#bring out the illegal engine

[lizablackthorn]

what ferrari does to men

[fastianini]

i truly think i could never be a sports team mechanic or engineer or principal because if my team did as bad as honda or yamaha do rn i‘d bring out the illegal shit so fucking fast

[hoshifighting]

Racer!Reader x Racer!Mingyu 一 Rivals to Lovers

Synospsis: Racer!Mingyu, the new kid, is determined to beat you in the college underground race. Does he have the guts to defeat you, his senior, the reigning queen of the racing scene? Before the race starts, a photo of your boyfriend cheating on you is spread to the students. When you look up from your phone, there's Mingyu with his piercing eyes. [...]

“Hmm, all upset, just the way I wanted,” Mingyu teased, leaning against the doorframe.

WC: 8k

Warnings: Cheating, illegal racing, rumors, smut, angst, penetrative sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), squirt, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, body fluids (cum), kinda of rage make out?, chocking, spanking, dirty talk, sex pic and etc.

Mingyu. A name that had once been just a murmur in the shadows of the racing world is now on everyone's lips. This new kid, this prodigy, decided to go against the grain, to take on the best and make a name for himself. 

And somehow, you're the one he's set his sights on. The competition is obvious, like the electricity in the air before a storm, and the entire college is buzzed with bets. It's impossible to ignore the excitement at the thought of the race tonight. It's been too long since you've felt this alive.

The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline is already in your nose, a scent that brings back a flood of memories. The first time you felt the wind rush past you on two wheels, the rush of adrenaline when you crossed the finish line ahead of the pack. 

The races had been your escape, your way to prove to the world that you were more than just another face in the crowd. 

And now, as you lace up your boots and slip into your worn-in leather jacket, you know that this race will be different. It's not just about the thrill anymore. It's about pride, about maintaining your title, about showing Mingyu that he's bitten off more than he can chew.

The stakes are higher than ever before. You can feel it in the way Mark's eyes darken every time he looks at you, in the way he clenches his fists when Mingyu's name is mentioned.

As you swing your leg over your bike and rev the engine, you push those thoughts aside. Tonight, there's only one thing that matters: the race, the roar of the engines, and the taste of victory.

Mingyu's eyes sparkle inside his helmet, the gleaming visor reflecting the neon lights of the college parking lot that's been transformed into a makeshift race track. He's young, fearless, and he's got something to prove. 

You've watched him from afar, studied his technique, his daring moves that have earned him the title of 'the rookie to watch'. He's good, really good, but he's never raced against someone like you. You're the old war-horse in this game, a veteran who's seen it all and done it all. 

And now, the moment has arrived.

The girl in the quadriculed flag raises it high, her arm muscles taut with excitement. You and Mingyu lock eyes for a brief second, a silent promise of a fierce battle to come. And then, with a nod from her, you both speed off into the night. Your bike responds to your touch like a well-trained steed, the engine purring as you lean into the first turn.

But this is your turf, and you're not about to let some newcomer take your crown without a fight.

As the race extends, the wind whips through your hair, and the roar of the engines fills your ears. The world around you is a blur of lights and shadows, the only thing clear being the track ahead and the figure of Mingyu on your tail. 

You push harder, feeling the bike protest under your command, but she holds steady. You're the lead, with Mingyu playing the role of the eager suitor, eager to overtake. You can't help but smile beneath your helmet. It's been so long since someone's made you feel this alive. The thrill of the chase is intoxicating, and you're going to enjoy every second of it.

As you cross the finish line, you pull a dramatic wheelie, the tires screeching and smoking against the asphalt. You circle around, revving the engine, feeling the power beneath you, and as you come to a stop, Mingyu pulls up beside you. 

You both remove your helmets, and the chilly night air kisses your sweat-drenched skin. His eyes are on you, focused and intense, drinking in the sight of you. Your hair is a wild mess around your face, the wind from the race playing with it like it's alive.

You swing your leg over the bike, the leather of your pants hugging your thighs tightly. You stand there, arms crossed over your chest, looking at him. He's tall, with a muscular build that's clear even through his bulky racing gear. His face is a mask of determination, and there's something about the way he carries himself that makes you want to knock him down a peg.

"So, what's your name, kid?" you ask, your voice carrying over the din of the engines.

Mingyu's face cracks into a smirk, and he extends his hand towards you. "Mingyu. Kim Mingyu," he says, his voice deep and sure. But you don't take the bait. You keep your arms crossed, your eyes locked on his.

His smirk falters a little when you ignore his outstretched hand, and he slowly lowers it. 

The crowd around you goes quiet, watching this silent exchange like it's a scene from a movie. They know the history, the tension, and the unspoken challenge that's just been laid down.

"Well, you must know me," you say, the leather jacket creaks as you tighten your grip. 

"I know of you," he says, his language tinged with a hint of an accent. "But I'm not here to bow down to reputations. I'm here to make my own." You can't help but respect that.

The crowd around you is hushed, waiting for the next move. Mark is there, his eyes on you, a silent question in his gaze. You give him a nod, reassuring him that you're okay, that you're in control.

 The rivalry between you and Mingyu has only just started, and it's going to be one hell of a race.

Mark storms over, eyes flashing with anger. "What the hell are you two talking about for so long?" His voice cuts through the cheers of the crowd, drawing their attention. You feel the tension between him and Mingyu, like a string pulled taut, ready to snap.

Mingyu just watches him with that sly grin, clearly enjoying the show. His gaze flickers over you, lingering on your leather pants, and you feel a shiver of annoyance and something else you can't quite name.

"Hey, Mark," you say, trying to keep your tone light, but there's an edge to it. "Calm down. We were just talking."

"Talking? That's what you're calling it?" Mark's voice is loud, drawing even more eyes to your little drama. He turns to Mingyu, his face red. "And what are you looking at?"

You roll your eyes, the frustration bubbling up inside you. "Mark, walk."

He stares at you, eyes wide in disbelief. "What?"

"Yeah, walk," you repeat, your voice firm. "Just go cool off."

For a moment, it looks like he might argue, but then he glances at Mingyu, who’s still smirking, clearly enjoying the spectacle. With a huff, Mark turns on his heel and stalks off, the crowd parting to let him through.

Mingyu chuckles, a low sound that only you can hear. "What an obedient boyfriend you have."

You shoot him a look, half warning, half curiosity. "Don't push your luck, Mingyu."

He raises his hands in mock surrender, the grin never leaving his face. "Just calling it like I see it. But seriously," his tone shifts, becoming more sincere, "you were amazing out there."

"Thanks," you say, the word coming out more curt than you intended. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension from Mark's outburst. "So, why did you want to race me, really?"

Mingyu’s expression becomes thoughtful, the cocky façade slipping just a little. "Because I wanted to see if the rumors were true. And now, I know they are."

You can't help but smile at that, feeling a rush of pride. "Well, you gave me a good run for my money."

"Next time," he says, his voice low and filled with promise, "I'll be the one crossing the finish line first."

"We'll see about that," you reply, walking out with your motorcycle by your side, glancing at him over your shoulder. 

[...]

Mingyu, the new kid, had something different, something that pushed your limits in a way no other rival had before. It was exhilarating, but also stressful. And your boyfriend’s incessant comments about Mingyu didn’t help.

Every time he brought up how Mingyu looked at you, how rude he was, how he thought he was the most incredible thing, you rolled your eyes. Mark’s jealousy was nothing new, but you’d never seen him so uncomfortable around someone before.

For the past month, you’d heard from other students that Mingyu had been spreading rumors about how he was going to win this race, no matter what. It was irritating, but also a challenge you couldn’t ignore.

As you were heading to your P.E. class, you saw Mingyu and his friend walking down the hallway. He spotted you immediately, a grin spreading across his face.

"Look who's here, Y/N... without the leather jacket?" His eyes roved over your tight gymnastic clothing, clearly enjoying the sight.

You smiled around the scrunchie you held between your teeth as you tidied up your hair, then pulled it free to tie it up. "Look who’s here, Mingyu... still talking big?" you teased back, not missing a beat.

He laughed, a rich sound that echoed down the hall. "Only because I’ve got the skills to back it up."

"Oh, really?" you said, raising an eyebrow. "All I’ve seen so far is a lot of talk."

"Maybe you just haven’t been paying close enough attention," he replied, leaning casually against the lockers. "I’ll make sure to give you a front-row seat next time."

You finished tying your hair and gave him a mock look of concern. "I’d hate to see you disappoint all those fans you’ve been bragging to."

He smirked, undeterred. "Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered. You might want to start thinking about a new title because that crown is coming my way."

"Big words for someone who hasn't beaten me yet," you shot back, stepping closer, your confidence unwavering.

"We'll see about that," he said, his voice low and filled with promise. His eyes held yours for a moment longer, the air between you crackling with tension.

Mingyu doesn't look the least bit afraid of you, of your reputation, of what you can do on this track. He's bold, maybe even a little cocky, and you can't decide if you like it or if it just makes you want to wipe that smug look off his face. 

You've always been the one everyone looks up to, the one they whisper about in the halls. But now, there's someone new, someone who doesn't seem to know his place. And that's what makes him so intriguing.

You know Mingyu will be back, and he'll be better next time. And you can tell your boyfriend, Mark, is not happy about this new rivalry一about the way Mingyu makes you feel alive again.

"You've got to get your head out of the clouds, Y/N," Mark says as you look to the ceiling, "This isn't just a game anymore."

You pull back, looking up at him. "What do you mean?"

"Mingyu," he says, his voice tight with anger, "he's different. He's not like the others."

You roll your eyes, trying to play it off. "He's just a freshman with a fast bike," you say.

"He's been watching you," Mark says, his eyes searching yours, "studying you. He's got a vendetta, and I don't like it."

You swallow hard, pushing the thought away. You can't let Mingyu get under your skin like this. "I've got this," you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

But Mark's not convinced. He's noticed the way your mind has been elsewhere, the way you've been pushing him away. The way you've been turning down his advances, lost in thought about the new kid on the block. He's been frustrated for a few weeks, trying to get you to focus on anything other than the race. 

As the days pass, the tension between you and Mark grows thicker. He tries to initiate sex, but your mind is always elsewhere, replaying the race, thinking about Mingyu's next move. You know you're hurting him, but you can't seem to stop.

 The thought of Mingyu, of the way he looked at you, of the way he talked about winning, it's like a drug. And you're hooked.

The next day, you're in the garage, wrench in hand, making some final adjustments to your bike. You've always been meticulous, but with Mingyu on your mind, you're even more so. You can't have anything going wrong on your bike when you face him again.

The door to the garage opens, and you look up, expecting it to be Mark, but instead, it's Mingyu. He struts in, his leather jacket and bike helmet hanging casually from his hand.

"Hey, Y/N," he says, a smug smile playing on his lips. "I see you're still playing with your toy."

You roll your eyes, not bothering to hide your annoyance. "What do you want?" you ask, not looking up from your work.

"Just thought I'd come by and say congrats," he says, leaning against the workbench. "You put on a good show last night."

You raced a senior from your class last night. You won despite the slippery concrete caused by the rain. Again.

You slam the wrench down, the sound echoing in the empty garage. "Thanks, but I'm not looking for your approval," you reply, your voice icy.

Mingyu laughs, a sound that grates on your nerves. "You don't have to be so defensive," he says, his eyes scanning the garage, "I just wanted to talk shop, maybe pick up some tips from the queen herself."

You stand up, wiping your hands on your greasy rag. "What makes you think I'd share anything with you?"

He shrugs, his smile never wavering. "Call it a peace offering," he says, holding out his hand. "Truce?"

You stare at his hand for a moment, weighing your options. You know you need to keep your enemies closer, especially one as talented as Mingyu. You take his hand, giving it a firm shake. "Fine," you say, "but don't get any ideas."

"Oh, I have plenty of ideas," he says, his eyes glinting with mischief, "but I'll save them for the track."

You can't help but laugh, despite yourself. He's got nerve, you'll give him that. You spend the next hour talking bikes and racing strategies, and for the first time since the race, you feel like you're not just a competitor but a fellow enthusiast. It's strange.

As Mingyu leaves, you can't help but feel a blend of emotions. There's the excitement of the challenge he represents, the thrill of the rivalry that's been ignited. But there's also a nagging doubt, a fear that maybe Mark is right. 

Maybe Mingyu isn't just a racer looking to make a name for himself. Maybe he's got something more planned, something that could threaten not just your title but your relationship. 

You shake the thought off, telling yourself you're just being paranoid. After all, it's just a race, right?

[...]

The sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the makeshift circuit that’s been built for tonight's race. You take a long sip of your Gatorade, savoring the cool taste as you mentally prepare yourself for the competition. The grandstand is buzzing with energy, students excitedly chattering about the upcoming event.

As you sit there, focusing on your breathing, Mingyu appears and casually sits down next to you. You chuckle, unable to help yourself. "Are you following me, kid?"

He rolls his eyes, a familiar gesture by now. "I’m not a kid."

"But I’m your senior," you counter, grinning at the way his face sours. He’s always so easy to tease. "What did you plan?"

"Huh?" He seems genuinely confused, his attention now fully on you.

You smirk, leaning back a bit. "What do you have up your sleeve, Mingyu? Some oil on the floor, a pin in my tire...?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "I don’t need tricks to beat you."

"Good," you say, your voice dropping slightly, more serious now. "Because neither do I."

Before the conversation can go any further, your boyfriend, Mark, appears. "What’s he doing here?" he asks, his tone accusatory.

"Just talking," you reply, trying to keep your cool.

"Talking, huh?" Mark scoffs. "Seems like he’s always around, doesn’t it? You’d think he’s got nothing better to do."

"I think you’re overreacting." You breath tired. 

Mark's eyes narrow. "Just remember who’s waiting for you at the finish line."

Mingyu’s jaw tightens at this, his posture stiffening. He looks like he’s holding back something, a secret or a truth he’s not ready to share.

You glance at Mingyu, noticing the shift in his conduct. "What’s that look for?" you ask him, curious despite yourself.

He shakes his head, the tension in his body evident. "Nothing. Just focus on the race."

You button your jacket, feeling the familiar weight of the leather settle around your shoulders. Checking your shoelaces, you make sure they’re tight, ready for the race ahead. The buzz of your phone breaks the moment, a single notification lighting up the screen. You glance around, noticing other students doing the same, pulling their phones from their pockets.

It’s odd, almost synchronized.

The feeling in your gut is like a rock, weighing you down, making it harder to breathe. You glance around, noticing the smirks and knowing looks from the other racers, the whispers that seem to carry on the wind. 

You click on it, and your heart sinks like a stone. It's a picture of Mark, your Mark, kissing a girl. A girl with auburn hair and a laugh that's nothing like yours. And he's wearing the shirt you gave him just this week, the one with the funny racing pun on the back. The same shirt he wore to bed last night, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

You stand there, frozen, as the world carries on around you. The cheers of the crowd, the roar of the bikes—it’s all just background noise now. You look up and see everyone watching you, their expressions a combination of pity and shock. They all know now. They've all seen it.

And as your eyes meet Mingyu's, you realize that he knows too. There's something in his gaze, a glint of satisfaction that makes your blood boil. Did he do this? Did he send this to you? The thought is like a knife twisting in your gut, but you can’t be sure.

With trembling hands, you slip the phone back into your pocket, trying to compose yourself. You don’t want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart. But as you button your jacket and tighten the laces of your boots, you can’t help but feel like you’re tying up the loose ends of your life. 

Everything’s changed in the span of a single message. Your heart is racing, but it’s not from the thrill of the chase anymore. It stems from the agony of disloyalty and the rage at being played for a fool.

And as you turn to face Mark, who’s pushing his way through the crowd, his eyes searching for yours, you know that the real race has only just begun.

Your breath comes in shudders as you hop on your bike, putting on your helmet. You’ve give all the signs that you are going to race tonight. The crowd is abuzz with anticipation, their eyes locked on you. 

You roll the bike's accelerator, the roar calling for attention so the race can start. The flag girl gulps, her nervousness evident, and you look over your shoulder to see Mingyu approaching.

The girl stretches the flag, and you brace yourself. The lights go out, and suddenly, you're off, the wind in your hair, the roar of the engines filling your ears. Mingyu is right beside you. You can feel the bike responding to your every move, the tires gripping the asphalt like a vice. 

Inside your helmet, your breathing is loud and ragged, a stark reminder of the adrenaline and anger coursing through you.

As you race, your thoughts race too. Mingyu planned everything. He sat by your side to watch you unravel from Mark's jealous crisis, and then those messages minutes before the race start—meant to destabilize you. It’s like a puzzle clicking into place, each piece revealing the depth of his strategy.

The bike protests but holds steady as you apply more pressure. The track is a blur, but your focus is razor-sharp. Mingyu is still there, matching your speed, but you’re not going to let him win.

You replay the moment when you first saw the message, the image of Mark kissing another girl. It stings, but it also sets you aflame. How dare he think he can break you? How dare he underestimate you? You’re not just racing against Mingyu; you’re racing against the doubts and whispers.

Mingyu pulls ahead slightly, his bike edging past yours. You grit your teeth, leaning forward to reduce drag, pushing your bike to its limits. The sound of the engines is loud, the wind whipping past you. 

You glance at Mingyu. He thinks he won, that his plan worked. But he doesn’t know you. 

You see the final stretch approaching, the finish line within sight. You dig deep, finding that last reserve of strength. You and Mingyu are neck and neck, the crowd’s cheers blending into a single roar. The world narrows to just this moment, just this race.

As you cross the finish line, you throw all your weight into one last burst of speed. You cross the line a split second before Mingyu, the crowd exploding into cheers.

You slow down, the realization of your win sinking in. You did it. Despite everything, you did it. But still, there is no taste of victory in your mouth.

The cheers fade as you lean forward, gripping the handlebars, and ride your bike away from the circuit, leaving a cloud of dust behind you. The streets blur past you, seeking an escape from everything. Your dorm or campus are the last place you want to be tonight.

After what feels like hours, you spot a cheap motel by the roadside. Its flickering neon sign is a welcome sight, a promise of anonymity, and a place to rest. You pull in, park your bike and walk to the reception. The clerk barely looks up as you hand over cash for the night. Key in hand, you head to your room.

The room is small and poorly illuminated, but it’s a refuge from the chaos of the night. You lay on the bed, the springs creaking under you, and pull out your phone. The screen is still lit with notifications, but you don’t want to see any of them. Whether it was Mingyu or someone else who shared those photos, you don’t care. Not tonight.

[...]

The weekend drags by, each minute feeling like an eternity. You don’t go to class, don’t leave your dorm except to grab food from the vending machine, because, you can’t face the pity in your friends’ eyes.

You clean obsessively, organizing your bookshelf, scrubbing the floors, folding clothes into neat piles. It’s a futile attempt to regain some semblance of order in your life. It feels like you’re erasing him from your life, one item at a time.

The notifications on your phone keep popping up, your friends and classmates checking in, asking if you’re okay. You manage to reply with short, curt responses. "Yeah," you type, "Just need some space." The lie feels heavy on your fingertips, but it’s easier than explaining the tornado of emotions inside you.

As the day stretches on, you start to feel a little more in control. You’re not going to let this beat you. You’re not going to let Mark or Mingyu ruin what you’ve built. 

So you sit there, in the quiet of your room, and you start to plan. You’re going to show up to class, to the next race, with your head held high. You’re going to leave the drama behind and focus on what you do best—race.

On Thursday, you walk into class, a box in your arms. The whispers start as soon as you enter the room, the eyes are on you like a spotlight. You find Mark’s usual seat and drop the box in front of it, the thud echoing in the stunned silence.

The box, with his things.

You don’t wait for his reaction. You don’t need to. You turn and walk out, leaving the whispers and the weight of his backstabbing behind.

At lunch, you sit with your friends, the same table you’ve shared since freshman year. They all look at you, their eyes filled with concern. "You okay?" one of them asks, tentatively.

You nod, trying to put on a brave face. "Yeah," you say, your voice stronger than you feel, "I just needed some time to sort things out."

They all nod, understanding without needing the details. They know the score, they know what happened at the race. They know about the picture, the rumors, the cheating.

"You've cried enough," your best friend says, her voice firm but gentle, "It's like that bruise on your knee from when you were seven. It hurt like hell, but it's healing now."

You manage a small smile at the memory. It’s true. You’ve shed enough tears over Mark to fill an ocean. But here you are, breathing, standing, moving forward.

"Let’s talk about something else," you say, changing the subject. "What's new with all of you?"

They exchange glances, clearly surprised by your sudden shift in tone, but they follow your lead. They talk about their classes, their weekends, their plans for spring break. You listen, really listen, letting their words wash over you like a balm to your soul.

"Oh, and apparently none of Mark’s friends want to talk to him," someone says, almost as an afterthought. "They had no idea."

"Good," you say. "He’s not worth their time either."

Your friends nod, respecting your wishes to not delve into the drama further. You don’t need their pity or their empathy. You just need them to be there, to be the rock that grounds you.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, and you all stand up, collecting your trash. "Thanks, guys," you say, your voice genuine.

"For what?" one of them asks.

"For not treating me like I’m made of glass." you reply, smiling.

They laugh, you know they’re worried, but you also know they trust you to handle this. You’re the same person you were before the race. You’re strong.

The sadness has morphed into something else, anger simmers just under the surface, a slow burn that’s been building since that message. You’re not just mad at Mark, but at Mingyu too. You don’t know his role in this, but you can feel his influence, the way he’s been poking and prodding, trying to get under your skin.

And now, it’s like a game of chess, and you’re the pawn in the middle of the board. You can’t help but wonder if he’s been playing you from the start. If all those smirks and smug looks were just part of his plan to take you down.

The bell rings, and you grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. As you turn to leave, you feel a hand wrap around your arm. You turn, ready to snap, and find yourself face-to-face with Mingyu. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Come on, don’t be grumpy. Running away from me, princess?” he says, a sulky look on his face.

You remember avoiding both Mingyu and Mark all day, doing everything to keep your distance. You start to leave, but he holds onto your arm again, making you huff in frustration.

“You should thank me, don’t you think?” he says, his tone teasing.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

Mingyu smirks. “First, I let you win last Saturday,” he says, lying through his teeth. You remember how he was right on your tail during the race, clearly giving it his all.

“And I got you rid of that asshole,” he adds.

You cross your arms, glaring at him. “So, you’re admitting you orchestrated this whole thing, huh?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, I warned him it would happen.”

“He knew?” you ask, your voice rising in disbelief.

Mingyu tilts his head slightly, like he’s stating the obvious. “Of course he knew. Y/N, he was cheating on you for a whole semester. At the first freshman party I went to, I saw him with Sayla. She’s from my class.”

“What?” you nearly shout, drawing the attention of nearby students. Mingyu gives you an exasperated look, like it’s common knowledge.

You grab his arm and drag him around campus, heading for the grandstand where you can talk in private. Once there, you turn to him, your eyes blazing with anger.

“I saw the photo, and I know it’s real. But Mingyu, if you’re lying about this, I swear I will fucking kill you.”

He shakes his head, his expression serious. “Why would I lie to you? If I need to tell you something, I’ll say it to your face.”

“Tell me from the beginning,” you demand, crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes but starts talking. “Well, it was my first party here, a freshman party. I needed to go to the bathroom, and there they were, making out.”

You make a disgusted face, which seems to amuse him. “But in the photo, they weren’t in a bathroom,” you point out.

“Yeah, it happened plenty of times. When I found out he was your boyfriend, I went to a frat party and took that photo,” Mingyu explains.

“That one?” you ask, referring to the incriminating photo.

Mingyu nods. “Yeah, that one. He saw the photo and came to have it out with me. I might have told him that if he didn’t tell you, I would, and that I would love to take care of his girlfriend.”

You scoff. “So that’s why he was so sick-jealous of me?”

Mingyu closes his eyes and nods like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You curse under your breath, feeling the weight of betrayal all over again. “This motherf—”

You stop, looking at Mingyu, who’s watching you with a confused expression. “What do you mean by ‘take care of his girlfriend’?”

Mingyu smirks. “I was interested in you. But when I found out you were dating, I backed off. When I saw your boyfriend slacking, I needed to make it clear to Mark that I was going to reach out to you somehow.”

You narrow your eyes at him, the audacity of it all making your blood boil. “So, you’ve been planning this from the start?”

“Not exactly,” Mingyu says, shrugging. “But I saw an opportunity and took it. Your boyfriend was a dick, and you deserve better.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “And you think you’re better?”

Mingyu’s is smug. “I know I am.”

“And what makes you think I’d be interested in you?” you challenge, crossing your arms.

Mingyu steps closer, his gaze intense. “You’re fierce, competitive, and you don’t take shit from anyone. You’re exactly the kind of challenge I like.”

You roll your eyes, though a small part of you is flattered? “You’re still an asshole.”

He grins. “Maybe, but at least I’m honest about it. Can’t say the same for Mark.”

You take a deep breath, trying to process everything. "Mingyu, just stay out of my way. I don’t need any more complications.”

“What can I say? I know what I want.” He shrugs before leaving, again, with that stupid smirk on his face. 

[...]

You were dragged by your friends to every party on campus, parties you didn’t even know existed, every day a new one. According to them, you needed to enjoy your new ‘single’ life. And with all the guys on campus now aware that you were single, your DMs were flooded. 

Tonight was one of those nights. Everyone saw you parking your motorcycle in front of the frat house, the rumble announcing your arrival. You danced with your friends, met new people, but your happiness didn’t last long.

You caught a glimpse of Mark and Sayla. Sayla was wearing one of his baseball jackets, his arm draped over her shoulder. Everyone stared at them, the ‘new’ couple making a fool of themselves. 

You didn’t expect Mark to be so bald-faced about it. Your blood boiled, your head felt like it was on fire, and you wanted to leave the party. But if you did, you’d look weak. So you stayed, trying to enjoy the party with your friends, but it was impossible. When Mark kissed Sayla, one eye open in your direction to gauge your reaction, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You grabbed your helmet and stormed out of the party, your friends calling after you, warning you not to do anything stupid because you were hot-headed. 

And you were, for real. 

Arriving back on campus, you pulled out your phone, fingers fumbling as you dialed a number. Your steps echoed, the dress you’d chosen for the party riding up with each step, making you pull it down in frustration.

The phone rang, and rang, until finally, a voice answered, “You calling me? Y/N, what a—”

“Where are you?” you cut him off, voice trembling with rage.

“Damn, what happened to ‘hello, how are you?’” The voice was playful, but you weren’t in the mood.

“Where. Are. You.”

“Hell, I’m at my dorm, wassup?”

“Open the door,” you demanded.

“What?”

“Open the fucking door,” you said before hanging up.

Moments later, the dorm door opened, revealing Mingyu with the phone still in his hand, wearing only black shorts that showed a peek of his white underwear. He looked confused, but when he saw you—eyes almost black with rage, in your little dress—he swore it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

“Hmm, all upset, just the way I wanted,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe.

You pushed him inside, slamming the door shut behind you and tossing your cell phone on the table. You kissed him, rough and urgent, your fingers tangling in his hair. Mingyu moaned between kisses, the realization that you were kissing him sinking in. His hands found your waist, one hand sliding up to your neck, choking you slightly, making you gasp.

A smirk played on his lips, between breaths. “About time you admitted it.”

“Shut up,” you muttered before kissing him again, harder this time.

Mingyu's grip tightened on your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re so damn hot when you’re mad,” he murmured against your lips.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” you demanded, your fingers tugging at his hair.

He obliged, kissing you with a fervor that matched your own. His hand slid down your back, gripping your ass and pulling you against him. You could feel his bulge pressing against you, a reminder of how much he wanted you. You broke the kiss, breathlessly, your eyes locking onto his.

“What’s your plan, Y/N?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

You smirked, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “To make sure I don’t think about Mark ever again.”

Mingyu’s eyes darkened with craving. “I can help with that.”

“Good,” you said, pulling him back into a kiss, your hands exploring his body, feeling the heat radiating from his skin, fingers fumbling from his big chest, to the defined lines of his abs.

Your hand slides from his lower belly to his cock, squeezing his clothed erection slightly. You feel him twitch in your hand, a broken sob leaving his lips.

“Fuck, you got hard so fast,” you murmur against his mouth.

He moans, his breath hot and heavy. “Can’t help it when it’s you.”

You grin wickedly, turning around to show him the long zipper at the back of your dress. “Help me,” you say, your voice low and inviting.

Mingyu nods, his eyes dark with desire. He bites his lip, trying to stifle a moan as he catches the zipper and slides it down, his happiness akin to opening a Christmas gift. The dress falls away, and you hold your breasts in your hands, turning to face him, your fingers playing with your hardened nipples, watching his eyebrows furrow.

His hot hand covers yours, and you let him take over, feeling the heat of his touch. He pushes you toward the bed, his lips trailing kisses down your neck before biting gently, his notorious fangs grazing your sensitive skin. 

You moan, the sound going straight to his cock. His hands move desperately to your panties, fingers fumbling with the lace until they’re off your legs. He opens your legs with his hands, giving your wet folds a not-so-discreet look.

Mingyu licks his fingers, meeting your eyes before sliding them inside you. You scream at the sudden stretch, feeling his big fingers filling you. He looks at you, to see if it hurts, but then he feels you getting wetter and wetter, your pants filling the room. His hand stills, and you roll your clit against his palm.

His fingers start to slide in and out, the wet noises are sinful as he finds your g'spot. You gasp, your body arching from his bedsheets, your both hands finding his forearm, stilling his fingers curled in this position. 

Mingyu's eyes widen in surprise at your reaction, and he repeats the motion, pressing against your sweet spot again, making your eyes fill with tears. 

''R-right here! Please!" 

“Did your boyfriend never find this spot?” he asks, his voice serious.

You shake your head negatively, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. 

Mingyu's expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. “That asshole didn’t know how to please you,” he mutters, then his voice softens as he coos at you. 

You sob, his fingers curling repeatedly on the spongy spot. “Aw… don’t worry, my love. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

He continues to stimulate you, watching your every reaction, your pleasure nourishing his own. His fingers work you expertly, and you start to get embarrassed by how wet you are getting.

But you can't stop your hips from rubbing against his hands, you can't stop yourself from constantly moaning his name, and you can't help but wonder how you survived without feeling the pleasure Mingyu was giving you.  

Your body tenses so much, you're afraid of getting injured, and the pleasure builds, making your vision blurry, catching only Mingyu's silhouette. “Mingyu…,” you gasp, your voice shaking.

He's in love with your sensitive form. He slides his fingers out, brushing against your clit, making you moan, wanting the stimulation again, but then he munches on your pussy, making a throaty moan leave your mouth, tears wetting your cheeks. You don't even know if you're sobbing or moaning. You can only focus on his warm mouth sucking everything it can. 

Mingyu moans against you, like he's getting stimulated too, and when you manage to squeak out, “Gonna' cum,” he moans even more, the vibrations going to your clit as you arch your back, squeezing your tits. 

He opens your legs—quivering pathetically around his head—with the strength of his arms. He only stops when he feels your clit throbbing incessantly inside his mouth, all sensitive.

You don't know how long it took before you were in your mind again, but you can feel Mingyu kissing your whole body. For him, it was a maxim to calm you down, but mainly to appreciate every bit of your skin. When you open your eyes, he's kissing your hand, his thumb gently caressing it. You don't look much, or you will blush. For him, it could finish like this: you cummed, satisfied, and he gets satisfied. But then you mumble, eyes lidded, “Fuck me, please.”

His eyes almost fall from his skull. He watches your legs spread, and you slap weakly at your pussy, inviting him. Mingyu almost falls back with your tease. His hands, lowering his shorts and underwear in one go, desperate to go over you.

"Wait." 

He stills, and you smile at his obedience. You turn around, on all fours, wiggling your ass at him, and you hear a suffered moan behind you, making you scoff. 

He squeezes your ass between his hands tightly, then slaps your meat, making you hiss. Then another one, making you moan. Then another one, making you drip a line of your cum on the sheets.

Mingyu feels like a crazy creature. He pumps his veiny cock before sliding on your wet folds to spread your cum. And then slides inside. You were so tight, so tight that his blood pressure almost falls down. 

“I need to thank your boyfriend for keeping it tight.” He groans after bottoming out.

You widen your eyes at the comment, he sounded so sincere. And you laugh, your hand covering your face, and he chuckles too, seeing that he can't hold his tongue around you.

He can feel you clenching around him every time you laugh, making him moan synchronized with you. He starts to move and your laughs turn into moans, laughed-moans.

“Shit, you’re so tight, you are squeezing me,” he cries, his thrusts slow and deep.

“Didn’t think you’d be this talkative,” you manage between gasps, your body responding to every move he makes.

“Can’t help it,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. 

His pace quickens, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You grip the sheets, your back arching as he hits just the right spot. “Right there, Mingyu. Fuck, right there.”

He obeys, his thrusts becoming more precise, each one sending thrills through your body. “You feel so good,” he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips. “So fucking good.”

"Seriously, Mingyu," continue betwee moans, "you have no filter."

He grins, thrusting harder. "You're too much."

"Too much for you?" you tease, pushing back against him.

"Never," he mooans, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "I could do this forever."

You moan at his words, that feeling on your stomach tightening. "God, Mingyu..."

He leans over, his breath hot against your ear. "You like it when I talk, hm? When I say, how good you feel?"

You nod frantically, your mind a blur, you were cock-drunk, moaning his name like it was the only word you ever knew.

He chuckles darkly, thrusting deeper. "Good, because I’m not stopping until you can’t even say his name."

He stops his hips inside you, balls deep, and you can feel his tip kissing your cervix as he rolls his hips to make you feel it deep. Your arms quiver, making you fall with your chest on the bed, face on the sheets. You've never felt someone this deep before. Your hand reaches the bulge Mingyu makes on your belly, and you writhe.

He dirty talks, "You like to feel me here?"

You answer with a throaty moan. He closes his eyes to your rough moan and says, "Fuck, I need to see your pretty face moaning my name."

He turns you to lay on the bed again, one of your legs on his shoulder, and the other stretched by his hand. Since when were you this flexible? you think. When he slams inside you again, your messy cunt clings to him for dear life.

You moan all sly, and Mingyu is inches from your face now, and he teases you, "Look who's all sensitive right now. Where's that grumpy girl from the race? Hm? You just needed a good cock fucking you right to get you relaxed? Right, babe?"

You want to clap a hand on his mouth to keep his cocky talk out of it, but your pussy betrays you, clenching around him the moment his dirty words start to fall from his lips. Instead, you give some wet kisses on his lips. He reciprocates every one of them.

You ask him to touch you, and he looks in your eyes, asking, "Where?"

You guide one of his hands to your clit. He collects some of the lubrication that formed a ring at the base of his cock and starts to massage the swollen bud, circling it. Your nails scratch his back, and he hisses, eyes closing. He ruts desperately into you, your pussy casting a spell on him, all wet and good for him. 

You glance around the space, the warm illuminated lamp, the scent of his cologne everywhere, his tanned body sweating to give you pleasure, his muscles clenching as he holds you, his hand on your clit, his cock filling you, his eyes focused on every one of your expressions, his moans every time you clench.

You prepare for every detail when your eyes suddenly blur. You feel it coming... fuck. You're cumming, but something else is coming too. 

The realization hits you, and you say, "No, no, no, shit!"

You hold his bicep, your head thrown back, the veins on your neck popping. You try to stop, but you can't. You squirt all over him and his bed.

Mingyu stops inside you, mouth open. Now he gets desperate, taking his cock from you and cumming on your belly, so far that it hits your tits too. He lets your legs rest on the bed, and you cover your mouth.

"M-Mingyu, your bed! I'm sorry, let me put this to wash and—" You start to get up, feeling a rush of embarrassment and responsibility for the mess.

Mingyu, still catching his breath, quickly moves to stop you, his hand firm but gentle on your shoulder. He gives you a little push, making you lay back on the bed again. "Hey, relax," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's just a bed. We can clean it up later."

You look at him, your cheeks flushed. "But it's such a mess," you protest weakly.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "I like it messy," he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "Besides, I think I like you better like this."

"But seriously, Mingyu, your bed—"

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips capturing yours in a tender, lingering embrace. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. "The bed can wait," he murmurs. "Right now, I want to focus on you."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the sincerity in his voice making your pulse quicken. "Mingyu," you whisper, feeling the heat rise in your body again.

He tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing gently over your lower lip. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says softly. "Especially when you're all flustered and breathless like this."

Mingyu's eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Then why don't we make a little more mess before we clean up?" he suggests, his voice a seductive whisper.

[...]

Your ex's message lights up your cellphone on the table beside the bed: "Where are you?" Mark asks. You can't help but scoff at the audacity. The nerve of him to ask after everything he's done. A surge of defiance washes over you, fueled by the memory of him flaunting Sayla around like some trophy.

Mingyu's rhythm doesn't falter as he thrusts into you from behind, his hand gripping your hair, pulling just enough to make you feel the pain on your scalp, but loving the pleasure that comes with it too. You reach for your phone, you know exactly how to answer Mark's question.

With a quick swipe, you open the camera, positioning it just right. The screen captures the sinful scene—Mingyu's defined body behind you, your flushed shoulder peeking into view, and your hair being pulled by Mingyu. 

You snap the photo and attach it to the message as a single view photo. 

Letting the image speak for itself.

"Here's your answer," you mutter under your breath, hitting send.

Mingyu's grip tightens, his pace quickening as he senses the shift in your mood. "What did you just do?" he asks, laughing.

You turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, a wicked smile playing on your lips. "Just answered a question," you reply, your voice breathless.

Mingyu's eyes darken with approval. "Good girl," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck, his thrusts growing more forceful. "Let's give him something to really be jealous about."

The bed creaks beneath you, the sound mingling with the chorus of moans and gasps that fill the room. As Mingyu's hand slips down to tease your clit, your phone buzzes again, another message from Mark. 

But you don't bother to check it. 

[lostintransist]

Broken Beyond Bearing

-… . - .- … / -… . .. -. —. / -… ..- - -.-. …. . .-. . -..

@beloveds-embrace I hope I did this idea a bit of justice so far. Inspired by the delcious idea from beloveds found here.

AO3

CW: references to medical procedures that were not agreed to, reader is dying, A/B/O, odd dynamics, babies first time writing A/B/O.

A/N: I am really new to A/B/O so if something feels off or if you want more of this idea LMK!

Kate told you that the CIA still used Morse code in the field sometimes. It had fallen out of fashion after World War II and the alphabet soup of government agencies liked to reuse what they could. She said it worked best for short messages and when speaking could alert enemies. She talked at you nonstop on the long drive from the hospital. You wondered if the silence would bite at her toes or if the drone of the engine would keep it at bay.

She found you in the waiting room. Back straight, head upright you stare out the window across from you. If you ignore her maybe she will leave you alone like everyone else. You had been freed from a facility when some government agency or another busted them for performing illegal experiments on betas. Everyone else had a family to return to.

You weren’t everyone.

“I have a friend at this hospital. He called me when he saw that you had yet to be released,” she uses a soft voice as if the mint green and oddly shaped couches were pews instead. Pews don’t creak like plastic when you shift your weight. “My name is Kate. My friend, Ty, is an administrator here. He mentioned you needed someone to sign for you due to your beta status and the lack of documentation on your identity.”

Silence had been your only weapon against the staff there and the staff here.

She smells of alpha, the heady scent that should reek of safety and confidence. It tastes sour in the back of your throat.

“I’ve read through the information about you from Scorpio, the changes they made to you? They don’t expect you to make it another five years.” Kate rubbed her hands down the top of her slacks. “I’m here to give you an offer.”

Glancing at her without turning your head you wait. When she meets your side eye you shift your gaze back to the distant fluffy clouds dotting the sky like sheep grazing through a meadow. The sky sheep look all the whiter for the blanket of snow smothering the earth below.

“I know of a group of men, even split between them alpha and omega, who could use someone to care for. They are gone for long stretches of time and won’t pressure you for anything, only to care for you and use you as a touchstone of normalcy,” Kate lets out a breath, the shifting air bringing more of her should be comforting scent to your nose.

Voices drift past the locked doors to your right. You had posted up on the maternity floor, the staff had yet to find you here the last few times you were able to avoid their gazes.

“Why me?” Your voice whispers out. Should have grabbed the water mug the night nurse had left on your tray before you ducked from the room.

“Well, that’s the sticking point. They don’t know you would be coming. The guys have started to fray at the edges, getting reckless on jobs. I need them to be safe. If they have someone to come home to?”

Ah, so this wasn’t about you. Couldn’t ever be about you could it? No. Always a beta, never important.

Scorpio had seen six hundred seventeen betas through their doors before you quit counting. Not one of them left through the front door.

“You can’t tell them I’m dying.”

Control had to be a resource you doled out sparingly.

“Done.”

“And I get my own bed.”

The wrinkles around her face deepen as Kate settles on an unsure look.

“I’m not sure…”

“I will spend time in their nest when invited but I get my own bed,” you look at her now, face to face.

She must see something unmovable in your expression.

Sighing, her eyes drift shut and her shoulders relax.

“I will make it happen.”

Nodding once you stand.

“Lead on Kate, let us meet my doom head-on.”

Kate chooses not to comment on your morose declaration.

Maybe that is why she filled the car with her voice? She must not appreciate your brand of deadly honesty.

Her voice drifts away as she turns off the well-maintained and snow-cleared highway for a clear spot marked only by the tire tracks that lead between the dense trees.

“I’ve told them so many damn times they need to move closer but no it’s all ‘Kate you don’t understand we need the space from everyone’ and never thinking of how hard it is for people to visit them,” she mutters to herself as the color leeches from her knuckles with each slip of the tires.

“Maybe they don’t want visitors.”

Kate’s brows pull down as she glares out the windshield.

Looking back out the window you catch sight of a massive moose between the trunks before it disappears into the trees. It takes another twenty minutes of achingly slow driving before Kate finally relaxes her shoulders.

The smell of satisfaction drifts through the car heater. Turning you find a modestly large cabin, a green metal slanted roof, and a porch that reaches from one corner of the house to the other. Next to the stairs that connected the porch to the ground are two vehicles, one SUV and one large truck, though these both sit neatly under the porch. Kate parks in the open.

Without hesitation she climbs from the driver’s seat, grabbing the backpack she picked up for you with your three changes of clothes and two sets for sleeping. Kate is halfway up the stairs when you finally join her. Snow clings to the canvas of your shoes even as you follow in the large boot prints she left behind for you.

Tucking your arms close to your chest you stand behind Kate as she pounds with a fist on the door. The swish of her coat is the loudest sound beyond her beating for entry. You are fighting to keep your teeth from chattering when the door finally opens. You didn’t know cold had a smell. The only word you could find for it? Sharp.

“John. Took you long enough,” Kate pushes her way through the opening in the door.

A burly man steps back to allow her entrance. He is barely decent, his robe hanging open and tie only just covering his bits. John lifts a brow at you when you don’t immediately follow. You are not dressed for winter. When a particularly chilled bit of wind rushes past you and into the house, he moves to shut the door. Darting inside you watch him warily until you stand near Kate again. She stands in front of a massive couch. Counting the cushions, you give yourself the space to breathe. Twelve separate sitting spaces, three walls of a square, and still with room to walk behind and peer out the window that took up nearly the whole wall behind it.

“Not like you to show up without calling Kate. What is this about?” John steps around the snow you shed on his hardwood floor.

“I brought you a wife.”

They stare at each other for nearly thirty seconds. Your toes start to sting from the cold. The shoes on your feet squeak as you shift from foot to foot. Making the mistake of breathing too deeply you can taste the battle of wills between them. Kate’s shouldn’t be sour scent warred with John’s masculine, woodsy scent. He was an omega?

A long table is positioned opposite the kitchen, and central to it all is a wood-burning stove. The kitchen has an excess of cabinets. You start to count them to avoid what your nose is telling you.

“Why would I need a wife?” He finally asks.

You are also curious about the word choice. Betas weren’t terribly important in the grand scheme, born at a lower rate and died at a faster one. Populations didn’t need betas to survive, they, you, were mostly only good for keeping fights from escalating. With everyone receiving training in school anymore on how to address and deal with signs of rut/heat to avoid fights, death due to rut-related combat had reduced by over half. Betas were less important than ever. The other reduction in deaths had come from Scorpio.

Sarah had always been so proud to tell you about how you were contributing to keeping alphas from killing each other when she drew your blood or injected you with yet another unknown serum. The government had started to pump the barest amount of what Sarah called, calmers, into the water system. Said it was good for everyone, like fluoride.

“Serin, helicopter, Los Alamos, hospital visit. Would you like me to go on?” Kate said all those words as if they made any sort of sense.

John sucked in a deep breath through his nose. His eyes snapped to you.

“What are you?”

Kate steps in front of you. The slap of your hand to your scent gland runs parallel to her words. Sarah had done something to you, changed everything at a base level, including your scent.

“Beta, and a wife. Someone to care for, someone who needs you.”

His eyes are on you as sounds from deeper in the house reach your ears. Deep voices, a loud thump, then laughter. You look past John and see a set of stairs near the front door that leads to a second floor that only takes up part of the space from the vaulted ceiling.

“We don’t need anyone Kate-” he folds his arms across his hairy chest as Kate cuts him off.

“Should I ask them then? Call them down and see what they say?” She glares up at him, the height difference not making a difference even when her alpha to his omega should. You had only ever seen one dynamic, alpha ruling, all else managing to stay out of their way. That did not hold true here. They battled as equals.

John let his lung full of air go, a sigh of admission as his hands fell to his hips.

“No. We will take her.”

Kate nods once, settling your backpack on the couch before turning and giving your shoulder a squeeze.

When she turns back to John she gives him the final piece of information.

“She gets a room to herself. Doesn’t need to be much, but at least a place to retreat when everything becomes too much.”

He rolls his eyes but nods.

“Anything else Kate?” He asks drolly.

The glare she sends him is met with a smirk.

“I will check back in a week to see how everyone is settling.”

John walks her to the front door, opening it for Kate to step back into the startling brilliance of the sun twinkling off snow.

When the door clicks shut behind her John turns to you. His eyes drift from your feet upward until settling on your face.

“Hello, wife.”

Part 2 | Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

[mostlysignssomeportents]

I miss the old, good internet, but I don’t want to bring it back.

I want a new, good internet. One where users can’t be locked in because we make it legal to:

• reverse-engineer products and services, so you can leave a social media platform but still send and receive messages from the people you leave behind;

• jailbreak your devices so you can remove antifeatures like surveillance, ink-locking or repair-blocking; • move your media and files out of the silo whence they originated and into any player you want.

I want a new, good internet where we constrain the conduct of tech companies, banning unfair labor practices, deceptive marketing, corporate hostage-taking and other forms of rent-extraction.

I want a new, good internet where it’s both illegal to impose bossware on your employees, and where those employees can legally hack the bossware their bosses shove down their throats.

I want a new, good internet where creative workers and their audiences can reliably connect with one another, where news reporting isn’t held hostage to extractive processes.

I want a new, good internet where we seize the means of computation so that the digital infrastructure that connects our romantic, personal, political, civic, economic, educational and family and social lives is operated by and for the people who use it.

-Enshitternet: The old, good internet deserves a new, good internet

[orphicsun]

thoughts on car mechanic sevika?

CAR MECHANIC SEVIKA HEADCANNONS. SUGGESTIVE CONTENT BELOW

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who went to school to become a mechanic and ended up being hired rather quickly by a garage two miles away from her apartment, a well known place named "Silco's Auto Haven." Yeah, she should've known her boss would be a prick. She doesn't get paid enough to put up with his bitching, you'd think she was a masochist the way she ended up working there for well over five years.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who sports a wife pleaser and the hottest cargo pants known to man. Tight around her thighs, hugging the curve of her ass, but the entire outfit, complete with a pair of dirty boots, gives off a more butch look. Tattoos litter her arms, and a piercing subtly fills the area just below her delicious bottom lip.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who is used to a rather solitary life besides babysitting her bosses' foster children Jinx and Isha. She'd say to anyone who asked that they were annoying brats, but she was secretly soft around children and was good with kids when she wanted to be. Those two were her favorite.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who swears she doesn't check out customers, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't brush off the discounts she offered you as "simple kindness." She'll approach your car, face spotted with tiny bits of oil that should be downright illegal to look so attractive adorning, and acts as if she's not soaked in her boxers just glancing your way.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who is nothing but shy; however, when it comes to a certain you who needs oil changes, something she handles quite frequently, she'll forget her train of thought.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who was on her way home after the usual long day at Silco's driving home in her truck, an old but reliable possession of hers in which she did work on herself, soon noticed a familiar car on the side of the road. Coming to a stop, her hand shifted gears into park and approached the front seat window, to which she was greeted with the sight of you, the most pitiful look on your face as you explained that your car, usually reliable and your most prized possession, broke down. Sevika was gruff, maybe came off as indifferent to many. Still, she was a good woman.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who luckily had the resources in the bed of her truck to get your car started back up. You thanked her so graciously, to which she warmed up to you. She gave you her number in case you needed any further assistance.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who has a bad case of what you'd call "crushing," a term she refuses to use and would scoff at. She can't help it; you text her so sweetly, even when you don't need the oil changed on your car or when your engine is running smoothly.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who eventually asks you out, and spoils you with a soft heart others may not get to see with her. Buys you roses, lets you sleep in her boxers, and even allows you to stop by the garage to bring her a home-cooked lunch.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who didn't mean to make out with you for the first time in the garage, but it just kind of happened. You stopped by for a legitimate reason this time, needing her to pop under the hood and make sure everything was all good and dandy with your car. She had some work to do, and she so sarcastically suggested that money wouldn't suffice as a proper payment. You didn't catch the joke.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who had you in the employee bathroom sitting with your legs parted on the sink as she kissed you desperately, lips slotted together to make delicious little smacking noises. Her tongue was all over yours, her lips suckling on your bottom one, making you whine into her mouth. She wasn't going to take things further in this filthy place, but she was surely tempted to. She swore that you tasted like candy, or maybe your lip gloss did. Either way, she didn't give a fuck. You were so pretty and tasty, practically edible and she couldn't get enough of you, of the way you tugged on her ponytail as she left hickies all over your neck that you'd be embarrassed of later.

ʚɞ Car mechanic Sevika who didn't charge you that day for the car check-up, instead putting it on her own tab. If Silco had anything to say about it, she'd happily apply to the auto shop a few miles away.

[fungifaggot]

Alternative!Mark Grayson x Cat!Hybrid Gn!Reader

Content: fluff?maybeidontknow- like in a toxic, abusive way. Also sexual undertones if you squint.

A/n: I wrote this with Mohawk Mark in mind, but it's not specified at all in the fic.

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

You were a test experiment.

Born in a secret base run by rogue scientists, your existence was part of an illegal project looking to engineer animal-human hybrids. They tested everything- bears for strength, dolphins for underwater efficiency, and then there was you: a cat hybrid.

You were gifted with heightened senses such as enhanced smell and hearing, night vision, retractable claws, and improved agility- you were the ideal build for stealth missions. You were a natural infiltrator. A thief. And an assassin. They trained you to move in the shadows, to slip through security, and retrieve things that no one else could.

You didn’t question your orders. You didn’t dream of the outside world. You didn’t even wonder why you existed. You just did what you were told. And in return, they gave you food, a place to sleep, and a purpose.

That was until one particular mission.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just sneak into an enemy base, eliminate the targets, and get out without raising any alarms.

You moved silently and efficiently through the base. You had already picked off nearly a quarter of their team, hiding the bodies before anyone noticed.

“This’ll be easy,” you thought to yourself right before a blur of yellow came crashing through the wall beside you.

The impact sent you flying. You would’ve landed on your feet if it weren’t for the solid wall of muscle that tackled you mid-air and pinned you to the ground.

He punched you. Once. Twice. And on the third hit, he stopped.

His fist hung above your face, trembling slightly. You were frozen beneath him, dazed, breathing hard. You’d faced enemies before, but none like this. This guy was stronger. This guy could kill you. And for the first time, you felt real fear.

Maybe it was the look in your eyes. Or the way your fur raised in terror. Perhaps it was because he read the collar around your neck- the one that said “Property of (idkicantthinkofsomething) Inc.”

You had just killed a dozen men without a second thought. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt you.

The last thing you remember was the sharp snap of him tearing off your collar.

Then everything went black.

When you woke up, you were in a cold, unfamiliar cell.

Your ankle was chained to a stone wall. A new collar around your neck. The chain was just long enough to let you pace a few feet. But that was it.

You stayed in this prison for about two months- at least, that’s what you guessed. The only way you kept track was by scratching tally marks into the wall with your claws.

Life in prison wasnt particularly different from your life before. You weren't treated well, and there wasn't much to do, but you were already used to being the property of someone else.

You spent most of your free time working out, grooming your fur, or trimming your nails on the rough stone wall.

Which is exactly what you were doing when the prison alarms started blaring. You heard loud crashes echo through the building, followed by the deep tremor of walls shaking and falling apart. Explosions rang out in the distance, and flames lit up the darkened hallways.

You were afraid. You didn't know what was going on; all you could hear were the loud sounds of the building falling apart and people screaming. You would have taken this moment to try and escape if it weren't for the shackles keeping you in your cell.

The best you could do was sit on your bed curled in a ball, covering your head in hopes of protecting yourself from flying debris.

"What do we have here~?"

Your ears perked up, facing toward the unfamiliar voice.

He looked familiar; his suit resembled that of the hero who had sent you to this prison. ‘Invincible’ was his name, you now knew. However, this guy didn't smell the same- you could tell he wasn't from around here.

You took a defensive position, extending your claws and baring your teeth with a loud hiss.

"Now now kitty, there's no need to be disobedient," He said as he approached you menacingly.

His voice was dripping with amusement. His words were riddled with laughter, even though it was out of place.

"Does this kitty cat like to bite?" he teased, extending a hand out to your face.

As he expected, you did. You clamped your jaw around his hand the moment he was within reach.

He retracted his hand, unphased by the pain.

"Tsk tsk tsk, bad kitty," he said with an exaggerated pout.

He lunged forward, grabbing you by the scruff, and lifted you up as far as the shackles would let him.

"Bad kitties deserved to be punished."

He pulled on your scruff even harder; it felt almost like he was going to rip the skin right off of your body. You knew he could if he wanted to.

And yet you were being held in the air at his mercy- he undressed you with his eyes. Taking in the entirety of your body, soaking in your beauty.

“We don't have anything like you where I’m from-” he mused, flicking at your sensitive ears, enjoying how you grit your teeth in pain.

“How cute…”

He stops talking for a moment, as if lost in thought, before a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Y’know what? I think I want to keep ya! You’re awfully pretty…”

He pulled your limp body closer to his, your limbs still dangling like a ragdoll.

“What do you think about that?” he asks, his smile growing impossibly wider.

It was a rhetorical question; you obviously didn’t have a choice.

You still hadn't spoken. You were worried that if you did, your voice would tremble.

He gently set you back down on the prison bed, releasing your scruff. His hand slid from your neck to your chin, tilting your head upward until you were forced to meet his gaze.

You tensed, unsure of what he would do next.

To your surprise, he started to move his hand gently, scratching under your jaw.

“What is he doing?” you thought to yourself

It was an odd sensation- getting pet, that is. It was something you’ve never felt before. Your creators never treated you to such affection. This was the first time that you have ever felt the gentle touch of another.

It was rather pleasurable.

You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned into his touch, instinctively pressing your cheek against his hand. His touch made your jaw feel warm, and the way he scratched you hit an itch you never knew you had.

“This kitty likes attention, don't they?” he cooed in a singsong voice, scratching deeper.

Amongst all the screaming and commotion happening in the background he almost missed it- the soft rumble of you purring.

You didn’t mean to purr; it just kind of happened.

The suited man jutted out his bottom lip in a fake pout.

“Awwww, I think this kitty likes me!” he teased.

With a swift motion, he grabbed your shackles and tore them from the wall.

“You’re going to make a perfect pet,” he said with a smirk.

“I think it’s time to take you home with me.”

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

A/n: sorry this is short, I ran outta gas towards the end of this one.

[chlorinecake]

I was thinking about illegalracer!jungwon as your bf. He takes you for late night rides on his motorcycle that finish with him fucking u on his place, it's like a normal routine now...

Imagine Illegal Racer Jungwon…

Who had a frisky side since the day you met him, living for the thrill of the night and earning himself a name of admiration and infamy on the streets as an underground racer…

Illegal racer Jungwon who turned every road into his personal racetrack, drowning out his thoughts with the roaring pulse of his motorbike engine.

Illegal racer Jungwon who never expected you to become a part of this side of his world, but enjoyed having you around regardless… internally smirking at the startled look on your face whenever his wheels took off in a race, or the labored breaths you’d let out once he returned to greet you with a victory kiss in front of every one watching.

Illegal racer Jungwon who made you sit on the back of his bike one day, inviting you to fully understand his love for the wild life, and you’ve been hooked ever since.

“If you hang on tight enough, I might reward you with something once we get to my place,” he’d say, revving the engine but refusing to take off until your arms were wrapped securely around his waist, nearby neon lights blurring into both your peripheral visions as the smoky wind whipped through your exposed hair.

Illegal Racer Jungwon whose eyes sparkled like onyx as these late night joy rides became a part of your normal routine, adoring how you learned to trust him when he’d speed down narrow alleyways, or come a mere centimeter from colliding into destruction.

You two had even been chased by the police before, but Jungwon always had a way of outrunning them, especially when he had a certain goal in mind to get you alone with him for the night…

Illegal racer Jungwon who with every harsh drift, loved it when you held onto him tighter, stealing kisses at red lights as silver rain painted the streets and your dewy leather jackets.

Illegal racer Jungwon who would park his motorbike under a tree, helping you take your helmet off with his protective hand at your hips, finger playfully linking in the hoops of your jeans as he buried his face in your neck, kissing you desperately in between whispering how badly he had missed you…

Illegal racer Jungwon who usually left the back door to your little secret place unlocked, mostly because it was reserved for one thing and one thing only.

Illegal racer Jungwon who always looked especially attractive in his damp biker suit, watching with lust-ridden eyes as you stripped him of his leather layers to grant you better access to his broad shoulders.

“Love it when I take you out just so I can fuck you, huh?,” he teased, almost cooing at the way you rushed to take off his belt.

Illegal racer Jungwon whose sultry voice tantalized your ears whenever he spoke dirty to you, taking your face in his free hand to force your glossy eyes back on him.

“That’s my good girl- shit… keep fucking yourself on my cock,” he’d grunt in between having you bounce in his lap, sounds of skin against skin filling the room, “does it feel good, baby?… hmm?”

“Feels s-so good, Wonie,” you hummed with a broken moan, throwing your head back as he continued guiding your hips, “gonna come… f-fuck- gonna come so hard for you, baby…”

Illegal racer Jungwon who let his eyes roll in the back of his head every time you clenched around him, his pouty mouth leaning forward to suck, bite, and lick on your skin anywhere he could.

Illegal racer Jungwon who would always finish on your stomach because he never remembered to bring a condom, once again, enjoying the subtle risk of potentially forgetting to pull out of you.

Illegal racer Jungwon whose soft “I love you’s” after a reckless night never failed to make your heart flutter, taking a short cut to bring you back home even if it was past two in the morning.

Illegal racer Jungwon who liked kissing you goodnight at your doorstep on nights like this, his hand playfully smacking your ass as he whispered in the cool air, “You better call me first thing in the morning, alright?”

Illegal racer Jungwon who chuckled to himself whenever you waved at him like he wasn’t the guy you fucked every night, driving off into the distance with his final thoughts being your pretty face, a flushed red hue from the love he made to you...

took me forever and a day to answer this ask (my sincerest apologies, anon), but hopefully you get to read it sometime soon !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr + the link to my masterlist ~

[avelera]

Unwell thinking about how the possibility to push Viktor to ask for more of Jayce's attention, or even to remove Mel from the picture, didn't even OCCUR to Future Viktor. Because he truly thinks that Jayce can't possibly unconditionally accept him and his flaws. He NEEDS to be physically perfect first.

So the timeline of Jesus Viktor keeps playing out as an inevitability, partially fueled by Jayce's attention being pulled towards the Council and missing a lot of red flags happening with Viktor.

When all it would have taken was Viktor directly asking Jayce for help or attention instead of skirting around the issue/generalising it to "people need our help". That sweet dog of a man would have dropped anything if only you asked, Viktor

Jayce would have dropped EVERYTHING, E V E R Y T H I N G if just ONCE Viktor had given him an unambiguous, "Help me!" I believe this in my bones.

And this gets into something I love about S1, which is how airtight it is written (S2 has a lot of bigger events but lays less groundwork, it's why I give it a 95% instead of a 100% like S1, just as a writer). Because you can go back to S1 and see every single moment that people could have prevented what comes later, and exactly why they were unable to do so.

You can see that Silco wants to shut down the bridge to trap Vi in the undercity -> He tells Marcus to find a way to shut down the bridge -> Jayce as a new Council is flustered and overwhelmed so when Marcus says the only way to be 100% safe is to shut down the bridge he says sure, let's do that then, because Marcus deliberately only gave an engineer one solution so the engineer listened -> Viktor gets trapped in the blockade after acquiring Shimmer, he's nervous and on edge because he has illegal drugs on him for an illegal experiment -> Jayce is overwhelmed and harried and freaking out because he's been summoned down to the bridge to collect Viktor. He's also freaking out because he's now worried for Viktor's safety because he's been getting fed crisis after crisis about how it's the people from the undercity who are dangerous, he just saw death for the first time after Jinx's explosion and he grew up with Piltover prejudices that are resurfacing under the assault of Silco's machinations, Jinx's attacks, and Marcus's manipulations -> Jayce freaks out and yells at Viktor out of fear for his life -> Viktor who was in an emotionally vulnerable place, fearing for his own life and worried he'd lose Jayce's regard if he proceeds hears Singed's voice in his head saying Jayce might not understand, decides not to tell Jayce about the Shimmer. Jayce's prejudices also push Viktor to clam up instead of going to him for help like he might have otherwise -> overall the chaos on the bridge and the Molotov further heightens the tension and robs Jayce and Viktor of a moment where Viktor would have felt comfortable coming clean, asking for Jayce's help, or bringing him in on the experiment -> Sky dies as a result -> EVERYTHING that happens in Act 2 as a result of Viktor doing those Hexcore experiments alone.

Like that's just one example of how that one bridge scene argument is caught in an incredibly intricate web of human cause and effect, it's fucking genius.

But we see why Viktor didn't ask for help, even aside from that one conversation on the bridge. He generally doesn't ask for help, perhaps because of his disability and his pride, perhaps out of shame because he knows these experiments are extreme, perhaps out of fear because he doesn't want Jayce to know how close to death he really is and fear clouds your judgement, perhaps because it's a very human, self-defeating thing to do.

And as for not asking Jayce to dump Mel... how could he? He's dying. When he dies, Jayce is going to be alone in the world, how can he begrudge him a new partner? Even if he despises her existence in Jayce's life with every fiber of his being? Especially when she seems to represent that he and Jayce's paths in life have diverged, and maybe that's what's best for Jayce! He has a promising future elsewhere, even if Viktor hates it, he's dying and he doesn't have the right to ask Jayce to change, not unless he can cure himself. Not unless he can offer himself as a real alternative.

Which is what makes the Mel-inspired look for his robot in 2.08 so fucking bonkers. Like wow, Viktor did it! He cured his disease and transcended humanity and he's working on their dream like they always wanted and he's BACK and he's ready to FIGHT for Jayce's time and attention, while effectively cosplaying as a robot version of Mel, in the Council Chamber that stole so much of Jayce's attention as if he needed to do any of those things to get Jayce's attention other than just ask him for it directly using his words.

[kairoot]

★ BRING THE HEAT — 이희승.

⤷ y/n has always disliked heeseung, the arrogant rising star of the racing scene. she especially dislikes him when he beats her brother in the city’s street racing round and takes it upon herself to do a rematch and race him. but when she gets herself stuck in a predicament, her enemy is the only one who can save her. maybe there’s more to heeseung than just his big ego.

racer!heeseung x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 angst + fluff + e2l 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 swearing, illegal racing, heeseung’s a bit cocky, racing gets a lil dangerous, etc .

“I’ll be fine, Y/N,” Your brother said, adjusting the buckle on his jacket. You sighed at his words, giving up on your pep talk. You’d been nagging him about the race all week and how you didn’t want him competing in it. Mostly because of your shared enemy and the city’s hottest racer, Heeseung. The way Heeseung raced compared to others was dangerous and your brother knew it. He was just stubborn. You knew he only wanted to win and show off but you were more concerned for his safety. He just couldn’t see that.

“You worry too much, sis’.”

He ruffled your hair before walking off to his car, grabbing the rest of his gear. The race started in an hour so you both had plenty of time to prepare. It’s not like you were racing. You just liked to help your brother get ready and be the one to cheer him on.

As you scanned the parking lot, you spotted Heeseung pulling in, the sleek red S2K rolling to a stop with a rev of the engine. Your jaw clenched as you watched him step out of the car, his signature smirk already plastered on his face. The small crowd of people who arrived early had began to cheer and he of course, soaked it all in, behaving as if he had won already.

Your heart tightened. You hated how nonchalant he was and how effortlessly he moved through the scene. The way his confidence seemed to fill the air. Heeseung was reckless, pushing limits in a way that made you anxious. You could only think about the close call encounters that him and your brother had before.

“Y/N?” Your brother’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He was already seated in his car, ready to go. “You good?”

You gave him a forced smile. “Yeah, just… watching him.” You muttered, gesturing towards Heeseung, who was now chatting with others in the crowd. His voice a low hum of confidence.

Your brother followed your gaze, shaking his head. “He’s all talk,” he said. “Don’t let ‘em get to you.”

You weren’t so sure, though. Every time Heeseung stepped onto the track, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this time would be different—that this time, your brother wouldn’t go home without a scar.

Before you could say anything, Heeseung turned his attention on you, catching your eyes from across the parking lot. For a moment, his smirk faltered as his eyes scanned you up and down. But then it was back, sharper than ever.

You crossed your arms, your stomach now doing backflips. “Hey, sweetheart,” he called out, turning to stride over to you with that signature cocky grin. “You gonna stand there all night or are you actually gonna cheer for big bro this time?”

You narrowed your eyes, stepping closer to your brother’s car. “You’re gonna lose this time, Lee.” You shot back, not bothering to hide the frustration in your voice.

Heeseung’s smirk widened, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Oh yeah?”

You gave him a nod, arms remaining crossed as you stood your ground.

“We’ll see about that.” He said smoothly, then glanced at your brother, nodding towards him. “Good luck, bro. You’re gonna need it.”

With that, he turned to you, sending a wink in your direction before walking off and disappearing into the crowd. You couldn’t help but feel the tension in the air as the race drew closer. Your brother had a chance at winning, but Heeseung’s chance was more likely.

As of right now, you couldn’t stop thinking about how dangerous this race could get.

An hour later, you were standing behind the wire fence, sweating out of fear. Heeseung and your brother’s car were lined up at the start line, engines revving. A loud horn blared, signaling the beginning of the race. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the thumping in your chest.

The countdown began. The seconds ticked by as both males prepared to speed off. The crowd’s cheers seemed to grow louder as Heeseung’s eyes flickered over to you for a moment, flashing his pearly smile. His gaze was sharp as he revved his engine loud purposely, making everyone go crazy.

You felt your heart race as the signal flashed and the cars tore down the track, their engines screaming with raw power. For the first lap, it was neck and neck. Heeseung, as usual, was taking risks, pushing his car past its limits as he swerved past your brother. You bit your lip, watching nervously.

Your brother was holding his own, but Heeseung showed no signs of slowing down. Each time they came close to one another, the tension in your chest tightened.

“He’s going too fast…” you whispered under your breath, watching as Heeseung’s car brushed dangerously close to the side of your brother’s.

Then, without warning, Heeseung cut across your brother’s path, forcing him to brake hard. Your stomach dropped as the back of your brother’s car skidded.

“No!” You gasped, gripping the fence. The crowd got louder again, but you could only hear the loud screeching of your brother’s tires. Heeseung, on the other hand, barely seemed affected. You glanced at him, and for a split second you could’ve sworn he smirked at you, as if he knew exactly what he’d done.

Your brother began to regain control, but you felt a wave of fear and anger roll over you.

As the cars sped off in the distance, your blood was starting to boil as you watched Heeseung’s car barrel forward, leaving your brother behind. The sharp smell of burnt rubber filled the air, mixing with thundering cheers from everyone. You gritted your teeth, hands gripping the fence harder. Heeseung was still treating the race as if it were a game. As if he didn’t just put your brother’s life at risk.

He wasn’t giving up that easily, though. You could see him pushing harder, taking more risks, trying to close the gap, but Heeseung kept dodging, using every opportunity to get ahead.

When Heeseung crossed the finish line, the crowd erupted into cheers, and a wave of disappointment flooded over you. You felt the anger rise, hot and sharp. Heeseung just stood there, his face glowing with triumph as he took off his helmet, flashing that damn smirk in your direction.

For a second, you thought about running over to him and yelling, but you didn't have the energy. Instead, you let out a frustrated breath, turning your attention back to your brother. He was still driving up to the finish line, but was slowing down now, visibly frustrated.

The crowd dispersed, and the tension in the air finally started to loosen. You moved toward the exit, needing space. You barely glanced at Heeseung as you walked past him, but his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"What’d I tell you, Y/N?” He taunted.

You spun around, fury rising in your chest. "You think this is a game?" you shot back, not bothering to hold back anymore.

"You put my brother's life at risk, and you just walk away like it's nothing!"

Heeseung's smirk only deepened, his eyes flickering with amusement. "Relax. He's fine, isn't he?" he replied, unfazed.

His calm demeanor seemed to piss you off even more, your hands coming to his chest as you shoved him.

“Y/N!” Your brother called out, trying to stop you. You continued to shove Heeseung back.

“You’re an asshole.” You pushed him one more time before his hand caught you wrist, stopping your actions. He still had that cocky expression on his face, but he didn’t say anything.

You snatched your hand away from him, not wanting to cause any more trouble. But then, an idea popped in your head.

“Race me.”

“What?” Heeseung quirked an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued now. “You? Race me?”

Without a word, you walked over to your bother taking the keys away from him and hopping in the car.

“Y/N, don’t do this,” he spoke, looking at you from outside the car. “It’s not worth it.”

You ignored him, sticking the key in the ignition, starting the car up.

Heeseung stood beside his car for a moment, watching you and shaking his head. He opened the door, getting into the driver’s seat, starting up his vehicle with the same confident demeanor.

The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears as you slammed your hands on the steering wheel, frustration coursing through your veins. The finish line had come and gone, and there you were, parked on the side of the track, your brother’s car still sputtering after the race. You could barely even look at Heeseung’s car, which was parked a few feet away, with that smirk of his still etched on his face as he got out of his car, basking in the glory of yet another victory.

You pushed open the door, stepping out and slamming it shut, staring down at the engine as you popped the hood. The clutch had malfunctioned, making it nearly impossible to shift gears properly. You needed to fix it, but you were clearly out of your depth. Your hands fumbled with the tools you had, frustration bubbling over.

“Damn it…” you muttered under your breath, banging your fist lightly against the side of the hood.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Heeseung approaching. He was watching you with that cocky grin, his arms crossed over his chest, looking unbothered by the fact that he’d just won.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice smooth but teasing.

You shot him a glare, not even bothering to entertain his cockiness. “No thanks. My brother can fix this.”

Heeseung chuckled, leaning closer and looking at the gears. “You sure he has the skill to do that?”

“I said I don’t need help,” you snapped, trying to stay calm as you glanced at the clutch. “I’ll figure it out.”

Heeseung just tilted his head, his smirk never wavering. “I’ve got the tools you need, and you clearly don’t. So, you can keep screwing around, or you can let me help you.”

“I told you, my brother can fix it,” you repeated, feeling your irritation rise. There was something about the way he was standing there, so confident, so sure of himself that made you want to push back even more.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, unbothered by your stubbornness. “And he’s going to fix it in the middle of the race, huh?”

You glanced at him, biting your lip in frustration. “I don’t need you to play hero, Heeseung. I’ve got this.”

He stepped closer, leaning over to look at the part and then at you. His breath was warm against your skin, his tone low and softer now but still full of that playful edge. “I don’t think you do. It’s a simple fix. I’ve got the tools in my car. You can try to do it yourself, or you can let me help you. Your choice.”

You gritted your teeth, staring at him for a long moment. His eyes met yours, and that smirk of his was still there, like he knew he was getting to you. He was being annoying, but it wasn’t like you could deny that you could use some help.

“Fine,” you huffed, stepping back and crossing your arms. “But if you mess this up, I’m blaming you.”

Heeseung grinned, completely unfazed. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He walked over to his car, and you watched as he pulled out a toolbox. He carried it back to your brother’s car with ease, setting it down beside the hood. He dropped to a knee, taking a look at the engine, his fingers tracing the parts as he inspected the problem.

“Seems like he needs a heavier clutch,” he muttered, pulling out a few tools to replace it.

You stood there, arms crossed, trying to act like you didn’t care that he was actually pretty good at this. “I still don’t know why you’re helping me,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

Heeseung glanced up at you with that same confident smile, his eyes flashing with amusement. “Maybe I like the challenge,” he teased, his hands working quickly and expertly as he adjusted the clutch.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re insufferable.”

Heeseung laughed under his breath as he finished the last adjustment. “All done. Should work perfectly now.”

You stepped forward, cautiously pressing the clutch, and you could feel it move smoothly this time. It was fixed. You looked at Heeseung, impressed despite yourself.

“Thanks,” you muttered, your tone softer.

Heeseung stood up, brushing off his hands and flashing you a grin. “See? Wasn’t that hard. Maybe next time, you’ll accept my help without the attitude.”

You scowled, but there was a lightness in your chest that you couldn’t deny. “Don’t push it, Heeseung,” you warned, though there was no real venom in your words.

He laughed again, packing up his toolbox. “Alright, alright. But, next time, let’s race without all the anger. Just you and me, sunshine.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was racing for a completely different reason now. “We’ll see,” you muttered, hoping the heat on your cheeks wasn’t too obvious.

As Heeseung walked back to his car, you felt a strange mixture of irritation and something else—a small flicker of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He turned to look at you again, sending you another wink before he walked over to a group of people, starting a conversation.

★ ★ ★

𝓂𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛’𝑠 𝓃𝑜𝑡𝑒：this should’ve been better im ngl 😔🙏🏽 but here it is! and ty to ren for helping me bc ik nothing about cars 🤍

( ✉️ ) — 𝓣𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @elysianiki @mmygnolia @nshmuras @who-tf-soddhi @pshwrldd — send an ask to join

( 📺 ) — 𝓝𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤: @k-films

[wonustars]

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (Teaser)

𖥔 pairing: kim mingyu x reader 𖥔 wordcount: ~15k+ (this teaser: 599) 𖥔 genre: fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni)

𖥔 reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ♡! tumblr is based on reblogs not likes, and they help writers like me to get better reach. thank you!

𖥔 summary: you and mingyu (a former mafia member and also your ex-fiancè's former best friend) are forced into witness protection. All you’ve been told is that you’re meant to act like a happily married couple. Pushed into a cookie cutter house, and a suburban neighbourhood far from the city, where people bring you baked goods on your first day and partake in small talk, it’s all foreign and new. There’s so many things you don’t know about him, but for a man who’s only known violence and all things illegal, he’s somehow the perfect house husband.

𖥔 tags: fake relationship/marriage!au, non-idol!au, mafia!au, afab!reader, norbert is readers cat (more tags when the fic is posted) 𖥔 release date: may 14 or 15, 2024 𖥔 author's note: if i end up posting after the predicted dates plz do not crucify me 🙏 ik a lot of people have been waiting for this one so i'd thought i post a teaser since i have 2-3 chapters left till its finally finished. thank you to all of those who sent in their ideas and to those who've shown so much interest in this story :") i really hope it lives up to your expectations!! see u soonest - anna ♡ !!!!

𖥔 keep reading

The first few days at the new house were uneventful and awkward to say the least.

Mingyu spent the majority of his time doing random housework, he thought that if he had to live here for a year, then he should at least try and make it as “homely" as possible. 

Many of the women in the neighbourhood had deemed Mingyu as their new eye-candy. Despite the fact that he wore his pink shibu inu apron while tending to the garden at the front of the house. They would especially make sure to take multiple laps around the block during their group walks, drooling over his toned muscles as he began to plant an array of flowers on the lawn. 

Mingyu isn’t very observant when it comes to people finding him attractive, believe it or not. He automatically assumes that the wives of Bridgewater just wanted to get to know the new couple that just moved in. 

“What a beautiful garden you have!” one of the wives called out from the sidewalk, her eyes glinting with appeal. 

“Thank you, It’s not done just yet, but I think we’re finally getting somewhere,” Mingyu smiles bashfully. 

“Of course dear. You know if you’re ever free you should come and take a look at my garden,” another lady giggles, her innuendo flying right over Mingyu’s head.

The group of fourty plus year old women all giggle like school girls as they watch his face turn red with flattery. Mingyu scratches the back of his head awkwardly as they bid him good-bye, curious as to what they group of women thought was so funny about him taking a look at their gardens. It’s all just a bunch of flowers isn’t it? 

The sound of your car’s engine brings Mingyu out of his thoughts, his gardening tools forgotten by the piles of dirt he left. You lug Nortbert’s carrier as you walk into the house, acknowledging his presence with a small nod. His pink aprons raises a few questions in your head, but you decide not to comment on it. 

“Oh hey you’re back, is he ok?” Mingyu asks, motioning to the carrier you hold in your hand. 

Halting your steps, your eyes widen as you realize that he’s talking to you, there wasn’t much conversation between the two of you since you’ve moved in. so you found it a little surprising that he’s asking about Norbert, the cat who tends to show lots of aggression towards him. 

“Morning. He’s ok, I just took him for his check up at the vet,” you shrug before entering the house. 

You leave the conversation there. There wasn’t much else to say anyways, and you had a lot of work to get to before the end of the day. If Mingyu feels a little bit ignored by your actions, he doesn’t make it noticeable, going back to working on his garden. 

From across the yard, neither you of Mingyu notice Seungkwan’s looming figure as he and Vernon enjoy the Friday morning sun. He watches the two of you from his porch with a quirked eyebrow. They’re awfully awkward for newly weds, he thinks to himself. 

“Nonie, don’t you think they’re a little weird?” Seungkwan nudges his boyfriend, who’s mumbling to himself while Vernon reads his book. 

Vernon quirks up, moving his headphones a little to hear what his boyfriend has to say, “huh? Sorry I was reading, what’d you say?” 

“Nothing, go back to your book love,” Seungkwan mumbles, his eyes still darting back and forth from your descending figure and Mingyu, his suspicions spiking once more.

[lizablackthorn]

season opening in Bahrain???? That’s boring but I cannot wait😻

Season opening in China??? That’s amazing 😻

[eclipseberrycake]

Raceway (P!MBC x Reader)

An: This is based on the Racer! Dandy's world AU on Tiktok by miss.vianne!

This doesn't follow theirs exactly, but I've previously written some racer! hc for a different fandom and really enjoyed them! So I thought let's bring it all full circle.

Warnings: This AU will have more mature themes, so if that's not your cup of tea, that's okay!

☁ Ladies, gentlemen and all those parties in between, start your engines.

☁ So, the lineup. The mains are all racers. Good racers. They're in the main circuit. They play by the rules. They are well known with merch and sponsorships. People cheer when they hear all about Astro Novalite, the sneaky drifter, or Sprout Seedly, the pitstop pusher, or Shelly Fossilian, the clutch expert, or Vee Version I, the light challenger.

☁ The four of them are good friends off the track, don't get them wrong, but on the track, they are at each other's throats. They are competitive and ruthless, pushing the limits of their teams and the announcers with every by the book race.

☁ They all have their own pit crews too! It's a mix of the other toons, split into each group, acting as buffers between the racers and a devastating loss. Sprout in particular pisses Cosmo, the crew chief for the Seedly team, off and thinks it's hilarious. Cosmo does not. He bitches about it every single time the other toons get together.

☁ Like the racers, the pit crews are all good friends too! Especially the Crew chiefs. Brightney is the head of Vee's crew, with Gigi the head of Shelly's. And while Cosmo gets along with them well, his true partner in crime is the head of Novalite's team. You.

☁ Astro had always been a top competitor, since you've taken the reigns however he's become a true threat. The amount of times he's taken a win right out from under Vee or Sprout is frankly hilarious, especially since Cosmo knows it's because of your intervention. Astro has always been a huge drifter in racing, but his previous mechanic couldn't keep up with the pressure on his steering and throttle. You could though. Every race, you'd get in nose deep to the beyond hot engine and tinker with it while the others worked on the rest of the vehicle.

☁ After every race, you did overtime to refresh the suspension, under the vehicle until Cosmo came and dragged you by the ankle. He'd admit he was sweet on you just a bit, but he couldn't help it. Beyond the professional race track, you were his partner in crime elsewhere too.

☁ When the sun went down and the excitement from the streamline races settled, a whole new environment opened itself to the streets of the city, hidden in the shadows away from peering eyes. Roars of unregulated engines and too-loud exhausts weren't uncommon, along with the drunken cheers and boos of the night life alighting with the stars.

☁ This was where the rest of the toons shine. Unregulated street racing was a thrill like no other, and one that you and Cosmo ran like an iron fist. You were a dangerous duo, and one of you was always racing, even if your standings were in a duo. It was a risky move, putting your name alongside Cosmo's knowing that if one of you took a loss, it would reflect on the other poorly, but neither of you truly thought of it that way. You both simply enjoyed racing with each other.

☁ Taking a break from being the person giving the care to being the one in the vehicle was like a shot of ecstasy, especially when you knew the other was waiting at the finish line. The lack of rules, the refusal of etiquette, the thrill of tickling your own mortality was a whole new rush, so unlike the one in monitored tracks.

☁ It was probably an addiction at point. Not that it would stop you. You mused to yourself, shifting gears as Gigi's vehicle came into view in your rearview. She was an infamous cheater, playing dirty with sly tricks and illegal moves up her sleeve. Well...Illegal in the clean tracks.

☁ "Don't get cocky now, doll." Cosmo's voice rings in your ears, waiting for you at the finish line. " If you die who else will warm my bed?"

☁ You scoff at this, jerking your gear shift and slamming the brakes, whipping your wheel to one side just as Gigi attempts a pit maneuver. Her vehicle skids upon not meeting her target and instead crashes into Shrimpo's, taking both of your closest tails out in one one move. You easily commit to the turn, continuing to move your gearshift before punching the gas, crossing the finish line as the reigning champion.

☁ You cut the engine to your ride, taking your keys as you step out to where Cosmo is already waiting. His arms are crossed as he scans your form up and down, a predatory smirk spreading on his features. You return the look, walking up to him with a small preen in your features. "Cocky enough for you?"

☁ He snickers at this, wrapping an arm around your lower back as the other cars skid to a stop, several cries about your win echoing out. "You're awful. You know that? What would Mr. Novalite say if he say?" that dodgy drift?" He teases, his other hand coming up to shake your chin lightly.

☁ "Oh, no, whatever shall I do." You spit back sarcastically. "Please, those racers have the rule books shoved so far up their ass they don't notice much else." You waved your hand before swatting at Cosmo's. "They'd probably faint at the sight of the Milky Way."

☁ The Milky Way was the name of the endless routes, trails and roads that made up what was essentially the city turned raceway. It had numerous shortcuts, every changing obstacles and required your instincts and reaction times to be sharp and pointed.

☁ It was your favorite track you've ever raced.

☁ Cosmo cackled at you before shaking his head, swooping in to press a heated kiss to your lips in his own congratulations as the rest of the crews who weren't racing trotted up. Praises were sung your way as Cosmo pulled away, even if his arm stayed anchored to your waist.

☁ And that was simply the start of the night. You all raced and partied to your heart's content, breaking up the night hours before the break of dawn as Cosmo drove you to his place. You weren't sure exactly what you would call the relationship you had with the cake roll, but you knew you liked it, and you were sure he liked it too.

☁ While it was mostly sharp quips and heated kisses on the raceway, it was also the softer, quieter moments in the sunrise's light, basked in golden rays as you watched him move around his kitchen effortlessly, perched on the counter with your morning drink of choice.

☁ It was serene and soft, and a good break from the constant rise of stress you put yourself under.

☁ You had fallen into a rhythm actually with Cosmo, where he'd do breakfast and you'd drive you both to work. He was testing the waters of moving in together with you, which made your heart flutter in all sorts of ways, but would stay put until he outright asked.

☁ "I'm just saying, imagine how much easier our routine would be." Cosmo shrugged behind you, pushing the door open so you could walk through.

☁ "I'm just saying, that's not asking." You throw back, readjusting your Novalite jacket. "You suck at asking questions."

☁ Astro is already waiting by his car when you and Cosmo walk up, leaning on his car before noticing you. He perks up right away, smiling at your approaching form- even if it wavers when he spots Cosmo. "Seedly crew Chief, you look a little lost." The celestial teases, even if it's tight like a stretched rubber band.

☁ Cosmo grimaces as the hand he's kept on your hip tightens it's hold momentarily. "Astro. Always a pleasure to see you." You give them both a look at the tense atmosphere, scrunching your nose as you roll your eyes.

☁ "I'll see you later today, Cos-"

☁ "Milky way CHAMPION!" Is cried out behind you, making you jolt as yourself, Cosmo and Astro whip around to face Finn and Boxten, who are beaming at you. "Gigi came in pissed today! How'd the race go?!"

☁ Finn, bless his heart, is either blissfully ignorant or being the biggest asshole as he doesn't acknowledge your desperate attempts to cut the attention. "We missed out last night, but heard you out maneuvered her and sent her into Shrimpo!"

☁ You bury your face in your hands, groaning as Astro takes in the new information. He hadn't known you were a racer. He would've loved to go against you. By the sounds of it, you were good. He knew you knew what you were talking about, has seen it in person and thanks the stars he was able to get you on his team before the others even heard about you.

☁ But to hear you raced last night? The only race yesterday was his where he and Sprout had spent the majority of the time trying to take out the other's tires before Shelly snuck in and took the win. And he'd never even heard of the Milky Way outside of space. Was it a track?

☁ "Finn." Cosmo cuts in, making a swift motion across his neck and making the fishbowl clamp his mouth shut, eyes finally spotting Astro. He looked like he swallowed a lemon at the sight. "Hey! Mr. Novalite- funny....Funny jokes we say here!"

☁ Astro had to hide a snicker behind his hand at the pure fury written on your features. It was a good laugh in all honesty, watching Finn try to repair the damage he'd done before Boxten was pulling him off to return to Shelly's team to get her own vehicle prepped.

☁ "Champion, huh?" Astro had to tease, watching you drag your hands down your face. Cosmo was still there, his sharp eyes locked onto Astro as if daring him to say something more.

☁ "It's nothing." You cut off any more talk of the topic, moving to your toolbox and pulling open one of the draws. "You said your brakes were acting up?"

☁ With a glance to Cosmo, Astro stubbornly keeps his mouth shut until the cake roll scoffs. "Seriously? I'm not gonna go run and tattle on you. If your brakes are fucked, get 'em fixed."

☁ Nothing. Cosmo grunts at this, throwing his hands up with a "Why do I bother-" before he turns on his heel and makes his way to the Seedly garage. You watch him with a small upturn in your lips, committing the image to memory, before turning back to your tool box. "So, brakes?"

☁ "They shook. I didn't like it. What were they talking about?" Astro watches you pull out your little board with wheels, laying back on it as the car is raised enough you can get under it.

☁ You look at him for a long, heavy moment before moving under the vehicle. "The Milky way is a...less then regulated track. Some of the guys and I go out and race it."

☁ "...And you win." It's not a question, it's a statement that sits in your mind and burns the edges that touch it. "I won last night."

☁There's the shake of a hand grabbing the end of your board and pulling, nearly blinding you with the light if not for Astro's fat head. He stares at you, eyes deep and set as you raise a brow at him. He was a nice enough guy and you enjoyed spending time with him. At times, his laugh was enough to make butterflies light up your stomach.

☁ "I want to see." He says plainly. making you raise a brow. "You want to see a bunch of amateurs play go-kart?" It was a far cry from that, but you'd be damned before telling him that.

☁ "I want to watch you have fun." He remedies, making your mouth run dry. You stare at him long and hard, much in the same manner he's staring at you before groaning.

☁ "If you call the cops, I'm hitting you with my car. Cosmo and I are scheduled for Thursday night. Be there or don't, I don't care. I'll text you the address." You acquiesce at last, returning to your job. Astro waits until you're cursing at something you find before punching the air, absolutely ecstatic at the invitation. When the text comes in with the time and a little "See you there <3~" he nearly faints.

☁ Sprout ends up catching him when he tries to leave training early to get ready and pries the plan out of him, immediately deciding he needs to come too.

☁ To be fair, Sprout had been watching Astro carefully since Cosmo came into the garage cursing about "The stupid fucking Moon" and he had known something was happening. What better way to get to the bottom of it then prying it out of Cosmo?

☁ Is what he would've done if he hated himself. One look at the furious face the cake roll wore and not even Sprout was brave enough to poke that bear. Astro was his next best bet. And as he's standing in the light of the city, in crowds of people who didn't look his way twice, he relished in the feeling.

☁ "So, we here to stalk your cute little Crew chief?" Sprout teased, nudging Astro who's cheeks lit up a bright blue. He mumbled some form of refusal, but Sprout knew. He saw how Astro looked at you, watching you, how you worked and how you lived. He lost count of how many times they were almost late to training because Astro saw they restocked your favorite drink in the vending machine and just had to get you one while you worked on the car. Or he was spotted hanging around you while you were under the car.

☁ Astro just needed to be around you, whenever he possibly could, which was quite amusing in regards to Cosmo's own attachment to you. Honestly, for all Sprout fawned over them, he was starting to feel left out. You and him had met a handful of times and honestly, he's surprised Astro could keep up with your sharp tongue and quick remarks. Sprout himself found himself scrambling to keep up before you were turning on your heel with a flip of your jacket.

☁ You were a spitefire little thing full of venom and vinegar. He always looked forward to conversations with you, and to find out you raced as well? He was willing to fight Cosmo and Astro. Or better yet, fight neither.

☁ He could take all three of you.

☁ "I could take them." He mutters, nodding to himself resolutely even if Astro gives him a look. "Please tell me you're not talking about fighting someone."

☁ "Not in a fight." Sprout adds and Astro has to look away, probably considering calling someone.

☁ They made their way through the crowds though, finding the finish line easily. You were there, past a barrier with your arms cross and smirk on your features as you watched the television broadcast the vehicle in the lead. It was a sleek, dark cherry chrome thing that purred like a kitten and held a steady lead with quite the gap between first and second.

☁ In bolded racing letters, a name popped up under the car. "Cosmo/Y/N Team".

☁ "No way is that Cosmo!" Sprout shouted, leaning on the barrier with his eyes wide. He didn't think his crew chief had it in him. The call caught your attention, making you turn to face them with the smirk deepening as your practically prowled towards them. "Wow, you actually showed up. Didn't think you would." You tease, making Astro's cheeks stain a much further dark blue.

☁ "I-Uhm-" Astro stutters before Spout is slamming a hand on his shoulder and leaning into your face. "Is this what you guys do in your free time?!"

☁ You nod, looking side to side before nodding your head. "Jump the barrier, you can stand with me. My personal guests." You grin, watching as Sprout immediately does as asked. Astro takes a minute further, but eventually does, landing beside you while Sprout gapes at the maneuvers Cosmo is pulling off.

☁"I didn't think you had it in you, shortcake!" Sprout cackles as you explain the race, what's on the line and how you and Cosmo are on a team, hence the name. You shrug at it, continuing to grin. "Just because you need a number of rules to race doesn't mean all of us do, Seedly."

☁ He guffaws for a second, his own cheeks heating up as you laugh. Astro only stares at you, feeling his own chest tighten before the first car is screeching to a halt. It's the same dark cherry one, with the engine cutting and door swinging open. Cosmo steps out, clad in a leather jacket and jeans that fit much too good on his frame to be fair.

☁ You immediately run up to him, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him down to a level to press your lips to his. His hands immediately find your hips, but neither Sprout nor Astro can find it in them to pull away.

☁ Watching you and Cosmo, in your element, unbeatable and a unit. Dominating in every way. It made their hearts flutter as they stare at you too, all sharp smirks and quipped words, looking like the main characters in every action movie they've ever seen.

☁ "I could take them." Sprout mutters, hands suddenly much more clammy then he thought they should've been.

☁ "Agreed." Is all Astro says, and that's all that needed to be said.

[memoiresofaneternaldreamer]

Drive-By

Pairing: The Fool! I.N x Mechanic/Streetracer! F.Reader

Themes: Smut | One-Night-Stand | Strangers/Enemies to ? | Crime Syndicate AU 

Wordcount: 3.1K

Playlist: ‘Drive’ - Charlotte Cardin

Smut Warnings: Explicit sexual acts - Car sex - Public sex (no getting caught!) - Hair pulling - Fingering - Quickie - Dirty talk - Slight degrading - Unprotected intercourse (Reader is implied to be on the pill)

This story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors do not interact.

Your father never expected much from you when it came to the garage. Not because he didn’t love you—no, you were his little girl, his pride and joy. But he was a fourth-generation mechanic, the last in a long line of grease-stained hands and roaring engines. When your mother had given birth to you, he had sighed, resigned to the idea that the family trade would die with him. After all, cars weren’t for little girls.

And yet, at ten years old, you had proved him so very wrong.

You still remember the moment you first stepped into the garage, the scent of motor oil thick in the air, the clatter of tools ringing like music. Your father had barely looked up from under the hood of an old Chevy, expecting you to run back into the house where your mother would teach you more ‘suitable’ hobbies. But instead of looking overwhelmed or out of place, your eyes locked onto something in the back, hidden beneath a dusty tarp—an old, neglected 1972 Ford Maverick, painted in a faded shade of Sky Blue.

It had been love at first sight.

The moment you pulled back the tarp, your fate was sealed. The Maverick wasn’t just any car. It was yours, even if you didn’t own it yet. Your fingers traced the rusted edges, the worn-down paint, and the cracked leather of the seats. It was beaten down, discarded, but you could see something no one else could. Beneath the grime, the Maverick was waiting for someone to bring it back to life. And that someone was you.

From that day on, there was no keeping you out of the garage.

You spent every spare second by your father’s side, watching, learning, mimicking. At first, he was hesitant—watching you warily, waiting for the moment you’d get bored and walk away. But you never did. You soaked up everything he showed you, from carburettors to crankshafts. By the time you were twelve, you knew your way around an engine better than most of his employees. By fifteen, you had taken apart and rebuilt the Maverick twice over.

Your father had stopped doubting you by then.

At eighteen, you graduated as a fully certified mechanic, top of your class, and returned home to the garage that had built you. The old men who once laughed at your father for having a daughter instead of a son now came to you for advice. You earned your place in the shop, and by twenty-one, you weren’t just another mechanic—you were the best damn one in town.

And you weren’t alone.

Your closest friends from high school—Jaehyuk, Keeho, and Heesung—had stuck by your side, each finding their place in the garage. Heesung, who had been hired by your father as an apprentice two years before you graduated, was the one to introduce you to the world of illegal street racing in the first place.

As your ex-boyfriend, now turned trusted tuner, he was the one responsible for ensuring your car ran smoother than anyone else’s. He had always had a knack for engines, but he had an even better one for pushing limits. It had been Heesung who had first taken you to your first race, who had put you behind the wheel and told you to drive. And that night, when you crossed the finish line first, something inside you had shifted. Along the way came Jaehyuk and Keeho. Dubbing themselves your “biggest fanboys”, they had taken it upon themselves to make you famous in the underground racing world. They handled your image, your brand, and your bets. They made sure everyone knew your name.

You weren’t just a mechanic. You were a racer. And in the underground circuits, you were untouchable.

But you didn’t know yet that someone else had been watching.

Friday night. Race night.

The sun was barely dipping past the skyline when you wiped your hands clean of grease, stepping back to admire the lime green Ford Shelby Mustang sitting pretty in the garage. Another job well done. The roar of the engine had purred to perfection under your hands, and now all that was left was the real thrill of the night—the race.

You tossed the dirty rag onto the workbench and made your way toward your office, where you already knew you’d find your three idiots hunched over your desk. The sight made you smirk before you even walked in. As expected, Jaehyuk was scrolling through race stats, Keeho was practically vibrating with energy, and Heesung leaned against the desk, his arms crossed as he studied the numbers.

Jaehyuk is the first to look up, his face splitting into a grin. “Boss is here. Took you long enough.”

Keeho, ever the animated one, dramatically throws his hands up. “We were starting to think you ditched us.”

Heesung just smirks. “She wouldn’t ditch us. She loves us too much.”

You roll your eyes, leaning against the desk. “What’s the rundown for tonight?”

Heesung let out a small chuckle but got straight to the point, as usual. “Stats are looking good. The only real contender tonight is Beomgyu. He’s still fast, still dangerous.” His tone darkened. “But you know it’s not just him anymore, is it?”

You sighed, rolling your shoulders before dropping into your chair. “The Syndicate.”

There was an unspoken weight in the air whenever their name came up. You weren’t afraid of Beomgyu. He might have been someone you used to call a friend, but that was before the Syndicate got their claws into him. Now? He raced for them, won for them—or lost, depending on where their money landed. And lately, ever since you joined the circuit, his losing streak had stretched far longer than he intended.

Jaehyuk tapped the desk. “Word on the street is the Syndicate isn’t happy about it. Their golden boy keeps taking Ls and making them lose money.”

Keeho hummed. “And they don’t like losing money.”

You lean back in your chair, unfazed. “I win my races fair and square. Beomgyu can cry about it all he wants.”

Heesung chuckles. “That’s our girl”

The rendezvous point for tonight’s race was just outside the city, near an abandoned electrical plant. As always, the night pulsed with anticipation. Engines revved, neon lights glowed off polished metal, and the electric hum of competition crackled in the air. The usual crowd was here—familiar faces, loud voices, the scent of burning rubber thick in the air.

You pulled up in your usual spot, the cherry red 1999 Nissan Skyline gleaming under the streetlights. As soon as you stepped out, a few locals came to greet you, all eager to see if you’d continue your winning streak. You made small talk, indulging their praise, but your eyes kept scanning the lot.

And that’s when you saw it.

A matte black Mazda RX-7 parked just a little away from the main crowd.

Your gaze narrowed slightly. Unfamiliar cars weren’t unusual, but this one? It wasn’t just the car—it was the presence it carried. Something about it screamed trouble. You lean over to Keeho, lowering your voice. “Who’s that?”

Keeho follows your gaze and frowns. “No clue. First time seeing it.”

That alone is unusual. Keeho knows everyone.

And then, as if on cue, the driver stepped out.

Your breath caught for a fraction of a second. The man who emerged from the RX-7 moved with an air of confidence, his presence magnetic. He was tall, lean muscle wrapped in leather pants and a form-fitting muscle tee, topped with a dark jacket that only added to his effortless allure. His jet-black hair was tousled in that perfect, just-messed-enough way, and when his sharp eyes met yours, there was an unmistakable glint of amusement.

Trouble, your instincts whispered.

He walked toward you, slow and deliberate, his gaze flickering over your car before returning to you. The way he smirked, like he already knew something you didn’t, made your fingers twitch.

“So you’re the one everyone’s been talking about.”

His voice was smooth, dangerously so. You tilted your head, crossing your arms. “Depends who’s talking.”

He took another step closer, like he enjoyed testing boundaries. “Pretty much everyone. Hard to ignore a racer who keeps shutting down the competition.”

You studied him. “And you are?”

“Jeongin.” He smiled, slow and teasing. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Something about the way he said it made it sound like he already knew more than he was letting on.

You weren��t sure if you liked that.

“What’s your game, Jeongin?”

His smirk widened, and he glanced at your car again, then back to you. “A race.”

You arched a brow. “That’s it?”

“Not quite.” He stepped even closer, his voice lowering, making sure no one else could hear. “Let’s make it interesting.”

You didn’t react outwardly, but you could feel the shift in energy. “Oh?”

His eyes gleamed with something wicked. “If I win, you suck me off.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t let your expression falter. His confidence was brazen, the challenge in his tone clear.

You scoffed, but before you could retort, he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to something even more suggestive. “If you win, though, I go down on you.”

Your pulse spiked, but you refused to let him see it. Instead, you tilted your head, giving him a slow, assessing once-over. “Confident, aren’t you?”

He grinned, completely unashamed. “I think you’re hot. And judging by the way your pupils just dilated, you think the same of me.”

Damn him.

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re insane.”

“That a no?” He was watching you closely now, waiting.

In that moment you have no idea what compelled you to answer him. Future you will blame it on 'temporary insanity’. But present you? Well, she doesn’t back down so easily.

You met his gaze head-on, then extended your hand. “Fine. You’re on.”

His grip was firm, his skin warm against yours. “Can’t wait to see how this turns out.”

Neither could you.

Your fingers flex around the wheel, your heart pounding in sync with the roar of the engine. Your car thrums beneath you, coiled and ready to launch forward at the drop of the flag. A few feet away, the matte black Mazda RX-7 sits in wait, its driver exuding the same still confidence, a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

Jaehyuk and Keeho are at the sidelines, whipping up a storm of bets, hyping up your name with full confidence. “Our girl’s got this! Put your money where your mouth is!” Their voices rise over the crowd, their faith in you unshaken. But Heesung? Heesung leans against your open window, his usual sharp gaze scanning the RX-7 before flicking back to you.

“I don’t know what that car’s packing under the hood,” he murmurs, voice low enough for only you to hear, “but listen—keep an eye on how he takes the turns. If he’s running a heavier engine, he’s gonna struggle in the tighter sections. This track’s got a couple of tricky bends, so use them.”

You nod, rolling your shoulders, grounding yourself. “Got it.”

He doesn’t move right away, gaze flicking between you and Jeongin. His unease is subtle, but you know him well enough to notice. He finally steps back, giving you space, but not without a final warning. “Be smart about this.”

You glance over at Jeongin. His gaze is already on you. As the race marshal raises their hands, he mouths something. It’s deliberate, slow, meant just for you.

“Let’s go, baby.”

Your blood heats at the cocky provocation, but there’s no time to react—the flag drops, and the world narrows down to the track.

The race is a brutal battle of skill and instinct.

Neither of you gives an inch. You’re neck and neck, each pushing the limits of your machines and yourselves. The wind rushes past, the neon lights of the city a blur as you manoeuvre through the track. Your tyres kiss the asphalt dangerously, each turn taken with calculated precision.

Jeongin isn’t just some flashy newcomer. He’s good—really good. But you’re better. Or at least, you should be. Every move you make, he counters. Every gap you find, he closes. It’s as if he knows your driving style inside and out, predicting your decisions before you even make them.

Frustration claws at you, but you shove it down, focusing on the race. The final lap looms, the finish line in sight. You push the Skyline to its absolute limit, feeling the chassis vibrate with effort, the tyres gripping for everything they’re worth.

The RX-7 surges beside you.

You gun it.

But when the line rushes beneath your wheels, the results flash in glaring neon:

A tie.

Disbelief slams into you. A tie? A tie?

Adrenaline still racing, you don’t slow down—not immediately. You keep driving, pushing past the crowd, away from the scene. You need air. You need space. You need something to release the frustration curling hot in your gut. But, of course, Jeongin follows.

The two of you don’t stop until you reach a secluded parking lot on the other side of the plant. The engine’s hum lingers even after you cut the ignition.

You’re out of the car in seconds, slamming the door shut as you whirl on him.

“You cheated.”

He leans against the hood of his RX-7, arms crossed, impossibly relaxed. That damn smirk hasn’t left his face. “You wound me, baby. No faith in my skills?”

You throw up your hands, exasperated. “There’s no way you were that in sync with me. Either you knew exactly how I drive, or you had some kind of trick up your sleeve.”

Jeongin just watches you, his amusement never faltering. The way he tilts his head, eyes running over you, makes you feel like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had. “Or maybe,” he drawls, “we’re just that in sync.”

Your frustration sparks hotter. You move closer, nearly toe to toe with him, fists curling as your breath grows heavier. But he—he is nothing but cool, calm, collected. Then, with almost no effort, he shifts forward, crowding into your space, and suddenly, you’re spun in place, your back now facing his car, his hands bracketing you in place with a firm grip on your hips.

“You know what this means, right?” His voice is lower now, threading through the night air like something dangerous. “We both have to collect on our bet.”

Your breath catches. His proximity is intoxicating, his scent, his warmth, the sheer confidence radiating off him. But before you can snap back with something sharp, his lips crash against yours.

It’s fire.

It’s reckless, all-consuming.

You lose yourself in it, in him, in the heat pooling low in your stomach as he grips your hips and pulls you flush against him, pressing your ass against his hood. Soon enough, neither of you are thinking about the race anymore.

There’s nothing romantic or even remotely coordinated about the affair. The adrenaline from the race coupled with your frustration at not winning leaves you a kind of wanton, desperate thing. Like an animal scratching at their cage to be freed. Jeongin, you note, is dealing with it much the same way. His lips have long since abandoned yours, instead choosing to trail a heated path down your neck, biting and sucking harshly on the exposed skin. One of your hands tangles in his hair at that, tugging at the strands as you feel each pinch of his teeth sinking into your skin. Your other hand is busy taking off his jacket, desperately struggling with the fabric and Jeongin’s own wandering hands.

He roughly gropes your chest, squeezing one of your breasts in his right hand, and pinching the stiffening nipple through the fabric of your bra and shirt. You let out a soft ‘hmmm’ at his ministrations, his touch slowly but surely setting you into overdrive. His left hand wanders under your skirt, roughly groping your ass before pulling your body even closer to his. Your skirt involuntarily hikes up at the movement, and your clothed core comes in contact with his hardness. Feeling the length of him so close to your centre, only a few layers of clothing separating you, you let out a soft moan.

He’s big.

A new rush of excitement fills you at the thought, and your body reacts to it. As Jeongin delivers the first, experimental trust, the friction is enough to pull a moan out of you both. “Fuck…” He whispers hoarsely against your neck, repeating the action. At this rate, the wetness pooling in your panties is growing uncomfortable, the ache in your centre pulsing to be filled by something. Someone.

You’ve never done this before. One-night stands have never been your cup of tea. But you have to admit that doing this, so out in the open with someone who was a stranger not even thirty minutes ago, is exhilarating.

Your hands leave their place in his hair to migrate to his pants, his jacket finally landing on the floor behind him. Your fingers shake slightly in anticipation as you undo his button and fly, the gentle pressure of your fingers against his hardness making him shudder. Jeongin, in return, roughly grabs the stockings you are wearing, his fingers easily rip the fabric apart at the apex of your thighs. You can’t help but let out a shocked gasp at his actions, but Jeongin is quick to shut you up, his mouth crashing against yours in another heated kiss.

You lose yourself in the kiss; his tongue fighting for dominance with yours, lips smashing against each other, teeth nipping at the plump flesh. It takes you a moment to register the feeling of Jeongin’s fingers pulling your panties to the side until your core is fully exposed and the wind gently brushes against your glistening folds.

At the first gentle flick of his thumb against your clit, your body shivers. “Oh…” You moan softly. Jeongin’s fingers move lower, passing through your folds before pressing against your entrance, gathering the moisture there. “Fuck, baby…” He groans out teasingly, his eyes searching yours. “Already soaking wet for me and I haven’t even properly touched you yet?” His fingers take the path back up to your clit, stroking and rubbing more purposefully now. “Yes…Fuck.” You can’t help but moan out again as you reach out to grab his biceps. The combination of his filthy words, his intense, unwavering gaze and his long fingers rubbing you just right, quickly tightens the coil inside you.

When his fingers retract from your clit, you don’t have time to complain before he quickly plunges two of them into your sopping hole, making you cry out instead. “Oh, God… Jeongin”. The sudden intrusion, although not at all unwelcome, makes you shudder, hips rolling involuntarily for more friction. Jeongin notices, of course, a satisfied smirk grazing his lips as he grounds out “Oh you’re a desperate little thing, aren’t you baby?” as he delivers another, more forceful thrust of his fingers. You moan out in reply, already at a loss for words.

He leans closer to you, finally breaking eye contact as he whispers hotly in your ear: “Don’t worry baby, I’ll get you off.” And he delivers. His thumb reclaims its earlier position on your clit as his two fingers continue their assault on your walls. It’s almost embarrassing how fast you feel yourself climbing towards a peak, your body writhing and shaking in pleasure. “I’m close…” you mewl out, desperate for Jeongin to get you there. Your core spasms around his fingers and he grits out at the tightness, “I can feel it… You wanna come, baby?” He goads. You shake your head violently. Yes. You do.

And then he stops.

In one swift movement, he removes his hand from your core altogether, the feeling of loss nearly enough to make you sob. “What the…” you let out breathlessly, your mind scrambling to figure out what the hell is going on. Jeongin just looks at you smugly, palming his dick over his pants with the hand that had just been inside of your cunt not even seconds ago. You open your mouth, half a mind to start screaming at him, but Jeongin successfully shuts you up again by grabbing your face and pulling you into another kiss.

You, however, are still very much frustrated from the almost orgasm, and pull away. Jeongin just pulls you back, a hand now tangling in your hair to keep your mouth firmly pressed against his. As you try and push him off you again, he tightens his hold on your hair, his fingers roughly grabbing the strands. The prickle of pain that shoots from your scalp through your spine is so delicious, that a groan slips out of you.

Jeongin wastes no time.

With one hand, he finally frees his aching cock from the confines of his pants.

As he grabs your hip roughly with his free hand, you feel his tip at your entrance, prodding, gathering your wetness before gliding up and catching your clit and you silently brace yourself. But nothing could have prepared you for it. Jeongin finally enters you with one, harsh thrust, bottoming out easily. The feeling is overwhelming, bordering on painful. You’re just so full. Jeongin and you groan out simultaneously at the feeling, your walls gripping him like a vice, sucking him impossibly deeper. He leans down to lowly whisper in your ear: “The only way I’ll let you come tonight is on my cock, baby.” Before gently sucking your earlobe into his mouth, gently nibbling the flesh: “And only when I tell you to.”

He starts up a brutal pace. It’s fast, hard and messy. Your hands brace behind you on the hood, muscles straining to not fall back. He’s hitting the spot that has you seeing stars over and over as he bites your neck and shoulder with low, needy grunts. Every wanton moan you release makes him go harder, deeper. Every rough touch brings you closer to that dangerous peak. “Fuck, you like that don’t you baby? I can feel your juices leaking out.” He grunts through gritted teeth. You moan again in reply, your voice sounding hollow, as if it’s not your own, when you reply; “Jeongin… Fuck… It’s so deep.”

“Oh, I know… You wanna come, baby?” He mutters. You nod feverishly, losing yourself (and your dignity) to the pleasure he brings. His thrusts don’t lose their pace as he brings one hand down towards your clit, rubbing your nub in violent circles. Your core starts to spasm around him as your moans become more frequent, and Jeongin knows you’re close.

He makes eye contact with you again, before he says the thing that finally drives you over the edge: “Come for me baby, show me how you take it.” As if on cue, a tsunami washes over you, threatening to drown you, and you let out a scream as you come. The sight of you coming is enrapturing, and Jeongin loses himself in the feeling. It doesn’t take him long before he’s coming as well, your pussy gripping him tighter than before, milking him for all he’s worth. He lets go with a guttural moan, cursing “Fuck…” over and over like a prayer.

It’s only after it’s over, after your breaths even out and reality settles back in, that Jeongin starts buttoning his pants back up with that same unbothered ease. He moves like a man with all the time in the world.

You fix your skirt as you jump off the hood, trying hard to ignore your ripped stockings, or the remnants of his cum seeping out of you and into your underwear.

You jerk your gaze up to Jeongin, who is now already stepping back into his car, smirk firmly in place. He rolls down his window and lilts smugly: “See you around, baby.”

The RX-7 growls to life, and before you can react, he’s moving, tyres screeching against the pavement as he disappears into the night.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him throw something out of his window, and you go over to pick it up.

You glance down at it, a smooth matte black card with swirling gold designs lying on the pavement.

The second you turn it around in your palm, you read the letters as a cold realization slithers down your spine.

The Fool.

You stare at the card, heart pounding. The Fool—the youngest, the reckless one, the wildcard.

And just like that, it all makes sense.

You had just slept with someone from the Syndicate.

A/N: This has been a long time in the making. I’ve put it off for too long, dealing with a lot of personal stuff, but I’m in a good place now and finally thought it was the right time to post the first chapter of this series. I’m really proud of it, hope you are too. 💟

Send me your thoughts - feedback/fangirling is always welcome.

(Collage created by me. Credits to owners of the pictures taken from Pinterest)

[bakuettes]

Catch My Drift 🏁 chapter 1

Street racer!bakugo x Street racer!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: cursing, douche bakugo, slight misogyny, alcohol consumption, drug use, illegal activities etc

Kanjozoku; The term Kanjozoku is derived from the combination of the words “kanjo” (meaning ring) and “zoku” (meaning group).

Kanjozoku primarily consists of young car enthusiasts in cities like Osaka and Tokyo who have a passion for speed and a desire to showcase their driving skills.

Osaka was the place to be. Not where tourists go to take pictures and try japanese cuisine, maybe pick up a few souvenirs from the large amount of little gift shops that littered the streets but where a community of young adults with the passion for racing congregate. The night was still young, the sounds of tires screeching against the cold pavement and engines roaring was heard over the heavy base of 2000s club music. Girls dressed in scandalous outfits mingling with the guys posted up next to their pimped out rides. You could practically feel the vibrations of the noise in your head.

Three cars lined up with the drivers sitting on the hoods of their prized possession. A bright orange 1993 Mazda RX-7 FD on the far left. The car’s color was comparable to an orange or maybe even the warm sunsets that would settle over japan. The next car over was a 1993 Toyota Supra Turbo Mark IV. The bright colorful lights that surrounded the meet reflected beautifully off the cars mustard yellow chrome. The third and final car was a looker. Silver 1999 Nissan Skyline GT-R R34 with royal blue detailing along the sides and on the hood. A royal blue flexivity rear wing with matching led lights underneath the body.

It was Bakugo’s baby. Spent years modifying and perfecting it. He was a skilled driver sure but having a car like his? Most would be intimidated to challenge him. “Yo Mina, let’s get this race going!” the orange mazda driver shouted. it was hard to find anyone in this crowd but said woman emerged from the sidelines with a confused look on her face. “Woah woah, wait a second.” She looked around the lot, once overing the lined up vehicles. “where’s your fourth at? i’m counting only three.” mina crossed her arms, unimpressed. the yellow toyota driver spoke up first “it was supposed to be joaquin but he caught the grave yard shift man.”

once you were scheduled to race it was a hassle to find new drivers, the time and place was set in stone. it wasnt that often when scheduled racers were a no show but then again many get caught racing outside of meets or their car needed more time to be repaired. It was a waste of mina’s time. she was the flag girl, not their fucking coordinator. “Na, y’all either find a fourth or you don’t race. How’s that sound? Times ticking boys.”

By standers erupted in shouts of anger and disappointment. they wanted to see a race, most of them drove well over an hour to be here! gas wasn’t cheap and neither was Minas time. Hearing the crowds complaining mina sighed and pitched them an idea. “Alright! i hear you guys, relax. How about this, why don’t i find y’all a driver and we settle this now?” bakugo smirked, nodding in agreement. he never said much but he also never needed to. his aura spoke volumes. “bring ‘em on.” he wasn’t nervous, he knew his talents and was confident. resting the palms of his hands on the hood of his car, he tilted his head towards the other racers, waiting to see hear their answers. “Anyone i want?” mina questioned with a grin that would give the cheshire cat a run for his money. “anybody baby!” orange jululis shouted, raising his arms to the side. cocky bastard. mina rolled her eyes and turned away from the drivers, pulling out her phone from her bra. there was a whole list of people she could call but there was only one person she knew who could end this race quickly.

she could hear the static from the other end of the phone. “y/n, you wanna race tonight?” it was quite for a moment before you spoke in to the speaker “i’m always down, send me your lo.” your voice was smooth like silk but sultry like a vixen. it sounded like you’ve been up for a while so mina didn’t feel bad for calling you so late. she knew you came alive in the night anyway. your energetic friend squealed before gathering herself together. “you got 5 minutes hun!” and then the line went dead.

it never took much convincing to get you out. when mina called you it was 12:15 am, meaning you only had exactly 5 minutes to get there. the meet lot was about 20 minutes out. you arrived there in 4, only a minute left to spare. the sound of you engine had heads turning (a certain blonde as well) as you slowly pulled through the crowd, careful not to hit party-goers. the hot pink body of your 2000 Honda S2000 was hard to miss. everyone knew who was inside and that fact alone made them scream louder. you never really cared too much though, it wasn’t like you had vocals like mariah carey. you didn’t have the ability to move like michael jackson. you were just a damn good racer and that was enough for them apparently.

all three racers turned their heads in the direction of the obnoxiously loud honda, tensing up at the sight. well, all except for one of course. bakugo had no idea why everyone was so fucking hyped. who was that? and why’s everyone acting like they’ve never seen a pink car?? “Racers!” mina yelled excitedly “here’s your fourth!”. your black stiletto boots were the first thing he saw exit the car. then it was a black leather hat. he glanced over at the others to study their reactions and they all had excitement swirling in their eyes. maybe even a hint of nervousness? bakugo didn’t have time to be sure because before he knew it, you were leaning back against the hood of your car crossing one leg over the other. “oh shit, it’s y/n.” you weren’t new to this, you were true to this. the air was crisp and cold, you probably should’ve brought a jacket because this top (if it could even be considered one) with this miniskirt wasn’t doing you no type of favors.

from the corner of your eye you could see a blonde headed man with spikey hair almost looking annoyed as he walked over to mina who was standing in the middle of the road. “no offense but i’m not racing a damn girl. you never said it would be a girl.” you rolled your eyes, who the hell does he think he is? a race is a race. why did it matter who was behind the wheel? you best friend looks beyond over this shit, she’s been annoyed her this whole night and she’s about to lose her patience. “you said anyone i wanted, i wanted her! stand next to your car before nobody races.”

“you scared spikes?” he turned his head to the side, watching you push yourself off the car and strut to the middle where he and mina stood. he sized you up, shamelessly checking you out. “what the hell did you jus call me?” he wasn’t scared. why would bakugo be scared of some princess nobody? “can you even drive with those heels on?” your outfit was impractical he thought. a miniskirt that just barely covered the expanse of your ass (not that he really minded) and what looks like a triangle bikini top. if you were to bend over then— no. now’s not the time to thirst over you. even if he did think you were hot.

“i’m just askin.. why wouldn’t you wanna race me if you weren’t scared?” you’ve dealt with his type before, cocky, thinks they’re better than everyone and so on. he’s got sharp red eyes with a piercing gaze. you let your eyes trail away from his face down to the hardened muscles on his chest. clearly well built and his black tshirt was doing nothing to hide it. “man whatever,” your eyes moved back to his hearing the sound of his voice. “i’m not doin this, find somebody else.” he wasn’t scared, he just felt that he could be using this time to race against someone on his level. why’s it that the egotistical men somehow always find you? you would’ve just let him go but you hated the feeling of being looked down on. he’s no better than you, he doesn’t even know what you have to offer. do you did what you do best, you uped the ante.

“15 grand.” you raised your voice a bit. silence fell over the crowd. “i’ll give you 15 grand if you agree to race tonight and win, that applies to the other racers too” you say to the other two drivers still next to their cars. that made him stop dead in his tracks. were you insane? you’re acting like that’s pocket money. fuck, he doesn’t know if he should do it. he didn’t need the money, but his sister did. he tries to help his mother out the best he can, this would cover at least two months worth of bills. gritting his teeth he turns around starting directly at you “don’t start to regret this when you lose ma.” got ‘em, you thought with shit eating smirk.

you walked past him, shoulder checking the man who’s name you still don’t know. he looked at you, staring at your ass as your skirt rode up with every step you took. you must’ve felt bakugo’s stare because your hands grab them hem of the denim and pull it down, throwing him a flirty smile over your shoulder. the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink. he quickly looks to the side, licking his lips attempting to play it off as if the whole meet did see the interaction. all the racers start getting into there respective cars, starting them up. mina struts to the middle of the street once again only this time with a checkered flag. her brown skin was glowing, the lights reflecting off the body glitter she wore.

“Racers!”

mina exudes confidence. you hand your left hand on the wheel, the other hand tightly gripping on to the gear shift. foot tapping on the gas a bit. you were high off adrenaline, you lived for moments like these.

“Start your engines..”

bakugo couldn’t help but stare at you. the look in your eyes. ‘s like you got off on this, the wicked smile on your lips doing nothing to make him think otherwise. he wasn’t fazed though, he had this in the bag. maybe even after he wins he could take you out but that was something he’d ask later, he needs to focus. the flag drops.

“GO!”.

and you were gone.

𝐀/𝐍!!: okay why was this way harder than i thought? 😭 please bare with me ik im not that advanced in writing. i also don’t know a lot about cars but i research by chapter. lmk how u like it so far and i promise to produce better work as time goes on!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Reverse engineers bust sleazy gig work platform

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/23/hack-the-class-war/#robo-boss

A COMPUTER CAN NEVER BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE

THEREFORE A COMPUTER MUST NEVER MAKE A MANAGEMENT DECISION

Supposedly, these lines were included in a 1979 internal presentation at IBM; screenshots of them routinely go viral:

https://twitter.com/SwiftOnSecurity/status/1385565737167724545?lang=en

The reason for their newfound popularity is obvious: the rise and rise of algorithmic management tools, in which your boss is an app. That IBM slide is right: turning an app into your boss allows your actual boss to create an "accountability sink" in which there is no obvious way to blame a human or even a company for your maltreatment:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

App-based management-by-bossware treats the bug identified by the unknown author of that IBM slide into a feature. When an app is your boss, it can force you to scab:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

Or it can steal your wages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But tech giveth and tech taketh away. Digital technology is infinitely flexible: the program that spies on you can be defeated by another program that defeats spying. Every time your algorithmic boss hacks you, you can hack your boss back:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/02/not-what-it-does/#who-it-does-it-to

Technologists and labor organizers need one another. Even the most precarious and abused workers can team up with hackers to disenshittify their robo-bosses:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#gojek

For every abuse technology brings to the workplace, there is a liberating use of technology that workers unleash by seizing the means of computation:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/13/solidarity-forever/#tech-unions

One tech-savvy group on the cutting edge of dismantling the Torment Nexus is Algorithms Exposed, a tiny, scrappy group of EU hacker/academics who recruit volunteers to reverse engineer and modify the algorithms that rule our lives as workers and as customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Algorithms Exposed have an admirable supply of seemingly boundless energy. Every time I check in with them, I learn that they've spun out yet another special-purpose subgroup. Today, I learned about Reversing Works, a hacking team that reverse engineers gig work apps, revealing corporate wrongdoing that leads to multimillion euro fines for especially sleazy companies.

One such company is Foodinho, an Italian subsidiary of the Spanish food delivery company Glovo. Foodinho/Glovo has been in the crosshairs of Italian labor enforcers since before the pandemic, racking up millions in fines – first for failing to file the proper privacy paperwork disclosing the nature of the data processing in the app that Foodinho riders use to book jobs. Then, after the Italian data commission investigated Foodinho, the company attracted new, much larger fines for its out-of-control surveillance conduct.

As all of this was underway, Reversing Works was conducting its own research into Glovo/Foodinho's app, running it on a simulated Android handset inside a PC so they could peer into app's data collection and processing. They discovered a nightmarish world of pervasive, illegal worker surveillance, and published their findings a year ago in November, 2023:

https://www.etui.org/sites/default/files/2023-10/Exercising%20workers%20rights%20in%20algorithmic%20management%20systems_Lessons%20learned%20from%20the%20Glovo-Foodinho%20digital%20labour%20platform%20case_2023.pdf

That report reveals all kinds of extremely illegal behavior. Glovo/Foodinho makes its riders' data accessible across national borders, so Glovo managers outside of Italy can access fine-grained surveillance information and sensitive personal information – a major data protection no-no.

Worse, Glovo's app embeds trackers from a huge number of other tech platforms (for chat, analytics, and more), making it impossible for the company to account for all the ways that its riders' data is collected – again, a requirement under Italian and EU data protection law.

All this data collection continues even when riders have clocked out for the day – its as though your boss followed you home after quitting time and spied on you.

The research also revealed evidence of a secretive worker scoring system that ranked workers based on undisclosed criteria and reserved the best jobs for workers with high scores. This kind of thing is pervasive in algorithmic management, from gig work to Youtube and Tiktok, where performers' videos are routinely suppressed because they crossed some undisclosed line. When an app is your boss, your every paycheck is docked because you violated a policy you're not allowed to know about, because if you knew why your boss was giving you shitty jobs, or refusing to show the video you spent thousands of dollars making to the subscribers who asked to see it, then maybe you could figure out how to keep your boss from detecting your rulebreaking next time.

All this data-collection and processing is bad enough, but what makes it all a thousand times worse is Glovo's data retention policy – they're storing this data on their workers for four years after the worker leaves their employ. That means that mountains of sensitive, potentially ruinous data on gig workers is just lying around, waiting to be stolen by the next hacker that breaks into the company's servers.

Reversing Works's report made quite a splash. A year after its publication, the Italian data protection agency fined Glovo another 5 million euros and ordered them to cut this shit out:

https://reversing.works/posts/2024/11/press-release-reversing.works-investigation-exposes-glovos-data-privacy-violations-marking-a-milestone-for-worker-rights-and-technology-accountability/

As the report points out, Italy is extremely well set up to defend workers' rights from this kind of bossware abuse. Not only do Italian enforcers have all the privacy tools created by the GDPR, the EU's flagship privacy regulation – they also have the benefit of Italy's 1970 Workers' Statute. The Workers Statute is a visionary piece of legislation that protects workers from automated management practices. Combined with later privacy regulation, it gave Italy's data regulators sweeping powers to defend Italian workers, like Glovo's riders.

Italy is also a leader in recognizing gig workers as de facto employees, despite the tissue-thin pretense that adding an app to your employment means that you aren't entitled to any labor protections. In the case of Glovo, the fine-grained surveillance and reputation scoring were deemed proof that Glovo was employer to its riders.

Reversing Works' report is a fascinating read, especially the sections detailing how the researchers recruited a Glovo rider who allowed them to log in to Glovo's platform on their account.

As Reversing Works points out, this bottom-up approach – where apps are subjected to technical analysis – has real potential for labor organizations seeking to protect workers. Their report established multiple grounds on which a union could seek to hold an abusive employer to account.

But this bottom-up approach also holds out the potential for developing direct-action tools that let workers flex their power, by modifying apps, or coordinating their actions to wring concessions out of their bosses.

After all, the whole reason for the gig economy is to slash wage-bills, by transforming workers into contractors, and by eliminating managers in favor of algorithms. This leaves companies extremely vulnerable, because when workers come together to exercise power, their employer can't rely on middle managers to pressure workers, deal with irate customers, or step in to fill the gap themselves:

https://projects.itforchange.net/state-of-big-tech/changing-dynamics-of-labor-and-capital/

Only by seizing the means of computation, workers and organized labor can turn the tables on bossware – both by directly altering the conditions of their employment, and by producing the evidence and tools that regulators can use to force employers to make those alterations permanent.

Image: EFF (modified) https://www.eff.org/files/issues/eu-flag-11_1.png

CC BY 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/