She didn't push, didn't try to convince Jenna otherwise. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the things they weren't saying.

"Okay," Aliyah said softly, turning to leave. But before she stepped out, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, eyes shadowed with a mix of concern and quiet resignation. "Just... don't stay up all night, okay?"

Jenna forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. I won't."

But as Aliyah's footsteps faded down the hall, Jenna knew she was lying. The night was already hers to wrestle with, haunted by the things she couldn't change and the person she wished she didn't need.

————

Before you knew it, Friday had arrived—the day of the meeting. The meeting you weren't planning to attend. You started your day the same way you had over the past few days—in the garage.

You had been avoiding your phone all morning, afraid of what new messages might appear. Each buzz was a test of your resolve, a reminder that giving in would undo everything you had decided. You needed to stay strong, keep your distance, and not let the past pull you back in.

The project car in front of you demanded all your attention. You poured every ounce of focus into it, the sleek curves of the Aston Martin glistening under the dim garage lights. Tonight, you were determined to take it out for a spin, using it as an excuse to push out the stress gnawing at your mind.

The garage was unusually quiet, lacking its usual bustle. The regulars, including Anton and Mikey, were conspicuously absent, skipping their usual stops at the garage. You welcomed the peace; the last thing you needed was their relentless teasing about the car's dubious origins.

The sound of footsteps broke the monotony, and you didn't need to look up to know it was Hunter.

"Got a minute?" His voice came from the doorway, casual but laced with concern.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a rag before tossing it aside and standing up. "Yeah, what's up?"

"So you're really done with Jenna?" he asks wasting no time.

You couldn't even bring yourself to say the words.

"I'm hoping the drive with Madison the other day doesn't mean yes," he frowns. "I don't think she's right for you."

"Neither do I dude. I never said I wanted anything with Mikey. We literally all went on a friendly drive, nothing more."

"Good, she kind of gives me an off vibe," he shares. "I mean, she's cool and all, but there's just something... I don't know. 

Hunter leans against the workbench, studying you. "But that still leaves Jenna," he says, quieter now. "Are you sure cutting her off is what you really want?"

Your chest tightens, and you look away, focusing on the glint of metal on the project car. "I don't know," you admit. "But staying away feels like the only way to keep things from going up in flames."

Hunter's eyes narrow with concern, but then he smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Just don't forget—sometimes running from the fire only makes it burn hotter when it catches up," he finishes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but a small chuckle escapes despite the tension in your chest. "Trust you to turn everything into a dramatic line."

————

Hunter left around the 6 p.m. mark and time slipped through your fingers, and before you knew it, the clock had struck 8 p.m. The Aston Martin stood before you, polished and ready. It looked solid, steady—exactly what you needed. Without a second thought, you grabbed the keys, took a breath to steady your nerves, and slid into the driver's seat. Tonight, it would be just you, the car, and the open road.

You eased the car through the streets of Brimstone, your hands gripping the wheel, your mind drifting as you weaved through the winding roads. The town looked different at night—darker, quieter, with the occasional flicker of neon signs casting long shadows on the empty streets. You passed by abandoned buildings, alleyways where the stray figures of drug addicts huddled together, their glazed eyes staring into the nothingness that had consumed them. They barely registered your presence, too lost in their own world.

You drove without a clear destination, allowing the car to take you wherever it wanted to go. The sound of tires on asphalt was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The rush of the road beneath you, the flicker of streetlights, the occasional blur of other cars passing by—it was all you needed. Just you and the road.

And then your mind went to her. Of course it did. How could it not when you were sitting in this car. You were fooling yourself by thinking a single car wrap can get the job done.

You remembered the day you took this car, how you spilled your guts to her in the midst of your chaos. The way she'd listened—really listened—and kissed your cheek when you dropped her off. The memory was so vivid, you could almost feel her lips on your skin again.

She should be heading to the meeting now. The one you weren't going to attend. The one she was walking into, blind. No idea what it was really about, no clue what she was getting herself into. Alone.

For all you knew, she thought Ghost Smoke was some sort of cereal. But no. You knew better than that. She wasn't stupid. She was smart, and she could handle herself. You tried to tell yourself that, tried to calm your racing thoughts. She could handle herself. She would be fine. Nothing bad would happen.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept back in. The image of her walking into that meeting—unprepared, vulnerable—made your stomach churn. You couldn't help but picture the worst. What if they used her? What if she got caught up in something deeper than either of you realized?

But then, as you took a sharp turn, you found yourself on the road you hadn't meant to be on. The track.

The place where it all went down.

You didn't intend to end up here. Not tonight. But there it was, the race track standing still under the muted glow of the moon, the outline of the old fence barely visible against the darkness. The stories rushed back like a wave—your father, Anton's dad, both gone in an instant after the crash that took their lives. The race had been their last, the night that changed everything.

You slowed as you approached the entrance, the cars long gone. There was no movement, no sign of life, just the emptiness that had followed the tragedy. The track had been abandoned ever since. The Sinners stopped racing there out of respect, unwilling to return to the place that had claimed so much.

You parked the car on the side of the road. For a long moment, you just sat there, the hum of the engine ticking down as the silence of the night pressed in. The weight of the past, of your father's legacy, of everything you thought you knew about this town and the racing world, settled on your shoulders.

You couldn't help but feel the ghosts of the past watching, waiting, taunting you—what are you going to do Y/n?

You shifted the car into drive, the road ahead a blur.

————

"Can you not be mad at me anymore please?"

Jenna rolls her eyes, frustration evident in her posture. "I told you not to come. I seriously can't believe you followed me here."

Aliyah huffs, crossing her arms. "You're in this mess because of me, and god forbid I want to help! It's not like your girlfriend was dying to come with you, so you should at least be grateful I'm here."

Jenna's stomach clenches at the mention of girlfriend, but she holds her tongue. She's too tired for this. She could've corrected Aliyah for the thousandth time, but it wasn't worth the fight now. Better to focus on getting this over with. At least until this little mission was done, she needed to push all thoughts of you to the back of her mind.

You're not here anyway. You're not helping her anymore.

Aliyah continues, clearly trying to lighten the tension, but there's a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Seriously, there's no way you're not happy I'm here. Look at this place!" She gestures toward the imposing, dark warehouse ahead, a shudder running through her as she takes it in. "It's straight out of a horror movie."

Jenna doesn't disagree. The place does feel like something out of a nightmare. She can feel the resentment bubbling inside her, a sharp, unwanted feeling that she tries to push away but can't. How dare you ghost her, leave her to face this alone? If you were here, Aliyah wouldn't be, and maybe she wouldn't feel so exposed, so vulnerable. But you aren't, and her little sister is. The sting of abandonment hangs in the air, heavier than the looming shadow of the warehouse ahead.

Jenna sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in from all sides. With one final glance at the door to the meeting place, her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, voice tinged with exhaustion. "But stay close, stay quiet. Don't do anything stupid."

Aliyah gave a small, relieved nod. "You've got my word."

Jenna leads the way into the dark warehouse, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete floor. The place is completely abandoned, with broken windows casting faint, eerie light into the room. There's nothing in sight but dust and the lingering smell of stale air.

Aliyah looks around nervously, her eyes darting from corner to corner, but all she can see are the dim shadows creeping along the walls. The place feels like a ghost town, unsettlingly empty.

"Is this really the right place?" Aliyah's voice is low, the uncertainty clear in her tone.

Jenna pauses, squinting into the darkness, trying to make sense of the scene. She's not sure why the meeting is set up like this, or why it feels like they're walking into the unknown, but she can't let herself doubt now. "Yeah," she answers, her voice steady but with a hint of something unspoken. "This is it."

They keep walking, the air growing colder as they venture deeper into the warehouse. Aliyah keeps glancing at her sister, confusion written across her face. "What exactly is this meeting about?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern. "I mean, what's going on here? Is this about the club or—?"

Jenna cuts her off, shaking her head slightly, her gaze focused ahead. "Don't worry about it," she says, her tone sharp and final. "Just stay close."

And then, they saw him.

He was standing in the far corner of the warehouse, facing away from them, his silhouette sharp against the dim light filtering in through the broken windows. Dressed all in black, his figure was imposing in a way that sent a chill down Jenna's spine. He hadn't noticed them yet.

Instinctively, both sisters ducked behind a stack of old, dusty boxes, their breath held as they exchanged a look. The quiet tension between them thickened, and in that moment, everything felt so much more real—so much more dangerous.

On the phone, the man spoke with a low, almost mechanical tone. "Yes, boss. I'm the first one here, waiting on the other two."

Jenna made a mental note on the words. So this was a meeting between three people. Percy would be one of them.

Aliyah's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you know who that is?"

Jenna didn't answer at first. Her eyes stayed fixed on the man, analyzing his every movement, trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, she shook her head. No, she didn't know him. But something about this felt wrong—like they were in deeper than they had anticipated.

She reached out, squeezing Aliyah's hand tightly to calm her nerves. "Stay quiet," she murmured. There was no turning back now.

Jenna's heart skipped a beat when the door creaked open, and two figures stepped into the dim light. Percy walked in first, his usual calm confidence unmistakable, but it was the figure beside him that made Jenna's breath catch in her throat.

She remembered seeing him at the Raven race. The night you were racing. What the hell was he doing here? Her mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down harder than before. Why was he with Percy?  Was he the club leader? This meeting was about something far worse than she could have imagined.

Aliyah's grip on her hand tightened, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. But Jenna couldn't look away. She barely registered the tension in her sister's hand, too focused on the strange alliance before her.

Without a word, Percy and the Raven exchanged brief glances before walking further into the warehouse with the mysterious person in all black. The air around them seemed to thicken, the sound of their voices indistinguishable.

Jenna's pulse quickened as her instincts screamed that she needed to get closer, to hear more.

She crouched low, glancing over at Aliyah with an intense, silent plea. "Stay here," she whispered sharply, her voice low but firm, knowing the weight of the situation.

Aliyah nodded, her face pale with fear.

Jenna barely gave her sister another glance before she began moving, silent as a shadow, staying low to the ground as she crept closer to the three men. 

But the floor of the warehouse wasn't as kind as she hoped. Her foot caught on a jagged edge, and in an instant, her body lurched forward, her heart skipping a beat.

Time slowed, the rush of panic surged through her, and in that split second, her heart seized with terror. She was going to fall—she was going to make a noise and blow their cover. Aliyah was going to be in danger.

She braced for the inevitable crash, for the sound of her body hitting the ground and the betrayal of her hiding place.

But just as the world tilted beneath her, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, disoriented, but when she looked up, her world seemed to freeze.

There you were, standing in front of her, holding her steady. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. You were here. You had come for her.

In the six days you had ghosted her, Jenna had planned what she was going to do if she ever saw you again. First was a slap, possibly the silent treatment—a taste of your own medicine. She even toyed with the idea of keying one of your cars. But falling into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and letting out a sigh of relief was certainly not part of the plan.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel her breath against your chest, soft and steady, and despite everything, her warmth was exactly what you needed.

Jenna pulled back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as she looked up at you, her eyes searching for something—answers, maybe, or just reassurance. She was still upset with your disappearing act. "You really are something," she muttered, her voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable.

You couldn't find the right words, not when your heart was racing from the sudden rush of emotions. Instead, you simply nodded, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a quiet acknowledgment of everything unspoken between you. "We'll talk afterwards," you whispered.

She nodded, knowing you both have a bigger issue to deal with at the present moment.  You notice Jenna worriedly glance behind you and you follow her gaze to see another girl you've never seen before.

Jenna noticed the fear that was once on her sister's face melted into a mischievous grin as she looked at her, raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at you while mouthing, Greaser?

You'll have to figure out who that is later, but for now you take your attention away from the girl who is very close to you, and look up at the scene in front of you. Pissy, the Raven crew leader, and an unfamiliar man.

“Who thought holding the meeting here was a good idea?” Percy muttered, annoyance dripping from his tone as he glanced at the dust clinging to his shoes.

“We can’t afford any slip-ups,” the unknown man replied curtly. “Let’s keep this brief.”

The Raven crew leader smirked, eyes glinting in the dim warehouse light. “We’ve already pushed about fifty keys of Ghost Smoke into Brimstone over the past two weeks,” he said, voice smooth but full of intent. “No hiccups, no heat—just a steady stream. And trust me, the streets are starting to bite. By the time the next batch hits, they’ll be begging for more.”

"Okay, and you Percy? How's the Vipers' distribution going?"

You clenched your jaw as the conversation confirmed your worst suspicions. These guys were flooding Brimstone with product, exploiting the town's vulnerable, turning the Brimstoners into their playthings. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jenna stealthily recording the exchange between the three men, every tense word.

Percy shifted uneasily, a flash of frustration in his eyes. "We've moved about eight keys so far," he said tightly, the disappointment in his voice evident. The number wasn't enough compared to the Raven's progress. "It’s not easy for a Viper to operate on Sinner territory without drawing attention."

"Maybe if you'd stop cozying up to your girl at races and focus on your job, things would be different," the unknown man snapped, his tone biting.

His girl?

"Relax," Percy retorted, his voice strained but defiant. "No one wants Brimstone to become a zombieland more than I do. Some of those Sinners have been getting way too fucking cocky."

Jacob, the Raven leader, let out a low chuckle and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Easy there," he said, smirking at the unknown man. "I can’t blame the guy. It’s hard to stay focused when your girl’s a knockout like that." He finishes with a whistle.

A whispered "ew" sounded behind you, and you felt Jenna tense, a silent fury radiating from her. Anger roared in your chest. Not only were these men scheming to drown Brimstone in Ghost Smoke, but now they were talking about Jenna like she was just another trophy. The rage that simmered inside you sharpened into a razor's edge.

But now was not the time to get angry. You had to remain calm, get all the info you can and get the fuck out of there.

Jacob, the Raven leader, crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he looked between Percy and the unknown man. “And what if this operation doesn’t go as planned? What happens if someone decides to interfere? I know you tried this once and failed.”

The tension in the room crackled like static. The unknown man’s expression darkened, a slow, menacing smile creeping across his face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, voice low and chilling. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of Bullet and Apex.”

You freeze.

But before you could fully process the implication, a sudden noise shattered the silence about 15 meters to your left.

“Hey! Who’s there?” one of the men barked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Heart thundering, you whipped your head in the direction of the sound and spotted the familiar mop of curls.

Hunter.

He was crouched low, eyes wide with a reckless determination that sent a jolt of both dread and relief through you. Before you could even react, Jenna’s urgent voice sliced through the fog of panic clouding your mind.

“We have to go,” she hissed, fingers locking around your arm like a lifeline and yanking you into motion. The edge in her voice snapped you back to the present, and your body jolted into action. The girl—clearly someone Jenna trusted—was already sprinting ahead, weaving between crates like shadows. You cast a quick look back, your gaze catching Hunter’s for a split second as he, too, bolted to follow.

This was a fight against time, and survival was the only thing that mattered.

Jenna’s grip on your hand anchored you as you both tore out of the warehouse, feet pounding the ground as adrenaline roared through your veins. The cold air bit at your skin as you charged towards the first car in sight—yours.

“Stop right there!” A shout from behind sent a surge of terror down your spine.

“Hey!” you yelled to the girl ahead. She glanced back, eyes sharp, just in time to catch the keys you tossed her. She was closer to the car, and with no time to spare, she slipped into the driver’s seat.

The three of you scrambled in—a blur of limbs and frenzied breaths. Jenna flung herself into the passenger seat, while you and Hunter dove into the back, your heart hammering in your chest like it might explode.

“Go, go, go! Step on it, Aliyah,” Jenna commanded.

Aliyah didn’t hesitate. The engine roared to life, and the Aston Martin peeled away from the warehouse, tires screeching against the asphalt. The last thing you saw in the rearview was the shadowy figure of the man pursuing you, growing smaller as you sped into the dark night, leaving danger and revelations in your wake.

No one dared to speak. The air in the car was thick with tension, the adrenaline still simmering just beneath the surface. Once Aliyah had put enough distance between them and the warehouse, she eased off the gas, slowing to a steady, legal pace. They were in Summer Valley now, the bright lights of the town casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

Ten minutes ticked by in silence before the red glow of a traffic light gave them a momentary pause. It was then that everything unraveled at once.

“Hunter, what the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, voice tight.

“How the fuck did you go from boosting cars to this?” Hunter fired back, eyes wide with disbelief.

Aliyah leaned back, throwing a teasing look Jenna’s way. “You didn’t tell me Greaser was cute!”

"Since when did you know how to drive?” Jenna shot back at Aliyah.

The car was filled with a low hum of murmured conversations, each person settling into their own thoughts as the road stretched on.

“Did you follow me here?” you asked Hunter, still in disbelief.

“Yeah, I did. And I’m glad I did.” His voice was filled with concern. “What the hell are you mixed up in, Y/n?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just finding out about all this today, too.”

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh. “We need to tell Anton. They’re trying to destroy Brimstone.”

You exhaled, mirroring his sigh. “Yeah, this is bad. Real bad.”

As soon as Anton’s name left his lips, your mind raced back to the meeting. What the men had said.

Hunter could see it in your eyes—he knew exactly what you were thinking, and the tension in the air between you both grew thicker.

Up front, Jenna’s voice broke the silence. “Okay, yes, I get it! She’s cute. Can you just… shush? She’s right there,” she muttered in exasperation, turning back to her sister, who was practically grinning.

Jenna slouched back in her seat, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This was not what she expected when she set out to gather dirt on Percy. She couldn’t wrap her head around it—Percy, the same person she thought she knew, was tangled up in a plot to destroy Brimstone. Yeah, he was a jerk, but this... this was murder, drawn out and deliberate.

The crew she had once considered family was directly linked to the distribution of Ghost Smoke, targeting people from the town over.  She knew there was always a rivalry between Brimstone and Summer Valley, but she didn't think it would resort to elimination techniques. The shock of it all left her breathless, the pieces clicking together with an unsettling finality. 

She got her dirt. But this feels far from over.

Despite everything, Jenna couldn’t ignore the pull to check on you. She knew you had to be feeling the weight of it all—learning that your town was the target of such destruction. But there was also the anger. The unresolved frustration from you walking away earlier. She couldn’t just let you back in without confronting it, could she?

But as the drive wore on, the pull to turn back softened, and she glanced at you instead. You were lost in your own world, staring out the window, looking like you’d retreated into yourself. Nothing could touch you right now. And she didn’t blame you. Tonight had been a mess.

She turned her gaze to Hunter, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if he knew how to handle this. He met her eyes, shaking his head in that subtle way that said, Not tonight.

Jenna nodded in acknowledgment, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She gave a quiet command to Aliyah, who turned the car toward their place. The drive was silent, the weight of everything hanging thick in the air. When the car finally stopped, both girls exited, but Jenna couldn’t help but glance back at you one last time. Her gaze softened, seeing how much this was affecting you. You didn’t look at her once as you stayed seated in the back, your face unreadable.

Somehow, without even realizing it, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Hunter’s car. The shift had happened so subtly that you hadn’t even registered the transition. You assumed once the girls had left, Hunter must've taken over the drive. But the ride felt endless, every minute dragging in uncomfortable silence, like you were trying to outrun the truth without really knowing how.

When Hunter finally pulled into his driveway, the car came to a stop, and the air between you two felt suffocating. No words were spoken for a long moment.

Finally, Hunter broke the stillness. His voice was low, sincere, and filled with an understanding that made your stomach churn. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, his tone full of empathy. “That must’ve been a hell of a lot to take in.”

It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. You could feel the weight of the words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.

Bullet and Apex. Your dad and Anton’s dad, their racing names. You had tried to convince yourself that you had misheard at the meeting, that it was some twisted misunderstanding. But as you turned to look at Hunter, his pitiful eyes told you everything you needed to know. You weren’t wrong.

Your father and uncle’s deaths wasn't an accident. They’d been taken from you on purpose. And now, the truth of that hit you harder than anything else.

[breannasfluff]

“Hello?” Jazz’s greeting is hurried, but Danny lets his eyes fall closed. His core thrums at the sound of her voice. “Who is this?”

“Hey, Prof.”

“Da–uh–uh–you!” Smooth, Jazz. Really smooth. “Don’t call me that.” There’s no bite in the admonishment. “Can you…talk?”

Are you safe? “I’m at a payphone, but no one is around.” Nothing too incriminating over the phone, please.

“How are you doing?”

It’s good to hear her voice. “I’m pretty good. Working, making friends. Looking into…things.”

Jazz growls on the other end of the line, code for I want to bother you about that but I can’t. Danny is fluent in Jazz-speak. 

“Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on. Nothing to worry about. My friends are watching out for me.” It might be stretching Pam’s involvement slightly, but Jazz doesn’t need to worry about things she can’t fix. “I wanted to–talk.” 

I miss you. He’s too nervous to say it over the phone, just in case. What if the phone call is tracked? What if the GIW are moving toward him already? He didn’t have as much time to fly as he did last time he called, but he’s still in a different direction from Gotham. Even if they head this way, they still won’t find him.

“I’m glad you called,” Jazz says, voice going soft. I miss you, too. “Things are okay here. Summer is going to be over soon. Do you know what you’re going to do then?”

“Not yet. I’ll probably give it a few more weeks, see how work is going.” If the GIW finally back down, Danny will be fine to go home. Just as long as the arrival of one Danny Fenton doesn’t coincide with ghost attacks again. Sure, his enemies don’t attack nearly as often now, or are in the tenuous frenemies category, but Fenton luck is terrible. 

The conversation continues; inane things like what Jazz has been doing for the summer and small, heavily edited stories from Danny. I got a plant, I made new friends, I’ve taken up biking. A nugget of truth in each of them, but not the whole story. The secrecy chafes at him. 

Danny might be nearly 17, but he’s still a teenager. He shouldn’t have to be juggling secret identities, covert phone calls, and government organizations. He certainly shouldn’t be trying to subtly take down villains of a town he doesn’t even belong to. 

Read the rest here

[buck-star]

Marshmallow lover | B.B & S.R

>> Bucky comes home from a mission, flashbacks are brought back. But luckily you know what Bucky needs to clam down. Not only you and Steve but also hot chocolate. <<

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 2.852 Words

Warnings: poly-relationship, m/m/f, established relationship, anxiety/panic, mention of punching), nicknames (babydoll, princess, majesty), fluff

Authors Note: Dedicated to @mercurial-chuckles. Cause you asked for Stucky, hehe. I had another idea but I just haven’t had enough motivation or ideas to write it. So I hope you like that one anyway.

Events: Stucky Bingo [SB6010 | B3 | Writing Format: second person + November Prompt: Home | @stuckybingo] Steve Rogers Bingo [SB4054 | C3 | Free Space | @steverogersbingo]

Masterlist | Stucky x Reader Masterlist

It was one of these early winter days, where the weather wasn't too cold but you could already feel the breeze the winter was bringing with itself. The air was cool; your hands would have been ice blocks already, but luckily your boyfriend was holding one of them, and the other has been stuck in your pocket since the two of you left the house.

Actually, the two of you thought about staying home until Bucky came home — from the mission — in the evening. But when Bucky told you that he wouldn't be home before the late evening, Steve decided to force you in a loving way to go shopping with him. He knew you loved decoration, so it was the best opportunity to make you leave the house and have some fun with him. Otherwise, you would have sat in the hallway, watching the front door until Bucky walked inside.

It happened once, and both of your men made sure that they would distract you if the other one was on a mission and came home late. Of course, they understood why you acted like that; it was weird to have one of you not in bed at night or missing at the table during meals. Even watching television was different if one of them was on a mission — which didn't happen often anymore.

But after the last time you refused to leave the spot in the hallway unless you had to use the bathroom, Steve took you shopping this time. And luckily, he managed to get your mind off of the fact that Bucky could be injured when he came home. Even though you seemed distracted, Steve felt a little restless; he knew you felt the same, but he just hoped the decoration was distracting enough for you. Little did he know that you hoped the same for him, because deep down, you wanted to return home to make sure that Bucky was fine once he came home. But you tried to calm yourself; Bucky could call you once he was home, and he could take care of himself for a bit too. Plus, he sometimes even enjoyed having a moment just for himself after some missions.

When you had some items you wanted and were happy with, you and Steve made your way back home. It was just a short walk, but the later it got, the colder it was. You were shivering, and Steve's strong arm around your waist and his muscular body pressed against your side didn't help much to warm you up. “You know, my tooth...” you chuckled softly, moving them inside your shoes even though you didn't really feel them because of the cold anymore. “They are pretty cold. Guess they would fall off if I bumped them.”

“Then we get you home pretty fast. Don't want your toes to fall off. Bucky wouldn't like that either," Steve joked, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your hair. The two of you didn't talk much; there was no need. It was just the closeness to one another, the happiness and love that you felt whenever you were close to your boyfriends. So you just walked quietly along the streets with him, the sky slowly darkening, and you were glad you were almost home already.

After a few more minutes of walking, you finally walked into the warm house. It was almost a burning feeling on your skin, and you hissed softly. Steve had to shove you into the house, or else you would probably have walked backwards and out of the warmth back into the cold. He chuckled behind you, his calloused hands holding you by your waist before pushing you further into the hallway so he was able to close the door behind you.

“It's warm, isn't it? Maybe it’s because you're surrounded by such hot men.” Steve laughed softly, taking your jacket, before he took off his own jacket and shoes. You narrowed your eyes when you walked further into your house, looking around to find Bucky. You were sure he was home; his shoes were in the hallway where they belonged. But instead of your boyfriend coming immediately to greet the two of you, he was nowhere to be seen. Steve's voice interrupted your thoughts before you could even start to worry. “Maybe he's in the bedroom; he loves showers after a mission. While you look for him, I'm gonna make some hot chocolate for us.”

You nodded, pecking Steve's lips softly, before you turned away to walk to your shared bedroom. You didn't hear any noises, neither the shower nor Bucky looking through the wardrobe to find something comfortable to wear. You tried as best as you could to not worry about him. Bucky was sometimes pretty quiet, especially after missions. It was almost like he had to get used to home again to know he wasn't on a mission any longer.

The door of your bedroom was almost closed, but you saw a little part of the bed, the small bedside table, and a hint of something else — feet. Or it was more the toes that were curled, like they were the only part that was holding him grounded. You pushed the door open, looking to the side where Bucky was sitting. Your eyes widened as you saw him curled up into himself. His knees were pressed against his chest, his hands properly bruising his skin already, while his eyes were unfocused. Bucky was just staring into the air with a fearful expression on his handsome face.

You slowly walked closer to him, unsure what to do. Sweat was running down his forehead; even his hair was sweaty, and his clothes were stuck to him like a second skin — soaked in sweat. You're not sure how long he was sitting there like that; his teeth gritted, his jaw clenched, and you noticed his other muscles being more visible than usual through his clothes. Bucky was tense like he was still in a fight, and in a certain way he was — but instead of fighting against some people like Hydra, he was fighting his own battle with himself, with his fear in his mind.

“Bucky?” You asked softly, your voice just above a whisper when you kneeled down in front of him. There was still some distance, so he wasn't able to reach you if he would punch or kick. You have seen Steve in such situations with Bucky before; he had to take the one or another punch already — which caused Bucky to feel even more guilty after. But Steve always assured him that it's not as bad as it looks and that it would never change anything about the way he feels for Bucky or sees his boyfriend. And even though he never hurt you, Bucky was always sorry that you had to see him struggling so much with his nightmares and flashbacks from the past — you never judged him; you only loved him more when he couldn't love himself.

Bucky didn't react when you called him by his name. His fingers only tightened around his legs. You wanted to reach out, but you know you shouldn't. Bucky once had his hand around Steve's throat the moment his fingertips brushed along his lover's leg. And you knew Steve was stronger than you; he had struggled to get the other super soldier off of him, so you were pretty sure Bucky would crash you before you could even call for Steve. And both told you to never call Steve for help; they trust and love you, but they were too worried about you — and Bucky would never be okay with himself again if he would hurt you. And you understood it.

After another time calling him by his name but getting no answer, you sigh softly. Tears slowly formed in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, and everything inside of you screamed to wipe them away, to pull him into you, but you were too afraid to scare him even more. So, you decided to make the only thing that came as an alternative solution to your mind — Steve.

From the time you walked into the bedroom to the moment you got up to walk to the door and shout for Steve, only a few minutes passed. But for you, it felt like at least twenty minutes, not being able to help Bucky and not wanting to leave his side while you tried to come up with something that could help without Steve's help.

You opened the door of your shared bedroom a bit more, looking out into the hallway. “Steve!” You shouted, earning immediately a soft ‘Yes.’ from him. He was still making the hot chocolate, but he was worried the moment you shouted his name instead of coming into the kitchen with Bucky. “I—I need you here. Or Bucky needs you... WE NEED YOU.”

Steve would have chuckled about your wording, but he knew that this wasn’t a situation to laugh about. He immediately turned off everything that could burn. His footsteps were loud and heavy when he walked to your shared bedroom. He noticed you looking out of the door, narrowing his eyes when he didn't see Bucky close to you. The big grump was actually holding you close, hugging, carrying, or kissing you the whole time. But right now, it was only you who waited for him to come to the bedroom.

"Where's Buck? Are you okay? Did he… What's wrong?” Steve asked, not even letting you a moment to answer. You brought your hand to his cheek, stroking it softly before giving him a slight, soft smile. He knew you didn't feel like you tried to show, but he knew you did it to calm the two of you down. It wouldn't help any of you to freak out or be more worried. After a moment, you take your hand away, taking a step to the side, and letting Steve walk into the room.

“He doesn't react when I talk to him. I-I don't know what I can do, but you... You trailed off, watching Steve's eyes widen as he saw your boyfriend looking like a lost puppy. You watched him walk over to Bucky, pulling you with him before Steve pushed you to sit down on the bed, and he kneeled down in front of Bucky. Steve was way closer than you were earlier, and you pulled your knees up, hugging them while you watched your boyfriends intensely. “You know what to do, right?”

Steve nodded, smiling softly. He turned his head back to Bucky, placing his hand on the brown-haired man's knees. Bucky hissed; his metal hand shot up to place a punch into Steve's pretty face, but he caught Bucky's hand. Steve held Bucky's hand tightly, trying to force his hand back down, and after a moment it even worked. You watched them with slightly parted lips; when did Steve find out how to catch Bucky's hand — especially his metal hand?

“Buck, it's me. It's Steve. You're home; do you hear me?” Steve asked, his voice soft. He ran his thick fingers slowly up and down the side of Bucky's thigh. He leaned a bit closer; his other hand was still holding Bucky's metal hand, and you wonder if Bucky was trying to punch him with his other hand but he didn't. “You're home, with me and our princess. You know, your babydoll.”

Bucky gasped softly, his eyes wider than before. His hands made grabbing motions, and Steve smiled softly, feeling Bucky being less tense than he was just a moment ago. Steve let go of his boyfriend's metal hand, using his hand to wipe away some sweat from Bucky's forehead.

“Hi, Buck,” he chuckled. Bucky slowly calmed down, noticing his surroundings. Bucky was slowly letting go of his legs, stretching them slowly between Steve's legs while his head fell forward against Steve's shoulder. “You're home; we are home. We got ya. Scared our princess a bit.”

“My babydoll?” Bucky's voice was hoarse and quiet, but Steve understood him anyway. He slowly nodded, caressing Bucky wet strands. Steve then turned his head to you, nodding at Bucky and mouthing that he just asked for you before he even asked anything else. “My babydoll, my Stevie.”

“We’re here, Buck. Do you want her to come closer as well, or do you need a moment?” Steve asked softly. He knew — you both knew — that Bucky was still pretty shaken up and that he could use some time to calm down or that he needed to feel the two of you, to smell the two of you, and to see the two of you to calm down completely.

Since the brown-haired man didn't really trust his voice, he only lifted his hand, making a grabby hand into the direction of the bed where you were still sitting. His other hand was interlaced with Steves, holding him close to Bucky. You slowly moved down from the bed; your knees were cracking softly when you stretched them out, and Steve laughed softly.

“Thought we were old, but you're cracking just like we do,” he told you, smirking before he moved a bit to the side to make space for you in front of Bucky. You rolled your eyes, moving closer to Bucky, but before you could have even said anything or moved another inch, he pulled you into his lap. You were straddling his thick thighs, your chest pressed against his.

Bucky hid his face in the crock of your neck, pulling Steve against his side so the two of you — the two people he loved the most, who meant everything to him — were as close as possible to him. After a moment of comfortable silence, he lifted his head. He was still sweaty, but his ocean blue eyes were brightened, and the sparkle you and Steve loved so much were visible again. A soft smile was tugging at Bucky's lips, causing you to smile as well. He leaned closer, pecking your lips before he did the same with Steve, sighing softly.

“Hi,” he chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder once again. “Missed you two. Do I smell hot chocolate?”

Both you and Steve laughed softly. When it came to hot chocolate, especially with marshmallows, you had to be faster than Bucky, or else he — accidentally — drank everything before you even reached the kitchen.

“Mhm, it’s probably cold again, but I can warm it up while you get a shower, sweaty,” Steve teased, using the nickname on purpose instead of ‘sweety’. Bucky rolled his eyes, growling softly, but he then nodded. Steve wasn't wrong; he felt like he had already taken a shower, but this time with his own sweat. “We got some marshmallows, and our princess got a lot of decorations.”

You nodded; your eyes lit up as you opened your mouth to start and explain what you got and why you got it. Bucky chuckled, loving your excitement. But he wanted you to show him and explain it while the three of you would be sitting wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with hot chocolate and marshmallows. So he pressed his lips onto yours before you could even start to tell him more about it.

“But I'm taking my babydoll to take a shower with me,” Bucky grumbled, and there he was again. Your Bucky, the love of your and Steve’s lives who never let go of you, who needed to be close to you, needed to kiss you and just show you all the love and affection. Of course, he did the same with Steve too, but he had another task, so it was you who was going to join him in the shower. “Plus, need her to wash my hair. Feels so much better when she massages the shampoo into my hair with her soft hands.”

“Of course you do,” Steve chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Bucky and then your forehead before he got up to get the chocolate ready. Bucky opened his mouth, but Steve turned around, smirking at him. “Yeah, with as many marshmallows as you wish, my majesty.”

“Good boy.” Bucky grinned at Steve, who suddenly blushed and turned away. “Mission completed, making Stevie blush. Now, my next mission is to get you into the shower with me. Mhm, missed you. I love you so much, babydoll. And you too, Steve, I know you're standing in the hallway.”

“I love you too,” you say in unison with Steve, who then made his way down the hallway back to the kitchen. Bucky got up, keeping you in his arms before he walked with you to the bathroom, getting the two of you into the shower. It wasn't just cleaning him; it was a lot more Bucky being possessive and touch-starved, and you were his solution — you were gladly his way to get touches and be happy when it meant kisses, hugs, soft touches, and all the compliments you loved so much to hear from your boyfriends.

Comment and Reblog to support your content creators.

I do not allow my work to be copied, translated or published elsewhere.

Taglist: @pono-pura-vida @sergeantbarnessdoll @rogersbarber @kimmie113080 @sebastianstanisahotmf

[jsxjmn]

That’s mine

Synopsis: The wrong cat was brought home by Sophia after she took her cat to a pet parlor without knowing that it belongs to her senior.

Pairing: Katseye Sophia x Itzy 6th member reader

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“UNIEEEEEEE!!!” Y/N screamed from her and Ryujin’s shared bedroom

“What? what happened? are you okay?” The leader entered the room panicking

“Unnie, this is not Rarity! this is not my cat!” The younger said panicking “Huh? what do you mean? it is, white fur and blue ey- oh no! this is not her” Yeji said

“I know! unnie, where’s my baby?” Y/N started crying “Hey! don’t cry, it’s okay! we’ll find her okay?” the leader said hugging the younger

“What’s going on here?” Ryujin entered the wrong confused. Yeji pointed at the cat “What? is she sick?” Ryujin said checking the cat “Wait a minute, it’s not Rarity!” Ryujin said making the younger cry louder

“Thanks, Ryujin” Yeji said staring at Ryujin “hehe”

“Sophia?” Yoonchae calls her leader

“In the kitchen!” Sophia shouted

Yoonchae walks towards the kitchen when she found Sophia baking a cookie with Dani “Hey! what’s up?” Sophia asked while mixing her cookie dough

“I think something is wrong with Yoonchae” She said “Huh? are you okay?” Dani asked concerned “no! not me, Sophia’s cat” Yoonchae clarified before walking back to their room

“What do you mean? she’s okay, i just brought her home from the parlor” Sophia said removing her apron “Mix this for me Dani, don’t eat it” Sophia said before walking towards their shared bedroom

“Look, she’s not energetic as before” Yoonchae said pointing at the cat who seems lost, Sophia looked at the cat “OH MY FUCKING GOSH!!” Sophia screamed

“What happened?” Dani went inside the room followed by the other gilrs “This is not my cat, I grab the wrong cat”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Hey, excuse me. I think I got the wrong cat," Sophia explained to the parlor workers. “What do you mean, Ma'am You brought the white cat home," the staff remarked, looking into the records.

“Yes, i did. but it’s not mine, look!” Sophia said showing the cat

“That’s mine!” Someone said, making Sophia look behind her, seeing a girl with a mask who is holding her Yoonchae.

“Oh wow, you guys swapped your cats” The staff said

“Is this your cat? Can you please take her? she’s quite aggressive” The girl asked “Oh yes, i’m sorry about that. I believe this princess is yours?” Sophia said giving the cat to the girl

“Oh, my Rarity! Mommy misses you” The girl said while removing her mask

“Oh my gosh! Itzy Y/N Sunbaenim” Sophia said making Y/N look at her “Yes, and uhm?" Y/N asked confused, she knew she already saw the girl but can't figure out where.

“Sophia, From Katseye.” Sophia said “oh yes! i remember now, Congrats on your debut! i really love your songs” Y/N said making Sophia blush

“Thank you, uhm im a big fan of yours” Sophia said “Thank you, do you perhaps want to grab a coffee with me?”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Oh i see” Y/N said while laughing “as you can see my cat is really a princess here” Y/N said while giggling “Figured, she looks like a cat who enjoys ribbons” Sophia remarks

“Yes! she does, she actually has one before i took her to the parlor” Y/N said showing Sophia the picture “Wow! she’s so pretty! my cat would never” Sophia said while looking at Y/N’s phone

Y/N was about to show another picture to Sophia when her leader message her [It’s already 8 pm, young lady. make sure that i’ll see you here at 8:30 or you’re dead]

“Oh my gosh! it’s already 8?” Y/N asked confused “Huh? it’s only 8- oh yeah it’s already 8” Sophia said

Looking at Sophia, Y/N said "It doesn't feel like it. We've been here for three hours already. Anyway, I have to go now." Y/N stated, "Yeji unnie already messaged me."

“Oh of course!” Sophia said “It was nice meeting you, Sophia. maybe we can do this again next time” Y/N said

“Are you asking me on a date?” Sophia asked jokily

“Maybe I am” Y/N responded, handing Sophia a piece of paper. “Message me” she continued, leaving Sophia blushing heavily.

[schlattslambo]

hot for teacher | schlatt 18+

A/n: this has truly been burning my brain. reader is female presenting. I will work on some more gender neutral stuff in the future I promise!! Please enjoy<3

C/w: spanking, name calling (slut), power dynamic (teacher x student), spitting, use of daddy towards the end

——————————

Why you decided to go back to college to get another degree, you have no idea. All you know is that this class is boring as hell and you aren’t sure why it’s even needed for your degree. The only upside was the fact that it was your first class of the day so you could get it over with. Plus the professor was kind of hot too.

It’s a warm day today, way warmer than it should be for this time of year, so you decide to show a little skin to your writing class. Your skirt is just long enough to cover your ass, and your shirt is low cut and cropped. Honestly, it’s like you’re not even wearing a shirt at all.

You walk into the classroom, plopping down in the back like you usually do.

“Ms (y/n),” Your professor says from the front of the room. “Come and see me please.”

You roll your eyes. Mr Schlatt might be hot, but he was strict. He didn’t allow gum chewing, eating or drinking - except water, of course- and locked his classroom 5 minutes after it was meant to start so nobody who was late could get in. He constantly got under your skin about your writing and your formatting, and was seeming to start early with his criticisms of you today.

“Yes, Mr Schlatt?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“Did you leave the rest of your clothes at home?” Mr Schlatt asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, stupid, this is it.” You scoff.

Mr Schlatt could take a lot, but seeing you like that, acting all defiant and shit pissed him off. He wanted to knock you down a peg or two. His jaw works as he glares at you.

“What do you want?” You ask.

“I wanted to see you because your last essay was all over the place.” Mr Schlatt says. “It had a good foundation, but it could use some work.”

“Did I fail the assignment, or what?” You snap. “I worked hard on that essay!”

“You would receive a 50, which is failing,” Mr Schlatt pauses. “This essay is a large part of your grade, and your grade is already low enough as it is.”

“What??” You yelp. “How could I fail?! This is ridiculous!”

“I want you to redo the essay.” Mr Schlatt adds, reaching into his desk and pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. “This is an essay template. I’d like for you to come in during any free time that you have and work on it with me.”

You glare at him. “I’m not redoing that fucking essay.” You growl.

Mr Schlatt’s eyes darken in a way that you’ve never seen before. He takes off his glasses and places them down gently before his eyes go back to you. Your eyes widen slightly at how scary he looks.

“First off, you do not speak to me like that.” Mr Schlatt says. “Second, you will be redoing this essay. It is not a full rewrite, it is just a large edit. If you do not do this, you will receive a zero for it. And that zero would make you fail the class and you will not graduate. Am I clear?”

Your eyes widen. Surely he’s joking. This is college for fucks sake! He can’t have this power over you. Especially over some essay.

“You can’t do that!” You yell.

“I can and I will,” Mr Schlatt says. “Now, from what I’ve learned over the course of the semester is that you typically have some free time around 1pm. I’d like you to come back here at 1 so we can go over this work.”

With that, Mr Schlatt dismisses you. You stomp over to your seat and plop down, taking out your phone. You barely work in the class out of defiance, but catch Mr Schlatt glancing at you. You glare at him and he just shakes his head, leaning over to help another student.

Two classes later, you figure it’s best to just go back to Mr Schlatt’s classroom. You need to graduate. You hate college and want to get out as fast as possible. You barge into the room, making Mr Schlatt look up at you. He heaves a sigh.

You have to be Mr Schlatt’s least favorite student, but he cannot stop thinking about how you need to be put in your place. You are a student, and he is a professor. He deserves respect, and you’re going to give him that respect one way or another.

“Glad to see that you came back,” Mr Schlatt says.

It’s the end of his day and his tie is loosened, his sleeves are rolled up, and his hair is messy. You sit in the seat across from his desk and look at him while he finishes scribbling something down. Turning the paper over, he looks at you.

“Let’s get this over with.” You sigh.

The first few minutes of the edit are simple enough. You sigh and try and add in the notes that Mr Schlatt left for you.

“This is stupid,” You grumble. “Why can’t you just pass me?”

“I want you out of my class just as much as you want to get out of it,” Mr Schlatt says. “But I can’t just pass you because you want to leave. You have to earn that right.”

You sit quietly for a moment, then a smirk breaks out on your face.

“Is there any other way that you could pass me?” You ask, twirling some hair around your finger.

Mr Schlatt’s eyes narrow. “No,” He grits. “Now finish writing.”

Thankfully for him, you don’t notice Mr Schlatt’s pants becoming tighter at the crotch. You’re pushing his limits and if you don’t stop soon, you’re going to be pushed into his office’s supply closet and taught a lesson.

“You’re too hot to be this rude,” You grumble.

“You’re too old to be this defiant.” Mr Schlatt snaps back. “You have two seconds to continue this last paragraph or I’m kicking you out and you can fail the class.”

You look up at him and smirk. “Make me.”

The band holding Mr Schlatt back snaps and he stands up, slamming his palms on the wooden desk.

“Get into my office,” He growls. “Now.”

You jump at the loud noise as your eyes widen. You stare up at Mr Schlatt dumbfounded.

“Did I stutter?” He asks. “Get up and get into my office.”

You stand up so quickly that the chair that you were sitting in nearly falls over. Mr Schlatt leads you into his office and closes the door, locking it. You’re speechless, but the slowly growing puddle in your panties speaks volumes.

With two long strides, Mr Schlatt is inches from your face. He’s so close that you can smell the whiskey that he puts in his coffee to deal with students like you. Your knees nearly give out but you lean against the wall.

“You’ve been pushing me and pushing me (y/n).” Mr Schlatt breathes. “I’m so close to losing control.”

You smile softly. “Then lose control.” You reply.

“You sure about that, dollface?” Mr Schlatt smirks. “I don’t think you’ll be able to handle it.”

“Try me.” You reply.

In a swift motion, you’re grabbed and bent over the wooden desk in Mr Schlatt’s office. He kicks your ankles apart and presses his crotch against your ass, yanking your hair back. You gasp and bite your lip.

“Now, (y/n),” Mr Schlatt breathes. “This is your last chance to back out.”

“No way.” You sigh.

“Stubborn little slut,” Mr Schlatt grumbles, landing a harsh smack on your ass. “Now be fuckin’ quiet. Can’t have anyone hearing what a slut you are.”

Before you can respond, Mr Schlatt’s thick fingers find their way between your legs and to your swollen clit. Your knees finally give out, but thankfully you’re lying on the desk.

“Oh fuck,” you whine.

“You’re already so wet,” Mr Schlatt smirks. “Is this from being a defiant brat?”

You can’t help but nod as he presses against the nub, pleasure shooting through you. You yelp as your shorts and panties are ripped down, exposing your ass.

“I think you need an attitude adjustment, don’t you?” Mr Schlatt leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

You watch as he grabs a ruler off of the desk and you squirm against him.

“No!” You manage. “I don’t need an attitude adjustment!”

Mr Schlatt ignores you and pins your hands behind your back. Your eyes screw shut and you whimper softly. The defiance is gone and your clit throbs as you wait for the ruler to smack your ass.

“Count ‘em for me, slut.” Mr Schlatt says before the ruler comes down on your ass with a harsh slap.

“Fuck!” You yelp. “One.”

Smack.

Smack.

SMACK.

The ruler snaps as tears begin to fall. Mr Schlatt tosses the other piece of the ruler to the side before rubbing a soothing hand on your ass.

“Now, have you learned your lesson?” Mr Schlatt asks, releasing your wrists.

“Mhm.” You sniffle.

“Atta girl.” Mr Schlatt praises. “Now since you took that so well, turn over.”

He helps you turn onto your back and as soon as you’re facing him, he kneels.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Rewarding you, the fuck’s it look like I’m doing?” Mr Schlatt asks, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

His facial hair tickles slightly, making goosebumps rise on your skin. The closer his kisses get to your center, the more desperate you get. You’re nearly dripping on the desk now and can barely take anymore. So, you grip Mr Schlatt’s hair and tug, shoving his face into your cunt. He grunts in surprise but then starts licking.

He switches from soft featherlike licks to harsh sucking. You look down at the man between your legs, and he’s flushed, eating you out like it’s his last goddamn meal. He’s slurping up your juices and the way his eyes are closed and his arms are wrapped around your thighs bring you closer.

“F-fuck, Mr Schlatt…” You moan. “You feel so good.”

Mr Schlatt looks up at you and his pupils are blown. His normal chocolate brown eyes are nearly black as he pulls away from your pussy, a string of juices and saliva connecting the two of you.

“Daddy.” He rasps.

“Huh?”

“Call me Daddy.”

You smile down and grip his hair, shoving his face back where you need it most. The action makes his cock twitch in his pants and precum dot at his tip. A harsh suck on your clit makes you arch your back.

“Daddy, fuck!” You mewl. “Keep doing that.”

Mr Schlatt groans against you, reaching up and probing your wet hole with his thick finger. He slides it in effortlessly and is quick to find the spot that makes your vision blur.

Your thighs clench on his head as you feel the tightness in your stomach. The grip that you have on his hair is like iron as you grind your hips. Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your hole squeezing Mr Schlatt’s finger like a vice. He allows you to ride it out, the noises you’re making only driving him closer to his own orgasm.

With one minor leg adjustment, Mr Schlatt’s cock brushes against his zipper just right and he cums. He groans against you, hips thrusting into nothing. He’s sure he looks pathetic, but he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s got his hottest student’s pussy in his mouth right now.

He pulls back once you’re done and stands up. You gasp as he grips your jaw with a smile.

“Open.” He orders.

You allow your jaw to go slack and Mr Schlatt allows a big glob of spit to land in your mouth. You swallow, tasting yourself.

“Good girl.” Mr Schlatt praises, patting your cheek.

“Am I gonna pass?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“We might have to have a few more meetings to go over things, but I think you’ll manage a passing grade.”

You leave Mr Schlatt’s office that afternoon and walk off, your clit still throbbing. You’re sure the next few meetings aren’t going to be nearly as boring as you thought they would be.

[absxntmxnded]

LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

—————————————————————————

origins!logan x reader

warnings: fluff, no use of y/n

Had this thought in my head and I read a shit ton of Logan blurbs and fics but I’ve never posted anything I’ve randomly written and I’m deffo nervous but fuck it I guess

—————————————————————————

You woke up to it snowing, just like the weatherman predicted. You needed to go into town to get groceries and other necessities, and having put it off all week proved to be a poor decision.

You reluctantly slid out of bed, from the safe, warm, space, and wrapped yourself in your cardigan before padding downstairs to the kitchen. As you filled your coffee pot with water you peered out the window to get a gist of just how bad it was snowing.

It was coming down, but not too hard and the visibility was still good. The tall pine trees that lined the edge of your property swayed with the tender swirls of snow. The sun was unsettlingly bright against the whiteness of the snow, blinding you from looking out for too long.

You poured a cup of coffee and settled at the dining room table, seated perfectly to watch the snow fall and the wildlife wake up with the sun. This life was not perfect by any means, but you knew why Logan chose to home you both out here. It was for comfort, safety, and peace knowing not many would trek through the unknown to find you.

After finishing your coffee, you made your way to the front door, slipping on your winter gear. Tall, thick boots now adorned your feet, and a fur-lined parka wrapping the last remnants of heat from your bed against you. You knew if you wanted to make it to town you would have to shovel the driveway now and leave soon before the weather got worse. With that, with your now gloved hands, you opened the front door and invited the bitter cold in. The wind whipped you in the face and it stung hard, but nothing you weren’t already used to.

You grabbed the shovel and started a path from the steps of the front deck to the truck. From there, you went up and down the driveway in straight lines, careful not to slip. You were so focused on the task at hand you could barely hear Logan calling from the front deck.

“Princess! What are you doing?” Logan calls. You turn around to see your boyfriend standing there, head cocked, arms across his chest with that ever present scowl across his face. You knew he wasn’t seriously upset with you but you never enjoyed seeing him upset. “Give me the shovel, you go inside and get warmed up.” Logan says while coming down the path you made.

You pulled the shovel out of his reach. “Not a chance Logan, I’m almost done, I can handle it.” You said, matching his stern tone.

“I don’t care if you can handle it, I will finish, now go.” He said, pointing at the house. You weren’t going to give in that easily.

“Logan, I am perfectly capable of shoveling the driveway! I used to do it when I lived with my parents, seriously I’m fine.” You appreciated Logan’s kindness to help you with everything, but sometimes you just really wanted to show him how independent you were.

Logan places his hands on your shoulders. dusting the snow off. “Darlin, I know you’re capable of shoveling the driveway. You’re capable of a lot of things, but you live with me now. I’m taking care of you now, so I do this, okay?” You felt your heart swell and you couldn’t even think of where to begin what to say. Your whole life, you were the person everyone else relied on. The feeling of gratitude and love filled your chest and soon your eyes. You stammered, not even knowing how to respond to Logan.

He didn’t even give you a chance to answer before he picked you up and slung you over his shoulders like you weighed nothing. “Logan!” you screeched, “Put me down!” You were giggling and smacking Logan’s back, but that was hardly a deterrent to him. He effortlessly carried you back into the house, placing you by the wood stove to heat you quicker. Carefully, he undressed your winter gear and clothes, laying them on the back of the couch to dry. You allowed him this moment in caring for you, because you knew deep down this was mending broken pieces of him, slowly but surely.

Before you knew it, you were down to your undies and bra, being hoisted over Logan’s shoulder again, this time being taken upstairs. “Logan! I can walk!”

“I know darlin.”

Logan set you down gently on the bed and turned to rummage through his drawers. He turned back around holding sweatpants and a sweatshirt, which were clearly his. A toothy grinned crossed his face as he walked to you. He first put the sweatpants on you, sliding them over each foot and up to your hips. Then he carefully pulled the oversized hoodie over you. Last, to finish off your look, he brought out the warmest cabin socks he could find, carefully slipping those on as well. He stepped back and gave a once over of his job. You couldn’t help but break out into laughter.

“Whats’o funny?” He scrunched his nose and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Nothing Logan, you’re just going overboard, I’m fine, was hardly cold and I could’ve fini-.” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as Logan cut you off with a sweet kiss.

“Like I said before, you live here now. I’m supposed to be taking care of you, so let me. You don’t need to do everything anymore. I love you.” Logan held your hands and kissed your forehead before laying you down and pulling the covers over you. “Now you lay here and warm up. I’ll finish the driveway, and cook breakfast. Then we can head to town. Okay darlin?” Logan’s hazel eyes were surrounded by those crinkles you absolutely adored, and a bright smile only reserved for you.

You nodded. “Okay, Lo…” you smiled up at him, taking in his gentle features and soaking in the love and display of affection Logan was giving you. Logan leaned down and pressed a longer kiss to your forehead before pushing some hair to the side of your face. “I love you sweetheart.” He said as he moved to the door, glancing back one more time to flash a grin before disappearing down the hallway.

You weren’t used to the one being waited on and getting to relax, but living with someone like Logan made it easy.

[noellez-best-life23]

When you'd tried to argue about it, Mayor Walker hit back with "well we can't take any more from the school! Besides, no one needs the library anymore. They've all got their home computers and Internet. You'll be fine with the new budget." um excuse me yes, they do why do i want to slap someone already (sorry I work at library/bookstore) you're the mayor figure something else out

mayor Walker really didn't seem to understand what the people of his city actually needed, but he didn't seem to care so long as he was in charge. i dont like him

The biker, Bucky, smiles, "seems to me 'good folk' don't go harassing people who are just trying to do their job." You have to bite back a laugh at that comment. It's no good riling her up even more. i don't know if he's going to be good or bad yet but i like how he is sticking up for the reader here

"Oh Doll," he cups your chin. "You don't need to be scared of me. I'll be good to you. oh no bucky why you got to be like that

ok so the spicy smutty parts are hot but hes still makes me feel icky with some of the stuff he says

Walker shudders a little before looking at you and shakily saying, "I'm so sorry for cutting your budget so much. I will amend that today, making sure to take the money out of my own salary." ok so i like this part just because walker sucks so much for cutting the budget in the first place and he deserves a broken nose for being so rude and not thinking of the people

ok so i loved this and I'm excited to see where this goes and how it's going to get if I'm going to fully hate bucky in the future parts or will he be redeeming either way this was amazing

Your small town has been invaded by a biker club. They want a peaceful takeover but they can twist your arm if needed.

Holy shnikes, I spent so much time working on this! I almost had to make it a two part story! I've barely been able to work on anything else because I needed to get this story written up instead. I honestly think I've never written anything like this before.

Word Count: ~3.6k

Warnings: Choking, Dub/non consent, Implied violence, Knife play (mild). Please let me know if I missed any!

Next Part

Sheriff Lee Bodecker and Mayor John Walker caved to the bikers pretty quickly. Part of you could understand why; only a handful of officers in the entire county compared to a full biker gang? They'd never stand a chance. Better to be allowed to live without having to worry about ending up in the hospital. The Mayor didn't care so long as he got to keep his job, which now meant making the bikers happy.

Which meant paying the bikers with money from the city budget. Your library's budget in particular.

When you'd tried to argue about it, Mayor Walker hit back with "well we can't take any more from the school! Besides, no one needs the library anymore. They've all got their home computers and Internet. You'll be fine with the new budget."

In the end you'd had to let go all but one very part-time employee, relying on two or three volunteers instead. You were already working long hours but now they felt endless. With the budget cut, you had to reduce the purchases of new books in favor of maintaining the Internet connection several of older patrons relied on. Almost half of your day was spent working on applying for grants for additional funding for after-school programs and free-lunch programs for during the summer breaks.

Looking over everything, you were certain you'd have to dip into your own meager savings if you were going to meet the needs of your community. Mayor Walker really didn't seem to understand what the people of his city actually needed, but he didn't seem to care so long as he was in charge.

During an after-school reading time with the Kindergartners you're surprised by the entrance of one of the bikers. You think he's the second-in-command, but you're not sure. He's definitely not the blond in charge; "Cap" you think they call their leader. Still, you have kids to take care of, and this newcomer is a grown man. He can take care of himself.

When the story is done it's time for a nap for the kids. This is very likely the longest they've ever been away from home, away from family, and the sleep helps keep them from getting overstimulated. It was another thing Mayor Walker just didn't understand. All of these kids had parents that worked full time and couldn't afford a babysitter. There were no daycare options, either. Decades ago the kids could be left with a grandparent or a cousin, but they're all working as well or moved out of town. That left the library as a haven for the kids who didn't have access to the limited after-school activities as an option.

If there's anything good about working in such a tiny library it's that you can keep an eye on the kids and the biker while going about your other duties. Thankfully you'd gotten some WD-40 for the book carts so they wouldn't squeak and wake anyone up while you re-shelve books.

You also get a better look at the biker. He's sitting in one of the chairs reading The Hobbit. You hate to admit it but he does look handsome. Longish dark hair, steely blue eyes. For some reason he's still wearing his gloves. If only his arrival hadn't heralded such troubles for you. Well, at least he wasn't causing trouble.

Shelving the books gets you a bit of stretching and some impromptu squat exercises. You spend so much of your time at a desk that this is the closest thing you get to a workout. Given how your body continually snaps, crackles and pops, you could probably use more.

Your exercise is cut short by Ruth's entry and you have to fight the urge to let out a groan. Ruth is one of the older ladies in town who refused to get a computer for her home. Unfortunately that means each time she visits, you have to walk her through even the most basic elements of using a computer so she can send an email to her granddaughter. The entire time she complains to you about how much she hates computers and how much she wishes her daughter would've raised her own daughter correctly and been happy to just accept a phone call, and on, and on, and on.

"Hello Ruth," you quietly say, customer service smile on. "Let me go ahead and log you in to one of our computers?"

"I'm not an invalid!" she loudly complains. You try to quiet her, pointing to the sleeping children but she isn't having it. "All you youngsters thinking an old lady can't do anything for herself! How dare you imply I can't log on to a computer? I'll do it my own self."

You take a breath to steady yourself before looking over at the little ones. They seem largely undisturbed but, knowing Ruth, they'll be awake sooner rather than later. Sighing you go ahead and get their after nap snacks ready. Just another hour or so until their parents start coming by to pick them up. It doesn't take long before Ruth is yelling at the computer, complaining to you that "it's clearly broken" and "why can't we just write letters" along with her forever complaint of "wouldn't have to do this if she'd just pick up the damn phone!"

The kids start waking up and you quickly have to balance keeping them from being upset by the angry lady while also knowing any attempts to placate the angry lady will be met with more anger. Thankfully the snacks are a good distraction for most.

"Would you like some help on a different computer, Ruth?" you ask through gritted teeth, knowing the answer.

"Oh stop treating me like one of those brats," she snaps back. "What kind of library is this where computers are more important than books? Shouldn't even have these monstrosities here!"

"Excuse me, Ruth, is it? I'm Bucky." You'd been so distracted going between Ruth and the kids you didn't notice the biker had put down his book and walked over.

"Oh don't get me started on you and yours!" Ruth retorts. "Town was so much better before you hooligans came along! Now I can't even call the police to help me out when then those teenagers are loitering in my yard!"

"Well Ruth, let me give you my number so the next time you can call me instead of the police," he offers. You're surprised at how calm he's sounding despite being yelled at.

Ruth huffs, "you no-good-beatniks! How dare you insult me! You should get out of our town and leave us good folk alone!"

The biker, Bucky, smiles, "seems to me 'good folk' don't go harassing people who are just trying to do their job." You have to bite back a laugh at that comment. It's no good riling her up even more.

Ruth storms out, letting you focus on the kids who are looking unsure if they should be upset or not. You give the biker a quick "thank you" before giving the little ones all of your attention. He nods and goes back to his reading.

Soon enough the parents start coming in and picking up their kids. Several of them stick around long enough to check out a book or movie and you have to balance taking care of the remaining children with getting the families out on their way. It's always such an ado that makes you really wish you could hire some extra help. A few parents complain about the snacks you gave their kids and you remind them, yet again, that they are free to donate snacks they consider appropriate. All the while you keep your customer service smile up, despite how much you're internally screaming and crying.

Things finally calm down and you're able to sit and take a breather. You desperately want to quit but this community needs a library, even if the Mayor doesn't think so. And goodness knows they'd never be able to hire anyone else to work these conditions. You look over to where the biker is sitting, still reading. If his gang hadn't shown up, you'd be in a much better position. Maybe even able to take a vacation.

Checking the time you decide to keep your professionalism and head over to the man. "Sir, excuse me?" He looks up at you, bright blue eyes momentarily startled. "Sir, we're going to be closing in about a half hour."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing," he nods as he closes the book. "Also, please call me Bucky."

"Sure thing, Bucky," you nod, too tired to argue.

"Gotta say, you do a lot of work for a librarian."

"What do you mean by that?" You don't hold back the bite in your tone and cross your arms.

He chuckles, "I didn't mean to offend. Just, I thought librarians were just supposed to check out the books, y'know? Maybe answer questions? Didn't expect you to also be a daycare, IT person and all that."

"And that's just the work that you saw," you snap at him.

"Don't you have anyone helping you out?"

"I did, before your gang came along!" You're unable to hold back any longer. "Because of you the Mayor cut my budget! I had to fire pretty much all my staff! I can't get the half the books the people of this community want! I have to beg the state government for funds to make sure kids have food when they don't school meals! Do you know how much cleaning I have to do because there's no room in the budget for professionals?! Do you have any idea how many of the things around here I have to pay for out of my own pocket?! You bikers demanded protection money and it came out of my budget!"

Bucky's gloved hand grabs neck, stopping you from talking. You try to fight but his arm is stronger than expected. Surprisingly he doesn't look angry so much as amused. "You know, I never thought I could go for the librarian type but this fire of yours does something to me." Your nostrils flare and he chuckles. "I've been yelled at twice today, Doll. A man can only take so much."

"I'm sorry," you grumble as best you can.

His hand loosens, "what was that, Doll?"

"I'm sorry," you repeat. "While you are the reason my budget was cut, you're not the one who made the decision. I'm sorry I took my anger and frustration out on you."

"That's more like it," he snickers. He pulls you uncomfortably close to himself. "And I'm more than happy to reward that better behavior." You look at him, confusion written all over your face, as the leather of his glove caresses your cheek. "Like I said, I never thought a librarian would rouse my interest, but you're something else." You roll your eyes and try to pull away, but he isn't having it. His grip tightens around your throat again, even as his smile widens, baring his teeth. "I can be very good to you, Doll, so long as you're good for me."

His implication is clear and you really don't have any options.

"I need to close the library," you grumble.

Bucky removes his hand from around your throat, "good idea. Don't want to get caught now, do we?"

Your body is shaking as you go about the routine for closing the library. Your brain is working overtime to try to figure out some kind of way out of this. Running isn't an option. Even if you made it to your car, where could you go? Calling for help definitely wouldn't do anything. You seriously doubt he would hesitate to make an example of you if you ran.

With the last of the doors locked and the blinds closed you return the biker and almost whimper, "my office?"

"Oh Doll," he cups your chin. "You don't need to be scared of me. I'll be good to you."

"Do...do you...do you have a condom?"

He chuckles, "don't worry, we're not going that far tonight. But I love that you're ready for it."

Without warning he grabs you and pulls you in for a suffocating, forceful kiss. His tongue quickly pushing its way past your lips. Mentally reminding yourself to do what he wants, you open your mouth to give him access and he moans. One of his hands moves down to your breast and you have to will yourself to not flinch away from the touch.

"Take off the cardigan. And the top," he orders.

You back up just a bit so you can oblige. "The bra as well?"

"Nah, that'll be for me to remove." His voice sounds rougher than before and his eyes are definitely darker. He seems amused by the fact that you maintain eye contact while removing your clothes. "You're so pretty when you're defiant," he teases. "But I'm sure I'll have you pleading for more in no time."

Willing your eyes not to roll you instead snipe back, "don't make promises you can't keep. Wouldn't be the first disappointment I've had."

He has the nerve to laugh at that. "I'll make a believer out of you, Doll."

Walking to your office, he sits in your chair, gesturing for you to get on his lap. "Make me think you want this," he commands.

Taking a deep breath, eyes never leaving his, you move to straddle him. He's surprised when you grab the back of his head and turn his face up before shoving your tongue down his throat. He moans in appreciation and his arms wrap around you as he returns your fervor. You bite his lower lip and start grinding against his crotch.

He removes his right glove before undoing your bra faster than you expected. You pull apart from him just long enough to remove the bra and he takes the opportunity to latch himself to your breast. His ungloved hand moves to fondle your other breast while his surprisingly strong left arm holds you up. His ministrations have you gasping as your body instinctively continues to grind against him. His slow, languid movements are in direct contrast to the speed your hips have set and the difference is affecting you.

Suddenly you're on your back on the desk. Bucky had managed to move his left hand to prevent your head from banging on the desk. Your eyes widened from more than just surprise at the realization of how fast and strong he was.

"Sorry, Doll, you were getting me too worked up already," he smirks at you. He moves his hands so they're on each side of your head, hovering over you. "It really is the quiet ones, huh?" You can't help roll your eyes and he chuckles. "Let's see how loud you can get."

He quickly unbuttons your pants and pulls them off of you before getting out a knife. Your breath hitches and he chuckles as he takes the blade to your panties, cutting them off of you. He puts the panties to his nose, "you smell so good. How long's it been, Doll? Months? Can't imagine you get a lotta action in this town."

"It's been a while," you confess, heat burning your cheeks at how turned on you are. You can't bring yourself to look at him.

He stuffs your panties into his pocket and taps your thighs with the knife so you spread them open. "You look so pretty like this," he snickers, clearly amused by your discomfort.

He slams the knife into the desk by your head, making you yelp in surprise. Using his left arm to hover over you, he whispers into your ear, "such a pretty scream," as his fingers start playing with your pussy. He groans at how wet you are, "fuck, Doll, I should'a known you'd be into the rough play."

You squeal as he mercilessly jams two of his fingers into you, all the way to the knuckle. As you involuntarily arch your back he alternates licking, sucking and nibbling your nipples. He adds a third finger and mercilessly drives his hand in and out of your soaked pussy. He pushes himself up and uses his now free arm to start choking you. You try to push his arm away, but it's impossibly strong. You're shocked to feel your orgasm building as your gasping for air.

He must sense it too because he grins and starts ordering you to "give me what I want, Doll. Cum around my fingers. I can feel how close you are." He gives your nipple a sharp bite that pushes you over the edge and cum with a hoarse scream, his fingers never slowing down, his grip never letting up.

It's only after you've stopped cumming that he eases up. "That was fucking gorgeous," he taunts before pulling his fingers out of you and licking them. He closes his eyes and moans at your flavor, making you burn with embarrassment. You start to get up but his left hand keeps you pressed to the desk. "I'm not done, Doll."

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I shouldn't have assumed."

"God you're a good, smart girl. Keep those legs spread for me." You do as he says while trying to look anywhere but him. He pulls the knife out of your desk and flips it so that the hilt is pointed towards you. "Look at me, Doll. I want you to watch." You struggle to look and he rubs the hilt of the knife against your oversensitive clit, making you jump. "I said, look. At. Me. Doll." You're quick to follow his orders this time.

He puts the knife away before undoing his belt and pants. As much as you could feel when you were grinding against him, as much as you could see the his bulge, you weren't expecting his cock to be so big. Your eyes widen and he chuckles, "like I said, we're not going that far tonight. Now be good and don't move unless I tell you."

Grabbing your legs he pulls you so your ass is a little off the desk and runs his cock over your pussy, gathering up your slick and rubbing over your clit, making you whimper. He starts groaning in pleasure, "god you're so wet from just one orgasm. Can't wait to see how soaked you get after a full night with me." He positions your thighs so that you're squeezing his cock between them and he gives a few thrusts, spreading your own juices all your thighs.

"Gonna mark you up with my cum," he growls as he picks up his pace, squeezing your thighs even tighter. His hands are hurting you but his cock keeps rubbing against your clit and it's feeling so damn good you don't register his words. You moan and whine as you barrel towards your next orgasm. "That's it, Doll. You make the prettiest faces. Can't wait to see you covered in my cum. Gonna look so damn pretty with my seed all over you."

He squeezes your thighs impossibly tight and you cum so hard from the pain and pleasure combination you don't notice him ejaculating all over your stomach and chest.

When he finally catches his breath he reaches into his jacket and pulls out his phone to take a photo. You try to protest but he gives you a warning look. You drop your face, trying to not cry from how dirty you feel. He puts the phone away and lifts your chin, "don't worry, Doll. That photo is just for me." He kisses the top of your head and you try not to wince. "And because you were so good to me, made me feel so good, I'll be good to you. Now get your clothes back on and I'll escort you home."

"Can I clean up?"

"Not until you get home," he growls. "You don't get rid of my marks until I give you permission."

"Yes, Bucky," you sniffle.

"Aw, don't be like that, Doll," he gently chides. "I take care of what's mine."

The next morning you wake up from a nightmare riddled sleep, feeling more tired than ever. After your morning routine you step outside to head to the library but stop short when you see Bucky on his motorcycle, waiting for you. Wordlessly he hands you a helmet and you don't even try to question or talk him out of whatever he has planned, you just put the helmet on and get on the bike behind him, holding him incredibly tight so you don't fall off.

He stops in front of City Hall and helps you off the bike before walking you in. He doesn't stop until he's led you to the Mayor's office. Your shocked to see Cap, the leader of the biker gang, sitting next to Mayor Walker, whose nose has recently been broken. You gasp and try to turn away but Bucky grabs you and keeps you facing the Mayor.

Cap pats Walker's shoulder, "now what did I tell you?"

Walker shudders a little before looking at you and shakily saying, "I'm so sorry for cutting your budget so much. I will amend that today, making sure to take the money out of my own salary."

Your shaking, unable to respond. Bucky whispers into your ear, "what do you say, Doll?"

"Th-thank you, Mayor Walker," you stutter. "I...I really appreciate that you've ch-changed your mind."

"That's my girl," Bucky whispers before guiding you out of the office.

Next Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly