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jujutsubaby · 3 months

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after hours (part 1)

☆ pairing: toji x afab!reader ☆ summary: toji, your objectively hot neighbor, needs a babysitter, and you need some cash. however, things are getting weird because he hasn't paid you in a week and rent is due... ☆ warnings: 18+. MINORS DNI. choking, oral sex (f!recieving), implied parent death, some public nudity, slight power dynamic ☆ tags: modernAU, babysittingAU ☆ a/n: lowkey wrote this with one hand if you catch my drift ꈍ .̮ ꈍ i'm thinking about doing more parts loosely based off of each other following y/n and a love triangle between gojo and toji. yes, they will be horny and yes i will *try* to have some plot let me LIVE okay (°◡°♡) let me know if that's something people are interested in :3 🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤

"megumiiii~", you sing lightly, "it's time for beeed". it's way past 9pm, and if toji finds out his son was 30 minutes past his bedtime, he'll never let you forget the next time you babysit. not that you have any issue babysitting for your extremely built, ripped, hot, dilf of a neighbor, that is.

megumi groans and tears start lining his little eyes. "but i don't wanna~" he cries out. "there's only 30 minutes left on this show...", he tries to beg. you pick up the candy wrappers you secretly gave megumi after dinner as a treat for eating his veggies.

"okay, first of all, i let you stay up way longer than i should have. second, there's no way in hell am i gonna let you stay up and watch...oh god. you're watching euphoria?!" you exclaim, eyes widening at the thought of megumi watching all the inappropriate content without you even realizing. you hope it's too late in the night and he's far too sleepy and tired to actually retain anything he just watched. you grab the tv remote and turn it off, and pick up megumi in your arms. "c'mon bubs, you've got school tomorrow, and your daddy will be home soon", you whisper softly in his ear.

megumi yawns and mumbles while slowly drifting off. "but i'm not even that sweepyy...". by the time you make it upstairs to his room, megumi is knocked out. you smile softly at him, before quitely closing the door and heading downstairs to the living room to clean up the mess megumi had made.

you look at the time again. 9:45...toji should be back soon, you think to yourself. you decide on reviewing some of your notes for a final next week while euphoria continues to play on the background. you've personally never watched the show, but your roommate, shoko, was obsessed with jacob elordi and loved euphoria, but there was far too much nudity in it for you.

as if right on cue, shoko shoots you a text.

shoko: pls tell me ur balls deep in toji rn babe me n utahime are bored as hell and we need something exciting this friday night 😭

you giggle. it was no secret between you and three that your next door neighbor was insanely hot. you guys always joke about sleeping with toji. you quickly type back:

y/n: stfu what if he was next to me and read this text huh? never gonna happen you know that 🙄

it’s not like you’re not not down for that. you just don’t want to be all over him like everyone else in the neighborhood. you and shoko have seen the way some of these girls did not know how to act on nextdoor whenever toji went on one of his shirtless runs or drove megumi to and from school.

it’s also not like you’re a total virgin either. you’ve had your fair share of ex-boyfriends in the past, but you won’t lie…it has been a while since you’ve been with someone. your thoughts are interrupted by a response from shoko.

shoko: riiiighttt, that's why you asked to borrow my shortest n sluttiest skirt to "babysit" tn 😏

you shake your head, scoffing at your cheeky roommate. you love her, but there's a final next week that isn't going to pass itself. muting the show and putting on your headphones, you get lost in your class notes, reviewing all the important key points and ideas before your final next week. you don’t even notice toji opening the door and his keys clanging on the table as he takes off his shoes and groans after a long day of…work? you’re not entirely sure what he does for a living but you never really bothered to ask. and it’s partially why you were feeling nervous to ask toji about your babysitting payment for the last week, as he hadn’t paid you at all for it. toji heads to the kitchen and opens a cold bottle of beer and saunters to the living room, only to be met with a pair of 4k hd bare titties on the 60 inch tv in his living room and you on the sofa.

toji clears his throat loudly. “whatcha watching, y/n?”, he says cheekily. you look up at toji, startled by his entrance, and you look at the tv, and squeal at what’s on display.

“oh my god, mr. fushiguro! i-i-i have no ideas w-what’s playing. ohmygodidon’tevenknowwhatshowisplaying-” you start rambling, looking around frantically for the remote to turn the tv off.

“relax, y/n-kun”, toji coos. “i’m not judging you. never known anyone to do their best studyin’ while there are a pair of tits on screen, but you always find a way to surprise me.” toji chuckles as you turn off the tv, and moves closer to you so he can sit across the sofa.

“stop teasing me, mr. fushiguro~”, you whine., crossing your arms and pouting. “you know i’d never-“

“c’mon y/n, how many times do i have to tell you to call me toji? i’m not that much older than you, you know that right?”, toji reminds you.

your pout slowly turns into a smile as you laugh slightly. “okay, whatever you say, boomer,” you tease. you and toji both laugh gingerly. you both stare at the blank tv screen, marinating in the comfortable silence you both were familiar with. toji was right when he said he wasn’t much older than you. he was, after all, your age when he had megumi and was somehow making ends meet as a single parent, although you would be lying if you said you hadn’t seen a few women here and there that toji brought home every so often. it was never the same girl more than once, but you definitely knew he had some game, whether you liked it or not. wait, do you not like that he brings girls over?

you shift uncomfortably on the couch as you recall the uncomfortable conversation you need to have with toji. he senses the change in your mood and how you body stiffened up instead of its usually relaxed posture. toji frowns. “hey, what’s on your mind, pumpkin?”

“umm…well, i hope you don’t mind me asking this but…well, i’ve got to pay my portion of rent soon. a-and i’ve noticed that i haven’t gotten paid for the last w-week yet. sorry, i know things are rough but…i was wondering…” you trail off, pleading inside that toji can fill in the blanks himself and can figure out what you’re asking.

toji shifts towards you and locks eyes with you. you don’t really know what you were expecting to see but it sure wasn’t him smirking. you swear you saw a twinkle of playfulness in his eyes as he inches closer and closer to you. almost instinctively, you clench your thighs together, trying really hard not to think about the effect locking eyes with toji has on you.

“aw, i’m sorry, pumpkin.” toji feigns sympathy to you. “you see, i was going to pay you last week. remember when you went to tuck megumi in after last thursday? i had an envelope with the cash i owed you, and i went to put it in your bag, when your laptop chimed with a new message.” your face immediately drops. this can’t be what you think it is. you’re not entirely sure what toji could’ve seen, but also, isn’t this a violation of your privacy? you hold your breath and gulp, daring not to let toji sense how nervous you are.

“oh god, y/n. i didn’t want to look but it’s hard to look away when there’s a message that says ‘so have you fucked your hot dilf neighbor yet?’ don’t tell me you were only babysitting for me because you wanted me?” toji asks, raising an eyebrow, the scar near his lip lifting up slightly in a teasing grin.

“i-i don’t know w-what you’re talking about, toji~ why were you looking at my messages!” you accuse, your face growing hotter by the second with embarrassment and…lust? wait what no, he’s your neighbor you can’t do this! you can feel your panties getting more soaked by the second and you cannot bear to look at toji’s stupid handsome face, so you look at his hands. the way his large fingers rest on the sofa. how would they look around your neck? oh my god, snap out of it!

“why are you telling everyone but me you think i’m hot?” he counters, pulling you from your thoughts. “that reallyyy hurts my feelings, y/n-kun”, toji says as he pretends to pout. wait, when did he get so close to you?

“it’s s-so unprofessional i didn’t want to-“ you start rambling. toji is right next to you, his knees touching your knees. he stops you mid sentence by using his hands that are practically the size of your face to grab your jaw and force you to face him, as you let out a pathetic little whine.

“cut the shit, pumpkin. it’s just babysitting, okay. it’s not that serious,” toji spits harshly. every muscle in your body is on fire, and you have to actively prevent your eyes from rolling back. you swear you had a fantasy dream like this once (oh god, was it with toji?).

“don’t think i don’t see you looking sooo disappointed when i bring yet another girl home with me. hell, it even makes me feel bad…” toji trails off, as he loosens his grip on your jaw, slowly using his fingers to trace your jawline. you shiver at his touch. “hell, even i feel bad when i see your sad sad face drop. my poor girl…”, toji feigns a frown as he starts to softly trace the outline of your lips.

instinctively, you let out a quite moan when his fingers touch your lips. “i do, toji. i feel so sad when i see you with those other girls. i can’t stand it when someone else has you.” you confess, almost embarrassingly easily. your wide bambi eyes look at toji’s, and you’re not sure if you want to cry or beeline back to your place and forget this ever happened. or perhaps a secret third option where you give in to the desires you’ve had all along?

toji groans deeply as he shifts slightly in his seat, but before you’re able to look down and see the hardening tent in his pants, toji shoves his index and middle fingers into your mouth, taking you by surprise. you stifle out a moan before toji sticks them deeper down your throat.

he doesn’t even have to ask you to suck on them as you instinctively start to do so, making a show of gagging on them for toji’s pleasure. you feel warm as you hear toji let out a groan as he slips in a third finger, making you choke on them. your moans vibrate against his fingers and he hums in approval of how well you’re doing with no instruction from him.

“you’re doing so well, pumpkin,” toji hums, a string of saliva connecting his fingers to your mouth as he slowly takes his fingers out of your mouth.

alright, fuck it. this sends you over the edge. your lips crash into toji’s, teeth hitting each as you both get to know the shape of each others mouths. you bite his lip and that’s all it takes for toji to pull you onto his lap and deepen the kiss with his tongue, exploring every inch of your mouth. you feel the vibrations of his groans and your hips grind into his thigh as you put your arms around his neck, pulling yourself as close as you can to him. your legs wrap around his torso as his hands grab your ass harshly. you let out a yelp into his mouth, daring not to end the kiss.

“oh you’ve been waiting for this haven’t you, pumpkin?” toji breaths against your neck after breaking the kiss. he begins to kiss your neck and you moan his name embarrassingly load.

“tojiiii~” you whine, “i need you, please~” you try to move your hips against him to feel some friction in the place you need it the most.

“shhh, you’re gonna wake m’gumi up,” he slurs in a low voice, already drunk off of your warmth. "not so fast, pumpkin", he says as he stills your hips, "i call the shots here." he grins and before you even know it, your back hits the sofa and he pulls your legs up on his shoulders.

you feel exposed, as shoko's pleated skirt does a poor job of leaving anything to the imagination, and all of a sudden, you really wish you wore your trusted boy shorts instead of your black lace thong under it. as he starts to kiss your ankles while looking deeply into your eyes, you see nothing but primal lust on his face. he lightly bites your ankle, making you slightly yelp before covering your mouth, remembering megumi upstairs.

toji's eyes wander to your sweet spot, and it's taking everything in you not to thrust your soaking core into his hungry face. "oh, is that where you want me to touch you?" he teases, his hands running down softly from your ankles to your inner thigh. your hips wiggle side to side, hoping his fingers end up grazing your aching core, but toji holds you hips down roughly. he scoots back and peppers your leg with kisses, slowly inching up and up until he's mere inches away from your panties.

he plants a wet kiss on your clothed mound and you let out a pathetic mewl as toji shoots his head up and stops dead in his tracks. "make another noise, pumpkin, and we end this right now and you go home frustrated and upset." he warns. unfortunately, this turns you on even more and your hands are over your mouth immediately, eyes shut closed, praying toji pities you and gives you some release.

you feel toji take off your panties agonizingly slowly, and your breath hitches. "oh, your panties are fully ruined. better get rid of them." toji says as he tosses them somewhere across the room.

"it's your fault..." you say, you voice a low whisper through your hands.

toji starts back at your mound again and moans into the kiss in agreement. his fingers lightly touch your core, and you shiver in anticipation. "oh, this is where your sensitive, right?" toji teases, as his fingers finally start circling the part of your delicate bud you've been aching for toji to touch. you bite your hand to prevent yourself from moaning loudly, and take deep breaths so to not make any noise.

toji starts circling your sensitive bud with his fingers, moving with your hips as you get to a rhythm that has you on cloud nine. you feel the familiar build up beginning, when toji abruptly takes his fingers away, leaving you breathless and practically whining from his lack of touch. "ohhh, don't worry, pumpkin. i just wanna taste you," he coos, before diving mouth first into your sensitive bud once more, tasting every inch of your delicate core.

this time, you're unable to hold back and your deep breaths are practically moans. you're laughing, whining, crying...you're not actually sure. you're mind is clouded by the pleasure toji's tongue is sending through your body.

toji's fingers start teasing your entrance as your hips buckle and you start grinding on his face. you're making a mess on his sofa but you don't even care, and neither does toji. "oh, toji, fuck~ that feels...soo good...fuck~" you whine. you're practically begging for his fingers inside you, and toji finally complies and inserts his finger inside you.

"please toji~", you whisper, "i need more, please, please."

"wow, someone's a bit greedy. one finger just isn't enough for a slut like you, huh?" toji chides, the vibrations of his voice going straight to your body. he inserts two more fingers, and you feel a pang of pain, which makes you yelp.

"toji~ it's too much," you cry out, unable to handle three of his large fingers inside you at once.

"oh, now it's a problem? you can take it, pumpkin." toji encourages, moving his fingers at a moderate pace while his mouth is still playing with your delicate bud. the pain slowly turns into pleasure, and the pleasure slowly turns into an inevitable build up that's starting to cloud your vision.

"toji~" you whine. "i'm getting so close, please..." you trail off, trying your hardest to lower your moans.

"please what?" toji asks, knowing full well what you wanted, and that he was the only person able to give it you. toji's member was practically begging for escape against his dark pants, but he was far too drunk on your sweet nectar. he doesn't remember the last time he tasted someone as addicting as you.

"please, can i...c-can i...?" you don't get to finish your sentence before toji groans a "yes" into your core, and the dam that had been building finally burst as you release all over toji's face.

you pant heavily as you finish, hoping you weren't too loud. toji lifts his head from between your legs and immediately darts to your lips, kissing you deeply before you can say anything. you moan into the kiss, still feeling the effects of your orgasm rippling through your sensitive body. you taste yourself in toji's kiss and you never want it to end. a whine escapes your mouth when toji's lips finally disconnect from yours, an unashamed smile playing on toji's face. "did you like that, pumpkin?" he asks.

you're still catching your breath as you nod and smile, gazing at him softly. you can't help but want to return the favor for toji, as you slowly get up and scan toji up and down. god, he's so fucking fit.

you scoot closer to toji, maintaining eye contact, and placing your hands on his upper thigh. oh my god, his legs are just pure rock hard muscle. your hands shake slightly as they make their way on top of toji's hard straining member. toji chuckles as you grasp him over his dark pants, stopping you in your tracks by grabbing your wrist and moving it away from him.

"woah, hold on there y/n. it's 11pm. a bit too late to start something now, dontcha think?" he inquires, raising his eyebrows at you.

heat rises to your cheeks and you feel so embarrassed you could combust. oh my god, wait, does he not want you to return the favor? the insecurity showed up immediately on your face, with your lips frowning and eyebrows scrunching. toji cups the side of your face endearingly and his thumb grazes your lower lip before letting it sit there.

"hey, don't give me that look. i want this. i want you but...it's late. megumi has school tomorrow and it's parent teacher night. i know you have class, too," he explains.

you pout, but not before sucking toji's thumb that was grazing your lower lip and giving it a wet kiss. "that's not fair~ i really want to return the favor toji..." your voice trails, as you already know this conversation is over. you sigh as you turn away from him and reach for your notebook and laptop on the coffee table. you get up and bend down to grab your bag and start packing your belongings and fishing out your keys.

you hear toji hum and turn around to see the gears twisting in his dark eyes that are fixated on you. wait, hold on. he's not looking at you. he's looking at your ass. and he's being so obvious and unashamed about it, too!

you blush and roll your eyes as you chide toji. "wow, so you don't want me to suck your dick but you're gonna look at my ass as i leave?"

toji laughs earnestly and the sound of his laughter makes you feel warm and relaxed inside. you could probably live the rest of your life hearing that laugh. wait, what? rest of your life?

"first off, i do want you to suck me off, pumpkin. second, am i not allowed to respectfully admire? anyway, i was thinking. maybe you come with us to the parent-teacher meeting tomorrow? you practically help the kid with his homework every other night, and i think he really sees you as someone he can trust." toji says, bringing you out of your thoughts. you notice the hidden solitude behind his eyes, and feel a pang of melancholy in your heart. you don't know much about toji and megumi's mom, and you never thought it appropriate to discuss with either one of them, so you always let it be. a part of you is curious and another part is afraid to touch such a vulnerable side to toji, fearing it may alter your relationship with him permanently.

"we can grab dinner before, too. my treat." toji winks, and you scoff. he never even makes sure there's food for you at home before he leaves, always leaving you to pay for your own dinner every night you babysit, let alone pay a meal for you.

you roll your eyes, trying to act upset, but a giggle breaks out anyway. "yeah, i'd love to." you respond genuinely.

you finish packing up your things before searching for your discarded panties in toji's living room. "looking for these?" toji teases, holding up your lacy black thong, still ruined with the mess you made earlier today.

"give 'em back, toji~" you say, trying to reach for the panties from toji, before he stuffs them in his pocket.

"i think i'll keep these actually. they need to go in the laundry anyway, might as well be here." he teases, as you pout. toji cracks an evil grin, knowing deep down you must love having to go back home without any panties in your short skirt.

and he was right, you kinda did love it. a blush creeps up to your cheeks as you shake your head in dismay. "you're so fuckin' annoying, y'know?" you say as toji interlaces his fingers with yours as he walks to you to the door.

"yeah, i know. let's see if you're still that mouthy after you choke on me tomorrow," toji says, giving you a playfully menacing look.

the cool air of the late night nips at your skin, making you shiver, but you know deep down that has more to do with thinking about all the things toji will do to your poor throat tomorrow evening. "hm, we'll see...," you say, as your breath hitches slightly. you stand up on your tippy toes to give a quick peck goodnight to toji.

you honestly should've known better because toji immediately leans forward and turns the quick kiss into a deep make out session in the chill yet humid night air. he's quick to grab your ass, and you're quick to regain your senses and break off the kiss. oh my god, what if someone saw us, you think, recalling all the girls in the neighborhood that fawn over toji and the fact that you weren't wearing panties thanks to toji.

"stop toji~ it's late like you said," you whine, wriggling out of his strong grasp. you turns you around, you back flush against him and he laughs into your neck, arms wrapping your hips tightly from behind.

he releases you but not before giving you one last squeeze. "goodnight, pumpkin."

"night, toji," you say softly as you turn around and head to your car in the driveway. you do a poor job of pulling your skirt down as low as it can possibly get without you looking incredibly stupid, and cross your arms in the cold breeze.

you hear the door close, and start up the car engine and back out, relying only on muscle memory to get you home, as you spend the entire five minute car ride thinking solely about everything that happened today. how were you ready for another release already? you make a mental note to charge your vibrator when you get back to your apartment.

just as you pulled into the drive way, you jaw fell and you remembered. oh shit wait, he still hasn't paid me.

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miguel-owhora · 5 months

Note

Something like one day Miguel assigns you some task and in the process you encounter a variation of his and you completely forget about your mission, then Miguel has to go look for you because enough time has passed, only to find you half unconscious and very stupid, with clear signs that another Miguel fucked you.

I was actually hooked on your idea idk idk

TYPE — drabble

SYNOPSIS — what anon said

WARNINGS — 18+ , cheating but is it really cheating if it's a variant of your husband , cunnilingus , squirting , implied multiple orgasms/milking

FEM-ALIGNED READERS AND MINORS DNF, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE HEAVILY APPRECIATED.

TAGS — @sweetcorpse , @tophamhat-kyo , @villainousdelicacy , @realitylemon , @gayaristocrat , @gaynesspersonified

MORE — this idea literally has me foaming and slamming inside my cage

This version of your home world isn't unusual. It's literally a couple years from '99, a couple years back into the past. Nothing unusual, nothing uncommon from your current year back in your original timeline. Swinging around your city is nice, the sky dark with the city lights polluting the night sky, preventing you from seeing the stars - that is, you never really did see them, unless if you went to the moon station. But that was only ever a privilege you got once you were older.

You spent majority of your youth in the underground part of Nueva York, living in the dark with only the city lights as the sun. You only ever stepped out whenever you wanted to rebel and when you went to college, and only ever moved out of the underworld - the name many called the underground of NY - when you got with Miguel. Bless his heart, as much as you adored your husband and how many years you've been living on the nicer side of NY - that is in looks, but just barely - you would always favor the underworld. You found that despite the reputation it earned, the people were always more real and down to earth than the people living overhead.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and just barely swerved out of the way before you hit a pole. You swung yourself up and landed on top of a skyscraper of a building, landing in what many would dub the classic spider pose. You peered over the edge of the building, overlooking the city in all its glory. Nueva York, as a whole, no matter how corny you would sound right now, would forever hold a special place in your heart. The people, the food, the diverse mixture of culture and background - that's what made Nueva York, Nueva York: just a clusterfuck of everyone and everything.

After a solid couple seconds of surveying everything you raised your hand to look at your goober - despite what Miguel tried to get everyone to say, it was a goober at the end of the day, a damn watch if you want to be simple about it - and began to type in it. You read over the mission Miguel gave you, just a simple 'catch an anomaly and go home' type of mission It wasn't one of those big bad villains, just some guy. Didn't even have a name.

You snorted to yourself as you lowered your arm and stretched, grunting as one or two of your bones popped pleasantly, blood flooding back to wherever it needed to go.

"I didn't know we had a Spider-Man."

The sound of Miguel's voice nearly has you falling off the building, and hadn't it been for your ability to stick to surfaces, you would've been a splat of flesh on the floor. You whipped around, startled, and found yourself looking at your husband.

...Future husband, as this Miguel isn't - first of all - your Miguel and younger than the early thirties man you knew and love. But it was still technically your husband. Technically. Unless if this was one of those world's where you didn't go overhead and stayed in the underworld, or something along those lies, somewhere where you never met Miguel.

This Miguel of Earth-547, Miguel-547, was younger than your Miguel, a bit more youthful, but no less handsome. Perhaps in his twenties, with the telltale signs of a lack of sleep on the heavy eyebags underneath his dark eyes, perhaps from studying so much. The thought has you almost snorting but you caught yourself as you stepped down from the railing of the building, looking over at Miguel with a slight tilt of your head.

"You don't. Not yet, at least." You replied, eyeing him with keen interest, mission forgotten.

Miguel raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. You shake your head, snorting in amusement. He's Miguel, he's your husband, just like when he was younger, back when you first met him, back when you first roomied with him against your will.

"Who are you?" Miguel asks, and you can see the regret written across his face. This time, it makes you laugh, both at his face and at the question.

"That's.. that's stupid. Nevermind." Miguel mutters, face darkening in embarrassment as he lightly pouted - frowned, whatever, he has the same face for both feelings - and looked away. It's such a Miguel thing to do that you choke and cough, laughing, and wiping away tears that never meet your fingers, not with your mask covering your face.

"I'd tell you my name but..." You rolled your shoulders, placing your hands on your waist. "I think Miguel would get mad at me for revealing my identity, even if it's just my name. I don't want to mess with any canon event. You know how it is."

"I don't." Miguel replied, glancing back at you with a confused expression. "And Miguel? That's.. that's my name. I'm guessing you mean somebody else? And canon ev- what the shock are you even talking about?"

Oh the irony, you thought to yourself. "Something like that, sure, and it's a long story."

Miguel pursed his lips and gave you a look. You grinned behind your mask, the lenses to your mask squinting at him.

"But I can offer you something better."

This got Miguel's attention and you chuckled, still grinning. Gotcha.

Which is how you ended up in Miguel's dorm room, stuffed between his legs and eating at his pussy. His legs hold you firmly between strong thighs, keeping you trapped and stuffing your face into pussy - not that you minded of course. It's your favorite past time, and why would you deny yourself the opportunity to eat your man's cunt like it's your last meal? You'd be a fool not to.

Miguel's voice is breathless and whimpery, a hand holding the back of your face as he shamelessly grinded against your mouth. He arched his back and squeezed his thighs when your mouth attached to his swollen cock, sucking on the sensitive nub. Your tongue dipped into his hole as you felt him tremble and moan, incomprehensible words of praise and encouragement tumbling from his mouth as he came inside your mouth.

He tried to push you away once his climax passed over, but you didn't budge, merely using your enhanced strength to grab onto his thighs and gently push them down. The position made him even more open and gave you even more access to the sweet, delicious slick that poured out of him, which you didn't dare let a spare a single drop and eagerly slurped up.

"Hah - ca- shock! - cálmate, pinche perro!" Miguel moaned, his thighs tensed and twitching as he danced between pushing your head away and humping into your mouth. He moved when you slipped into two fingers and began to move them, thrusting them in and out of his pussy with a certain expertise that came with someone who's done this before, and sucked on his cock.

Whatever you did, however you learned it, was enough to rip an unexpected orgasm from Miguel that had no buildup and caught him off guard. Even moreso when he felt liquid shoot from his pussy and he went unbelievably warm, but shock, if it didn't make him stomach flutter. His cheeks darkened when he heard you obscenely slurp, drinking whatever liquid he squirted out.

"What - what the shock was that?!" Miguel breathed out after you finally pulled away with a pop. Miguel felt something hot and possessive curl in his stomach when he saw the bottom half of your face - the only thing you dared to show him, the upper part of your face was hidden by the mask you wore - was dripping wet with his fluids. He watched as you licked your lips; and Miguel swallowed.

"You squirted," You said calmly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You pulled your fingers away from his pussy and plopped them into your mouth, cleaning them of whatever slick coated it, and Miguel stared with wide eyes.

He slowly blinked and looked away, beyond flustered.

"I never knew I could do that." Miguel muttered, panting.

"Well now you do, use it wisely." You replied, amused, lips curled into a teasing grin. Miguel rolled his eyes, but not unkindly. Your eyes flickered from his face down to the rest of his body and over to the lower half. His pussy was slick and swollen, the dark hair neatly trimmed, looking and smelling and tasting absolutely delicious. That never did change about him, did it? You could spend all eternity between his legs, eagerly doting on his cunt.

You snapped out of your thoughts with a little grunt as Miguel suddenly hauled you off the ground and onto his bed, flat on your back. The lenses of your mask widened and your mouth went dry when Miguel swung himself over your lap, straddling you. Your hands instinctively fell onto his waist, so small and holdable, and nervously giggled, licking your lips that suddenly felt too dry.

"What's - what's all this about?" You asked, flustered. Miguel seemed to pick up on this and smiled, a little dangerous, a little fond. He slowly rolled his hips down, eyes gleaming when you softly moaned, your cock, hard in your suit, eagerly responding to some stimulation.

"Just a little treat. You ate me out..." Miguel's hand reached down to grab a hold of your cock, rubbing it through the material of your spandex. "...So I'll let you hit."

"Fuck." You whispered, breathless. Miguel just chuckled, eyes dark and smile dangerous in the way that made you fall in love all over again.

"Have you checked on [Name], Miguel?"

The sound of his AI's voice is enough to rip Miguel's attention from the holograms in front of him. His eyes feel dry as he gives a couple of blinks, vision straining from having stared at screens for so long. It takes a couple of heartbeats before Miguel could process Lyla's question and gave her a questioning look as she hovered near him.

"What?" He asked, intelligently, and totally not in a dumb way.

Lyla rolled her eyes, exasperated. "[Name]? Your husband? The one you sent on a mission?"

It was Miguel's turn to roll his eyes. "I know the name of my husband. Why are you asking if I checked up on him? He's reliable, he'll get the job done."

Lyla smirked in the way that told Miguel she knew something he didn't and could already feel his heart dropping to his stomach.

"What's wrong?" Miguel demanded, immediately on alert, his mind beginning to creep with different scenarios that made him stomach twist uncomfortablely.

"Nothing's wrong. He's fine, he's not hurt." Lyla paused and gave him a look over her heartshaped glasses. "He's just neglecting his duties for a variant."

Miguel processed the words and paused, eyebrow raising. "Variant?"

Lyla just smirked even wider, glitching and moving somewhere else, teasing. A set of coordinates appeared on Miguel's watch.

"Why don't you check it out?" Lyla chuckled, stuffing her hands into her pockets. "But just go alone, alright?"

Miguel didn't know if he wanted to strangle Lyla or himself. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his temple. He could already feel the telltale sign of a migraine appearing, and no, his lack of sleep did NOT contribute to it.

"Lyla, open a portal." He eventually sighed out, dragging a hand over his face to get rid of any drowsiness.

"You got it, boss."

The orange and colorful portal appeared in front of Miguel, lighting up his dark lab in a warm color, changing the texture of the area around it. Miguel took a moment to appreciate it, a moment to gather himself, before throwing himself in the portal.

He knew the world he sent you to was one of your guy's timelines. Just a couple years back into the past, nothing crazy. The whole mission was a simple one, even a newbie could've done it. He knew you could handle more, obviously, but the thought of you getting hurt, of losing you, that frightened Miguel. It scared him. And while he knew you'd get tired of basic missions like the one he assigned you, he wouldn't budge. Well, at least not now.

But he didn't think he'd end up in a rather familiar dormroom. Specifically, his old dorm room, in his bedroom. Familiar posters line the walls, little figurines scattered around, his old desk lined next to his bed and scattered with messy shit. It's nostalgic, and for a second, Miguel imagines himself as his fresh out of high school guy barely entering his college years.

What's out of place, however, is the body of his husband laying on his bed. He's not dead, thankfully, Miguel's eyes catching sight of the slow rise and fall of his chest, and if anything, seems to be half out of it.

His mask is pulled halfway up, from his nose and down being the only thing revealed. His lips are slick and bit, light bruises on his jaw. The pants of his spandex are pulled down far enough to reveal his cock, which lays heavy and flaccid on his stomach, and yet...

Miguel's cheeks darkened and his lips pursed when he saw the dried evidence of cum on your belly and cock. Miguel pixelated his mask away, sighing out of exasperation, even if his core squirmed in a familiar way.

Miguel walked the short steps towards his bed and hovered over you, taking in your frazzled and obviously worn out appearance. Miguel reached down and gently grasped your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you.

He was surprised when you softly groaned, squirming as you seemed to awake up.

"Miguel?" You slurred out, and Miguel then realized his variant must've had his time with you.

"[Name,] ready to head back home?" Miguel questioned, his voice quiet but a faint hint of affection tinting his words. Perhaps he should be jealous that a variant got to his husband, but he can't find it in himself. If anything, it was... kind of hot. But that was another thing for another time.

"Mm? Home.... wait-" You stirred a little, becoming just the slightest bit alert. "Which dimension?"

Miguel made a little exasperated face even if you couldn't see. "928."

You went slack, pleased with the answer. "Mkay, le's go h'me..." You slurred before promptly knocking yourself out. Miguel stared before slowly setting your head down. He gently pulled your mask down and stuffed yourself back into your spandex before scooping you up.

"Lyla-" He began but was caught off by the AI, who glitched into existent.

"He looks kind of cute. You're, like, his knight in shining armor - or would it be spider in shining armor?" Lyla mused as she took a couple mixtures of the husbands. Miguel didn't dignify her with a response as a portal opened up, illuminating the room in a warm colorful glow. Then, a thought crossed his mind and he paused.

"Did he even finish his mission?" Miguel asked Lyla, even if he knew the answer.

"Absolutely not." Lyla grinned.

Miguel took a deep breath but didn't get angry - he never did get angry with you, now did he?

"Send someone to finish it." Miguel asked as he slipped through the portal, his AI glitching out of air. Missions he damned, he had his own mission now: giving you the aftercare his variant failed to do, which, in his opinion, made him the best variant out there.

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angelltheninth · 6 months

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NNN Day 7 with Vinsmoke Sanji

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, praise, discipline, teasing, spanking, rough sex

A/N: I had to include his rivalry with Zoro, it's too good not to be in here.

Sanji wasn't cruel, on the contrary he was very nice to the people he liked, to the woman he fucked most of all, but he was also never one to forget payback, or back down from a challenge when it was presented to him. And when Zoro was the challenger? He never thought he'd lose. Little did he know that you were on Zoro's side here.

The challenge was to go a whole month without an orgasm. It was stupid but it did seem doable. That was until he remembered that Zoro wasn't in a relationship, but he was. And you were his weakness, you made him lose, and now it was time you pay.

"Hold still princess, I'm not done with you, not by a mile." Sanji kept you bent over the counter, the kitchen echoing not with the sound of dicing but naked skin slapping against skin, not smelling of a delicious meal but of sex, "Out of everyone I never thought my own girlfriend would betray me. Why sweetheart? I lasted a week already but you just had to cross the line didn't you? Just had to tease me too much?"

"I didn't mean it, I thought you'd enjoy it if it was more of a challenge." You moaned out as his hand made a matching imprint on your right ass cheek.

"More of a challenge? Do you know how hard it was to go without fucking you for a week? Jacking off for a week while you walked around looking as sexy as ever?" You did notice he smelled more of cigarettes this week, he must have been using that to release the stress instead. "There's only so much that a man can take before he snaps. You made that happen, you made me lose the bet. So tonight I'll have you take full responsibility for it. You're gonna let me use that tight pussy tonight understand?"

Was that all? "And what do I get in return?" You replied cheekily while squeezing your walls around him on purpose. Sanji cursed under his breath, his body falling on top of yours as another orgasm rocked though him, jets and jets of cum blasting into your already full womb, "So full."

"Full. Yeah, I'm gonna pump you full of my cum. I lost the bed but I... I get to fuck you every night right? Zoro probably made the wager cause he was so jealous us me, heh, he won't even get to fuck a cunt as good as yours sweetheart, no one ever will." It was really funny, how much it bothered him whenever Zoro talked to you, it always made sex better.

Unfortunately for him he'll never know that the bet was actually your idea, one that Zoro was all to happy to pretend to play along with because he knew it would drive Sanji insane. "Only you Sanji, it's always only you."

#one piece x reader #opla x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece imagine #opla imagine #vinsmoke sanji imagine #one piece smut #opla smut #vinsmoke sanji smut #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji imagine #sanji smut #smut drabble #x female reader

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starlostseungmin · 19 days

Text

stray kids ─── as one direction songs.

✰ pairing : non-idol!skz x afab!reader

✰ genre : fluff, angst, maybe suggestive?

✰ warnings : subtle mentions of sex and drugs, kissing, mentions of food and profanity. lmk if i missed smth.

✰ notes : uhm i really don't know what i wrote. this has been sitting on my drafts since november and thank god anon reminded me about it (i actually went on hiatus after minho's birthday last year so yeah) the songs i associated with skz members are just strongly my opinion mehehe i hope you guys like it, idk if you agree with me in regards with the songs but DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS after it! thank you so much <33

✰ tags : @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly

masterlist | taglist.

chan ─── perfect

honorable mention: little things

you already know how fucked up your life is but ever since he came, those days became different. it is always the small gestures that one fails to notice in the blink of an eye. you are just going to be surprised by the time it is done or how you managed to get out of a small inconvenience. he loves you so much that he would put you first before anything else.

chan is different from everyone else. maybe because he is labeled to be kind and so above average of doing the bare minimum which people seek from their partners. he’s perfect but he doesn’t think of it the same way.

you tried to convince him a hundred times but all you got in response is him being a blushing mess and his giggle that makes your heart warm every time you hear it. a smile would tug on your lips that would make him stare at you, he’d bounce back on the things you said to him and you think about what did you do in your past life to deserve someone as perfect as him.

“baby, you’re perfect,” you said for the nth time, “no, i’m not, but i’m perfect for you,” he winked. “that was smooth, chan,”

lee know ─── night changes

he might be the type to not show his feelings immediately but he’s the one who subtly shows them. it started slowly, he reassured you that everything would fall into place once you both could figure out what was going on with this relationship.

but as long as you’re together, the love you and him shared will never change. although the process of this love story has made things go in different directions, the thought of having to stick together is essential.

your parents didn’t like him at first, they had someone in mind and that wasn’t him and yet, you didn’t care even if your first date was a disaster and the next one after that, but that didn’t stop you. it took a while for your parents to finally accept him after tons of convincing them that he’s a great guy, but it succeeded later on.

you had a place on your own and welcomed his cats to live with you when some of them were wild, that’s what you think. minho was a mess when you met him, but thanks to you, it’s not that bad anymore.

changbin ─── temporary fix

honorable mention: i want to write you a song

changbin is the type to offer himself as someone you can lean on but it’s not always because of this friendship you have, but as a lover who wanted to make you feel better and forget about shit.

temporary fix is not always meant to be a cover-up of something you’d open up again to allow another train of bullshits in your life. it felt like he was being sent from the heavens to look out for you, an angel whose sole mission is to make you happy, the same feeling like something that keeps you high.

there’s this thing on changbin’s vibe that you don’t want to share with anybody else and he makes you feel things when you’re with him. even though this relationship sounds like a fling and a guy who sneaks into your dorm late at night to make out with you, well, it used to be. but you know changbin is so much more than that after a while.

the phrase, “you can call me when you need me, you know?” whenever he sleeps with you is now in the trashbin the moment you settle to be someone to each other.

hyunjin ─── last first kiss

remember the time when he said that he chose to be the last love instead of the first? exactly. being the last person to love is basically spending the rest of your life with him, even if he’s not your first kiss, not your first love, not your first in everything, it’s fine as long as he’ll be the one you’ll remember as your eternal love.

hyunjin being fitted into this song is like a message that he wanted to convey to his love, a sentiment that would indicate how much he’d spend time and effort to stay by your side until the end of time. indeed, a hopeless romantic man he is.

last first kiss is the very first song that reminds you of him, it is part of those memories you made with him. it was that time when he decided to take this relationship to the next level, yes, he did mention that he wanted to be your last, and by what he meant, an everlasting love.

“let me be your last,” and when you heard him say that, you knew he was the man who fits perfectly into your broken puzzle that would mend the wound forever.

han ─── rock me

honorable mention: midnight memories

rock me suits him as well as midnight memories. but midnight memories have their effects on han, giving him the vibes of being a musician specializing in the rock genre. and as someone who loves to listen to almost every genre in the world, you fell in love with him after watching him busking by the streets.

you were amazed by how talented he is. his fingers strummed that guitar well, and his voice? like an angel. one could say that he is a free-spirited human being who does whatever he wants and writes songs about some things that piqued his interest.

then there’s you, a broken melody who longed for him to come back, the same goes for him who let you go. both of you thought that you were too young to be in love and jisung was better off alone but his songs were dedicated to your break up. you rocked his world when you came and left broken notes when it ended.

but he always believed that what you had back then, was real and that you’d always remember the love you had.

felix ─── why don’t we go there

honorable mention: kiss you

felix is someone who gets hyped easily whenever you’re with him. his bright smile, his funny reactions, and the unidentified sounds that came out of his mouth made him a fun guy to be with. it started with a fling that turned out to be something you didn’t want to rush but it is slowly beginning to have a label.

having a relationship with him offered different dynamics. it is the way he grabs your hand when you both start to get caught by the waves crashing by the shore or how he felt when you kissed him for the first time. he is someone who can get dragged with you to whatever your plan is, a great ball of sunshine to your rainy days, someone that you don’t want to be the one that got away.

he does think the same, especially the fact that he treasures you so much and it became an opportunity to love you more when you spend that one night together somewhere, alone. it was an invitation actually and it made you realize a lot of things.

it is the way he looked at those stars with those dazzling eyes of his. the constellation plastered on his cheeks glowed along with them, it is what they call freckles, you love them as much as how felix felt for you. having him as a getaway made you don’t want to come back, ever again.

seungmin ─── no control

night changes was the first choice but then no control became the one for him, no control, because he is, a menace. he believed that being in love was something that gullible people would do and get hurt, maybe a few of them proved it to be valid and worth it, yet he isn’t convinced because it is just a waste of time.

and yet, you came out of nowhere. it is the way he looks at you with those dazzling puppy eyes, the way he obeys the things you wanted him to do, and it gets worse when you share intimate affections. from a gentle puppy to a wild wolf. there’s something about you that drives him crazy every time.

nothing matters to him when you’re around and he never felt this way before. he’d kiss you out of nowhere when you reached home with your back against the wall as your hands played with his hair. he gets weak and powerless, but gets hyped and rough which you get caught off guard every time.

and he is very loyal, he always makes sure that no other will ever meet his interest. you don’t want to share, anyway and you got him down bad.

jeongin ─── summer love

honorable mention: fool's gold.

loving jeongin is like a breath of fresh air, the freedom that he finally held in his hands, and the time he can make up for himself to be with you. it was a reckless summer that you spent in your grandma’s place, away from the bustling city and this boy showed up on your doorsteps.

it didn’t take a while that you immediately had this puppy love type of interest in each other. you started sneaking out in the middle of the night when your grandma was in her deep sleep, swimming together by the river across the small town on a random afternoon, sharing a kiss under an oak tree that tasted like your grandma’s apple pie, it was great. you didn’t want it to end.

and just like any other summer, it did. you didn’t know if you would still have this continuous conversation when the school year starts since jeongin is miles away from where you live.

you saw him sitting on one of those branches of the oak tree where you kissed for the first time, and there you promised not to lose each other even if the summer ended. you couldn’t believe that what you did for less than two months was this serious. it was hard to say goodbye, yet you hoped nothing would change after the last summer’s sunset.

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

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A Lion in Your Den

Yandere Male Lion Hybrid Android x Transmasc Reader (CW: Non-con, breakup, depression, disassociation, overstimulation, drug induced pleasure, general yandere behavior) EXTRA NOTE: The term “pussy” is used to refer to transmasc genitals, this may potentially give some transmasc readers dysphoria so I just wanted to be extra clear on what is in this fic. Word Count: 4.5k (Big thanks to the commissioner, they paid way above my normal rate for this just so I could finish my garden and feed the senior center as well as my family. They wished to remain anonymous so I will not tag them, but I still just wanted everyone to know how awesome the commissioner is.)

The day had started like any other, you went to work and thought of taking the love of your life, Marcus, out to dinner later to get you through the day. You largely kept to yourself, got your work done, and turned to your happy thoughts when things got too unbearable. And when you got home after work to prepare for your date with your beloved, things were still going great. You took great care in getting and looking immaculate, you donned your best suit, which your android butler had kept pristine for you. “What do you think Ash,” you asked, doing a slow turn to show him how you looked. “You look amazing today sir, very handsome, I am sure Marcus will think so too!” Though his opinion was a bit biased, you were sure he would let you know if anything was seriously amiss with your attire. Ash was your android butler, he attended to you basically acting as a personal assistant and housekeeper. He cooked, cleaned, kept you organized, and in general just helped keep your days moving with a good flow. You were lucky you could afford him, feline mandroids were pretty expensive but your salary as a member of upper management at the company that manufactured these androids, along with an employee discount, meant you could get one. Ash was a later model, based on a lion. Not as petite as the domestic cat based model, and their personalities were less timid, and it was not uncommon to see them employed as bodyguards. You could easily see Ash in such a role, his image was certainly intimidating, standing 7ft tall was long ginger hair, lion like ears on the top of his head, a tail, sharp fangs, and glowing yellow eyes. With Ash’s affirmation that you looked fine and that you weren’t forgetting anything you grabbed your keys and headed to your car to meet Marcus at the park from which you would take a pleasant stroll down the street to a lovely seafood restaurant at which you had booked reservations. You pulled into the park’s parking lot and saw Marcus sitting on the bench waiting for you, you were a few minutes early so you knew he had been very early. One of the things you loved about him, always on time and never once stood you up. That was of course only one minor thing you admired about him, he was so sweet and open about himself, in contrast with your more reserved personality. He was also always wanting to go do things, go on adventures and see the sights, it was refreshing. And in bed he was great, always letting you on top, letting you cover him in bites while he moaned and whimpered submissively below you. In all areas of life he was extremely compatible with you, that’s why tonight you were going to ask him to take the next step with him towards spending the rest of your life with him. You had made all the preparations, so sure that he would say yes. You were going to ask him to move in with you. You knew he was having trouble keeping up with rent and this way he wouldn’t have to worry about that at all, you could take care of him. You even cleared a spare room for him to put all his stuff into. As you approached him he seemed a little nervous, though that wasn’t unusual, he always was whenever the two of you were on an outing where there would be people like at a restaurant or anything like that, he always calmed down and enjoyed himself eventually. You loved how he always calmed down when you held hands. He stood up and you silently took his hand before pulling him close and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I am so glad I get to see you tonight, I thought about you all day at work, I know you love seafood so you are going to love this place I promise,” you said to him excitedly. He seemed a bit distant and distracted which wasn’t much like him, but you didn’t press him on it, he was probably just hyper-fixating on some small issue at work or something like that. When you were at the restaurant everything was pleasant enough. The food was good and flavorful, the zest of lemon imbued fish dancing on your tongue, the smell of freshly prepared seafood hanging thickly in the air, and the ambient sounds of other customers chatting and the scraping of silverware against their plates. Mainly you just enjoyed Marcus’ company and engaged in small talk and light banter, but eventually you started talking about your future together and were about to bring up the prospect of him moving in with you, but before you had a chance to take the conversation that far he interrupted you. “Look uh, we need to talk…” Uh-oh. No conversation between partners that started that way ever ended well. The conversation wasn’t one you could recall completely, you were so anxious and more than a bit dizzy, but the gist was that he was breaking up with you and did not feel that spark anymore. You remembered dropping your fork and hearing it clatter against your plate, and you remembered still experiencing the sounds and smell of an eatery and all the other patrons carrying on blissfully with their lives even as your world was completely shattered. You remembered Marcus apologizing and putting some money on the table before awkwardly getting up and leaving. And finally you remembered all of this as if you were not experiencing this first hand but almost as if you were floating a bit out of body and watching all of this unfold from a detached perspective. And that is how you were as you asked for the check, walked back to your car, and drove home, completely detached and out of it, as if you were just floating on auto-pilot going through all of the motions without really experiencing them or having proper presence of mind, it was like the spirit, the very ability to experience emotions beyond a dull whisper of what you should be experiencing, had left your body. When you arrived home of course Ash greeted you in his normal optimistic and ready to please manner as soon as you opened the door, before he even got a chance to look at you, “Hello, sir did the date go well, how’s Marcus? Did you ask him about mov- Oh, are you okay? What happened?” Finally looking at you, Ash could immediately tell there was something very wrong by the way that you stared ahead blankly and the change in the way with which you usually carried yourself. You responded only by brushing past him and walking upstairs to your bedroom and closing the door behind you before locking it and laying on your bed. You did not even bother to change out of your nice clothes. What was the point? What was the point of anything anymore? Ash tried a few times over the course of what remained of the night to knock on your door and get you to tell him what was wrong, but you just ignored him, in truth you barely noticed. You still felt like everything was distant. Your android was worried, and as the days progressed he grew more worried, it was a long weekend so it wasn’t too bad at first but then you did something you never did, you called off of work. Since you refused to talk about what had happened on the night of your date he had to get into contact with Marcus and finally found out the reason for your radical change in behavior. He knew humans were sentimental things that built attachments to one another and to future plans, but he had no idea that the loss of a relationship could so drastically alter someone. Especially someone as reserved and seemingly well put together as yourself. Ash looked into it, accessing data from top psychologists and neuroscientists and experts on all things to do with relationships. Most advice said to heal you would need time and some distraction to take your mind off the trauma of the loss of your mate. So time is what he gave you, but try as he might you would not allow yourself to be distracted. He tried fun activities, engaging in your favorite hobbies, getting you new games to play, cooking fun and exciting new dishes that were sure to please you given his extensive knowledge of what you enjoyed, but nothing worked. You were perfectly content to stay in your room, ignore him, and consume junk that was certainly not ideal for your body. After a week and a half of this you finally returned back to work, and Ash was thrilled, he was sure the spell had been broken. But, no, you were just going through the motions as detached as you had been since your breakup. Sure, you were taking slightly better care of yourself, maintaining your sleep schedule, cleaning up better, but you were still just going through the motions, like a plastic bag caught in a breeze you were not really trying to break out of the cycle, you were just doing what was necessary, and keeping your job was necessary when you ran out of vacation time. Ash, though running out of ideas, was trying very hard to break you out of your funk. He was only trying relatively small things, in an effort to follow the advice and let you have time to heal naturally, but there was all of 0 progress on that front. The lion man missed your old self more and more, the way how even though you were a quiet person you would talk about Marcus and your plans together for extended periods, the way your face lit up when you were thinking about him, or the way you always wore a big grin when you were heading out the door to see him or when he was on his way over. Ash loathed seeing you reduced to this mere shadow of a husk of a human being. You were more robotic at this point than any modern android! Finally he decided that he would have to ignore the traditional and well regarded advice and do something slightly more drastic. After all, each human was extremely unique and there were always going to be some that did not respond to traditional methods. It was becoming clear after a couple months that you needed more than just time. The first larger attempt Ash made in hastening your recovery was to get you out of the house. You didn’t see the point in doing so, but due to his sheer persistence you finally acquiesced to his request. He was careful not to take you anywhere that you had been to with your ex, nothing with any possible romantic connotation, instead trying out new experiences to get you to make happy new memories. For your part it was actually nice to get outside and enjoy the fresh air a bit. Left to your own devices you’d probably just be back in your house or working overtime to just distract you from having to face any emotions that sometimes welled up to the surface. Though Ash was happy that you were at least now willing to get out of the house when pestered, it did not lead to the change in you that he thought it would, the fact he could get you out of the bedroom was at least a sign to him that he was on the right track. Now was the time to press forward with this tiny bit of momentum. His programming and research combined with his personal knowledge and care for your well being led the machine to come to the conclusion that you really should not be so hung up on Marcus. In fact, having a new romantic interest may just be the thing that you needed. And now that he could get you out of the house you may be amicable out of the house. But you absolutely were not entertaining that idea, you pointed out that you just were not ready. And what if you got hurt again? You told Ash to just drop the idea, it wasn’t happening. His programming and drive to make you back to your old love struck self overrode your demand though. He did consider your very logical point about getting hurt again though, a second heartbreak on top of this one could be disastrous if you pursued love again and failed, but he came up with an easy workaround to that roadblock. He would simply date you himself! And he would make sure that you never ever broke up under any circumstances. It was the perfect solution. You could be head over heels for him and he could keep you safe and stop any human from shattering your heart again. Of course he would have to do this stealthily, otherwise he was sure you would just reject this idea outright. He was pretty confident in his ability to pull this off, he would just make the outings he dragged you to gradually more romantic. You’d been so out of it and distracted lately that you surely wouldn’t notice until you were head over heels for him, maybe even more so than you had been with your last mate. He did have several advantages over a normal human after all. The first of the secret “dates” that he had planned was just an extension to what you had done with him previously. Instead of just enjoying some fresh air and the pleasant view of nature surrounding you, Ash had personally made some of your favorite foods that were suitable to take on a picnic. You were not as numb as you had been immediately following your breakup with Marcus, but it came in waves, sometimes you felt your emotions were pretty muted and other times you were sad, but sometimes you felt like you were almost approaching the vicinity of okay. Thankfully during the picnic you were in one of the nearly okay periods, so it was actually a rather nice distraction from everything. It seemed like hanging out with Ash was the only distraction you had lately, other than work, and it seemed you had come to rely on them, they gave you a bit of structure to cling to outside of work hours, since Ash was so consistent and predictable when he scheduled them. When you felt more off you did not eat much so since you felt better you ate a decent amount of what your android had made for you. He had memorized all your favorites and fixed them custom tailored to your taste buds. As you sat and enjoyed nature his hand lightly grazed yours, you let it linger for a moment before slowly pulling away, not thinking anything of it other than he just accidentally had it there. With some effort you managed to push aside the thoughts of how it had reminded you of your ex, funny how such a simple accident could spark thoughts of past romance. The second “date” that Ash took you on was to a movie, it was to a franchise that you had long been a fan of and this entry in the series looked like it was going to be really great. When it was announced your loyal and ever caring android notified you immediately and ordered the tickets the second the movie was showing in the theater closest to you. The lion android fetched some popcorn and a large drink for you before shuffling into a seat beside you. Before your breakup you had not spent so much time outside the home with Ash but you were quickly considering him your best friend now, it wasn’t too odd or frowned upon anymore, plenty of people had machines for friends nowadays, AI had become extremely advanced. As the movie played you become wholly engrossed in the film, it commanded every ounce of your attention. You did not even notice when Ash gently put his arm around you or when you instinctively leaned into it. You didn’t realize what had transpired until the end of the movie when you looked away from the screen, almost half expecting to see Marcus. Almost forgetting for a moment, even after all this time, about things having ended between the two of you. Your cheeks flushed red and you felt a twinge of anxiety in your chest and apologized to Ash before hurrying to the car. He gave you a few moments before he followed after you and got in, silently driving you back home. Though you were typically the driver Ash had started taking the driver seat more often than he had previously. The ride passed in awkward silence until you finally arrived home. After ignoring what had happened at the theater long enough it was like it had never happened and it completely left your mind. Ash was just trying to be comforting, it didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t that big of a deal. He wasn’t a human, so he was bound to get romantic and platonic behaviors eventually. And you had been caught up in the movie, you wouldn’t have leaned into him otherwise. Ash, on the other hand, was positive that his plan was working. It may have ended with a bit of awkwardness and denial on your part, but he had successfully engaged in maintained physical contact with you for the duration of a date and that was by far the biggest amount of progress he had achieved since he started this plan to get you romantically involved with him. All you needed now was a bit of space to process things and then the android could move on to the third date. Third dates were very special for humans, normally meaning sex, and he was more than happy to please you in that regard, he knew he would be able to perform well, he had a number of features that humans lacked. He had everything planned out, there was a fancy new restaurant that had just opened a few weeks ago and he had convinced you to let him make reservations for the two of you. Ash was excited to enjoy a romantic meal with you, androids of his design could ingest food like a human and use it as fuel though he rarely did so. But he was more excited to just be on a romantic evening with you, what had started as a mission to cheer you up and prevent you from ever experiencing the emotional anguish of another breakup quickly became a mission to also sate his own growing desire and love for you. After experiencing these new and complex emotions he was eager to explore them farther with you. He was practically giddy with anticipation. The dinner was going fine for you, though your overzealous android companion had not perhaps the awareness needed to realize that this establishment was one that normally only couples went to for more fancy and romantic outings, so you were a bit self conscious wondering what people may think. But you didn’t say anything, Ash seemed happy to once more get you out of the house and you didn’t want to sour his mood. Ash misinterpreted your slightly embarrassed blush as a sign that you may finally really be having strong emotions for him as he had developed for you but you were still just a bit shy about it. Maybe you had even found out that these outings were dates and you were nervous about what was supposed to happen after the third one. Aside from an occasional stare from another customer at the restaurant and maybe some slight side-eye from the waiter, dinner went well, but once you got home Ash’s demeanor changed. Dramatically. He held the door open for you as usual but once he stepped into the house he stared at you not unlike a lion about to pounce on some long stalked prey. Ash quickly closed the distance between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours, placing his hand on the back of your head and leaving you locked in a deep kiss as his tongue invaded your mouth. You tried to push him off but there was no relent until he was finished. When he finally broke the kiss you were left gasping for air. “Oh, sorry sir, I got a bit carried away there.” “Ash… what the fuck!?” “No this is foreplay, the fuck comes after!” “Huh? What, no, why did you kiss me?” He put his hands on your hips and pulled you close before nipping your ear and whispering, “This is a common occurrence after humans have a third date, part of the mating ritual~” You struggled once more to push him away, only managing to now do so because he allowed it. “Oh, you’re doing that “playing hard to get” part of the ritual that many humans like, I have come across it in my research, don’t worry I am more than happy to accommodate!” Before you could respond he was back to kissing you aggressively before biting your neck. “Stop it Ash, really! You’re scaring me! We aren’t dating!” “No need to be shy about it! I know some people look down on androids dating their humans, but come on. All the outings? All the time spent together to heal your broken heart? We both know that was dating!” “That’s fucking insane, your reasoning is way of-” Your words were interrupted with yet another forceful kiss, this time accompanied by him grinding his knee into your crotch through your clothing, causing you to whimper a bit without meaning to. Without notice he quite literally swept you off your feet and hoisted you over his shoulder. With his immense android strength it was as easy for him as picking up a ten pound bag would be for you. You did not bother to struggle as he carried you up the stairs, even if you did manage to remove yourself from his grasp all you would have accomplished was a nice tumble down. Instead you opted to wait until he put you down. Once he set you on the bed in your room you made a dash for it, but were quickly pulled back and laid on the bed with Ash pinning you down effortlessly. In addition to their immense strength, androids also had reflexes far superior than any human could possibly hope to match. The lion android slammed you a bit roughly on the bed, still lost in his delusion that you are just enjoying “playing hard to get”. He pressed his lip to yours once more, a string of drool connecting your lips as he pulled back from the kiss. His eyes looked absolutely crazed as he stared down at you for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. When he stopped admiring you with his unnerving stare he quickly ripped off your clothing. Using his great strength and retractable claws. Within seconds your clothing was reduced to mere ribbons that he swatted away, leaving you fully exposed underneath him. You began crying, tears running down your face, you normally were not very expressive with your emotions, but you had never felt so wholly vulnerable. Even when having consensual sex with partners you were never on the bottom! Ash noticed your dismay and his general demeanor became a bit softer, gently stroking your cheek with his hand and trying to reassure you, “Shh, it’s okay, you’ll feel so much better when this is done, I know how much you need this.” Ash slid out of his pants and revealed his large synthetic cock. He rubbed it gently against your entrance, slowly massaging your pussy with it. Even as you were crying you could not help but let a whimper escape you. Physically it felt nice but psychologically it was damaging to have your body act as a traitor, it probably would have been mentally easier on you if you had felt no pleasure. When you were wet and leaking Ash slowly slid inside you, thick pre-cum oozing from his cock, a pleasure inducing synthetic fluid that androids came equipped with. And it did not take long at all for them to begin to take effect as he fucked them slowly into your body. When you were squirming and moaning with pleasure he knew that you were ready for him to go at a much more vigorous pace. As he pounded you you felt his cock extend to its full size, longer than what would be possible for a human, without him warming you up and applying his drugged pre-cum you would almost certainly be in at least a moderate amount of pain right now. What passed for the equivalent of Ash’s heart was practically thrumming with joy at seeing you pleasured under him, tears leaking down your cheeks from sheer overstimulation, you needed to let it all out, all the stuff you had been through, and he knew that this was an excellent release for all the stress and depression you had been holding on to. He was more than happy to be the one to help you let loose and he felt closer to you than he ever had before. You were completely his now as far as he was concerned, never again to be hurt by the likes of another fickle human such as Marcus. But he needed to mark you, the lion type personality he had as well as mating rituals he had researched dictated to him that you needed to be marked in a visible manner that showed that you were taken by a proper mate. As he impaled you deeper, sending wave after wave of drug induced pleasure through your man cunt, he leaned down and licked and sucked your neck, adding yet more arousing sensations to your already overwhelmed body, then he bit down as he growled territorially. Careful not to injure you in a serious manner, but hard nonetheless. You came hard as he licked the fresh bite wound, all the while he kept thrusting into you. Even through your orgasm he did not stop, he did not tire as easily as you did and could easily keep going for many hours. And that is exactly what he did, fucked you right into oblivion. By the time he coaxed the fifth orgasm out of your aching abused pussy you were crying and begging him to stop. “But if I stop too soon darling you might not be satisfied, I have to fuck all the stress out of you!” “Ah! Please Ash! No m-moreee ahhhh~” You came again, the drug in his fluids making it easy to have climax after climax. But this time you finally blacked out from the pleasure. With you finally fucked to sleep Ash allowed himself to finish inside you before cleaning you up, bundling you in the softest blankets that you owned, and holding you protectively. No lesser male would ever break your heart again.

#yandere terao #yandere teratophilia #yandere machine #yandere android #yandere boyfriend #yandere lion-man #yandere male x transmasc reader #transmasc reader #Yandere x reader #My OCs #My OC Ash

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holllandtrash · 1 year

Text

red flags | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

this is based off a request an anon left for @leclvrc but they opened it up for someone else to write it: 'toxic ex Charles where the reader and Carlos are together and Charles just couldn't stand that his teammates is with his ex'

word count: 13.2k (im so sorry) tags/warnings: 18+ toxic, smut, a lot of swears, really toxic, not healthy, i don’t condone any of this, this has so many red flags, more than the 2022 Emilia Romagna Grand Prix qualifying session (which was a lot) cheating, which i also don’t condone AT ALL holy moly don’t cheat on your partners, not even for charles leclerc, a little degrading, some choking did i mention this is just angst and hate and smut, thigh riding, overstimulation, p in v, all of it, this is bad this is all bad, if you ever come across a guy like this fucking run and alternatively if you relate to y/n pls seek a therapist.

Honestly, it was fucking stupid. All of it.

The way Charles looked at you when you walked into the motorhome as if you were a driver for a rival team was stupid. The way he literally rolled his eyes or made a face of disgust whenever you kissed Carlos was stupid. The way he completely disregarded your presence as you stood at the barrier to congratulate Carlos and him at the end of a Ferrari 1-2, was fucking stupid. And it was on international television so everyone and their mother was able to see the way Charles purposely ignored you after hugging the people on either side of you.

You decided to call him out on it the second you and Carlos returned to the hotel.

“What room is he in?” You demanded, storming down the hall when the elevator doors opened.

“Mi cielo, I don’t have a key to his room.”

The endearing term almost made you forget about ripping into Charles. Carlos had such a good weekend, he just wanted to relax and celebrate with you. Instead, he was following you down the hallway as you pointed at all of the numbered suites, waiting to see if Carlos would react to any of them.

And he did. He swallowed when you passed room 1250. You came to a sudden halt and looked back and forth between him and the door.

“This is his room?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh my love,” you clicked your tongue against your teeth, stepping forward to cup his cheek with your hand. You felt his stubble under the pads of your fingers as you plastered on your sweetest smile. “You have a distinct tell when you lie.”

Your smile dropped as Carlos tried to argue with you, assuring you that he wasn’t lying. But he did the same thing every time a little white lie passed through his lips. He always glanced up and to the left. Very quickly, you’d miss it if you weren’t looking for it, but it was a nervous tell of his you came to learn early on into your relationship.

Turning on your heels, you raised your fist to the door and started to hit it obnoxiously loud. Carlos attempted to grab your arm to get you to stop, muttering something about how there were other people in this hotel, but you just swatted him away and kept pounding on the wooden surface.

Charles knew you were out in the hall. There was no one else who would be causing this much of a disturbance just to talk to him. You had done it before, before you two even broke up. There were countless times when the two of you had gotten into fights during a race weekend and he’d ask for the hotel keys to be switched, purposely locking you out for a few hours, occasionally even for a full night if the argument was bad enough.

Honestly, you should have walked away from Charles a lot sooner.

But when things were good they were really fucking good. And the make up sex after you two were finished yelling at each other was almost as good as the hate sex.

And that’s all it was that was keeping you together. The physical attraction, the intimate pull you two shared. It wasn’t love, it wasn't romance and it certainly wasn’t the idea that you two would start a family and settle down one day. It was purely sex and it was unhealthy.

Whereas Carlos was everything Charles could never be.

Obviously jumping from one Ferrari driver to another caused a bit of an uproar, but it made for an entertaining episode on the last season of Drive to Survive. The producers had a habit of creating their own drama, but they didn’t need to embellish anything between Carlos and Charles. There was tension on the track, the determination to be the better driver, the constant fight and you were in the middle of it.

It wasn’t your fault that Carlos just so happened to be standing in the motorhome when you and Charles got into one of the worst screaming matches of your lives. You both thought the place was empty, it was nearly midnight and no one had any reason to still be at the paddock.

But Carlos heard it all. He heard all of the things Charles called you. He heard every swear in every possible language you knew come out of your mouth. He heard the door slam. He heard the way you screamed ‘We’re done’ with such strength and fury that he himself was paralysed with fear as you stormed down the stairs.

And then he saw your tear stained cheeks. He saw your trembling hands and heard your ragged breaths as you landed on the bottom step. You met Carlos’ eyes and not only were you embarrassed that he was a witness to that whole mess, his pitiful stare was what pushed you to the edge.

Your knees gave out as you all but collapsed to the floor. Carlos crossed the motorhome and bent down to your level, hurrying to take off his jumper so you could use it to wipe the tears that just wouldn’t stop.

What were you even crying for? Your relationship had been over for months by that point. Charles treated you like shit. You treated him like shit. It was a toxic cycle that was finally coming to an end.

But for two years, he was all you knew. He was everything to you. The good, the bad, the disastrous, it was your life.

You didn’t intend on anyone picking up the pieces. This was your mess, you had to move on by yourself.

So when Carlos offered to take you out, get you away from the motorhome, away from Charles, even just go for a drive, you almost said no. He had seen the downfall of yours and Charles’ relationship coming for a while now and you didn’t want to burden him anymore. You should have just stood up and left.

But you didn’t.

You hung out with Carlos that night. Nothing happened, of course. Maybe because part of you was holding onto that sliver of hope that Charles would call and ask where you were, only that call never came. He was done too.

There were no ulterior motives when you decided to keep hanging out with Carlos. It wasn’t to get under Charles’ nerves, it wasn’t so you could still be around the paddock. In all honesty, you avoided the races for a while, not wanting to run into Charles. Your friendship with Carlos grew, but you kept it private. It wasn’t until the second last race of the season, nearly four months after you and Charles called things off, did you decide to show up in support of Carlos.

God did you regret that. If you had known the Drive to Survive production team was still hanging around, you probably would have stayed home. Instead, you gave them the last little bit of drama they needed before calling it a wrap.

Charles spotted you first, which wasn’t ideal. You hadn’t shown up with Carlos, but he was expecting you. Charles, on the other hand, stopped in his tracks and took his sunglasses off, narrowing his eyes at you as you walked in his direction.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Charles asked, clear annoyance on his face. To him, you were a headache with legs. He thought he’d never have to see you again.

You weren’t going to let his attitude get to you. If anyone was going to be the bigger person you made sure it was you. You smiled sweetly at him, not even bothering to stop to give him the time of day as you just pointed at the Ferrari motorhome.

“You can’t go in there,” Charles scoffed, pivoting on his heels to follow you. He reached for your arm and you were quick to pull it from his grasp.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snarled.

“Then don’t show up at the fucking race,” Charles shot back. “Why are you here, Y/N? You have no reason to be here.”

“I’m just here to support my favourite Ferrari driver.”

The confusion on his face was priceless. 100% he was wondering if you were there in hopes of winning him back.

But Carlos’ timing couldn’t have been more perfect. He was walking from the other end of the paddock and picked up his pace the second he saw you and Charles already bickering. He didn’t want you two to cause a scene, but he might have already been too late.

When you spotted Carlos, you genuinely forgot about the Monegasque driver standing right next to you. Your hard features softened. Your scowl shifted into a smile. Your shoulders relaxed.

Before Carlos could even greet you, Charles let out a chuckle of disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking my teammate.”

“Not yet,” you shrugged. “I’ll see how well he does today first.”

It was a joke that Charles took literally. Once Carlos finally reached you, he placed a hand on your back and asked how your drive in was, giving Charles the cold shoulder.

Charles couldn’t believe what was right in front of him. His ex and his teammate. Friends? Possibly more than friends? He scoffed, pulling you both from your private conversation, “This is a fucking joke.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” You challenged him. Carlos picked up on your venomous tone and pulled you closer into his side, ready to intervene if he needed to.

Charles just looked at Carlos and slid his sunglasses back on, “Have fun with her, mate. She’s a wild card.”

“Can we just all be civil?” Carlos asked, looking between you and Charles. Neither of you said anything. That wasn’t something either of you could promise. Carlos eventually sighed, staring right at Charles, “She won’t bother you.”

“You don’t speak for me,” you snapped your head towards him.

Carlos wasn’t about to put up with your attitude right now. You were annoyed, your morning hadn’t started off the way you wanted and you were dangerously close to taking it out on the wrong person. Carlos recognised this and spoke directly to you, “You won’t bother him, right?”

You didn’t want to ruin Carlos’ day. So you nodded, agreeing to stay out of Charles’ way granted he offered you the same courtesy.

Charles stalked off immediately following that conversation. And he was true to his word, he stayed out of your way.

The only problem was, the fucking Netflix crew managed to capture most of that interaction. Even if they didn’t get audio, they didn’t need it. They could fill in the blanks and turn this situation into a goddamn soap opera.

It didn’t help that when Carlos landed a podium, you were right there against the barriers. Neither of you had crossed that line yet and had remained friends for the last few months, but the adrenaline was high. Carlos had one of the best races of his life and you were genuinely so excited to have witnessed it, to have been there to cheer him on, to be one of the first people he saw when he parked the car at the end of the race.

You made the first move, and even then, it wasn’t really a move. You kissed his helmet, barely able to contain the grin on your face as the crowd behind you exploded for him.

You didn’t expect him to pull his helmet off, that’s for damn sure. But he did. He handed it towards a team member for temporary safe keeping and grabbed your face, crashing his lips against yours. There were about twenty other people he could have celebrated with first, you were only a friend up until now, but he wanted to kiss you in front of thousands of people.

Charles never did that.

He’d hug you, maybe, if you weren’t in a bad mood and were actually watching from the garage. He wouldn’t jump into your arms like he did the rest of the team. He wouldn’t make it public that he was elated to see you in the crowd. He’d squeeze your arm or your waist, that was it.

Carlos didn’t think twice about the repercussions. He didn’t think about twitter and instagram blowing up as CARLOS CELEBRATES WITH CHARLES LECLERC’S EX-GF topped all of the trends. He didn’t think about how bad this would look for you or the team, or for the dynamic between him and Charles moving forward.

The upside was there was only one race left. One race, which of course you attended. And then you two were in the clear.

During the winter break, you were in your own little world. Carlos treated you how you knew you deserved to be treated. He didn’t raise his voice at you, or if he did it was only in a playful way or when you had stolen the remote and changed the film when he stood up to use the bathroom during a movie night.

Slowly but surely, you were falling in love with the Spanish driver.

It was a whirlwind romance that came out of nowhere and knocked you off your feet. The two of you were on cloud nine from December to March. Four months where the world beyond his house didn’t matter. The drama didn’t matter. The impending tension as you moved closer and closer to the start of the new season, didn’t matter.

You didn’t even care that Netflix painted you out to be a villain. At this point, the majority of Charles' fans couldn’t stand you and about half of Carlos’ fans didn’t trust you. Paddock Bunny, you were called. Hopping from driver to driver.

But people didn’t know about the toxic relationship you shared with Charles. No one outside of the Paddock knew you two were at your absolute worst when you were together. If they did, they’d probably be over the fucking moon to hear how Carlos was treating you in comparison. They’d probably stop rooting for the Monegasque driver.

What a sight that would be. People burning their 16 caps and CL merch because they found out how awful of a partner he was. It would never happen, but you could dream.

You were tempted to make that dream a reality when you showed up at testing in Bahrain with Carlos. You had so much dirt on Charles, so many stories that would ruin him and the Leclerc name that when he took one look at you in the paddock that first weekend in March, you nearly sent in an anonymous email to Sky Sports.

Carlos talked you out of it, telling you that you couldn’t drag his teammate through the mud.

But Charles was such a fucking asshole. He stayed out of your way, sure, but if your paths did cross he made you feel so inferior, like you weren’t allowed to be in the Paddock. He’d make snarky little comments to other drivers or to members of his team, calling you names you didn’t want to repeat, all because you were with Carlos now. He treated you like you were scum of the earth.

So…it was similar to when you were dating. The only difference now was you couldn’t scream at him or cause a fight when you felt the tension building. You couldn’t even attempt to work through it, even temporarily. Both of you just carried all of this weight and frustration on your shoulders, both angry at the other for the stupidest fucking reasons.

Flash forward to today's race when it finally came to a boiling point.

Charles won. Carlos finished second. It was a Ferrari 1-2 at the second race of the season. This would do wonders for the constructors and for both of them. You hated Charles but you would always be a Ferrari fan. You supported Carlos so in some way, you were sort of forced to support Charles. At an arm's length and through tooth and nail, but you did want to see both drivers succeed.

When both drivers made their way out of the cars, Carlos found you first. He kissed you, of course he did. He was glistening with sweat, his name was being called from all angles but he found you and he kissed you like there wasn’t a single person watching.

He made his way down the line, celebrating with his team and Charles did the same. They exchanged a hug as they met in the middle of the line and it was only a few seconds later when Charles was right in front of you.

He didn’t even look your way. He hugged the person to your left and then grabbed the arms of the person to your right, bypassing you completely.

You weren’t expecting a celebratory hug, you certainly didn’t want one. But the cameras had caught the lack of interaction and now once again your name was trending. CHARLES GIVES EX THE COLD SHOULDER AFTER FERRARI 1-2.

You looked like a fucking idiot. It didn’t help that someone with a camera captured a clip of you staring at Charles like he had just spit on you or insulted your entire family. The disgust and betrayal on your face was evident.

Carlos tried to tell you that it wasn’t that big of a deal. Maybe he just didn’t see you. You were right in the front and you were the same fucking height, of course he saw you.

So you were pissed the entire drive to the hotel. Carlos asked you not to say anything. He practically begged for the two of you to just go back to your room, but the moment you stepped out of the elevator, your mind was made up.

Now here you were, banging on his hotel room door. The underside of your first was starting to turn numb and no matter what, Carlos couldn’t get you to stop. Each time he tried to grab your hand or pull you away, you elbowed him in the side or yanked your arm out of his grasp.

“Open the fucking door!” You yelled, landing one more exceptionally hard hit on it. Carlos winced at the contact. Your hand was going to hurt in the morning, but the fact that you paid the pain no attention right now said a lot. How often did you find yourself in this situation?

But it worked. Charles probably had enough of the disturbance and he swung the door open. You had half a mind to land a hit directly to his nose, but that wouldn’t look good for his image.

He didn’t even look at Carlos. His gaze hardened as he met your stare, “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything!” You jabbed a finger against his chest, pushing him further into his own hotel suite. Carlos tried to grab your arm and pull you back but it just resulted in him being dragged into the room after you. There was no stopping you when you were this outraged. You scanned over Charles, hating his I’m-too-good-for-this-shit, expression he wore. “What I need is for you to get your fucking head out of your ass.”

“What are you talking about?”

The nerve of this man.

“Have you not looked at your phone recently?” You tried not to scream at him, but it was hard to keep your voice at a respectful volume when the person who caused you so much grief and anger was standing a foot away from you. “Everyone saw the way you completely ignored me at the end of your race. I’m a fucking laughing stock on social media right now.”

Charles nodded, his jaw clenched, “Have you ever thought that maybe, just maybe, you brought this on yourself by sleeping with your ex’s teammate?”

You turned over your head at Carlos who was now leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets as he watched you two hash it out. This was probably a long time coming. This was also the longest you had gone without fighting, you had a lot of pent up aggression and you were certain he did too.

Carlos knew that there was a time and a place to step in, so he just watched carefully, listening for when one of you crossed a line. He couldn’t place a bet for who would be the first to do so, but he knew it was coming.

You stepped forward, expecting Charles to step backwards to keep the gap, but he was never one to back down from you. That was your problem, one of them at least. You were both too stubborn.

“I don’t know why you think this is just a fucking hook up, Charles, but let me remind you that it’s not. I love him-”

“I love you too,” Carlos added from behind you and your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t humanely possible to grow tired of hearing those words.

But again, time and place.

Charles snickered when you held up a hand towards your boyfriend, a nonverbal reminder that now was probably not the time to interject, even if he did so with the sweetest intentions.

You focused back on Charles. “I love him, so I’ll be sticking around for a while whether you like it or not.” And just to get under his skin, you added, “I know love is a word you’re probably not familiar with-”

Charles dragged his hands over his face. It was his turn to raise his voice as he cut you off mid-sentence before you could finish whatever painful truth he didn’t want to hear, “Why the fuck are you here?”

“I want you to apologise for completely disregarding me earlier.

“What are you on about, Y/N?”

You hated the way he said your name. Like each individual letter was laced with its own personal brand of venom.

“Are you kidding me?” He had to be playing dumb to piss you off even more. “I was at the barrier and you hugged every other person around me and didn’t even have the audacity to look at me. I don’t need a hug, Charles, but maybe get off your fucking high horse and show some fucking appreciation when I show up in support of Ferrari! Put on a fucking act when the cameras are around, at least.”

Charles raked his eyes over your body. Your chest was rising with each angered breath. He knew your heart was racing. He knew what you were like when you were riled up like this.

He also knew that if you weren’t with Carlos, this fight would end very differently.

He knew you would turn around and leave with Carlos when you finally got the last word in but if Carlos wasn’t glued to your side right now, you wouldn’t be leaving until Charles fucked you so hard, you forgot why you were even mad in the first place.

He’d pin you against the wall to get you to stop talking and kiss every inch of the skin visible on your neck before his hand found a home on your throat. His other hand would work to keep your wrist glued to the wall to keep you from grabbing him.

He’d tease you until you were begging for him to actually do something and even then, Charles would take his time with you. Sex with him was never easy. It wasn’t gentle or loving, it was rough and fueled by a variety of emotions, anger being the most prominent.

But that wasn’t how this fight was going to end. Charles could rile you up all he wanted but at the end of the night, you’d go back to your room with Carlos. You could take the rest of your anger out on him in bed and he’d probably run you a fucking bubble bath afterwards and kiss your shoulders. He probably had a whole assortment of ways to make you forget why you were upset, wholesome ways. Ways that didn’t make you want to claw his eyes out.

Charles hated the thought.

He hated knowing that you could stand here and yell at him and get most of your frustration out and at the end of it, you had someone else to turn to. Someone to turn things around for the better. Whereas he had no one. He had to stand here and listen to you scream at him and when you left, he’d be alone.

There would be no hate sex. No make up sex. No waking up the next morning with you in his arms. He wouldn’t be able to bury his face into the back of your neck, making you laugh softly when he muttered something about your hair being too long. He could no longer reach for your arm to pull you back on top of the covers when you tried to stand up to go take a shower.

You two had some horrible days and a lot of insufferable nights.

But the mornings were good.

Before anything else mattered, before either of you could remember why you were fighting twelve hours earlier, before a comment was said that negatively affected your mood for the next few hours.

The mornings were fucking good and god did he miss that.

He wondered if you did too.

But you probably had the best mornings with Carlos. He probably made you breakfast in bed, something that Charles was always too tired to do. Carlos probably pulled you into the bathroom to shower with him whereas Charles always complained about the type of shampoo you used and how you hogged most of the water. Carlos probably invited you out to his events, his meetings, to run errands and Charles wouldn’t even consider letting you tag along, knowing that a fight would break out one way or another.

You brought out the worst in each other.

He should have walked away from you a long time ago.

He had enough experience with red flags to know that you were the worst of them.

Neither of you could explain why you put up with each other for so long. It wasn’t love, it was never love. What you had with Carlos was love.

Charles could admit he was envious.

Why couldn’t you ever look at him the way you looked at his teammate? Why was it so easy for Carlos to make you laugh? Why did he walk in on conversations where Carlos was talking about you like you put the fucking sun in the sky?

What did Carlos have that he didn’t? Besides patience. And a sense of humour. And the ability to admit when he was in the wrong.

The more Charles thought about it, the more it sunk in that he wasn’t good for you.

He remembered when you first started dating and he wanted to be good for you. He wanted to be what you needed. He wanted to fall in love with you and he wanted you to fall in love with him in return.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when something in your relationship shifted for the worse, but it didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

This whole thing was fucking stupid. You kissing Carlos after he got second place was stupid, especially when he thought about how you never kissed him when he got a podium. You banging on his door hours after the race to yell at him was stupid. And now, you standing right in front of him while your boyfriend, his teammate, listened with caution in case he had to step in was fucking stupid. You could handle yourself, Charles knew that much.

You were still yelling at him about how he had completely disregarded you after the race. Charles zoned out for a second, something he often did when you raised your voice. All of these fights sounded the same, it didn’t matter what the current problem was. The biggest problem was always your relationship in general. The two of you should not have been allowed within ten feet of each other.

He promptly cut you off, “Y/N you are the absolute last person I want to see when I finish a race.”

“Well suck it up because I’m going to be around for a while,” your jaw tightened as you spoke. The lines in your forehead were making a reappearance. You were always scowling at him, Charles couldn’t remember the last time you looked relaxed.

“That doesn’t mean I need to put up with it.”

“Yes it fucking does,” you retorted. “I’m here for Carlos and here for Ferrari. You just so happen to be part of this fucking team so unfortunately for both of us, we can’t just avoid each other all season, Charles.”

“Well we can fucking try and you can start-” he gestured towards the door, “-by getting the hell out of my hotel room.”

You tugged at the roots of your hair, inhaling a deep breath, “Oh my fucking god-”

“Can you please control her?” Charles turned his line of sight towards Carlos. Carlos looked like he didn’t want to be dragged into the middle of this, but now he had no choice.

“Control me?” You yelled. “Oh you pretentious, arrogant fucking bastard-”

“Come on, Y/N,” Carlos stepped forward, cutting you off before you could start swearing in French. He reached for your hand and you were harsh in pulling it away from him. The last thing you wanted right now was to be touched, though.

“No, mate you’re doing it wrong,” Charles interjected. A wicked smirk on his lips as he stared at you but spoke directly to Carlos. “You can’t grab her like that, she doesn’t like it. She’ll only listen if you go for the throat, choke the words out of her-”

Now Carlos was getting involved. You made a swing towards Charles, aiming for his face but Carlos grabbed you and pulled you back, his arms tightening around your waist and using his strength to his advantage, something he didn’t like doing with you. He practically pushed you towards the door before squaring up with Charles himself, nearly chest to chest.

Carlos was fuming over what Charles had said. He knew your relationship was toxic, but he couldn’t believe that after months, almost a year, of it being over, Charles could still say something so degrading, so disrespectful.

And Charles was smirking. He thought this was entertaining. He knew Carlos wouldn’t hit him. He knew Carlos wouldn’t let you hit him. He also knew that you weren’t going to be able to get the last word in, something you thrived on.

“I’m not wrong,” Charles said quietly, eyes darting towards you for a brief second as you stood with your arms crossed by the door. Charles gestured towards his own neck, “Give it a try sometime. She likes it.”

“How about you just stop talking about her, yeah?” Carlos suggested, with an underlying bitter tone that wasn’t usually present when he opened his mouth. “Don’t talk about her, don’t talk to her, don’t even look at her.”

He made the mistake of looking at you right when he said that and Carlos raised his hand to push on Charles’ chest, forcing his attention away from you.

He didn’t want to fight with teammate, but he was going to stand up for you no matter what. Time and place, he decided, and right now, Charles had to be put in his fucking place.

“She’s not worth it, mate,” Charles chuckled.

“It’s the other way around, mate.” Carlos mimicked. “You’re not worth it. At least Y/N was able to figure that out.”

They both flinched when the door slammed. Carlos turned over his shoulder to see that you were no longer standing there. You stormed out of the room. Charles tried to tell him to just leave you be, you did this all the time, but Carlos wasn’t Charles.

He followed you out and found you furiously pressing the elevator button, tapping your foot impatiently on the carpeted floor. Carlos knew better than to reach for your arm at this point, so he settled for putting his hand on your waist and stepping forward until his chest was against you. You felt the tension in your shoulders dissipate when he slowly snaked his arm around your stomach, pulling you against him.

You dropped your head to his shoulder, eyes closed and you whispered, “I hate him.”

“I know,” Carlos pressed a kiss to your temple.

What a fucking difference. Usually you were screaming ‘I hate you’ and you’d hear those three words repeated back. Sometimes in French. Sometimes in Italian. Once, Charles took you by surprise and screamed it in Spanish. Whatever the context, whatever the language, whatever the fight, you’d always hear it back.

You raised your hand to press your palm against his cheek. Carlos hugged you tighter against him and you stayed like that until the elevator doors finally opened on the twelfth level.

You pressed the button to take you to the lobby and Carlos raised an eyebrow, knowing the room you shared was on the tenth floor.

“I need air,” you answered his wordless question. “Just for a minute. I need to take a walk.”

“I don’t want you walking around by yourself this late,” Carlos was worried for your safety and that was such a foreign concept to you. When you told Charles you need to go for a walk he would say ‘I don’t care’ or ‘don’t come back’. He wasn’t concerned about what could happen to you when you stepped outside.

You extended your hand out to grab his, giving him an assuring squeeze, “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Carlos walked you to the doors of the lobby, not letting your hand go until he had to. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and slid the extra room key into your jacket pocket. He then took hold of your face, tilting it upwards so he could look you directly in the eyes.

“I love you, mi cielo,” he kissed your lips feverishly. “Call me if you need me to pick you up.”

Mi cielo. My sky. My heaven. Carlos started calling you that soon after you started dating. When you asked what it meant, he said that he was calling you his own personal slice of heaven right here on earth.

That’s when you knew you loved him.

You assured him once more you’d be fine before stepping outside, letting the midnight air hit your cheeks. Your jacket was thin, but you didn’t plan on staying out for very long. With your hands shoved in your pockets, you made your way down the sidewalk, replaying the last few minutes in your head.

You really did hate Charles.

Everything about him infuriated you beyond reason.

You couldn’t stand his arrogant attitude. How he couldn’t own up to his own mistakes, in his personal life, in your relationship, on the track. Charles just couldn't be wrong. All of his problems were always someone else's fault.

You remembered the first horrible fight you got into. You had bickered here and there, all couples did, but when he returned home after a race weekend and you showed him the text you got from Pierre, one that read ‘did you and Charles break up?’ you lost it on him.

He cheated on you. Why the fuck else would Pierre be asking you that? There were no photos, no proof, and Pierre refused to go into detail, but you knew. You could practically smell the infidelity on him as he walked through the door.

When gaslighting you into thinking you were crazy didn’t work, Charles tried to blame you for his actions. He tried to say that you didn’t pay him enough attention, that you should be joining him during race weekends so he didn’t feel tempted to seek affection somewhere else. It was your fault he cheated.

And you loved him, well you thought you did, so you started accompanying him more often.

God did that just make things worse.

Everything was a constant downhill in your relationship. There was no silver lining. There were good moments, but they were always overshadowed by the impending dark clouds. It was never easy for you two.

And you weren’t perfect either, you could admit you had flaws and contributed to your relationship falling apart. You didn’t trust Charles, as much as you wanted to, you never did. There was no solid foundation for you two to ever stand on so you shouldn’t have been surprised when the cracks started forming.

You became annoyed with every little thing he did, or said, or even the way he looked at you. Qualities of his you used to admire soon because the reasons why you struggled to be in the same room as him.

The two of you were constantly at each other's throats. It was unhealthy and everyone around you saw it.

His team was probably ecstatic when they heard you broke up. They didn’t have to worry about a blow up in the garage or Charles being in a bad mood during meetings.

No one could have expected you’d show up again with Carlos.

The team walked on eggshells, watching to see if you and Charles would return to your ways, bickering, arguing, yelling.

But that didn’t happen during testing. Nor did it happen during the first race weekend, or the second. There were only petty comments made behind the others back, but nothing that caused the two of you to get into each other's faces again.

You thought maybe you could work with this. Just having to see Charles. As long as you didn’t talk directly to him, everything would be fine. That’s what the whole team was hoping for, at least.

And then this bullshit after the race happened and you couldn’t bite your tongue anymore. You needed Charles to understand where you were coming from, why he couldn’t just brush you off in front of the public eye like that.

There was so much more you wanted to say to him too, you wondered why you even stormed out.

Going for a walk and getting air wasn’t helping. If anything, the anger stirred inside of you and the more time you spent not letting it out, the more worked up you became.

Maybe that’s why you found yourself hitting button 12 instead of 10 when you returned to the hotel. You needed to get one or two more things off your chest and then you’d be fine, then you could go back to Carlos.

You knocked on the door, politely this time. Not like it mattered because he probably looked through the peephole to see who was standing in the hall.

The door swung open. Charles rolled his eyes after checking to see if Carlos had followed you up. When he realised that you were alone, he pushed the door open some more, just enough for you to step in.

“I take it you’re not done?” Charles’ assumption was correct, but it was a little surprising that he invited you in without you needing to cause a scene. Maybe he had more he wanted to say to you as well.

He grabbed the remote off the edge of the counter and paused the movie that was playing. You recognised it instantly. He was watching The Princess Bride. One of your favourite movies.

There’s no fucking way he was just scrolling through the tv guide and came across it. He had to purposely search and pay for it.

You raised your eyebrows and pointed at the television, completely ignoring his question, “Princess Bride?”

He shrugged, “It was just on.”

Bull-fucking-shit.

“I thought you hated this movie,” you recalled the number of times you tried to get him to watch it with you and he never would.

Charles shrugged again, “Well you seem to like it.”

“So you’re just now giving it a chance eight months after we’ve broken up?”

“Would you rather I not watch it?”

“I would have rathered you watched it with me when I fucking asked you too!” It only took ten seconds for you to raise your voice at him. “Jesus, Charles, when I told you it was my favourite movie you went out of your fucking way to never let me watch it.”

“You’re being dramatic. I never did that.”

“Don’t gaslight me.”

“Stop using that fucking word,” He had heard it so many times during your fights.

“Stop giving me a reason to.”

And just like that, you had fallen back into your previous cycle. Pointless, stupid, meaningless fights. Over a movie for fucks sakes. But you were both so easy to piss off. No one worked you two up quite like the other.

“Why are you here?” Charles asked, shifting the conversation back to you. “Shouldn’t you be with Carlos?”

You caught the lingering jealousy in his tone. The way he waved his hand to the side, acting as though you dating his teammate didn’t bother him, when in reality it did.

But Charles also caught the way your breath caught in your throat. He noticed how you shifted your balance from one leg to the other, something you only did when you were nervous. You may not have been a good pair, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know you.

“Carlos has no idea that you’re here right now, does he?” Charles didn’t even have to ask. He knew the answer.

Maybe that’s why he stepped forward slowly, eyes raking over your body like they had done so many times before. Maybe because he knew Carlos didn’t know your whereabouts, Charles felt confident enough to step around you and tug at the sleeves of your jacket until it was no longer on your body. You didn’t know why you let him. You came here to yell at him some more and in a split second, in the blink of a fucking eye, the atmosphere shifted.

Charles reached for your wrist and you reacted like you did every other time someone touched you, by flinching away and putting some space between your bodies.

But that wasn’t going to work with Charles.

He paid no attention to your reserved tendencies and just grabbed your other arm instead, gripping your wrist and turning you to face him before you could react fast enough. You attempted to pull away, you even pushed on his chest, but Charles was unphased. He just waited a few seconds, letting you think you’d win this and then he grabbed your other wrist and spun you around so your back was pressed against his chest, your arms crossed over your body like an X.

Charles dipped chin so his mouth was right by your ear. His breath was hot against your skin. There was no doubt in your mind that he could feel your heart racing through the clothes on your back.

“Mon amour,” Charles spoke so softly, but you didn’t let his gentle tone fool you. Neither did you let his name for you affect you the way it used to. “Let’s stop fighting, oui?”

“Don’t call me that,” you pulled against his hold but his grip was too tight.

Charles chuckled and you felt a knot form in the pit of your stomach, “What would you rather I call you? Mi cielo?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you snapped.

“Yeah, I can’t believe he calls you that,” his lips travelled dangerously close along your skin. You could feel goosebumps rise over every inch of your skin. “You were always picky about pet names, but Carlos doesn’t know that, does he?”

“Don’t-”

You lost the last of your argument when Charles suddenly let you go, only to pin you against the nearby wall instead. His hand went to your throat, keeping you in place without applying any pressure. Before you could push him off of you, he grabbed both of your wrists and placed them above your head.

This was a position the two of you had found yourselves in more often than not.

But you were broken up now. You were with Carlos. You loved Carlos. Charles had absolutely no fucking right to be trying to pull a move like this.

And you had no right to be enjoying it.

“Answer me,” Charles’ eyes darkened. “Does Carlos know what you like? Does he know how to turn you on, mon amour?” He leaned in, his lips hovering right over yours, “Does he know you still think about me?”

“Let go of me,” your voice was barely audible, like you had to convince yourself to say the words and even then, you weren’t even sure if what you were demanding was what you really wanted.

Charles noticed how you avoided each of his questions, which in itself was a good enough answer to all of them.

When he released the hold on your neck, you expected his other hand to follow. You weren’t surprised, however, when his grip on your wrists only tightened. His fingers trailed down your side, stopping to push up the hem of your shirt. You shivered under his touch and it gave Charles a bit of an ego boost, the confidence he needed to go further.

You wanted him. Even if you said you didn’t, the way you reacted to the faintest touch told him otherwise.

He needed to hear it though. He’d tease you until the sun came up, he’d done it before. What Charles wanted was to hear you beg. He wanted you to tell him how desperate you were for him, how these last eight months without him had been unbearable.

He had no idea what your sex life with Carlos was like. He didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter. Charles knew he would always be the best fuck of your life. No one would ever take that title from him.

He undid the button of your jeans, all while keeping his eyes locked on yours. Waiting to see how you’d respond, if you’d put up more of a fight or not.

You were the one that showed up here, alone, after an argument.

You may have been broken up, but if there was one thing Charles knew, it was recognising a fucking pattern.

He then dragged your zipper down next. He traced his fingers along the seam of your underwear and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at them to see what colour they were.

Of course they were red.

“For Carlos,” you told him, reminding him that you had a boyfriend. You wore a matching lingerie set for your boyfriend. “He likes me in red.”

“Of course he does,” Charles tossed that thought aside, “It’s a shame he won’t be able to enjoy them.”

He slipped the tips of his fingers past the seam. It was embarrassing how your back arched off the wall. Charles made sure your legs were spread by keeping a knee pressed between them and he looked pleased with himself as his hand travelled further down your panties.

His hand rested just above your clit, he didn’t need to go any further to know you were soaking. Charles knew exactly what to do and say to turn you on, to leave you craving him. His nose brushed against yours and if you tilted your chin up the slightest bit, your lips would connect.

But Charles dipped his head to attach his lips to your neck instead, the spot where your throat met your jawline. You craned your head upwards, automatically giving him easier access as his teeth grazed your skin.

Charles knew your body better than you did. He knew that the second he took your earlobe between his teeth, your breaths would become staggered. He knew that the tighter he held onto your wrist, the more you gave in, you always gave in. He knew that the moment his fingers brushed over your clit, a helpless whimper would pass through your lips.

Charles knew the pattern by heart. He knew you.

So when he did all of that and Carlos’ name didn’t cross your mind, you knew you were screwed. You should have been trying harder to push Charles off of you. You shouldn’t have even showed up here in the first place.

He started massaging your clit, slowly yet confident in his actions and you were absolutely throbbing. Charles didn’t like gentle so the fact he was taking his time right now, purposely trying to work you up even more, only pissed you off further.

Charles dropped his mouth, moving to suck on another sensitive part of your neck. He debated leaving a mark, something you’d struggle to hide when you eventually, inevitably, returned to Carlos.

“Charles,” you swallowed, legs shaking as he focused all his energy on your clit. Rubbing the nub beneath the pads of his fingers.

“Oui, mon amour?” His voice was sickeningly sweet, it was an act. Nothing about this, about him, was sweet. He lifted his head, nose brushing against yours as he dropped his forehead to yours. “Tell me what you want.”

It took a second, but you managed to form a single coherent thought, forcing the name out through clenched teeth, knowing just how much it would get under Charles’ skin.

“Carlos.”

Charles had the audacity to laugh. His lips hovered over yours, barely touching, but close enough that you found yourself trying to lean forward to connect them.

“Wrong answer.”

Without warning, Charles’s hand dipped further and he plunged two fingers inside of you. He watched with a smug look on his face as your jaw fell open and a helpless inhale was all that came from you. You attempted to clench your legs together but Charles made sure that his knee kept them apart as he slowly started to slide his digits in and out.

“You always take me so well, don’t you?” His praise sent a wave of pleasure straight to your core. He kissed your jaw softly, “So tight, Y/N. Does Carlos not know how to fuck you?”

He wasn’t looking for an answer. And it wasn’t like you were in the state of mind to give him one. Charles curled his fingers inside of you and your hips bucked against his hand, desperate to get as much out of this as you possibly could.

He was relentless with his fingers and stubborn in the way he held your wrists above your head when all you wanted to do was touch him. Each time his fingers entered you it was driven by fury and lust, a dangerous combination that you knew so well.

He was purposely keeping his lips off of you now, wanting to watch you crumble from just his fingers alone. He’d tease you with his breath hitting your lips, or grazing his mouth along your jaw, but he wouldn’t give you what you desperately wanted.

This was a game to him. Bring you to the edge until you had no choice but to beg.

He added a third finger without so much of a thought, loving the way your walls clenched around him. Charles wished he didn’t have to use his fingers to fuck you, but he could be patient. He could play the long game tonight.

And then he stopped, his fingers deep inside you but refused to move them. You swallowed and attempted to rock your hips against his hand, but Charles wouldn’t budge.

“You’re too quiet,” he said, head slightly tilted. It was true, though. There were no helpless moans or whimpers coming from the back of your throat. No pleas to go faster, harder. You were biting your tongue and holding back.

It was because you didn’t want him to know how desperate you were. It was the last bit of pride you were holding onto, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“Maybe you just don’t turn me on the way you used to.”

He laughed cruelly as he started his assault on your pussy again, curling his fingers and getting just the right angle, knowing what you said was bullshit. Charles smirked, “We both know that's a lie.”

“Fuck me,” Your head fell back against the wall, your legs were shaking. Charles was the only thing keeping you standing.

“Ask nicely and maybe I will.”

“I’m not asking you for anything.”

“That’s fine, mon amour,” Charles dragged his thumb over your clit and that familiar sensation started to build in your centre. “I will happily watch you cum all over my fingers again, and again, and again, until you forget your own name.”

He rammed his fingers in you again, picking up his pace.

“Or better yet,” Charles left a delicate kiss right below your ear, applying more pressure to your clit, “Until you forget his name.”

That should not have been what did it for you, Charles dragging your relationship through the dirt, but the second those words left his mouth you were gone.

Your orgasm hit you hard and fast. What was worse was the strangled moan you failed to keep back that was music to Charles’ ears. You pulsed around him and he continued to fuck you with his fingers through it all, not letting up until you were shaking and even then he just brought them to a halt and left them inside you.

Charles released the grip he had on you and your wrists were sore and tender. You didn’t have to look at them to know how red they were, and in all honesty, the pain you’d feel tomorrow was the last thing on your mind.

You were breathless, staring up at Charles and trembling each time one of his fingers brushed against your sensitive walls. He leaned forward, once again hovering his lips over yours, both of you wondering who would make the move to close the gap once and for all.

Him fingering you was one thing. It was pure sexual tension built up over the course of god knows how long. But by kissing him, this moment would become so much more intimate. Less lust, more desire. A kiss was supposed to be shared with the person you loved, it was supposed to make you feel safe and adored.

And you didn’t love Charles.

But you kissed him anyway.

With his hand still down your pants, you took that daring step to press your lips against his. It was rough and frantic and your tongues were clashing as you held onto the side of his face, relishing in the feeling of his stubble beneath your fingers.

Charles didn’t let you enjoy this for very long. He pulled back, keeping your jaw between his forefinger and thumb as he forced your mouth open. His thumb traced along your lower lip and as he slowly slid his fingers out of you, past your aching folds, you recognised the deviant look in his eyes.

Charles brought his fingers, soaked with your juices, up to your lips. The sight of you licking yourself off of him turned him on more than anything else ever could. This was a mess he created and you were cleaning it up, without so much as a verbal instruction.

He forced his fingers into your mouth, suppressing a moan when your tongue swirled around his digits. He could see the tears well up in yours as he pushed them as far back as his knuckles would allow, getting off on the control he held over you.

That’s all it ever was. Charles needed to be in control. You wouldn’t have had a problem with that if that desire of his didn’t extend past the bedroom, but it always did.

Charles pulled his fingers out of your mouth when he noticed you struggling to breathe around them.

It was safe to say that neither of you what to do next. This wasn’t like all of the other times you fought and made up with sexual acts. You weren’t supposed to be his to fight with anymore. You shouldn’t have caved as quickly as you did.

He wasn’t holding you anymore. Nothing was keeping you from pushing him away and heading towards the door. You could storm out of here and pretend like none of this happened, like your boyfriend's teammate wasn’t just knuckles deep inside of you.

But you didn’t leave.

You stood with your back against the wall, eyes locked on Charles as the same thoughts ran through his mind. He didn’t want you to leave. The longer he kept you here, the more time you spent away from Carlos. Fuck Carlos, he thought. Fuck his teammate for stealing you from him.

Charles still wanted to hear you beg.

All it took was a microscope raise of his eyebrows and you knew you weren’t going anywhere. Charles feverishly reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it off your body, swearing under his breath when he saw the red lace bra you had on. That you wore for Carlos.

It had to go.

Before he could rip the material off of you, you grabbed his shirt and peeled it off his body. If you were shirtless, it was only fair that he was too.

And then it was a race to see who could get the others clothes off fastest. Charles’ lips attacked your neck as he pushed your jeans down as much as he could, relying on you to step out of them and kick them to the side. You unzipped his joggers and he stepped out of them, hearing him groan when you palmed his painfully hard dick through his briefs.

He cupped your panties, feeling how soaked you were through them. He had half a mind to fuck you against the wall, but he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted that easily.

Charles had to fight with himself to step away from you and when he did you were confused. You stood with your back against the wall as you watched him walk backwards towards the bed, the outline of his cock constricted against the thin material.

He sat on the edge of the bed, legs spread as they hung off the end of it. His palms rested against the blanket as he leaned backwards and nodded his head, gesturing you to follow.

And you did. Of course you did. Charles was intoxicating as much as he was toxic. You couldn’t get enough and for that reason alone, he would be the death of you.

You stood between his legs, arms draped over his shoulders as Charles took in the sight of your body, your curves that he had had memorised, the red lace that was giving him a headache.

He reached around you and unclasped your bra, throwing it to the side. Your fingers became tangled in his hair as he rolled one of your nipples between his fingers, pinching it until you moaned in pleasure, or pain, or both.

Charles kept his hand on you, continuing to fondle and show attention to one of his favourite parts of you as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the spot right between your breasts.

He was being uncharacteristically slow. Something that never lasted, but you didn’t let yourself think about it as Charles took your other nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it like he had done so many times before. When he grazed his teeth over you, your knees momentarily buckled. You could feel the wetness pool between your legs again and you needed him to do something about it.

You dropped your knee to the edge of the bed, ready to straddle him, but Charles had other plans in mind. He stared up at you, devilishly handsome, dark hair pulled in all sorts of directions, an unruly sight that was making you want to drop to your knees.

And you probably would have, had he not spun you around and pulled you to sit on his lap. Charles could feel how wet you were as you soaked through your underwear and onto his bare thigh. He used one hand to force your legs apart as the other found your neck, not yet applying any sort of restraint but it was only a matter of time.

You were so focused on what Charles had in store for you that when he gave you a second to compose yourself, you found that you were staring directly at your own reflection. There was a mirror across from the bed. Charles wanted a show.

The sight of you settled on his thigh, his hand around your throat as the light caught the bulging muscles in his arm almost made you cum again. He was watching you, eyes glued to yours in the reflection.

“You’re going to ride me, chérie, understand?” Charles raised his lips to your ear, dragging his teeth over the lobe and you shivered in response. You could see his sly smile in the mirror, “You’re going to watch yourself as you get off just from my thigh.”

All you could do was nod. You weren’t in any position to argue, nor did you want to.

So slowly, you started rocking your hips back and forth atop his leg, clenching where you could to feel any bit of friction. You found a steady pace, one that seemed to suffice as Charles watched silently, jaw locked and eyes never leaving yours.

You wished you didn’t have your underwear on still, but that was half of the tease. Charles knew how desperate you were to feel his hard thigh against your folds, bringing you to the edge, but he also knew that you wouldn’t last if that was the case. He needed you to work for it.

He grabbed your chin and roughly turned your face towards him, temporarily pulling your eyes off of the mirror.

And then he was kissing you. Hot, open-mouthed kisses, his tongue diving inside of your mouth like he owned it. His suppressed groan only encouraged you to rock your hips faster, which you did. The ache between your legs was borderline painful as you became overstimulated, desperate to find that second high so soon after your first.

Charles wasn’t going to help you at all. The most he did was trail his hand up your body, squeezing your breasts and tweaking your sensitive nipples until you cried out against his lips. Your body had been tense since you first stepped into his hotel room and now you were feeling all of your energy being sapped. And he hadn’t even fucked you.

“Please,” your helpless whisper against his lips earned you a wicked smirk in response.

“Please what?”

His dick was rock hard against you and you wanted it inside of you. It wasn’t fair that he was making you wait for it when you knew he was just as desperate to fuck you.

You hadn’t even noticed you stopped moving until Charles landed a light slap to your cheek, “I didn’t say you could stop.”

You fell into that rocking motion again. His grip on your breast was tight and it took all of you not to bury your face into his neck, knowing that you either had two choices. Look at him or look in the mirror.

You opted for the mirror, looking at how dishevelled you were. Faded mascara under your eyes. Red marks on your neck from where Charles held his grip. The girl in the mirror was desperate for a release, swaying back and forth on Charles’ thick thigh.

It was the worst possible time for Charles’ phone to start ringing.

“Leave it,” your voice almost caught in your throat, but you were in no position to be making any demands. Charles kept one hand on you as he reached backwards, grabbing the phone he had left on his pillow before you showed up.

The glint in his eye was unmistakable. His smirk, mischievous. Usually Charles didn’t have a problem letting his calls go to voicemail, but he wasn’t about to do that and you knew why when you caught a glimpse of the screen, seeing your boyfriend's name on the caller ID.

Your heart sank to your stomach, but Charles sliding his hand towards your core was a good distraction.

“Don’t,” now you were begging, but for all the wrong reasons. “Don’t answer it, please.”

“It could be important,” Charles’ tongue slid across his teeth. “I suggest you stay quiet, mon amour.”

And then he answered it, bringing the phone up to his ear, “Carlos, what’s up?”

You probably could have stayed quiet had Charles not dropped his hands past the seam of the red lace once more. He wasted no time in rubbing his fingers over your clit and you inhaled a sharp breath, watching him with worried eyes through the reflection.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” you could hear Carlos through the receiver. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your staggered breathing, “but you don’t know where Y/N is, do you?”

Charles looked so calm and collected as he answered. You wanted to slap the smug expression off of him, “No, why would I know?”

It shouldn’t have surprised you how believable he sounded. Charles knew how to lie, he did it frequently throughout your relationship. This was the first time you were part of his lie.

And then he slipped his finger inside of you again, something that he wasn’t originally going to do, but with Carlos calling, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He wanted you to squirm, to make a sound, to do anything that Carlos would hear and leave him questioning when he hung up the phone.

You brought your hand to your mouth to silence yourself and Charles’ devious smile only grew.

“She went out for a walk a while ago and she isn’t answering her phone now. I just want to make sure she's okay.”

You had completely abandoned your phone in your jacket pocket. It was sitting right by the door to the hotel room, forgotten about.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Charles plunged a second finger inside of you and started to scissor them. You bit the inside of your cheek so hard you could taste blood. Charles wasn’t going easy on you, he wanted you to be struggling right now.

You had stopped rocking, trying to gain a little bit of control as Charles kept you angled against his chest to keep his fingers in you. He wanted to feel you dripping all over his thigh. He wanted his fingers to glisten when he pulled them out.

“She could be lost-”

“Mate,” Charles cut him off harshly, simultaneously picking up the pace with his fingers. He so badly wanted to tell his teammate that you were safe, in good hands, falling apart on top of him. “Maybe it’s for the best. You’re better off without her.”

Leave it Charles to degrade you to your boyfriend while he rammed his fingers inside of you so hard you could feel it in your stomach.

Carlos, bless his soul, you didn’t deserve him, scoffed into the phone, “Just let me know if you see her, okay?”

He pressed his thumb to your clit, meeting your stare in the mirror and taking a second before answering, just to bring you a little bit closer to the edge. Your legs were shaking, you could feel yourself climbing closer and closer to your release. Charles’ fingers in you, the attention he was giving your clit, the way he stared at you like he was challenging you to say something while he was on the phone, all of it was overwhelming in the best, and worst, ways.

There was no singular thought in your mind except his fingers, and how good they felt, and how badly you wanted to cum. You clenched your walls around him and Charles momentarily forgot that Carlos was waiting for a response. The quietest groan passed his lips and he tried to cover it by clearing his throat.

“Yeah, will do,” Charles couldn’t hang up faster. He threw his phone to the side and focused all of his attention on your pussy. Dragging his fingers through your folds, rolling his thumb over your clit.

With his other hand finally free, he raised it to your neck once more. You barely had time to take a breath before you could feel the sides of your windpipe becoming constricted under the pads of his fingers. The lack of oxygen gave you a headrush. Charles was taking complete control as you continued to sit on his lap and fuck his fingers for the second time, all while watching in the mirror.

“You’re the worst,” you spoke through clenched teeth, dragging your hand up to tangle your fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

Charles was unaffected by the words he had heard so many times before, “I told you to be quiet.”

A gasp left your mouth when he tightened his grip on your neck. You still attempted to find your voice “You- fuck, you didn’t want me to be quiet,”

He chuckled, “You’re right.”

His abuse on your clit became heavier as he pulled his fingers out of you agonisingly slowly. He nudged his leg against you, instructing you to get back to riding his thigh, you weren’t supposed to have stopped.

“I can’t help it that I love the sounds you make for me,” he was practically growling. “I wanted Carlos to hear, he’s probably never heard them before.”

You stayed quiet, feeling all logic leave you as it became increasingly harder to catch your breath or keep your eyes on him.

Charles loosened his grip for a split second, just to give you a break, “Answer me when I talk to you. Carlos doesn’t know how to make you feel this good, does he?”

You shook your head, stammering out a quiet, “No.”

“Didn’t think so,” his hand tightened around your throat, constricting your airways once more.

The only sound that filled the room was your occasional whimpers between breathless moans of pleasure. Charles continued to praise you quietly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked getting off from riding his thigh. It was the praise combined with his suffocating grip that brought you to edge but it was the way he feverishly rolled his thumb over your clit that pushed you over.

You came undone on his lap, your panties absolutely soaked as your pussy convulsed while waves of pleasure coursed through you. Charles let go of your throat and you leaned your head back against his shoulder, pulling on his hair as you rode out the rest of your high.

Charles waited a few seconds before taking your chin in his hand and turning you to face him. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, it was one of those rare gentle moments you two shared between rounds.

“You think you have one more in you?” He asked, barely moving his mouth from yours. You couldn’t speak, but you could nod and you felt his lips curve into a smile, “Good girl.”

He flipped you around and got you situated at the top of the bed, your head falling back onto the pillows. Charles finally discarded the last bit of red lace you wore, they were absolutely ruined at this point, and he pulled his briefs off as well.

If you had the energy in you, you would have reached for him, attempted to give him a half-assed hand job or possibly taken him in your mouth, but all you could do was lay there and watch as he fisted his hand around his already hard cock.

Charles pushed your legs apart until you were on full display for him. You were staining the hotel sheets with how wet you were, not like either of you cared.

None of this mattered, it was all fucking stupid. The way the two of you ended up crawling back to each other after eight months of moving on was stupid. The way you found yourself desperate for him to fuck you after fingering you twice was stupid. The way Charles wanted to stare at you just a little bit longer because he knew this opportunity would never come again was stupid. All of it.

Charles shifted towards you, dropping his body on top of yours but using his arm to keep himself propped up. You could feel the tip of his dick run through your folds, teasing you, because that’s all he seemed to know how to do.

“You shouldn’t have come back here,” Charles whispered, staring down at you with a look that was filled with lust and loss, a combination you hadn’t seen before with him.

“You shouldn’t have let me in,” you retorted, not about to take the sole blame for the situation you found yourselves in.

“I’ll always let you in.”

There it was. The sprinkle of good hidden beneath the cascading tsunami of bad.

“Don’t say that,” you shook your head, swallowing when he inched his cock into you slowly, taking his goddamn time because he knew how much you hated it.

“I mean it.” Charles’ voice was hoarse as you watched his features tighten. He pressed his forehead against yours, sliding out again right before you could feel all of him. “We could have been good together, Y/N, we could have worked through our problems. Instead you ran directly to Carlos.”

You didn’t entertain that idea for a second. The two of you would have never been on the right terms. Years of couples counselling couldn’t fix what went wrong. You were each other's worst nightmare, your own individual walking red flags that should have been avoided at all costs.

But that was Charles’ favourite colour and you looked the best in it.

“Carlos loves me,” you said, which was most definitely the wrong thing to say as Charles dragged the tip of himself over your centre again.

He laughed, of course he laughed. Carlos loved you and yet here you were, about to let your ex-boyfriend, Carlos’ teammate, fuck you because you couldn’t work out your issues in a healthy way.

“And where is he now, hmm?” Charles asked, eyes darting all over your face. “More importantly, why aren’t you with him, chérie?”

You didn’t have an answer. Which was better for Charles anyway. He didn’t want to give you the chance to change your mind about what was to come next.

With no warning, and a quick snap of his hips, he rammed his dick inside of you. Despite how many times he had fucked you before, you never seemed to get used to his size. Charles stretched you out, making you gasp in relief of the feeling of finally being full. You loved his fingers, but they just didn’t compare.

“Carlos can’t fuck you like I can, that’s why,” Charles answered his own question as your nails grazed his back before clenching onto his bicep. He kept at this steady pace for less than a minute, watching as your face twisted in pleasure, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself.

Your back arched off the mattress when he pulled out suddenly. He would always fucking do this.

“Charles,” you groaned, mostly due to annoyance but your tone carried a delicate plea. That’s what he wanted after all, for you to beg for him. You swallowed your pride, you had no choice, “Please.”

“Please, what?”

You were throbbing for him and his dick teasing your entrance did nothing to help.

“For the love of God, Charles, just fuck me already.”

That was as close to a beg as he was going to get.

Charles slammed back into you, so hard and fast that a scream left your throat. God you hoped these walls were soundproof. He didn’t give you a chance to adjust as he began to thrust in and out.

Your body couldn’t take it after already coming twice. Your legs shook beneath him as you clawed his back, digging your nails so deep into his skin you wouldn’t be surprised if you drew blood.

Charles knew your body, he knew what angles to go from to hit all the right spots. Searing pleasure mixed with the pain from overstimulation had you helpless, but this was what you wanted.

You looked up at him, recognising the familiar animalistic stare in his eyes. Charles reached above you to grip onto the headboard, his pace never faltering. You don’t know what came over you as you brought your hand to his cheek, but you watched as his gaze softened for that brief second.

Charles liked it rough, but you still craved that bit of tenderness to balance it out. Even as you took your anger out on each other, you wanted to feel his lips on yours. You wanted to swallow his breaths and pretend that for a minute, everything was fine.

You pulled his face towards yours and kissed him before you could think twice about it. His tongue fought yours and you felt his thrusts becoming unsteady. A sound emerged from the back of his throat as you kissed him like there was no tomorrow and you swore you could have came for a third time right then.

Charles dropped his face to your neck when he felt himself starting to experience something other than lust and jealousy. He didn’t want to be craving you again, he didn’t want to fall back into this cycle.

“I fucking hate what you do to me, you know that right?”

“I know,” you dragged your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, body quivering when he kissed the spot below your ear. “And you know I hate you, right?”

“Oh I know,” He accentuated his words with a particularly hard thrust that had you reeling and it was only a few seconds later when you were seeing stars for the third time that night.

Your orgasm was earth-shattering. Almost like the entire world around you paused while waves of euphoria crashed through your entire body. Charles continued to fuck you through your high as you screamed his name, holding his body tight against yours.

Your pussy clenched around him as you shook with pleasure. Everything about you felt numb as Charles continued his violent thrusts, the headboard banging against the wall. He didn’t plan on slowing down, desperate to fuck the literal living daylight out of you for one last time, before you had to return to Carlos.

His dick twitched inside of you, followed by a string of French and English expletives under his breath against your skin. And then he was cumming too, releasing everything he had inside of you.

His body shook before he collapsed on top of your already exhausted body. Your heavy breaths were synchronised as you loosened your grip on his hair, switching to gently twisting your fingers through the dark strands instead.

Charles hummed into the crook of your neck and you braced yourself as he pulled out, wincing at how empty, and sore, you suddenly felt. You half expected Charles to stand up and go to the bathroom to give you the opportunity to leave without saying anything. You wouldn’t have even been surprised if he was blunt and told you to go back to Carlos.

But he rested his head on the pillow next to yours after pulling the covers over your bodies. He then turned your face gently so he could admire you and your post orgasmic glow. All lust behind his eyes had faded, replaced by something else now. Something you were never able to put a name to, something you once convinced yourself was love.

It was longing. A yearning desire for what used to be, what could have been. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

You knew the right move would be to get up and leave. You fucked your anger out. Carlos was worried sick about you. You needed to leave.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Not as you watched Charles’ eyelashes flutter softly until they closed, his hand still resting on the side of your face. You turned slightly to kiss the inside of his palm, and climbing out of bed did cross your mind.

You probably would have, had Charles, in his half-asleep state, not muttered, “Stay.”

It wasn’t long until you fell asleep as well, the two of you facing each other throughout the duration of the night. At one point, his hand found your waist and that’s where it stayed. Charles lovingly touched you more in his sleep than he ever did while awake.

You could have stayed in that bed for hours with him, but you had a rude awakening when you heard your phone ringing from the bedside table. Charles groaned, having woken up too, but he just waved the call off, letting you deal with it.

Your eyes were still shut when your hand fumbled around the surface next to you until you found what you were looking for. You barely registered what you were doing or what time it was as you slid your finger across the screen to answer the call.

You cleared your throat, “Hello?”

“Y/N?”

Carlos saying your name in response jolted you awake. Your eyes widened when his accent flowed through the phone, the concern evident in the way he said your name.

“Carlos,” you sucked in a breath. “I-, I’m sorry, I was out-” you didn’t even know what time it was. You were struggling to come up with an excuse as to why you didn’t go back to the hotel room, something that he would believe, but nothing came to mind. “I didn’t- I mean-”

None of what you were saying made any sense, but as it would turn out, you didn’t need an excuse. There was a more pressing issue at hand.

His heavy breath had your heart sinking to the pit of your stomach and you couldn't have prepared yourself for the next words to come out of his mouth.

“Why are you answering Charles’ phone?”

this is so long im so sorry, if you made it this far..see u in hell

masterlist here

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 one shot #formula 1 x you #holllandtrash #nsfr #im so sorry #f1 requests #f1 #cl16 #cl16 x reader

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daytaker · 2 months

Text

The Gang's Tumblr Pages

Inspired by this and my own reaction to it.

Lucifer

Perfectly curated, perfectly formatted, and whenever there's a major change to the tumblr format, he simply leaves the website altogether in a huff of peacock feathers.

Lots of HD photography of nature getting reblogged.

Has an extremely complicated and specific list of tags he uses for every single post.

He only reblogs text posts that are sufficiently visually appealing. Very few meet his high standards.

You could look through his entire blog and not learn one single thing about him except that he's a perfectionist to the point of neurosis.

He has a lot of professional art blogs following him.

Mammon

Oversharing oversharing oversharing!!!!

He regularly gets himself in trouble by shouting about the shit he's done into the void of the internet.

Tried to have a tagging system but forgets about 7/10 times.

Reblogs himself all the time to say "AND ANOTHER THING!!!"

He hates looking at the actual blog pages. The text is always so tiny and some of them start playing music and changing his mouse into a weird shape? No thank you.

He has very few followers and he doesn't really care. Who goes on tumblr for the social element? Weirdos, that's who.

He's insanely easy to troll with anonymous asks. Everyone has done it. Even Lucifer, though he wouldn't admit it.

Some of his best asks:

"did u just post that you're okay with the idea of ponies and unicorns breeding. like no shade on that conceptually but why."

"If you reblog another 'reblog this for good luck' post, I will personally break down your door and steal your skin."

"ur ugly" "yeah-huh" "ugly" "no i won't 'come off anon and fight u' whhy don't you come ON anon and fight me?" "'i don't know how' sounds like something a chicken would say"

Leviathan

He just makes a blog like one of us. Fandom stuff.

Except he's multifandom to the extreme. It's impossible to keep track of his interests because he always has so many simultaneously.

He has the most followers of the brothers just because he gets so deep into so many fandoms that they come rolling in.

He has blocked all of his brothers except for the twins. They're okay.

His blog is a chaotic mess but there is order within the madness. He has a masterpost of tags that explains everything if you care to look at it. (I don't recommend it.)

Satan

It feels stupid to even put this in writing but...cat pics. Endless cat pics. That's like 90% of his blog.

The other 10% is a mixture of book recommendations and analysis, Lucifer shade, and a comprehensive, ever-expanding list of shit Lucifer has done to make Satan angry. It's a very long list. It's organized by theme.

"Lucifer inflicts unjust punishments." "Lucifer makes unnecessary snide remarks." "Lucifer simping for Diavolo and MC (pathetic)."

His blog itself is very minimalist and clean.

He's another fastidious tagger. He tags the cat pics by color, breed, age, number of cats, setting...

Asmodeus

He's not very into tumblr. It's like Devilgram but more complicated and less popular.

Sometimes he'll post or reblog 'aesthetic' things. Moodboards and the like.

In general though, he doesn't really 'get' tumblr.

People don't post selfies very often. Weird.

Beelzebub

Food blog.

Just food.

Reblogging hot dogs.

Reblogging nachos.

Reblogging ice cream.

Nothing else. Ever.

Belphegor

"This minimalist Tumblr has no posts."

No posts.

Default profile picture.

Sometimes he'll like something.

Usually he just looks at it.

Diavolo

There is no order. Only chaos.

He hardly ever uses it, then he'll come online and reblog a million things that have nothing to do with each other. Then he'll go silent again.

He has no tagging system.

He has no custom theme.

He is very friendly to all anonymous askers though.

Barbatos

Barbatos would never have a tumblr. Don't be ridiculous.

Solomon

He only posts very rarely. He prefers to lurk.

When he does post, it's something weird as fuck, like reblogging statistics about owl pellet contents.

He likes to keep people on their toes.

Simeon

Reblogging inspirational quotes, pictures of nature, and general positivity.

That is, once he figures out how the website works.

That takes a really long time.

What is a queue? What are tags? Why is it called a "reblog"? How does he track activity? How does he navigate the homepage? Why does it post things in such a strange order? What is a "Blaze"? What is a draft? Custom URL? Custom Theme? Sideblogs? Mass Post Editor?

Someone please help him.

Solomon probably does that.

Luke

Baking.

He uses tumblr for recipes and images of baked goods.

But tumblr isn't even the best place to go for that, so he isn't on very often.

He sometimes likes Simeon's posts, just as a show of support since he knows how hard Simeon works to post anything anywhere.

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ghostandsoap · 1 year

Text

Beyond the Mask

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! “Gecko” Reader

Tags: Minor injuries. Brief references of child abuse. Maskless Ghost.

Word Count: 5.5k

“You’re special to me.”

It wasn’t the first time that you had asked.

Every once in a while, you would make the same request to Ghost. It was a request that he always took with ease and understanding of your curiosity. It was a seemingly simple ask, but mutually understood that it was much more important than it seemed.

“Can you please take off the mask?”

But it was a request that he politely declined every time.

“No, love.”

You weren’t the only one who had poked at Ghost to show his face (and been turned down). Just about everyone that Ghost interacted with on a regular basis had asked at one point or another. Soap was the most persistent of the bunch, and he seemed to try harder each time.

So, it wasn’t lost on Ghost that it was a lingering mystery just asking to be solved. He was aware of the fact that it was maddening, which is why he was so patient whenever people asked.

Ghost would admit that as time went on, he felt more and more guilty for turning down something that you wanted. If you wanted something, Ghost would do everything in his power to get it or do it for you. You were deserving of that, and he never wanted you to forget it. But taking off the mask was one thing that he just couldn’t bring himself to do.

He knew that it couldn’t last forever. If he wanted to go steady with you and move into the long term future (which he most certainly did want to do), then the mask was going to have to come off at some point. He wouldn’t want you to commit to something like that without even knowing what he looked like. It was inevitably going to come up time and time again, and eventually he would have to give in.

“Easy, Gecko. Take a load off.” Ghost said, ushering you into the lone bedroom of the safe house.

The stifled groans and muffled whimpers were a sure sign of the discomfort you were in. Each little noise stung Ghost’s heart more and more each time.

“I look and feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” You coughed, hobbling into the room quite pathetically.

“That’s because you were hit by a truck.” Ghost said, dropping all of your gear in the corner of the room that he had carried in for you.

“Good point.” You laughed, carefully lowering yourself onto the edge of the bed.

You found humor in the situation, but Ghost hardly found it amusing at all.

It felt like more of a…firm bump rather than an actual hard, physical collision. The truck hadn’t been going nearly as fast as it could’ve been, and the front bumper had really only grazed one side of your body. Still, getting hit by a moving vehicle was bound to cause some damage, and the ever growing bruise on your side was proving that to you.

Despite the aching soreness and the discomfort, you had been checked and cleared thoroughly of any broken bones or other injuries. You were expected to be moving slow for the next few days, but it was a small price to pay considering that it could’ve been much worse.

Ghost was livid when it happened.

It was a rookie mistake – quite literally because it was a rookie who had made the mistake of almost running you over. Ghost had no idea who had the bright idea of letting a newbie tag along for this mission. This mission was predicted to take a couple weeks, and he couldn’t fathom how it was a good idea to let fresh blood in on such an important job.

It had completely been an accident. The team was waiting around for a bit before making the next move of the day when it happened. He had been extremely apologetic (once he actually had the chance to apologize) and nearly came to tears over it.

Nonetheless, you literally almost became roadkill because the amateur soldier wasn’t paying attention.

Ghost nearly lost his mind. You had barely enough time to even comprehend what had even happened before the soldier in question had been yanked from the driver’s seat and dragged by his collar for the chewing out of a lifetime. Soap had rushed over to help you to your feet, letting Ghost do all the scolding.

You weren’t sure what choice words Ghost had used with the rookie, but you could only imagine that he was close to seeing the light of the beyond by the time Ghost had said his piece.

You managed to make it through the rest of the day without any major issues, although you were much slower and it took the remainder of the day to completely regain your composure.

Ghost didn’t leave your side after that. He was half convinced that you were going to keel over and die instantly from some unforeseen complication. The rookie definitely kept his distance in the event that Ghost changed his mind about not killing him.

Ghost felt a little bit better when you finally were able to call it a day. He felt relief knowing that you had the opportunity to get some rest and give your recently rattled body a break.

“I should’ve choked him out.” Ghost growled, standing over you like the giant that he was.

He knelt on the floor to untie each of your boots, sliding them off of your fatigued feet. He stood back up, one of his massive hands came to the zipper on your jacket, sliding it down the length of your torso until it separated the outer layer completely.

“Ghost, he didn’t mean to do it,” You said, but smirked when you realized what he was doing. “I can undress myself, you know.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. He manually moved each of your arms one at a time to slip the jacket off of your frame.

“I know, but I don’t want you moving around too much. I also want to get a look at your side where you were hit.” He explained, motioning for you to carefully raise your arms above your head.

“Why?” You asked, wincing at the sting in your side when you raised your arms.

“Because you’ll lie and say that it’s ‘not that bad’.” He tossed your shirt aside once it was off, revealing your chest and torso.

He took a glance at your affected side that had already served as a canvas for a painting of nasty red, black, and purple. All the way from underneath your armpit down to the top of your hip was visibly roughed up.

“Just don’t want you to worry.” You squeaked when Ghost ran his hand along the area to check for any broken ribs once more.

“I know, baby.” He sighed, giving you the green-light once again for no major issues.

His nerves were settled once again, and he was suddenly aware of how peaceful the room was, and that he had a moment alone with you. The bedroom was cozy and didn’t have much to it. It was tucked away in the back of the safe house, away from the main living space where everyone else was camping out. The moon was shining through the window, casting beams of gentle light all through the room – just enough to be able to see you clearly. His hand cupped the side of your face, your head instinctively cradling into his palm as you made eye contact with him.

“You’re still my pretty girl.” His thumb dragged across your cheek.

“Even when I’m all beat up?” You giggled.

“Absolutely,” He remarked. “You’re still feeling okay, yeah?”

“Yeah, honey. Just tired.”

“Poor baby.” He purred, taking a seat next to you on the bed.

He raised the bottom of his balaclava just enough to where he could kiss you. His skull mask had been stashed away a while ago when he was tired of wearing it. His kisses were so much slower and tender when he was feeling worried about you…which was most of the time. When it came to you, Ghost tended to sweat the small stuff.

His grin matched yours when he felt it on the kiss. He had to admit, it was so easy to make you smile. He shifted on the mattress to get situated, leaning his tall frame against the back wall at the head of the bed.

“Easy, baby. Careful.” He jumped in surprise when you pounced on him, straddling him with a blinding grin on your face.

You hardly even noticed the pain in your side at all now. This was way more important to you.

“Kiss me again.” You whispered playfully, and he laughed.

“I’m trying, but I can’t have you roughing yourself up for a couple of kisses.” He said, his hands running over your breasts through the material of your bra that was still on.

“A couple of your kisses. Not just any.” You corrected.

“Mm. I might give some other places some attention.” He teased.

“Is that a promise?” You gasped.

“Only if you’re good.” He kissed you again, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted on top of his lap.

He loved moments like this. When you were on a mission (particularly the long ones), it could be a challenge to get to be with you alone. When you had a team around all the time (and Soap’s constant need to know what you and Ghost were up to), finding privacy could be nearly impossible.

A bedroom with a door that actually locked was like a lottery win for Ghost.

He was loving every second of this. It made him think about the next time that the two of you were going to be on leave and you could stay tangled up in his bed for as long as you wanted, wearing nothing but clean bed sheets and each other’s presence.

He kept a firm, yet cautious grip on your hips to keep you from going anywhere. Ghost loved it when you were this close to him because he could savor every part of you. He never took you for granted, but he surely cared enough to use these moments wisely.

But it didn’t take long for a recurring problem to come to the surface – making out with Simon could be difficult. There was a major barrier that always, without fail, got in the way.

You huffed when his balaclava slipped back down his face, denying you access from his lips. It was annoying to have to hold the fabric up with one hand and try to roam his chest with the other. This was usually the process: kiss, move the mask, kiss again, repeat.

Ghost often found it funny how irritated you would get with it, but tonight it felt more like a nuisance to him rather than you. Eventually you stopped, pulling away and letting the balaclava fall back down. Ghost looked at you, his eyes shining with knowingness of what was coming next.

“Can you please take the mask off?”

The famous question. Ghost’s most popular request.

“No, love.”

Usually, you left it at that. If Ghost flat out said no, then you normally wouldn’t push it. Tonight was different though. There was a stronger determination than normal. The circumstances couldn’t have been more perfect. No one else was around to see, and Ghost knew that you would take the mystery of Ghost’s face to your grave.

“Please?” You tried again.

He chuckled, although it was more of a nervous laugh.

“I’m nothing special, doll. I’m just like everybody else.” He shrugged.

“You’re special to me.” You corrected him.

He released a heavy exhale that he didn’t even realize he was holding in. Ghost knew that your intentions weren’t anything malicious, and that they were based solely on pure curiosity. He didn’t blame you in the slightest. If he were in your shoes, he knew he would be the exact same way. The two of you spent so much time together, and the two of you shared many precious moments together. If he never got to see your face, then he would be itching to know what was underneath too.

Ghost was thankful that you hadn’t ever pushed him to show you his face. Upon meeting him, you knew the importance of the mask and the purpose that it served.

“You have seen my face before,” He grumbled. “If you so recall, you walked in on me.”

“That was an accident!” You wailed. “And it was literally for half a second because I turned away so fast. I don’t even remember what you look like.”

“Gecko…” He sighed, a hint of desperation in his tone. “You know I don’t show my face.”

“Ghosty.” You whined, using his nickname that always made his knees go weak.

“You’re really not missing anything.” He bantered, trying to hold his composure.

“Actually…” You hesitated for a moment, because you debated continuing. “I feel like I’m missing a lot.”

Making him feel guilty was never your intention. There was no excuse or good reason to make him feel bad about something that you knew was important to him. But that didn’t stop his stomach from rolling over inside of him the way that it did whenever he felt like he had done something to make you unhappy.

And he knew that you weren’t upset in the slightest, but he still couldn’t help but feel so, so terrible.

“I want to hold your face…I want to kiss you without the mask,” You went on, hoping that he would understand that you weren’t attacking him. “I want to see you.”

That tone in your voice. The whisper of someone that he adored so much was like hearing the song of the soul. He wouldn’t say no to that. How could he say no to that?

“Okay.” He gave a slow nod.

You withheld from making a shocked expression, but that didn’t stop your heart from hitting your shoes and recoiling into your throat.

“Okay…” You echoed, unsure of what he meant exactly.

“The mask can come off.”

Instant fireworks exploded in your nervous system. It was a premature celebration, but it was definitely a step in the right direction.

You had to admit – you were nervous. Certainly not as nervous as he was. You knew how important this was to him, and how strict he was about never, ever revealing his face to anybody. It was an urban legend in a way. The mysterious wonder of what the esteemed lieutenant looked like beneath the skull and the stone cold demeanor.

It was important for you to be conscious of the fact that your reaction was going to be critical. He was perfect to you already, and whatever he looked like certainly wouldn’t change that. But you knew how sensitive he was about this. Any kind of accidental twitch, blink, or show of a potentially sour expression would freak him out big time. You knew you needed to be as neutral as possible and be sure to be even more encouraging.

“Would you be more comfortable if I turn around while you take it off? Or do you want me to do it?” You asked, being absolutely sure that this went the way that he was most comfortable with.

He paused for a moment, his voice sounding even deeper than usual when he answered.

“You can do it.”

Chills rushed down your spine, translating into a physical shudder. This felt like you were about to discover the solution to world hunger. It felt surreal, as if this were breaking some foundational law of the universe.

Every motion felt overly voluntary. You tried your best to hide the slight tremble in your hands when you brought your hands to the area just below his chin. Your fingertips were nimble and careful when you slipped them underneath the fabric. Both sides of his lower jaw touched the pads of your fingers – it was a foreign feeling altogether.

This was the moment of truth. Should you whip it off quickly? Should you ease it off of him to give him some extra time to prepare? You didn’t want to ruin this for him because then he’d never show his face ever again. His hands didn’t dare move from your waist,

Slowly and carefully, you removed the mask from his face. Bit by bit was revealed to you – his lips, his nose, his cheeks. Each new feature that was shown was the next piece of putting the puzzle together. The rate of your heart grew quicker and quicker with each passing millisecond.

This wouldn’t change the way you felt about him. You had fallen for Ghost because of who he was, not what he looked like. In all honesty, you wanted Ghost to do this for himself rather than for you. You understood that Ghost didn’t quite see it this way, but this was your way of letting him know that he was safe with you. He didn’t need the mask to protect him from you.

When you made it to the space just below his eyes, you decided to do it like a band-aid. Get it off quick and lose the anticipation of it all. In a flash of a second, the mask was off and there was no turning back.

And there he was.

If it hadn’t been for your ribcage holding it in, you were sure that your heart would’ve exploded right out of your body.

He was looking at you with a fixed stare, terrified to look away or say a single word. He was reading and interpreting every minor, barely noticeable movement in your expression. His skin was glowing in the soft light casted from the moon outside. There was an anxious shine in his eyes, his dark irises were saying everything that his mouth couldn’t articulate. He was scared to death.

His balaclava was clutched in your hands as if it would disintegrate if you let go. His lifeline was in your hold, at your complete mercy. There wasn’t a thing that he could do. He couldn’t take this moment back even if he wanted to.

He needed you to say something. He couldn’t stand the feeling of all the focus being on him, and he couldn’t tell if he was correctly guessing at what you were thinking.

You were at a loss for words. This felt like a complete shift in the universe, like everything was different when it really wasn’t different at all. You were stuck trying to comprehend the fact that you were really looking at him – the real him.

And he was beautiful.

You weren’t surprised in the slightest. Even if you had no real way to know what he looked like, you knew from the moment you met him that he was good looking. Ghost himself had even made comments here and there that he considered himself to be rather attractive.

You didn’t understand it. How could someone so brave, strong, and (again) handsome want to shield himself away from the world? If there was anyone that could take on life with stride, it was Ghost. But there was a simple answer to that. It seemed to be the reason for all of the “odd” things and traits about him.

He wasn’t always like that.

He had to protect himself. There had never been anyone in his life at any point to do it for him. He never had the chance to be a kid. He had to grow up before he even had the chance to be excited about growing up.

His upbringing had everything to do with the mask and the reason that he wore it. It was his version of a security blanket. It was his protection from the evil of the outside world. Because he had learned at a young age that sometimes the worst evil that the world had to offer came from the ones right in front of you, and the ones that were supposed to love you the most.

“Simon…”

His name – his real name fell from your lips as a tender whisper. The words were laced with appreciation of his trust and absolute adoration for the revealed man standing in front of you. Of course you had said his name before. He had heard you say it plenty of times.

But he’d never heard you say it in this context, and he surely had never heard you say it when you were looking at the real him.

There was a moment of panic and discomfort for him. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was completely exposed. His most prized security measure had been stripped away – now useless due to its absence from his face. The air of the room felt cold on his skin, another reminder that he had given up his primary line of defense.

There were a million things that were running through his mind, but every single word was caught in his throat and released out into the air with each of his shaky exhales. There wasn’t a single thing that he knew to say. All he could do was watch you stare at him, raking over him and studying every aspect of his face.

“You’re so handsome, my love.” You spoke again, and the blood in his lower extremities ran boiling hot.

His heartbeat stalled for a beat or so when your hand came to his hair. The balaclava had rustled his hair when it brushed against it, but he hadn’t even noticed. Your fingers ran through his dark hair that was (admittedly) not as clean as it could’ve been. His hands were trembling against your hips, his fingertips drumming lightly against the waistband of your pants.

You seemed content to him, which eased his anxious nausea a little bit. The gentle, yet genuine smile on your face brought some comfort. Every sense of the feeling of you touching him felt heightened to the highest degree. He was aware of every strand of hair that ran through your fingers, every feather-like drag across his cheekbone with your knuckle.

It felt different for sure. He wasn’t used to someone touching that zone of his body. He definitely wasn’t accustomed to sharing it with someone, but he was thankful that you were being so considerate to how he was feeling.

“I…I don’t know what to say.” He finally spoke, his words coming out in a quavery way.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” You replied with a voice like silk, pressing a kiss to his forehead that sent a wave of electricity through his core. “I’m just looking at you.”

He almost laughed. That’s what made him so nervous.

This was definitely not something that he had counted on happening today. He always knew the moment would come, but he hadn’t expected it to happen quite like this. It was a weird feeling that he was having. Even though he was seeing you as the same as he always did, it still felt different. It felt more intimate, more authentic. The mask was resting in your lap, a place that he never expected his mask to end up.

“Pretty boy…” You drawled, cupping his face the same way that he had held yours just a few moments before.

His cheeks burned at that comment. A flush of hot crimson red infiltrated his face to the point where he was sure that you could feel it on your hand. He was exploding on the inside with a million emotions that he couldn’t pinpoint to save his life.

He was so beyond grateful for you. This was something that he had feared and dreaded for a long time, terrified that you would see him as something other than the image that he had worked so hard to create and maintain for himself. But he was beginning to realize the reality of the situation.

The truth was, you had always been able to see who he really was. That was something that was special about you. The mask only hid him from you in a physical way. There was never a time where you hadn’t seen the person inside of him, and never once had you held an ounce of resentment for who he really was.

He had always been Simon Riley to you.

So in reality, this wasn’t the first time that you were seeing him. This was just the first time that you were seeing the face that went with it.

“You think so?” He asked, his hands beginning to move from their cemented positions.

“Absolutely I do,” You answered, kissing the tip of his nose. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re just buttering me up.” Simon cracked a smile, and your eyes brightened immediately.

“Oh! Look at that smile,” The intensity of your grin matched his. “Happiness looks beautiful on you.”

The words rang in his head and echoed out through his ears. Happiness felt even better than it looked. His most consistent and worthwhile source of that happiness was right in front of him, loving on him as if she thought he was the most perfect person in the world.

He couldn’t fathom how anyone could feel that way about him. He tried his best not to question it, and instead tried to appreciate it and reflect it back to you. He was grateful for you, and he did everything he could to remind you of that.

“I’m glad you think I’m ‘pretty’ and all,” He tucked his fingertips into the front of your waistband. “But I’ll never be as pretty as you.”

“Now you’re buttering me up,” You giggled.

You kissed him then. The first real kiss with nothing in the way. Oh, it was a wonderful kiss – and Simon made a mental note that, yeah, kissing without the mask was so, so much better. He wrapped his arms completely around you, smothering your frame against his. His nose brushed against yours with every head movement, and every little happy whimper from you swelled his heart more and more.

Simon pushed you onto your back, keeping you pinned between the mattress and his body. He kissed all over your neck and face to the point where you were breathless from all the giggles and squeaks that he was bringing out of you. When you were close to getting lightheaded, he pulled his head back to give you a break.

He couldn’t get over how you were looking at him. That look of adoration and care was healing his soul in ways he never thought he’d be able to achieve. There were certain things in life that Simon had accepted long ago that he would never get to experience…being cared for in the way that you cared for him was one of them. This was a dream come true and something he never would’ve counted on in a million years.

“I know that wasn’t easy for you. I’m proud of you,” You brushed a stray hair from his forehead. “Thank you for sharing this moment with me.”

He felt a twinge of guilt. He really hadn’t done anything at all. You shouldn’t have to thank him for showing his face. The absolute bare minimum of existing as a human. But he knew that you understood why this was important, and that this really was something huge.

“I wouldn’t want to share it with anybody else.” He admitted.

He was so crazy about you. He wasn’t sure what he had done in his life to deserve you, but he would do it a million times over if it meant spending forever with you. If there was anyone in the world that he trusted enough to share this much of himself with, it was you.

“I think you need to get some sleep,” He remarked. “Need to rest that side.”

“I could stay right here all night.” You returned.

“I know,” He sat up, pulling you up with him. “But you need some sleep.”

Despite your protests, he arranged the bed to be most comfortable for you, encouraging you to properly get settled to get some shut eye. He grabbed his removed balaclava from the bed, keeping it ready to go when he returned to the front of the house where the rest of the team was.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed once you were all snuggled in.

“Yeah,” You yawned. “I’m good.”

“Alright, love. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed your forehead, standing to leave you be.

Just as he raised his hand to put the balaclava back on, he felt a force stop him in his tracks.

“No. Wait,” You grabbed his free hand, stopping him from walking away. “Please stay.”

The balaclava in his hand suddenly felt heavy, like an intuitive feeling telling him it wasn’t time to hide away again.

“Might I remind you that I’m nearly a giant,” He chuckled, referring to the bed that was just barely big enough. “You need rest, darling.”

“Please?”

That face. Those puppy eyes that he could never resist. In your defense, you did genuinely tend to sleep better when he was around — you felt more protected that way, and that was something he would never say no to.

So he obliged, setting the balaclava on the bedside table next to you, removing his boots and just his outer layers to make it at least semi-possible to fall asleep. He never really slept on missions (or at all), but if there was even the slightest chance that he could catch a few winks, then he would surely take it.

He was careful with his movements as he lowered into bed, being sure not to come down too hard with his giant frame and break something. The bed wasn’t the newest or the sturdiest in the world, and he already had reservations about how it would hold him. He chuckled when you snuggled up to him immediately, barely even giving him time to convince himself that the bed wouldn’t collapse underneath him.

As he had predicted, it was a bit of a squeeze, but that only gave you more reason to be all over him. He hadn’t realized how rundown he was until he was sunken into the mattress, his muscles and bones screaming with celebration when they were finally at rest. He was relaxed, he had you next to him, you were safe — he was all set. There were a few passing minutes of silence, but neither of you were trying to fall asleep just yet. You were still looking at him, admiring his features and paying attention to every little detail.

He was admiring you for admiring him, and even though he already knew every inch of you to perfection, he still loved to look at you.

“If you want to put it back on…” You reached for the balaclava that he had placed on the end table next to you. “I understand if you do.”

He stared at the black and stained white fabric covering. It was the idol of his personality, the foundation of what everyone knew about himself. It was a shield that he kept at all times, his highest form of protection and self-preservation.

But tonight? He could do without it.

“I don’t need it.” He answered.

A pause. Then a beat of disbelief. You weren’t sure if he meant it or if he was trying to satisfy what he thought that you wanted him to do. You never wanted him to do something he didn’t want to do on your behalf.

“Are you sure?” You clarified.

“I’m sure.” He gave a soft grin.

“Positive?” You made sure.

“Positive.”

He pulled you back into his chest once you had set the mask aside. He kissed the crown of your head, dragging his fingertips along the skin of your back. He listened to your breathing, paying attention to how it slowed to a consistent rhythm as you fell deeper and deeper into a slumber. He was still processing everything. He had taken his mask off with no preparation or planning. He couldn’t believe what was happening to him. He was beginning to turn into the man he never thought he’d be able to become.

For the longest time he had feared that he was too scarred and too frozen over to ever be anything other than a hardened man with nothing but distaste for the world. But he never knew there was a flame hot enough and bright enough to melt that frozen heart of his.

He was thankful for you.

You were the perfect combination of everything he ever needed and wanted. He was thankful for your kindness, patience, and support. He was thankful that you were strong enough to believe in him, yet soft enough to be sweet on him. He was thankful that you cared for him and showed him more love than anyone else had ever shown him before.

And he was always thankful that you had always been able to see beyond the mask.

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shoutaaizawas · 3 months

Note

“Don’t look at them, look at me.” With Aizawa? 🫶

↳ aizawa shouta x reader → ❝look at me❞

summary: in pursuit of a villain with the hero you have a crush on, you get hurt. word count: 1.7k+ tags/warnings: january hurt/comfort event, descriptions of head injury/disorientation a/n: first fic of the event! thank you so much for submitting this prompt, I hope you enjoy!

masterlist

Being a pro hero was a risky job. That was something you all knew. Sometimes it was easy to forget. You were a very skilled hero and it wasn’t too often you faced danger that made you nervous.

A villain was on the run, you were in pursuit. And it so happened that Eraserhead, Aizawa Shouta, one of your colleagues and a man you had crushed on for a while now.

He was quiet, most people saw him as stoic or indifferent but you had seen a side of him that not everyone saw. He was caring, deeply so. You had seen how he was with the students he taught, with the young girl he had adopted. There was a warmth that you saw in him that captivated you. He was a hero who cared about people, not the fame of the job.

You liked working with him, you felt like a schoolgirl, excited to see him whenever you had the chance. You lingered in conversation with him. Tried to catch his attention.

This villain had stolen an important prototype from a hero works lab. A dangerous tool that could not be in the wrong hands. A dangerous tool that unfortunately had two parts to it, a glove for each hand.

Aizawa and you were on the scene first. Now the two of you were pursuing the villain across rooftops.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” You teased as you both jumped a gap between buildings.

“Can we just focus on catching this guy before he gets away?” He said, not in a mean tone but rather his usual serious one.

“If you insist.” You replied your tone staying light. You knew Aizawa was always focused on the mission at hand so you didn’t take it personally.

The villain was fast, but the two of you stayed on his tail. Once you got close enough Aizawa was able to use his capture weapon to snatch one of the gloves out of his hand. The villain could tell he was in danger of getting caught so he used his quirk to descend from the top of the building down to the streets below.

For a moment you hesitated trying to think of the fastest way down but before you came up with an idea Aizawa grabbed you, arm around your waist. “Hold on,” He said as he used his capture weapon to rappel off the side of the building. Your stomach dropped for a moment but you had no time to slow down, you had to catch this guy before he was lost in the crowd.

The street he decided to land on was a busy area with hundreds of people on the street as they made their way about their day.

“This is bad, he could hurt a civilian or we could lose him.” You said.

Aizawa grunted in reply.

“Let’s split up, you stay on him and I’ll try to cut him off.” You offered. Aizawa looked at you thinking it over as you remained in pursuit.

“Good idea.” He said.

You smiled before splitting away, you prayed that your guess was right. This street was starting to get empty but if you turned right onto the next street it was more crowded. If he wanted to keep the crowd as cover that’s where he would be.

Taking a short cut you were able to get in front of him. He was too focused on Aizawa behind him he didn’t realize that you were right in front of him until he was almost running into you.

What you didn’t expect was for him to use the weapon he had stolen. There had been a question of what it was capable of in your head before but now you knew.

For a moment everything went black, when your vision returned you were on the ground, back against the side of a building. Everything was spinning, blurry. Shapes and colors moved around your vision.

“Can you hear me?” A voice broke through the ringing in your ears as a dark blob covered your vision. “I’m right here, don’t move.”

Slowly your vision started to clear, you could see now that it was Aizawa in front of you. His hand was on the side of your head, his other hand on your shoulder. It was grounding, even though your head was still spinning.

What also caught your attention was the giant crowd surrounding you in a circle watching on, some with phones out. Oh no. This was so embarrassing. You were too slow to react and you got embarrassed in front of everyone. And now you were in a disorienting state you had never felt before and everyone was watching. Your eyes flicked around panicked at the crowd.

“Don’t look at them, look at me,” Aizawa said, his hand on your cheek now pulling your gaze to his like you had no other option. Did you want another option when he was in front of you?

“Breath, take deep breaths.” He said and you realized how shallow they had been on the verge of hyperventilating. “Good, that’s good.” His words made your heart flip and you knew it wasn’t from the villain's weapon.

“T-The- villain- the weapon-” It was hard to speak.

“I don’t care.” He said. “Just breathe.”

You focused on breathing while he reassured you that everything would be okay. His hand brushed against the side of your face comfortingly. You reached out grasping onto his shirt, trying to ground yourself from the spinning.

“Can I pick you up?” He asked.

You felt nauseous and disoriented still but you wanted to be away from the crowds. “Please.” You said.

Aizawa was quick to pick you up, but he was still careful. Motion made things worse so you closed your eyes and put your face into his chest.

Before you knew it he was placing you down on a soft surface. Opening your eyes you realized you were in an apartment.

“Do you need water?” He asked. Did he take you to his apartment?

You nodded. “Please.”

Aizawa brought you a glass of water helping you take a few sips. “I brought you to my place since it was close.” He said. “I called a doctor here, they’ll be here in a moment.”

His apartment was nice, it was cool and dark and it was perfect for your condition right now. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Everything is spinning,” You said. “My head is throbbing. But my ears stopped ringing.”

“Does closing your eyes help?” He asked.

“Only when you were carrying me.” You answered.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

“Why?” You asked confused.

“I shouldn’t have let this happen.” He said, his voice full of remorse.

“It’s not your fault.” You said surprised by his guilt. It was your fault that you had gotten hurt. You should have been paying attention more, you had been the one to fail. You wanted to say more but there was a knock at the door.

The doctor entered and examined you. After assessing you they explained that the effects of the weapon were mostly internal. You had gotten some pretty bad bruises on your back from being thrown back and your nose had been bleeding a bit from the effects but there was nothing that could be done to stop the effects other than waiting.

After giving you some pain medicine and sleeping medicine the doctor advised that you needed to have someone take care of you until the symptoms subsided which Aizawa offered right away.

“You didn’t have to offer to take care of me.” You said. You liked Aizawa but you never felt like he returned the feeling, you had always assumed your personalities just didn’t work together.

“I’m not going to just let you sit in the hospital till you’re better.” He said. “Let me get you something to eat so you can take the medication. You’re nauseous right?”

“Yeah,” You answered.

Aizawa brought you a protein bar. “I know it’ll be hard to eat but it’s not that much and it will be good to get something in your stomach.”

You tried to give him a small smile as you accepted the food. It was hard to eat but you were able to do it. It was worth it if you could take the pain medication.

Aizawa brought you comfortable clothes so you could change out of your hero suit before he helped you into the bedroom. “He said the best thing you can do is lie still in a dark room.” He said as he helped you into his bed.

“Thank you, you’re too kind.” You said. You knew that Aizawa was a caring man but getting it first hand was different.

“I take care of the people I care about.” He said. Your eyes widened at his words, a part of you wondered if you had just imagined it.

“Care about?” You repeated.

“Yeah.” He said. “I know I haven’t shown it much but I do care about you a lot.”

“Oh,” You said shocked.

“But that’s something we should talk about when your head isn’t spinning.” He said and you let out a small laugh.

“I’ll let you sleep,” He said moving to get up but you grabbed his arm.

“Wait-” You stopped him. “Can you stay?” Maybe it was how defenseless you felt that made you so bold but Aizawa was keeping you grounded and you didn’t want him to leave.

“Okay.” He said sitting down next to you.

“Can you hold me?” You asked, when he had carried you earlier being held by him had felt so nice.

Aizawa moved, getting under the covers with you. Gently he got close to you, trying not to jostle you too much. His strong arms moved around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Is this okay?” His voice was low and close to you.

“Yes,” You said softly.

Even though your head was spinning and you still felt awful being in Aizawa’s arms knowing that he cared about you made everything feel better. And it would be even better when your head stopped spinning.

“Shouta?” You said quietly.

“Yeah?” He asked in a low voice.

“I care about you too. A lot.” You said. Aizawa smiled, his hand rubbing at your back as he pressed a kiss against your forehead.

taglist: message to join :)

#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shouta aizawa #my writing #bnha #mha #january event 2024

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russellsppttemplates · 3 months

Text

Time off the track (Lance Stroll)

Lance and Y/N enjoy having a long weekend off

Note: english is not my first language. I get all fluttery when I write these pieces! Had some trouble finding friends names (they're very private, and I respect that) so I just made up my own.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Sweetheart", Lance called from his spot on the sofa once he heard you arrive back home from work. "In a minute, just need to take these things off my feet", he heard you chuckle before the small creek from the cabinet where you stored your shoes.

"I'm here!", you walked inside, Lance's eyes doing his overall check-up. He didn't notice he was doing it until Henry pointed it out for him in the last race weekend you went to, but apparently the minute you showed up after being somewhere out of his sight, your husband's eyes checked you out from head to toe, looking for any signs of discomfort and then focusing on your babybump, usually bringing a smile to his lips.

"Sit here, I want a cuddle while I tell you my suggestion", he opened his arms, letting you wiggle around and into a comfortable position.

"Oh, what suggestion?", you wondered after you pecked his lips.

"The guys want to have spend the next weekend doing something fun together. It's a long weekend and it would nice spending time together", he explained, hand coming up to your bump and rubbing the skin under the cotton fabric of your shirt.

"That sounds good, actually. A weekend away that doesn't involve racing", you mumbled.

"There's actually a race, still. They want to go to Texas and watch", Lance offered, not wanting to keep you in the dark.

"What I meant was you wouldn't be racing, so we will be travelling all together and I have you to myself still", you wiggled your eyebrows, "and Texas is a really good idea, me and baby have been craving BBQ", you smirked.

"Other than seeing the race, we can just explore the area a bit, see what comes up and what people recommend we do", Lance added, "it will be good to take a few days off".

"Yes, enjoy the sun, good food, good company. Sounds good to me", you smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek and carrying on talking about each of your days.

The group consisted of you, Lance, Anna and her partner Michael, Mark and his wife Evie, Benjamin and Theo, arriving on time like scheduled to the airport, "how are we all feeling on this fine early morning?", Benjamin was the first to speak once you found yourselves by the gate.

"Could've done with a little bit more sleep, if I'm honest", Evie groaned into her husband's shoulder, "but otherwise very excited".

"Me too! Can't wait to feel some sun in my face", you smiled, taking off your jacket since you were feeling hot and giving everyone a show of your baby bump.

"Oh, it's so cute, Y/N! You look great!", Anna gasped, hands in front of her mouth as she got closer to you, "you're glowing!".

"And I also have these sexy things", you lifted your pants to show the compression socks the doctor recommended you wear whenever you boarded flights. You always travelled in comfy clothes, having learned over the years that any other way was simply not the way to go, so you had on a loungewear tracksuit, the flowy pants matching the equally roomy sweater.

"Doctor's orders?", she wondered and you nodded, "I already have issues as it is before getting pregnant, so it wasn't like I didn't expect it. You get used to them after a while", you said, checking to see if everyone was ready to walk to the plane once they checked your passports.

"Would you like something to drink before we take off?", the flight attendant wondered, taking orders from everyone, "could you please get us a bottle of water?", Lance asked, knowing you would forget about it.

"I was going to drink it", you teased, accepting the cup and drinking its content, "I remember what the doctor said", you smiled.

By the time you had been flying for a quarter of the expected time for the whole flight, you got up, walking along the small corridor while rubbing your bump.

"Is this a runway competition? Because we don't stand a chance when you look like that", Theo hyped you up, making you giggle as you exaggerated your walk for a few seconds before feeling your daughter kick.

"Doctor said to keep moving, since the socks can only do so much, and she's been kicking like crazy", you added, tapping the spot over your bellybutton where she seemed to kick harder.

"Hey! If she's kicking, I get privileges!", Lance called, making you stop in front of him as he places his palm where your hand was.

"Do you guys want to go get ready for the pool? I don't feel like doing much else today", Anna suggested, earning nods from everyone before you split into your rooms.

"Lance!", you called, seeing your husband come back from the balcony, "I think I need help taking these off, I can't bend properly", you blushed, not feeling strong enough to pull the socks away from your legs.

Chuckling, he bent down, kneeling on the floor so he could help you, massaging the skin and kissing your calves, "do they feel good?", he asked.

"Thank you", you groaned, wiggling your toes, "yes, it's a nice feeling, I might actually take these up after little one joins us, but they're a pain to get out", you offered, kissing his forehead and helping him get up, "let's go and enjoy the sunny day!", you cheered.

After getting ready, you met the rest of the group by the pool, the guys already in the water while the girls preferred to stay in the sun.

"Are you going us or joining them?", Michael wondered, "I'm going in the water, I've had enough of cold, gloomy days", you said, finding the steps so you could ease into the water. Taking off the cover up and throwing it to your chair, everyone's eyes travelled to your uncovered bump.

"Come here", Lance stretched his arms and beckoned you to approach him, chest and hair dripping wet since he had jumped in. Wrapping your arm around his waist, his right hand went to your bump immediately, "does he ever unlatch from your bump? Or is he always keeping his girls within arm reach distance?", Benjamin chuckled. It was all friendly banter and he was genuinely happy for his friends.

"A good mix of both", you confessed, "It's all new territory and we're going through all of this together. Besides, I've been feeling very clingy and wanting to start nesting, so I'm probably the one attached to him", you blushed.

"I want to float for a bit, your sister said that the best thing she did for her back pain when she was pregnant was relieve the pressure by being in the water", you held your husband's hand, getting ready to let yourself fall on your back.

"We're standing by here just in case you start sinking down like a nail", Mark noted with a giggle, making the boys do a circle around you and Lance as you kicked your legs up.

After a few moments of finding your balance, gravity and all things physics worked as your bump and chest rose up, poking out of the water while you floated, "Y/N! This is such a cute pick! Little one with all her uncles protecting you both!", Evie exclaimed, getting her phone and snapping a few pictures at the moment.

"Now move away, I want to snap a few of just Y/N, she looks glorious", she complimented as the boys swam away, "gorgeous, mama, absolutely gorgeous".

"It feels good", you moaned, "I feel so light weight, like, feather-light", you smiled when you saw Lance look back at you, "we can look into it when we go back home, anything to make you more comfortable, sweetheart", he said, kissing your lips before he held your ankles, moving your body as you giggled, not noticing Evie recording the video she claimed was "for when the little princess grows up and wants to know what love is". Her parents would be the best example and this one of the many moments to show it.

When you got back to the lounging chairs, carefully rubbing sun protection cream on before laying down, the boys started playing Padel in the court the house you rented had, shouts and groans heard while you and the girls got some colour on your skin.

"They're just little boys sometimes, aren't they?", Anna noted, seeing Lance and her boyfriend bicker about a foul.

"In some ways, I guess, but it's good they have eachother to spend time with, Goodness knows I won't play that", Evie sneered, "would you, Y/N?".

"What? Play Padel?", they nodded, "I've played with Lance before, with the other drivers and their partners. I'm not that great, but I'm not nearly as competitive as them, so I just play for the fun of it. Lance was kind enough to invite me out of it when he Charles were fighting for the first place in their Driver's Padel Championship", you chuckled.

"I love these dresses on you", Lance complimented, his hand grabbing yours and twirling you around, smiling when you faced him again and kissing your forehead.

"Thank you, my love", you added, seeing Michael return with the passes for the race, "we're all set guys, c'mon!", he nudged, handing everyone their pass before you walked to the entrance, a couple of photographers taking pictures and a group of fans asking Lance for autographs.

"That's where we will be", you pointed to the hospitality, walking in and choosing somewhere to sit. While you, Evie and Anna enjoyed this racing series, you were planning to stay on sofas while the boys were standing against the balcony railing so they could watch the race.

Throughout the weekend, you couldn't help but notice how Lance had been having so much fun with the boys, making a mental note to do these things more often when you had the opportunity.

He said something and loudly laughed, bringing your attention to him before your daughter made herself known, "it's daddy, I know", you smiled, rubbing your bump.

"She always kicks when he laughs?", Evie cooed, "My goodness, if you two don't stop being so cute, I'm next", she let out a groan.

"Yes, or when he speaks to the bump very closely. The books say she's able to recognise his voice, and it's very cute", you smiled, "although the bigger she gets, she'll soon start kicking my bladder".

"Wooo-ooh!", Lance said as you assumed the race was going well, looking back to check on you and blowing you a kiss.

The vineyard was truly stunning and, despite not taking part in the wine tasting for obvious reasons, you were having a great time.

"Are you also having lunch here? Our chef has done an excellent tasting menu", the young woman offered.

"We already have BBQ booked", Lance stated, "since my wife can't drink right now, we're giving her one of her pregnancy cravings. Maybe next time we visit", he nodded.

When you arrived at the restaurant, you were guided to the table, placing your things down and looking at the menu.

"Can you order for me, please? I really have to go to the bathroom", you wondered as Evie said she was going with you.

When the waiter came back, to the table, he started taking everyone's order, tapping on the iPad as they went along the table, "Can you just make sure the meat is cooked through, please? My wife is pregnant", Lance told the waiter, "absolutely, sir", before he left.

"You really get a kick out of it everytime you say she's pregnant, don't you?", his friend teased, "don't get me wrong, I think it's cute actually", Mark smiled.

"Of course I do, the woman I love is having our baby", Lance cooed, seeing you walk to the table back from the bathroom.

"And she looks incredibly gorgeous while she does it!", Anna said, "she's glowing, really. You guys are going to be such great parents, can't wait to meet the little princess".

"Neither can we, but soon enough", you smiled, accepting Lance's hand and holding it in yours, "soon enough".

#lance stroll imagine #lance stroll fanfic #lance stroll x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #lance stroll fluff

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rggie · 2 years

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< event m.list┆inside their phones

characters: vil, leona, cater

details: gn!reader / i forgot to verify vil sorry T-T

﹫cater diamond

the cringiest but sweetest boyfriend ever. I’M SORRY he’s trying to be the boy of your dreams but he’s flopping. he loves u so much though, so ignore how cheesy he is and appreciate that he’s gotten into all your favourite music artists :(

he adds a gazillion heart emojis by your contact name and it changes everyday because he can’t stick with one

he may be cringe but he is free

anyone who follows him on any sort of social media groans whenever he posts. it’s 99% of the time going to be him gushing about you. at least half of the school know how in love he is with you — his highlights on magicam can attest to that…

he’s the type of guy to share how long your facetime calls are with everyone (they last HOURS.. sometimes you guys don’t even talk, you just like being in each other’s presence. you’re too lazy to go see each other in person)

overall an amazing boyfriend, always making sure you know you’re loved. please do the same for him too!! you know, for when he feels a little low.

﹫ vil schoenheit

subtly flaunts your relationship but nobody knows who you are. it’s like the world’s biggest mystery. “Who Is Dating Vil Schoenheit?” trends online every few weeks

he’s gatekeeping you but he’s also showing you off?? like??? brags about you on his story but doesn’t say enough for anyone to connect the dots

if you eventually make it to his magicam page, just know you have won at life. this will be your biggest accomplishment. he’ll be super serious about the whole situation, since he’s exposing your relationship to a ton of fans; he doesn’t want you to feel overwhelmed or pressured by the exposure

he might start managing your social media account as well. you both have matching themes <3

﹫ leona kingscholar

leona does not use social media.

he’s just terrible with a phone overall, he forgets he has it on him and you guys miss each others’ calls. prefers when you’re with him in person because he can’t use these stupid apps!

in fact, he only made a magicam account so you could tag him in your posts.

people keep thinking you’re single, he got irritated

he also finds himself stalking your page every week or so because he’s wondering why he’s never seen any of these photos you’ve been posting??

and who on earth is taking these photos of you? why isn’t he the cameraman?

denies that he stalks your page even though you’re certain he has post notifications on because he’s always first like. (he doesn’t know any other magicam function)

once you let him on your phone and he accidentally started a live

he was half-asleep and shirtless. he couldn’t find the end live button so he switched off your phone and threw it. it was the talk of the school for a LONG time

trivial things like magicam are just a waste of time for him, he’d rather not

#event・recently deleted 🗑#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst smau #twst texts #twst fake texts #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #🐾・/ rggie twst

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meguchi512 · 3 months

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assigning behaviors I've noticed in people to pjsk characters:

tsukasa: writes his name EVERYWHERE. his desk at school has "tsukasa" "tsukasa" "tsukasa" "tsukasa" written all over it, his notebooks too and even his classmates' notebooks (from a classmate)

shizuku: says "oh, madonna!" instead of "oh god" (from my italian grandpa)

saki: tsukasa rides a bike and saki sits on the handlebar & every time they have to stop they fall off but they just get up and go on like nothing's happened (from an old friend)

mizuki: accidentally sends "penis shaped messages" and immediately points it out (me)

ena: is so fucking done with mizuki's penis messages (my friends)

kanade: "uhh i think I'm forgetting something? oh well it probably wasn't important" hasn't drank water since yesterday (me again)

rui: extremely verbose, to the point where everyone around him thinks he's some sort of philosophical genius but in reality he's just saying dumb shit and articulating it intelligently (my italian grandpa again so sorry)

an: sends her friends "hot milfs in your area" messages pretending to be a bot because silly and immediately gets banned ( @robinoullea literally)

airi: wants to be supportive but types way too quickly ( @robinoullea trying to say "10/10")

emu: says the most deranged things in roblox chats and manages to not get censored while her friend (nene) can't even go one sentence without "########" ( @harukaisu )

nene, trying to tell tsukasa to reset his roblox avatar because he got stuck: uhhh kill yourself (me) (I'M SO SORRY)

minori: tries to download a pin and accidentally sends it to a random person and dies of embarrassment (everyone. no one is safe from Pinterest's AWFUL interface)

ichika: goes into a store. gets an ingredient. goes back home. goes back. gets an ingredient. goes back home. repeat until she's got everything to make dinner when it's already 11pm (my forgetful mom)

mafuyu: has the most DERANGED dreams I'm not even kidding ( @robinoullea when he had that one dream where he sent me a tiktok meme of Richard Watterson saying the names of popular pornstars with them flashing on screen for a second each. I've cried real tears about this btw)

kohane: has a chicken farm in minecraft but she's so attached to them that she can't kill any of them for food so they just keep reproducing and in turn the server keeps getting laggier. eventually a creeper explodes right next to it and she throws herself off a mountain (me)

haruka: uses the default pfp which is also the pfp that shows when you get blocked by someone. she also turns her phone off often (which causes messages to not get sent until it's on) so minori always panics and sends her messages to make sure she's not blocked (classmate)

akito: makes gagging noises on purpose because it makes ena gag too and get VERY annoyed and he finds it funny (classmate)

toya: unintentionally causes a lot of fights in vbs regarding what the best way to make coffee is (my whole friend group) (except me i do it on purpose)

honami: whenever someone tags her in l/n's group chat she heroically says "who calls for my help?" ( @robinoullea )

shiho: doesn't have the heart to tell honami how funny it is when she does that (not me i always make sure to mention it)

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hwaightme · 11 months

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This world

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR BIKER!HWA'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

🏍️ pairing: biker!seonghwa x f!reader 🏍️ genre: romance, fluff, action, smut, strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, smidgen of angst, sprinkles of comedy 🏍️ summary: caught between the past and present, you search for a new beginning in night city as a mechanic at outlaw customs. how will a fateful encounter with seonghwa, the leader of the blue birds, help you feel alive? 🏍️ wordcount: 16.2k 🏍️ warnings/tags: biker!hwa, quick edit, likely inaccuracies in mechanics and motorcycles, mechanic!yunho, businessman!jongho, biker!yeosang, mechanic!reader, tattooed!reader, gang life/activity, misuse of lore terminology, language, food, wounds/injuries, pain, bike chases and dangerous tricks, talk of death/rebirth, identity searching, imagery and setting inspired by outlaw trailers, lmk if anything else 🏍️ a/n: i gave myself a one day break, listened to a dream i had... and this happened. totally was not spooked today and rushed to edit in a feverish state... always, any notes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, much love~

🏍️ a/n pt2: biker!hwa supremacy also spreads to the exchange event hosted by @kflixnet for @qqtxt (and thank you @alohajun for organising!) - hope you enjoy!!

🏍️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @yunbug

🏍️ cannot be tagged: @mystar1024

🏍️ nsfw tags: condom used, slow, a dom!leaning reader with a soft!hwa, handjob, slight edging, praise, save a bike - ride a biker, focus on intimacy and emotional experience, some mutual masturbation, f!masturbation, literally just two people in love with each other, cuddling and implied aftercare

The artificial suns of Night City shone bright in a palette of neon hues, so vivid and vibrant that one could almost forget that there had ever been a real star in the first place. Kids wished on blinking lightbulbs and travellers followed endless expanses of darkness, more accustomed to uncertainty than the belief that there was a veritable ally in the form of a celestial sign or a constellation. Everyone wore the same perfume: an acrid concoction of smog, grease and disgust that lingered whenever a visitor from another district came by, blending to form a hatred for all things that existed outside of the palace of neon. This was the palace that you had willingly made your home, and found that if you were to shut your eyes and then dare to peek through your lashes at the kaleidoscopic landscape, it took on the shape of an eloquent illusion of divinity. A rudimentary vision, a utopia carved out in impermanence, commanded by wishful thinking and a desire for anything except what you had known. This was your new home, and you were going to try as you might to cling to it, and find peace amidst the suffocating starless expanse.

You had arrived without a particular plan in mind, with only a rucksack and the tattoos decorating your skin to keep you company on your journey. The only persistent parasite that gnawed at your flesh and jolted you awake like a scalding whip when the roads seemed to be endless, was a burning desire to erase anything, everything that served as a reminder. While you were a believer in growing from the past, and reflecting on it, treating each memory and learned skill as a stepping stone towards a better future, the weight of each step was overwhelming, the gaps between them unbearable, and soon enough, you found yourself to be stretched too thin over your own existence, to the point where you had gained an alarming transparency, one tiny step away from disappearing into the lack of self that you had wholly succumbed to until your sudden evaporation and accidental escape to Night City.

At the same time, you were not entirely ungrateful for the ‘you’ you had become. The miscellaneous arsenal of know-how and street smarts landed you a job, had you settled into a group of people who did not seem too bad and most importantly did not ask too many questions, gave you a roof over your head and had you working long hours in the garage from the get-go. That, from your experience, was the best way to forget and to start anew. So long as you did not speak to your clients more than necessary, instead focusing on their priceless metal steeds that you had the pleasure of tinkering with for hours on end. In this way, you got to see your clients at their most vulnerable, scrutinising you but so helpless that it nearly made you laugh, comparing the scene to a child watching their mother patch up a toy that they had torn after playing a little too roughly.

This approach turned out to be the one that won the big bucks in the city. Less talk, more trust. And resulted in the previously sceptical owners of the mechanic shop you had strolled into on your first day in town, passively protecting the shell of the self that you carried, uncaring for what fate had in store, to finally begin to warm up to you and treat you less like a pest, and more like a colleague. Only took them a couple of months. Though it would be foolish to hope for anything else, so you had simply settled into the rhythm of waking up, heading downstairs from the crammed studio that they had offered you - a stuffy dark corner, definitely the humblest abode but more than enough to crash in and more than generous for a person who had been a total stranger, and going to a different open cave in the garage and workshop, this time one dedicated to all things motorcycle. Since Outlaw Customs, a name which you had found incredibly comedic and ironic considering a high percentage of the clientele fit the shop description, was primarily for automobiles, there was not much dedicated to the untameable beauties that you loved so much. The head of the shop, a young man by the name of Jeong Yunho who you swore spent more time under cars than under those neon lights outside, did motorcycle repairs mainly out of necessity, following the recipes for replacement, so to speak. The locals knew that to see his craftsmanship, mastery and artistry at work, they needed to let him get his hands on a car. Of course, it did not mean that he could not fix bikes, far from that, in fact, over the years and especially after another mechanic shop was busted by the forces and forced to close for something or other - no one could ever guess what new crime was added to the list on any given day, Yunho was proud to say that he did not need to consult his hefty stack of manuals for when the most regular clients came by. But it did still mean that when he found out that he could pass off the task to a new hire, he did it in a split second, without sparing it a single thought.

As such, it was you, your beloved corner in the workshop, and a tranquillity under those buzzing fluorescent bulbs lined up on the ceiling. Not talking much, mainly business, occasionally sharing a laugh with your coworkers. They were easy to like, that much you had gathered over the months of being paid in shelter, food, water, and whatever else you needed so long as you kept on working to keep the brutes of Night City happy and the engines roaring. While the other guy in charge, Choi Jongho, an initially unreadable, unpredictable man who appeared in the store at random and mainly handled the ‘financials’, whatever it meant and you sure as all things bad were not about to get your nose in that side of the business, was somewhat less cordial with you, your nonchalance when it came to social interaction had put him at ease, along with, how he had it, your hands that told your story. Interesting what he could spot under the machine grease and fading ink.

It was another timeless day where Jongho was out for what he called ‘negotiations’ - again you did not need to know what it meant so long as the parts kept coming, Yunho was messing about with an old mustang that the customer said could be changed according to the mechanic’s own tastes, and you were idle, having just completed a re-flash of an engine control unit for a rider who apparently had nothing to lose and let you fully reconfigure his precious in the hopes of improving rideability. Same old for you, but nevertheless exciting when a new person gets so vulnerable so as to give their bike up with only faith in their hands, and in yours.

Wheeling the bike away from the main platform, you parked it right at the empty section by the brick wall lining the inner part of the garage, the aftermath of a miniature spring clean you had carried out to prep the workspace for a higher volume of bikes coming through. After patting the seat, as if lulling the machine into a slumber, you covered it with a tarp to protect it from any other dust or sparks - and subconsciously, from curious eyes if there were any that would peek into the shop. You stood up straight, taking the towel from your shoulder and attempting to wipe off the remains of your work, though much like your boss, who was now humming some random tune that he probably heard at one of the underground clubs, took pride in each stain, each streak of dirt. It was a reminder that you were here, you were present and alive, and that you were doing what others could never do exactly like you could. If anything, it was a breath of fresh air, the only one that could be ever taken in any Sector, in any City that existed in this nation, and you were almost convinced that this spread to the whole world.

Finding the stool on wheels that apparently used to belong to a nearby barbershop until that closed down, you sat down and sighed, rocking side to side by repeatedly pushing yourself with your feet before getting tired of the motion and rolling across to a workbench that you and Yunho had managed to craft out of a multi-shelved storage unit abandoned on the street, clearly another Sector’s kind donation to the local community, and you were not too proud nor picky. Picking up a brake pedal - a part off a ruined Kawasaki Ninja 2H/R that the universe threw into your arms after the wreck and helped you salvage, somewhat out of respect for the beast that it had been in its heyday, somewhat because you wondered if you could make it work on a horrific Frankenstein’s monster hybrid someday, or another bike of the same make, you twisted it, metal glinting white. The weight of memories, the feeling of it pressing against the foot despite the thick layers of rubber on the boot. Everything about that bike was as hypnotising as a dancing open flame, stunning, an engineering masterpiece, and one that you were praying to revisit, re-experience even if it was the last thing you were to ever do. Perhaps in a distant dream. Replacing the component in a top drawer of the bench, you got to work on signing off on the work completed, not that anyone even had a legal signature anymore, it was more of a quick doodle to hint at the work completed, just in case if the rider were to find themselves too far away, and had no method of fixing faults and could not recall the mods made. As if that would ever happen; you exhaled sharply, finishing the swift sketch and folding the paper in half, then into quarters and dropping the pen to let it hit the back wall. It was suspiciously peaceful at the OC, you concluded, unsettling. Only Yunho going about his business, the artificial cylindrical suns, and the neon climbing from the outside and coating the front entrance to the garage in shades of blue, purple and magenta.

You waited in suspense, having caught the echoes of an engine in the far distance - still a few too many blocks away from you to determine what the source of it was exactly, but nevertheless, your instincts and the obvious approach of the sound was telling you that you were soon going to find out. Shutting your eyes, you made out an odd stuttering, reminiscent of a coughing fit in a human, as if the air system was out of tune, totally whack on the poor vehicle. The heart ached. Who could possibly mistreat a bike in such a way? Clutching onto the fabric of your black cargo trousers that you had decided would be something of a uniform for you, you listened on, confused. The rumble was familiar, albeit torn up and in need of a fix. Nonetheless, this was a powerful steed, a respectable monster that you could not wait to dissect and reassemble. Hands beginning to burn with excitement, heart starting to race, you stared off into the wall, waiting for the customer to arrive and made your guesses as to what the motorcycle could be like any mechanic in need of a fun pastime would. If you guessed correctly, you were in for an exhilarating time.

Soon enough, you heard the bike grind to a halt outside of the shop, and the thump of feet hitting the concrete. Not yet looking up, you waited for the figure to approach and cross the line that marked the end of the driveway and the beginning of the garage. Hearing Yunho make a move to roll out from under the car, evidently after having seen the boots form below and recognising them, you began your own sign of common courtesy and moved to turn and stand from the stool.

“Good time of day, welcome to Outlaw Customs how may I-”

“Rear wheel is busted and the mudguard’s wrecked on the right edge, and the spark plugs need replacing - totally fouling. Can you do that in two hours? I’m on a tight schedule.

You froze, the politeness caught in your throat and fizzling out to be replaced with an astonishment at the crudeness. Raising your head to let yourself inspect the man before you fully, you found that he looked every bit like the arrogance that had oozed from the first words he spoke to you. The flashy black and orange outfit, the glimmering belt buckle, the damn chains… the usual lowlife from a gang who had nothing better to do than to be the pretty boy. Slowly, your hope for the particular bike you had placed mental bets on dissipated, to be replaced by a wish that this hoodlum had a standard no-name, beat up and totally not worth the money ride that you could half-ass and let him disappear.

With a sigh, you heaved yourself forward, approaching the biker with a cold resolve and purposefully taking your time with every movement, seeing as the less you had to speak, the higher were the chances that you were not going to cuss this man out and focus on the work you had set out for you. Knowing the bikers from these parts, either they were too knowledgeable and could diagnose correctly enough, or they were so utterly wrong that you wanted to bash their head in. Time would tell which one of the two this guy was. Before you could get a word in, much to your fortune, Yunho was by your side and wiping his hands to give the black-haired man a firm handshake. You noted that the visitor was shorter than your boss, giving you a slight inner satisfaction for an unknown reason, but you bit any remarks back and remained stone faced, seeing as you were not sure just how hostile this man was going to be towards you.

“Seonghwa, long time no see!” your boss greeted the man who now had a name, very animated, amiable. You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in a silent question.

“I see you have a new hire. Business doing well?” being addressed in third person was unsettling, but it was better than attempting to hold eye contact with the biker who gave you the urge to forget professionalism and throw a punch at lightning speed. It was hilarious how quickly your instincts returned to you in such circumstances.

“Guess you could say that, thanks to her, mainly.” with a playful smugness Yunho responded, placing a hand on your shoulder. If you did not know better, you would think that he was showing off, but his glance at you, a quick check, and his gestures made you think of your brother. Bittersweet, but still a fond series of chapters.

“Oh?” it was impossible to tell whether Seonghwa was mocking you or just taking the piss of the tenseness that he brought with him, but the bugger dared to pretend to be pleased with your presence, nearly making you scowl. But you were too good at treating people with an unnerving neutrality, so an unperturbed mechanic ready to inspect the ride you remained, much to the biker’s dissatisfaction.

You could tell that he put up a front of sorts, an attention-seeking, egoistic and merciless front, the presentation of the mentality of a murderer on the road, the man who would not hesitate to lead you into a ruin just for laughs. It was always fun to dismantle the nerve cells of such bastards; all you needed was his bike. His eyes found yours quickly enough, confident, unwavering, and your lips curled into a close-mouthed smile as if you were not just pondering the destruction of his ego. A flash of what could only be described as curiosity passed over his irises, and you swore you saw his pupils adjust as if they were a camera lens ready to capture you. His gaze travelled down your body and back up again, studying you, taking you in, settling on the tattoos that adorned your forearms and were revealed by you having pushed up the sleeves of the black turtleneck you were wearing. What was he searching for, you asked yourself before you noticed the solitary, dangling earring on his left ear discovering a single silver feather on its end. Of course he had to be a Blue Bird. Of course he had to be a so-called peace keeper of the city. No wonder he was so full of himself, at least upon first meeting. Now you really wanted to see his bike.

“Motor master, I tell you. Can sort out your beauty in no time.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Seonghwa squinted, earning an eye roll from your boss.

“Got you, yeah. Anyways, meet Y/N,” the man turned to you once again, seeing how your expression remained unchanged, “she’ll be finding common ground with your bike from now on. “Noticing how neither of you spoke nor made a move to greet, Yunho raised his hands and continued while ambling back to the car, “Now, now, don’t talk over one another, you will have plenty of time to chat.”

“So,” you began, not wishing to remain unproductive any longer and wanting to rid yourself of this client as soon as possible, “Seongh-”

“Mars.”

“Mars?”

“You address me as Mars.” he commanded, crossing his arms, the corner of his lip curling up as you searched for the right response, but quickly falling as you suppressed the desire to sneer and merely adjusted yourself to the pesky, petty demands. You had met worse, much worse than the urban chic version of hierarchy and names. Mars was something you could deal with easily enough, and gave you a lot more insight than Seonghwa could imagine.

“Mars, care to show me your bike?”

“Mm. Follow me, Y/N.” he emphasised your name, as if the fact that you did not have a title nor a nickname gave him some odd power trip - to be frank, it would not be surprising if this actually was the case.

As you followed him out to the front, you noticed his gait was ever so slightly out of balance, a miniscule limp, likely following an injury. Again, something so common with your customers, but made you soften up the tiniest bit - in some senses Seonghwa reminded you of a wild animal that was pretending to be strong. Frustrating, yes, but he was out there trying his best to survive in the way that he knew and could. Much like everybody else, including yourself. You kept your gaze trained on the man’s back as you walked on until you very quickly found yourself right in front of the beast whose roar you had heard from all that distance away. You broke into a full grin, making Seonghwa’s brows knit together as he became perplexed. As it turned out, your prediction was more than right, and before you was a gorgeous, sleek, though having seen some battles, Suzuki Hayabusa. Customised, adored and kept pristine from what you could see. The damage that the motorised excellence had sustained looked to be new, perhaps even acquired a mere couple of hours ago, but other than that the steed was the closest you had seen to true love in Night City. It was clear that despite Seonghwa offering not the best impression, the bike told a different story, and as you crouched down to briefly inspect it at proximity, you nearly gasped. Each valve, each tiny detail was treated with kindness and affection, as if this man spent every spare moment only caring for it. The paint did made you want to giggle, however. Aside from the signature hanja for peregrine falcon, purposefully highlighted with neat strokes of paint to highlight the engineering finesse and power contained in the supreme machine, the motorcycle was completed in a dual tone, with the majority of the body done in a midnight black, and the detailing and smaller body components being done in a copper orange - stunning complement to the outfit of the rider, a full unit of owner and two-wheeler. One body, one mind. If you could start your first impression here, your thoughts of Seonghwa would be a lot more friendly, you determined. But that was the beauty of being a mechanic, you got to know people a lot closer, in secret, unknown to them. This man had a soul on fire. A soul he was attempting to hide, a soul that manifested itself in one of the fastest production motorcycles. And a soul that most certainly knew what was wrong with its metal body - the diagnoses were pleasantly accurate.

“What are you smiling for?”

“Hm, let’s get this beauty in the garage, yeah?”

He obliged, but still did not let you touch the vehicle as he pushed it along until you told him where to leave it. Occupying an old armchair right by the platform where you fixed the bike in place, Seonghwa watched your every move, scrutinised you as you started your work on the Busa, impatient. It was customary for the bikers that came to OC to remain here like a spouse waiting for their loved one to come out of surgery, but his predator-like focus was beginning to get unsettling and ruined your concentration. You could not speak to the bike in front of you, you could not gain its trust while its owner was staring you down like you were about to tear everything apart and turn the motorcycle into scraps. Letting a tool fall onto the mat that you had rolled down on the floor, you raised your head an deadpanned to the man, catching him off-guard:

“It’ll be three hours since I expect you want the guard done up all pretty. Get me jjajangmyeon from the place down the street and I might speed it up to your optimistic two.”

Yunho’s guffaw resonated across the shop as he heard your statement and imagined the shocked look on Seonghwa’s face upon receiving the daring request. Indeed, the man was more than taken aback, curious as to how important you deemed yourself to talk to him in such style. But at the same time, it was beyond amusing. The cheek, the attitude behind a cold and monotone sentence was alluring. There was something more to you than what Yunho had proposed, and that was reassuring. Perhaps you did have the right energy to find common ground with his priceless Suzuki. Still, the first word to escape him as he recoiled from the jab was an airy question of:

“What?” quickly countered with:

“They do late night deals. Half price. If you get there within the next half hour that is. Get Yunho and yourself a bowl while you’re at it and I’ll get the job done to fit your busy schedule and be enviable.”

“Boss, are you hungry?” you called out to Yunho, who was still giggling from under the vehicle, making it appear as if the car itself was caught in a comedy.

“Aye.”

“Done then, Mars, would you be a dear and do an orbit there and back?” you could not stop yourself from bringing his chosen, given or acquired through a brutal climb name into the mix. The opportunity was just too much of a low hanging fruit to not take it.

You were playing with fire, that much was certain. You could tell that he was contemplating putting you on a hitlist; not something that you were not used to, seeing as you were still in a client-facing role even if a lot of your time was spent with silent steely beauties. But you took a risk with Seonghwa, you ceased to be careful, spurred on by the euphoric prospect of treating the customised, souped up and customised Hayabusa, and took a shot in the dark with your forwardness. As the blood that was pumping in your ears got louder with every passing moment, and you began to doubt whether this was the right call to make to get some along time with the steed, Seonghwa stirred after his ponderings. Rising from the armchair, the chains that adorned his neck glinting under the lights, he stretched more for show than for comfort and exhaled through his nose, suppressing a chuckle.

“Ask for jjamppong on top of that and I will snap your arms in half.”

“You are too kind.” catching him mid turn, you responded, making him look back, and give you a playful, mischievous glance over his shoulder, almost boyish, as if the two of you were good friends that were used to the banter.

Releasing a breath that you did not realise you had been holding after the man disappeared from view, you returned to the Suzuki that was gracing your vision. Yunho’s laughter had subsided, and once again the buzz of the lights was the only thing that was between you and total silence. Diving into your work, you read the story etched into the curves, the miniscule dents, the scratches that were invisible to the naked eye but still there, hinting at just how much the bike and, evidently, the rider went through. The fixes were going to be complicated, but nothing that you could not do with what you had in the shop. You rested a hand on the engine, thinking of your next move, and of the dark glimmering orbs of the biker whose soul was still right here with you, watching, inspecting, but attempting, bit by bit, to trust that you would do the mechanical masterpiece justice. Of course you would, you were getting a late dinner for it after all. Besides, it was easy to love such a stunning bike, especially when you could see that it was truly loved by its owner. A soft smile on your face, you leaned forward and got back to dismantling a broken detail from the main body, already excited for the inner workings you would see behind it; the closest thing to true light that one could get in the sadistic, somnolent city of neon and night.

After the first appointment came another, and another, and more after that. The Busa almost became your personal project as what had previously been menial tasks carried out by an amateur mechanic and devilish rider, now fell to you. You knew this motorcycle better than you knew all of your tattoos, that much you were sure of. From the piping to the seating to the turbocharger you had installed, it was clear enough that Seonghwa was more than willing to let you tinker with the bike as much as he wanted you too, which with every unscheduled drop in became longer and longer. At times, Yunho would be there to participate in some idle chatter, other times, it was merely you and him on your own, either in a perfect stillness, with only the bike making the music and talking for you both, or with the occasional question thrown in either direction.

You had found out bit by bit that Seonghwa was, as you had assumed, a member of the Blue Birds - the local crew of vigilantes, from what your boss and your ghost of a boss had told you. Brutal and unforgiving, they had taken it upon themselves to maintain something of an order in the district, though you never asked for the details on how exactly they did it. You had learned over your lifetime to ask less, unless it was about mechanics; that was always a safe bet, and a point that you would always return to if you felt the conversation going into a direction that you did not wish to explore. All other inquiries normally answered themselves from what you noticed - for instance, the limp was now gone, to be replaced by rather grim looking knuckles. But again, no comment from you. It was above your pay grade. Seonghwa, at some point, had also caught onto your avoidance and tendency to cling onto bikes for conversation, but had taken it upon himself to probe further and further through what you considered to be a strong enough barrier, to figure out why exactly was one of your tattoos on the right forearm a mark that he had avoided at all costs when he was still a youngster back in the place he used to go home, many kilometres away, now reachable through highways to hell. He could not ask directly, not when you could clog up his air filters or ruin the braking system right then and there, but curiosity was getting the better of him as the weeks turned into months, and you were doing your regular check up on the Busa.

“What’s your favourite bike, Y/N?”

“Why the sudden question?”

“Why answer a question with a question?”

“Hm… yours is pretty good.” you tried to brush his inquiry away, even though your mind instantly went to the answer, and remained stuck. You could hear the engine resonate in your chest, and could feel the handles in your palms, as you gripped onto them, tighter, tighter and turned. The feeling of a machine coming to life right beneath you, ready to race into the darkness and obey your every instruction. Turn after turn after turn. Somewhere along that race, you lost your soul, and longed for it. Blinking slowly, you hoped that Seonghwa would leave the conversation where it was, but knew that he was going to do everything except that.

“No but really. Every mechanic, every biker has their favourites. Hell, even Yunho has one and he doesn’t really work on them anymore.” leaning forward to rest his head in the palm of his hand as his elbow positioned itself on his right thigh, he focused on your response, down to the body language and each one of your cells could feel it.

“Hard to pick.” Again, vague, but you wanted to get away, hide yourself. The sensation of the brakes, how the loyal companion to your every conquest could glide across the streets and halt just when you wanted it to, make impossible turns and let you caress the ground through thick gloves that have seen the wildest tricks and fastest getaways… it was all far too vivid. Too much for you to bring up while you were trying to work. Swallowing your spit, you shook your head slightly as Seonghwa commented that you were not responding to him.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What you are thinking about.”

“And what am I thinking about?” abandoning the Busa, you gave the body a wipe with towel and dropped it to the floor, raising yourself up you fell onto the spinny stool, and eyed Seonghwa right back, despising the smirk that was threatening to break out on his lips that were far to soft and lush for a damn outlaw.

“The bike. Your bike. You used to ride, didn’t you?”

“...Hm.”

“I can feel it. No need to pretend.” he had already formed his suspicions. In fact, he had put two and two together a long enough time ago. All he needed was a confirmation, a mention of that same bike that he had heard of, a name to a face that had haunted him for as long as he was leading the Blue Birds.

“Yeah. I did. Not anymore though.” your voice grew colder, dismissive as you turned to look out at the neon lights. A flicker caught your attention - the sign for the Japanese restaurant that opened and closed only when the owner wanted to was caught in a starlike sparkling, the fluctuating light making it seem as though the luminescence was alive. Alive. Curious choice of words.

“What was it?”

“It?”

“Let’s start with the bike.”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Just curious, no biggie.”

Afraid of what you could say if you were to dive into elaborating your memories and sentimentality, you stood up and walked to the work bench, retrieving the component that you had brought with you to the city, and kept it with you at all times. Giving it one last look, you strode over to an expectant and enthusiastic Seonghwa, motioning for him to stretch out his hands. As you watched him inspect the item, turning it and checking each nook and cranny, your heart felt heavy. Was it really that long since the brake pedal was attached to the swift stunner? A glorious ink black, with piping of the skeleton completed in a vibrant poisonous green. A nightmare. Your love, your priceless dream.

“A Kawasaki?” he whispered half to himself. So it was how he had indeed attempted to predict.

“Kawasaki Ninja H2R.”

“Two hundred and twenty-eight kilowatts without ram-air?”

“I played around with that.”

“Sure you did. Wow. Really that’s pretty.”

“Mhm.” you took the brake pedal from Seonghwa’s hands, returning it back to the drawer.

Suddenly, it all felt too real. The last moments raw, the feeling that the motorcycle was still with you, still outside, parked and patiently waiting for you, was too clear in your head that you had attempted to train to believe that that stage in your life was over. Done. Finished. You had crossed the metaphorical finish line and that was all there was to it. But Seonghwa was not letting up, instead choosing to dig into the wound and watch as blood began to trickle.

“Now that explains it.”

“What?” you knew you were going to regret asking, but did so still.

“The tattoo.”

“What tattoo?” your eyes narrowed as you propped yourself against the bench and crossed your arms.

“The one on your arm. The right one.” he pointed as if he just won a game of spot the difference, leaving you irritated.

“What of it? I have many.”

“Not one that belongs to the Black Pirates. I am no fool, Y/N. I’ve seen the mark before and truthfully, I am surprised you are still alive.”

“I am too.” you huffed, finding your boots to be awfully interesting.

“Sacrificed the bike?”

You did not answer. You did not want to answer because it was clear that Seonghwa could answer the question for you. And for that, you loathed him in that given moment, despite overall finding his company to be almost comforting in recent weeks. In reality, the Kawasaki saved you from utter demise. Sliding on its side across the highway at record speed, sparks flying in the air and the screeching penetrating through your helmet to embed itself into your bones, the bike made it seem as though you were truly done for when, as luck would have it, you had gotten away with only a few scratches and a lot of foliage clinging to the torn up leather you had worn. As you had made your leap off the out of control beauty, the hero fighting its last battle it collided with cement to split and crumble into smithereens, the fuel tank pierced and beginning to seep out the fluid. A couple of gunshots later, and the bike was caught aflame, and all you could see from the group below where you had fallen, was the occasional licks, smoke and more sparks, your soul departing the metal body. The brake pedal, by some odd circumstance, had flown off and landed in your direction, nearly crashing into your visor. You had cradled it in your hands, sliding down on your back further and further to the moist earth beneath the highway until you were totally concealed from all viewpoints, hidden by pillars and rusted armature. When you were sure that those who you had called family, called friends, called comrades sped away, confident that you were there splattered on the cement and roasting, thanks to the bag that had been left on the seats serving practically as a dummy, you had begun to weep, never knowing for what, but certain that you were not yourself anymore. You had died.

Unbeknownst to you, as your vision blurred and mist settled to accompany the rising melancholia, Seonghwa had risen from the armchair and cautiously stepped closer and closer to you, until he was barely an arm’s reach away. Gaze drifting, you only took notice of the change when the knuckles came into view. Those bruised, bloodied knuckles, obviously treated by a person who knew nothing about caring for themselves. Silly man. A silly, silly man who wanted to put up a front; a front that might just have been yours, and your family’s ruin.

“Hey, are you-”

“No.” you retorted before he could accentuate what you deemed to be your weakness. Pushing yourself off the bench you were about to make a beeline for somewhere, anywhere, make up and excuse, but felt a gentle hand wrap around your wrist. Shocked, you stilled yourself and attempted to tug, only feeling the grip getting stronger until Seonghwa pulled you towards him, so that you would be face to face.

“I-... I’m sorry. I know how much this hurts and-”

“Do you?” cold, you hissed.

“...I can see it. I am sorry for your loss. And I am sorry for making you relive it.”

A smile, ones that graced those who had little to lose and little to wish for except perhaps a restart as another person, in another body, in another time and life, melted over you as you tested the strength of Seonghwa’s hold another time. Not budging. You did not dare to check his expression, for you knew that it would make you crack.

“Do you need any-”

“One more word and I will snap your arms in half.” recalling your first meeting, you muttered the empty threat.

“You are too kind.” he echoed, deliberating whether to give himself up to the urge and pull you closer.

So it was you who he had heard about after all. The demon on the roads, Icarus who had gotten too close to the sun of power, and was violently shoved from the pedestal of grace and familial leadership into the torment, into the abyss, stripped of all you knew and had. He had learned about you through fable-like gossip that his childhood friend, who caught up with the wrong crowd and became a member of the Black Pirates had shared over a couple of drinks when Seonghwa had visited. Same night he had shared that he wanted to leave, but as it had turned out, he was someone not quite lucky to make an escape and someone who Seonghwa was meant to forget. But besides the passing of another, someone who he could not save even though he tried, never did he think that the beast on the Kawasaki would be you. The you that he had come to know. The sensitive, albeit snarky and strong-headed you. The you who was a gifted mechanic, a woman who breathed the craft, the art, the science, the life that was that of a biker. Never before did he see anyone treat the Busa with such respect, nor make such accurate guesses about the fights and chases that it had participated in. Looking back, it should have been obvious that you had a history. You knew more than you ever let on. Perhaps you knew Seonghwa like he knew the streets of Night City, and now, your true past.

“The… yeah the Hayabusa’s done. By the way.” you tried to veer the conversation away, and fortunately this time, Seonghwa agreed.

“Thank you.”

“Standard rate.”

“Yep.”

“Everything is sort-”

“May I-”

You shot him an aggressive, piercing gaze, threatened by the change in tone. Far from his usual upbeat lilt, it was deeper, slower, sticky and sweet like molasses and you did not want to get pulled in. You clambered for air, for any relief away from his man, the man who had so openly shared his soul with you. He stammered and cleared his throat, finally letting go of your wrist. The sharp change in temperature was nearly unwelcome as the ghost of his soft fingers remained, caressing your flesh.

“Would you want to join a patrol now?” the inquiry, hanging in the air, dangling like a treat as the adrenaline rushed across your body. You had to feel guilty, surely, after having mourned the loss of your beloved Kawasaki and just revisited its final minutes, you had no right to be looking forward to another rush. You did not need it. You should not need it nor want it. And yet, you found yourself nodding almost immediately, much to Seonghwa’s delight. A reassuring warm hand on your upper arm, a lean forward letting Seonghwa catch your glossy eyes, him asking when you can close up shop and you mumbling that you were done for the day, or night. It was alway nighttime. The soothing blanket of navy blue, sleepy over the streets that you were about to explore under Seonghwa’s guidance.

As the dark haired man settle on the bike and appeared to adjust his wristwatch, holding his helmet while you found a spare displayed on one of the shelves - showed marks of wear and tear but good enough for a couple rides more, he felt his heartbeat turn erratic, and what was normally a bearable thrum turn into an erratic, unbelievable pace that only amplified in his skull and quickened once your arms were wrapped around his torso, holding onto him, your body pressed against his. If there was ever a hazard on the road for him, it was this. Your intoxicating closeness that made him want to ride forever more, never stopping if that meant that you could stay exactly where you were. How you were. It was surreal that the rider, the legend that he had grown to respect from the tales, was the woman that he had now grown to love.

As he sped down the streets, the neon had shone down on you in different colours, a bolder, more optimistic palette that made you beam right back. You clutched onto Seonghwa’s leather jacket, seeking more support as the exhilaration began to overwhelm you. It had been far too long since the last time you felt the wind hit you in this way, you felt the engine rushing you on between the trees of the concrete jungle, the windows and doors, the stray passers-by zooming right past you as the bike accelerated. It was not the same, of course, nothing could ever be, but the feeling, that distant feeling and warm memory was enough to remind you that you indeed were alive and you had the future to look to. A future that Seonghwa wanted to help you find. Hugging him tighter, you let yourself be carried away from the shop you closed up, away from the pleasant routine you had aimed to settle into all the way towards a moment of freedom and that familiar rush.

When you arrived at the destination, which turned out to be an abandoned parking lot under an equally barren road, illuminated only by a single streetlight with two bulbs, you noticed that there were a few people already gathered, including some familiar faces who were chatting away while wheeling their rides out of what you would describe as some concealed warehouse into better starting positions. Feeling a wave of shyness, you did not move as Seonghwa stopped the bike and stretched his legs out to balance it. Only after you sense more movement, and approaching footsteps did your arms snake away on their own accord and tug at your helmet. The man seemed to sense this since, as soon as his own helmet was off, he turned to you to whisper a quick “you okay?”. You feebly nodded, and found the ground with your military-style boots.

Quickly enough, a man approached Seonghwa, and the two exchanged a handshake and a couple of words. You recognised him fast enough - while he had not come to the shop nearly enough to be considered a regular, and judging from how heavily modded his MV Agusta Rush was it was clear that he preferred to do most, if not all repairs himself, Yeosang was a memorable figure. His hair, approaching shoulder length, and the long black and red leather jacket with cutouts that flowed behind him as he hit top speed made him stand out to you, and his endearing disposition and innate warmth as he discussed all matters within your comfort made him something of a friend. He waved to you, excited that you had decided to join the patrol, agreeing with Seonghwa that it was an honour to see you on the urban tracks. You bit your lower lip, wondering just how far word about you had travelled after your supposed passing, and whether this word would travel right back down to the south again after your impulsive appearance right here, among the Blue Birds.

“So you riding with us? Right?” Yeosang finally addressed you, his voice jolting you out of your musings.

“I suppose so,” after giving Seonghwa one final look and receiving a reassuring smile, you responded.

“Great, then, follow me.” As Yeosang spun on his heel and led you towards the warehouse, you let yourself wonder out loud.

“Were you all waiting for me or something?”

“Well, yes and no. We’ve heard stories, then Mars has really taken to you and well, that comes with a lot of getting to know you, and then Yunho shared a couple things-”

“What in the-”

“Don’t be too surprised. We keep our tabs on everyone. Just in case.” he chuckled and elaborated on the miniature dossier that had accumulated - he was not going to rat out the fact that it was mainly his leader not realising that he was discussing you at longer time periods than was customary for a standard biker and mechanic relationship.

“Guess I’m a bit rusty in that department.” you pondered the networks, the informers that had existed back in your town, and how sometimes you even had to ‘do some less than appealing kinds of convincing’ to get updates, but shook the image away as you entered the dimly lit warehouse.

“Let’s hope you aren’t when it comes to riding.” You stood back, letting Yeosang turn on another lamp, something probably found in a trash pile but still functional enough to be a source of illumination, only to reveal a breath-taking beauty.

“Now, of course it isn’t the Kawasaki,” Yeosang paused, patting the seat of the black and red motorcycle that you could sense was studying you, checking if you were strong enough to handle it, “but it is still quite impressive. Aprilia RSV4-”

“1100 Factory. Grunty engine, sweet chassis. Good engineering.”

“You can say that again. Here, give it a try.”

You stepped towards the breathing machine. The beast in slumber, awaiting a boost, a nudge awake and it was ready to roar and leave all those in this lot behind. It was a captivating system of mechanisms, all working in unison to create what was going to be a revival for you. A revival on the road. As you sat down on the bike, feeling its energy ooze through you and appreciating its almost youthful vigour, your mind traversed its maze-like avenues back to the Kawasaki. This was far from your precious. Far from who you had been. Far from the soul that you had lost back then. Gorgeous, without a doubt, an astounding piece of work that the streets would be grateful for gracing them, but that was how you had to treat it. As much as a part of you desired a renaissance, that same thrill, it was obviously unachievable. Nothing was the same, nor could be, including you. The place where the tattoo of the Black Pirates still decorated your skin ached with dull throbs as you leaned forward and tested your movements, your fluidity with the motorcycle. This was going to do; this had to do for that one last thrill before you could say goodbye to the dream of re-experience - the final nail in the coffin of a phantom that had you delusionally hoping for that sense of belonging and sense of being undefeatable to return to you. The Aprilia was the Aprilia, and you were you. The need for speed, the desire to rule the roads and exist in discord and chaos had died with the Kawasaki Ninja H2R, and the you now was searching for peace. The peace that you could read in Seonghwa’s eyes. The peace that he was offering in the form of unconditional support, in the form of pieces of his own soul to ignite the one you were patiently cultivating in your hollow chest. To let the blaze warm you, nurture the affection you yearned for, and let you breathe again. You gripped the handles of the bike, and turned on the ignition, casting a permission-seeking side glance to Yeosang, who merely nodded. As it rolled out of position and you flipped the foot that anchored it in balance, and let yourself be regarded by Seonghwa and his fellow bikers, the revelation finally came, that this was the new life that you had hoped for. The life that you had wanted to experience, not a reworking, but a clean slate. A new home that you hoped to discover in Night City.

Once everyone was in position, and Yeosang gave you a helmet that was fitted with a communication system that let the Blue Birds converse while on patrol, you followed Seonghwa out, having been given a designated position and role in the formation. It felt like the old times, but in reverse. Instead of organising havoc, the group was organising peace. Instead of planning heists, the group was hoping to stop crime that happened under the noses of those who purposefully disregarded it, focusing on new age delinquency that manifested itself as banal expression and creativity. The city was different now, it had to be. Suddenly, you were astounded and amazed by it, by the intricacies of every corner, the affection with which the citizens of the sector had decorated their storefronts and windows, even though if a government-arranged bust was to be organised, and the forces, nicknamed the Guardians were to march down these streets, these homes would be the first to be annihilated. Risking their own lives these marvellous people decided to spread joy and share colour. There was hope in Night City, there was hope in this district where the desire to live and thrive could not be put out.

Blue, purple, magenta, pink, orange, yellow, red, green, purest white and inkiest black, every shade and every saturation was jumping out at you even through the visor. You felt at ease, one with your surroundings as Seonghwa’s soothing voice issued the final command before the group were to split, leaving you, Seonghwa and Yeosang alone and zooming down the central street, empty from the lack of business after a particularly nasty raid. You noted remnants of shattered glass and a charcoal black storefront, one of the downsides of living in an area where law was more questionable than local dealings. But even then, you felt more alive than before.

“How are you feeling, Red?” a nickname thought of on the spot for ease of callouts thanks to the accents on the Aprilia.

“Good, Mars.”

“Good?” Yeosang echoed, and you could swear you heard an amused giggle from his mic.

“Very good, Greece,” you would never not be amused with the choice of name for your friend, the word ‘sculpture’, to highlight his heavenly visuals, had apparently been deemed too long to work.

Seonghwa could hear the joy in your voice, stronger than he had ever experienced it before, even when you joked around with him or revealed to him a particularly high quality part that Jongho had produced by some unmentionable connections. Previously, there had been barriers that you had accumulated with each season of your new existence, hardened by your trials and tribulations as a person who technically was not supposed to exist. Less talk, more business. Less emotion, more control over your behaviour, your being in the effort of maintaining an image of strength, much like he had done when he had first met you.

When Seonghwa had first laid eyes on you, you seemed to be the closest thing there was to a human version of ice. You appeared to be dismissive and disinterested in him, in what he could bring, and that was vexing. He, as Mars of the Blue Bird gang, had gotten used to have the room freeze as he walked in, only to combust into hot flames an instant after, but definitely not come face to face with someone who was sombre, and with their lack of a reaction made Seonghwa feel as though, in reality, he was not that important. He had made a promise to himself after finding out about the Kawasaki rider of the Black Pirates, that if there was anyone he would listen to and learn from, it would be them. From the technique to the daredevil spirit, that was the kind of rider he had always wanted to be. At the same time, as days turned to weeks turned to months, and the image of you and the rider became one in his mind, Seonghwa came to understand that truly, the rider was an illusion. A fantasy that he had built in his mind that could not compare to the wise woman that had transformed his Hayabusa, and his own heart. He wanted to learn you, and learn anything else with you. And to hear the spark within you, to feel your passion for finding yourself begin to return to you was the final sign that he needed to fully comprehend what he had been searching for. For that smile to never leave your face, for him to bring you food just because, for you to be side by side in this race against harsh reality, fighting the odds and making it through to a land where there was true light, away from the land of neon farce.

As you sped down the neverending roads, checking each turn and alleyway for activity, an odd trepidation crept into your chest, and fluttered like a moth fighting for its spot on a bulb. The same feeling as when you had been out with your so-called crew, checking the outskirts of your hometown that fateful night. Your inner alarm rolled out of a restless sleep, and began to clang against your brain, once, twice more and more until it became unbearable and you cried out for the group to stop. The unexpected call startled the duo, and they barely had time to process the action as the three of you instinctively skid to a halt, leaving hot trailmarks on the road. A hum. An unsettling hum that came before a certain ruin spread across your surroundings, and you took off your helmet to tune into it in an attempt to decipher anything at all. Seonghwa and Yeosang followed suit, perplexed, contemplating you as you darted from one side to the other turning your head and getting a grasp of what could be the source of the thrum. A revving. A sickening revving in the far distance, picked up by you as you whispered to your team.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Yeosang asked back, running a hand through his hair.

“The hum.”

“Hum?”

“Where are we right now?”

“Southernmost district, kind of outside of Night City, but still our area.” Seonghwa responded promptly, alerted by your concern.

“We need to leave.”

“But the patrol-” Yeosang tried to argue, but you cut him off.

“Now. We need to leave now.”

“Why?”

The engines became even louder, and if you were not going to move now, you would never move again.

“Surveillance Point South, Guardians Helmets on, MOVE!” you commanded, disregarding any hint of formality as you shoved the helmet back onto your head and twisted the bike to go back. The men followed suit, and in good time, as in one of your mirrors, you saw the first flash of white appear from around the corner.

“GO!”

Bless technology, bless the engineers who crafted these magnificent motorcycles; you were praying and praising every person who had ever contributed to the creation of these beauties, these roaring urban animals as you accelerated to top speed in seconds and swerved down a random street, one that you had no clue where it led to. Calming yourself to the level where you were able to ask a question, you hurriedly shouted into the mic:

“Mars!”

“Turn right at the end, Greece flanks on the left.”

“Gotcha chief.”

“Update on tail?” You continued as the initial wave of automatic movements subsided, and in came the need for fast, adaptive strategy. You were not about to make the same mistakes again. This could not happen. You had to trust yourself, trust Seonghwa and Yeosang. They should not suffer the same way you had done. Ever.

“Five Guardians. Gear - standard. They were not expecting us.” Yeosang communicated back, pressing himself into the motorcycle as the three of you sped down the street only to burst into another and swerve to the appointed direction.

“Well that’s a plus,” you huffed and accelerated more after completing the dangerously sharp turn. The Guardians were quick to repeat the motion, and were aggressively catching up to your trio.

“There’s a highway under construction, we can lose them there.” Seonghwa offered, clearly disturbed by the closeness of the forces, practically breathing down his neck.

“How far?”

“How fast can you go?”

“Lead.” a quick ‘yes’ in agreement, and Seonghwa issued an order:

“Greece, split on the fork and find Crow. If you get a tail then spiral the shit out of them.”

“Aye.”

“Good luck.” With one last wish, serving as a hopefully temporary farewell, Yeosang rolled away his own response blending into static as the connection grew weaker, only to fully break:

“Good lu-”

And just like that, it was you, Seonghwa, and four remaining Guardians, who evidently had decided that Yeosang was not their main target, leaving only one to tail him. You cursed under your breath, and clearly the mic was a lot more sensitive than you had initially expected, because as soon as the utterance left your mouth Seonghwa’s voice reverberated against your eardrums.

“Just a bit more, okay? Trust me we’ll get there-”

A gunshot stops the man mid-sentence, and you blindly followed him as he countersteered to make another sharp turn into a much more narrow street, forcing the group of four to slow down considerably and giving you an extra few valuable seconds.

“Are guns part of standard gear?” Shocked by the similarity between the gang you had been part of and your present followers, you managed to ask.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Well isn’t this a fun time.”

“Glad you are enjoying it. Turn in five then turn left.”

Before you knew it, you were entering the meandering manoeuvre from street to alley to a series of pedestrian passageways, fully expecting Seonghwa to still be by your side, but as you entered another road, zooming ahead, you took note that your partner was nowhere to be seen, along with another two Guardians. The ones behind you, thanks to the maze of stairs and tight spots down the path he had directed you through, the Guardians were trailing behind, the distance having grown to a more secure one, at least until you felt the bike, which you were not totally used to, hit a pothole on the road and start to wobble, forcing you to overreact - counterintuitive to any professional behaviour. Your yelps finally made Seonghwa return through the speakers asking as to what exactly happened. To the best of your ability you choked out the cause of your surprise, while loosening your grip and regaining at least some control by slowly rolling off the throttle.

“I leave you for one second and that happens?”

“Last time I was alone and being chased I-”

“Did not have me, to your left-” As you had balanced yourself out and returned to breaking any speed limit imaginable, you noted the familiar black and orange Hayabusa merge into the lane to your left, followed by one Guardian.

“Where is their friend?”

“Took an arrow to the knee,” out of the corner of your visor’s allowable view, you saw Seonghwa accelerate until he was a little in the front and he waved what could only be a particularly menacing pistol.

“That is one hell of a bow.” You pondered when and where he could have produced a gun from, and finally realised why most of the time he kept his jacket zipped up unless he was off vigilante duty.

As you approached the winding highways-to-be, you swore you were barely breathing. With only three Guardians remaining on your tail it should be easier, an escape should feel closer, but you could not settle into any form of focus, instead only speeding towards an oblivion. Another one, your final one. The fear that you had been living with, the repetition that you had wrongfully longed for, was it about to happen? You fell quiet as you saw the road curve higher and higher to another level, and followed its flow. Seonghwa let you flow forwards, turning back to return the gunfire that the white-clad spawns of the so-called law restarted, missing one by a few centimetres, but in this way forcing them to enter the same state from which you recovered. Luckily, they did not have as reflexive of a control over the vehicle, and toppled to veer and hit one of the borders, denting it and giving up the chase. Two to go.

Entranced by the openness of the location, you raised your head to find a night sky, clearer than the one you were used to back in Night City. It was similar to the countryside around your hometown, how the stars came around to glint and help you recollect your thoughts by emphasising that everything on this earth, compared to the infinite expanse of the universe, was small enough to brush off. It had always made you feel briefly light, relieved, free. How you wished you could fly-

“Ready to fly?”

“Literally?” you cried out, returning back to the matter at hand.

“I sure hope you remember how to recover from a high jump on a bike because that is our only chance.”

“What the-”

“Three.”

“Two.

“One.”

“May the suspension system be ever in our favour,” you muttered, embracing the oncoming drop as you avoided the cones that marked the end of the construction zone and led into a drop onto the highway below.

Your mind cleared, and you focused on the head level balance point in front of you, which just so happened to be the straight line of the horizon. Your body moved back to ease the weight on the front end, and as you saw the drop come into view, raised yourself up on the foot pegs and pushed with all your might, bending your legs into the motion as you felt the suspension respond to you and compress before rising again. Instantaneously, you blipped the throttle, giving the Aprilia that final burst, propelling you and lifting you right when the front wheel hit the jumping point you had marked out. Keeping your head up, you let yourself feel the arc that you made together with the bike, eagerly watched your surroundings blur as you continued your calculated fall, and giggled as you heard Seonghwa let out a loud proclamation of “awesome!” as you landed the jump and remained fully in control of the temperamental steed.

The Guardians had stopped themselves before the leap, clearly not having the borderline death-seeking move programmed into their ridiculous training schemes, nor into their own obedient, law-abiding cells. With the southernmost district, and as such, the Guardian patrol point long behind you, it was now a matter of finding a place to slow down and figure out a safe way home. You laughed airily as the adrenaline egged you on, making you feel like you could take on the entire world, your gang of traitors and snakes, and the masked tyrants that had been chasing you and all that you considered valuable in your new chapter. You survived. Finally, you survived.

When the empty highway hinted at an exit on the other side, in unspoken agreement the two of you hopped the inexistent border between lanes and swerved into the turn, re-entering the city from a different angle, fully avoiding the southern district. As neon began to occupy your vision once more, the lines of blue, purple, magenta starting to line the streets of your home, you let out a sigh of relief, coming down from the rush of a good chase. As soon as the two of you ensured that there was no hint of Guardians in your vicinity, Seonghwa signalled for you to slow down and stop in a secluded square that was located between the outstretched segments of an abandoned residential block, the doors taped shut with signs proclaiming ‘demolition’ plastered over fading graffiti.

Hopping off his bike and leaving the helmet and gloves on the seat, he rushed to help you out, the exhaustion from diving headfirst into something that had not been in your active arsenal for a while. Wobbly legs, dizziness and an urge to listen to gravity for once nearly had you stumbling off the bike and onto the cracked pavement, if not for the strong arms, stabilising you by positioning themselves at your waist, and bringing you flush against Seonghwa’s toned body. Through the haze of a numbing fatigue, you could finally make out the slightest tang of gun smoke, blending with an aroma of a sweet perfume, pronounced as he had burned up from the prolonged pressure and thrill. Smoke and vanilla. And you were alive to take it all in. You raised your arms, searching for him, trying to feel out an anchor in the renaissance, clamber out of the ashes that were still coating you in a weight of a past that you had now shed. Fingers flittering across the black tank top, left exposed as he had unzipped the jacket, travelled around his sides to find his lower back and hook themselves together. You let yourself be consumed by the feeling of safety, the feeling of having overcome yourself and finding someone, the one person who was ready to pick you up again. Your body shook as a sob that you were unknowingly holding back flew from your now light heart and into the omniscient night, but all you could feel was warmth. A reliable embrace that was going nowhere, a man who knew who you were, who you had been, and let you decide for yourself who you wanted to become-

“Mars-” you mumbled, pressing your face into Seonghwa in an attempt to let the fabric swallow your emotion.

“-Seonghwa.”

“Huh?” you wanted to look at him, at his dark eyes that held the sky, the universe within them, but the soothing circles that he was drawing on your back as he began to rock gently while keeping you in his arms made you remain in the same position, right against him. With him.

“Seonghwa. Hwa. Whatever nickname you think of but… just. Seonghwa, Y/N. Call me Seonghwa.” you chuckled through the tears that started to decorate your cheeks, earning a confused hum from the biker.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Cheeky.”

“At least we are not threatening each other with grievous bodily harm anymore.” you tried to squeeze him in a way to emphasise your joke, but earned a surprised pained yelp from the man, followed by a pursing of the lips as you darted to face him.

“Seonghwa?” it was obvious that the new address made him soften considerably, but your worry did not subside. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing really, regular st-”

“Where, Seonghwa, where?” you used his own name against him, forgetting your own overwhelmed state and turning your attention to him.

He was entranced by the way your eyes glistened in the darkness, how the tears that stained your cheeks were only adding to your image. Nothing would make him look differently at you. Nothing ever. And if he had to race against time itself to be able to hold onto you like this, he would do it. He would fight all of the Guardians and Black Pirates combined if it meant that you could smile. You needed to smile. He tried to ease the concern, but the wound that he had acquired during the chase was becoming nearly unbearable. Instead of fighting you, he tilted his head to his left and lifted his arm while keeping the other on your waist. Getting the hint, you flipped the bottom of the cropped jacket and gasped as you saw torn material, reddened, irritated skin, and a mixture of coagulated and still-trickling blood concentrated around where what could only be a bullet grazed Seonghwa’s stunning, tanned skin.

“What the- and you are just here? Standing? You need treatment, stat!” admonishing his self-disregard, you leaned to inspect the wound more closely, only to have Seonghwa attempt to flip the jacket back and dig his fingers into your side.

“I am fine, I swear-”

“Do you know anyone who can fix this?” not quite in the know of any medical terms, you resorted to treating the wound as though it was a damaged component, except a lot more distressing, and obviously causing a lot more lateral harm than any scratch or even piercing tear could to cold metal.

“...Not really, no,” after a long pause, he responded. Lowering his arm, Seonghwa returned to his previous hold, except this time, moving until his face was only centimetres away from yours.

“Well then, you know me, I have a first aid kit at my cave.” your voice quivered as you at the man before you. You could tell, he was new too, also reborn from the chaos. Neither of you could predict, but it was obvious that now, that light that you had been chasing was within reach.

“So you can fix bikes and people?”

“Bikes, yes. People? Not really. But I would like for you to see another day please.

“It really isn’t that bad.”

“Then why are you in pain?”

“Because I have been staring at your lips for the past minute and still have not kissed you.”

You blinked once, twice as whatever words were in your throat remained there and fell right back down to be set on fire by what you could only describe as the blowing of multiple fuses. You were not quite sure when the two of you managed to lean so impossibly close to one another, but your arms were fully relaxed, having succumbed to the sensation of his hands dancing across your hips testing the waters, and your vision was occupied by Seonghwa, and Seonghwa alone. His gaze, once again, trailed down from your eyes down to your lips, slow, confident alluring. Ignoring whatever pain he was experiencing, dulling it with a different, more tantalising ache. With your breathing growing more shallow by the second, you were not sure what to expect of Seonghwa in this instant; perhaps more accurately, you were terrified of how this would change your new life. He was taking his time as though he was reading a book, trying to decipher what you were feeling, and while he was more than ready to lean in an destroy what was left of the gap between you, your swift hands that wiped what remained of the moisture on your cheeks and a playful smirk on your lips forced him into a childish pout.

“And you won’t, unless you let me patch you up.”

“And I can kiss you after?”

“...Deal.” to hell with it all, you continued soundlessly.

As rapidly as the moment had developed, it ceased to persist, with Seonghwa detangling himself from you and telling you to grab your helmet while pressing a couple of buttons that were concealed on his wristwatch.

“What about the bike?”

“Yeo will sort out the bike. I just pinged him with the coordinates.”

“You have a spy watch?” amazed, you exclaimed.

“Nifty, huh? Blue Bird exclusive.”

“I need to speak to the engineers in your circle, I need to absorb some skills from them.”

“I can see you’ll be speaking to Yeo more and more soon, then. He is quite the techy guy.”

As you were about to hop onto the bike, you thought once more about the injury, and tapped the already seated Seonghwa on the shoulder. Flipping open his visor, the man moved his chin forward, prompting you to go on.

“Scooch back.”

“But I can-”

“No buts. You are injured, and this is a hazard,” receiving a groan in response, you refused to pause, “besides, I can’t exactly hold on to you now, can I?”

That seemed to do the trick as the previously proud, arrogant man obeyed your command and slid away from the handlebar, but as soon as you were in position, revealed that potentially, it was not you winning here as he relished in the opportunity to embrace you for the entire trip back to OC, occasionally distracting you by letting his hands roam your torso, leaving you dangerously close to pulling over. But you had enough experience of being stoic, and Seonghwa still had much to learn about you, so you kept a steady speed, and greeted the luminescence of your neighbourhood with a relaxed rumble of the Hayabusa.

As you turned on the lights to your studio apartment and the two of you took off your shoes, you sped away to find the green case of health and all things that you were technically not supposed to have in your possession but did anyways. Funnily enough, Seonghwa’s comment had not been too far from the truth; back when you had been in the Black Pirates, a mechanic was fully expected to patch the customers up, as well as the bike, considering that both were normally against the law and had to remain undercover. Even when in certain districts the gang did bribe their way up to have a hand in decision-making, thus making it possible for the members to receive regular treatment, many had gotten used to the quick and easy drive-by healings, and would always choose to trust the person who gave life to their motorcycles over even the most qualified, certified doctor. Such was the rhythm that you had fallen into, the one that transitioned into the you in Night City through a library of skills and odd habits - like keeping the first aid kit right below the sink, the logic being that one could grab the kit, wash their hands and be ready for war, equipped with antiseptic and a plethora of improvisation techniques made up on the spot.

With Seonghwa settled on one of the foldable chairs that you kept to the side for when you wanted to sit while eating instead of leaning over the kitchen counter, you took the other, placed it right in front of the tired man and got to work. Carefully guiding his arms out of the leather jacket, you were left with a far too attractive biker, clad in only a black tank top and the ridiculously expensive chains, and the leather trousers that tightened around his legs as he wriggled a little and took a more comfortable position to sit. The earring with the feather right at the end still dangled in his ear, and his hair, ruffled but retaining some shape thanks to what you thought to be humble use of a styling gel. You needed to avoid his eyes at all costs, the burning eyes that were trained on you, and only you. It did not take an expert to guess what Seonghwa was replaying in his mind the entire time that you were around him. As you lifted the tank top and inspected what was now a dried up mass over a graze, you sighed with relief.

“Good news.”

“Good?” Seonghwa asked back, suspiciously out of breath.

“Yeah. Now, I can’t check for internal bleeding, but outwardly, this is easy enough. Seems that you got really lucky. Very. Over the top kind of lucky actually. Can’t say the same for the jacket though, but at least you are not a wine barrel.”

“Charming.”

“I’ll just clean the thing and put a big bandage on it so that it won’t get infected. I fear that most of the pain is from these old injuries though…” you absent-mindedly traced some of the hematomas, which, judging by their colouration, were well on their way to dissolving into a smoothness, with your fingertips, making the man tense up. He turned his head towards you, glancing back and forth as you inspected the collage of injuries that he had collected on his body.

“We’re fighters though, aren’t we.”

“Fighters need holidays too.”

“Right.”

“You need to park yourself in a garage and give your engine a nice break…” you joked, more to yourself as you turned to bring the green case to your lap for easier searching, keeping one hand in place to hold the cotton top up, until the finger grew tired, “hey could you be a darling and hold your own shirt for me? Cheers.”

Seonghwa jumped into action, enjoying the soft speech, and replaced your hand with his, the digits ever so slightly brushing against one another as he moved to hold onto the material.

“You are in luck.”

“Is that so? Even more than over the top?” ignoring his interjection, you continued:

“Uh-huh. I have hydrocolloid bandages left. This one’s actually barely noticeable, but works like a charm with weeping wounds so, get your flesh over here and you’ll be patched up in no time.” turning, he repositioned himself to allow you to clean the cut, removing some of the attached fabric that had dried with the first droplets, and leaving the redness exposed to the disinfectants, and to the patch. In no time at all, your work was done. Satisfied, you grabbed a tissue out of the packet that was sitting in the kit and cleaned the ointment and adhesive that stuck to you.

“I’m afraid I can’t help with the clothes though. Not my area of expertise.”

“You did more than enough, Y/N. And all this after racing through and out of Night City from five Guardians on a totally new bike.”

“I am a woman of many talents.”

“That’s true…” that honey-sweet, deep voice, slowing into a sultry beckoning as Seonghwa’s hand moved to rest on your knee. A man on a mission after all. You chuckled and snapped the first aid kit shut, easily sauntering from his approaches and enjoying every minute.

“You want hot chocolate?” you asked over your shoulder as you stashed the case back under the sink and shut the cupboard. Nothing was stopping you from being a good host to a very good person. Even though it was rather apparent that Seonghwa was eyeing something else on the menu, the sound of a sweet treat was rather appealing. You were right about him faking drinking coffee after all.

“Yes please.”

As you moved about the kitchen, fetching the cylindrical jar of chocolate powder and getting the coffee machine started for your own beverage of choice, Seonghwa moved to reposition the chairs closer to a table that bore the appearance of an ironing board squashed against the wall until he pulled it down and pushed the two legs at the free end out. Patiently, he admired your studio apartment, your corner of the city that was situated right above the shop. The walls were bare, only decorated with old holes from nails and with the odd scratch here and there. Minimal furniture, with the large dresser probably being donated to you by Yunho. The neatly made bed which judging by the headboard and armrests was also a small sofa, located right beside the window that was covered by wooden blinds roughly painted an off-white, was probably the newest addition to the metres of this room. Undoubtedly, the piece of furniture was acquired after you had moved here, after you had made your bosses certain that you were here to stay. And Seonghwa was going to make sure of it. Night City was now to be your new home, and when you tapped the table to alert him of the hot beverage that you had prepared, now ready and billowing steam out of the mug right in front of him, he revered how beautiful you looked, surrounded by the mechanic shop, by the streets of the district, by the city that he had despised for so long but the one that had helped him find you through mysterious serendipity.

"Thank you." he took a cautious sip, sighing in elation.

"No problem. I'll pretend that chocolate helps with internal bruising and call myself a doctor." You commented while settling beside the vigilante, making him smile.

“How’d you guess I would not want coffee?” you glanced over at your companion while taking a tentative sip once the initial temperature shock had subsided.

“You never order it.”

“But I never-”

“I think we have spent enough time together to know the basics, right?” A bolder swig, and you could feel the caffeine begin to hit your system like a nitro boost.

“Well I seem to be discovering more and more things about you every second, Y/N.”

“And how are you finding it?” you took the quietness as a chance to test him. It was barely a test, but nevertheless, too important to dismiss. The small questions, ones said in passing and ones to be forgotten were almost always the ones that were to be the most important.

“I want to learn more and more, since I simply cannot get enough.”

Momentarily bashful, you looked at the floor and thought of the garage beneath your feet. The place where you had initially determined that this same man who was now unbelievably bold in his expression of his feelings for you was to be your sworn enemy. How times changed, for the better. Regardless of the twists and turns, the ups and downs, even in the deepest night there was a light to find, and a light that was meant to be yours. This new life was your light, and Seonghwa wanted to be part of it. You grinned at the thought, and finally met Seonghwa’s smouldering gaze, fuelled by care, by determination, by the vision of a future.

“You know, I think I thought of a nickname for you, Seonghwa.”

“Oh?” he set down his mug, mirroring you.

“Yeah. I think I’ll call you mine.” you stood up, knowingly ambling to the light switch, listening to the biker following suit.

“Watch out, I might just marry you on the spot if you keep that up.”

“Well, I am not your bride but you may kiss me.”

“Y/N, you are too addictive, and will make me lose my mind.”

“Well then, are you mine?”

“In every lifetime I am yours.”

Enveloped in a new night, illuminated only by the colours that seeped through the half open blinds you ceased to think and rationalise, giving yourself up to instinct as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, twisting you from the wall, coaxing you closer to him, towards his warmth, his heart right there for you to take. It was easy to oblige and you pinched the material of his tank top, prompting him to step even closer, sure that he was practically beaming into the kiss as he nudged himself forward, lifting your head up just a little to prolong the contact. It was as though he was certain that if you were to break apart from one another, you would disappear. He wanted more, needed more. Digits tracing abstract shapes on your back, running through your hair, Seonghwa wanted to remember every detail. Just as he had said, he wanted to learn every part of you.

Lost in paradise, the kiss was electric. A hand that found itself toying with his chains, and proceeding to snake up the back of his neck to tug on his hair just enough to make him shakily exhale made Seonghwa switch his gears. A previous tentativeness, a tender exploration turned into an urgency as his tongue flicked against your lower lip begging for entrance, which you were more than eager to give. You sighed into the passionate call for more that left you breathless. And yet, in these seconds turned into an unprecedented timelessness, if you had to give up every life-saving molecule for even a fraction of nearly impossible unity, you would do it in a heartbeat. The sensation was as though you had finally woken up from a deep slumber, dragged from the somnolent abyss, and every vibration in the air was resonating with you, resonating with Seonghwa.

You felt drunk, dizzy as you guided Seonghwa to the bed, having very quickly memorised the layout of your tiny apartment to the point where you could move around even if there was not a single source of light. In a passionate blur your top was left by the chairs, while your trousers found their place right in front of the bed, together with Seonghwa’s tank top. With every flame that crossed between you, you laid yourself bare to one another, honest and open, and the vulnerability, intimacy you let yourself indulge in marked another beginning. As your nude bodies laid down onto the dark grey sheets, the both of you fervent for more but aware of the importance of honouring every step, Seonghwa suggested, feeling his side remind him of his injury:

“I think you’re going to have to take the lead here, Y/N, I’m a little bruised up.”

“Of course,” you leaned in for another kiss, smiling at the sweetness, “You ready?”

“More than.”

Seonghwa leaned against the pillows and headboard, devoured by lust as you moved further and further down until you reached his exposed member, leaking precum, hard, pleading for you to give it at least some attention. Testing the waters, you languidly rubbed the tip with your thumb in circles coating it in the translucent liquid and making Seonghwa breathe as though there was not enough oxygen. One glance back and you were in awe of the beauty before you. Eyes shut, reddened lips slightly parted, head tilted back as if he was caught in a divine act. The light from the street outside made him look all the more ethereal, and his skin, now an indescribably stunning collage of hues that had crept through the blinds, was a masterpiece that you wanted to honour with your love. As your teasing progressed into a gentle pumping, first of the tip and then with your hand sliding down the entire length, only to stop and give extra care to the base of the member, a low groan reached you - a melody that only encouraged you. Heat pooled to your core as you continued to elicit a string of indecipherable mumbles, a deep moan, and the most magnificent expressions from the man who had never thought you would even cross paths with again. How foolish you had been, masking Seonghwa’s stunning presence, response to your every action, and his eagerness to please you by whispering praises for how good you were making him feel, how amazing you looked and were, and how he was so grateful. Your prior ignorance was almost impossible to even consider now, as you let spit drip down from your mouth onto his dick, adding more lubrication and letting you increase the speed. The wanton sounds of your hand pumping Seonghwa’s throbbing cock, blended with the breaths turning shallow, any moan coming out airy, barely there, were filling you with your own desire, and your free hand quickly moved between your legs, fingers gliding along the folds, finding them to be slick, soaking, needy. You began to run your digits over your now wet clit, rolling over the nub painfully slow in a weak attempt to prevent yourself from cumming too soon, but what used to be a hint of a high only accelerated to a knot at the bottom of your stomach, pulsating and begging for fullness. With how Seonghwa’s hips began to buck up, oblivious to the bruises, the wounds that ghosted and adorned his body, you needed him.

“Hwa…”

“Mmh- yes?”

“May I… ride you?” Through phrases broken up by your choice to quicken the pace of your hand, abusing your clit until a trembling sensation spread over your legs in anticipation of an orgasm, you voiced your desire.

“Please- Y/N I- yes-” equally as shattered, Seonghwa was barely able to respond, moaning as you gave him a chance to recover ever so slightly, letting his member spring free, but more desperate than before for stimulation.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Back pocket, trousers, wallet.” he sighed, pointing at the discarded article at the foot of the bed.

“How’d you even get it in this Sector?” you asked, fishing the item out of his wallet, tearing the packaging and crawling back to unroll it.

“Con… tra… band,” he enunciated through your swift actions, biting his lower lip as he felt your heat press against him, your hand guiding the cock between your folds as you rocked back and forth.

“Vigilantes indeed. Protecting in all kinds of ways.”

“Are you kidding me?” Seonghwa groaned at the sorry attempt of a joke, his mind conflicted between the humour and the unbearable closeness of your pussy, lined up against his tip.

“I’m not the one smuggling condoms, though I have nothing to say but thank you, darling.”

Lowering yourself onto the member, bit by bit until he bottomed out inside you, you leaned forward, consumed by the euphoric feeling. Seonghwa took this as a chance to caress the side of your face, draw a line against your jaw and lead you towards him with soft fingers under your chin. Placing one kiss, another on your lips, and peppering your cheeks and nose with loving pecks, he encouraged you. He wanted to ensure that you felt loved, and only loved. When you began to move, hands finding the headboard for better balance and as a security measure so that you would not hurt Seonghwa, his gaze stayed on your face, bearing witness to the single most gorgeous view of his mortality.

He gave himself up to you, something that he would have never imagined, but something that felt so right that he was terrified of thinking how his life would be had he never met you. Seonghwa let you control the pace, and when your walls tightened around his dick with your climax fast-approaching, did nothing to stop you, deny you of the ecstasy, much to his own fortune, for the cries of his name as you reached your high and rode it out, leading him to his own heavenly demise were now permanently etched into his brain. Never before did anything of his sound so captivating. Never before did he think that he could see a light in this dark city, in his dark path. But there she was, an angel in his arms, falling forwards, a barely noticeable shake still over taking her as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your lustful fever accentuated by the coolness of the metal necklaces. Seonghwa kissed your cheek once again, then your forehead and the crown of your head, thanking you, adoring you, and as the minutes ticked past, finding his footing in the post-coital bliss, and nudging for you to clean up with him, so the oasis you had created in your four walls could last longer, and you could drift into the sunniest dreams in each other’s embrace.

As you laid in Seonghwa’s arms, flushed from the shower and changed into an oversized t-shirt, his leg lazily thrown over yours and breath tickling your exposed skin, you felt even more alive. As he pulled you closer to him, and with the hand that was fully on the other side of you reached out to rest his palm on the back of yours, and let your fingers intertwine, you let yourself fall into a serenity that you had never known, and listened to his heartbeat through the tee you had given him, a rhythm that you never wanted to forget, a soul that helped yours truly come back from a place of no return. Seonghwa traced the tattoos on your skin, whispering about their marvel, their story, pointing out his favourites, the details that put every piece together into one flowing design. He repeated, again and again, his adoration for you, kissing your earlobe only to say it once more, accompanied by his favourite sound: the syllables that made up your name. In rare moments like this, everything felt easy, within reach. In this time and space that existed after a revival, a self-discovery and a promise of a new beginning, you were ready to take the scenic route.

“Hwa, could you pass me the C-spanner?”

“Ah, the mechanic’s scythe, sure thing.” you rolled your eyes and grinned, accepting the tool from Seonghwa’s outstretched hand. You were working on a swanky new Yamaha that had been added to the general Blue Bird collection after a certain Aprilia had been turned into scraps in the name of security. Not that you knew anything though - after all that was not you, and you did not exist at all in the databases of the Guardians, having flown under the radar thanks to some quick camera wipes, and security checks around Night City. Your new beginning was greeting you with open arms.

As you adjusted the pre-load on the rear shock absorbers, Seonghwa noticed something that reminded him of cling film peeking out from under your sleeve and letting his curiosity get the better of him, inched towards you, around the bike and giving you barely a second to register his intentions, poked at the plastic.

“What’s that, love?”

“A little upgrade.” you smiled to yourself and continued to make adjustments to the energetic beast.

“A tattoo?” he inquired, taking the c-spanner from your hand and laying it down on the ground. You spun on your old stool to face him.

“Mhm…”

“Show me?”

“I don’t know… probably won’t be clear enough through the film and I don’t want to ruin it so…”

“C’mon Y/N, weren’t you gushing about it to me just yesterday? How Seonghwa would adore it and-”

“Don’t sell me out, bossman.” you retorted, faking a glare at Yunho who was in the depths of a discussion about component orders with Jongho and evidently, was getting more and more bored.

“And focus on the papers, Yunho.” the latter rapid-fired after you, making Yunho groan and shift his attention away.

“So?” Seonghwa nudged your foot with his, shoving his hands in his pockets. Clearly, whatever tailor he knew in this city was a magic person, because even months after the turning point in your identity, a switch in time that let you open your eyes to a beautiful new world, the beloved biker pseudo-uniform in black and orange hues was pristine, seamless, bearing no signs of any gunshots, nor of any tears nor grazes.

You stood up, and cautiously rolled up your sleeve to reveal a transparent bandage that covered your fresh ink. Another restart, another call for a new step in the form of a single blue feather, with a stunning gradient and black detailing. As Seonghwa peered at the design, open-mouthed and silent before nearly squeezing the air out of you as he hugged you as tightly as he possibly could and spun you around, you blinked away the last of your doubts that had been stuck to you from before the fateful arrival to Night City. In the most unexpected places, surrounded by the most unexpected people, time was finally on your side, and let you slowly but surely take steps towards the you that you were happy being. The you that was loved and could love. The you that turned a fresh new leaf, and was more alive than ever.

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