#ive never really thought about how long it takes me. like you'd think i can check the canvas information

[itsdefinitely]

How long does it take you usually to fulfill requests? They seem fairly detailed 🤔

i'll be completely honest, i don't really know! i mean, it depends on exactly what you mean. sometimes it takes weeks for me to even get to some requests with how my inbox is (the oldest one right now is from the very beginning of december, so sorry if you've been waiting that long!!), but from sketching to the finished piece varys greatly

my estimate is anywhere between 20-30 minutes to a few hours. i think there's only been a few times where it takes me multiple days, and thats usually when i start them right before going to bed

[whoahoney]

brothers best friend!Eddie reading your diary while he's balls deep inside of you.

Note: Surprise bitches. 😏 Idk if anyone's gonna read this, ive been on HIATUS 5ever, but this is something I wrote while recovering from dental work high as balls. I hope you enjoy! I'll edit further when my phones charged.

Warnings: smut (18+) minors DNI, slight humiliation kink, secret hookups, kinda fluffy 🫶🏻

------------------

It had been a couple months of your sneaky schemes, Eddie sleeping over and sneaking into your room to "chat" for a few hours after your brother fell asleep. You and Eddie had always been close, but finding your place amongst your brother and his friends could be hard sometimes. So for the most part, Eddie sought you out, finding you around the house to shoot the shit.

Neither of you could tell who started it, neither of you cared. All you know is that one night, he was on your bed, your legs in his lap, his hand on your thigh, the weed was good and your faces were achingly close to each other.

Neither one of you fought before giving in, it was natural as can be.

so of course you just

kept

going.

Since then, any time he could manage to make his way to your room (or walk in on you in the shower), he was there, ready to unbuckle his belt and bend you over.

He loved working in and out of you, setting a brutal pace for himself since he never knew how much time he had with you. He often fantasized about the day he'd be able to take his time with you. Simmering on the idea of massaging your pussy til it was slick and gaping for him, wondering if you'd let him lean forward and lap it all up.

You weren't quite sure what to make of it all, it felt like just another thing you two did together. At least that's how you assumed he felt. The usual glimmer in his eyes as he sauntered into your room never changed, regardless if he was asking for popcorn and a movie or seeing your tits.

You didn't really care, you just liked being around him.

and you quickly found out you were more than willing to do casual if that's what he wanted.

Often times after he left your room, you tried to write about it in your diary to make sense of it all. At first it was passive thoughts about your hang outs, wondering if it meant he saw you as a friend or something more, but ever since you started messing around, its all you ever write about anymore.

Details from the way he made you feel, how long his dick was, and your innermost feelings about him were all in there, no holds barred. You'd never imagined that he'd care enough to read it, let alone what he was about to do next.

He had you face down in a pillow, hand cradling the nape of your neck, your skirts flipped up and over your back, panties discarded in the knotted up bedsheets. You're panting, the air around you is thick and sweet despite the lingering cigarette smoke clinging to his person.

"Oh, I love seeing you like this," He says under his breath as he grabs a handful of your ass. "Face down, ass up, that sweet pussy spread open around my cock," He pressed deep inside you, trembling as he relishes the softness of your walls and you give him a sweet whine. "Shh--not so loud, sweetheart..." His hand found its way into your hair, winding it around his fist and pulling it taught. Your mouth opens with a silent gasp.

He looks to the left and spots the familiar leather bound diary you're always scribbling in, and with a sudden urge, he grabs it up.

He lets it fall open to the place where you left your pen clipped to the page, which happened to be the latest entry about him.

The way it feels when he's inside me... I crave it. I think about him all the time...

He smirked to himself, quickening his pace and pulling your face up to see the page he's on, "You like me so much,I made the journal-how cute.." He cooed into your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth, sending tingles down your spine, your fingers clenching the pillow til you knuckles turned white.

You were so lost in him that you couldn't even speak, your cheeks flaming with embarrassment as he read aloud, "His touch feels like electricity, he makes me feel alive..." He softly chuckled before letting his teeth graze against your neck and biting down and making you clench around him.

"His dick is so long and hard, it hurts sometimes, but I never want to tell him to stop or slow down, I'll take whatever I can get from him. It's so pathetic. I'M pathetic. But do I care??" He recites in his best impression of you as you hide away in the pillow, he chuckles to himself before remarking, "My dick makes you feel pathetic? tsk, aww..."

Then his eyes skimmed over a passage, and he slowed as he took the time to read it, "I want to be around him all the time. For more than these moments we manage to steal-but I don't know if he feels the same way... maybe it's just casual. Maybe he does this with a lot of girls." His heart swells in an unfamiliar way, a smile fighting its way onto his cheeks.

"You're too kind- really," he chuckles as he tosses it to the side. He lets go of your hair and brings both of his hands to your hips, pulling himself out almost completely before shoving back in with a grunt, his front slapping your ass.

"I don't have a diary, but I will tell you this-" He withdrew himself and flipped you over settling between your thighs before sliding in with ease. You inhaled sharply at the fullness, your chest heaving. He licks his lip before pulling up your shirt, freeing your breasts to bounce as he pleased.

"There isn't anyone else I'm doing this with..." He pressed his bare chest against yours, looking deep into your eyes. His fingers gently smoothed your hairline as he worked a slow easy pace in and out. "Right here, with you, is my favorite place to be..." He whispered, nose to nose- working himself in and out in and out at an agonizing pace that dragged on deliciously. "I love being with you in any way I can get it." He admitted into the darkness.

Your eyes are huge as he plants a kiss on your lips. You open your mouth and nudge his tongue with yours, wrapping your legs around his waist as he plunges in with fervor.

"Aww, my pussy makes you feel pathetic?" You quietly mock with a smile.

"Aw, that's my girl," He mumbles against you, his embrace tightening around your torso, and thrusts growing more and more eager as he chases his orgasm and yours.

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit - pt.iv

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi

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.

next chapter

[gatorbites-imagines]

Heyy!! I love your blog and writing sm!!! I was wonderomg if you'd write somethjng with top/dom reader where the reader gets godly aftercare as well.. we need to normalize giving doms aftercare!! and your writing is my greatest comfort, finally someone writes for other than petite fem readers <333

Nanami Kento x male reader

Headcanons

You never specified which character you wanted me to write for, so I just picked one I felt would give amazing aftercare. Also cuz I don’t think many people realize I write for jjk.

Sorry ive been gone for a bit, but to no one’s surprise, classes are exhausting.

There are different kinds of aftercare, so it all really depends on what kind of dynamic you and Nanami have, and what you are in need of after. Nanami being as aware and loving as he is, would have an easy time figuring out what you need.

There might be times where all you need afterwards if to be held or to hold him, to know that he’s there and that Nanami still loves you and that he liked it very much. He is also the kind of person to have set up the different snacks or drinks you could need afterwards.

Knowing Nanami, he would probably even have some kind of small fridge to keep the drinks in, if it’s a cold drink you need to help center yourself after a rougher scene. If it’s a hot drink you need, he would make sure you were alright before going to get it.

Nanami is an efficient man, so it wouldn’t take long before he’s back again, your favorite mug in one hand, and the latest book he has been reading. Sometimes its enough to just sit together as he reads and you sip on whatever drink it is you need, and other times you need to just be held. Luckily for you, Nanami is a big guy, so that can also be done with no issue.

If its been a rougher scene and you need more than just some cuddles and a snack, Nanami would also be very on top of that. There is no way he would let the love of his life feel inadequate or gross about yourself.

There might be times where you think you are a horrible person because of the scenes you two do, or because of how rough you were, which could result in you pulling away or even having dom drop. But Nanami won’t let you sink too far, always pulling you back out of that dark pit before it gets to swallow you whole.

If you needed to cry, there would be no judgement from your lover, and if you just need to be alone, he would let you do that too. But hes gonna be setting up a nice shower or bath for when you are feeling better again.

Nanami has also always been a very honest guy, and believes strongly in communication in a relationship. So if what you needed was verbal reassurance, or to know how he felt, what you did right and what you did wrong, he would give it to you.

Communication wouldn’t just be for you though, since he himself also enjoys talking it over, to make sure you guys are both on the same wavelength and enjoyed it an equal amount. Sometimes talking about it in a more strategic manner could help center you both, and stop any spiraling thoughts or feelings.

It also wouldn’t be beneath Nanami to want to give you a rubdown if you were feeling a bit sore and exhausted. Sometimes its as much for him as it is for you, since it gives him a sense of peace to know that you are there, and that you are comfortable.

He probably has a whole routine he goes through if you are feeling too drained to move, or if you are feeling under the weather. Like wiping you both down before you get into the bath together, where Nanami would lovingly wash your hair and then his own. This is also where he would make sure you both are fine physically, just in case.

Nanami would get out of the bath first, letting you just vege out for a bit, as he goes to clean up the bedroom and get some new sheets and pillows on the bed, and getting out some clean sleep wear for you both.

You may have been the dom/top, but that doesn’t stop Nanami from taking care of you, as its something he loves to do on any day of the week, and if you need it after you guys have spent the night together you won’t hear any complaints.

After getting everything ready, Nanami would go back to help you out of the water, dry you off, and get you into the clothes you are comfortable in, before you two shuffle back to your room. And of course, he’s put the good sheets on the bed.

You’ll get a nice soft blush from him if you compliment him and thank him for all his hard work. He loves taking care of you the most, but that doesn’t mean Nanami doesn’t enjoy being praised and loved on by you too.

All in all, Nanami would know multiple ways to do aftercare, and is perspective enough to figure out what you need before you do. He would also never judge you for any kind of care you might need, as making you comfortable and happy always makes his heart flutter.

[slvt4chrissturniolo]

the first time

warnings: lowercase intended, dry humping, palming, p in v, use of pet names, pain, clit rubbing, cumming in condom, not proofread

summary: y/ns and chris's first time having sex

authors note: this is my first time writing a long(er) fic! idk if it was any good so please tell me if not and how I could improve. I wanna know if you guys like fics these lengths or burbs more too, now get to reading ! ♡

you and Chris have been dating for around a couple months now, and you guys have gotten really close. you've been opening up, and doing things around him you'd only do alone in privacy. you guys have taken your relationship slow, but you've recently wanted to take it to a new level. you've wanted to get to know more of him, you wanted to reach a new level of intimacy you two have never experienced with him before. you wanted more than what you've have, you want all of him.

when you were cuddling with chris, watching a show you felt a need for him, a need you've never felt. you were laying next to him with his arm wrapped around you, but you wanted to lay under him. you zoned out thinking of what you wanted to do to him, and what you wanted him to do to you. he realized you were staring into his ocean blue eyes for a while so he paused the tv and he turned his head to yours. his thumb rubbed circles your forearm, making you feel at ease.

"what's wrong baby"

"oh nothing I just zoned out"

you lied, and he could tell. he looked into your eyes with love, and comforted you. he wanted to know everything, no matter if it was just a stupid little thought.

"tell me what's on your mind sweetheart"

you were embarrassed to say it out loud. you didn't even know how he'd react, or how he'd feel. you trusted him with your whole heart, and you knew you wanted this. although, you didn't know if he did.

"I want- uhm"

you felt so needy, you couldn't manage to get the words out your mouth.

"please can we- ..."

"You can tell me y/n, you can tell me anything"

you couldnt let the words release, it felt like they were in a cage, and they were begging to be set free. you brought your hand over the chris's sweatpants, and you started to play with the waistband. you looked into his eyes with lust. you slowly started to move your hand closer to his member, not wanted to do anything unwanted to him. you didn't want to push a boundary, or invade privacy. but the adrenaline started to rush through you. you felt a need in between your thighs. you started to look at him with submissive, puppy looking eyes, while desperately begging.

" please i- i- ive wanted to.. for a while ive wanted to-"

in a rush you started to feel around his tent. you looked away from his sparkling eyes, unaure of the outcome of what you just did. you felt your cheeks turned red as you watched chris's eyebrows eyes in shock. he didn't expect you to do that, but he was filled with bliss. ever since he laid his eyes on you, he's fantasized about you. he's never wanted to pressure you, but he's always wished for this moment. and although, he was flustered. chris nodded fast, and whispered yes please under his breath as he smashed his lips into yours. a wet patch on your underwear formed instantly when you felt him get rock hard. as the kiss deepened, you started to rub the tent on his sweatpants. he brought a hand to you face to cup your cheek.

your free hand ran to his scalp, you're fingers were running through his soft hair as his tounge was exploring your mouth. his hands then found thier way to your waist, they began to roam your sides. he gripped into your waist, digging his fingers into you. he pulled his lips away not long before lifting you up onto his lap. you immediately felt his big cock pulse, and throb under your heat. you started to grind on him, releasing little whimpers, his hands went to your hips to help you go faster, and give him more pleasure. you attached your arms around his neck, with his head resting on the headboard and mouth open in an O shape, you began to trace kisses all over his neck.

chris felt your boob's press against his chest, he needed to feel them in his hands, nothing with between the two of you. he grasped your shirt, and looked up at you for approval, you nodded and then he removed your shirt from your head. he couldn't take his eyes off of your tits, he was enchanted by them. he got so turned on by seeing them in a black lace bra. but he wanted more, so he grabbed the back of your bra and unclasped it. it fell off your arms and he was in love. seeing you this bare got him so worked up, his cock started to ache and hurt. you grasped his shirt, signaling for him to take it off. he pulled it over his head, and your hands began to roam his chest, not long before he grabbed your waist, and flipped you onto your back. you let out a whimper from the sudden movement. you and chris were holding eye contact, unable to stop staring at each other's dilated pupils. his lanky fingers covered the waistband of your pants, awaiting for your permission.

"please chris"

you were begging for him, youve been dreaming of this moment for so long. you've only seen him like this in your dreams, and he's only dreamed of you like this aswell. then his fingers began to loop around the waistband before he slid your pants off, he was quick, he need you just as much and you need him. you were wearing matching black lace panties, he loved your matching set. he's seen you in a bra and underwear, and you've seen him without a shirt on, but this all felt so different knowing what was to come. he took his time admiring you. this all didn't feel real to him, he was in a trance. he whispered little praises under his breath while brushing his hands over your waist, worshiping what's in front of him. he made eye contact with you before you watched his slide his sweatpants off, revealing his big hard member. it was bulging through his boxers, his boxers that didn't stay on for much longer. once they came off his cock sprung out, it was veiny and thick. you've had sex many times, but you knew this time would be different.

he held on to your hip with one hand, when the other was pulling your drenched panties to the side, showing him how soaked you are. he stared at your glossy pussy with a wide smile.

"shit ma.. you're so wet"

you whimper from his words, youve never heard him speak like that. he ran his fingers through your dripping folds, causing your legs to shake around his hips.

"can I take this off baby"

you nodded, then his hand on your hip let go, and he took your underwear off. his eyes filled with stars, in his eyes you looked like an angel. he ran his hands through his hair, unaware of how he got here.

"fuck.. You're gorgeous"

although he hates the feeling, chris prioritizes you more than anything, so he leaned over to open his bedside table to grab a condom. the light was hitting his shoulder blades just right, youve wanted to see him like this for so long now. he came back into you're vision, and looked through your eyes while tearing open the condom wrapper like a wild animal. he slid the ultra thin latex onto his enlarged cock, then pumped it a few times. his hands gripped into your shaking thighs, spreading then further. he held his base and lined himself up to your entrance.

"can i?"

"y- yes"

"tell me if it hurts baby, okay?"

"okay"

you looked up at him through your lashes as he rubbed his tip all over your wet pussy before pushing it inside you. you whine, and make a sour face from the feeling. chris leaned into you wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight in his arms. you put your arms around him, clutching onto his back. In a low and dry voice, he whispered in your ear.

"shh.. you're doing so good"

he was half way inside you, and you couldn't find the pleasure. you're eyes were screwed shut from the sharp pain in your stomach. one of chris's hands made their way up to your scalp. he began to kiss along your jaw, and run his fingers through your hair. his voice tickled your spine as he comforted you.

"are you okay mama?

you didn't wanna make his heart ache, you were holding in a scream and only let out a whimper.

"tell me when it feels good babe"

for minutes, you were laying In his arms. you felt a discomfort inside, but you've never felt safer against his touch. it felt like forever before feeling the pain leave. what once felt like stabs in your stomach began to feel amazing. you began to moan, and chris could tell you started to feel pleasure. he jerked his hips forward, pushing his whole length inside you, earning a loud and long moan from you. your nails scratched his back, leaving red lines. your eyes were shut, and your mouth was wide open.

"shh it's okay baby, I'm right here"

you started to ease up, and relax as you got used to his size. it felt unlike anything you've ever experienced. you felt every vain inside you, the feeling made your pussy clench

"mm it- f- feels so good chris"

you talked in between heavy breaths, you felt stuffed. he pulled his body away from yours and grasped your waist. he would slowly move his member in, and out of your sloppy ways. letting himself get coated in your slick, you were making a huge wet mess. whimpers, moans, and the sound his cock sloshing into your tight hole. you were continuously whining with your bottom lip in between your teeth, and eyebrows stitched together. chris wanted to see you fall to pieces.

he rubbed his fingers over your clit in circles, making your jaw drop. your vision was blurry and fuzzy. he looked down at you with a smirk on your face, he was so happy to know he good he could make you feel. his speed increased, his fingers worked faster, and he began to pound into you. the feeling was far too much, you couldn't handle being so overstimulated. a knot formed in your stomach, your eyebrows were pushed together. you clawed at his back, and ran your nails over his shoulders. you clenched around his dick, you let out a string of moans before letting words release from your mouth.

"c- chriss i- I'm gonna- cum"

your breathing was long and heavy, you felt as if you were gasping for air. chris continued to circle your clit, helping you fully reach your climax. you were both surprised at how you were about to cum, but you weren't complaining. you started to rub your boob's, and circle over your hardened sensitive nipples. the sound of skin slapping and moaning bounced off the walls .

"come on babygirl, cum around this cock"

with his words, you released all over his huge length. you heard a ring in your ears and your stomach was fuzzy. you squeezed your legs around his hips, hugging around them. he removed his fingers from you clit, he brought them over to hold you waist to stop you from squirming. your mouth would close, and your moans wouldn't stop either. you were a soaking moaning mess. chris kept pounding inside your cunt, spreading your sticky cum all over him. your shiny white cum leaked down onto the bed sheets, but he wasn't stopping to clean up. you looked up at him with blurry vision while biting your lip. you felt every drop of cum get drained.

chris was still chasing his high, abusing your pussy in doing so. his breath hitched, and you felt his dick twitch inside your pussy. he leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, held you in his arms while jerking his hips back and forth. he began to rub his balls with his fingers, rubbing his soft skin in circles. he let out a low groan next to your ear, then shot warm cum into the condom.

you felt his hot breath hike up the hair on your neck as he gasped for hair in your ear. the two of you stayed in each other's arms, in disbelief of the pleasure you guys just felt. your thoughts were foggy, you were unsure of what to do, or what to say. you rubbed his aching back, trying to calm his breathing.

"I- I love you chris"

"I love you more y/n"

a trail of kisses were left on your neck, sure to leave marks tomorrow. but you couldn't care less, youve never been this happy. you started to enjoy the silence, you never wanted this moment to end.

dividers by <3 @bernardsbendystraws <3

taglist <3 @sophand4n4 @luckysouls @iloveduckssm @mattsbug lmk if you wanna be added <3

[gamesetart]

In the Open relationship au at one point maybe Art actually asks her to help him out, he’s been aching so much since the talk with Patrick and seeing reader with Tashi didn’t help at all, so she gives him a hand (literally 🫣) and as he is close to reaching his high she makes him pray to god for forgiveness for that sinful act or else there’s no release 😩

ohhh wait yes

because art's been like this for a couple weeks now. needier than before, even after his composure started to slip. genuinely needy. waking up to his hard-on pressing into you, he's half-asleep and he's still needy, still gagging for it, because he just wants you so, so bad. and eventually, he caves. reasons it away to himself, thinks that it'll be alright if it's just your hand, that much he and his god can forgive him of.

you play off your immediate excitement. act concerned - is he sure? you don't want to take advantage of him, is he sure he really wants this? - and when he finally "persuades" you that yes, this is what he wants, you finally get to see his cock for the first time.

and it's pretty, a nice girth, long and very quickly going red at the tip. you were right, you think, he does flush all over. and you kneel in front of him, tell him he needs to spit on your hand so you can stroke him.

"you want me to... spit on you?"

"just on my hand, artie, right here."

he won't admit he enjoyed it, likes the idea of you so sweet and pliant he could spit on you and you'd take it - want it. but you feel his cock throb nonetheless.

he doesn't last very long, but you don't expect him to. you're on your knees, revert, beautiful, and he thinks for a moment about how much like prayer this is, how much like your god this would make him. it's a sinful, prideful thought, and he pushes it away in favour of bucking up into the warm, slick grip of your hand. he's never realised how wet things could be before, his cock rapidly leaking precum, leading to a mess of wet shlick, shlick sounds as you fuck him with your fist.

"fuck, fuck, oh god, baby, 'm close," he whines, "please--"

"don't ask me," you say, slowing your hand, drawing it out. "ask him."

you jerk your head up to the ceiling. he stares at you, eyes wide, cheeks flush, pupils blown, cock throbbing in your hand. even his balls twitch, as if to win your sympathies.

"you're being so bad, after all," you continue in a low voice, giving him a rough stroke, root to tip. your thumb swipes over his slit and he whines. "you should ask for a bit of forgiveness. tell him you're sorry, and ill let you cum."

like art isnt sorry every damn day. like he isn't plagued by sin every time he looks at you. he doesn't have to try to come up with the right words.

"f-forgive me, heav-- ah -- heavenly f-father," he chokes. "for i ha-ah-ve sin-sinned."

you resume your torturously slow hand job. all the breath leaves arts lungs in a single, shaking breath.

"i- i've had lustful feelings and--" his voice breaks. "god, oh, god-- ive been bad, ive been so bad, im so sorry, 'm sorry, im sorry, oh god, please, please, 'm sorry--"

it's like his brain is broken. he knows the words, but his mouth can't form them. he knows this prayer back to front. this very confession. but his tongue is tied, everything lost somewhere on the path from his head to his lips. it's exactly what you were looking for.

"that's a good boy. cum for me, artie."

and he does. all over your hand. his stomach. it's sort of beautiful. take that, you think vindictively. i made him like this. he's mine, now. im his fucking god.

[cheriladycl01]

Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader P11

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid

A/N: I feel like i haven't posted in so long because ive been stuck on this one chapter, and where the season isn't on right now i've distanced myself from F1 a little. I know this chapter is short but i fear its what i needed to get myself writing for F1 again.

You sat politely in the media pen, with a bottle of water before being directed next to Lando for a seat.

All of the media came in ready to start asking questions and interviewing you guys for the media panel.

It was the first race back for you where you’d actively talked to the media so it was a little nerve wracking knowing that you’d be asked if you were truly ready to come back or if it would be more beneficial for you to take some more time off and wait.

Having people like Lando was helpful as he was one of the people who checked up on you while you were out of races, he’d never spent prolonged periods of times away from the races when everyone else was racing so he didn’t actually know what it felt like.

But he of course wasn't Charles.

After your last conversation with the Ferrari driver he had become someone you thought about far too often for your own liking. He was constantly in the back of your mind and it was becoming very annoying.

And now that you were here, at a race and going to be back in the first time since your crash you saw him everywhere. And not just as a physical person, he was on the merch in the fan zone, and his face was plastered all over banners and every Ferrari you saw drive through the streets had you holding your breath wondering whether it could be him.

It never was, strangely since arriving on the Tuesday you never saw him. You couldnt really tell what would be better though. A large part of you wanted to see him, yell at him, hug him and be comforted by him. Another part of you just really wanted to ignore him and forget he even existed.

But at the end of the day, yours and Charles relationship in the short time you knew one another had been chaotic to say the least with everything that had gone on in your first season in F1.

Drive to survive could most likely do a whole series just on you this one season and all the scandals that had arose.

"Y/N? It's great to see you here" the interviewer smiles kindly at you, you give a polite nod back raising the mic up to your face.

"And it feels great to finally be back after all this time" you grin, putting on the face people wanted to see.

"Yeah? Do you feel like you've given yourself enough time away to heal. Do you feel confident getting back in the car?" he asks and you nod, head tilted to the side in a thoughtful way.

"I do. I think all drivers will agree that when something sets you back you pretty much everything to get back to where you were at. A lot set me back this year and i feel better than ever and get back to what I know which is the racing" you answer with a small smile.

"It's crazy how quickly the body can recover and mentally how you can come back from something like that" he praises and you nod, not sure if it was a question or not.

"It's obviously different because the stakes are higher, but if you had an accident in your workplace im sure once you've healed you'd go right back to the job in a muscle memory way with a little more caution at the back of your mind" you explain.

He moves on asking questions to the other drivers meaning you were free to zone out and look around calming your mind for the weekend ahead.

After what felt like hours too you, the panel ended and you were dismissed back to the garage. You had a snack before wondering around looking at the car and getting a feel for it. Every weekend you had been here and not driving, just looking at the data had you itching to get back in the car.

Now that you were here you wanted to sit back in the car. You hopped in to the cockpit your hand running round the halo as you slip your feet down. It felt weird being sat in the car in your team gear and not in the racesuit, but just holding the wheel and checking all the buttons were still in the same place as when you'd left, which looking back on after you'd checked you felt silly.

"Feeling ready for the actual test tomorrow?" Alex asks coming over from his side of the garage, having been watching you for the last 5 minutes wondering if too bother you or not.

"Mmmm? Oh yeah i think so, just a lot on my mind" you say looking up at the boy who'd become like an older brother too you.

"You're gonna be just fine. You'll prove them all wrong" Alex grins and you cock your head to the side in confusion.

"I don't even know who i have to prove myself too anymore. I- just wanna drive with no expectation but i cant really do that here can i" you laugh a little bit.

"I mean, you could. Not sure how long you'd have this job for though" he jokes and you nod.

"Mmmm yeah i guess i should try. Maybe we can even gets some points tomorrow. I do feel like i've let you all down"

"You haven't, you've been healing and having a difficult time from ... what Lily's told me" he admits slowly your head shooting out to look at him.

"Sh-she told you?" You ask.

"Yeah, I know that you didn't want her to, don't take this oiut on her but she was worried about you going into this weekend and seeing him after what happened and i just wanted to let you know i am here for you and always will be. Whatever you need, an escape, a hug, a tow. I am more than just your teammate okay?" he explains rubbing your shoulder, tears filling up your waterline as you look up at him, before you head flops againt his arm.

"Thank you Alex" you sniff.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[vaguesxrrow]

can u plsss write one about charles with an american reader? like the inspo is the olivia rodrigo song so american lol. like maybe him making fun of her accent and her doing the and back and like the differences between the two cultures?

ACTUALLY INSANEEE bc right before seeing this i was singing that song in my head (i dont listen to olivia but i probably should tbh). alsoo i wasn't sure if you wanted a fic or hcs, so i kind of made a 2 in 1. hope you dont mind! xx

a/n: im not american nor british and ive never been to the usa or the uk... so excuse any inaccuracies pleaseee

tags: g!n reader, american!reader, alive!reader

you shivered and exhaled sharply, your breath misting out in front of you. the moment you stepped outside, you knew you should have piled on more layers, but edwin had been eager in whisking everyone out the door to carry out an investigation for your current case.

you burrowed closer to charles. obviously, he couldn't provide any real body heat, but being near him was a boost in morale to keep going despite the temperature.

"alright?" he asked, putting an arm across your shoulders.

"i should've put on more layers," you grumbled.

charles laughed as he kissed the top of your head. "you can have my jacket."

shaking your head, you declined. "it's fine, it's not that cold. and besides, i wouldn't want to strip you of your british glory and your british coat."

charles snorted. "so it's my british glory, now? who was the one making fun of my accent literally just yesterday?"

"litch-rally," you parroted, grinning. "why is it that all your t's turn into ch's?"

"hey, you're one to talk - what is it you were ordering at the restaurant yesterday? a glass of wa-der, was it?"

"bite me, charles."

he raised his jacket up and engulfed you with it in a bear hug. you shrieked with laughter and wriggled in his hold, but didn't protest when he demanded you hold your arms out so he could put the jacket on you.

"what are you, a soccer player? i thought i was your [boy/girlfriend/partner], not your competition," you teased.

"soccer?" he mocked, outraged. "soccer? it's football, mate."

"mate?" you scoffed incredulously, although you were smiling. "way to friendzone me after months of dating."

"oh, come on, you know you could never get rid of me." charles pulled you in again, this time by your hand. "and for the record, you look cute wearing my clothes."

a few beats of silence, in which you two looked at each other with similar expressions of fondness and exasperation.

"yeah, okay, now get away from me, you victorian fossil." you shoved him playfully, and sprinted away to catch up with the other three. niko waved you over, giggling at charles, who was jogging to keep up.

"victorian fossil? i grew up in the 80s!" he exclaimed. "you know this!"

⌦ ---

- you do know very well that charles grew up in the 80s - you frequently ask him what it was like back then, because naturally, you'd take an interest in your boyfriend's life

- however, charles loves how you're genuinely interested, and get how watching times change can feel a bit lonely for him sometimes

- you're a great listener when it comes to this (which you think you should be greatly accredited for; charles' good looks can be very distracting at times)

- imagine: you and charles in your room as he looks around, inspecting the decor you have on display as he rambles about life in the 80s

- he tells you about a huge movie premiere he went to:

- charles: "get this, right - a ridiculously long line outside the movie theatre. the weather is absolutely miserable, and so are the people. no one's talking at all. i think everyone was just hungry - i saw this lady have tea delivered.

- you: 'i keep forgetting you have stuff like tea times. and did everyone really have the patience to wait for that long, in silence?'

- charles, with a fake american accent: yeah, dude. in silence.

- you throw a pillow at him.

- you also like telling hilariously bad jokes relating to his accent

- you: psst. charles.

- he turns towards you, already expecting another jab at his british-ness

- you: what day do british people eat the most?

- charles, in a deadpan: what day.

- you: chewsday, innit-

- he yells 'NOPE' and walks through the wall, leaving you to wheeze-laugh on your own

[bucketspammer4life]

what i think your favorite PO boxer says about you

based on my biases and a year of experience (if you get mad over how i talked about your fave im going to turn you into a can of spam)

first time ive ever maxed out the tags

if i missed your fav tell me ‼️

doc louis - you have good taste and are starving for content about him, you really are a survivor

little mac - you either project onto him or just like calling him your son

glass joe - you have a thing for pathetic men (understandable tbh) and like calling him a wet cat since he fits that desc well

von kaiser - same thing as joe but add a hint of "oh no hes hot"

disco kid - you literally have no enemies i love you so much its not even funny (platonic)

king hippo - my god you are good at making up lore, how the fuck do you make a solid personality for a character that only roars and grunts

piston hondo - im 100% youre a saint, no hondo fan i met has ever been unpleasant to talk with

bear hugger - you either see him as a father figure or just think hes hot or (secret third option) you like making jokes about him being a disney princess, either way youre cool

great tiger - oh you have been here for a long time, literally every great tiger fan i know has been in the fandom since 7.000 BC or something, also youre prob really good at art

don flamenco - you use the word "cunty" on a daily basis or just like making fun of his stupid bald head, also yes he has eyeliner on 100%

aran ryan - you'd overthrow a goverment for this greasy rat, youre extremely extremely gay and/or neurodivergent and thats very good for you, you also like making him say lad and have had to go ankle deep in irish slang when making him speak in fanfics

soda popinski - ive never seen someone have soda as their fav, hes always 2nd place somehow so im just gonna go take a shot in the dark and say you like the color pink (mental gymnastics who??)

bald bull - you are a mixed bag, i gen cant put a finger on what kind of personality bull stans have but i can say you either find him hot or like making fun of him, maybe both

super macho man - least serious people ever with some traumatizing lore for the boxers & their own ocs, you prob make him say bogus 88268292 times in a sentence and i can respect that

mr sandman - ive only seen 2 (two ) ppl who have him as their fav and its kinda sad, youre starving for content of him and i wish you the best

birdie mac - hes your son (im not elaborating)

gabby jay - same thing as joe but you went over the top with liking dilfs

narcis prince - gay. gay gay homosexual gay. you went for the self obsessed blonde twink and you thought it wasnt obvious?? you fucking homosexual

heike kagero - youre 1000% queer, sorry to be a broken record about the gay thing but ur fav is literally a man with long hair & makeup that has to be some flavor of queer

hoy quarlow - you are/were another ancient punch out fan, you def shitpost a lot

bruiser bros - where are you??? ive gen never met a bruiser bros fan and its concerning like dude where did u go

texas mac - im sorry but you dont exist, ive never ever seen a texas mac fan, not even someone who mentions him

mad clown - you foul clownfucker. you have weird taste in characters you find hot and tbh im all here for it

masked muscle - same thing as texas mac but theres a slight chance you exist, if you do please show yourself

dragon chan - another punch out ancient fan, you probably were most active in 2013-2019 and kinda miss old shitposts and have either moved on or dont participate much anymore

spo aran - (this is mostly for Charlie but i have hope that theres some other spo aran fans out there) youre probably looking for other spo aran fans, goodpeed soldier, goodpeed

mask x - you arent getting away with this fuck you

[da-rulah]

I have a lyric ask!!! This is so fun! (Sooo many to choose from!)

“You'd never want me to appear

You'd never want it to be over”

NSFW with Copia, Papa IV or Secondo please!!!!

Oooh I love this song so much. I'm gonna hit you with a little bit of angst, here... 😏

NSFW, MDNI! copia x f!reader

TW: Angst, breakups, aftermath of a breakup, emotional sex, unprotected sex, pentrative sex.

Staying away from him was killing you. But you knew this was for the better, with his ascension to Papacy he merely did not have the time nor the energy to give you what you needed anymore. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt. It didn't mean you didn't miss him, crave him, love him still - every day.

It was killing Copia, too. He'd let you go without much of a fight, understanding your need for more that even he wasn't sure he could give you now. Still, he was drawn to you like a magnet. He didn't have time, but he made enough of it to check in on you, to watch from afar and torture himself constantly in between his meetings and various responsibilities.

He couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't be apart from you and watching how you went about your daily activities with such a sadness lingering over you, he was so sure you were struggling with this too.

One evening, you found yourself on clean up duty after dinner service, scrubbing at the banquet tables in the dining hall long after the last siblings had wondered off to bed. You were taking your time, mulling over your heartache in peace while you scrubbed at the surfaces.

As deep in thought as you were, you hadn't heard his footsteps on the stone floors. He wanted to speak, to garner your attention but words failed him. Everything he'd practised over and over in his head seemed so foolish now you were here, in front of him.

It wasn't until you stood upright to clean your sponge in your bucket of soapy water that you noticed him, and jumped out of your skin when you did. The sponge flew from your hand, and you stumbled back against the edge of the table you'd just scrubbed clean.

"Mi scusi, I... I didn't mean to frighten you," he reached out for you, but thought better of it, his hands turning to fists, leather gloves squeaking as he retracted his arms. "I don't know why I came, I know you don't want to see me."

Your heart broke all over again, his gaze full of shame burning holes into the floor beneath him willing it to open up and swallow him alive. You had seen him around with his new face paints, new outfits. He didn't look like himself anymore, and yet, underneath it all he was still very much the same man you loved. It ate you alive to see him so grief-stricken.

But you had no words of consolation for him, nothing to comfort him. You didn't know why he was here either, but a part of you was glad he was.

"I had to see you," he said weakly.

"Papa..." you started, but the title felt foreign to you. You even caught his wince.

"I don't want this to be over," he whimpered, looking up to meet your eyes. Only now could you see the tears gathering there. "Do you?"

"I-I... I just don't know how it can-"

"Do you want this to be over?" he asked again, taking a step towards you desperately. He was so close to you, towering above you as he searched your eyes for an answer when you failed to give one immediately.

"...no," you admitted. Of course you didn't, you never wanted that. Not really...

Copia didn't even think, there was nothing stopping him. He grabbed at your waist, pulling you close to him and crushing his lips to yours as if it were his last. For all he knew, it could be. If he couldn't kiss you, he wouldn't be kissing anybody. You were it for him, you always had been.

His kiss knocked the wind out of you, and having already been unsteady on your feet as you leaned back against the edge of the table, you have to grip onto his waistcoat just to stay upright. He thought you were going to push him away, but instead, you only pulled him closer.

His hips pinned you to the table, his hands so large and strong on your waist to hold you tightly against him. Immediately, everything you'd ever felt for him rushed through you, and you couldn't remember why you ever thought being apart from him was for the best.

"I'll... I'll make it work... I swear," he promised between kisses. All you could do was nod, chasing his lips to make up for lost time. You had no idea how, but you had to try. you couldn't bear this separation any more.

Neither of you could think straight as the seconds passed, just needing each other as close as possible. Copia couldn't help the way his hips rutted against you, how his hands grabbed at your hips and his cock swelled beneath his trousers. You couldn't help the soft moans that left your lips, how your hands wove into his hair, how your thighs spread to accommodate him.

Before long, he was pushing you to sit properly on the edge, lifting the skirt of your habit up past your knees and bunching it around your hips. You frantically tugged at the laces that held his tight trousers together, losing your mind while Copia's lips trailed down your neck. There was no time for pleasantries, frankly you needed each other immediately.

You rolled his pants down just enough past his ass, letting his length spring free. You spat into your hand before taking his length in it, lathering him up knowing that the arousal between your thighs wasn't growing as fast as the need to feel him again. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning at the feeling.

Copia gripped the underneath of your thighs, lifting them to wrap your legs around his waist. You took the hint, letting go of his length and pulling your underwear to one side to give him access to your core. For good measure, he spat into the palm of his glove and lathered himself again, before running his fingers once through your folds and stepping in closer.

You pulled him back down to you for a kiss, and as you did, he slowly pushed inside you, savouring every moment. His jaw went slack, interrupting your kiss as the two of you took in a deep breath, his groan harmonising with your own moan when he had nothing left to fill you with.

Given a moment to compose himself, his hips started to rock into you, slowly building up a pace until his thrusts were frantic. It was as if he as scared you'd disappear again, and all he could do was hold onto your hips with the tightest grip as he derived pleasure for the both of you.

You pressed your foreheads together, both of you stabilising yourselves that way and maintaining intense eye contact. Already, pleasure was building inside you like your body had given itself over to it, to him.

"P-Papa..." you whined.

"No... Don't. Don't call me that," he practically sobbed. "Copia to you. Just Copia." You nodded, pulling him into another kiss.

Truthfully, you believed him. He was just Copia, still your Copia. Had he struggled to balance his time when he'd gained the title? Absolutely, but maybe you'd been hasty, already too hurt to give it a fair go. He deserved another shot; you both did.

Copia slid his hand between you both, using the tips of his fingers to draw circles over your clit to get you to your climax quicker. He knew he wasn't going to last long, his emotions far too intense to have the energy to stave off his undoing. But being selfish has got him in this mess, ignoring you was the reason he'd lost you - whether that was his fault or not, he wouldn't let that happen again.

Before long, both of you were on the edge, ready to climax together. The frantic kisses you shared ended when he held your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him.

"I need you here..." he panted, "Need you with me." Tears spilled over your waterline and you bit your lip to stop the sob, gripping his wrist.

"I'm here, I'll stay," you promised, just as your orgasm began to rip through you. You cried out, grip on him tightening. you'd have thrown your head back if Copia wasn't holding your chin still, watching you let go beneath him as he tried to stop himself too. To no avail, of course.

Copia came inside you with a growl, hips stuttering as he filled you. His cock kicked inside you, shoving you from your orgasm ebbing away into a state of oversensitivity but you let it happen, watching through hooded eyes as Copia fell victim to his climax.

It took a little while for you both to come down, heavy breathing slowly returning to normal as you held each other. Copia started to pepper gentler kisses to your neck and jawline until he regained enough emotional strength to look you in the eye.

"Come home with me tonight..." he invited, his paints running with tears and a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Okay," you told him shakily. Visibly, the weight from his shoulders lifted. You saw him relax, watched as his fear of rejection melted away. You had no idea how badly this had been affecting him, how willing he was to make it work.

He never wanted to do this without you. Becoming Papa should have been the single biggest achievement of his life, and he wanted you there to celebrate it with him. But the work had got in the way, and the celebration had been short lived. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

He'd never neglect you again.

[fackeraccount]

hi I’m not sure if I’m doing this right because I did read your request rules thingy and I hope I’m not crossing any boundaries but I was wondering if you could write for zayne a miscommunication troupe,you could have the creative freedom of choosing whatever but I’m a sucker for angst where they have to fight to get us back type of stuff lol ! if you see this I hope you’re having a good day and if you write this then thank you so much !!

Yes ofc I can! I'm not really an angst girlie but I'll try my best!!

Pairing: Zayne x Gn reader

Tw: Miscommunication, angst, fighting, blood, wounds, concussion, hospital, will they stay together?, break up?, mentions of y/n

There was a constant beeping noise ringing in your ears. The noise was loud but familiar and you realized it was a heart monitor meaning you were in the hospital.

You opened your eyes, squinting through the harsh light. You brought your hand up to block out the light only the feel something in your arm. Looking down, you saw a small tube which lead to an IV bag to your side.

Looking back up, you saw a nurse moving around. She was checking your vitals when she looked up, seeing you awake.

She smiled and said, "Oh, your awake. I'll go call Dr. Zayne for you,"

She left pretty quickly and you sighed. Getting injured is normal but the real problem was Zayne wasn't informed about the mission and now you come to the hospital with a large wound on your side and a concussion.

Zayne stepped through the door, and you could immediately tell there was something wrong. His eyes held no warmth in them anymore and you could tell that this was the inevitable consequences of your actions.

"Are you feeling any pain on your left side or your head?" Zayne spoke, his tone professional, as if you were a mere patient.

"No," You answered, "I can tell it's there but I can't feel it."

"Mhm, that's good. The pain killers are still in effect," He replied while changing you IV bag.

"Alright, you're all good. I'll come check on you later."

Before you could reply, he left, not speaking to you at all.

For the next few days, it continued like this. Zayne would come check on you twice a day but always acted like he didn't know you besides being a patient.

The week after, you were discharged and put on house rest by the doctors so you sat at home, doing absolutely nothing. You just said at home for that week, cleaning up everything you left while on your mission.

You thought about why Zayne would ignore you, I mean, you understood that you forgot to tell him about your mission but he wouldn't ignore you for weeks because of that.

That mission of yours really was dangerous to do on your own but you did.

It was a three day long mission to kill wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon city.

You had fought until one had snuck up on you from behind and slashed you side. You quickly finish them off before the blood loss made you sluggish. Soon after though, you fainted and hit you head on a rock, leaving you with a concussion.

You heard your phone ring from your room while you were cleaning up, bringing you out of your thoughts. You stood up and walked towards your phone and answered without looking at the call ID.

"Hello?"

"Y/n"

"Oh, Zayne! How are you?"

"I'm fine, I just need to tell you something"

"And that is?"

"Well, I think you and I should take a break"

"Wait what? Why?"

"Clearly, I'm not trustworthy enough for you to tell me about you missions but Xavier is"

"Xavier? I just needed someone to take care of my house so I just asked him before I left"

"See that's the thing. You don't tell me about a mission and I find you in the hospital. I realized that you were gone so I came to your house to check on you. Come to find out, he was holding it and knew about your mission."

"Zayne-"

"Let me finish. I know that he's your partner but what if you never came back? What if you'd d-died on that mission? Would I ever know? Think"

"Oh" He was crying, you could hear the small sniffles and the hitch in his voice.

"Yea, so I need to step down and maybe once you've fixed your issues we can try to fix this but you've broken my trust in you. If this continues like this, one day, I'll find out your... dead by someone else without even knowing you left"

As soon as he said that he ended the call. You stood there, frozen, tears streaming down your face without you realizing it.

Zayne had broken up with you and it was all your fault. Your knees buckled and you fell to the ground crying. The tears flooded down your face and you couldn't do anything to stop them.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! It's all your fault! You have no one to blame but yourself!"

You insulted yourself all day crying, and screaming, but that wouldn't bring Zayne back.

The rest of the week, you spent crying, curled in your bed, barely standing up to eat. Soon enough, you heard a knock on your door.

Standing up sluggishly, you walked towards your door and opened it to see Zayne. He walked in and closed the door behind him.

"Oh. Why are you here?" You asked.

"I came to apologize, I blamed you without even letting you explain and I'm sorry. I jumped to conclusions," he answered.

You sighed and spoke, "No, you were right, I broke your trust, but you also broke mine. I forgot to tell you and I understand that, but you can't just jump to conclusions. So, no we won't get back together until you can trust me again, and I can trust you. Right now, we're just friends again."

He nodded, "I understand that. I just came to apologize first."

He left and you closed the door, sighing.

The next few weeks, Zayne kept doing anything to fix that broken trust. He first took you out twice a week, sent coffee to your office every morning, and even sent you flowers.

You knew he was trying and honestly, it was working. Even though you were still hurt, he was trying and that's all that mattered to you.

Part 2?? Maybe, maybe not 😝

[08melancholie]

Heyy i know u don't usually write about Kieran but i literally cannot stop thinking abt him rip..... if u want to i'd be absolutely overjoyed to see ur take on some sweet stuff with him, like how he'd react to the reader taking him out for a date night and essentially spoiling the shit out of him. I'm talking fancy restaurant, nice bath, warm bed, a massage and lots of praise (maybe even a .. "special reward" if u wanna write that 🤭) . Might even be fun to see how you'd write other characters in this scenario! Especially Arthur and maybe even Micah :3

thank you so much!

-🥐

omgomg yes. i literally love kieran like a little brother ive never had. he is all too precious to me and i miss him dearly </3

I absolutely can do Kieran and Micah.... got a long night ahead of me so I have the time🫦 (doing gn!reader btw)

wasn't gonna include "special reward" related hcs at first butttt.... i couldn't help myself. ill put a little marking for when the nsfw part comes up. was gonna do arthur but id totally write him ooc, sorry :(

Kieran

SFW

Definitely assumes you're trying to tease him at first, telling him the entire plan of pampering the life out of him just to laugh in his face. Wouldn't be the first time someone's teased him this way, so he'd be quite wary about who he trusts and whatnot in camp.

Realises you're being serious after you get agitated with him and tell him you're serious for the millionth time, then gets mildly nervous about going out alone with you. He's very appreciative of the thought, and will thank you more times than generally necessary.

"What? You.. you serious? Oh, naw.. I couldn't possibly—well, it's rude to turn it down..."

First stop; General store. You get him much better quality boots and he thanks you profusely. He feels bad about asking, but simply can't leave without buying Branwen a little treat; an apple or rice cake, nothing too much. Splits it in half when you exit the store and let's you feed your half to his horse, who is definitely a fan of the chin scratches you offer afterwards.

Followed up by a few quick drinks, some hope that a little alcohol in your bodies will help you both loosen up a bit, more-so Kieran who is still skittish.

Beers to start with a shot whiskey both.

Kieran scrunches his face slightly and you call him a wimp. This has him pouting at you; Which is adorable.

He's somewhere between a lightweight and a 'normal' drinker, but four beers seems to already make him a bit giddy and much more relaxed, much to your liking

Next, you're dragging him across the street to get yourselves both a room in the hotel and a bath. Instant flashback to John calling him a stinky O'Driscoll. </3

Minimal protest from Kieran, but he lets you do your thing.

You buy the bath for yourselves first and the room for later. You pay and lead Kieran to the reserved room. Locking the door after him and yourself, you lean on the door and wait for him to get in.

"What—in.. in front of you? You... can't exit for a minute.?"

You can't tell if he's getting red in the face from the alcohol consumption or current situation he's in. Either way, you think it's cute.

NSFW

He doesn't know if it's smarter to quickly strip and jump into the water, or to go slowly; you're staring at him either way.

He opts for a medium pace, very carefully handling his new boots and peeling his shirt off first. He's a bit scrawny and more pinkish than tan, light strawberry skin. He has minimal scarring on his body, nothing too serious.

His pants follow and he starts to nervously fumble with the restrains by now, feeling you still looking at him and eyeing every action he takes. He lets his trousers drop and follows with his drawls. You've probably never seen someone drop their underwear so quickly. He instantly jumps into the bath to keep himself at least partially decent—even after you've seen everything already.

He really enjoys higher temperature water since you can't much afford warm baths like these, so he's being very thankful as he basks in the soapy, hot water in front of you.

You lean off the door and walk to the bath. You fold and put his clothes away before rolling your sleeves up and sitting on the edge of the the tub behind him; like the bath girls do it. You've seen it enough times to know what to do.

You purposefully dip your hands very close to his thighs, sides and arms, throughly enjoying each and every time he squirms or grumbles a little whiny noise from inside his chest.

You rub his entire body, no crevice left untouched by your hands. It might be the hot water he's been soaking inside of, but you can feel just how much warmer his skin is with every touch of your hands caressing his whole frame.

You work your way from his shoulders down his torso, ask him to lift his legs and do those—all up to his stomach where you instead stand up, walk a few steps and lean over the tub.

You make sure to brush just barely out of reach when going over his stomach. He can't help throatily whining again, his head leaning back in frustration. This goes on for a few more minutes until you've physically touched every part of him—all but one very active part.

You got him a mess in the bathtub; sweating, whining, giving you pleading eyes. It's a goddamn sight that has you wanting to sling him over your shoulder and carry to your reserved room instantly.

"You can't just do all'a that... Don't be mean.."

You let him soak in his uncomfortableness for a good few minutes, watching him switch between pleased from the nice bath water to squirmy from lack of caring for his little problem.

"Please, don't leave me like this..."

God, those eyes could get you to do anything. You've never stumbled into a hotel room so quickly, having instantly gotten him decent and practically dragged him out of the baths.

Focused on him the rest of the night, doing anything he (silently) asked for and just putting your own, aching need aside for the time being

Micah bonus <3

SFW

Instantly declined at first, grumbling something about not needing your charity. Instantly agreed when you mentioned drinks at the saloon.

"Guess it wouldn't hurt, would it?"

You get him into town and start off in the gun store, obviously. You let him pick out three upgrades to his revolvers since you know he won't buy any new ones, he only ever really uses his own guns.

He's very satisfied, turning his guns in his hands and inspecting them with the new additions you got him.

You lead him towards the saloon next, for the promised drinks.

He drinks your wallet out with ease, shot after shot and he isn't even near drunk yet, comfortably tipsy at most.

You settle for two beers for yourself, and he teased you about the situation again.

"I'm on my fifth whiskey and you're still only drinking beers? Hah!"

You slap his shoulder and continue to drink, wanting to get to the best part rather quickly.

He downs his last whiskey and his empty glass settles next to your empty bottles, both of you leaving.

"What, a bath? That what you think I'll like?"

He's skeptical but agrees, might be nice to enjoy himself a bit more. And he probably stinks.

You get him inside and watch the smirk on his face when you buy a bath—and a room for later.

"Getting bold on me, are 'ya?"

You lock the two of you inside the bathroom and gesture for him to strip. You're still looking, and it just makes him laugh while slipping his coat off and placing his hat on a nearby table.

He doesn't mind you watching, it just grows the sly smile on his face furthermore.

He gets his naked body into the water and lets out a little "oooh" noise, his white eyelashes fluttering with his eyes as he takes in the bordering perfect temperature, relaxing into the tub behind him.

You watch him get in, blissful look on his usually grumpy face. He watches you with a smirk, asking if you'll be joining—joking about it, obviously.

NSFW

You leave him to enjoy the water for.. maybe three minutes, before you can't help yourself anymore.

His eyes go from lidded and content to wide and surprised, lips parted as he watched your undershirt get unbuttoned, revealing skin little by little.

He's very quick to compose himself, comfortably watching you strip yourself fully bare.

You manage to surprise him a second time by dipping yourself down on his abdomen, and the grin on his face just widens, his chuckle echoing through the bathroom.

"You're reeeally going all out on me tonight, huh?"

His hands quickly find your sides and, assuming consent, he starts touching up your entire form; waist, hips, thighs. He rubs his fingers up to the underside of your chest, your lower and upper back.

"'Ya know, you've taken real good care of me tonight, and I'm feelin' generous; let's return the favour, yeah?"

And that he without a doubt did; officially having no use for the room you bought anymore.

The tables get turned on you and he's quick to initiate some good ole bathtub intimacy.

That's the story of how you got banned from the hotel in Valentine because of a noise complaint. Multiple noise complaints. And a high water bill.

i love cowboys <3

[anacamofficial]

i dunno if you're gonna write smut or not ( no pressure bcs if not like i totally get it ) but maybe a lil fic where reader and bsf!rafe are watching a movie but he finally admits he doesn't just wanna be friends.. ? if you dont do smut you could easily make it suggestive instead !! ( you dont have to take this req, just thought i'd help ur writer's block )

I am gonna do smut, Im actually working on a longer one right now!! And I love this idea, sorry it took me a while to get back to it, Ive been doing school work.

Cw: p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, I think that's all but lmk

bsf!rafe x y/n

The Kissing Booth

you and your best friend rafe cameron were having your weekly movie night together, and you had somehow convinced him to watch The Kissing Booth with you though you weren't really sure how. you were laying with your head on his shoulder and his arms around you as you often did, you didn't really think anything of it because you guys had been this close for as long as you both could remember. even though you secretly had a crush on him you could never even think that he would like you back. he had never had a girlfriend before because he much prefered casual hookups or so you thought.

as it got to the part in the movie where elle is at the kissing booth facing her crush you start to ramble on about how cute the scene is and how you wished you could have a relationship like that. rafe looked at you with admiration as you rambled on and then before you knew it his lips were colliding with yours in a slow, passionate kiss. before you had time to process what was happening he was already pulling away.

"y/n," he said softly "i like you, like a lot"

"rafe, i-" you barely got out before he interupted you.

"no actually i love you y/n. i've always loved you. all those random hookups were always just a distraction-" he said before getting cut off by the feeling of your lips on his.

"i love you too rafey" you said softly as you pulled away from the kiss. feeling a coldness on your lips from missing the heat of his, though this feeling didn't last long because before you even finished your sentence he was pulling you up onto his lap and connecting your lips once again. this kiss was deeper, more sensual and filled with want.

you found yourself tugging at the hem of his white t shirt to signal to him that you wanted it off. he broke off the kiss long enough to get his shirt off and tossed it to the floor.

"can i?" he asked gently motioning to the little pink cami you had on.

"y-yeah, of course", you stuttered out. flushed from seeing him shirtless, i mean yeah sure you'd seen him shirtless before at the beach or at the pool but here and now was completely different and you were taking it all in. his hands worked to get your shirt off and you slowly started grinding on his lap

"ohh fuck" he let out in a low groan, and you felt his hard on getting bigger underneath you as his hands moved to sit on the top of your ass slowly guiding your hips. he moved his hands up to wrap around your waist as he picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist, walking the two of you over to your room and setting you on the bed as he stripped off his pants. walking over to you and and taking off your tiny matching pink shorts, leaving you in only your lacy bra and panties.

"you're so perfect y/n," he mumbled to you. "are you sure you want this?" he questioned, never wanting to push you into anything.

"yes, i'm positive rafe" you replied as your hands went to the waistband of his boxers teasing him slightly.

he pushed you back on the bed pulling you into another deep and needy kiss as his hands worked to remove your bra and panties and then his boxers, his cock springing up to hit his abs. he deepened the kiss further, one hand behind your head pulling you in and the other one working its way down to your core. he slid his fingers up and down your slick folds bringing your wetness up to rub circles on your clit. you moaned into his mouth and he moved his lips down to your neck kissing, sucking and nipping making sure to leave marks so everyone knew you were his now.

you moaned his name as he slipped in one finger, thumb rubbing your sensitive bud.

"yeah you like that princess? I love it when you moan my name like that." he groaned out, slipping in another finger and increasing his pace.

"shit rafe that feels so good" you forced out in between moans and whimpers, throwing your head back onto the pillows you squeezed your eyes shut getting lost in the pleasure.

"you gonna cum on my hand baby?" he questioned and grabbed onto your jaw making you look back at him. "eyes on me princess, i wanna watch you"

"oh fuck rafey, i'm so close.." you screamed out bucking your hips at his hand to reach that spongy spot. rafe chuckled and stuck in a third finger increasing his pace even more and pulling you into a kiss. you moaned and whimpered out his name as you came on his hand and he continued to finger you, riding out your high. he slowly pulled out, you whining at the feeling of emptiness inside you, he brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them clean, grinning at you.

"taste so sweet baby, think you can handle more?" he questioned, eyes and hands wandering over your body as he took in how beautiful you looked.

"I guess we'll have to see" you smiled at him, eyes hungry with lust. you slipped out from under him and turned him over so you were now on top. you grinded on him teasingly, "baby please," he moaned as you kissed his neck, leaving a few marks of your own. "need you now, please". you pulled away from his neck and reached down to grab his dick, lining it up with the entrance of your tight pussy and sliding slightly down on it. you both moaned as you slid down either further onto his thick cock. " fuck y/n you feel so good" he growled at the feeling of you around him. you winced softly at the enjoyable pain of race stretching you out and his words made your walls clench around his length. rafes hands found their way to your hips and he gently pulled you down the rest of the way onto him, staying like that for a short second to adjust yourself to him. "shit rafe you're so big it hurts" you whined out quietly, smiling at him before slowly rising and falling back down on his dick.

still adjusting to his size you stay slow at first, gradually increasing your speed until your at a nice steady tempo. rafes hands dig into your hips holding and guiding you with each bounce, your head falls to his neck as you moan his name, "rafe, baby i'm so close." you manage to get out into moans and your walls clench around him again making him throw his head back and let out a loud groan.

"i know princess, me too" he says, voice rough from the pleasure taking over his body. your legs start to shake and and you get even tighter around rafes length as your thrusts get sloppier and more uneven. you scream and moan as you reach your high again staying on his cock to ride out your high. not far behind you feel rafe twitching inside of you "please cum in me rafe, i need it in me" you say. "fuck y/n whatever you want baby" rafe says matching your sloppy tempo as you feel his warm seed spill inside of you and he moans out your name.

you pull him into kiss with him still inside of you, not wanting this moment to end. eventually he flips you over with ease and slowly pulls out of you, you whimper at the feeling and watch as he walks away to get a warm cloth from the bathroom. he comes back and wipes you down gently with the warm cloth, you shiver at the sensation, still very sensitive, and he laughs lightly.

"you're mine now baby, all mine. i love you y/n" he says pulling his boxers back on and handing you his shirt to put on.

you giggle, taking the shirt "I've always been yours rafey, i love you too" you reply, putting the shirt on. rafe gets into your bed next you laying down with one arm around your waist and the other drawing patterns on your arms and back. he kisses your neck and you guys fall asleep like that, together just like how you've always imagined.

[icumpinkglitterxo]

Take me to church

warnings: angst, brief mentions of sh, homophobia, internalised homophobia, f slur, overall heavy topics. 🥰

a/n: whY AM I WRITING SLAXL 🥲 ts may be the most chronically online thing ive ever done. am i the only one who thinks axl and slash are like mickey and ian and am i also the only one who hates bottom mickey...

i like girls and guys i can say fag go away

enjoy ★

This was the worst thing that could've possibly happened to them. Or at least, that's what Slash thought. Axl and Slash had been secretly dating, but some dickhead soccer player at their school found out and told the entire school. It was bad enough that Slash had long hair, dressed in glam and occasionally painted his nails - he had a 'girlfriend' who was really his best friend who was secretly a lesbian. But now he was out as gay, and out against his will.

It had taken a serious toll on Slash's mental health, so much to the point that he couldn't bring himself to go to school and even took a blade to his skin.

The only thing that seemed good to him was when his mom found out and she was more than accepting. She was having an affair with David Bowie, and while it didn't affect him majorly, it was comforting to know he was accepting too.

As much as it didn't bother Axl, as long as it didn't get back to his parents, seeing how badly it affected the man he loved made him unbelievably angry.

Slash spent as much time as he could ditching class, staying home, or staying with Axl or his 'girlfriend'. Making sure he was never alone in public worked surprisingly well. Nobody came near him when he was with Axl, gay or not, people still avoid a hormonal bipolar teenager.

Of course, he would freak himself out when he he had to walk home. Alone. Axl hadn't been waiting for him at the end of the day like usual, so here Slash was, walking through an alley because it was the quickest way home. It was still light out, and no one was around, so he would be fine. Right?

Wrong.

It was fast. And slow. All at the same time. All it took was one punch for the loud ringing in his ears to start. Someone had grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. Hit. Punch. Shove. Kick. They pulled him up off the ground and shoved him against the wall again.

'Did you really think you'd get away with being a fucking faggot' one of them spat. The word alone hurt, but the way it rolled off his tongue with venom stung. The guy punched him again, he could feel the blood dripping down his face. Slash was more terrified than he'd ever been in his entire life.

They weren't showing any signs of stopping any time soon. Was being gay this wrong? Was he truly a bad person?

He was in unbearable pain. He tried everything he could to push them off, but to no avail.

They were genuinely going to beat him to death. He was going to die. He was actually going to die all because of who he loved. That was all he could think about. His final thoughts. Until the guy was pulled off him.

Slash slowly opened his eyes. Before him was Axl beating the shit out of both guys and screaming at them. "Don't you EVER lay your fucking hands on him ever again, understand!?" He was screaming so loud it actually hurt Slash's ears. But what shocked him most was that both guys looked absolutely terrified, maybe even more than Slash.

They nodded and ran away.

Axl turned to Slash, who had since sunk to the ground sobbing and shaking.

Axl kneeled in front of him, cupping his face. "Let me see, let me see..." Slash tried to pull away. He was ashamed. He couldn't stand up for himself. Axl sighed, "it's okay, you're okay... okay? I'm gonna take you home. They're gone. Okay? You're safe. I promise."

Slash was in a state of shock. He was hyperventilating. He was clearly struggling to breathe. "I- they- I was just - and then - and I- walking - and they - attacked -" Axl shushed him, grabbing his face a little more rough than before.

"Breathe."

They sat in the alley for at least half an hour as Slash tried to come down from his panic attack. Axl stayed with him the entire time, doing and saying everything he could to help him relax. He knew Slash was prone to panic attacks. He also knew he was in a great deal of pain, which he could only imagine were making things worse.

As promised, Axl took Slash home. The pair were now sitting in the bathroom, Axl cleaning the blood from his boyfriend's face.

"Do you think this is wrong?" Slash asks carefully. "What, beating people up for being gay? Course it’s wrong, it's a hate crime - " Axl started, but Slash interrupted.

"Not that. This. Us."

Axl froze.

He slowly looked down at Slash. "Is that a serious question?" Slash nodded. "Everyone thinks so. Maybe they're right." Axl scoffs, "you're not serious, are you fucking serious!?"

He nodded again. "I don't think we should be together." Axl stares at him, "don't... don't say that... don't you fucking say that..." Slash gets up and walks out of the bathroom, stopping in the doorway. "I think you should go. Don't try to call me."

He walks out of the bathroom, leaving Axl standing there completely shocked, hurt, and confused. He leaves Slash's house.

Instead of going home, Axl went to the abandoned house he crashed in when things got particularly difficult at home. While he knew Slash and his mom would always welcome them into their home, he never wanted to worry Slash with the abuse he was enduring at home.

Though, now he felt like he couldn't. Slash had actually broken up with him. When he got 'home', he started breaking everything he could, until he passed out from exhaustion.

Slash walked into his room, crying. He sat down on his bed, reaching for a blade.

[dreorig]

Taiju Shiba — headcanons ;

[ nsfw | sub bottom taiju x top dom male reader | reader is said to be as strong as taiju | ive had this idea for a while now heheh i need to rail him so bad it's not even funny anymore ]

Taiju is a total brat.

In front of the others he acts like he doesn't give a shit about you or like he wants you dead (depends on his mood) but he's actually very jealous and possessive.

Humiliation kink. Call him the dirtiest names you can think of and he'll sob while dripping wet.

Taiju loves punishments, seriously. He'll do the exact opposite of what you told him to just so you'll spank him.

He talks back to you because he actually values his pride but a few minutes later he'll be whimpering and behaving nicely to get what he wants. 

Taiju blushes more during aftercare than when you're degrading him and that's because he's not used to being taken care of. He secretly longs for it every time you have sex.

It might sound weird, but submitting helps him to slowly change into a better person — who would ever think he would apologise for misbehaving?

Is he stressed? Dumbify him until he's nothing but an incoherent moaning mess.

If you put a collar on his neck and tug on the leash, he'll be on his knees to suck you within seconds.

At first he thought you were dumb for reassuring him and apologising for degrading him, but he began to appreciate it as he slowly realised that's how you showed you considered him more than a sex toy.

"Imagine what people would think if they saw you like this. How would they react to the fact that you're nothing but a dirty whore? Um? To think you act so high and mighty yet you cry because the way I fuck you is just too good. Tsk. Don't you feel ashamed?"

Taiju held back a moan. "Fuck you."

You grabbed his face and made him look at you. "Who do you think you're talking to?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" he snarled back, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

For fuck's sake, you really loved him.

You slapped his face, leaving a big handprint on his pretty face, and immediately he let go of your hair. "Don’t you fucking dare to talk back to me, slut. The only things you should do with this mouth of yours are moaning and sucking my dick, because that's all you're good for."

You pounded him harder, making every word he could think of die on the tip of his tongue. Taiju, like the little shit he was, tried to keep any sounds from leaving his lips but he just couldn't do it anymore when you leaned down to suck and grab on his chest with your free hand, still hitting his prostate like your life depended on it. Taiju closed his eyes and threw his head back on the pillow, exposing his neck full of love bites, then proceeded to let out higher moans, which at this point you already knew meant his orgasm was getting closer and closer.

“Woah,” you chuckled. “To shut you up all it takes is a slap? I bet everyone’s gonna love it when I tell them.”

Of course you'd never tell anyone but was it even sex if you didn't tease him?

 “I’m— fuck — I'm gonna kill you, asshole.”

You immediately stopped everything and just looked down at him with a bored expression. Took Taiju only a few seconds to open his eyes and protest, “Why did you stop?”

"Why the hell would I keep pleasuring a cheap whore who can't even respect his Master?"

Taiju was totally outraged, "But I was almost there!”

“Too bad, I guess.”

“C’mon, stop bitching and finish the job.”

“Keep talking like that and I'll just leave you like this. I’ll be fine if I just jerk off to some pics I took of you, although I can't say the same about you. So what do you say now?"

“Asshole.”

You loved Taiju, truly. He was such a brat, there was no way you couldn't love him. To see all his stubbornness slowly reduced to nothing but pure obedience because he just wanted you to rail him was a holy, privileged experience.

“That's not what I want to hear.”

Taiju tried to push down his hips in an attempt to feel at least something, but you were quick to hold his hips in place. Although he was the Taiju Shiba, one of the strongest men you've ever met, you matched his strength and he was too needy to try anything. Taiju was completely helpless under your grip.

You clicked your tongue. “I don't have all night, Taiju. Better decide what you want before I just leave you on your own.”

Took nearly an extra minute before Taiju’s deadly glare turned into the soft expression you always longed for. Reluctantly, he wet his lips before speaking, "Please, forgive me, Master."

A smirk quickly appeared on your face as you cupped his face and pecked his lips. “Such a good slut for me.”

[adrealucia]

hii ! ive been obsessing over sean diaz for years and you might have a lot of requests from me soooo, I was wondering if you could do sean diaz (pre-accident) hard on crushing on reader who's like the popular kid who usually doesnt really notice him until he gets their number and turns out reader is actually funny and pretty nice despite popular beliefs :))

ah i have been dying to write this request ever since i got it, this idea is just really cute and i could totally see this being canon !!! I hope you like it

Popular Misconceptions

Sean Diaz glanced across the cafeteria, his eyes locking onto the table where you sat, surrounded by a group of friends. You, the popular girl, laughed and chatted animatedly, effortlessly commanding the attention of everyone around you. Sean couldn't help but feel a pang of envy mixed with curiosity. He had always admired you from afar, never quite daring to believe he could be part of your world.

"Hey, Sean, you zoning out again?" Lyla's voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned back to his best friend.

"Yeah, sorry," he mumbled, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Just thinking."

Lyla followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Thinking about her, huh?"

Sean blushed, looking down at his tray. "I mean, she's... interesting."

"Interesting, huh?" Lyla smirked. "Well, why don't you go talk to her? She's not as unapproachable as you think."

Sean shook his head. "Yeah, right. Like she'd even notice me."

"Hey, you'd be surprised. She's in your art class, right? You've got a reason to talk to her."

Sean sighed. "Maybe."

Later that day, Sean found himself in the art room, his sanctuary. He was sketching absentmindedly, lost in the details of his drawing, when he heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, he was surprised to see you standing there, a friendly smile on your face.

"Hey, Sean, right?" you asked, your voice breaking the quiet hum of the room.

Sean's heart skipped a beat. "Uh, yeah. Hi."

You held out your phone. "I was wondering if you could help me with this art project. I heard you're really good."

"Sure," Sean replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "What do you need?"

You sat down next to him, placing your sketchbook on the table. "I need some advice on shading. I can never get it to look right."

Sean glanced at your work and immediately saw the potential. "You're actually really good. Just need a few tweaks here and there."

You smiled, a genuine warmth in your eyes. "Thanks, that means a lot coming from you."

As you both worked on your projects, Sean found himself relaxing. You were genuinely nice, and as you started talking more, he discovered you had a great sense of humor. You cracked jokes and shared stories, making him laugh more than he had in a long time.

"Did you hear about Mr. Johnson's car getting covered in post-it notes?" you asked, giggling.

Sean chuckled. "Yeah, I saw it. Who even has the patience for that?"

You shrugged, grinning. "Probably someone with a lot of time and a lot of post-it notes."

Sean found himself enjoying your company more than he expected. Over the next few weeks, you and Sean grew closer. You'd text each other about everything and nothing, your conversations filled with banter and mutual interests. Sean realized how wrong he'd been about you. Despite your popularity, you were down-to-earth and kind, breaking every stereotype he'd had.

One afternoon, you both sat under a tree in the school courtyard, enjoying the rare sunny day. You were telling a particularly funny story about a recent party, and Sean couldn't stop laughing.

"See? You're not just some quiet artist," you teased, nudging him playfully. "You're actually fun to be around."

Sean's cheeks flushed. "Thanks. You're pretty cool too. I never thought I'd get to know the real you."

You leaned back against the tree, looking thoughtful. "You know, people always assume things about me because I'm 'popular.' But I get tired of all the pretending sometimes. With you, I can just be myself."

Sean's heart swelled at your words. "I'm glad. I like getting to know the real you."

You smiled, a genuine warmth in your eyes. "Well, I'm glad you did. And for the record, I've always noticed you. It just took a while for our paths to cross."

Sean looked at you, surprised. "Really? I thought you were too busy with your friends and... well, everything."

You laughed softly. "Appearances can be deceiving. I've seen your art in the hallways. You're really talented. And you've always seemed like a nice guy."

Sean's heart swelled with happiness. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"Hey, anytime," you said, nudging him gently. "So, you want to hang out more? Outside of art projects, I mean."

Sean's eyes lit up. "I'd like that. A lot."

As the sun set, casting a warm glow over the courtyard, Sean realized that maybe, just maybe, this crush wasn't so impossible after all.