#fast x turbo

[samson-the-whale]

Fanart for @aninonimosstuff-blog TW

(I totally didn't do this like at 2 in the morning...)

Yippee trauma (my art isn't made to encourage bad behaviour and abuse this is just me giving characters silly trauma so please don't take it the rong way)

[aninonimosstuff-blog]

Hook up

Tw: suggestive content, partial nudity,scratch marks, a tad of blood.

You have been warned. Plus u shouldn't be looking at this if u are under 18 like tf

[dexstoner]

The little meow meows

(( Wir oc, Fast by @aninonimosstuff-blog , check em out!! ))

[mysticteenageturtles]

Wanted to share my humanized turbo and whiplash teehee x3

Also I love them sm

[sophmeeh]

K bonitos los novios x"3

[spookilysweet]

you know what, yeah I'm posting them. HEEHEE 😋

that 2hr video got ahold on me same as everyone but I've had this oc for like a year or so actually. ANYWAYS SILLINESS BE UPON YE

[shurisneakers]

part 2 dropping tonight besties

(turn on post notifications for @shurisneakersupdates if you want a notif for the fic!!)

[raurquiz]

#happybirthday @MRodOfficial #michellerodriguez #actress #fastandfurious #fastfive #furious7 #f9 #fastx #residentevil #retribution #DungeonsandDragons #HonorAmongThieves #avatar #girlfight #swat #BloodRayne #turbo #machete #BattleLosAngeles #Smurfs #TheLostVillage #widows #lost

[brahms4thrackett]

I am highly of the opinion wishful thinking that Something Else did happen on this night we haven’t seen, that really does seem to be a given the more I’ve watched this scene. If we take Aziraphale as an unreliable narrator (which we know he is given how much he left out of his resurrectionist diary entry) there is actually quite a lot missing from this minisode. The apology dance for one? I even feel like Crowley himself was a bit… dimmed? in Aziraphale’s account of that night. He doesn’t really have a lot of dialogue, he spends most of the time quietly watching in the background, as most of the action seems to revolve around Aziraphale as the star of his own narrative.

Anyway, back to the Something Else that might have happened. Something that may have led to 1967’s You Go Too Fast For Me moment.

Was it a kiss? Was it MORE? Did they almost get caught working (it) together for a second time in the same night? The fact that Shax says she’d heard they were a ITEM, not just working together makes me go Hmm, what would have given off that idea, since there was nothing really romantic, sexual or untoward in the theater fiasco to give that impression?

My HC is that they do get to a fumbling kiss or more, and either they get spooked, or Aziraphale looses his nerve… but given his heart eyes that evening this also seems unlikely, unless he really goes into Turbo-virgin mode and outright panics.

Hey, so...

Have you all noticed *how* Crowley and Aziraphale are drinking in 1941? And by this I mean... that they barely are? <wink>

Crowley has been drinking for millennia by this point. He gets drunk as Bildad the Shuite in 2500 B.C.. Aziraphale has been drinking since sometime prior to the scene in Rome, which is also when we see them drink together for the first time. *This* scene is 1941 so countless years and meet ups between Crowley and Aziraphale have taken place since and considering how these two drink together in other situations-- like how completely wasted they were in the "eleven years ago" scene in S1-- this one here in 1941 is *interesting.* Why?

Because friends, that is *one bottle of wine* on the table beside Aziraphale and I can still see wine in it above the label, which means what's currently in their glasses is less than the first half of the bottle... which means the glasses they are sharing now that Aziraphale just poured are their first drinks of the evening... and neither of them are really drinking much of it. That signals an intent not to drink very much at all-- the open bottle probably being plenty for the two of them. They're going slowly, without an intention to get drunk, but not really just to savor together a particularly interesting vintage. They don't seem to be noticing or tasting the wine at all. Aziraphale poured them both a good amount but not overkill but both of them so far in this scene just take cautious, *small* sips of the wine... and they don't need to conserve it, ok?

It's not the war. It's canon that Aziraphale has a case of Chateauneuf-de-Pape that he picked up in the 1920s sitting in the back of this shop at this very minute that he doesn't bust open until "Eleven Years Ago" in the future of S1 and Crowley is a bootlegger in this moment in history lol and also they're both literally magic. They could miracle wine from halfway around the world if they wanted to. There's wine to drink if they want to get drunk...

...and they both have silently agreed that they don't want to.

It is the *only* time that they drink together in a scene that we've seen where they have a mutual agreement to not drink that much. Even when Aziraphale *didn't drink*, he still got *food* drunk while Crowley was drinking in the Job minisode.

But when they're having a drink together in 1941, both of them are very clearly, by a kind of unspoken agreement from the vibes in the room, *not really drinking.* Just a little. A few sips that will lead to a glass or two a piece total, at most-- that bottle split between them would be a lot from the air of and the pace of them in this scene.

And I mean... forgetting for a moment that Aziraphale will get drunk without issue in other scenes, we all know Crowley, right? This Crowley...

In S1, part of *God's narration* lol includes that Crowley and Aziraphale had been drinking for six straight hours in the bookshop together in "Eleven Years Ago." Rome is one thing because they had just had just met up so we don't know how sloshed they got over oysters at Petronius' new restaurant (and would seem likely that they did) but in every other scene when they drink together, basically, they drink quite a bit and both of them usually wind up drunk, especially Crowley.

So why is 1941 different?

Because they're drinking like people who both want to mess around, that's why.

Yeah, people mess around while drunk and I'm sure the same can be said for any of the few Effort-curious angels and demons outside of these two but Crowley and Aziraphale are not a casual hookup to one another-- they're in love, they're best friends, and they haven't been together before after literal millennia of pining and yearning for it. It's not something that's happening while they're drunk. They want to be sober and for it to be special and the evening here in 1941 has really got everything lining up for a perfectly romantic night, if they want it to be. All the rescuing one another and little glances and now Aziraphale's asked Crowley back to the bookshop for a late night drink and they're both drinking like they want it to be tonight.

They're both silently telling one another they want something to happen by the fact that they're drinking with no intention to get drunk. They want to be present. They want to remember. They want each other's explicit consent so they're barely drinking the wine so that it's evident that if things get intimate, it's not because either or both of them are drunk, and no one has to stop over concern over that.

Aziraphale is looking at Crowley looking all dashing, unusually quiet for him, maybe a bit nervous and still hiding a little behind his glasses-- Hell's biggest lush taking the world's smallest, barely-there sip of that wine lol-- and is like how many more tiny sips do we need to take before I can crawl onto his lap...?

Aziraphale's like omg, the sex is going to be amazing... thank God I don't yet know in this moment that something-- like some Zombie Nazis, probably-- will stop us and we'll still be on trying to kiss one another 80 years from now...

[hamsterclaw]

Black Ice

Bangtan Christmas drabble 7 - read the rest here.

Min Yoongi only cares about three things. The thrill of drifting, his friends, and cars, in that order. Somehow, you've got under his skin. Part of the Drift Kings AU.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Street racer/mechanic! Yoongi, smut

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Min Yoongi knows loneliness. He knows the unrelenting ache of it, the way it permeates every aspect of one’s psyche.

He knows what it feels like to look for a connection that isn’t there.

When he was ten his father took him into work for the first time, and it was then, amongst the smells of engine oil and new paint and pinewood air freshener, that Yoongi discovered his first true love.

He pored over engine diagrams, admired the easy simplicity of every tool falling into its destined purpose, got used to his clothes being stained from tuning up cars all day long.

He’d loved every minute of it, and the truth is, he still does.

Then his cousin Yijin had given him a lift down Mount Samo one day, and 14 year old Yoongi had learned that there was more than one way to soar.

He learned to drive navigating the hairpin bends of Mount Samo, and although he’s perfected the art of drifting up and down it, could do it blindfolded a hundred times over, the thrill of it has never really faded.

He’s picked up a collection of friends over the years, all of whom love the adrenaline of street racing – not knowing what’s round the corner, trusting your own reflexes and instincts to save you when you can barely see for the blood rushing in your veins. 

Kim Seokjin, his oldest and closest friend, the chaebol prince who can put together a Supra’s turbo-2JZ engine almost as quickly as Yoongi himself. His sister, a corporate princess who makes Yoongi’s heart soften and the opposite happen to his cock. They’re the two people Yoongi would do anything for, not that he’d ever tell them that. 

Jung Hoseok, the gifted mechanic with a heart of gold and the sunniest demeanour Yoongi’s ever been able to tolerate, creature of the night that he is. 

Jeon Jungkook, the baby fuckboi of the group, a man with the looks of a god and the persona of a baby deer. Yoongi finds it hard to be anything but endeared by his earnest good nature and anything but amused by his swaggering. Maybe one day the kid will grow into the bad man he so badly wants to be, but Yoongi hopes not. He’s great the way he is. 

It’s been a while since Yoongi felt lonely, in fact his life’s pretty good right about now. 

And at this exact moment? It’s perfect. 

Yoongi’s senses are on overdrive as he swings into a hairpin bend on Mount Samo, tires gripping tarmac sideways. His foot taps the throttle, his hand on the handbrake just in case but he doesn’t need it, he knows the terrain so well his body’s reacting on instinct. 

Sideways on he can see Seokjin to his right, composed, barely breaking a sweat as his rear wheels scrape the very edge of the path, inches from the steep drop. 

Yoongi catches sight of himself in his own rearview mirror, teeth bared in a feral grin as he shoots out onto the final stretch, so fast there’s nothing to see but black. 

He’d normally stop, celebrate his win with a cigarette, but he’s got somewhere to be tonight. 

Behind him now, Seokjin’s headlamps flicker in lieu of a goodbye. 

Yoongi depresses the horn, a sharp short blast, and then he’s gone. 

***

Kang Yubin’s been supplying Yoongi’s father’s garage for years, and Yoongi’s been going to him for car parts since before he knew a spark plug from a catalytic converter. 

The Kang warehouse has an unassuming front in an industrial estate on the outskirts of Seoul. Yoongi parks outside the familiar glass door, can see the dim lighting filtering through the tinted glass as he approaches. 

He pushes open the door, stops, nonplussed. 

Instead of Kang Yubin’s steel-rimmed glasses and grey hair, he’s greeted by you. 

Half your face is obscured by a black face mask, your hair up under a baseball cap, but you’re definitely not who he expected to see. 

He blinks. 

Your eyebrows rise. 

‘Are you lost?’ you inquire, an edge to your voice that pulls him out of his surprised reaction and reminds him why he’s here. 

‘I was expecting Mr Kang,’ Yoongi replies. 

Coming closer to the counter he picks up on a guardedness to your posture, a weariness that you don’t bother to hide. 

‘I’m his granddaughter,’ you say, brief. ‘I’m guessing you didn’t just come here to stare at me, what do you want?’ 

‘Spark plugs – I have a —’ Yoongi breaks off as you get up. 

‘I know who you are, and I know what car you drive. Stay here and I’ll get you your stuff.’

You disappear behind a door, return in minutes with a cardboard box. 

You pull a box-cutter out of a desk drawer, slit the masking tape, pull the flaps up. 

‘Feel free to take a look,’ you say, looking at him. 

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to verify that they’re what he needs. 

‘How do you know who I am?’ he asks, as he pays. 

There’s a faint spark in your eyes, a flicker so quick he wonders if he’s mis-read it. 

‘My grandfather said you were due around this time.’ 

You nudge your shoulder vaguely in the direction of the screen to your left, a view from the camera overlooking the front of the warehouse. ‘Not many people drive a car like that.’ 

You take his money, nudge the box in his direction. 

‘Pleasure doing business, Min Yoongi. I’ll give my grandfather your regards.’ 

You’re already looking back down at your phone like you’ve dismissed him. 

Yoongi picks up the box, casts another glance at you, and leaves. 

He’s still thinking about you when he reaches home. 

***

Yoongi’s concentrating so hard on the engine in front of him that he barely hears Seokjin approach. 

‘Dinner?’ asks Seokjin, eyes flicking over the V configuration of the 8 chrome cylinders in the custom Nissan with interest. 

Yoongi leans back, massages the crick in his neck from leaning over. 

‘Yeah. Quick though, the client wants a rush on this.’ 

They exchange a look. 

‘More money than sense,’ Seokjin says, critical. 

‘Pays the bills,’ Yoongi counters. 

They have similar opinions about rich clients who want their supercars tuned up. It’s rare that a client’s got the ability to do justice to the horsepower under the bonnet of the flashy exteriors. 

Yoongi shrugs, goes to wash his hands. 

‘Is your sister coming?’ he asks. 

Seokjin’s still admiring the engine. ‘Not tonight. Jimin’s in town,’ he says. ‘There’s a race later, if you change your mind. I’m meeting Jungkook after dinner.’ 

‘Is he still sulking over Mijin?’ Yoongi asks, falling into step beside Seokjin. 

There’s no need to confirm where they’re going, they always stop at a tiny restaurant run by an elderly woman who seems utterly unimpressed by their good manners but makes the best broth in town. 

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but his tone is sympathetic. ‘You know how it is. People never expect him to be as soft as he really is.’ 

Yoongi nods. ‘Tell him if she can’t appreciate him she’s the one missing out.’ 

Seokjin snorts. ‘Tell him yourself, he’ll love it. Are you coming to Seulgi’s party?’ 

It’s rare that Yoongi goes out at night, he’s busy and he does his best work at night time, both in the workshop and on the streets, but he’d promised Seokjin he’d go. 

‘Next week?’ he asks. 

Seokjin nods, pushes open the door to the restaurant. 

‘Yeah, don’t forget.’ 

***

Seulgi is a friend of Seokjin’s, they’d dated briefly, years back, but it hadn’t worked out. 

She greets Seokjin enthusiastically at the door, the pink flush on her cheeks deepening as Seokjin gives her an affectionate hug. 

She beams at Yoongi, and he smiles back because he’s not proof against her cheerful nature. 

It’s how he became friends with Hoseok, after all. 

‘Drinks, let me get you drinks,’ Seulgi cheers, leading them into her kitchen. 

Seokjin’s swept away by Seulgi and her friends, he’s always been a popular guy. He shoots Yoongi a look as he’s pulled into the lounge, which Yoongi pretends not to see. 

He lifts his cup to his lips, decides to go outside for a bit. 

The deck outside has a few scattered people, mostly couples, some groups. 

Yoongi leans against the wall, looks around idly. The throbbing bass of the music feels like a heartbeat. The night is cold and crisp, the skies clear, but there aren’t any stars visible in Seulgi’s backyard. 

He lets his mind wander to his next project, restoring a classic Toyota for a friend from the circuit. He’ll need parts. 

He wonders if you’ll be behind the counter when he next goes to the Kang warehouse. Then he’s straightening up, unsure if he’s manifested you into reality. 

He’s never seen your full face, but he’d know your eyes anywhere. 

You’re standing across the deck, looking straight at him, coat open over a dress that shows a hell of a lot more than the hoodie and sweats you had on the last time he saw you. 

For the first time tonight, Yoongi feels a prickle of interest. 

He’d known you’d be beautiful, there’d been something about the way you carried yourself.

You’re still looking at him. 

Yoongi walks over. 

‘Who’s manning the warehouse?’ he asks, when he gets close enough. 

You tilt your head. ‘Are you really so concerned about my family business, Min Yoongi?’ 

There’s a mocking note in your voice, Yoongi finds he likes it. 

‘You have the best quality parts,’ he says. 

Your smile blooms over your face, making your eyes bright. ‘I knew there was a reason my grandfather liked you.’ 

Yoongi nods to your dress. ‘You look pretty.’ 

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘You look pretty too.’

Yoongi can feel his lips curving. Are you flirting with him? Seems like you are.

He’s all for it.

You’re raising your cup now, taking a sip.

In the night time lighting, your lips glisten with moisture and whatever lipstick you’ve got on, making him wonder what they’d look like around his cock.

You eye him like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

Yoongi says, ‘Do you like cars? Want to see mine?’

***

You’ve got your legs either side of his torso, your ass bouncing in his lap, and Yoongi’s front seat’s reclined all the way to make room for you to ride him.

The lines of your beautiful body are reminiscent of a triumph of masters of Italian design. Long smooth thighs, tightening around him with every rhythmic thrust. 

The curves of your breasts, bouncing right in his face.

The long line of your neck, head thrown back, the pulse in your throat fluttering as he holds your hips so he can fuck you back, fuck up into your sweet warmth.

His cock fits inside you like he was made for you, and god fucking damn, you feel so good around him he’s on a hair trigger.

Yoongi cups the back of your head, tugs you down so you’re close. Goosebumps prickle your flesh as he tells you how good you are.

Your eyes close as he kisses your bare neck, flicks his tongue against your skin.

You had been whimpering steadily as your arousal dripped down onto him, soaking his balls, pooling at the base of his cock, and as Yoongi picks up the pace he’s gratified by the hitch in your breathing.

Yoongi’s always been damn good at helping his partners find their pleasure, and he’s sure as hell not going to stop now.

Your breasts are still in his face, half out the low neck of your dress, chest heaving.

Yoongi rubs his thumb over the outline of your hardened nipple, and you cry out, muffled with your mouth against his skin but still loud enough to make his ears ring.

His balls tighten up even more as your walls flutter around him, and Yoongi would know you were coming even if you hadn’t gasped it.

God, you’re so sweet and sexy he’s lost.

He can feel your panting breaths against his neck, the weight of your warm body as it goes lax after your peak, the sweet grip of your cunt taking in everything he has to give you as he releases, a pulse of pleasure so intense it sends shockwaves through his skin.

Yoongi’s floating, and like reaching the summit of Mount Samo, he immediately wants to do it again.

You’re looking at him, lips still so swollen and pretty his spent cock gives a residual throb inside you.

‘Like my car?’ Yoongi asks. It’s stupid, but it makes you laugh and he’ll be as stupid as you like if it makes you sound like that.

Your chin lifts, and you say, ‘It’s all right.’

The flash of merriment in your eyes gives you away.

Yoongi laughs. ‘Maybe next time we can get the car started and I can actually take you somewhere.’

‘I don’t know,’ you tease. ‘Are you a good driver?’

Yoongi reaches out, tucks the lock of hair that’s fallen over your eye behind your ear.

‘Let’s find out,’ he says. ‘Where do you want to go?’

***

Yoongi’s thinking about you the next morning when he wakes up. He’d ended up taking you back to your place, where you’d kissed him sweetly at the door and bid him goodbye like a promise to see him again. 

His phone rings and he’s still got you on his mind, so it takes a second for him to regroup. 

‘The maknae needs help,’ Seokjin says, no preamble. ‘I’m going to swing by yours, be there in ten.’ 

Yoongi hangs up, wonders what the hell Jungkook’s got himself into this time. 

By the time Seokjin arrives, Yoongi’s had time to bolt coffee and change, but Seokjin still raises a brow as he swings into the passenger seat. 

As always, Seokjin’s impeccably dressed, dark hair swept back from his forehead like he’s going to his own fucking wedding instead of about to deal with some shit that’s going down. 

Yoongi suppresses a yawn, tugs his beanie down over his brow. 

‘What’s going down with JK?’ he asks. 

Seokjin cuts off another car so smoothly they’re halfway down the intersection before the irritated horn blares. 

‘Remember that race the other day? Jungkook beat Seungho fair and square, I was there.’ 

Yoongi groans. ‘The fuck. I thought we weren’t going to race that fragile asshole anymore.’ 

Seokjin glances in the rearview. ‘The maknae was still hurting over Mijin, I thought an easy win might make him feel better.’ 

‘So what’s Seungho done?’ 

‘Brought in the big guns,’ Seokjin says grimly. ‘Called in some guys from Hongkong. JK’s with them now.’ 

Now Yoongi’s fully awake. ‘Should’ve taken my car instead of this piece of shit,’ he says. 

Seokjin just laughs. ‘Don’t worry about my car, Yoongi. Maybe think of a way to hide that big–ass hickey on your neck.’ 

‘Suck my dick,’ Yoongi says, like they’re 16 again. 

‘Looks like someone already did,’ Seokjin returns. 

***

Yoongi parks up outside the Kang warehouse, pushes open the door. 

You look up from your phone. Your face mask is off, so Yoongi has the privilege of seeing the way your lips curve in a smile. 

‘There’s been a shipment of fuel injectors,’ you say. ‘Want to take a look?’ 

Yoongi stops just in front of the wooden half-panel that separates you from him. 

He tilts his head. 

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Also, I took my friend’s Honda for a spin today, I’ve got a list.’ 

He smooths out the piece of paper he’s got folded in his pocket, places it on the counter. 

You pick it up, get up. ‘I’ve got you.’ 

Yoongi runs a hand over the hickey over his neck. ‘I’ve been taking shit all day, about this,’ he adds. 

‘Yeah?’ you ask, but you don’t seem the least bit contrite. ‘You did your share of marking, Min Yoongi.’ 

Yoongi asks, ‘What time do you get off?’ 

You’re about to answer when the door opens. 

Yoongi turns and tenses immediately. 

Fucking Shin Seungho. 

‘You following me?’ he asks mildly. 

Seungho scoffs, doesn’t deign to reply. 

‘I’m collecting an order,’ he says to you. 

Your face mask is back on, your face carefully blank. ‘Sure, what’s the name?’ 

When you go into the back to collect it Seungho turns to Yoongi. 

Yoongi concentrates on the silkscreen of a cat on the wall behind the counter. 

He can feel Seungho’s eyes on his face. 

Just try it, fucker. 

The fact was, he’d pushed Seokjin’s Honda to its limits beating Seungho’s friends today, and although the adrenaline’s ebbed, there’s a thin streak still running through his bloodstream, and he’s a spark away from igniting. 

Seungho takes a step closer, and Yoongi turns to face him like he’s got all the time in the world. 

You return just as Seungho opens his filthy mouth. 

‘Looks like you’ve paid,’ you say, passing the box across the counter to Seungho. 

You pull out the box cutter, slit the package, open it up for him to check, but don’t put it down. 

‘Am I going to have trouble here, boys?’ you ask. 

Seungho barely looks your way, Yoongi’s always known the man lacks vision. 

‘Nah,’ Seungho says finally. He picks up the box, sneers at Yoongi. 

Yoongi blanks his expression. There’s no way he’s going to start shit with Seungho in front of you. 

The asshole’s not worth it. 

As soon as the door closes behind Seungho you put down the box cutter. 

The next words out of your mouth surprise him. 

‘Shit, you’re hot when you’re mad, Yoongi.’ 

Yoongi stares at you, flummoxed, then he laughs. 

‘Just when I’m mad?’ he asks. 

You shrug. ‘Take me out on a date and I’ll tell you more.’ 

‘How about right now?’ Yoongi asks. 

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Let’s go.’ 

***

As your grip on his hair loosens, Yoongi lifts his mouth from your cunt, swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Helps you tug your panties back up, smooths your skirt back down over your thighs. 

He notices you’ve still got his cum in the corner of your lips. As he watches, you flick your tongue out, lick delicately. 

His cock stirs with interest, and you act like you know it. 

‘More later?’ you ask. 

‘Yeah. After I win.’ 

Yoongi reaches over to help you with your seatbelt, arranging it across your chest, between your breasts, securing it. 

You lean forward and kiss him as the belt clicks into place. 

Yoongi starts the engine, turns the heating back on because he’s noticed your hands get cold easily. 

‘I can drop you off at home before the race,’ he offers. ‘Come see you after.’ 

‘I want to see you drive,’ you say.

Yoongi wouldn’t say it, but he’s pleased. He knows he’ll keep you safe, it’s a circuit through the city outskirts he’s done a million times, and he’s looking forward to you meeting Seokjin and Hoseok and Jungkook. 

He flicks on the lights, rolls into oncoming traffic. Heads North. 

By the time he pulls up to the starting line there’s the usual crowd gathered. He parks up next to Seokjin and Hoseok.  

In his rearview he can see JK surrounded by people. He’s lost the sad puppy air he had for a few weeks whilst he was pining after Mijin. The kid’s going to be all right, not that Yoongi’s ever had any doubt about that. 

Engines all around him are starting up, a deafening series of rumbles. 

Beside him, Seokjin waves, and Hoseok smiles so brightly it’s blinding. 

The flag waves, and Yoongi accelerates. 

Checks on you in the rearview, and you’re as pretty as he remembers. 

Min Yoongi’s spent a lot of his life looking for connection, and by his reckoning, he’s doing pretty well right about now. 

Lights flash by in a blur. 

Yoongi drives. 

Author note: And that's a wrap! Thank you for reading, hope you've enjoyed, here's to a brighter 2024. This time last year we were saying goodbye to Kim Seokjin, I can't wait to start welcoming the boys back again. Happy holidays to you all!

©hamsterclaw 2023

[dira333]

Unstoppable Force meets immovable Object - Tenya Iida x Reader

misunderstanding, friends to lovers - for @shoulmate for the Milestone Event Week 1

Tenya is big, even at five years old.

He’s very respectful, always, though not always as careful with his hands.

“Ouch!” You hold your head, wondering about the size of the bump that’s going to come out where he hit you while waving, chopping through the air.

“I’m so sorry!” Tenya has a lisp too, barely there but only for those who know. You think it makes him sound extra sweet when he apologizes, when he repeats the word sorry over and over until he’s forgiven.

-

Your favorite Hero is the Space Hero: Thirteen, Tenya’s favorite Hero is his big brother.

“Turbo Hero: Ingenium!” He tells you to write it on every possible occasion because your handwriting is prettier and you can do the flashy letters that you often see on merch.

Childhood is easy with Tenya around, with his big hand around yours when you have to cross the street and his shoulder to cry on when you don’t get the best mark on your test, his earnestness when it comes to studying and his stupidly cute guilty smile when you manage to convince him to go play instead, knees muddy and faces stained with dirt.

Even when you have to part for the school year, for all three years of middle school, it’s nothing but a pebble in your path, just a few hours spent apart that make the time spent together all the more worthwhile.

“He said what?” You will ask, sitting crisscross applesauce on his bed as he retells his day at school and he will humm and haw as you practice makeup on him, figure out that mascara can also be used as a weapon and glittery eyeshadow really suits him.

-

And then summer will come and you will run out to play until evening, do your best to convince him to come to the beach with you, to just laze around instead of trying to break his record of how long he can swim without a break.

You will buy him an ice cream cone knowing he has more pocket money than you and sometimes, when the heat is going straight to your head, you will ask to have a taste of it and put your lips where his had been, thinking what it would be like to kiss him.

Tenya is home. 

He is home in a way that hurts sometimes, when you want to be free, want to explore, and yet always come back.

When you take a step outside and look back only to find him waiting, yet never dare to open the doors you desperately want to peek behind.

- - -

“I’m going to U.A.,” Tenya tells you over the phone, quietly, because he should be in bed and you should be too.

“Oh,” you hesitate, looking down at your letter. You haven’t opened it yet.

You’re not sure if you want to go to U.A. too. You know what you want to do, work in Search and Rescue like Thirteen, but you don’t know if you can endure another three years with Tenya this close and yet so far away. 

Though, what other choices do you have? You think about going away, to America, or just across the border. Tenya would still be here, only a phone call away, even closer in your mind.

So you open the letter with a jackhammer heart, find the sentence that matters in the jumble of words and don’t know if you’re supposed to be relieved or overcome with sadness.

“I’m going to U.A. too. Support Class.”

-

Tenya is fast and you are sturdy and yet you want to go, always go, further and farther than you have before, while he could care less if the earth stopped moving today, if he never got past the step he took this morning.

To him, growth is not about distance. To you, it’s nothing but.

-

Tenya’s Class is the one that gets attacked.

And though you’re surely not the last one informed, it feels that way.

Training sure is hard, even more so when you need to beat the Hero Class to get a shot at switching over, so you pretend you’re not disappointed when you see him less and less.

But then the Sports Festival Happens.

You’re not sure what feels worse.

Watching Mei Hatsume and Tenya fight, the sheer absurdity of it all, and the rumours already going around… or realizing that even after all this training, you’re still not good enough.

Your Quirk might not allow you to move mountains, but keeping them upright should not be met with this lack of interest.

You wonder, not without self-loathing, if the world forgot too that Atlas was carrying it still.

-

Tenya is home, but the doors are closed and your key lies inside.

You hear about Tensei from your parents, not him.

Your calls go to voicemail, your messages are left on read.

Maybe, if you could fly or throw a stone real good, you could make at least one last impression on him before he forgets you for real, but all you can do, will do, is make sure that his house will keep standing.

Tenya might have been your home, but you will survive not being his.

- - -

- One year later -

“Hey,” you look up from the newspaper in your hands, the morning dew cold under your feet. 

For a hilariously awkward moment, you think it’s Tensei down by the gate, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun.

But Tensei’s still firmly tied to a wheelchair and this guy is standing upright.

“Hi?” You ask back, digging your toes into the ground.

“Can I- come in?”

“Sure,” you shrug your shoulders. “Mom and Dad are in the kitchen.”

You turn your back on him, which is a big no-no for every soon-to-be Hero so you turn around again, pinprick showers going up and down your back. “I’ll follow you in.”

“I’m here for you,” he announces, not one step closer to the front door.

“Oh.” Time freezes to a halt. 

It’s been ages since you’ve last seen him in person. In the hallways after the Sports Festival in your first year, maybe? 

Or that awkward last visit to his house when he pretended to be sleeping so his mom would send you back down to the living room? You heard that mumbling from the inside of his room, you’re not deaf.

He’s grown taller, yes, but there’s a roughness to him now, like one dragged sandpaper all over his features.

You’ve seen him on TV, fighting for his life, read articles about it too.

Your best friend, your very own personal Hero, Turbo Hero: Ingenium.

You always leave out the ex, thinking about him. It hurts too much, even on good days.

“Can I still come in?” Tenya asks.

“Why?”

He hesitates. “W-why?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I-” He swallows. You wish he would step out of the sunlight. You long to see his eyes again, despite hating yourself for it. Are they still as blue as the deep blue sea?

“You’re not in school anymore.”

“I switched.” You swallow the pettiness that wants to make him ask. “I’m at Shiketsu now. Hero Class.”

“Why?”

You shrug. “There was nothing keeping me at U.A.”

It’s a lie and you wonder if he knows it. That you gave up, in more ways than one.

“I heard you fought in the war,” he adds now, still standing at the gate, still blocking out the sun. He’s stubborn, that one.

You snort against your own will. “That’s not fighting.”

“It is to me.”

You shrug. “Well,” you hesitate. Screw your heart for being too soft. “Do you wanna come in now or what?”

-

“I like your Hero Name,” Tenya adds in the privacy of your room, his voice too quiet for a boy this tall. “Atlas. Like the Titan, right?”

“Hmm,” you make, trying not to notice how his knee just knocked into yours, or how warm it is, skin pressed against skin.

“I-” Tenya hesitates again. “I need to tell you something…. about myself.”

So you sit there, listening, as he tells you about a man named Stain and the revelation that there’s more darkness hiding in a kind man’s soul than the two of you could ever have imagined.

“But I’m…” Tenya closes his hand into a fist. “I’m good now, I think. Better, at least. Worthy to be called a Hero, maybe. If you… if you can forgive me. For how I treated you. I pushed you away because I didn’t want to…” Helpless he moves his hands around, narrowly avoiding your head.

“Sorry,” he says, but without the lisp you haven’t craved hearing as much as you do today.

You sit there, with your hurt and your longing, looking at him. Knowing that he’s not the only one with a secret, though his had been darker than yours.

“I want to forgive you,” you admit. “And I wonder if that makes me a pushover. Because I always forgive you, you know. Even when you eat the last of my fries or make me do extra laps.” You only realize you’re talking in present tense when he smiles, shyly, back at you.

“But I cannot go back to just being friends, you know? I have… feelings for you, Tenya. Have had them for quite a while. And I can’t just be just friends again.”

He nods, turns his eyes up to the ceiling as if the answer to all questions is written there to see.

“I talked about this, a lot, with… uh… Shouto and Izuku, my friends. Ochako too. I’m not an expert on this, by far, but I… never questioned, that we’d be together, you know?”

You sigh. “At one point-”

“No,” he interrupts you softly, “not like that, I…” His hand reaches out, rests warm and heavy on your knee, like a hiker putting his hand on the first boulder of a mountain. “Like forever. Together, forever, the two of us. I just… didn’t know I had to tell you.”

And it’s there, his confession, in the faint red on his cheeks and the softness in his eyes, how he can’t fully look you in the eyes, but can’t look away either.

And unbidden, a question comes into your mind.

What happens if an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?

There’s only one way to find out.

- - -

Turbo Hero: Ingenium. That is Tenya, tall, handsome, yours.

He smiles when he sees you at work, always respectful and always a little bit too much of a fanboy.

“It’s Pro Hero Atlas!” He whispers in awe when he watches, useless, as you carry buildings on your shoulders, put them back where they belong.

Sometimes, when he’s feeling petty, he helps you start arguments with Pro Hero Dynamight, just to watch you win - you’ve got the public opinion in your bag after all.

He’s very respectful, always, carries your bags up from the car and pretends not to notice when you eat ice cream before dinner.

But he’s very human too, forgetting his phone at home and his wallet at work, tends to try and shoulder his worries alone when he’s got you to share the load.

-

Life isn’t easy but it’s easier with Tenya around.

With his big hand around yours when you cross the street and his shoulder to cry on when you don’t get to save everyone. His earnestness when it comes to safety and his stupidly cute guilty smile when you convince him to take a cheat day, laze around and eat cake for breakfast, mix the flavors with a well-meaning kiss.

Even when you have to part for work it’s nothing but a pebble in your path, just a few hours spent apart that make the time spent together all the more worthwhile.

“Shouto did what?” You will ask, sitting crisscross applesauce on his lap as he retells his day at work and he will humm and haw as you try Cosplay on him, figure out that he can totally pull off a bold red lip with the Shouto-Costume you bought. 

-

Tenya is home. 

He is home in a way that hurts sometimes, when you worry if it will hold out against every storm, when you figure out another thing that needs renovating, replacing, not just decorating. 

He’s willing to work on it, leaves the doors open for the sun to come in, knowing you’ll be here for the rain too.

[s-u-g-a-r-rush1997]

What about hcs for king candy reuniting with the reader who used to be his partner during the turbo time days? :3c

This one nearly made me cry writing it.

Unfortunately, King Candy isn't as present as I would have liked to be since this focuses so much on the before and in between them reuniting.

King Candy Reuniting With His Old Partner

Pairing: King Candy x reader, previous Turbo x reader

Rating: safe for work

Warnings: none

 You and Turbo had been inseparable. You had your own jobs in your own games, of course, but every single spare moment you had was spent together.

You had noticed something off about him, of course - how could you not? You knew better than anyone, save for himself. But you brushed it aside. Jealousy was nothing new. Everyone knew how competitive he could get. He was passionate, impulsive. There was a fire in him that burned so brilliantly, but it burned out fast. This rivalry would pass, you had been so certain of that.

But it didn’t. He burned so hot he became the brightest thing in the entire arcade. All eyes were on him, just like he wanted. And then he died, taking two games down with him.

A service was held to mourn the lives lost. Games had been unplugged in the past, lives had been lost and mourned, but it was different this time. Turbo had introduced the arcade to a new definition of devastation.

You were the only one that mourned him.

It hurt so bad. Like the fire had spread to you and was eating you alive.

And to make matters worse, everyone treated you with suspicion after that. As if you’d suddenly “go Turbo” too.

It eventually got better. People treated you better, if only slightly. Your wounds never healed – how could they, when the man you loved haunted the arcade? –  but they stopped bleeding. Turbo was dead and gone, little more than a cautionary ghost story at this point.

You avoided Sugar Rush at first. Racing games reminded you too much of him. But eventually you caved. You missed racing. You weren’t built to be a racer, but even still you missed it.

You didn’t want to race. It was something you always did with Turbo. As much as you missed being behind the wheel, you didn’t want to open up old wounds. You just wanted to watch. 

But that voice.

You waited until after the race to approach. But anticipation buzzed beneath your skin. Little scenarios you’d come up with in your head years ago, just after his death, resurfaced. What if he had survived? What if he’d made it out and was just hiding? What if, what if, what if.

He sounded just like Turbo, but he didn’t look anything like him. The moment he saw you, though, you knew. It was him. It was your Turbo.

Before you could even speak, he was leading you away. Brushing off the other racers when they asked questions. He waited until you were both safely tucked away in the throne room of his castle, with no prying eyes to watch.

And he said your name.

Old wounds were ripped open. You were broken and bleeding again but you were relieved. He had made it out alive. All you could do was cry and cling to him. You held him so tightly; you were terrified he’d disappear again.

Why did you do it? Why did you stay hiding for so long? Why did you never come back to me? You wanted to ask him so many questions but you couldn’t muster the strength to speak.

He just held you back, whispering comforting words that never quite managed to reach your ears.

When everything had calmed down, he explained. No one would take too kindly if he had returned to the Arcade. And he couldn’t leave Sugar Rush now, as he wasn’t too sure if his disguise would persist outside of his game. And even if he did come to find you, he was certain you’d hate him.

But you wouldn’t hate him. You couldn’t. The things that he did were awful, but you were blinded by love, and your relief at having him back.

Knowing that he was Turbo was a liability. You couldn’t show familiarity. The other racers of Sugar Rush had never seen you before, and King Candy never left his game. It would be suspicious if you knew him.

So you’d start all over again.

It was almost fun, feigning unfamiliarity with him. Perhaps you moved a bit too fast with your charade. With how quickly you two jumped from friendship to flirting and little secret looks. But would it really be a surprise if the man you fell in love with after so long alone was a racer, just like the man you lost so long ago?

[aninonimosstuff-blog]

🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

Turbo x Fast.

Last drawing before I go to sleep.

[aninonimosstuff-blog]

HELLO????? THE TWO FIRST ONES?????? ITS LITERALLY THEM HEHEHHEHEHEHEHHE...

I normally don't get any Turbo X Fast fanart so I'm eating this up like a dog who hasn't eaten in a while OM NOM NOM NOMMM

THANK YOU FOR THE FOODDDD RRAAAAHHHHH

also also........

I'm pretty sure if she ever actually sees Turbo again.... She would risk it all no matter if that makes her a villain, I mean, she wouldn't even think that she is a bad guy for being with that idiot. After all, she just wants to feel loved...even if it's fake.

Canon ;3

@aninonimosstuff-blog (Fast oc)

My headcanon Turbo

Wee Turbo au

Ermmm... Turbo au, name shouldn't be mentioned

bugtastic!! bug bug sona

[thelovelyruin]

𝖇𝖇.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 : choso x fem reader

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓: a pretty girl with a fast car, and choso just can’t get enough.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 : smut, porn with plot, vaginal sex, praise, teasing, fingering, edging?

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙 : 4.2k

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗 : inspired by lyrics from bb by shygirl.

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖘 : hello lovelies, thank you so much for reading! racer choso is back by popular demand, i hope you enjoy it; if so, follow me for more. au revoir!

18+ MDNI ADULT CONTENT

I like bad boys, and I know they love me.

When Choso first saw you, you leaned against a GT-R, talking to a guy next to you, another girl in the passenger seat. God, you were sexy. You wore a black patent leather dress and red heels to match. You had your hair up in one of those claw clips and wore a pair of red shades, a gloss covering your lips as you smoked your cigarette. Your legs were on full display, a couple of tattoos here and there, and the chain that adorned your ankle didn’t go unnoticed either. He hadn’t seen you around before, but he was sure he would’ve noticed you out of all the girls who came out and took photos with the cars or stringing with their boyfriends. You were far too relaxed talking to the guy next to you, definitely not the behavior of someone whom you’d just met, so he figured he was your boyfriend. Unfortunately for him, Choso didn’t fucking care.

They say I've got a type; I just think they're lonely.

He walked up to the guy to start a conversation, shaking his hand, intending to use it to talk to you. He had to be respectful before he stole his girl, right?

“Hey, Choso.”

“Yuuji, what’s up.”

“Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“You’d be right, came out to support a friend.”

Choso pointed past him to the car; damn, she was a beauty. Looked full bolt-on, sitting on bags with a badass body kit, but the cherry red wrap really drew him in, presumably your suggestion to Yuuji.

“Fuckin’ nice, dude, what’s it running on?”

“E85.”

You walked around the car, interrupting their conversation. You leaned on the hood as you looked at Choso, him taking a surprised look at you and then back at Yuuji, who was currently chuckling.

“Sounds like she knows her stuff, huh.”

“‘Cause it’s hers.”

You smile at him and wave, bringing your cigarette up to take a puff again. Choso was in shock, smirking at the little joke both of you were trying to pull.

“Yeah, no way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means a pretty girl like you isn’t whippin' a ride like this.”

“Yeah? Why’s that? Give me the least sexist reason you have.”

Choso wiped down his face in disbelief.

“Now, fuck off while I still think you're cute.”

Choso gave a look to Yuuji, who gave one back that said oh well, dude. Choso didn’t have a lot of flaws, but there was one that was pretty damn big- his fuckin’ ego.

It's cold on these streets, or so they tell me.

“So race me, princess.”

“Whatcha drivin’?”

“Twin turbo MK5 Supra.”

You started laughing at him, taking your shades off to get a good look at him.

“At least make it worth my while!”

“Really? Then why not? You sound pretty fuckin’ confident.”

You get up from the hood now, throwing your cigarette on the ground and stepping on it as you give him a straight look. A Supra was nothing to sneer at, especially with twin-turbo, but it had nothing on your GT-R runnin’ 1800 HP.

“Because I know I’d fuckin’ win. I’d hate to beat you in front of everyone, considering I’m new here.”

“If you’re so sure, let me see you do it.”

You brought your lips up to his ear, grabbing his shirt as you raised to his height.

“If you insist, dollface.”

I keep the conversations brief; we ain't friends, but he'll see.

Your friend got out of the car as you told her what was about to happen. She chuckled and walked with you to a big group of people huddling in the middle of the lot, taking bets. She got their attention, and they looked at her with unserious faces.

“This fucker wants to race my friend. Start a pot.”

The guys got a good look at you and Choso, obviously not taking you seriously, which led to a $15K pot, $3K from Yuuji and Mai on you, and the other $12K on Choso. Yuuji drove your car to where you’d start on the line, Choso driving his. You two looked at each other as you let down your hair, passing the clip and jacket to Yuuji.

“Ready?”

“Are you? Might wanna lose the heels, princess.”

“No need.”

You two got into your respective vehicles, Mai standing between them to raise her hand as you revved your engines. Then, you were off.

Different faces but the road stays the same.

He fuckin’ lost.

You got out of your car with a smirk, putting your jacket back on as the group of guys from before praised you, practically kissing your feet, and just like that, you were $5K richer. Choso walked up to you as you headed back to the lot, walking alone as Yuuji and Mai gathered your prize money. He began clapping, causing you to turn around and smirk.

“Good job, you beat me.”

“Told ya so.”

You leaned against the car now, presumably reaching to pull out another cigarette as Choso put his arm up on the door next to you.

“You're pretty fuckin’ cocky, ya know that?”

“Yeah? Whatcha gonna do about it, sweetheart?”

Every man's a drilla till he's in the bed calling my name.

Choso slammed his lips against yours, putting his other arm on the car, caging you in. You returned the kiss, bringing a leg up to his hip, which he accepted, standing between them and massaging the skin there. The feeling of his hand gripping your ass sparked something inside, slipping your tongue in his mouth as his other hand found the back of your neck. Your dress was pretty damn short; anyone walking by would’ve gotten quite the view. He slipped a hand up your chest, groping your tits as you moaned, lips moving to your neck.

You can run and hide; I’m running game.

You brought your hand down his hips, pulling his phone out of the front pocket. With a little push, he stumbles back as you put his phone up to his face, unlocking it. You typed something, handing it to him as you brought your face up to kiss his cheek. With that, you turned and walked, laughing as you left Choso flustered, trying to understand what happened. He looks at his phone, your number staring back at him.

“In case your itchin’ for a rematch.”

Only one winner in this bitch, and I win everything.

Coulda been fucking with a guy; my vibe.

When Choso initially texted you, it was because he did want a rematch. But he also wanted to finish what you guys started the other day. You’d been on his mind as he was working on his car, working out, even when he was, you know. And fuck, you were hot. Constantly posting pics of yourself on cars, often with little clothing, you’d made a career out of modeling. Sometimes Mai was in them with you, you guys being pretty involved with the community. So, why hadn’t he seen you before? It was itching him; the car meets were city-wide, so you had to have come from somewhere else. I guess that answer would come as he got to know you.

“Plans later?”

“Depends, whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“That would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess so. Time?”

“5.”

“See ya then.”

“You got it, princess.”

He hung up the phone, grateful. He’d been nervous that you only saw him as the asshole you beat, but luckily, you liked him enough to let him take you out, and kiss you, and grope your tits. Fuck, he was getting hard.

You picked out your earrings as he pulled up; that backfire could be heard from a mile away. You wore a leather top and skirt today (if you could even call it that) and a pair of knee-high boots. As you walked up to him, you smiled and bit your lip, looking into his eyes as you crossed your legs. He had to clear his throat after gazing at your figure, too focused on the hem of your skirt to think appropriate thoughts. 

“Hey, princess.”

“Hey there.”

“You look pretty damn good.”

“When do I not?”

Fuck, you were on your cocky shit again. Choso opened the door for you, helping you into his low seat. As he got into the car, he got an eyeful of you, not even caring if you noticed. Which you did, bringing his chin towards you until your lips nearly touched his.

“Hungry much?”

“I am, actually.”

“So, you’re taking me for dinner?”

“You got it, angel.”

He smiled as he sat back, bringing his hand down to your thigh. Now you were pretty hot, but it wasn’t until you shifted gears for him that he was tempted to fuck you in his back seat; he was continuously arguing with his dick to calm down. You guys pulled up to a hotel, parking in the garage, too scared to let the valet drive his car. He guided you through the lobby and to the elevators and met with an attendant who requested your reservation. With a flash of Choso’s screen, she called the elevator, inputting a code and pressing the “RT” button.

“You two have fun!”

With that, you guys were brought up to the 30th floor. Getting off, Choso spoke something to the hostess standing outside the doors. When you guys pulled up to the hotel, you weren’t expecting to see the open restaurant atop it. Directed to a table on the overlook, the hostess thanked you both and called your waiter. Now, this was fuckin nice. The restaurant had ambient lighting, a fire pit in the middle of the rows of tables, and a view of the city below. You looked over at Choso, who was looking back and forth between you and the overlook.

“Nice rez.”

He perked up at your comment, getting the validation he wanted from you. He hated that you’d made him like this, eating up all the attention you gave him. The loss was enough to humble him, but the comments on your photos were not for the weak. And weak he was, for you, of course.

“Thanks. Whatcha drinkin’?”

“Well, depends. What’re we doing after this?”

Choso looked you up and down, eyes lingering on your legs as he licked his lips.

“Anything you want, angel.”

You blushed a bit, averting your attention to the waiter who had walked up to the table.

“Cosmopolitan, please.”

Picked one who was pretty; you know I like a pretty guy.

After a few drinks and a nice dinner, his gaze fell back to you, looking over the restaurant's railing. You were so fuckin' pretty. Cheeks flustered from the alcohol, your usual stuck-up demeanor a bit more relaxed, just like your lips fixed slightly open, almost in a pout.

“Did you enjoy dinner?”

“It was pretty good, thanks.”

You crossed your legs, smirking as you looked into his eyes. 

“So, what’s your endgame here?”

“Whatcha mean?”

“I mean, you’ve taken me out, been textin’ me almost every day for the past two weeks, pretty much-”

“I want you, real bad.”

He’d leaned into the table now, hand caressing your thigh underneath it.

“Is that so?”

His hand began sliding up your leg, fingers playing with the hem of your skirt.

“Want you to be my girl, that is, if you want to.”

His hand began to go beyond your skirt, fondling with the strap of your thong. Suddenly, the waiter returned, handing Choso his card back and thanking him for the visit. When he turned back to you, you were already standing, reaching out for his hand so he could lead you two back to the car.

“I’ll think about it.”

God, I don't give a fuck, but I guess I always do.

As you walked through the lobby, you got a text from Yuuji in the group chat.

"Some dude’s talkin' shit. Says you got lucky the other day with Choso, hadn't raced against a real ride."

"A real ride? What's that fucker driving?"

"He has a few builds. Don't know what he'll pop out with."

Mai opened up the messages, responding to the two of you.

"Okay, if he wants it, he can get it. What time?"

"9."

You checked the time: 8:23. Choso had stopped, seeing the look of irritation on your face.

"What's wrong?"

You showed him the chat, obviously irritated.

"No problem, we can swing back to yours and head over."

"There's not enough time for that. I'll have Yuuji and Mai meet us there with my car."

With that, you both walked to Choso’s car. He’d had a few drinks, so he was feeling pretty good. And by pretty good, he was fingering you on the way to the meet. A thirty-minute drive =  25 minutes to play with your pussy, and he was more than happy to take that option. The only issue was you were concentrating on changing the gears, putting your lives before your pleasure, but you weren’t gonna lie; it was a hard decision. A little tipsy, you were feeling loose, legs wide open to him so he could touch you, alternating between fucking you with his fingers and rubbing your clit. You were loud, too, moaning his name as his pinky held the fabric of your panties to the side so he could fuck you properly. He was in love with you, at least with how you rubbed your hips into his fingers, begging to cum. Unfortunately, that came to an end pretty quickly, getting yourself together as Choso pulled over. He wanted you to get a chance to cool off, kissing you as you fixed your panties and pulled your skirt back down.

As you pulled up, people recognized Choso’s car; that deep purple wrap was his staple. They didn’t expect to see you stepping out of it, recognizing you as the girl who beat him two weeks ago, taking a smoke before shit went down. You looked around the lot; you saw Yuuji and Mai hadn’t quite arrived, reaching down to shoot a text to-

“So, you made it, bitch.”

This asshole walked up to you as you sat on Choso’s hood, his arm unwrapping around your waist as he stood before the guy. Now, while it was admirable that Choso was ready to fight for you, you had to fight your own battles, and if this fucker wanted one, he was gonna get it. You pulled Choso’s arm back, walking up to the guy yourself. This guy was taller than you, not as tall as Choso, but you still had to look up at him as you spoke.

“You said a real ride, huh? What would that be?”

“Porsche 911 Turbo S.”

You smirked at the guy, laughing in his face as he looked at you, pissed off.

“Don’t make me fucking laugh! No, really, you should be a comedian! That damn twin turbo isn’t gonna take you far, sweetheart. That and your horsepower is just as short as your cock.”

The guy got closer to you, grabbing your wrist, making Choso almost fuckin’ pounce on the guy, but you raised your hand to keep him back.

“You talk a lot of shit, girl. Heard you came from the tri-state; whatcha doin’ down here? Tired of losing?”

“The opposite actually, got bored winning against all those dicks back home, so I moved out here for a challenge, which obviously, I’m not gonna get. Now, get your sweaty hand off me before I ash my Marlboro on your arm.”

He retracted his arm, face twisted.

“So, where’s your car bitch?”

“On its way, what, getting hard in anticipation? She is pretty damn sexy.”

“What, did you come here to talk shit?”

“Far from it, slow your brakes, and maybe I’ll let you cum. She’ll be here shortly.”

“Gotta wait to clap your sad excuse of a GT-R. Bet you’re shit with anything else; you pick one of the easiest imports to call your baby.”

Choso had had enough of this shit. He walked up to you and put his car keys in your hands, looking up at the guy with a look that said he was ten seconds away from getting his ass beat.

“Then race her in my car, unless you’re just a yappy bitch.”

If it isn't wrong, then I'm not looking out for you.

You both went to the starting line, Choso driving it up and doing the road test. As two guys from the group prepped your lanes, you looked at Choso in concern as he leaned against the car.

“Ready, princess?”

“What if somethin’ happens, I don’t wanna fuck up your car.”

“Trust me, if somethin’ happens, the last thing I’m thinkin' about is this car.”

“So, be my passenger.”

“That means you really can’t fuck up my car.”

You smiled at him and jabbed his shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss. You two walked over to it, hopping in and getting strapped up. He brought a hand over to rest on your thigh, moving it soon after so you could move the gear shift. As a guy walked between the cars to flag, Choso took a good look at you. You looked the most serious he’d ever seen you, eyes forward as you patiently waited for the flag to come up. It was hard for him not to look at your skirt, riding up from how you sat in the seat, panties probably sitting on the-

Choso hadn’t even realized the flagger signaled the takeoff. You reached 100 in 3.5 seconds, pushing him back in the seat as you shifted gears to accommodate the rapid change. From the passenger mirror, he could see the Porsche falling behind, obviously not matching the launch of Choso’s car. As you passed the finish signal, you began to slow down, Porsche catching up. You come to a complete stop now, starting to back up to the starting line. You looked good, hair messy and face flustered, eyes blown from how intense you had to concentrate and the adrenaline pumping through you. Probably the vodka, too.

You hopped out of the car, waiting for the asshole to pull back in, smirking at his loss. He got out of it, even angrier than before, cursing out the flaggers and accusing them of fucking with the signal. Right on time, Mai and Yuuji pulled up in your car, handing you the keys.

“We miss something?”

This time, Mai had replaced Choso as passenger princess, buckling herself in as they warmed the tires. The asshole flipped you off as he returned to his Porsche, obviously holding a grudge. Probably because there was a $40K pot now, and $30K of it was on you. This didn’t take very long at all. The second the flaggers cleared you, you were gone, but this time, his Porsche was neck and neck with yours. As you pulled back, guys were already arguing about the win. Everyone was in outrage; most people were pissed off and claimed loss on a $40K pot. With that, they agreed to review the footage in slo-mo, getting back to everyone as soon as they determined the winner. The cocky asshole smirked, saying things like, ‘We know I won,’ and ‘Tell that bitch she lost.’ You rolled your eyes and lit your cigarette, not like there was anything you could do but wait for the results. Yuuji and Mai said bye as they drove off in Yuuji’s 340i, leaving you and Choso at your car.

“You did good, princess.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you up and down, licking his lips again with half-lidded eyes.

“Let me show you how good you did.”

Only making eyes at a bad boy, one or two of the crew.

“Fuck!”

You practically couldn't get off each other after you and Choso met at your house, even forgetting to lock the front door. He didn't even bother taking you to your room; he had to get your thong off as soon as possible. And now, he was lapping you up on the couch as you pulled on his hair. Shit, he could eat pussy. Your eyes were rolling back, so blissed out you couldn't tell if it was the aftermath of three cosmos or just how good his tongue worked in and out of you. He was going wild, sucking at your clit a little harder every time you said his name, arms wrapped around your legs to pin you down and get you as close to his face as possible. You tasted so fuckin' good; happy to indulge in it now; licking you off his fingers earlier was just a tease. He licked you a little faster as your thighs began to tense on the sides of his head; he could tell you were about to cum. You groaned his name the loudest you had so far and finally let go. He was fuckin' drowning, and he loved every second of it. He was so fuckin' proud of you, not just because you came for him, but also because you beat that asshole earlier.

“That’s my good girl, that’s it, give it to me.”

As you came down, you got up, walking Choso back to your room. You pulled your top overhead and lost your skirt, naked, as you pushed him back to sit on the bed. You work fast to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down, taking his boxers down with them. He helps you out by removing his shirt, not nearly fast enough for how quickly you’d gotten on top of him, straddling his hips as you moved your pussy back and forth over his shaft, begging him to fuck you. Well, how could he say no to that?

If you got an attitude, I'ma take a ride with you.

Choso lifted your hips a little, sinking you onto his dick slowly as you anchored yourself on his chest. You were moaning so fuckin’ loud, throwing your head back as you bounced up and down on his dick, finally finding the relief of his teasing all day. His hands gripped your hips, meeting your hips to thrust into you until, eventually, you started to slow down, getting tired from fucking him so fast. So, he sat up, adjusting you so you were on your knees, straddling his waist as he bounced you up and down on his dick. He groaned your name over and over in your ear, bringing a hand up to hold your back, bringing your tits into his chest before bringing his head down to suck at them, still fucking into you at a dangerous pace. He almost felt selfish for how fast he was fucking you, but you were so high on cumming earlier that you took every thrust he gave you, giving him those pretty whimpers every time he hit that special spot inside of you, but you needed him to keep hitting it, wanting to waste no time.

“Baby, make me cum again.”

“Yeah, baby? Want to cum for me again?”

You tried to say yes, but Choso was already flipping you over; he was on top of you, pushing his dick back into you, hitting that spot immediately. Fuck, he was consistent, ramming his hips into yours right there, reaching your hand up to grip his hair and bite his neck as he drilled into you. You were so fucking close, scratching your nails down his back as he took you exactly where you needed to be. You became undone on him, moaning his name into the room as you gripped his back and the sheets.

“Yeah, baby, cum for me. Fuck you feel so good…”

He fucked you through your orgasm; the spasms of your pussy, as you came, made him feel like nirvana, fucking into you deep as he chased his high. Within seconds he came inside of you, fucking his cum deeper into you as you held him, spent from overstimulation.

You can run and hide; I’m running game.

Choso rolled over, falling next to you on the bed, practically gasping for air after cumming so hard. He’d wanted you for so long, and seeing you in that outfit all night had made him feral. You got up first, putting your hair up in a clip as you walked to your bathroom to clean up, and as much as he didn’t wanna see you go, the brilliant view of your ass as you walked out the bedroom door made him want you to leave. You came back and cleaned his dick off, which he thanked you for with a kiss and a slap to your ass. Getting in bed with him, he wrapped his arms around you as you rested a hand on his chest.

Suddenly, your phone lit up with a text from Mai in the group chat. You opened the message, a slo-mo recap of the race from earlier. You had passed his Porsche ever so slightly, and the organizers declared you the winner of the race. Not like you’d ever think you’d lose.

Only one winner in this bitch and I win everything.

♱ the song used in this story is bb by shygirl. 🖤

♱ masterlist.

♱ all fics playlist.

𝖆𝖚 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖔𝖎𝖗, 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖗𝖚𝖎𝖓.

[sophmeeh]

I FINALLY FINISHED THIS THING

And hello first of all xD after two months I think

This drawing took like two parts of my soul when I made it 💀 I suffered and it took me a long time doing it although it may not seem like it, but I think in the end it was worth it despite the imperfections. And I must say that I am very outraged that this ship is hardly talked about ,:") It seems strange to me that not much is said about this ship because it is one of the oldest in the fandom, but hey, here is my little contribution 💖

And yup, Turbo's shell is traced, it's a desperate measure I resorted to and I'm not at all proud of it; although I can assure you that the rest was completely done by me.

And it should be noted that this drawing, in addition to being inspired by a scene from the movie, is also a redrawing of another redrawing(?

So, I'm also tagging this along with the series posts because the movie hashtags are even more dead..... And I'm so proud jksjsjsksksjs

Someday I will make a post without using Google Translate, I swear :'>