#it seems so raunchy to see his knees

[fyeaheddiemunson]

[gladiatorcunt]

- # LEMON SUGAR !

flew like a moth to you (sunlight)

cw: weird pet play, reader has a vagina, large age gap (reader early 20’s & logan is…. not), HEAVY PISS KINK, dirty yucky icky gross vibes, xmen 2 coded logan, dad (father figure) bf talk and behaviors (old man, kiddo, dad, essentially lifestyle dom-ing you) anal plug mention, praise kink but one usage of ‘bitch’ and ‘toilet’, reference to a canon scene with jean but in this au she was just clowning on him as a friend, scogan crumbs, mentally ill & unhinged!reader, self objectification/dehumanization (?), reader: “i wish a/b/o was real :(”, pt.2 to . bc the dynamic might be confusing, implied unaware mutant!reader

do not copy, translate, or feed this work to ai

1k event. / please consider commissioning me

Logan doesn’t slap his tip against your cheek more than a quick initial love tap (if a tight awkward handshake from a man decades older than you was a sexual act) but he loves to force your head against his crotch and really massage it into your skin. His other hand holds his dick like he’s aiming to piss, a slight scowl twisting his lips because he’s trying to concentrate. His cigar hangs out of his mouth and his bulky hips swivel as he grinds his precum into your face, cheeks, around your eyes, lips, check check check.

He doesn’t even necessarily want you to suck him off that bad and he’s not even trying to cum. orgasming is a slower pursuit for him these days anyway. He just wants to dirty his puppy up a little, enrichment and whatever the fuck. Maybe you can make a game of trying to catch the salty droplets on your tongue, see if you can spot them when they’re about to gush out and trickle down.

An activity can both be a perverted parlor trick and a form of indulgent self care that trivial things like ice rollers or under eye patches couldn’t replace.

“There we go, atta puppy.” Logan chuckles and ruffles your hair when you manage to lick away a bead of precum before it can drip down out of your reach.

“Daddy, don’t tease. ‘m trying to focus, that’s rude.” You give him a good shake, smiling wildly.

You’re already drunk and loopy just huffing the pure musk emanating from his uncut cock. You hum as the salty tang of his juices taint your tastebuds, luxuriating in the aftertaste like you were chowing down on a dainty macarron. He doesn’t really believe in eating or drinking anything special to make his crotch and the things it produces taste better. You couldn’t be more happy about that, the whiskey sour twang riding on the flavor notes were much more preferable than some biblical concoction of milk and honey. If only it was more acidic, that way it could burn a hole through your tongue and your cervix. Marking you so thoroughly from the deepest parts of your soul, you’d always be empty and every pang of pain would call for the man that caused it to soothe your burns with his saliva.

Intimacy with Logan feels like you’re reconnecting in whatever version of the garden of Eden can exist on Earth. Why can’t it be here? With you on your knees so close to barking into the skin of your old man’s cock, a fancy cushion settled under you with little golden tassels hanging off the corners. You are always so willing to be the best you can be for him, but he’ll never allow your service to come at the price of individual pain. Your eyes flutter and you take one of your many breaks to plunge your nostrils into his thick bush.

Wooden and spicy, your favorite perfume that is undeniably raunchy yet sensuous and romantic. Natural. You never thought you could be so in love with how a man’s pubes smell, but you can’t say that you thought that any part of this would have become your life’s purpose in more ways than not. Logan chuckles and pats your cheek, enamored with how clearly you seem to be enjoying suffocating yourself in his groin. He sharply inhales through his nose when you move up to trail your tongue along his happy trail, lapping at the thinner hairs because you adore each one just as much as every part of him.

“Bet you wish you could live off my dick, don’t ya, bunny?”

Of course you nod and moan as you let yourself be pulled back to where you’re supposed to be, the mothership calls you home and you answer happily with your phantom tail wagging all the way.

You pant, digging your nose bridge into the crease where his hip bleeds into his inner thigh, “Mmfh- hah… tastes good, Daddy. I could die here…”

You wanted to cut your voice break of ‘Daddy’ short, but you haven’t arrived at that particular station in your subconscious to shed your skin entirely. You’re having trouble forming a coherent line of thought and finishing your sentences now, but you feel sheepish about how easily he can box you into going nonverbal, so you clamor to stay afloat.

You forget that Logan knows your game by now, every step and caveat and every miniscule and complicated rule. It’s cute how you’re still ashamed of letting your dear old dad see you in all of your bunny-puppy-deer-kitty pet glory, when he clocked that shit the minute your shaky eyes fixated on his truck’s glove box rather than make a second of eye contact with him. You’re fucked up, there’s something fractured deeper in you that you keep under a diary shaped lock and key, but all these jagged edges have bows teetering on their precipices.

You’ve let him put them there, with a fond eyeroll and heaps of head pats. Thank your lucky stars that there’s something fucked up with his psyche too, buried under all his other baggage, because that first ride home with you didn’t end in tears and your nipples caught in his canines. You got to be a bunny settling down in their deserved cozy den instead of a rabbit relying on their prey instincts to throw the predator chasing them off their twitching fuzzy cotton tail.

You don’t get to hide and shrink in yourself. Not when the curled up needy angel hidden under the layers of you makes his jaw ache so ferociously that it’s borderline bestial.

Baby, you’ve gotta know that if he could, he’d pick you up with his teeth by your scruff so your feet would never have to touch the ground and grow ripe with callouses.

He takes a puff from his cigar and shakes the excess ash over your shoulder, out of your view because he also knows that you’d try to swallow the unhealthy specks down too. It’s a constant thing on his mind, the never ending job of pulling your leash enough to wean you off of engulfing whatever weird shit into your mouth you can see out of the corner of your eye. And if it comes from him or was in contact with him? Hell, the stuff might as well be damn catnip to you.

He thinks he feels the same way about you, that’s what he gets for being stupid enough to have an inch of his heart unguarded. You found a way and wormed your way through his arteries, and now he’d rather go sober cold turkey than let you squirm away. Which is what you try to do by pulling back and settling soft hands on his hairy and beefy thighs.

He’s got you hook, line, and sinker when he clasps a burly hand around the base of his thick cock in the poor imitation of a knot. He even squeezes in short pulses, bringing to mind what it would look like swelling up and pumping you full of potent cum. Breeding you with all the love of a man who wants more of you in the world because that might make him believe in it again. He wags his length in his hand to you, wordlessly offering you your favorite snack because you’ve been so very good for your old man.

“Come on, hun, want your treat? I know my puppy wants this big dick in their cute fuckin’ mouth.” He grumbles, stubbing his cigar out on his arms without even flinching or gritting his teeth and tossing it on the floor.

The burn’s already healed by the time you’ve gotten yourself and obediently let your tongue hang out of your mouth. He grunts, pleased, and dabs his sticky tip on the center of your tongue. It gives you the taste you crave while simultaneously depriving you of having your mouth filled like you desperately need to be able to get through the day.

You whine, Logan’s lips split on a wry smile but he doesn’t laugh this time. Nah, he’s too busy feeding his throbbing cock into your mouth, cutting off your whining and reducing a thunderous sound to a muffled crack of lightning.

“Theeeeeeeeere we go, kiddo, relax.” He says a few inches in, because your gag reflex is already tickling the back of your throat.

You breathe through your nose and distract yourself by playing with the hairs on his legs, drawing little hearts and stars as you take more of his length. Tears well up in your pitiful eyes but you brave through it. They eventually bubble over as your lips are forced to stretch, but Logan’s rough thumb dutifully wipes them away just like how you’d attentively cleaned his tip.

His head falls back with a slight crack and his sweaty pecs heave, “Drank a whole lot for you today, ‘m all nice and backed up just waitin’ for a pretty lil’ thing to relieve myself with.”

Suddenly you’re a bunny hopping off on a mission, no god could pull you off of Logan’s musky cock as you swallow around him. You don’t really feel like bobbing your head and humming today, you’re tuckered out from how late he kept you up late last night. He’s not going to just fuck your mouth without being asked, as much as he cares about you, you’re impossibly cute when you’re forced to do the tiniest bit of work.

If your mouth wasn’t so stuffed full of dick you’d pout, and the raised eyebrow Logan gives you means he knows that. You’re a good pet though, so you work yourself off of his length, take a deep breath, and immediately slide back down to the hilt. His full balls press against your chin and you rub the heavy sacks with both hands.

“Oh, fuck.” Logan groans, his fingernails dig into your scalp like he’s the one that needs to stay grounded. “Your gonna make your old man jizz his pants too quick if you keep fuckin’ playin’ with my balls like that.”

You don’t mind that at all, but there's still something else you’re after. You didn’t think much of how many bottles of water and glasses of alcohol he had thrown back today, maybe it was some sort of mutant thing that you just didn’t understand. Super dehydration or whatever, but the fact that he had been preparing a little surprise for his piss thirsty puppy made you want to give him your bloody heart right out of your chest.

His moans and growled promises of rewards and declarations of the rawest form of love a person could feel fade into the background. You hollow your cheeks and go for gold, wet ‘schlop!’-ing sounds bounce off the walls as you fuck your throat with his girthy cock. Not the longest in the world, another one of your blessings (you’ve heard mutterings about mission showers and some guy that shoots lasers out of his eyes taking that prize), but the way it fills up the space in your mouth to the point it could burst gives your clit tachycardia.

“Yeah, fuck, are you ready to drink up, bitch? ‘m gonna use you like a toilet, gonna cum too- god fuckin’ damn-”

You give his balls a solid squeeze as the golden shower pours down your throat and past the seam of your lips to the floor. You don’t stop your ministrations, you actually speed up your pace and bring your wrists into it. Your hands bumping against his imitation knot-hand as you move them in circles, jacking him off while your plush lips glide up and down his cock.

You’re rubbing your pussy against the cushion, it has corduroy buttons that send a tingle down your spine when they catch your clit. The emerald green fabric drags and moves as you hump it while you put your all into making your dad-boyfriend-everything cum. You’re outright bouncing his heavy balls in your hands now, they’re so full you know that one load isn’t going to be nearly enough. So you tell yourself to lock in and hum, sending vibrations down his dick.

Determined puppies get extra treats, and you’ve never gone without them. So you push yourself to make eye contact, flicking your eyes up to stare at Logan as you ruin your own throat via his dick like it was nothing more than your toy. You think it’s the sheer and essentially licentious mannerisms and the glaringly obvious truth that there are men who are not immune to watching a pretty pet posturize themselves on an altar of their own making just to paw at their owner’s legs.

“My baby bunny, too damn sweet to me, yessssss-” His mouth wrenches up almost in pain as he clings to the back of your head and pounds your throat on his own for the next minute.

“Drink it all up, let me feel you swallow it down f’r me.”

You purposefully yank yourself off of his mid stream and duck down to bob his balls on your tongue, lathering them in that pungent scent. You rotate your wrist around his tip, coaxing him to empty everything he has in him and give it all to you. Your hand becomes just as scent marked as his balls and the divots in your collarbone where drops of his piss and cum are forming tiny pools.

He groans at the sight, “Doing so fuckin’ well, collectin’ Daddy’s juices and hoardin’ ‘em all for yourself.”

Your mouth envelops his twitch dick once more, most of what Logan keeps cooped up for you belongs in your growling tummy.

“You better not hiss at me when I have to wash your mouth out later, baby.”

Thus, your perfect record remains intact, you beam around his still hard dick as you float in a starless sea of white and yellow. A coat rack for cock fulfilling its duties.

His piss isn’t too orange-y, you’re glad you don’t have to nag him about cutting back on the booze this time.

Sadly there’s no blood sticking to your scalp from his nails, but you embrace the sting their indents leave behind. They’re almost as breathtaking as the plug buried in your ass, Dad always likes to keep your holes stretched out and ready.

—————————————————————————

“Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan. They don’t bring him home. They marry the good guy.”

With you, he was that good guy. Whatever it meant to be one after all these years and invisible scars. It’s indescribable, how much meaning you can find in having to gain the strength to take care of someone else completely. Be their Atlas and shoulder the world so they can waltz around you, their wings spread wide. He’s glad, deep down, that your wings don’t extend past the small house he’s stuffed you in.

Logan Howlett deserves a nice thing or two every once in a while, and he already got a bottle of scotch from Scott. Fucker thinks he’s so clever. You’d do just fine being the second nice thing. A shame that the nicest thing you probably have is that slick stained cushion, he’s not anybody to write home about. But you seem to have stitched your sides together when he wasn’t looking, sewn your identity into his until you had emotionally fused into one being.

It happened way too fast and when he thought he wasn’t meant for loving a little pup like you, but he’s tired of being some old grump about it. You’d probably snap and try to beat him to a pulp with the bats he keeps in the closet (for you to use in emergencies since you don’t leave), and he’d have to hunt you down through the

Anything else other than you meant about as much to him as a pile of cigarette butts.

And some time later when the dam bursts for the first time and you’re trying not to fall off that cliff, sisyphus-esque struggling through recurring hoarse sobs because Logan is uncomfortably stroking your back gently as if you were a person and not a corpse, you’ll start to feel the molten hot gold seeping in and filling the cracks.

Maybe one day you can tell him about the v-shaped scars on your back, the ones that look like they were created when something was ripped away from you. They’re slanted craters, almost, hard material resembling bone jutting out from your back. Hooks lacking their ornaments.

Hell snatch up your old fashioned grocery list (written with an almost completely dried out ink pen from the bank on a flimsy college ruled sheet of paper) and make a quick run while you heal more than just your body, submerged in another acid trip of a dream.

You wanted to make a lemon cake before the summer ended, it’s always been your favorite.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

It'd be really super duper cool if you wrote a fic about Stanley finding lewd and/or suggestive polaroid pictures of reader that their girly friend helped them take as a little present behind his back 👀 maybe he finds them stashed in his wallet... Like, ass/boob shots or close-ups of them in cute poses wearing their undergarments or something? I absolutely adore all the drabbles and fics you've been pumping out lately! I'm OBSESSED!

A/n: *SCREAMING* because I love this and been hoping someone would suggest something like this or the reader and Stan making a porno together 🤭.

Also thank you! That mean's so much!

Turning your back to your friend, you lifted up both of your arms fixing your hair. The only thing you wore were a pair of black lace panties. Your friend snapping the picture getting a cheeky reveal your backside and hips.

The day dragged on as your friended guided you into different poses. From you kneeling on the bed, your head turned slightly away from the camera, lips parted, eyes hooded.

To you sitting on the drawer, with one leg extended down and the other bent to around knee level with your foot resting on the open drawer.

Your fingers were clutching his gold chain, the only other piece of clothing you wore being the lace panties.

And once you were done you could help but give your friend a thank you, that you'll take the rest from their having wanting to take a few more raunchy one's for Stan because those....those would be for his eyes only.

Being the only one in the house, Stan spent most of the day helping Ford get the place ready for Dipper and Mabel. He was so distracted he hadn't realized you were gone. Eye's snapping to the door opening he half expected to see his twin spewing some nonsense, not you holding something behind your back.

"Whatcha got there doll face."

Letting out a soft hum, you smiled as you sat yourself on Stan's lap giving his cheek a kiss while you placed the envelop in his lap. "Just a little gift for you, since you've been over working yourself Stan."

"Is it money?!"

"What!? No! Stan just open it."

Giving you a grin, Stan pinched your hips. "I'm only teasin ya." Though his eyes went wide as he looked over each and every one of the photos. He felt his mouth go dry and the slacks he wore suddenly felt a lot tighter.

You looked like a goddess, you maybe showing of some skin he was having trouble pulling his gaze away as he flipped through the polaroid's he had to shift his body to relieve some of the tension.

He really liked the selfies of yourself the most, the way your tits seemed to be spilling out from the bra he liked so much and god, the look on your face with your hand out of the cameras view.

He knew what you were doing and he wished he could have been there to see it. Quickly brushing the blood from his nose he cleared out his throat.

"Well....what do you think?"

"Bedroom....now."

[sinning-23]

SIT, LIKE A CHAIR

Opla face sitting/p*ssy eating headcanons

Warnings: dude the title is warming enough lol. ITS 18+ BRO

Zoro

-Fuck around and hover if you want to. He’s already got his arms around your thighs, forcing you to sit.

-He’s got some kind of sorcery or some shit with his tongue cause what the fuck.

-oh you thought he was stopping after you came once? Hahahaha that’s so funny.

-makes sure you are shaking and fucking shivering when he’s done with you

-Will make sure you know how much he loves the way you taste.

-“That’s it honey, cum on my face.”

Usopp

-unfortunately doesn’t know what the FUCK he’s doing when he eats but is very very fucking skilled with his fingers.

-we all know this man’s nose is 5 mf stars and would be nice to sit on and he knows this fact.

-on the occasion that he asks you to sit on his face he’s putting everything to work, using one hand to simultaneously spread your cheeks and keep your things flush against him.

-the other is already coaxing another orgasm out of you while his tongue circle slow around your clit.

-doesn’t talk when his mouth is full, he’s got manners lol

On the rare occasion he does speak it’s often after all is said and done

-“now you can brag about being eaten out by a legendary captain”

Sanji

-oh he eats religiously. Like is that even a question?

-he gets really fucking sloppy too. He’s got your juices and his saliva down his chin and all over your thighs.

-sometimes it feels like the eating is more for him than you (sometimes it is lol)

-expect lots of worship when he’s positioned under you. He prefers to eat when you’re sitting on the edge of the counter or table and he’s kneeling down in front with your legs over his shoulders.

-“I’ve never tasted anything as divine as you. Tout va bien pour moi”

-Has definitely cum from eating you out alone

Nami

-Oh she’s fucking ruthless. I mean just so mean when she eats.

-She likes to draw loving circles on your thighs and then offset that sweetness with a pinch.

-She’ll make it seem like she’ll be nice and let you cum, only to stop completely, eyes laser focused on that adorable little frustrated knot between your brows.

-Is a bit of a shit talker honestly and between how well she works her fingers inside you, how good her tongue feels on your clit, and each teasing comment she throws your way, you’re left spiraling.

-“Ohhh how cute. You gonna cum on my face just like that? You can hold on a little longer can’t you honey?”

Shanks

-If you look closely you can see that his facial hair is slightly bleached.

-We know the fuck why.

-He makes sure you know just how much he loves your pussy when he eats. I mean yes he’s slow and damn near torturous with how he asked you be patient and wait but it’s so worth it.

-He kisses up your thigh, then over the top of your panties. Then will suck and lick over the fabric until it’s soaked.

-Once that’s done, he takes em off with his teeth and licks one long, slow stripe up before deciding to suck on your clit for just a second. Soon after he’s pulling your closer by your thighs and eating you for all your worth.

-He will not talk, well…only if it’s to get you to sit still, his eyes peering dangerously into yours.

- “Don’t. Move.” (its pretty mf hot)

-holds your hand when you finally cum on his tongue.

Buggy

-He the best eater I know- he gets down. He don’t play

-if eating was a sport he’d be the champion.

-Teats your pussy like a meal(because it is in his eyes) and makes sure nothing is left behind besides your own slick, his saliva, and your trembling thighs.

He really gets into it too. I mean he’s moaning against your folds, slurping and drooling.

-This mf is a multitasker. His hands are definitely detached and holding the back of your knees to keep you from closing your legs. and he is working yet another orgasm out of you.

-He's a talker btw so expect lots of witty and raunchy comments while you're practically convulsing from overstimulation.

-"No one makes you feel like how I do huh princess?"

-"That's it honey scream my name."

-“I could eat you forever.” He whines with his mouth full of you

Mihawk

-He's not likely to eat as much. He doesn't dislike it but would rather give to you in other ways. However, despite this little thing about himself, he makes sure it's for a reason when he eats.

-For example, had a bad day? There's a remedy for that, come sit.

-Feeling a bit insecure and self-conscious? Let him show just how amazing you really are.

-Expect to feel a lot of vibrations with how much he growls and moans into your cunt.

-Not too much of a talker but when he does it makes not only your pussy throb but your heart melt.

-"Look at yourself. So beautiful my love." (there's a mirror on the ceiling)

-He isn't afraid to kiss you when he's done either. Wants you to know just how good you taste and that every time he has the privilege of having you sit on his face its like heaven (his words more or less).

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Dissecting is just a hobby of his

barbie dolls: Rosekiller x you

word: 1.1k

summary: ppl spread rumors about you and your boyfriends and the skittles discuss it

warnings: pandora and evan are siblings, regulus goes fucking rabid for gossip he loves gossip, barty and evan are i wanna say raunchy but i also dont, they’re barty and evan ykwim? oh jesus my joints hurt, evan is into dissecting things, barty has a love hate realationship with chess, dorcas is fed up with her friends, skeeter mentioned, a tiny bit of making out and then insinuation that they leave to bang

You quite enjoyed cuddling with your boyfriends in the commonroom. Granted you mostly just cuddled with Evan seeing as Barty couldn’t sit still for longer than seven seconds. Evan had your legs pulled over his lap with his nose pressed to the side of your face. Regulus was nearby in an armchair, reading his newest book and muttering when it didn’t pan out the way he wanted. Barty was investigating his chess set. A week ago while you three were on a date Barty mentioned that he hates how chess looked and worked. It was an odd thing to say seeing as he spent a good portion of his time on the game. His complaints seemed to spark inspiration in himself because within minutes he was scribbling away on the back of his homework designing the “better chess”, his words. Barty kept flicking his wand at the board before turning back to his notes and writing something down. You didn’t see anything happening but you were confident in Barty to accomplish his chess dreams.

Eventually, Pandora and Dorcas came back from studying in the library. Dorcas huffed, flinging herself onto the commonroom couch and dropping her bag onto the floor. Pandora picked up Dorcas’ feet, settling on the couch with them in her lap. You frowned at Dorcas’ exhausted state. Pandora opened her magazine, holding it in front of her face.

“Did the books bite back?” Evan asked. Dorcas snapped her head to glare at him.

“I told you they do, you guys never listen to me. Oh, Barty’s off his rocker again, man fuck you guys.” Barty muttered, mocking Regulus’ voice. You gently knocked Barty with your knee in sympathy.

“I do not sound like that,” Regulus muttered, turning his page more aggressively than before. Barty glared at him. You diverted Barty’s attention back to you as you knocked your knee again.

“It’s okay baby, you have all the time in the world to get your chess game right.” Barty snarled at you, turning back to the board. Dorcas pointed at Evan, you imagined smoke coming out of her ears.

“You and your freaky little partners really need to stamp out the rumors circulating the school,” Dorcas said, huffing and flinging her head back onto the pillow. Pandora dropped her magazine down, meeting your eyes immediately.

“They are kinda getting out of hand. I’m hearing things about my kin that I don’t really want to hear.” Pandora added, grimacing at the memories. Evan groaned next to you, ducking his face behind your shoulder. Regulus hummed.

“I heard you three got caught with your pants down in the headmaster’s office.” Regulus set his book down the second he caught a whiff of gossip, leaning forward to drop his rumor.

“I heard we all detention for giving each other handies in the back of potions,” Barty muttered. You pointed at him.

“See people just talk, they’re going to make up crazy stuff so they can get a kick out of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if this had Skeeter all over it. They should take away her school newspaper privileges. “ Evan nodded against you.

“Though Barty did offer to give us handies in the back of divination.” Barty spun around at Evan mentioning his name. Pandora grimaced and turned her head away from the conversation. Dorcas sat up to pull her braids over one shoulder before settling back down.

“That is just nasty,” Dorcas muttered, smacking her lips like it left a sour taste in her mouth.

“They can’t even get their facts straight.” You whispered. Evan hummed, knocking his nose to your cheek in approval.

“I heard that Barty was drawing raunchy pictures of you both in the margins of his classwork,” Regulus said, an evil grin pinching at his cheeks. You turned to Barty. He was frozen like if he moved he’d get caught. His eyes flickered around as he waited for someone else to talk. You kicked Barty in the side, laughing your way through his name.

“You said you’d stop doing that,” Evan muttered under his breath, glaring at Barty.

“It's not like I turned them in. Sorry, I got bored in class and thought of my lovers. You guys suck ass.” Barty said, rolling his eyes and tossing his chess piece down.

“It's one thing to think of your lovers, it's another to think of them naked and draw it out,” Dorcas said, making Pandora stand up altogether. Pandora stalked out of the room without a goodbye, deciding the conversation was enough for her.

“They weren’t fully naked.” You and Evan both groaned at Barty’s response. Regulus cleared his throat.

“I also heard that people saw Evan sketching out the muscular system and when someone asked what he was drawing he said ‘my partners’ with zero context.” Evan nodded at Regulus.

“That one is actually true.” Evan clairfied.

“you drew my muscular system?” You asked. Evan nodded. You cooed and gently pecked Evan. “I'm flattered.”

“Because of that interaction, people also said Evan dissects you both,” Regulus added. You hummed.

“Well, I think he would if he could. If it didn’t kill us, he would.” Barty muttered, flinging himself back to rest against Evan’s legs. Evan dropped his hand to gently play with Barty’s hair.

“I do give you full permission to dissect me after I die though.” You said, turning to Evan. Evan’s jaw dropped open, staring at you with wide eyes.

“You mean it?” You nodded, smiling at him. Evan leaned forward. ”Love it when you talk dirty.” You grinned meeting Evan’s lips. He pulled you against him more, if it’s even possible.

“See and that’s why you bitches never my extra biscuits at dinner.” You heard Dorcas say. You ignored her, pushing our tongue past Evan’s lips. His breath hitched just enough for you to hear. You pushed back against him. Evan’s hand made it to your shirt, gripping the fabric roughly. You heard a sigh come from the floor. You slide one hand up to the back of Evan’s neck.

“Here I am, sitting here all alone and unkissed.” You pulled back at Barty’s voice. You looked down to see Barty staring up at you with his puppy eyes. You leaned down towards his face.

“Oh no fuck that. Go somewhere else right now or I'm hexing you all.” Dorcas said. You looked over at her to see her covering her eyes with both hands. You glanced at Regulus to find him `all the way across the commonroom, hiding behind his book. He peeked over the edge, shaking his head at you. You shrugged.

“Gladly.” You quickly reached out and took Barty by his hand. He stood up as fast as he could, tossing his wand onto his chess mess. You walked towards the stairs with Barty behind you. You glanced back to make sure Evan was following. Sure enough, Evan was right behind you. He smacked Barty’s ass on the way up the stairs, leaving you both in the dust. You quickly caught up, dragging Barty behind you, on the way to the dorms.

[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.

[tumbleweed-run]

To Distraction

(18+, Explicit)

Gale’s been busy the last tenday, to the point you’re wondering if he’s not bewitched. He’s spent most of his days and evening in his study face buried in some tome or another. When you’d asked him what caught his attention about two days into the obsession he’d tried to explain but had a fit of ‘idea’ mid explanation and wandered off. 

He’s not being unkind. You still get kisses when he wakes and whenever you wander into the room to see he’s at least eating and drinking. He still crawls into bed for a few hours every night and holds you close. He tells you he loves you when you walk in and out of rooms. He just isn’t present it seems. 

You love his focus and most of the time his drive to learn and understand all things magic. You understood this would happen, you’d seen it with the crown long before you’d ever set foot in Waterdeep. But you hadn’t realized just how much you’d miss him and his attentions. 

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit you also missed those attentions as well. 

In fact it’s been the entire tenday since the two of you were intimate. He barely sleeps as it is so propositioning him during the few hours your lying in bed together doesn’t seem the way to go. So you just haven’t been together in days. 

The idea sparks one morning as you’re perusing the shelves of his study while he’s completely lost within a book, the tea you brought him going cold on the desk. You find a book there. Not some archaic tome filled with the words of scholars but a rather modern little novel. A bawdy one at that. You surreptitiously slip it from the shelves and into your pocket. Though reasonably you probably could have told him you were taking it and he still wouldn’t have realized what you were doing. 

You spent much of the day reading Gale’s naughty little book of a lonely noblewoman and her black-hearted kidnapper turned seducer. It’s a raunchy book filled with explicit acts and does little to keep your mind from Gale. If anything, it makes the ache of missing him worse, well, it certainly makes the ache between your legs worse.

You’ve decided you’ve had enough. Gale is free to wrap himself up in whatever it is that’s caught his attention but not to the point he’s forgotten about you. 

That night you ignore your normal bedclothes in favor of a rather sheer nightgown. One better suited to a new bride on her wedding night. You’d felt silly buying it not long after moving to the city but it had been so lovely you couldn’t resist. Now you realize you’d given yourself an uncommon weapon against the loneliness you were feeling. 

When you slipped back into the study, Gale was writing something. He was surrounded by several candles to ward off the darkness of the evening, most of them close enough to pose a serious fire hazard to his clothes. 

“Good evening, my love,” He says, still focused on his desk. 

“Good evening,” you repeat, settling onto the little couch the two of you had dragged into the room.

Gale had wanted to make sure you could be comfortable in the room, give you a place to be when he was at the desk. It was a comfortable plush thing that was a dream to curl up on with a book or simply take a nap. More importantly, for tonight, Gale could see you from his desk. 

You rest back against the arm for a while, legs stretched out in front of you, watching him. No matter your apprehension about the sheer number of candles, the light did suit him unfairly. Then again you found most light suited him. 

You aren’t shy as you slowly begin dragging the hem of your nightgown up above your knees. Once it reaches your thighs you leave it rest, one hand continuing to trail upwards to your breast. You run a finger teasingly over a nipple coaxing it to hardness. 

Relaxing further back, you allow your head to rest on the arm of the sofa, no longer able to see Gale. Or see if Gale sees you. Even if he doesn’t right now, he will seen. 

You continue teasing your nipple, the hand on your thigh caressing gently. It’s not quite what you want. 

You want a much larger hand gently cupping your breast. You want its fingers, calloused from both weapons and quills, to be the ones gently pinching your nipple. Instead, it’s your smaller fingers making you gasp out loud as you do just that. 

Your other hand slowly makes its way up your thigh. You both do and don’t want to rush it, your toes curling into the soft cushion in agonizing anticipation. It feels a bit like torture to move so slowly but for every bit that this is for you it’s also for another reason. 

You close your eyes to resist lifting your head to see if he’s looking now. 

The thin fabric of your nightgown has been crumpled up to your waist. You draw up one knee and let the other fall open barely balanced on the sofa, baring yourself to the room. To him. 

You take a breath, trying to relax further. 

You slip a finger down in between your folds. You’re wet, you have been since finding that silly book. Or perhaps you have been for days because gods damnit why won't he touch you? Why has he somehow managed to ruin even touching yourself? 

Another breath. 

You imagine his hand, his fingers seeking out your clit to rub it in maddening little circles. 

You’re letting free shy little moans. The confidence you had in your plan is still there but its hard to undo a lifetime of modesty. 

It’s so easy to imagine it's him touching you while surrounded by so much of him. This room, even without Gale, would smell of him for years. 

You let your other hand drift to your ignored nipple. It’s already so hard that the fabric over your breast is pulled taut. You’re barely conscious of the whimper that is pulled from you when you flick your thumb across it. 

The fingers between your legs dip deeper, you press one inside of yourself. You can’t up but rock your hips into your hand, your one foot dropping to the floor to give you more room. You press your finger in as deep as the angle allows, moaning as the heel of your hand grinds into your clit. 

It’s the whisper of fabric against your leg that get you to open your eyes. 

Gale is standing above you. Eyes flicking between your hands as if he’s not really sure what he wants to watch the most. He’s looking at you with the same intensity with which you’ve seen him studying his books the last several days. 

Finally, finally, that beautiful brain is focused on you. 

He notices you watching him after a few moments. 

You boldly hold his gaze as you slip a second finger into yourself, the soft slick sounds brazenly announcing how wet you are. 

“Gale,” you whimper pinching your nipple.

He drops to his knees as if they’ve buckled out from under him at the sound of his name on your lips. You wince slightly for him. 

His gaze finally settles between your legs. He’s frozen that way for a second just watching you fuck yourself with your fingers. But then he reaches out and grabs your wrist, stilling your movements. 

“May I?” It’s more of a breath than a question. 

You consider being cruel and denying him his request but in the end it’s your own selfish desire for him that wins over. 

You slip your fingers out from between your thighs but before you can make any kind of decision Gale’s grip on your wrist guides them to his lips. 

Without hesitation and without shame he sucks them into his mouth. You both moan when he does. You can’t move, can’t think, as you watch him greedily clean the wetness from your fingers. 

Fuck, oh fuck.

You understand some things about men all of a sudden. 

He works on your fingers long enough that surely the only thing that could be left on them is his own saliva. Only then does he let you pull them from his mouth. 

He rests on hand on your knee and looks to you in silently pleading. As if there were any way you could possibly tell him no. 

You nod weakly. 

He positively dives into you with his mouth and the noise that comes out of yours is inhuman. 

He works on your clit with his tongue like a man starved. As if he’s decided the only thing that could possibly sustain him were your moans. He grabs your hips and drags you further towards him forcing your one leg to drape over his shoulder. 

You think you might die. 

You’re certain you will when he presses one of those fingers you were fantasizing about early into you. 

He’s near frenzied with how he fucks you with his mouth and fingers and yet no less skilled. 

Somehow in your fog you realize he’s moaning, his body rocking ever so slightly. And you realize, he’s touching himself as he devours you. 

It’s enough to push you over the edge. 

Your back bows and you can’t help but tangle your hands in his hair, drawing him even closer, grinding against his tongue and fingers as the waves of your climax take you. 

He stays there happily until you push him away, everything becoming too much all of a sudden. 

You’re panting as you reach for him and when you drag him to you, you find he is too. 

You kiss him until you no longer taste yourself. Until it’s just Gale on your tongue.

You reach down to grab him. Instead of finding him achingly hard he’s already beginning to soften. 

You pull back and raise an eyebrow. 

He clears his throat, a light pink color dusts his cheeks. “It’s ah, been a while,” he admits bashfully. 

“Who’s fault is that?” You meant it as a tease but the tone is just a touch to heavy for that. 

He has the decency to look properly chastised. You can see him mulling it over in his head before he abruptly stands tucking himself back into his pants. 

He nods. 

Then abruptly you’re lifted from the sofa. You squeak, arms flailing as you grab for his shoulders. 

“Allow me to properly make my amends,” he says searching your eyes. 

“I thought you just did?” You’re certain he did, even your imagination isn’t that good. 

Perhaps it's the way a candle flame catches in his eyes, or maybe it’s a flicker of mischief. “I believe I have several days to make amends for.”

[brabblesblog]

Sounds like a plan.

Drabble set right after act II’s confession scene. What if Tav didn’t feel quite alright with Astarion’s manipulation, and tried to just go along with it for his sake?

Angst with a happy ending. Also a tiny bit of Gale. Enjoy!

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

He starts to notice when you stop smiling at him.

Oh, you'd smirk and laugh when talking to him, but that wasn't it - you just didn't smile.

That one he'd craved so much to see, the one that made your eyes crinkle and your nose flare a little. That smile. He hadn't seen it since the night he confessed his feelings to you.

He’d worry about it more, if you two didn’t spend every waking moment together. If you didn’t move into his tent. Didn’t cuddle with him every night, and woke up tangled in his arms every dawn.

So he put it aside for now. Your relationship was a new and fragile thing, and he dared not risk it.

That is, until he noticed you smiling like that with Gale. Astarion had just been walking back to camp from a hunt, when he had heard your voice and Gale’s and had inadvertently began to eavesdrop.

You had been sitting by the campfire with the wizard, reading one of those raunchy romance novels Shadowheart had given you. The two of you were huddled close together, knees touching, chortling and snorting as you read the passages aloud.

“I don’t think elves have… appendages of that size,” Gale remarks after a particularly salacious line. “Would they?” He shoots you a particularly nasty smirk.

You laugh, all pretense thrown aside. “I haven’t seen enough elf cock to know,” you mumble. “Or any other type of cock, for that matter.”

Gale chuckles. “You’ve been sleeping with one, have you not?” There is a small note of sadness in Gale’s voice when he says this, and you note it. You had turned the wizard down for Astarion.

The laugh that was about to come out of you dies at Gale’s words. You remember sleeping with Astarion, remember how your relationship started, how-

You shake your head, trying to clear out those thoughts. You want to just have fun right now, not think about your complicated situation. Gale notices, and he closes the spicy book. He looks to you, those large eyes holding nothing but affection and concern for you.

“Is something the matter? Anything you need, I’ll be there,” he reminds. He may not be your partner, but he’s still one of your closest friends in camp.

“Actually.” You weigh your options. No one seemed to be here at camp, and so you decide to confide in your friend. “Yes. There.. there is a problem. With.. with Astarion and I.”

Astarion initially rolls his eyes as he hears this conversation. It’s just banter, and he doesn’t mind. What made him stay there and listen in for a moment was the sound of your laughter. It was so genuine and he had not heard it in what felt like forever. He felt a pang of jealousy that of all people, Gale had been the one to bring it out of you. As he prepared to go back to your shared tent, he finally heard you mention his name. He froze, immediately rooted to the spot by fear. He had to know what was wrong. He had to fix it before you left him.

Gale puts a comforting hand on your knee. “Then I will lend you my ears. I shall keep your confidence.”

“It’s- it’s hard to explain,” you begin, speaking gently. “Does it make sense if I say I understand why he would do something he did, but it hurts anyways?”

“More than you know,” Gale replies somberly. “You understand their reasons. Sympathize, even. But you can’t help how you feel.” He pauses, considering it. “Does he know?”

“No.” You shake your head, answering without hesitation. “I didn’t want to give him more things to worry about. He..”

He already has too many things on his plate, you figured, and your petty little issues are nothing compared to what he’s going through.

Gale nods. “And you didn’t want to burden him. I understand.” He clears his throat. “I’m not a good choice for advice regarding relationships, however- it’s common knowledge that hiding things from each other so early on is a portent for disaster. I hope you know that.”

“I know, Gale,” you say, your tone sharpening. Then you let out a sigh, forcing yourself to calm down. “I just don’t want to hurt him any more than he’s already been hurt. I can’t hate him for what he did to me, but I want to hate him for how much it hurts.”

Your voice breaks at the last moment, and you bury yourself in Gale’s shoulder. He wraps a comforting arm around you, letting you finally let out those feelings you’ve been bottling in.

“I thought,” you gasp, “that he’d finally be the one person to actually want me for me.”

Astarion, hidden in the periphery of the camp, sees and hears everything. He keeps silent, as his own heart rips at the sound of your sobbing. Of course. How could he have been so blind? How could he have just assumed you were okay with what he did? After his confession, you had said everything was okay, and he had taken it at face value.

Gods damned it, Astarion thinks. As the conversation dies and you gradually shift to just sobbing into Gale’s shoulder, Astarion slips away.

You head back to your shared tent and hour or so later, opening the flaps. To your surprise, your lover sits there. He snaps upwards the moment your face pokes in, as if he had been waiting for just that exact moment.

“You’re back early,” you say, slipping in and closing the flap behind you. You drop to your knees and crawl towards the bedroll beside him, exhausted.

“Caught a boar quite early on. I daresay I got a bit lucky,” is the reply, delivered in a tone that just sounded off to your ears. He moves to wrap an arm around you, pulling you close to him. “And you, darling? Catching up with the wizard?” He tries to go for nonchalant, and absolutely fails it.

You notice it then, the way he’s actually not even breathing. The way his chest is stiff as a board, the way his fingers tremble.

“Astarion,” you squeeze your eyes shut. “You heard.”

“Every word,” he says, a pained sigh escaping his lips. His arm stops pulling you close. You turn to face him, and you see his face, more pained than you have ever seen him before. When he had confessed, he looked frightened. This time he looked resigned. You watch him clench his jaw, preparing to say the words he knew he should say.

Astarion takes a small, sharp breath. He meets your gaze.

“I hurt you.” The statement is quiet, emotionless. “You shouldn’t have told me you were okay, darling. You should have let me know.” His jaw works again, and he struggles to say the next words.

“I’ve put your things in your pack. You can leave whenever you wish.”

He tries not to cry. Not to beg for you to stay. Because you deserve to go. You deserve real, and if you can’t be real with him, then he isn’t the one who deserves you. Swallowing, his hand caresses your cheek. “I am sorry.”

Sorry he can’t give you what you deserve. Sorry he hurt you. Sorry he was what he was.

You sit up. You try to see what he’s thinking, to see if this relationship still had anything to salvage. But here in the dark, it’s very hard to tell. You brace yourself; the thing missing here was communication, and you’ll be damned if you don’t try to do just that before it all blows up.

“Do you want this, Astarion? Us?”

A quick, quiet hiss of pain breaks the silence. His eyes brighten, filling up with tears. They don’t fall just yet.

“Yes. Gods, yes.”

Your own shoulders drop, and you exhale.

“Then I’m going nowhere. But I suppose we should talk about what you overheard.”

He exhales, relief flooding his features. The guardedness isn’t quite gone yet, however. He makes no move to close the gap. Instead he sits up, matching your position.

“What else is there to say? I manipulated you. You felt a lot less gracious about it than you originally thought. Seems about the sum of it, no?”

There is a little defensiveness there. As if he’s already building walls in the event of your departure.

“Somewhat, but not quite.” You clear your throat. “I don’t blame you. I’m not upset at you. Or resentful. Or whatever else you think I am. Before anything else, I want you to know that.”

His eyes widen, surprised. He had overheard the conversation; he should have known this. But hearing it so directly said was different. You can see his shoulders sag as the tension leaves his body, as that terrible knot in his heart starts to loosen. He nods, acknowledging your statement and an encouragement to continue.

“I’m just hurt.” That was the root of all of it, really. “I’m hurt, but I didn’t want you to know. You already suffer so much, that it felt…” you trail off, trying to find the words.

“Frivolous, darling?” He suggests. As you nod he continues. “Just because I’m going through things doesn’t mean there’s no space… for your feelings,” he begins tentatively. He takes one more small breath, then reaches across to take your hand, just like he did that night he confessed.

“I’ve spent two hundred years carrying my own burdens. You have shared my load. Please. Let me lighten yours too.”

You scan his face, on instinct, trying to see any signs of insincerity. There is none. His eyes are round and open, and his hand remains on yours, palm up, an invitation for you to come to him.

You choke back tears, leaning forward to touch your foreheads together. “It’s just that I wished you were.. that we started differently. That you wanted me..”

“For you,” he says, repeating what you said to Gale. “I know. And I might not have, at the start. I might have seen you as a means to an end.”

He gathers his courage and moves to wrap his arms around you. “But now I do,” he whispers against your ear. “I want you for you.”

You melt into his arms then, moulding yourself to his torso as you cry yet again. But unlike your tears when talking to Gale, this feels like relief. Like home.

He shushes you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You said you aren’t upset at all. But you can. We can..” he thinks for a moment, then proceeds. “We can take some time apart, if that’s what you want. We can take a step back and see if we can end up back here again.”

Saying that felt like torture for him. But he knew it needed to be said. You needed to have that option.

You shake your head. “No. I’m- I would very much rather be in this, whatever this is,” you say with a teary laugh. “But you’re right. I think I’ll still need some time to go through it and accept everything.”

“Just don’t forget, Astarion. It’s not your fault. It’s not,” you say vehemently. “I’m just hurt, but I’m not holding you responsible.”

He wants to protest, but knows better than to. Instead he nods. Carefully he cups your face in his hands, and you shiver as his cool palms make contact with your wet cheeks.

He kisses the tears away, each kiss a soft, feather-light brush against your skin.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. For your kindness. For your forgiveness and grace. For your love, although he couldn’t even use that word yet, even to himself. For the gift of yourself, always so generously given, from the very start.

He wishes he could someday live up to your love. That he would be worth everything you give him. He tries to voice this out.

“If you’re staying, then… it gives me a challenge, mm?” He tries to smile. “I’ll try to be worth the trouble. But no promises, darling.”

You huff out a laugh. This beautiful, strong, insufferable man. How could he think he wasn’t worth it to you? But you understood. You felt the same way.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you say. “As for me, well. I don’t imagine I’ll ever be worth all that, either.”

“Then we’ll be worthless together,” he says without missing a beat. If you only knew how special he thought you were. How worthy. How you make him want to be better.

He presses his lips to yours, finally. Sealing your words together. A promise for you two to share each other’s burdens. Together.

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Construction Dog Co.

Each one of these dumb brutes belongs to me! They once had their own lives and careers, but I replaced all that with the blind obedience of a dog. My words dictate their reality, so they'll believe anything I say. That's why it seems perfectly normal for them to wait like this every morning. They'd kneel there all day if I let them, but they need to work eventually!

"Get off your knees, dogs! Hop to work! It's the only thing you're good for!" I yell it with venom, but I relish seeing my words soaking in into their minds. With just a simple command, I've convinced them all that they are animals, good only for hard work and manual labor.

The men rush to their feet, scrambling to pick up where they'd left off yesterday. I don't bother understanding the minor details of their day to day responsibilities. I have different boys programmed to manage all that crap for me. I really only bother watching them sweat their days away.

Being the supervisor can get a bit boring, especially after hearing, "Thank you, boss. I love you, boss," for like the seventh time in a day. It kind of loses it's meaning after awhile.

That's why I often use them for entertainment. Watch this!

"Hey, you two!" I call, pointing at two sweaty workers nearby, "You're in love with each other. Make out!"

Despite being hot and exhausted, the two men drop their tools and perk up. When they meet each other's eyes it's like they're seeing one another for the first time. They practically slam their bodies together in a race to each other's throat, and within seconds the two guys are lost in a world of dirt, saliva, and lust.

I do this with my men often, but who could blame me! I handpicked each one of them because they were strong and hot. If they're going to be hypnotized work slaves, then I need to enjoy how they look.

"You too aren't doing anything else but each other for the rest of the day," I command with a laugh, "Got it?"

"Yes, sir," their replies are moaned out between breaths.

A lot of my laborers were straight before they met me, but these two were creeps about it. I think I found them at the gym, hitting on girls between every set. I obviously enjoyed erasing their raunchy personalities. I find it even more enjoyable watching them grope and slobber over each other, knowing that those bodies would've never done that before I came along.

Those jagoffs are just the beginning of my day! I leave them after they've tumbled to the ground, humping each other like the dumb animals they are.

"You there!" I point to a different guy, quietly stacking blocks nearby, "Get over here and clean the floor as I walk. These Timberlands are brand new and I don't want mud on them."

"Yes, sir," the worker answers and rushes over, throwing himself to the ground before me.

I chuckle and study the poor loser in front of me. With just a few short words, I have him scrubbing a place for me to walk like I'm his king. I scoff in disbelief when I finally recognize who the guy was.

"Wait, are you that jerk from the bank?"

"Yes, sir," he admits quietly, keeping his head lowered towards his work.

"Well shit, you've come a long way! Can you believe that a week ago you were some fancy banker who tried to deny me a loan?" I give his head a little nudge with the toe of my shoe, "This is a much better place for you...uh... Robert...or was it Roger?"

"Reggie, sir," he quickly corrects me.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore," I scowl at him, "Forget your name. You're just a construction dog, now. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who are you?"

"I'm...I'm just a construction dog." I can tell he believes it now, too. I'm probably the only one here that knows his real name, and I'll definitely forget it within a few days.

"Good boy," I pat him on the head, "Now, you're going to stay ahead of me and keep clearing the floor for me to walk."

Reggie mumbles "Yes, sir," and crawls forward to scrub away the dirt in my immediate vicinity. Continuing on my tour, the poor guy struggles to keep up on all-fours, but a good work animal must get used to that position.

By the end of the day, my entire pack of men is sweaty and exhausted. I usually make them all work the maximum shift with no breaks, so it makes sense for them to be tired. Still, they are programmed to come and kneel before me, waiting to be dismissed. They're all a bit antsy for a rest, but I like to test their patience.

"Alright, boys. You're dismissed for the night."

With a collective groan, they climb back to their feet, marching off to the bunk house.

The bunk house is where I keep them when they aren't working. It might seem tight but each guy has enough room to sleep; although, I make them share because I don't want to purchase anymore bunk spaces. I don't really like to spend any money on them. They have access to the porta-john out back, but otherwise they aren't allowed to go anywhere else. I also only gave them the clothes they work in, so they sleep in them too.

Needless to say, it stinks in there. Between the heat, body odor, unwashed clothes, and lack of showers, they've created quite the stench. I avoid their home as much as I can, but sometimes my curiosity gets the best of me. This is the first time I've seen it in weeks.

"Come on boys, don't look so glum!" I chastise them, "Smile! Act like you're happy to see me!"

I watch as a switch goes in each of their minds. Slowly, they snap out of their foggy eyed depression, and light up. The energy of the room transforms as reassuring smiles spread across each of their manly faces.

"That's better! You boys are a tight-knit team! You love each other!" I add, "You don't mind the back-breaking work, or the smell, or anything as long as you're together."

The men become even more at ease, relaxing into the arms of their coworkers. My heart is warmed a little, seeing them getting along with each other so well. They're acting like energetic little puppies now.

I'm ready to leave them for the night. It's time for me to return to my luxury condo down the street, but before I do, I catch sight of one of my workers. An idea springs into my head.

"You, there. Come with me."

"Yes, sir," he answers, though he seems genuinely disappointed to be leaving his buddies.

I lead him outside and hose him off to remove at least some of the mud and sweat. We walk all the way to my apartment. Luckily, he's mostly dry by then so I take him inside.

"Is this going to take awhile, sir?" he asks nervously, "I'm pretty tired and my bedmate is going to sleep soon."

"Shut up and get on the bed," I command.

His mouth snaps shut and he obediently approaches my soft king bed, crawling onto it like I told him to. I sigh when I notice that the stupid oaf still tracked a lot of mud in. I'll have to make him clean it all up later.

"Now, you aren't going to speak or move unless I tell you too," I instruct, "But you will realize that anything I do will be exactly what you want: no matter what I do..."

He gazes back at me numbly.

"Tell me you understand."

"I understand, sir," he instantly repeats.

Tonight is going to be a long night for him. Too bad he still has to wake up early and report to work. I'm already planning on sleeping in. I don't mind keeping my workers waiting for a few hours while I rest. It's my company after all, and they're just dogs for labor...

[bloodlust-1]

Might I make a request for subby Gortash? I want that man on his knees, begging.

-@thewildrover

To answer this, hell yes. Im here for it give me all that freaky mean shit. Let's get into iiitttt!!!

hope you like it @thewildrover !

On His Knees

Gortash x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

Summary: After waking up to find himself bound on his knees, Gortash realizes he is at the mercy of Tav's wrath. However, her anger quickly transforms into seduction as she manipulates him with her charms. Left with nothing but his desire to please her, Gortash is determined to make her his by any means necessary.

T/W: smut! Blood, abuse

Notes: This is a little raunchy so if that's what you're into then by all means ;p he’s subby for the first half

Gortash eyes fluttered open, and he groaned to the throbbing headache and aching joints. He was on his knees, hands and feet bound to a pillar in the center of a dimly lit room.

How the fuck did I get here?

Confused and disoriented, Gortash tried to recall how he got there. The last thing he remembered was the way the alcohol burned his throat at the tavern earlier that day. He must've blacked out.

footsteps echoed around him, and when the figure came closer, Gortash's heart skipped a beat. It was a woman, and a beautiful one at that. She had long dark hair, smooth curves, and a stern expression on her face.

Tav, stood over him, with her eyebrows furrowed. Interesting, he thought she sided with Orin.

"Why am I tied up like this?" Gortash demanded, trying to sound confident and unfazed.

"You are a despicable excuse for a human being, Gortash," Tav spat, her voice filled with disgust. "You have caused so much pain and suffering, and now it's time for you to pay for your crimes."

Gortash couldn't help but laugh at Tav's words. He had always been attracted to strong, powerful women, and Tav was no exception. Seeing her standing there, with her hands on her hips, only made him more excited.

"Is that so?" he teased, dripping with sarcasm. "And what punishment do you have in mind for me, my dear Tav? Are you going to beat me to a pulp?"

Tav rolled her eyes and shook her head. Gods he is such a fucking scoundrel.

"You think this is funny? You think it's amusing to mock me?" Tav snapped, her voice trembling with frustration.

Gortash's laugh died down and a grin tugged at his lips. He continued to ridicule Tav between chuckles. Gortash couldn't help himself. The more she scolded him, the more turned-on he became.

Tav walked towards Gortash, and gripped a handful of his hair, "I heard your plans to get rid of me. How dare you ever try to lay a hand on me and my friends," she said, her voice low and menacing.

Gortash's heart raced as Tav leaned in closer, her face just inches away from his. He could feel her breath on his skin, and it sent shivers down his spine.

Tav clenched her fists and threw a punch at his face, and she continued to mercilessly beat him. Blood streamed down his face, mixing with the sweat that dripped from his forehead.

Gortash could just groan as her fists connected to his face.

Gortash licked his lips and smiled up at Tav. There was a seductive glint in his eyes, a look that sent shivers down Tav's spine. Tav pulled back her raw bloodied fists as she studied his face.

Was he enjoying this?

And there it was, the bulge in his pants.

The frown, the passion in her voice, her eyes, and fuck why did this turn him on so much. Gortash didn't expect Tav to be so beautifully enraged.

Tav smirked, he was just another pathetic sex-driven man. Of course, he's attracted to her, and she decided to use it to her advantage.

"Perhaps I should teach you a lesson in a different way," she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear.

Gortash's heart skipped a beat as Tav's words sent a wave of desire through him. The bulge in his pants twitched in anticipation.

As Tav pulled away, Gortash grinned. He had always been a troublemaker, and it seemed like he had finally found someone who could bring up his cock.

"Do your worst, pussy," Gortash scoffed threw the slick of blood that streamed down his face. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Without warning, she lunged forward and pressed her lips against his, tasting the metallic tang of blood mixed with alcohol. Gortash responded eagerly, his hands straining against the ropes that bound him. The sudden ache between her thighs and the thrill of it all clouded her better judgment.

Tav pulled away from the kiss with a sharp gasp, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She looked down at Gortash, his tired eyes pierced her own. Tav stepped back and circled around him, her hands running over the ropes that bound him.

"I saw your lingering look," Tav's voice echoed off the stone walls. "The longing in your eyes the day we met." Tav paused, her gaze fixed on Gortash's face. She could see the confusion and desire in his eyes as he struggled against the ropes.

His skin started to become raw from his constant tugging.

Tav then put her foot on his shoulder and pushed, forcing Gortash's back to press against the hard pillar. He winced in pain, but his eyes never left Tav's.

"I know you want me," Tav continued, her voice dripping with seduction. "But I also know that you're not the kind of man who gives in easily." She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. "And that's what makes this oh-so painful for you."

Gortash's eyes widened in realization as Tav stepped back, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She began to slowly unbutton her shirt, revealing more and more of her smooth skin with each button. Gortash's eyes followed every move, his heart racing with frustration.

"Fuck, show me more..." He whispered threateningly under her watch. “I want to ruin you.”

"You see, Gortash," Tav said, her voice low and sultry. "I have a proposition for you." She leaned in close once again, her lips just inches away from his. "If you can escape from these ropes," Her finger trailed along the rope that bound him. "Then I'll give myself to you willingly."

He struggled against the ropes. Tav's words were like a challenge, and he was determined to prove himself worthy. But the constant pulling only damaged his skin more.

"Well isn't this just unfair circumstances for me. I respect that." Gortash huffed out in annoyance. No way could he unbound himself but how could he be mad at her? Dirty games were his forte.

Her shirt was just barely showing her bare chest.

"You're just begging me to fuck you." Gortash scoffed with hearts practically in his eyes. “Please just — fuck. Let me loose.”

Tav had already stepped back, a playful smile on her face. "Looks like you'll have to try harder," she teased, tossing a small pocket knife at his knees, "You'll manage to get yourself out of this mess." She finally turned to walk away.

"Tav?"

Her footsteps echoed away and Gortash kept calling out Tav's name even adding in a 'Please'. Which was something he never did.

Gortash could only watch in frustration as Tav disappeared into the darkness, leaving him tied up. But a smile spread across his face and he realized that this was just the beginning of this dangerous and thrilling game.

~

Tav was out and about in town on her own. She wanted to shop for new clothes until she felt someone's hand wrap around her mouth. She was pulled into an ally and the Steel Watchers conveniently guarded the entrance, blocking anyone in.

She struggled against her attacker, but his grip was too powerful.

To her surprise, it was Gortash, pinning her body against the ally's brick wall.

Gortash's arms wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her in place.

"You play quite the game, my dear," Gortash said, his breath hot against her neck. "And I finally have you now."

"Took you long enough, Lord Gortash." Tav mocked his name with a chuckle. Her heart raced under his hold but the excitement of challenging him was too fun.

Before she could say anything, Gortash's lips were on hers, kissing her roughly. His grip on her was strong and commanding. As he deepened the kiss, his hands roamed over Tav's body, sending shivers down her spine.

"You're mine now," Gortash growled against her lips. Tav's heart skipped a beat at his possessive words. She couldn't deny how sexy she found him in that low-cut shirt. His hands gripped her tits and ass.

Suddenly, Gortash's lips left hers and he moved down to her neck, kissing and biting her skin. Tav winced at the sharp pain, but couldn't deny moaning in pleasure. Fear and excitement coursed through her veins while Gortash continued to bruise her neck with his bites.

"You like that, don't you?" Gortash asked, his voice low and seductive. Tav could only nod in response, unable to form words as Gortash's lips and teeth continued to leave their mark on her.

Tav knew the consequences fucking Gortash but she couldn't escape his touch now. Not when she replayed their last encounter over In her head. It was so hard walking away from him that day and not fuck him.

Gortash was in Tav's head and she was in his.

Gortash reached down and unbuckled his belt, the sound of the metal clinking echoing in the ally. Tav's heart pounded in her chest and she watched him pull down his pants, revealing his thick, muscular thighs and large, erect cock.

Immediately Tav's face grew hot with intimidation by Gortash's size. Her mouth practically watered from the way it twitched every time he touched her.

Gortash turned to Tav and roughly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer to him. He tugged down her pants, exposing her bare skin in such a public place. Tav could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but she wanted this as much as he did.

Without any warning or preparation, Gortash placed his tip on the entrance of Tav's core. He pushed himself into Tav, causing her to wince in pain. She could feel his girth stretching her, and she could barely contain a whimper.

"God, you're so tight," Gortash growled.

Gortash didn't care about Tav's discomfort. He grabbed her hips, pushed her back against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

With a firm grip, Gortash began to thrust into her with a force that made her head spin. Tav could feel the roughness of his skin against hers, and she moaned out as her arms wrapped around his neck.

Tav felt herself getting lost in his forceful pumps. Gortash's rough thrusts sent waves of pleasure through her body, and she surrendered to it.

"You're mine now, Tav. Mine to do whatever I want with." He snarled, his grip on her hips tightening.

"N-nghh, fuck - y-yes-" Tav hazily agreed, completely lost in the way he pumped in and out of her.

Fuck why was she even agreeing with him?

Gortash's movements became more and more forceful, and Tav could feel herself getting closer to the edge. Just as Tav let out a breathy yelp, his lips muffled over hers.

He snaked his tongue into her mouth and tasted every inch of her tongue in desperation. Their mouths harshly clashed with each other in a messy kiss.

Gortash groaned in pleasure, and she knew he was reaching his climax from the heat that exuded off his cock inside her.

With one final thrust, Gortash released himself inside of Tav, and she could feel the warmth of his seed filling her.

Tav collapsed onto his shoulders, breathing heavily as Gortash pulled out of her.

Tav held onto his body, exhausted and satisfied, and he slowly brought her down to her feet. His skin was dampened with their mixed sweat.

He leaned down and placed a rough kiss on Tav's forehead before whispering, "You are spared for now, but I expect you to come visit me at the palace."

Tav felt both terrified and excited for what was to come.

Any Thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

I want him so bad.

[ahoycaptainautumn]

Fated Mates Part 6

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

In your travels towards a hopeful cure at the Selunite Temple you come across a small village of travelers. With a psychic nearly giving away Astarion's biggest secret you find company elsewhere. Astarion does not approve, to say the least.

Astarion whips the openings of his tent open as he trudges inside. This was not good. Not good at all. He could nearly laugh at himself for believing for one moment he had any power over this bond. That there was even a  possibility of controlling you through it. It felt as if it controlled him more than anything else. He stomps over to his chest and digs through to find the mating book he had found in the last town's library. He flips forward to the section on vampiric mates. He obsessively reads over and over again. There has to be a way to break this incessant bond. To end this crushing weight of it inside his chest. He couldn’t take it. The vulnerability to love and be loved. No one could love a monster like him. Nor should they be forced to. 

You on the other hand are oblivious to Astarions plight. You spend the rest of your time checking in on all your teammates and packing up camp. It would be a few days before getting to the temple. According to the map you “borrowed” from a drunken traveler, there was a town in between where you needed to go. You met with each companion to let them know your plan and direction you were going. The only one not outside was Astarion. You grumble your discontent and make way to his tent. Astarions pointed ears perk up at the all too familiar sound of your boots hitting the ground. He panics, not wanting you to even get a hint with the very obvious book he was reading. Whipping his head back and forth he notices the raunchy romance novel he had snagged from someone at the tavern. He quickly replaces that book's sleeve on top of the cover of the mating book. Thankfully he does so just in time for you to appear at his tent's opening. You push back the flaps and peer inside. He gives you a cheeky smile and waves. 

“Just catching up on some reading, are we?” You ask. Your eyes finally fall onto the cover of the book. A shirtless man embracing a frail woman with his tongue knee deep in her mouth. You make a gag noise as you shrivel your nose in disgust.

“Oh you know, I have to study even on the road.” Astarion jokes. You stick your tongue out at him. 

“Vile.” You fake gag. He quips an eyebrow up at you. 

“You didn’t seem to think so.” His words come out as sweet as honey. It’s too easy to play with you, to tease you. Your whole body turns red and you swear you might just jump out of your skin in embarrassment. You shake your head as if to rid the words from the air. 

“I- well- we are leaving in two minutes blood sucker!” You divert your gaze away from him and practically run over yourself away from him. You mutter something along the way about hating him. He can’t help but chuckle at your embarrassed state. He throws his head into his hands and groans. Yes this really, really, wasn’t good at all. 

-

Besides stopping for one meal and a few bathroom breaks you are still about a days way from the next town. You had been following the path forward as you noticed more and more travelers coming and going. As you all get closer towards town you come upon what seems to be a small village. Hundreds of tents propped up in a large and lush valley. The smells of a market wafts towards your company. Cheer and merriment with the dancing sounds of music can be heard above all else. It is nearly nightfall and you don’t see the harm in checking it out. Though you get more than a few grumbles from Lae’zel and Astarion. You ignore them and lead the way into the heart of the tents. Calling it a small village was just about exactly what it was. Hordes of people all coming and going from tents and impromptu shops. There’s an alley just of multicolored canopies holding food stands. Meat hangs from sturdy clothing lines and fruits overflowing in barrels. The intoxicating smell of roasting pig flows from a large fire nearby. Other sites have signs enticing people to buy jewels or tarot readings. Your stomach grumbles and with a look you can tell everyone is thinking the same. 

“We will spend the night here and round back up in the morning and set off first thing.” you tell the others. Everyone nods wildly, already eyeing different stands to venture off to. Some go in pairs while others wander off on their lonesome. You were just about to do the same before Astarion came to your side. You give him an exasperated face. He only gives a brazen smile in return. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, folding your arms in front of you. You lean on one leg and raise an eyebrow. You were hoping to find a nice hot meal and quiet. The latter not happening with Astarion around. 

“Oh come on, you could use the company. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be eating anything here. Unless you’d rather me find some delectable company.'' His toothy grin only emphasizes what he would like to be doing with those canines. A weird pang hits you and you shake your head. 

“I do not need another angry mob, especially because one of my companions ate somebody.” you sigh. His eyes perk up at your words.

“Companions are we?” he stoops at the waist to look you in the eyes with his grin still locked in place. You bristle, tripping over your words. 

“Companions only in travel , I absolutely assure you.” you bite back. He only laughs at your scowl and equally sour words. 

“And here I thought we were mortal enemies. Seems I’ve made progress already.” He laughs. You point a finger into his chest and seethe your next words from between your teeth.

“Dream on blood sucker. Now let’s get going, I want some food.” You retract your hand and walk forward without a glance to see if Astarion is following. He quickly adjusts and follows behind you. He tells himself he doesn’t want to be in your company. If the universe hadn’t given him a chance mate he would of been spending this time either drinking or fucking, or better, both. But there was a gnawing feeling at the thought of you not being near him. Without you in his line of vision how was he to know you were okay? That you hadn’t gotten yourself into some mess? Or worse, courting with some random person in one of these tents. He can’t help the way that thought makes his anger flare. His teeth grind on each other and his hands ball into fists. Stupid mate instincts. Just as he has that thought a drunken patron from one of the bar tents nearly stumbles into you. You are too transfixed looking between meal stalls to notice. Astarion’s hand snakes around your hips and pulls your hip to his. You stumble into his side just as the man falls over on himself next to you. Your eyes follow the man now scrambling on the ground to Astarion’s death glare he gives him. His nails dig into your hip as he squeezes you in close. Your hand comes up to his chest to balance yourself. Astarion’s glare nearly stabs daggers into the man's eyes. The man gets one look at Astarion’s flaming rage evident in his face and body language and he clambers up. He just barely gets an apology out before Astarions voice overpowers his. 

“Watch where you are going imbecile.” Astarions voice is glacier cool and it has the man running as if for his life. You swat at Astarion which breaks the spell of anger that was only climbing inside of him. He looks to you and finds you giggling. 

“Astarion! It really was not that big of a deal! I can handle some drunken fool.”  

“Well someone has to protect our leader.” Astarion jokes.

“I fended you off quite well in our original meeting now didn’t I?” you shake yourself out of Astarions rock solid hold and tug his hand forward. “Come, I’m practically starving.” Astarion shakes as if ridding himself of a clinging sensation of emotion. He hadn’t even thought before grabbing onto you. Of the drunk getting his filth all over you. Something about it riled him up more than he would've ever thought. The bond inside him tugged for attention, begging for Astarion to heed its gift. He swallowed that feeling down and weaved through the stalls alongside you. You finally stop inside a stall and grab a plate of food and ale from a vendor. There’s a large picnic area filled with tables and chairs off to the side with a band just beginning to tune up for a performance. You find a small empty table and sit down to enjoy your food. Astarion sits across from you and props his head on his hand in boredom. He people watches a bit before you cut into his thinking. 

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask in between mouthfuls. His head snaps back to you and gives you a quizzical look. You make a gesture down to your nearly finished food. 

“Oh, uh no. Well, it’s not like I can even remember it truthfully.” he responds. 

“What do you mean, how long has it been since you were, you know, not what you are.” you ask. He nearly laughs at the hoops you jump through to avoid the word vampire.

“Darling it's been nearly two centuries since I’ve been turned.” he replies. Ale nearly flies from your mouth in surprise. You gulp down what you can and cough before you wipe your mouth. 

“You’re over two hundred years old?” you asked incredulously. 

“I know, I look barely a day over 30.” he smiles, swiping nonexistent lint from his shoulders, all bravado. 

“More like I can’t believe I kissed such a geriatric man.” you tease. Astarion flares at your words.

“G- Geriatric! Geriatric! I assure you I don’t fuck like a-” your laugh cuts him off. 

“You’re so easy to get riled up!” you belly laugh before you finish your ale. He mumbles some insult or another as he pouts. You stand from your seat and cock your head at Astarion. “Are you going to continue to follow me or are you going to sit and pout about being old?” you ask. He pushes off the table and stands to follow you. You get lost back into the crowd and look through the different merchants. As you eye through weaponry and treasures you walk past a tall tabaxi woman. She stands in front of her tent with a sign labeled “Psychic Readings - 10 pence”. She's dressed in embellished azure robes with several silver necklaces looped around her neck. She waves at the both of you. 

“My my, the oracle has much to say about your future.” she entices. Your eyebrow perks up but Astarion only tries to steer you away with a very obvious annoyed face. 

“Tricksters, the lot of them.” he explains. 

“Tricky is what you have swimming around in that brain of yours.” she responds nonchalantly as she turns into her tent. You give Astarion a stunned look and make to follow her. 

“There’s no way a trickster knows that! Come on, let’s just see.” you pull Astarion along with you. Though he doesn’t know how she could know about the tadpoles he still holds the thought of her being nothing but a con man. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the hustle, just that it won’t work on someone who once conned just as much. Astarion plops into a plush chair next to you. The tabaxi woman sits on the other side of the table with a cloudy orb sitting between you all. The tent is filled with a large prayer stand to a goddess neither of you are familiar with. Idols and offerings line the counters and tables around the circle of candles set up in the goddesses name. Golden candelabras line any other open space with oriental rugs covering the inside completely. The psychic places her hand upon the orb and swirls her palms around it till murky clouds appear from within. 

“Now, both of you place your palms upon the crystal ball. The oracle will grace me with a vision.” she explains. You immediately clip in.

“Can she tell us about the tadpoles?” you ask feverishly. The tabaxi woman only shakes her head. 

“I do not control the subject of the vision, I am only a voice for the beyond.” she explains. Astarion throws up his hands in irritation with a scowl on his lips. 

“Then what good is this? A waste of time!” he frowns. He crosses his arms in front of him, ready to leave. You pat his thigh to make him look at you  and try to give a reassuring smile.

“It’s worth a shot, right? Besides, what else can it tell us besides you being older than 200?” you joke. His irritation from the woman gets redirected at you. 

“I should've never told you that! Fine, we can do the weird mystical orb then.” He looks away from you and throws his hand onto the ball impatiently. You place your hand partially on top of his and look to the psychic for a sign. The slits of her eyes get replaced with bright white, taking over her entire eyes. Her paws face upwards on the table and you notice the scripture tattooed onto them begins to hum in equally bright light. The candelabras flames shake as a wind rushes into the tent and wraps around you all. You can feel in your bones the power sweeping over the tabaxi before she even speaks. 

“What is ancient can not be broken. What is meant, will be. Love is slow but it is strong. What begins as hate will blossom to the heart. One for another. A solution and a curse.” her voice is otherworldly, coming from somewhere far and primitive. A cold shiver wracks your body and your voice shakes.

“What- what does that mean?” you can barely get out. Her white orbs look over to you. 

“Feelings can be denied but I see you, and he will too.” she responds before the wind dies from inside the tent. The candles go back to their full strength and her eyes return to the green cat-like that they were previous. Your whole body stills as your mind goes over and over what she says. Maybe, sure you thought Astarion was physically attractive. That much is obvious to anyone with a brain. And maybe you enjoyed the banter you two had. And yeah maybe you felt a terror grip you seeing his injuries the other day. And maybe, just maybe, there was a small part of you that felt ravished by his touch. By the electricity and pure passion that welled deep in your body at his bite. And how you wanted it again. You look over to Astarion to check his reaction and immediately wish you hadn’t. His face is of revulsion. His nose is scrunched with his eyebrows furrowed. He looks over at you and you can barely breathe. He looks nothing short of nauseated. You slam your hands down as you break from your seat. The ornate chair goes flying behind you at your actions. Your face is hot with shame and you can feel wet tears welling up in your eyes. You throw the 10 pence down on the table and make haste in getting far far away from the psychic and Astarion. You can’t believe that for even a second he would have another reaction. You felt stupid, and a little heart broken if not also confused at your foreign feelings. 

On the other hand Astarion had heard the woman's words and felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped onto him. Here he was trying to get information on the tadpoles and the bloody woman had just given away his biggest secret to the exact person he didn’t want to hear it. Astarion has to hold back a snarl at the woman. His anger and disgust with the woman coming to him fast. He holds a breath he knows he doesn’t need and finally faces your stare. You look like a fawn caught by a wolf. Your whole body shivers and your eyes are blown wide. You bite your lip and look as if you are about to leap from your seat if he were to make a move. He had never seen you so.. Scared. He is about to say something, about how ridiculous this all was and how this woman must be a lunatic before you leap up and out of the tent. Astarion barely has time to turn his head before you're out the door and rounding a corner. He doesn’t bother wasting the time to lash out at the woman and tries to follow after you. But he immediately loses you. His heart clamps down around itself and a shot of fear races up his spine. Where in the hells were you? Where was his mate?

-

Sloshing amber liquid dribbles down your chin as you finish another round of ambrosia. You had run as fast as your feet could carry you until you were sure Astarion would not be able to follow you. You needed to be anywhere else. Your mind needed to be anywhere else. You found a liquor stall and helped yourself to a spot. The orc bartender drying a glass came to you and asked what he could do for you. 

“What do you have for someone needing to forget someone?” you ask solemnly. The orc had only given a slight chuckle before reaching deep into a locked chest behind the counter. He brings a glass and the large bottle to you. 

“Ambrosia. ‘Pose to be blessed with a crave beyond the bottle. You’ll have someone else to forget with that.” he offers to you with a wink. You had greedily poured yourself a glass and now found yourself nearly finishing the bottle. Your vision blurs and doubles. The liquor warms your being and turns your brain to mush. Your limbs feel loose and free and all you can do is smile and laugh at nothing. You’ve never felt so good. So free. Like you could dance the night away. Just as you finish off the bottle and pay the kind orc you hear the strumming of a band. Your ears perk up at the sound and you follow it. You want nothing more than to dance. To forget that stupid handsome vampire and dance with someone half as pretty and forget. As if your thoughts bring truth the picnic area had now been turned into a dance floor. Carpets and furs are thrown haphazardly on the ground creating a space for dancing. The speed of the music is hot and fast. People of all kinds dance and grind against each other as magical lights in varied colors twinkle on strings above you. It creates a vision of neon lights strobing over the swaying bodies. You rush to meet them and enter into this haven. You make your way onto the floor and lose any inhibition you still had left. Your hips twirl as you run your hands over your body and hair. Gods you’ve never felt so so very good. You sway and dance in time to the music. A man's body comes pressed to the back of yours. Your hands fly up and back to grab onto his neck and shoulder. You turn your face to look over at him. A dark haired elf smiles down at you with twinkling green eyes. Handsome, not as much as Astarion, but he would do. You give a seductive smile and grind against him. His hands fly down to grip your hips as he moves with you. Your head finds a home into the nape of his neck as you give a bold kiss to his collarbone. He gives you a smile in return and nestles his head next to yours. Just as your lips were about to seal over one anothers a clawed hand rips him away from you. You’re still too drunk on ambrosia to catch the action and you nearly fall over from the loss of balance. Astarion grabs your wrists and catches you to right yourself. He stands between you and the elf. 

“What the hells? What do you think you’re doing?” the man shouts at Astarion. Normally Astarion feels ice cold but the caged inferno of rage inside of him makes his skin nearly hot. Astarion bares his teeth and nearly rips the man apart. Astarion feels as if he could tear through the center of the earth over and over again. He would take on a thousand men before allowing one to touch you so eagerly. 

“Taking what is mine.” Astarion growls before he turns and hoists you up and over his shoulder. You yelp in surprise and weakly attempt to punch on Astarion’s back to make him put you down. Astarion pays it no mind and trudges away from the dance floor and towards where his tent is on the outskirts of the gathering lies in waiting.

“The hells do you think you are doing? I was quite enjoying my company!” you argue, your words slurring. Astarion lets out a deep snarl at your words.

“Not anymore.” he curtly replies. 

“What is it to you? It’s not like you enjoy my company so I had to make my own!” you counter with a huff. Astarion nearly stops but continues on.

“What in the world gave you that impression?” he asks. 

“I saw how you looked at me in the psychic’s tent! You look at me with disgust!” you huff. You hadn’t noticed you had made it back to Astarion’s tent before he drops you on his abundant pillows. Your back hits your plush surroundings as your limbs try to cooperate to sit you up even a bit. Astarion drops to his knees in front of you with each leg on the sides of yours. His hands hold him in place on either side of your head as you find yourself lost in his crimson eyes.

“And how am I looking at you now?” he whispers. His words cause a stir in your abdomen and your body whines to touch his. His pupils are blown wide as his tongue wipes over his sharp teeth.

“Hungry.” you barely reply, clenching your aching thighs together.

“Starved.”

part five here

part seven here

comment below and ill reply when the next one is up :)

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

DRABBLE: HE GETS HORNY FROM YOUR COSTUME 🎃 (18+) (JJK) (For Black!Fem!Readers)

Writer’s Note: I meant to post this last night for Halloween, BUT work & life had other plans for me so I’m posting it now. Enjoy! -Jazz

*IMPORTANT: Itadori and Megumi are both aged up in this drabble (early 20s).

*********

ITADORI (BATGIRL COSTUME) 

*Note: Reader is described as having "curves" (ass and titties).

The boy nearly popped a hard-on seeing you for the first time in that fitting room. Thank God he was swearing sweats at the time. 

After college classes ended, he invited you out for parfaits and Halloween shopping for Gojo’s costume party since he knew how much you loved Halloween. He, also, was a fan of the holiday and loved that you had something in common with him. Maybe that would open the doors to something more, he hoped. 

“We can shop for decorations for our dorms too!” he excitedly said to you as you walked to the Halloween store among the colorful trees and crisp air. “And maybe even get some candy! You think there are gonna be kids at Gojo’s party too?” 

“Other than us?” you giggled. “No way. With how raunchy Gojo’s gigs get, there will be no kids at this, so we can get all the candy we want for just us!” You laughed at Yuji’s fist pump in the air, thinking about how cute he was. 

When you finally got to the Halloween store, it was packed with people searching for candy and Halloween costumes. You and Yuji went right for the superhero and villain costumes, excitedly talking among yourselves about duo costume ideas. “How about Superman and Wonder Woman?” you suggested, showing him the tight spandex suit and cape. You giggled at the idea of him squeezing himself into it and picking at his groin all night because the suit is too tight. 

He tapped a finger to his chin, squinting at the suit like he was really considering buying it. “Eh, I don’t know how I’d look in this,” he tutted. He scanned the rest of the shelves and gasped excitedly. “Hey, what about these? Batman and Batgirl?” He pointed at the two costume packs, specifically the Batgirl one which came with a mask, belt, and cape. 

You looked at the Batman costume, noticing how big the mask is. It practically took up half of your face if you were to put it on. “If you don’t mind sweating in that mask, sure,” you replied to Yuji. He cheered like you just said you were treating him to dinner.

“Awesome!! Here, go and try this on so you can see how it looks. We’ve got plenty of time before the party starts.” He grabbed the costume and pushed it into your chest, hurrying you off towards the fitting rooms. “You go try it on and I’ll stay here,” he said, taking a seat in one of the lounging chairs outside of the fitting rooms. He grinned at you like a little kid, melting your heart. He was so golden retriever-coded. 

“Okay, okay,” you laughed and disappeared behind the door to one of the rooms. You took the costume off of the hanger and stripped off your own clothes before trying it on. The suit was of spandex-like material and stretches when you put it on, but it felt rather tight against your body and seemed to stick to your chest and ass. You attached the cape to your back and put on the black bat mask it came with before walking towards the door. “I’ve got it on,” you called to Yuji nervously. “It’s kinda tight though.” 

“Really?” Yuji asked. “Well, lemme see! It can’t be that bad.” You mumbled in protest, but came outside of the room regardless. You stood in front of Yuji playing away on his phone and twirled for him. “Here it is,” you said. “So how do I look?” 

Yuji looked up once from his phone and then had to a double take when he saw you. His eyes traced over your body in the skin-tight bodysuit, loving the way it filled out your curves and stuck to your frame. It also did nothing to hide your chest or behind, outlining your assets perfectly. All you had to do was add some high-knee boots and he was ready to bow to you, serve your every need. Before he realized that he was popping a hard-on, it was too late. 

“It looks ridiculous, don’t it?” you sighed, picking at the cape. “The cape and mask are cute, but this suit is just…” You trailed off, realizing how quiet your friend was. You looked at Yuji, noticing his mouth agape and eyes wide as he stared at you. “Yuji?” you carefully asked.

Nothing. Not even a blink of an eye. You bent towards him, your tits in his face and your eyes looking into his. “Yujiii?” you sang. “Hellooo?” 

When Yuji blinked and brought himself back to life out of his fantasy of fucking you silly in the dressing room, he realized how close you were. So close that he could smother himself in your titties if you let him. He jumped back and up out of his seat, startling you. “Fine!” he said a little too loudly. “I-I’m fine, I’m good. You look great! You should buy it!” 

Your eyes trailed down and Yuji quickly reacted by covering his hardened dick with his backpack, not wanting you to see how horny he was for you. “You’re sure?” you asked, still looking uncertain. But he nodded rather aggressively, a smile plastered on his face. “Absolutely!” he replied, already turning around to leave. “Now you go change and I’ll go get my costume to try on.” 

“Okay,” you replied, but he was already racing off before he could hear you. When you entered the dressing room again, your face grew warm and you giggled giddily to yourself, his hardened bulge in your mind.

'He’s so big!’ you thought. 

MEGUMI (SLUTTY DEVIL)

He tried not to look. He really did.

He didn’t want to be like the other horny boys he somehow found himself saddled with at this stupid ass party Nobara dragged him to. 

But goddamn, you look good in red. He was willing to put up with the screaming and drunk antics of these losers surrounding him if it meant he could admire your skin against that bright, cherry red…and your ass in that bodysuit). He couldn’t deny how sexy you looked with those fishnets and horns too. 

The other guys couldn’t deny it either. And Gojo wouldn’t. He also noticed how fine you looked and had been plotting to snag you since he, Megumi, and the gang got here. “God, she’s so fuckin’ fine,” he sighed, eyeing you through his blindfold. 

“Ew,” Yuji gagged in his “Toy Story” costume. He went as Woody while Nobara is Jessie. They tried to get Megumi to be Buzz Lightyear, but he wasn’t having it. He opted for a black hoodie and some jeans.

“Why wouldn’t she just come over here?” Gojo groaned impatiently. 

“Because she’s busy talking to the girls, pervert,” Shoko criticized him, bumping him with her hip in her Pulp Fiction costume. She smoked that damn fake cigarette like it was real. “Let her be. She’s too young for you anyway.” 

Megumi secretly agreed even though you were both in your early twenties. Gojo was in his early thirties around this time, so there wouldn’t be much to criticize or call the cops about, but Megumi still simmered and cringed at the idea of his mentor flirting with you. “Too young,” Gojo parroted, scoffing. “She probably liked older guys!” 

“Well, why don’t you go over there and find out for yourself?” Megumi asked, sipping on his rum and coke. All three looked at him, more because of his tone than his words. He sounded bitter almost though he had meant to sound nonchalant. ‘Fuck,’ he thought. 

A secretive smirk stretched across Gojo’s face. “I have a better idea,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you go over there, ask Y/N, and find out for me, huh, ‘Gumi?” Megumi bristled at the nickname and his mentor’s teasing. 

“Find out what?” a familiar and sexy voice innocently asked. Megumi swore he nearly shat himself when he turned to find you standing behind him. You had been standing and laughing with the Zenin sisters for nearly twenty minutes now. How the fuck did you get here so fast? 

“Oh, there you are, sweetness!” Gojo said. “Listen, Megumi has a very important question to ask you.” “Does he?” you asked innocently, peering at him with those damn, long, pretty lashes. He swore he was going to kill Gojo. “Yes,” Shoko said, stepping in. “And while he does that, we’ll be taking our leave. Come on, boys.” 

While Yuji happily went along, wanting to get more snacks, Gojo had to be dragged away as he protested and whined about missing the show. Shoko smacked him upside the head though which silenced him (for now, anyways). Megumi was then left with you and your stupid ass, sexy ass costume. “Hey, Megumi,” you said, smiling that damn smile at him. “Where’s your costume at?” 

He nearly forgot he was just wearing a hoodie and some jeans to this stupid party. He didn’t care to do it at first, but now seeing the way your eyebrows knitted in concern for his lack of festivity, he felt that he could’ve at least wore a mask or something. “I didn’t wear one,” he grumbled. “Not my style.” 

Luckily, you didn’t seen perturbed for too long. You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal and gave him that dazzling smile that unnerved him to no end. “Well, it’s cool that you’re here anyway,” you giggled. “So what it is you wanted to ask me about?” You stepped closer to him, giving him a whiff of your perfume that smelled like warm apple pie. 

Megumi suddenly couldn't think, his mind jumbled. “I, uh…no, Gojo, he…” You pouted those pretty, glossed lips up at him, your eyes big and waiting for him to spit it out. Those lips…those pretty, soft, thick lips he wanted to press his mouth to if not feel wrapped around his dick. 

It didn’t take long for him to realize he was hard. And extremely so. It chubbed against his jeans, making him extremely uncomfortable and hot in his clothes. Megumi never got horny like this for girls. He found some attractive, sure, but he never envisioned them on their knees sucking him off or pinned against a wall while he fucked them into a stupor. But when it came to you? That was all off of the table. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered to himself. 

“Megumi?” you questioned. You raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you okay?” He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. How could he tell you that he was popping a boner for you? Your red-gloved hand moved to his forehead, making his breath hitch in his throat. “God, you’re burning up,” you gasped. “Here, come with me and we’ll get you some water.” 

You took his hand and began to drag him through the party to the staircase, oblivious to Yuji and Gojo’s obnoxious cheers as they probably thought Megumi was getting some ass. All he got was a cool towel against his forehead and you sitting with him on the edge of the bathtub, close enough to touch and feel, as you talked about the new horror movies dropping in the next year. He listened, chiming in here and there, but he really just loved your voice. 

After the party ended and everyone went home, he found himself conjuring up the memory of your sweet voice again as he fucked his hand, picturing it as your gorgeous, tight, wet pussy wrapped around him.

Even when he came, he continued to fist his cock, biting back his moans and whines at the image of you behind his lids. ‘You,’ he thought in his clouded brain after his orgasm. ‘It’s because of fuckin’ you.’

SATORU & SUGURU (CAT GIRL COSTUME)

They wouldn’t leave you alone.

Quite literally. They followed you absolutely everywhere you went as you made your rounds at the school staff costume party. 

You knew you looked good in your cheetah costume for the night, which you paired with some ears, a tail, and a skin-tight dress under your jacket that hugged your frame and ass just right, but damn! Could a girl breathe? Especially away from two men that she wasn’t interested in. 

After making the last of your rounds saying hi to a professor, you stopped at a snack table and got yourself another glass of “special” punch. You were glad that this party was adults only so most of the drinks were alcoholic. You needed it, especially surrounded by these two.

“Can y’all stop following me, please?” you sighed. “It’s not going to make me any more interested in either of you.” 

When you turned around, sure enough, Satoru and Suguru stood behind you in their costumes. Satoru went as Jason, the mask turned up over his face, while Suguru decided on a vampire, scouting the cape and fake fangs while his thick, black hair was tied in a bun. You didn’t want to admit it but they looked cute.

“We just wanna make sure you’re safe,” Gojo said with a grin. “You’d be surprised how many guys love cat girls.” 

He peeled up his blindfold slightly and gave you a wink that you weren't swayed by. “Like you two?” you retorted. “Please, neither one of you are slick. You’ve been starin’ at me all night.” 

“And with good reason!” Satoru replied, that damn gigawatt smile still plastered on his face. Like he was so sure you would fold for him. “You can’t blame us for admiring how adorable you look!”

Suguru nodded in agreement, more stoic than his friend but just as flirtatious. “He has a point, Ms. L/N,” he agreed. “The ears make it a lot harder for us to not pay attention to you.” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Geto, I told you to just call me Y/N,” you sighed. “And I appreciate the compliment, but I’m still not interested. Especially in two guys.”

You ticked one finger between the two of them. They were all the women (and men, if they happened to like dick) talked about among the staff lounges and school hallways––how skilled and powerful they were; how funny and intelligent they were; how hot they were; how good they were in bed.

You wanted no parts in any of that. You refused to let your head get wrapped up in love or lust when you had a job to do for the students here, and that was to be a great counselor to them. 

While Suguru looked saddened at your comment, Satoru only chuckled. “Such a fierce kitty,” he cackled. He threw up his hands in defense. “Alright, fine, point taken. But if you ever decide that you’re tired of this boring ass party and want some new entertainment, we’ll be right over at that punch bowl.”

He gave you another flirty smirk that stirred something in you. “Don’t stray too far, kitty cat.” 

Then he was gone, sauntering up to the snack table. “Ignore him,” Suguru sighed. “He likes to flirt and tease, but he does like you.” 

You cocked your head at him, swirling your drink around in your red solo cup. “Really? I didn’t even notice.”

The long-haired man smirked at your fiery attitude, liking it. And you hated that you liked that he liked it. “What’s with you two anyway?” you demanded. “Flirting with me when half of the school staff would gladly take you up on your offer?” 

You squinted at him, daring him to say something smart or skid around the question. But to your shock, he didn’t. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils and gave you an apologetic look.

“This is gonna sound really fuckboy-ish and generic,” he began, “but believe me when I say that you’re not like the other school staff members. You’re intelligent, kind, and actually give a shit about the kids here. That’s rare.” 

He quirked a smile at you. A real, genuine, sweet smile that made your stomach flip. “Satoru and I like that rareness in you.”

Against your better judgment, you turned towards the snack table and sure enough, Satoru was already staring at you, his blindfold turned up to give you a look at his piercing, blue eyes. They looked genuine and serene, making you feel as if Suguru was telling the truth. 

You turned back to the handsome vampire to respond, but you were stopped by the slamming of a door as another guest entered the place. Suki, the thirsty school nurse, came barreling in with her long, pink hair dressed as (surprise, surprise) a sexy nurse with a latex dress that nearly exposed her entire ass and pumps.

“Suguruuu!” her shrill voice hollered out. “Satoruuuu, I’m here!” Her voice rose above the music, earning eyes. “Where are my two favorite professors?” she asked, looking around the room. 

You’ve never cringed so hard in your life. Even Satoru and Suguru looked perturbed at Suki’s arrival. 

“Well, duty calls,” Suguru chuckled, giving you a warm smile. “We’ll see you around, Ms. L/N.” He paused, looking almost sheepish. “I mean Y/N,” he corrected, and his name sounded like pure sex on his tongue. “Come around and see us if you need us.” 

You didn’t say anything as he walked away. You felt like you couldn’t. You also felt like he meant much more in that statement than he let on. Throughout the night, you could feel the want to find out rising, the temptation building with every second you stood watching them from afar.

You tried to play it low-key, but you could tell they knew you were watching every time your eyes met theirs across the room: whether at the snack tables or on the dance floor with a very drunk Suki. Every smile they threw her (though friendly and possibly fake) sent a shock of jealousy through you. 

And you were surprised by it. You thought you didn’t want these guys to begin with! But you quickly realized that it was all bluff. A cover to protect yourself and your job.

You wanted them to smile at you; to touch you, even lightly; to be within their presence. You wanted to be pressed up against them, one of them in front while the other pushed up against you from behind. You wanted their lips on you, their hands caressing your body.

You wanted them, badly. 

And you didn’t leave the party that night until you made that known. With the temptation reaching its boiling point, you got onto your phone and made a quick group chat for just Satoru and Suguru.

As an employee at the school, an app was used with every employee to make contacting staff for meetings and other important issues easier. Getting your back broken by the two was a very important issue in your eyes. So, with the buzz of the alcohol and doing something extremely naughty, you shot them both a text. 

You excitedly and nervously looked across the room at the two who sat on one of the leather couches set up for the guests while Suki went to bother with a lizard she suddenly had her eyes set on.

Satoru went for his phone first while Suguru nodded his head to the music. You watched as Satoru’s eyes widened in shock and he bumped Suguru for his attention. Suguru looked annoyed at the white-haired hottie ruining his vibe session, but his expression changed when Satoru showed him your text: 

Took you up on your offer. You two wanna dance? -Y/N 

Both looked at the phone with two disbelieving smiles before their eyes flicked across the room to find you.

When they did, it was as if all time stopped and everything in the room disappeared except for you three. All you knew were their seductive, knowing smirks, the thumping of your heart, and the tingling sensation between your legs. There was no going back at that point. You all knew that. 

Though, of course, you were able to withdraw consent at any time (as both Satoru and Suguru told you later), that never happened. Especially when they had you pinned against their bodies an hour later, their cocks in either of your holes.

You had slipped away from the party for a nighttime “walk” which turned into a very passionate and messy kissing, touching, and groping session. 

You then found yourself behind the brick wall of a vacant campus building with Satoru’s thick cock plunging into the gummy, gushy walls of your pussy and your lips wrapped around Suguru’s even thicker cock as he fucked the makeup right off of your face.

“I think this is a little bit more than just dancing,” Satoru grunted, twirling your fake tail as his hips snapped into your ass, making it jiggle. “What do you think, Sugu?” 

Hushed moans and grunts left Suguru’s mouth as he thrusted into your hot, wet mouth, his cock head touching the back of your throat. “Definitely,” he groaned. “But the way her body moves is amazing either way. Look at how well she’s taking your cock, ‘Tarou.” He caressed your back with one hand, sending shivers down your spine. 

Satoru leaned down to whisper in and nibble at your ear as he fucked your poor pussy into submission. “Does it feel good, kitty?” he teasingly asked, his hand gliding down your naked ass. “You like takin’ this dick while throating Suguru’s cock?”

You then felt his thumb slide between your asscheeks and sliding into your asshole. You nearly came right there as your lips and pussy walls clamped around Satoru and Suguru’s cocks, drawing a moan from them both.

“Told you so,” Satoru chuckled, his laughter melting into moans as he continued to fuck you. “See what happens when you stop playin’ and being so goddamn stubborn?” 

NANAMI (SLUTTY TEACHER) 

*Note: Reader is described as having "curves" (ass and titties).

He couldn’t stop staring at you. God, help him, he knew it was improper, but shit, did your ass look good in that skirt! 

“Why don’t you just talk to the girl instead of just eye-fucking her?” Satoru whispered, nearly scaring the shit out of Kento.

He had been eyeing you down for so long that he nearly forgot where he was: at the school staff’s annual costume party. And here he was ogling you like he was at a strip club. He was disgusted with himself, especially being that you were such a great teacher and employee here. 

“Eye-what?” he scoffed, disgusted at Satoru’s suggestion and knowing smirk in his Ghostface costume. “Please don’t talk that way around me. You know how I feel about vulgarity, Satoru.” The white-haired male only scoffed. “Then you should tell her off for the vulgarity of her outfit. I mean, just look at that top!” 

Though Kento hated to have a point, his “friend” (and he used that word lightly) had a point. The costume you decided to wear tonight was less than subtle or friendly with your tight pencil skirt that hugged your round ass, low cut white top that just showed the curve of your luscious, milky breasts, and the nylon stockings on your slender legs that led down to your cherry-red pumps that Kento wanted to kiss, lick, and feel stabbing into his chest...call him a pain slut. Toss in your glasses and the pencil behind your ear and he was ready to wreck you. 

But he wasn’t going to let the pervert standing beside him know that. “This is an adult event and she can wear what she wants,” he firmly told Satoru. “And there is nothing to talk about unless we’re working. I have no need to speak to her.” Satoru quirked an eyebrow over his blindfold. “You sure about that?” he asked. “Not even to ask her how her tonight is going?” 

Kento looked back at you, noticing you talking to someone wearing a Catwoman outfit and mask by the punch bowl. “Look, she’s in the middle of a conversation anyway,” he scoffed. “It would be rude of me to–“ 

“Mei Mei is under there,” Satoru interrupted. Kento nearly crushed the plastic cup of punch he was holding. “You may wanna jump in this unless you want Y/N to become pussy-whipped. You know how Mei is with women.” He then paused, thinking for a moment. “Unless you’re fixing to join, then–“ 

“Shut up,” Kento said, though it came out as a growl. “I am not doing this for you, but for her.” 

Satoru stood back and put his hands up in defense, more than happy to see this unfold (because he was a whore for drama). “Say no more,” he chuckled. “Just make sure you get her number later.” Kento was already walking off towards you and Mei Mei, trying to appear calm when he was really freaking the fuck out on the inside. 

What was he going to say once he got over to you and Mei Mei? He really just wanted to see what you two were talking about and if Mei Mei was putting the charm on you. She always had a way with the women and men here with her long, flowing hair like snow, seductive eyes, and lustful yet addictive voice. She always put a spell on people that usually had them under her foot and in her bed. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t want you to end up as another one of her conquests. 

When he finally neared you, he could just make out your conversation, Mei Mei’s voice rising over the music and chatter. “-was hoping we could go for tea sometime,” she said in her soothing, seductive voice. “You know, tea soothes stress…among other things.”

You sipped on your drink and curiously cocked your head to the side. “Other things?” you giggled. “Like what? A personal spa day?” 

Kento nearly groaned. So innocent you were yet you dressed like a vixen straight out of a horny boy’s wet dream. Mei Mei’s red lips curled into a smirk as her hand inched closer to yours on the edge of the punch table. “I was thinking more of…”

She couldn’t say much more because Kento was already looming behind her. He cleared his throat and fixed his leopard-spotted tie in an effort to appear “normal”. “Ms. L/N,” he greeted you. 

Your pretty brown eyes, enlarged by the glasses, ticked up to meet his. A bright, gleeful smile crossed your glossy lips, making Kento’s cock twitch in his slacks. ‘Goddammit,’ he thought, more disappointed in his body than anything. He should know better than to lust after a coworker like this. "Hey, Mr. Nanami!” you greeted happily. “Is that your costume for tonight? It looks like your regular suit.” 

You cutely knitted your brows at his blue suit, dress shoes, and tie. “It is,” he admitted, nervously fixing his tie. “I’m not much of a Halloween person. I’m just here to support the school.” 

You nodded understandably while Mei Mei tittered to herself, irking Kento’s nerves somewhat. “Well, I’m glad you decided to come out of your office finally,” she chuckled, turning to him. “Y/N was just telling me about the stress of her job. I was just offering her my assistance over some tea.” She turned to you then, her smirk growing. “You do like tea, don’t you, Y/N?” 

Kento assessed your connection and reaction to Mei Mei carefully, knowing the game the white-haired woman was playing. She was trying to make him jealous. Get a rise out of him. See if he could go toe to toe with her. “Only iced tea, unfortunately,” you sheepishly laughed. “I’m more of a coffee person though I should stay clear of that.” You turned to Kento then, curiosity in your pretty eyes. “What do you do to ease your stress, Mr. Nanami?” 

Kento and Mei Mei blinked at you in surprise, not expecting you to ask him. “Well, um…” Kento tried to look absolutely anywhere but at your cleavage or your eyes, visions of his cum dripping down your chest and glasses hitting him with every glance. Thank God for the tinted shades he decided to wear tonight. “I suppose exercise and meditation.” 

You nodded, letting out an “ohhh” of realization that made him want to kiss you silly. You were so fucking cute! “That must be why you’re always so calm,” you giggled. “You’ll have to teach me how to effectively meditate sometime.”

You smiled at him then, but there was a hint of flirtation to it. You were flirting with him, right in front of Mei Mei! Kento swore he nearly blew a hole in his pants with how hard he was for you. He couldn’t believe it! You, so sweet and sexy, were flirting with him, so awkward and out of place? 

He decided right then he was going to give Mei Mei the rise she wanted and smirked down at you, feeling confident now. “I suppose I could make some room in my schedule for that,” he said. “Though meditation takes a long time to master. Months, in short. Are you you’re up for that, Ms. L/N?” He peered over his glasses at you, drilling you with his eyes. 

Though he could tell you were taken aback by the obvious mutual flirting, your smile only grew bigger and more seductive. “I can handle a challenge, Mr. Nanami,” you softly replied. Kento almost bent you over and fucked you in front of everyone at the party at that point. 

“Mei Mei, over here!” All three of you turned to the balcony where a couple of witches were waving at Mei Mei (who Kento nearly forgot was there) to come over. “Mei Mei, I think you’re being summoned on the balcony,” he said, not at all trying to hide his smugness. The long-haired woman cut a very sharp glare his way at pussy blocking her, but strutted off to see her groupies regardless. Then it was just you and him. Finally. 

You looked up at him, so eager and excited as if you were hoping she would leave. He was hoping that you did. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your conversation, but I felt I needed to comment on your costume for tonight. It’s very…” His eyes ran over your body, noticing how nicely you filled out the skirt. “Nice,” he decided on. The other words he had in mind weren’t as appropriate. 

You thanked him regardless. “I had you in mind,” you confessed. “You always look so good comin’ in here. Very put-together and, um…handsome.”

Despite your skin tone, you visibly flushed under the lights as soon the words were out and nervously bit your lip. Kento was taken aback by the compliment as well but felt even more confident and more aroused after you said it.

“I’m sorry, is this making you uncomfortable?” you apologetically said. “Should I chill on the punch?” You nodded down at your cup of vodka-spiked fruit punch (damn Satoru!). 

Kento slowly shook his head, still reeling from your compliment. “No, it’s fine. I’ve just…never been good at the whole flirting thing.” He cleared his throat and once again fixed his tie––a nervous habit.

You shyly smiled up at him, coming an inch closer to him. He nearly held his breath as you did, your perfume hitting his senses. You smelled like the sweetest treat, like a cinnamon bun dribbling in vanilla icing. He wanted to eat you like one.

“Can I tell you something?” you softly asked. Wordlessly, he nodded. “I’m not either.” Your free hand then moved away from the table to brush his fingers with his, sending electric shocks throughout his body. “But maybe, if you’re interested, we can learn together…if you’d like.” You looked up at him, hopeful and open, your cards laid out flat on the table for him. 

He was more than happy to give you everything you wanted then. “Can we start by getting the hell out of here?” he suggested. “I know the track field is empty around this time of night. Would you want to take a walk with me, Ms. L/N?” 

Your brown eyes sparkled happily as you giggled to yourself. “Y/N,” you corrected. “And yes. You’re already off to a good start, Mr. Nanami.” 

His hand found yours, interlacing your fingers. “Kento,” he replied, a smile playing on his lips.  

TOJI & SHIU (VELMA COSTUME) 

They didn’t even let you explain the costume to them. They just had their hands up your red skirt. 

“So you said she’s a cartoon character?” Toji asked, his lips playing with your neck as his large hands squeezed one asscheek. You whimpered pitifully, leaning your head back into his broad chest. “Y-Yes,” you answered. “From Scooby Doo.” 

Toji paused from his ministrations for a moment as he attempted to give you some hicks. “Scooby what?” he asked, momentarily distracted by his confusion.

Shiu, with his hand on your other asscheek, rolled his eyes at his partner. “Scooby Doo, Toji,” he sighed. “Fuck, you never listen. Have you ever even seen the show before?” 

Toji carelessly shrugged as he went back to sucking and kissing your neck until bruises appeared. “I barely watched TV growin’ up,” he murmured against your skin. “Too busy trainin’ and bein’ a little shit to watch much cartoons. Sorry for my shitty childhood. So this is what that chick wears? What’s her name?”

Shiu began to glide a hand up your orange crop top, cupping one of your breasts nearly spilling out of your bra. “Velma,” he answered as his lips found your jawline. He began to pepper it with kisses as he trailed down to your chest, groping your breast as he did. “Though her outfit was less slutty. Our girl just can't help but always let us know how much of a horny little thing she is.”

He took his hand and roughly cupped your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes from behind your fake glasses. "Don’t you, princess?” he asked, grinning at you with those plump lips. Toji hummed appreciatively as he kneeled behind you, lifting up your skirt to reveal your red lace panties under your mini skirt. 

“G-Guys,” you pitifully moaned. “Please…this is for tonight. F-For the club.” Your words melted into moans as Toji took two fingers and began to glide them along the underside of your panties which were quickly becoming damp.

“What, you think we’re gonna miss it?” he scoffed. “Or are you just so desperate to throw this slutty little ass around for everyone to see?” He gripped your ass hard before giving one of the cheeks a hard, stinging slap. 

“We’ll get you to the club, princess,” Shiu said, his tongue jutting out to lick your bottom lip. “And don’t worry: your little outfit will be just fine. In the meantime, we have a mystery you can solve.” He looked down at Toji with a devious smirk that the mercenary returned. 

You watched, confused and extremely aroused, as the two men stood before you, practically towering over you. They then stripped themselves of their tops to reveal their rippling muscles and broad chests before their hands went for their pants where two thick, long, and throbbing hard bulges were. All for you. 

“Think you can figure out what monsters are in here, gorgeous?” Shiu asked, cocking an eyebrow at you. “You’ll have to get on your knees and find out for yourself.” 

“You won’t need no clues for this, princess,” Toji cackled, already pushing you down onto your knees in front of his and Shiu’s hardened cocks. “Just that slutty little throat of yours.” He then tilted your head up to meet his darkened gaze. “And the glasses stay on,” he growled. 

You went to the club that night with them completely sore and absolutely fucked out of your mind with your panties being the only thing to stop the cum from dripping down your thighs.

[husbandhoshi]

i raise you nerd!wonwoo who is fully a virgin but learns there's a huge market for raunchy guided audios. and he may not be brave but he is certainly an opportunist--how hard would it be to just make stuff up for 30 minutes, anonymously, and not even have to turn on a camera? he might as well start saving up for a new computer (he does, quickly).

and wonwoo's little one-man project does quite well. it's much easier to moan into a mic when no one is watching. he learns his fans like being called all sorts of things--slut, princess, darling--it's all the same to him. he'll call anyone anything for a quick buck. no one has to know he gets all hard under his sweats, lets his muscles tense up thinking about actually calling someone that, right in the hook of their ear, as they curl up into him. that's between him, his fist, and the nebulous image of a hot girl on her knees that he has tucked in the back pocket of his brain.

so what's he to do when you, one of the most popular camgirls on the site, reaches out to him for to collaborate? it's free money, you tell him over the phone. just give me a call when i'm on air, and i'll spread my legs. easy.

you're right--it is free money. he's saving up for one of those pastel studio ghibli clackity keyboards, and he was never above good business. what you're not right about is the easy part. he learns it is not easy to watch the slow drag of your fingers down your chest, a wicked sleight-of-hand that would almost seem like magic if he wasn't the magician. touch yourself, he says, voice shaking for the first goddamn time in his life, and he almost forgets he's not just one of your spectators. show me how much you want it.

impatient, are we? your voice practically melts out of his speakers and he's two neurons away from saying, yes, yes, wanna see more, like some crazed, horny idiot blowing up your chatbox. instead he calls you sweetheart, angel, every once-practiced word tumbling off his tongue like he's learning to speak again as he watches your palm dance against your perfect little cunt. this is not easy either. the only thing saving him from coming all over himself is the fact that he’s still got a show to run.

the stream ends without a hitch on your end--after all, it's just another tuesday for you. for wonwoo, on the other hand, dick in one hand and his phone, loaded up with your profile page, in the other, is a lot worse for wear.

next week? you text him. yeah. i'll call you when you're on, he replies, the one and only time he lets his dick do all the thinking. good. i like surprises, you tell him.

it's only when he finds himself pulling up your old streams during one of his recordings when he thinks you might not like surprises as much as you say. he thinks of his voice, gravelly with want, pulling those pretty fingers to your tits, your swollen mouth, your pussy. then his hands, inexperienced and clumsy, over that wickedly soft, lonely skin.

you might like surprises, but wonwoo certainly doesn't. unluckily for him, this isn't an easy one to get out of.

[nonsense-with-jelly]

Can i request an enemys to lovers headcanon with Lupin iii. Like the reader is an agent who is trying to capture Lupin but he just flirts with them all the time.

Lupin III × Reader: Enemies to Lovers

Headcanons (also a fic if you squint)

♡♠︎◇♣︎♡♠︎◇♣︎♡♠︎◇♣︎♡♠︎◇♣︎

Ah how Lupin LOVED being chased. But being chased by you? Ohohohoh, he had too much fun getting chased by you

Your an agent for a crime organization that feels as though Lupin is a threat, you aren't chasing him to throw him in jail, you're chasing him to catch him and get him out of the way. And your determination to make sure he never sees the light of day again REALLY turns him on and he makes sure you know it!

His flirting starts off small, just winks and blowing kisses, and as days turn to months, he just keeps getting flirtier.

You could have him cornered and the best way he can think of escaping is giving you a big sloppy wet kiss on the mouth. The kind that leaves you shaking and asking "what the fuck just happened?" as he escapes.

He also figures out where you stay when you chase him. He sends love letters to your hotel room or even your home. At first you found it disturbing, but as time passed, you kinda looked forward to them

Time goes on and his jokes become more risqué just to stun you so you will never catch up to him.

You had given into a few of his escape kisses, which felt like a forbidden makeout session

He had even started upping his game with love letters, sending shamelessly raunchy letters that make your stomach twist in a way that is difficult to describe. You know you should feel sick, but there is another sensation your feeling that makes your face feel warm and your knees feel weak.

Finally, you have caught him. You could've turned him over to the organization to have him locked away underground forever... but that's not what you wanted anymore.

Once he is finally in your grasp, you return is flirtiness tenfold in the form of a confession. You ask him if he would let you join him, and he accepts.

Sure, his friends are a bit wary of you at firat since you WERE trying to capture him, but Lupin knows where your loyalty stands when you wrap yourself around him in a desperate embrace, the kind that makes it seem as though you are holding on as though you could lose him... which, knowing the organization... you COULD lose him...

♡♠︎◇♣︎♡♠︎◇♣︎♡♠︎◇♣︎♡♠︎◇♣︎

Author's Note

Finished this before work, might do a part 2 if you want... I kept having to fight myself to not make this into a full on fic... which I feel like I kinda did anyways...

[ghostb0ii]

141 task force members walk in on you playing to some spicy music

Slightly NSFW post, but please enjoy ! These are my Headcanons on how each member and other characters would react to you playing sexy music as they walk in! Captain price : When you blast Ride by Ginuwine, he will chuckle, knowing that you're just admiring him for looking so handsome. He'll walk over and kiss your forehead whispering in your ear " You need to behave." while running his hands down to your waist and kissing your neck softly. His grip will tighten on you and his expression is soft, though he has a lot he wants to do to you right in that moment. Soap: You'll be blasting Earned it by the Weekend and Soap will melt, he may be a tough guy but he love's the way your eyes wander all over his body and how enamored you seem by him. Soap will pick you up and put you over his shoulder taking you straight to the bedroom. mumbling under his breath all of the things he's going to do to you, " Keep this up and i'll make sure to treat you every night." Ghost: the song you choose fits perfectly whenever he comes home. It's late and every time you see him, you just remember the first day you met him, you'll play Get you by Daniel Caesar, a very intimate and slow song. But he knows, he's quiet and looks at you, his eyes are usually empty but when you play music like this there's a glint that shines. Ghost will walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist as you both slowly sway together to the music. He'll be kissing your neck softly and whispering into your ear sweet words while he also nips at your ear.

Konig: A sweet and gentle man and whenever you know he's coming over you put on All to you by Sabrina Claudio. Konig melts as he hears the song, making him weak in the knees, he absolutely loves when you play music like that just for him. He love's when you praise him, so this form of praise just excites him even more, only leading him to pick you up and taking you to the bedroom as he whispers everything he wants to do to you and how he belongs to you and only you. Valeria: You love the way she confidently walks into the room as you play Gorilla by Bruno Mars. She'll blush a bit and start walking slowly towards you " ¿Que paso amor, eso es lo que quieres?" she lifts your chin up to look you dead in the eyes with a playful smile and she'll lean in to kiss you passionately. Valeria doesn't play when it comes to you and she just loves it when you shower her with attention. Only to love on you even more and show you that you're the only one she truly wants.

Alejandro : You blast Big Boss by victoria monet, this man love's when you play sexy music as he walks in. It really turns him on, whether its intimate or very raunchy he loves it. He'll walk up to you and lift you as he kisses you passionately, squeezing on you tightly. He's the type to give you hickeys as he lays you onto the couch softly whispering how much he loves you. Rudy: You know he'll get embarrassed but you love to see it on his face. You'll blast Yeah i said it by Rhianna, sending this man into a full meltdown ( the good kind though). His face will turn red and he'll become so flustered he'll start to stutter and mumble. Coming up close to you and hugging you tightly as he softly kisses your neck and laughs a bit " You're teasing me.." Gaz: You'll be blasting Need to know by Doja cat and he will have the biggest smile on his face. He'll walk over to you as he dance's and starts laughing, he love's it so much when you do this, it feels like the weight on his shoulders is suddenly gone and now all he can think is the moment with you. Dancing and laughing he'll kiss you soft kiss as he grabs your waist, " You make everything so much better you know." This man is a lover boy i just know he would be melting on the inside too once you do this. Graves : You know blasting raunchy songs drives this man crazy and in a very good way. You'd play When she comes home tonight by Riley Green this man will literally fall to his knees just for you, he loves it when you play music like this. He'll praise you and gently kiss your thighs while slowly making his way up to finally plant a kiss on your lips. He's a romantic man who will whisper sweet words and promise to fulfill anything you want that night and for the rest of your life. This man is a full on lover, a romantic and will do everything for you. Requested by @jasminmartinez19

[jenna-ortega]

Dear Joel Miller ll

Part l

Summary— You’re back in town after a few years, and your dads new neighbor seems to always be there when you’re in need of a hand. Can you handle Joel Miller? (dbf joel) (could be a series if people enjoy)

Warnings— angst, fingering, dbf!joel, stern joel(ish) age gap (Joel late 40’s, reader in 20’s), not set in apocalyptic times, c*nnilingus, bj's

Word Count— 2.7k

Joel Miller was screwed. He opened up a can of worms he couldn’t close, and even if he did…it’s going to be messy. It took everything in him not to fuck you stupid in your bedroom when he heard you moaning out for him.

His night consisted of fucking his own fist imagining your lips around him. Images of you taking him on your knees flicker in his head, fuck…how was he going to end this. He knew this was wrong, so so wrong. But a part of him wanted to pursue you, like he originally planned. He wanted to spend his summer taunting and teasing you until you were begging for him to fuck you. And you…oh you already needed more from him.

It’s been a week since your encounter with the older man. Surprised is an understatement for you, especially since you’ve been receiving his mail. You’d been waiting for the perfect time to prance by the door in your shortest shorts and tiny tank top for him, but that day never came.

You huffed your way through the long week, hanging out with some friends and trying to seem busy. Though, your mind was trained on him. On the raunchy scene he walked in on. On the fact that he actually touched you the way your body craved. No. You had to stop fixating on this. If he was going to ignore you, you were going to ignore him back…right?

Not right.

Your ego couldn’t handle the rejection being forced on you. Was it rejection? Or was it just a man twice your age too busy to entertain your twisted fantasies.

Noticing the sun starting to go down, you stomped to your front door, looking over at the various mailings addressed to the Miller residence.

“I’ll be right back.” you screamed to your father, slamming the screen door shut as your eyes trained in on the 4x4 truck sitting in Joel’s driveway. He was home, and boy was he going to hear you.

—

Knock.

Shit. Your heart pounded at your first knock, freezing you in your steps. Was this a bad idea? Maybe you should go back home. No. You needed answers. Why was he ignoring you?

Knock. Knock.

Oh no. This is wrong. This is all wrong. Your brain fogged to logic, your eyes squeeze shut hoping for the embarrassment that creeps up your bones to fade. It never does, and you decide this was just a terrible idea.

Your back turned to the door, your eyes widen as you hear the creek of the door behind you.

“There a reason for bangin’ on my door like the cops?” Joel’s voice raspy with a slight twinge of annoyance. You hear his sigh as you turn on your heels to face him, you smile big, awkwardly looking anywhere but him.

He looks so…sleepy. You must have just woken him up, giving him a one up you notice his loose pajama pants and baggy grey T-shirt.

“Sorry. Sorry.” You force out as your eyes dart to his messy curls, you bite your lip as you hold up his mail.

“Just dropping this off for you. Noticed you hadn’t come by.” as you handed it off to him, Joel’s hand passed the mail and grabbed your wrist to pull you in closer.

“Hm.” his brown eyes looks you up and down in your oversized NYU shirt with barely noticeable shorts underneath.

“Missed me so much ya just had to find a way to see me.” your heart sped looking at Joel smirking at your surprised face, taken back by how forward he was.

“I figured we would talk after …that. Yes.” your eyebrows furrow at his comment, your body moving on it’s own as he pulls you into his house, front door still wide open for the public to see.

“So…talk” Joel gestured his hands to invite you into his place.

You walk further in, noticing all of Joel’s little homey items.

“It’s cute in here” you comment, turning to face him as you notice his quizzed expression.

“So you banged on my door to…”Joel drifts off as he walks to you, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear “…to play interior designer?” Joel chuckles to himself.

“No.” you roll your eyes, slapping Joel’s hand away.

“Then what?” his eyes squint at you, watching your face fold into a more worried expression.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” your voice going before your brain decides if this was the best course of action.

“I’ve been busy.”

“No. You’ve been ignoring me.” you demand, and he chides at your comment.

“Okay. You caught me. I’ve been….ignoring you. You keen on tellin’ me why I might be ignoring you, sweetheart?” Joel crosses his arms, waiting for you to say it.

“I don’t know, Joel” you walked straight up to him. “You tell me why.”

Joel let the silence get you worked up until he see's you squirming,

“Well I think it’s cause I got to play with that pussy and you can’t stand the thought of not knowing if it’ll happen again” he walks on you closer as he says it, looking down at you as you scrunch your face in disgust.

Is he really going to be this lewd about it? You take two steps away from him as you throw your hands up,

“Oh Jesus, Joel.” Your voice louder and higher in pitch.

Joel laughs at your reaction, it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

“You wanted me to say it, darlin’. Why the outburst now?” Joel’s hands go up in defense as he continues,

“Tell me why you’re here.” Joel walks to you, pushing you slowly against the wall behind you, his hand traveling from your hip to resting calmly at your throat. His voice lower and threatening,

“Tell me, honey. Tell me why you came here.” you gasp at his quick whip. The feel of his hand on your throat is warm, your eyes go dreamy on him. Holding back a moan as you feel his other hand roam to your ass and squeeze.

“Tell me why you brought your pretty lil’ ass to my front door.”

“Joel” you moan lightly as you feel his hand squeeze every part of you. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, hearing a faint uh-uh as Joel’s hand leaves your neck to clamp your chin and bring your face up to his.

“Use that mouth now or I’ll use it for you.” he threatens, pulling a groan from him as you open your mouth to suck on his finger.

Your bodies pull apart with the speed of light as you hear a voice call your name, footsteps slowly approaching Joel’s front door.

“I was wondering where you were. Dinner’s made, what took you so long?” your father doesn’t ask permission, just comes inside Joel’s house as if he knows the place.

Oh, he does.

“Your daughter just dropped me my mail. She’s a sweetheart, ain’t she?” Joel looks to you and smiles arrogantly.

“Glad you two are getting along!” your father says unknowingly. “Let’s go”

You follow your father out further behind him, feeling Joel’s hand squeeze your ass as he shuts the door behind the two of you. You squeaked, earning a bizarre look from your father. You coughed loudly, “Sorry.” And left it at that.

Your heart beating fast and your brain completely scattered. Joel Miller has you right where he wants you.

-

You trip as you're putting on your boots. "Almost ready!" you call downstairs.

"Would ya hurry up, i've got my people waiting" your dad calls to you,

"You don't have people!" cowboy boots clicking with each step downstairs you take,

"Ready!"

-

You don’t want to be there…it’s boring. Some dingy work night out for your fathers company he didn’t even have to drag you to.

Your eyes dart through the small restaurant. You rush to the bar before your father see’s you’ve been off on your own.

“One tequila pineapple please!” you slip the bartender your card to open a tab as you take your drink and settle at your table.

“Funky outfit you go on there,” your dad and his friends giggle to themselves as they look you up and down in your long sundress paired with black cowboy boots.

“Oh yeah,” you laugh lightly, “since your flannel shirts and khaki pants are the epitome of fashion” you squint your eyes at the boys sarcastically as they all “oohhh, and ahhh” at you.

“We’re just teasing,” the shaggy haired man you call Danny states,

“I guess New York City really did change you, huh?”

You huff as you take your drink and get up,

“Have fun boys, I’m off to find conversations that don’t bore me” you smile wide, and walk away hearing “she’s gotten feisty”

-

You find solitude thankfully, walking into the outdoor area of the restaurant. Green umbrellas adorning the wide tables of empty seats.

Your chair screeches as you pull it out, sitting quietly as the light breeze catches your hair.

“Not havin’ fun?”

You turn doe eyed, catching the tall man sneaking up on you.

“No. You?”

“Nahh. Got here a too early I guess.” Joel’s boots echo loudly on the cement, coming to the seat next to you.

“Too early?” You question, looking down at the brown liquid in his glass you’re sure he’s been nursing.

“Yeah.” Joel sips his liquid

“A certain person I wanted to see came late. Had me stuck talkin’ to the boring shmukes your father calls coworkers.” his southern mannerism pulling at the end of his sentence.

“And who is it you came to see?” you tilt your head to the side, sucking your cheek in,

“Ohh ..you see the bartender?” he points,

“Her names Jenn and she’s smokin’ hot” he jokes as you pat his shoulder laughing at his obvious meaning,

“Joel, I’ve had enough bad jokes for the night” you sigh lowly, looking up to finally take him in.

“Why are you even here?” you question,

He shakes his head at you begrudgingly

“Well why are you here?” he threw the question back at you,

“Fair.”

“I don’t want to be here for much longer, though.” admittedly, you were hoping for Joel to offer you a ride—

“You need a ride?”

-

The road home was bumpy, your eyes stayed on Joel’s impeccable jawline. He looked so put together, so handsome. It’s your first time seeing him cleaned up.

“I see you burnin’ a hole through my face, honey”

“Sorry.” you shifted awkwardly

“No need to be sorry,”

“You just look so fuckable tonight”

It was your turn to make Joel shift in his seat. Your words took him back, watching the red flush on him cheeks. Oh, you’re so getting him back for what he did to you.

“You’re being a bad girl. You know that?” he turned to you as he slowed at the red light,

“Not yet I’m not,” you smiled slyly, moving closer to him in the front seat of his truck.

Your hand resting on the obvious bulge that he’s been styling all night looking at you.

“Whoa baby, not here.” Joel tries to swat you away, but you’re faster in undoing his zipper.

“Fuck—“

You take his half hard cock into your hand, kitten licking his length and avoiding the tip to tease him,

“You like that, daddy?” you heard him groan from above you.

“Fucking…shit” his voice strained out, and your body swayed heavy as he frantically pulled his truck over to a heavily shaded area of the road.

You wince as Joel pulls the back of your hair, pulling you off him and flinging you onto your back, his body now laying between your legs.

You catch your breath, looking up at a seething Joel. Gold chain in your face as he looks you up and down,

“You ain’t runnin’ things here.”

he leans down and attaches his lips to your neck, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin as your hips squirm up to meet Joel.

“You’ve been a very—“ He sinks lower on your body as he kisses down, “Very bad girl.”

“I wanna be a good girl for you,” You plead, moaning as Joel’s large hands grip your dress and push it up past your head, flinging it to his backseat. Leaving you in nothing but panties and a bra.

“Then stop squirming,” He slapped the inside of your thigh, looking up at you as his dark eyes ravage the sight of you.

You moan out, hand reaching anywhere to grip as his lips meet the cotton of your panties, licking a strip up you center.

“mmm”

His groans loud from below you, pushing the only barrier between him and you to the side, and spitting on your cunt,

You jump slightly and moan at the sensation,

“Good girl,” hepraises as he starts licking you up and down, using his two fingers to hold you open,

Your hips swaying to find any type of friction as you moan his name out, looking at him alone was enough to make you come. His beard wet with your essence, the vibrations from his moaning making your body freeze with pleasure,

“Joel, please” you’re begging, for what, you don’t know. For something you know only Joel can provide.

“That’s it baby,” he encourages you as you begin to move your hips closer to his mouth, squirming to feel the friction of his nose against your clit,

“mmmm, —“ the sounds of Joel’s slurping getting you there,

You whine as you feel his lips leave your core, opening your eyes to see him being his hand to your face and force open your jaw,

“Wet my fingers, I know you know how” his voice like silk, demanding yet soft.

You do as your told, and once again receive his praises, “You’re being so good, darlin”

You squeal as you feel his finger enter you, and your eyes roll back as he starts his pulses while you watch him back to work.

“I wanna taste you baby. I want you to come on my fingers like a good girl. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

You nod in a frenzy, feeling his mouth suckle at your clit, and you whine is pleasure. A slew of curses mixed with his name release from your mouth as your body starts squirming in his arms. Orgasm making your legs feel like jelly.

“Fuck, fuck—joel”

“I got you baby. I got you. You did so well for me”

Your breathing is labored as you feel him pull away from you, grabbing your dress from his backseat.

-

There was only a few minutes left in your drive, but it felt like a lifetime. Joel smugly looking over to you as he watched you come back down to earth from your earth shattering orgasm.

“You good?” he looks to you as you feel the truck stop.

“Yeah—yeah. I’m fine. Just—“

“I know.” you feel his hand creep up to your thigh and squeeze,

His head moves to the right, making you follow his gaze. Shit. You were already home. How were you going to walk into the same house as your father and act like Joel Miller didn’t just wreck your life.

“Your dads not home yet.” As if Joel read your mind, you sighed with relief.

“When will I see you again?” you looked to him as you scooted closer to the door, prepared to run inside and take the well needed shower.

He let out a weighted sigh, looking over to you with tired brown eyes, letting silence fill the truck.

“Joel?” your voice more stern than before, which caught his attention.

Joel got out of his truck, walking over to your side of the car, opening your door and grabbing your hand to lead you out.

You looked up at him, noticing a look in his eyes. Almost noting it as guilt, maybe regret. Your stomach starts to sink.

Joel grabs your waist, pulls you in close, and places a soft kiss to your forehead,

“Soon.”