#goro takemura fanfic

[severemiraclefest]

"What makes you think you can handle me, V-chan?"

⛩️🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸⛩️

That line comes from the first part of the fanfic by @cyber-vianne-77 , you can read it HERE. It was spot on what I think Goro would say to V in the right moment...and it should have been in the game (as well as other things 😒)

🎋🎋🎋🎋

[sorserah]

Chapter 3: Losing Thrice

Outsider No More | Goro Takemura & Female V/OC

And then he understands, clearly understands what she had been feeling, trying to tell him. And he now realizes too, he does not want to lose her either. 

An interpretation of how a romance between Takemura and Corpo Female V could have been. Changing between Vs and Takemuras POV. Mostly following the main story of the game, adding bits and pieces here and there for a little bit more depth. So spoilers ahead.

18+, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Romance, Panic Attacks, Death, Blood and Injury, Corpo V (Cyberpunk 2077, Takemuras POV, Vs pov, Alcohol, Sexual Tension, Flirting, Denial of Feelings, Internal Conflict, they are both idiots, Guilt, Overthinking, Smut, Sex, Romantic, Gestures

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434627/chapters/69807828

It is almost midnight, rainfall had started a while ago. The gutters flowed full of water, spilling onto the sidewalk, fog rising from the streets. “あいさつ Yorinobu...” Takemura hesitates for a second then spat out between gritted teeth “..-sama. I have found the woman you are looking for.” “Finally, send me your current coordinates ASAP!” Takemura did what he was told but was sure Yorinobu didn’t believe him for a second, then “Good, my men will be there in five.”

He retreats to the wide, long and dark alley he had chosen for an event like this. Roofed, to the, left a closed metal door, to the right a trash container, behind which he hit his rifle. In the back a small fence, he could quickly jump over, if things get a little too....delicate. He strides into the center of the alley and takes position, hands folded in front of his body, closing his eyes to halt his thoughts, to review final combat maneuvers. The rain pattered monotonously on the roof. The water from the overflowing gutter slowly ran into the alley.

It wasn’t long until the rumble of a loud, high-performance engine could be heard and a dark Quadra drove up. Takemura opens his eyes, as the front and back doors of the car open and four shapes walk towards him, positioning themselves at the entrance of the alley. くそ. It had been apparent to him from the beginning that Yorinobu wouldn't need either him anymore nor V, but he would have preferred to deal with just two contractors - Tiger Claws he would have guessed.

Unfortunately, this was currently the easiest way to get resources and then quickly disappear. „Where is she?“ asks the biggest one with a heavy Japanese accent. Takemura nods to the left „Behind this door, constraint.“ The four executioners look at each other and start laughing „Why is it, that we do not believe you?“ „See for yourselves.“ Takemura hisses in Japanese and steps next to the trash container gesturing to the door.

Regrettably, things did not go according to plan. Two of the thugs are blocking the entrance to the alley, the other two approach Takemura. Suddenly, one of them lashes out, Takemura manages to dodge and hit him hard on both ears, kicks him in the crotch, causing him to stagger backward and fall down, hands between his legs. However, the second managed to pull him back by the hair. Takemura grabs both forearms of the attacker, gave in to his pull until the attacker stumbled and used this to turn around and throw the attacker over his back onto the one already lying on the ground. The attacker hit the other hard on the head with his boots and he remained motionless. Meanwhile, the other two thugs had already gained attention.

One of them grabs Takemura violently by the collar, ramming him against the metal door, and the other punches him violently against his ribs with his strengthened fists multiple times. He could feel one or two of them breaking, his breath caught in his throat. There is only one way to escape. He quickly rips open the front buttons of his shirt, dropped to the ground, hits each one of the attacker's knees with both fists and full force, pushing their legs aside, rushing over to the rifle, dropping hard on his back and firing two well-aimed shots. The two attackers slit to the ground immediately. The last one alive grabbed Takemura's foot. „マザーファッカー“ Takemura kicks him in the temple so that he no longer moved either.

Takemura turns around and onto his knees, releasing the rifle, crossing his arms over his abdomen. The pain in his side is so intense that he feels nauseous. Cold sweat mixed with the warm one, strands of hair glued to his face, but he could not stay here. He picked himself up with utmost difficulty and begins to search the thugs. He finds some ammunition, a pistol, a good amount of Eurodollars and the car keys. He takes his shirt, threw it over and searches the parked car. Fortunately, violent activity is such a normal occurrence in Night City that no one pays any attention to him. In the car, he finds more ammunition and a few more Eddies.

It was still pouring and after a minute he is soaking wet. Limping as discretely as possible, he makes his way down the street, to a marketplace with a few small stalls. Actually a nice spot he thinks. There are masses of red paper lanterns stretched over posts and walls, soaking the whole market in a cozy red light. A constant relaxed noise level in the air, interrupted only by sudden loud laughter. Food stalls lined up in a cluster, occasionally disconnected by bars, tables or other vendors, such as clothing or electronics. Takemura buys a bag of anpan, some not real fish, as well as some water and whisky. For later.

In the background, he could see a half-lit motel sign, just above another restaurant. He walks past a booth that played some rock music outrageously loud, Samurai, he was able to read on the posters. To his left, he saw another booth with a dark leather jacket that might be his size. "Excuse me, how much would you like for this jacket?" "150 Eddies and it's yours, you look really bad man, I'll make her a special price." "Thanks. Can I get this black shirt here too?" „Sure, 50 Eddies.“ Takemura pulls the shirt and jacket off the hanger, he wouldn’t wear another white one in this city if he could avoid it.

At the motel, he was pleased to find that there is no staff there. He pays his Eddies only fot the night - safer to vanish at any moment - and was glad when he could finally enter an empty room, wind down in peace. He makes sure the door was closed and locked. The room is fairly small; with a wandering glance, he obtains an overlook. Putting his groceries on the table, wrinkling his nose at the sight of the spoiled food in the sink, and hanging up his new jacket carefully over one of the three chairs. Takemura peers out the window, stepping onto the balcony and checking beneath the bed. No one was around. He takes the whiskey and his rifle, puts down his dirty and soaked shirt on the way to the bathroom and lets it just fall on the floor.

He checks behind the shower curtain as well, the bathtub wasn’t as moldy as expected and surely not as dirty as the sink. Carefully placing the rifle on the floor but at hand, he inspects his back and abdomen in the mirror, the previous bruises had now been joined by some new red ones. He opens the whiskey and took a big gulp before he started to examine his ribs. Apparently, he had been right, one or two ribs were broken. He would have to see Viktor again. He gets rid of the rest of his clothes and stands under the hot shower. He feels depressed, powerless, embarrassed and alone. Saburo was dead because he failed his duty. He was cast out by Arasaka and he couldn't even use his cybernetics to help himself. 

Takemura strokes the back of his neck with his right hand could clearly feel the Arasaka implants and undid his topknot. His hair was flushed to the right and left of his face, darkening his vision. He had worked for the Arasaka family for so many decades. Never had he dreamed that Yorinobu would be capable of something like this, family had always been the most important thing especially to Saburo and Hanako. And then Yorinobu betrayed his family, killed his own father, was on his old master's throne now, ruling over Arasaka. Takemura opens his eyes again, clenching his fists before turning of the shower tap, making himself aware of his intentions again. He would do everything in his power to revenge Saburo.

Taking another big sip of whiskey - to ease the pain - as he finds a halfway clean-looking white t-shirt on the shelf next to the tub. He put it on, just like his boxers, shakes the pants loose and puts them carefully folded with the jacket and the new shirt. He would leave the old one here. Grabbing the bag of buns and the water, sitting down on the worn bed and then looking out the window as he finishes two of the three buns. He would call V tomorrow early in the morning. She is his last hope to accomplish his mission and restore the balance of the Arasaka family to the extent that it was possible. He let himself sink into the pillows and immediately drifts into a deep sleep.

[mel-0n-earth]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Goro Takemura/V Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Age Difference, Orgasm Edging, Goro is experienced, v is not, It's smut your honor, Mutual Pining, Pining, Goro is a smooth bastard, Idiots in Love, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Food as Love Language, Sexualizing that middle-aged man Summary:

Shortly after the parade in Japantown, Goro learns that V's past sexual experiences have been...not great. He offers to remedy that. V tells herself it's nothing but a fling, even though the spark between them is clearly signalling something more.

A cozy Goro and V oneshot.

[baka-bakeneko]

Bakeneko Masterlist

I know I don't tend to tag all my fics the same so here's a masterlist of everything I've written (so far) [all of my fics are NSFW, aside from Insomniatic and majority Things I Do For You]

Goro Takemura

New Kind of Love / The Things I Do For You / Everlong

Jiraiya

In Heat / Make It Stick / Cool Down / Handful / Double Trouble

Slow Down

Kento Nanami

Into It

Miguel O'Hara

Arruinarte

Chaos Theory

Starving

Rojo Carnal

Bad Things / Here, Kitty Kitty

Hey Mami / Hey Papi

Enmesh

Nathan Explosion

Shut Up

Make It Mine

Make Me

Hold Onto Me

One-Offs

Give Up (Simon "Ghost" Riley)

Guilty Conscience (Devil Jin)

Old-Fashioned Rockerboy (Johnny Silverhand - ask request)

Take (Jackie Welles - ask request)

River Ward

Insomniatic

Babe of Night City* / Mercenary's Lullaby / Swaddle Serenade

Spread 'Em*

Hot-Blooded

Midnight Snack

Hate Me / Owe Me

Streets

Melting (ask request)

Luxurious

Toji Fushiguro

Sets

Body

Wade Wilson

Here's To Us / Don't Stop Now / Take a Break

Cottontail (ask request)

[fereldanwench]

It's been a while since I've shared my fic for Goro and Valerie, but I do have a handful of one-shots published over on AO3! So in the spirit of Valentine's Day, here are a few of the sexier pieces:

♡♡ Homecoming ♡♡ » RATING: E | 6,429 WORDS Takemura and V are physically reunited after her time in Mikoshi.

♡♡ Beautiful Alliance ♡♡ » RATING: E | 4,645 WORDS V reflects on life post-Mikoshi and takes care of Takemura the best way she knows how. A/N - It's the blow-job character study fic.

♡♡ The Best Remedy ♡♡ » RATING: M | 2,077 WORDS Takemura and V tend to each other's wounds after a mission.

♡♡ Discretion ♡♡ » RATING: E | 2,360 WORDS Takemura and V discreetly inaugurate their retirement from Arasaka with a day in the park.

CREDITS: - Heart stock photo from Unsplash - Heart and lavender dividers by @saradika-graphics

[choccy-zefirka]

Six of Swords

Hello, I was possessed to write some V/Takemura this afternoon! Note that I am playing the game for the first time, mostly blind, so the fic is based on the events that have happened to my V so far (she just met Panam and is in the middle of investigating Evelyn's employers), and was an outpouring of my love for the ship that I had to get out of my system before I properly finished the game. Hence, it may not be quite accurate/in-character!

I also planned to continue the story further, to the point where V and Takemura have their adult choom-choom time, and then their pillow talk involves 1. The talents they would have pursued in another, more peaceful life (cooking for Takemura and art for V); and 2. What Anders Hellman revealed to V regarding her condition. However, given that I have immersed myself in pretty harrowing irl news tonight, that extinguished my inspiration spark for the time being, so I kindly ask you to enjoy the story for what it is!

As usual, my writing contains certain undesirable traits (repetitions, tangents, purple prose etc.) but I had fun with it, and so might you!

Also, this is the V in this story! Idc what CD Projekt says, her full name is Vita XD She belongs to the same character archetype as Una Cadash, Naali Adaar and Cinder the Tav.

"Greetings, V. I do not intend to offend, but it appears that you are forming a behavioral pattern."

The dulcet robotic voice — so familiar — sends ripples across the sea of hissing, crackling, acidic turquoise stripes and squares that have been biting at V's eyes, until she felt like her burning, veins eyeballs were dripping blood.

She blinks, once, twice. The blood turns out to have been tears. Just tears. Once a beast she thought she'd conquered triumphantly at the age of twelve; and now, a more annoying recurring guest than a celebrity on Stan's show.

She wipes them off, in a swift, almost violent motion. Gotta destroy those fuckers.

The ringing in her ears subsides, and the floating turquoise shapes shift and condense into a face. A very distinct, plasticky white face, speaking to her from an overhanging monitor. Her tear-damp fingers twitch, and she spreads them out, still half-blind, feeling the creaky leather. She is on the back seat of a taxi. The taxi, she should say.

"Hey, Del..." she croaks weakly. "How... How did you get here?"

Seriously, though. How?

Her thoughts and memories set in like a broken nose. The last thing she can recollect is the muted orange blur of the desert highway, beyond the Sunset Motel, and a biting-sharp stench as she slumped over the upper-floor railing, heaving her guts out.

"Mr. Takemura hailed me with instructions to take you home," Delamain explains, courteous as ever. "I made certain to send out a reliable cab, whose AI is completely in line with the Delamain Corporation standards."

Through the last dregs of her wooziness, V cannot help but snort (a mistake, as it makes her inhale the lingering aftertaste of her own vomit). Yeah, reliable cab. Unlike those rogue ones. Ugh, she still has to finish chasing them down.

"You were in poor condition — though thankfully, not as poor as when I previously did this for you. Still, this was already happened twice. Hence my remark about the pattern."

"Mhm. If you had an eddie for each time, you'd have two eddies, which is not much, yada yada..."

V sighs.

"Man. Sorry, Del, I... I had a shitty couple of days."

The words scarcely leave her flaky, terribly dry lips — which she just barely saved from splitting into bloody cracks by taking a huge swig from a branded water bottle, graciously provided in the cup holder by her seat — when all of these days' shittiness hits her. At once. Hard, fast. Like crashing your motorbike into a septic tank.

She's seen so much. Way too much for one lifetime,even if hers is supposed to be jam packed into a few weeks.

The dark green mire of the snuff film brain dances, contrasted against the explosion of the searing thermal orange — that fucking ripperdoc chair where some unlucky gonk was melted into a sticky, none-beef-all-soot carcass, for sickos to get off to his final agony.

Evelyn's limp body against her chest, so small, so bare, all that glitz and sass and mystique gone, like she was a little girl V was tucking lovingly into bed. And dark, dark smears everywhere: blood in the bath, smudged makeup on Judy's ashen, hardened face.

Then, the desert, just today. Blood-red through the lens of a drone, no signs of life among the dust and brittle grass. Just the scattered bodies of the nomads — Panam's people, good people, who had nothing to do with this mess, who only wanted to help, to rescue survivors from a downed AMV. The AMV *she* was hunting; the AMV *she* roped Panam into helping her with.

V presses her hand against her eyes. Johnny is quiet for now; she must have taken the Omega blockers back there, at the motel, without knowing. One small blessing, at least. His voice chiming in with her own is the last thing she needs right now.

Shit, shit, shit! She's supposed to be better than this. She was always the tough, competent one. The one to pull her chooms back from the brink, whether it's a younger street kid, years ago, wanting to swim in a canal supposedly infested with brain-eating amoeba (so this is what it feels like), or Judy staring into nothing, with a cigarette weeping ash in her shaking hand, or Panam clutching her wound, screaming the name of the man who offered her to run away together. She — V — was supposed to hold them, to tell them it's gonna be okay. We did preem, fellas, we lived to see another sunrise. Look sharp, look ahead, look at V.

...Who would look at her now and be inspired to push on?

When she lifts her hand again, her face is wet. A-fucking-gain.

And deep inside her — a quivering cable line pulled taut from her gut to the back of her throat — there is a strong, overpowering longing for... For something terribly stupid. And right now, with her legs still numb and sick still drying up on the front of her shirt, she is too weak to stop and make sense of it, much less resist. So she just goes with it, and says what it wants her to say.

"Del... Can you call Takemura for me?"

Delamain obliges,  blue lips sculpted into an impeccably professional smile. The glowing white monitor turns bright orange, and another face emerges from the static. Making the sensation within V cut into her insides even deeper.

"V! I was just finished with Hellman."

V exhales a short laugh. She is still drenched in all that metaphorical shit, but there is no better distraction from it than her favorite pastime. Testing the limits of this old man's stoicism.

"Did not kill him, did you? Or is he still walking around like in those ancient samurai movies — you know, where a guy slices another guy up and he feels just fine, and then suddenly falls apart into neat chunks of meat?"

Takemura holds her gaze, very unimpressed. But she has come to recognize that little tug at the corners of his mouth. She won't go as far as to say that this is also his favorite pastime... But he is not *not* enjoying this.

"You certainly flatter my technique, but... No. Hellman is still alive. I simply obtained all the information I needed from him."

He pauses, and suddenly, his face softens even further. By about 0.01℅, but still.

"I am glad you are awake, V. I heard you screaming in pain on the balcony of that so-called... motel," his lips curl, and he spits the word out like moldy food. "But I could not attend to you for long. You understand."

"The interrogation, yeah."

The conversation lulls, and in the silence, the longing takes over once more.

"Listen, Goro..."

She catches a moment to savor the feel of his first name in her mouth. Since she's started doing stupid things, might as well go all in.

"Can we meet? I'll ask Del here to redirect the car to the marina. It should be deserted at this time of night; I wanna talk in person."

Takemura nods. Somehow, his lack of hesitation sends heat rushing up her windpipe.

"Once, I would have wondered if you were going to waste my time, but now I know better. No meeting with you is ever a waste of time, V."

"Even if we are just eating horrible street food?"

She can swear she's never seen the corners of his lips tilt up this much.

"Even then. Is that why you wish to seek me out on the marina?"

"No, not exactly..." for a fraction of a second, V feels rather sheepish, sobering up from the longing. But Takemura himself does not allow her to backpedal.

"Very well. I will see you there," he says — and disconnects.

By the time Delamain glides onto the marina — smooth as a drifting cloud compared to the mad race across unpaved rocky hillocks and through dingy Raffer tunnels with Panam — it starts to rain. Or, well, drizzle. The wet mist hangs in the air, scented with something fresh for once, and the city lights color it with a peculiar mix of emerald and purple. The palm trees sway quietly, slender silhouettes against the almost trippy watercolor swirls. Deep down, at the same hidden core of her heart that's being pierced by her stupid longing, V wishes she had her drawing tablet with her.

Useless gonk, that. Such a pointless thing to have bought with the eddies from one of her very first gigs. Only really good for designing bike decals for your chooms, and even those would probably have come off just fine if you'd asked one of Del's artist cousins to generate them for you. But sometimes, V cannot help but notice how blue the sky looks when the smog clears, or how vivid orange the rocks by the dam are when the sun hits them, or right now, how those palms look.

And hey, some drawing tutorials on the net are free, and you can't spend every single evening between heists knocking down shots or diddling joy toys. Sometimes you just wanna... meditate.

Jackie had his dumbbells, Misty has her crystals and shit, and V has her silly little tablet. Not enough to turn her into anything more than a Heywood thug, not enough to make her stand out here or in Atlanta... But just right to capture the little splashes of color she spots here and there, so that they leave her head and stop fucking bothering her.

"V. You have no umbrella."

She's been so lost in thought, staring up at the dancing palms, that Takemura's voice makes her jump. Yeah, she has no umbrella — she has no shirt underneath her trusty leather jacket either. Left it crumpled up in the back seat of the taxi, next to the empty bottle she'd gargled to clean her mouth. Kind of felt awkward wearing that vomit-soiled mess to meet Takemura. Especially with what she's about to do.

She freezes in front of him, filling her lungs with the damp seaside air, and filling her mind with the sight of him — a solid, dignified figure amid the rainy blur, worthy of an artwork of its very own... And next, without warning, she takes off: dashes forward and wraps herself around him in the tightest embrace she can muster.

This is the closest she's been to him since he hauled her unconscious mess of limbs to Vik's... Aside from a few brushes of her hand against his: over the condiment bottles on a stained diner table, arranged to represent whatever shit they were making plans about; over shared binoculars at a stakeout; or over a slice of quickly cooling pizza that she playfully shoved at him and he rejected, in utter disdain. All brief, all fleeting, all signifying nothing — as each of them insisted inside their own mind, even as she slanted her eyes covertly to watch him watching her, when they both were supposed to get the lay of the land.

Fuck, he smells so good. He has no right to smell so good for a man on the run, slumming it among cockroaches in some hidden basement. She thinks she can hear a crisp, starchy crunch when she presses against his shirt. Last time she felt something like this was when she and Jackie got dressed up in corpo fits for that fucking mess of a heist.

That reminder adds another droplet to the overpouring tank of shit, and she instinctively clings to Takemura even tighter, a noiseless sob, her third in what, an hour, racking through her.

Of course, it is at this moment that Johnny decides to blink into existence again.

"The fuck?!" he calls out, parting the streams of rain like a bead curtain as he struts up to her. "Did you shut me up so you could get high without me?"

Takemura, ironically, echoes the sentiment.

"V? What is this? Are you still delirious... or perhaps intoxicated? Once more?"

He is not aggressive when he pries her away from him; but still firm. V staggers back, wincing at this painful reminder of their very first rendezvous. She stumbled off to meet Takemura straight from Jackie's ofrenda, who knows how many shots in, head swimming with far too many feelings all at once, and straight up called him "heeey gorgeous". Which he was. Which he *is*. But like... Time and place.

"I am sorry," she blurts out. "I should have asked if you were okay with me getting into your space like that. No, I am sober, it's just... Goro. Listen."

She clenches her fists, chipped-up nails cutting deep into her callused palms. Here it comes. The talk she wanted to have with him.

"I'm no stranger to losing people. Comes with the territory. But ever since that chip mess, it's been happening at a breakneck speed. I meet someone, we choom up, I get them to see that I'm someone they can trust, depend on — that's my whole thing, always has been — and the next time they call me, someone has died. Brutally. Even by Night City standards. It just keeps piling up and up, till I can barely take it... But the one constant in all of this, has been you."

"No fucking way you are saying this to a Saka goon!" Johnny throws his arms up in anguish. "What did I tell you: he's not your friend! He can't be your friend! I don't think the word is in his fucking vocabulary!"

V knits her eyebrows as tightly as she can, as if that will keep him under lock and key, and forces her focus back onto Takemura. He, too, is frowning... But not in anger, she doesn't think. He is giving her his full attention.

"Whenever I call you, I trust that you will answer. Alive. Annoyed with me, but alive. Your texts, your weird parables, even that one time you like... confused the messenger with the search bar and sent me all that WHERE TO FIND GOOD RAMEN stuff in all caps... It's a wonderful pick-me-up when I'm wading through... whatever sludge the city dumps of me. I just wanted to.. I guess... Thank you for that. And to let you know that I'm... I'm still thinking about everything we said to each other on that roof. It meant a lot. You were right; we may butt heads, and argue our different philosophies, but... It makes each of us a bit less lonely."

"It does," Takemura says softly. His voice has dropped a few octaves, and flows more... freely, in a way? As he goes on speaking, the sentences sound less measured, less pre-calculated... It takes a couple of confused blinks for V to realize that what she still perceiving in her head as English is actually Japanese. He has switched to his native language, and her translator implant has kicked into gear.

She mentioned having that implant to him once, even back before Judy had updated it with the Haitian Creole language pack.

"You can speak to me in Japanese if you'd like," she said.

That offended him, as he assumed his English was not good enough for the ignorant American merc. And to be fair, compared to his near-fluency in a second language, and how knows, maybe a third and fourth, all she can boast parroting without a translator are a few curses in Spanish.

But what she meant — and what she hurried to explain to him — was, "You say sometimes that you are homesick. I figured... Using Japanese might ease that feeling."

At the time, he acknowledged her intentions with a polite nod, but insisted on English — perhaps as a sign of respect. And now, here he is. Stepping forward to close the gap that had formed between them. And also, stepping over the language barrier.

"At first, you were an asset to me. A thief that could be of use in avenging Arasaka-sama merely because she was at the right place and at the right time. But then you asked me, again and again, how I felt. Whether I was well. I told you before it was a question I am not accustomed to in my line of work; but it was far from unwelcome. This city is like a stone box filled from within with heavy black smoke, yet with your simple, genuine question, you gave me a lamp. And it lit up brighter and brighter with every new text message, every new call, even with every outrageous joke. You actually coaxed confessions about my childhood, my foolish visions of another life, out of me. These are secrets I grant to very few people. No-one in the past decade. Yet you..."

Slowly, rather clumsily, as if he were replicating the motion after observing other people do it — a silent guardian, a soldier of steel, not allowed such expressions of tenderness himself — he reaches forward and cups the side of V's face with his hand.

"You gave me an all new reason to be grateful that you did not die."

"Oh shit, are you gonna — " Johnny chokes somewhere out there, in the damp haze.

V is not sure if she intended to; she's been too lost in taking in Takemura's quietly sincere expression... But now, of course, she has to.

She tugs at the front of that pristine shirt to make him bend down slightly. She is pretty confident that this low cut collar is precisely where the cybernetics end and the soft, warm, human skin begins. His lips, too, are soft and warm when she meets them with her own. It almost feels too much, too far, tasting him like this — Arasaka's most fearsome enforcer, who is *supposed* to work with her on a very professional, very dangerous mission... But he is the first to slip in his tongue, and the moan that he makes sounds like a sigh of relief.

Now he is the one pulling her in, merging their personal spaces into a single whole. The hand that was resting on her cheek drops to her waist to keep her close. His fingers — a delicate masterwork, whether implants or not, so mesmerizingly beautiful compared to her clumsy, always bloody-knuckled mitts — travel over her jacket... and then pause, when he realizes that this is her only outer wear.

She breaks the kiss and opens her eyes just in time to spot the exact moment when his astonishment gives way to a wicked smirk. Much like the face of the fox from all his parables. He peels the jacket back a little, revealing the muscles and the scars on her abdomen...

"Oh, this corpo fucker thinks he can treat my host — my host! — like a fucking Jig Jig doll!"

If Johnny were corporeal, V would surely have felt angry spittle flying into her face.

"Stop it!" she hisses... Out loud.

Takemura's features instantly set into the mask he wore so beautifully when he was trying to detect the intruders inside his master's walls.

"Of course," he says, returning to English. "We should know our limits. Our partnership has already become all that more complicated."

"No!" V gasps, desperate to outrace the broken-elevator plummet of her own heart. "It's the engram acting up again! I... I can handle this kind of complicated. I *want* this kind of complicated."

The mask begins to crack.

"You are very open about what you want," Takemura muses, eyebrows half-raised. "I am not certain if I can... relate to that, as my wants are the wants of the Arasaka lineage, but it is oddly admirable. Still — "

His hand is on her waist again, but this time it's to steer her to the taxi.

"If you are unwell, it is best that you return home. I will remember this, V. Most warmly."

"Wait!"

She weaves their fingers together, the refined elegance of Tokyo and the rough edges of Heywood becoming one.

"Come with me. We still have so much time to while away before the parade. I have to meet this guy for deets on the Voodoo Boys, but that's not until the day after tomorrow. And at least I have running water at my place. And no cockroaches. That I know of."

He shakes his head, but does not let go of her hand.

"You know I am a marked man, V. Losing ourselves in crowds together is one thing, but..."

"Come on!"

She beams at him, and the wider the grin, the clearer the realization: her pain and guilt have subsided. For the time being.

"This is a Delamain cab. And I have, well, inherited the Excelsior package from Dex. Top notch security, isn't that right, Del?"

She pokes her head through the car door to ask the question, and the AI responds affirmatively.

"Indeed. Delamain guests are guaranteed full privacy aboard this premium vehicle. No security specialists, even those as formidable as the employees of Arasaka Corporation, will be able to breach inside throughout the entire route from here to your garage."

"And the building itself?" Takemura persists — even as the tip of his thumb begins to unconsciously run over V's cracked knuckles. She thinks he finds the motion soothing.

"The elevator cameras?"

She beams again.

"I have these neat little optics that turn my face into a blur in any security footage. I believe..."

She plants another kiss at the corner of his mouth, inciting a blissful little sigh.

"If our faces are pressed close enough, the effect might extend to you."

With that, she yanks at his arm, ever so slightly, teasing as always.

He follows readily, finally convinced.

They unlock their hands and duck through their respective passenger doors. V finds the back seat thoroughly cleaned of the dirty shirt and the water bottle. She would not be surprised if Delamain had a whole recycling station somewhere underneath. Great for corpse disposal too — no, better not think of it now.

Takemura leans back, rolling his tired shoulders.

"This thing is quite nice to ride in when you are not bleeding to death, isn't it?" V chuckles, and Takemura hums contentedly in agreement.

"Thank you for the feedback," says Delamain. "I shall now turn my attention strictly to traffic, to allow my guests the promised privacy."

"Much appreciated, choom."

The upholstered back of the front car seat carves itself into luridly textured blocks before V's eyes. Next thing she knows, Johnny is lounging next the non-existent driver — not buckled in, obviously.

"Don't do this," he warns her through his teeth. "You are getting your perspective skewed. And turning yourself into a loose end that this fucker and his big mommy Hanako will cut just like that..." He is crammed between seats now, right in front of her, snapping his fingers. "The moment you are no longer useful."

V remembers to keep her voice inside her skull, this time around.

"I am not taking relationship advice from a dead guy who keeps calling one of his closest associates a cold bitch every five seconds."

"You don't know fuck about my relationships!" Johnny seethes, but V is no longer humoring him. Takemura has pulled her into his lap and is kissing her again. And again. And again. On her lips, her jaw, along the side of her neck.

Now, there is a deep, ravenous force brewing behind every stroke of his tongue, every half-bite of his teeth. He locked eyes with her briefly when she straddled his leg, asking for permission ("Like the loyal dog that he is," Johnny would have sneered, but honestly, fuck Johnny). And when she granted that permission with a gleeful nod, the force was fully unleashed. How long has this been building up? How long ago did he let himself go last, if ever?

He answers at least one of her unsaid questions the next time he surfaces for air.

"I have a confession," he murmurs in Japanese, gazing at her half-lidded through a silky veil of salt and pepper.

V has, once or twice, seen his hair in a "shamefully disheveled" state (which is Takemura-speak for one strand being slightly loose because he had no time for a full morning routine in his hideout). Now, though, it is almost completely undone, a messy dark frame for his fine-cut face. V laces her fingers through it, nigh reverently, and it is with the same reverence that he kisses the inside of her wrist, before continuing.

"Do you remember how I asked you to hack a camera for me, and as you sneaked towards it, you forced a back door open with your bare hands?"

Just as it mysteriously vanished, V's shirt has been mysteriously returned by Delamain. It lies neatly folded next to her on the back seat, but she couldn't be further from trying to put it on. On the contrary, her leather jacket has now slid down her shoulders, and her torso is on full display, every marking, every groove of embedded cybernetics, every bump and curve of her musculature.

She is no Jackie, of course. She will never be Jackie, for all her attempts to clumsily rest her hand on top of Mama Welles' and do her duty of comfort and protection... No, not now, please not now!

She is no Jackie — but she could easily do pull-ups hanging off a metal beam at an abandoned construction site, twenty feet off the ground and with badges swarming underneath, sirens blaring. In fact, she just might. Especially if Takemura were watching.

"Suppose I do."

"You were in a short tank top; I could see your back move, your arms strain. Your strength was brute and raw, untrained... But so beautiful. At that moment, I wanted you so much that I almost forgot myself. A..."

His chest heaves. Through the loosened hair cascade, V watches the glaze of desire clear from his eyes. If it were not for the state of his hair, the flush on his face, the nanometers separating him from her, and the fact that she could slide her hand down his pants at any moment to check if he had an extra gun or... If it were not for all of that, he could almost have been the ruthless, efficient, unshakable Goro Takemura she first started working for.

"A lapse in sanity that I am repeating now."

Fuck. Forget the extra gun then.

She has not realized, until now, how cold it is without her jacket, despite Delamain best attempt at the most agreeable climate control. How the air prickles at her exposed skin.

"When you thought I was telling you to stop, it really was just the engram..." she says, her voice deliberately, carefully slow. "But if you are done now, then no problem."

"Thank fuck!" Johnny cheers, his voice muffled but full of what V believes is called schadenfreude.

"It would have been a good decision, but..." Takemura shakes his head. "But I still want you. I never stopped wanting you, from that moment since. Despite my obligations, despite the burdens we both carry. I just..."

"You are not used to having wants of your own. Outside of Arasaka."

V whispers her guess with a gentleness that almost makes her shudder — to herself, she sounds too much, *way* too much like that fucking doll in the Clouds.

"It's all right. I won't tell anyone. Honor among thieves, remember?"

She rests her forehead against his and smiles to mirror his own smile — which is quivering and uncertain; but still there. Still back on his lips.

"I am sure Hanako-sama will be too busy thanking you for bringing her brother's crimes to light, to notice that you've been going around getting horny for random mercs. Now come here. We're almost at my place."

Her next kiss is more of a breath, a fleeting promise than an actual touching of the lips. But Takemura's eyes darken again. Heavy. Ravenous.

She feels a bump against her thigh that is certainly not acting the way extra guns do.

"Anything for you, V."

[strigital]

outlining "Tapeworm" - which once upon a time was supposed to be a short fix-it fic - is hard and thirsty work (in both senses, hehe) so here are some spoilery memes to help me get this shit out of my system and also i really need a break (special shoutout to ChatGPT for explaining English to me like i'm five)

also yes if you can't tell i'm slightly going wild over the Black Dog story in Cyberpunk Red (how dare it derail my perfectly headcanonized plot!) because it's good stuff and i need to cram it's plot points into "Tapeworm" or else imma lose my mind

[smuttyfang]

Goro Takemura. His Muse

"Can I request Goro Takemura/female reader please? Goro secretly being a poet and the reader being his muse that he falls in love with (I'm really craving something sexy and romantic with a happy ending about this gorgeous man). It's just something from his culture that gives him a sense of peace from time to time in the brutal world he lives and works in."

Words: 1,562

Good thing you had a few drinks at Lizzie's before showing up. How could you not? This was ridiculous.

"Damn, why does he have to choose the most awful meeting places?" Heading to the address Takemura had given you a few hours prior, you realized it was some shitty, cheap motel. He had decided to meet with you the day before a mission you both had agreed to do. According to him, you both needed to do a lot of discussing and planning beforehand. According to you, however, planning ahead was pointless almost all of the time in your line of work.

"Could just wing it, like we have most other shit.." You sighed to yourself, walking closer to the building. Your head was still pretty fuzzy from your drinks. You were never one for planning ahead when nothing ever seemed to go according to any sort of plan in the first place. You both worked well together though, despite not agreeing on that. "The No Tell Motel.." What a name. Shaking your head, you stumbled inside the building. It was not necessarily in awful condition, but it seemed.. dirty. Seemed more like the was a place for hooking up, more than having conversation. Although, it's not like you'd have a problem with that happening.. Ever since you had met Goro, you found it difficult to focus on anything when you were working together. Your eyes would just stay trained on him. He had often asked you several times why you were staring at him. How easily you could pass it off as nothing while in reality, your mind was racing with so many thoughts of being with him.. "Ugh, stop it." You told yourself. "There's no way he would." Trying your best to remove the thoughts, you approached the room number specified in his message. You had a hunch to press your ear to the door, wondering if you could hear anything from him. The only thing you could hear was some mumbling.

"Hmm.. maybe.." Not every word was clear. ".. no, that word.. good.." Curious, you looked around to make sure nobody happened to be watching you. You silently picked at the lock on the door, trying your best to be as quiet as possible to not draw his attention. Lightly pushing on the door, you cracked it open to peek inside. Takemura was sitting on the couch inside of the room. He had a small notepad in his hand, writing something down. He was thinking pretty hard on whatever it was. There's no way he would ever be stupid enough to leave a paper trail for any missions, so your curiosity was killing you. Feeling a little mischievous, you suddenly pushed on the door hard enough to make it slam against the wall behind it.

"Hey, Goro." You giggled casually as you strutted inside the room. He was never someone who got startled or scared easily, but he did slightly jump at your actions. He quickly put his notepad he had previously been writing on inside of his jacket pocket, along with his pen. He stood up, sighing in frustration.

"Was that really necessary?" He went to the door behind you, closing it and locking it back. "I put my own secure lock on this door, so that we could not be disturbed. But you disturbed me yourself." He was always so serious. "You smell like alcohol."

"Just thought I'd try to spook ya a little. Relax." You plopped yourself down, lying on the bed and looking around the room. The room did look much cleaner than the outside of the motel. It was quite dim, and didn't have much in the way of lighting. Only a lamp by the bedside. "You know I can break any lock. Also, I had some drinks at Lizzie's. Job ain't 'till tomorrow."

"Unfortunately for me, yes you can." Goro walked back to the couch and sat down. "We must discuss our plan for tomorrow. You must be able to remember."

"I'd much rather talk about what you were writing before I came in here." He leaned back into the couch, sighing and letting his body slightly relax. The sight of his white shirt showing his chest made you excited.

"I should have known you were watching me. I was simply writing. Nothing more." You enjoyed annoying him, and were feeling a little brave from the alcohol, so you persisted.

"Writing what? No reason to write anything down for a mission." You sat up, kicking off your shoes and pulling your jacket off. You tossed it on top of your shoes. Your body was feeling hot with the drinks still running through you.

"It is a hobby. Nothing more. We have more important matters to discuss." He could be extremely frustrating to talk to sometimes.

"We have all night to talk about that. Just chat with me for a while, Goro. We have to work together, I don't see why we can't enjoy each other's company while we are at it." He stared at you for a minute, eventually relaxing his face a little.

"I suppose we may work better together that way." You rolled your eyes. He seemed to only ever think about work. It made you a little sad to think about it. "I write poetry. It can be quite relaxing." Telling you this, his tone of voice suggested that he expected you to consider it silly. You didn't though.

"That is interesting. It's also a big part of your heritage isn't it?" He nodded his head. "What do you write about? Have anything that really gives you inspiration?"

"You." You quite literally could not believe your ears. You were so taken aback that it was difficult to find anything to say. When you looked at him, he was deadpan.

"You can't be serious." You were waiting for him to tell you he was kidding around.

"I am." He was actually serious.

"What.. what is there to write about me? I ain't special.." You shrugged your shoulders.

"You are beautiful." Surely you must have been dreaming at this point.

"I, uh.. how drunk am I?" Your face felt incredibly hot at this point, almost burning.

"You are a little, but not too much." He still wasn't showing any emotion. He was one of the few people you couldn't read very well, unfortunately.

"For real? Thanks.." You were positive that you were about to pass out. There was, what felt like, an eternally lasting silence. This sort of opening was what you had always wanted with him, but now that it was here and happening in front of you, you had no idea what to do about it. Working up the smallest bit of courage you could manage, (thank you, alcohol), you finally spoke up. "You're handsome, I've always thought so."

"Is that why you stare at me so much?" You nodded your head to him. "I see." Another long silence.

"Did you really bring me here to talk about the job?" You asked him. Standing up, you walked to the couch he was on and sat beside of him. "What do you write about? Inspired by me?" He cleared his throat and sat up.

"I did ask you here for the job. I would rather not discuss my poems in this moment. Maybe another time." He took a quick glance down at your chest before his eyes quickly shot back up to your eyes.

"Then.. can I hear more about how beautiful I am?" You giggled, braving your fear and placing your hand on his knee. He stiffened.

"O-of course. Now that you are so close to me though, I do not know if I can find the words to describe it." He was visibly nervous, but doing his best to hide it. Soon, before you even realized what was happening, Takemura put his hand on your cheek, gently rubbing with his thumb. "Your face is very warm." This was your only chance.

"Make it warmer." You demanded. Taking his opportunity, he pulled your face to his, pressing his lips to yours. His lips were rough against yours. His kiss quickly intensified, his tongue working it's way into your mouth. Hands wandered to other places, his on your hips and yours on his chest. Standing up in sync with each other, you both began walking toward the bed, not breaking the kiss until you took off each others shirts. You fell backward onto the bed, and Goro quickly closed the distance. This made his hips perfectly align with yours, and you immediately felt how hard he was. His cock pressed hard into you, making you moan into the kiss. It felt like he was bigger than you would have expected.. He pulled away breathless, so that he could take in your figure. Your bra had already been torn away. His gaze felt so intense and full of lust.

"You are even more beautiful that I could have expected."

AO3

[merge-conflict]

im gonna behave myself and not send half the list- ❛ i can see you enjoy having the upper hand for once. ❜ :3 your choice for pairing

It only took me two months!! Thank you for your patience on this one and I hope you enjoy it. Also thank you to @86maylin and @luvwich for their efforts as beta for this fic– their feedback improved the piece immensely and any rough edges left are all me. :3

----

“I can see…that you enjoy having the upper hand,” Goro said in a low grumble. “For once,” he added, as V tugged his hair loose, pushing the elastic band over her hand and onto her wrist. It was slightly textured– the better to hold the black and silver strands which now brushed the top of his shoulders. She slid her hand under his chin to lift it, keeping her expression cool and remote as she studied his face.

“For once?” she asked softly, careful not to show the pleasure she felt at seeing the sudden shift in intensity in his eyes as he looked up at her from where he was kneeling. She’d bound him securely, with reinforced rope that had cost her a fair amount of her monthly paycheck. It was well worth it to see the bright crimson looped securely around him, immobilizing his arms behind him even as it framed his torso, stark against the crisp white and black of his clothing.

“Yes,” he said, still confident. Still in control. Still believing himself to be in control. “I am usually the one with the advantage.” He was trying to provoke a reaction, delivering insult via implication– as though she couldn't see right through him. She was going to enjoy feeding his words back to him when she was done.

“Well,” she said, allowing herself a small grin. “Then I should really make sure to enjoy myself while the moment lasts, shouldn’t I?”

>> Read the rest on ao3 here<<

[breezypunk]

Wip Wednesday/Wip whenever

just cos I am actually doin' some stuff and I felt like sharing : )

been finding my energy to make new photostories, it's a passion of mine and I just love doing it so much, so I've been coming up with ideas for future photostories, but here is a sneak peak of a more smaller one I recently made. I've been loving going back in time to the beginning of vaughn and goro's relationship, and even before they were a couple. So I definitely want to make more VP of them from '77 since my current timeline for them is 2083. (Almost 6 years of them putting up with each other's shenanigans, how do they do it)?!

I also am learning how to make custom poses! As of right now I'm learning via replacer method, I gotta start somewhere, and it's been really fun making poses, and of course I'm gonna start with masc poses cos vaughn ;p I'm thinking smokers pack to start with, since he chain smokes xD

Here's the very first one I made:

I had to be fancy with it haha. I don't know when a full pack will be ready, and I don't even know if I wanna release a replacer, I am planning on getting used to replacers first and than move on to axl poses so they are compatible with nibbles replacer, and than potentially make amm poses, but I loathe amm posing, and I use photomode poses religiously, so only time will tell.

I also wanna get back into writing and I did write a little thing, and I am super hard on myself when it comes to fic, I get very scared to share and end of nuking it like I did a few days ago and I regret it, so I will post it again in a few days. I am trying to become more confident in my art and I just wanna share it with the world.

So this is just a couple little things I'm doing, I also already know which mod I'll be working on soon, so that'll be coming as well :3 So yeah! If you see this, feel free to post about your wips, even tag me if you want <3

[sorserah]

Chapter 9: Search and Destroy

Outsider No More | Goro Takemura & Female V/OC

And then he understands, clearly understands what she had been feeling, trying to tell him. And he now realizes too, he does not want to lose her either. 

An interpretation of how a romance between Takemura and Corpo Female V could have been. Changing between Vs and Takemuras POV. Mostly following the main story of the game, adding bits and pieces here and there for a little bit more depth. So spoilers ahead.

18+, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Romance, Panic Attacks, Death, Blood and Injury, Corpo V (Cyberpunk 2077, Takemuras POV, Vs pov, Alcohol, Sexual Tension, Flirting, Denial of Feelings, Internal Conflict, they are both idiots, Guilt, Overthinking, Smut, Sex, Romantic, Gestures

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434627/chapters/70742016#workskin

„We have arrived at your desired location.“ Delamain announces as they drive onto an empty parking spot in front of the abandoned apartment block. I still can’t believe you are actually going to see him, after everything he pulled off. We can be happy we made it out alive just a few minutes ago. I know Johnny, V leans her head back into the seat. I wish I wouldn’t have to, you know. V swings open the back door, gets out and they make their way towards the apartment. You could, you are just too weak. Unfortunately, I can’t make you do anything - yet - but please keep him on a short leash this time. Because I still don’t fucking trust him.

He appears in front of her as she climbs up the last set of stairs. V, for our own sake, we check on him and then delta the fuck outta here before Arasaka finds us. It’s just a matter of time now. We find another way, I promise. You are right, fine, guess that would be best, but… No V! No buts, you lost your damn mind and we both know exactly why. She shoves him aside. Again he blocks her way, his voice furious. You know what, you really are pathetic. He pushes you away twice, fucks up our whole mission and you still want to risk your own life for him. Run to him like a well-trained dog, just like he is, except not for you but for Arasaka. Get this into your fucking head V.

V stops in front of number three-zero-three, Johnnys words hurt her, not because they are particularly meaner than normal, but because she could feel a little truth to them. She turns to Johnny again. Okay, we make a deal alright. Last chance for him. I talk to him about the mission, Hanako, what’s next, et cetera, and about whatever is between us. No straight answer and I will be gone. Guess that’s all I can hope for anyways and he vanishes. Facing the door she lifts up her fist, hesitating, suddenly shaking a bit of nervousness. She knocks four times.

Takemura opens the door pulls her close to him and closes the door again in one swift movement. He presses her into his chest, one hand on her back, the other occupied with his rifle. „Are you okay?“ He asks as he shoves her a few inches in front of her, still very close. His hand wandering from her back, over her hand and up her arm, softly stroking her shoulders and neck, stopping at her cheek, gently stroking his thumb over it while searching every spot of her face with his eyes. She hadn't expected this sudden tenderness at all, she utters confused „Yea.“

„I feared they had caught you.“ She grabs his hand, pulling it away from her face. Though grabbing it tightly the study metal resisting against her grip. „Goro, you know how feared I was, I am?!“ Her voice an angry whisper, sharpening with every word „Gonna tell me what the fuck you were thinking?! Hanako is the most wanted person in the world, every Arasaka soldier is on our trail.“ He is still looking at her intensely, his voice likewise muted „I am aware. That is why we should not waste any time.“

Takemura moves sideways and nods into the direction of a table, where someone is sitting already. Startled, she finally lets go of his hand. „I offered her some tea…“ V can’t help but laugh „You kidnap Hanako Arasaka and offer her a cup of fuckin’ tea?!“ She could see a slight grin on his face „It was your idea.“ „Oh no, this wasn’t my idea. I made a joke. I will not take any responsibility for your actions here Goro.“ He looks down, pawing the ground „I would never expect this from you. And she…respectfully declined.“ V sighs, „Okay, just let’s get this over with.“ Both serious again „Tell her the truth about Yorinobu, no embellishment. And state your terms clearly. Perhaps she will listen.“

„Hanako, I am sorry we have to speak under these circumstances.“ „This is the second time I have heard this today.“ V sits down at the table towards Hanako, Takemura remains next to Hanako and starts talking to her in Japanese „Hanako-sama. This is the woman I spoke of. Please, listen on what she has to say.“ V looks straight at her, she on the other hand avoids her eyes „Hanako. I was there when it happened. It was Yorinobu. He…he had an argument with your father, said he had enough and then strangled him. I saw it with my own eyes.“ Hanako looks at V, her face full of disgust and arrogance. „You must be mad to think I will listen to such nonsense. Who are you to think you can talk to me this way?!“

V rolls her eyes, she had seen enough of her kind in the Corpo world, people like her don’t change. They are the same type. Let them hear what they want to hear, offer them something they can use for themselves and they are yours - well and you're theirs - if you keep the bargain. V leans forward both elbows on the table. „Look. I know it’s a lot to take in, let alone believe. I also know you are an honorable person, worthy of trust. And that’s why I wanna make you an offer.“ Finally, Hanako looks at V „You? Make me an offer?“ „Exactly. The Relic your brother tried to hawk off to NetWatch is in my head. Right now. Took a bullet to the brain, but the tech on the biochip saved me. Now, it’s slowly killing me.“ V quickly glances over at Takemura, he was looking at his hands. „One of you personality constructs, engrams, is overwriting my psyche. Gotta stop the process before it’s too late. I know you got the means to help me. And this first case sure will be interesting for Arasaka as well.“

Right after V finishes her sentence Takemura makes a few steps towards Hanako, a touch of desperation in his voice „Hanako-sama!“, while he is talking he was unable to keep his eyes off V, „V is living proof of the terrible crime your brother committed. We can confirm every word she speaks if only you will help her with the Relic. It is a matter of life and death.“ As Hanako doesn’t answer he turns his eyes away from V and toward her. „Hanako-sama?“ She looks down again, still not answering.

A clanking sound could be heard from the hallway. Out of reflex, V and Takemura both grab their weapons. He faces her, whispering again „Did you hear that?“ She nods „Can you check?“ He asks her and she thinks she sees a deeply worried expression on his face again for a short time. Wordlessly she stands up, tightens her weapon holster, reloads her weapon, and silently walks over to the door, „I got a bad feeling about this.“ She places one ear at the door, nothing. Carefully she opens it a gap, nothing. The door creaks a bit as she opens it even wider and looks into the hallway.

„No, not now!“ Although she could not see anything in front of her, the next moment she is crouching on the floor. At Takemura's outcry and the accompanying machine-gun sounds, her body had reacted automatically. He is still at the table, shielding Hanako. The next moment, however, she is blinded by a grenade and could no longer see anything and shortly after the ground beneath her feet collapses and she falls into the darkness.

V, wake up! Johnnys face appears over hers. Last chance to get the fuck outta here! V needs a while to orient herself. „No, Goro. Can’t leave him back there!“ Forget him, guy’s toast! Less’ you wanna wind up like him! The sensation of a fist hitting her in the stomach at full tilt, no, it couldn't be. Stumbling slightly, she frees herself from the concrete remains of the former floor. He can’t be dead. Again she pulls out her gun and makes her way into the hallway, her heart racing, eyes watering from the dust in the air and the possibility of her next loss.

V sneaks past some Arasaka soldiers to the closest stairwell. The fuck you doin’? You lost it?! He’s beyond any sort of help! I wanna see this for myself! She climbs up the stairs, taking her shotgun and shoots her way recklessly to the following floor and the room, not listing to the voice in her head telling her to turn around. Around another corner and she could hear others regardless of her own gunshots. Encouraged by this, she jumps over the collapsed ceiling back into the room where they were sitting earlier and eliminates two more soldiers.

She glances around the room. Nothing, her breath became heavy, she feels a lump in her throat, more tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Behind her, she hears the reloading of a gun. She quickly turns around and points hers at the suspect. Takemura had emerged from his cover aiming at her. „V! You are alive?!“ His voice full of pain, breathless. „You should not have returned! You will die here with me!“ V lowers her gun, still looking at him. She doesn’t care that her eyes were burning from the dust and concrete and that they watered to protect themselves and out of relief to see him standing here. „Then so be it.“

He walks a few steps towards her, his eyebrows raised, an expression on his face she hadn’t seen before. „V…I…“ „There is no time, thank me later. We need to find a way out now - fast!“ „There are empty rooms to the right. It’s our only chance!“ They creep through the dark rooms, lit only by flare cartridges until they reach the exit which is blocked by several soldiers. The soldiers discover them first, an exchange of fire inevitable. Takemura steps in front of V, shielding her and starts shooting first.

Ultimately, only V and Takemura are left standing. Breathlessly she asks „You hurt?“ Takemura is crouching on the ground „I do not think so, you?“ She shakes her head. Though when they walk out of the door she collapses, her sight glitching, head nearly exploding. No, not again. Around them they could hear drones and helicopters. „V, we have to keep going!“ She is shaking, twitching, unable to get control over her body. The world is spinning. „I…I can’t.“ Two strong hands lift her up, carrying her way.

„The cab!“ she mumbles and was grateful to have chosen it today. It would blend perfectly into the traffic. „Bring us out of the city!“ Takemura demanded as he lays V down softly onto the backseat, leaning over her once again. Her vision stabiles again. „Now approaching ‚Badlands‘, please provide a more informative location as soon as possible.“ The cab starts to drive forward slowly. She looks up at Takemura „Feels like a déjà vu. Can you help me up?“ Takemura nods and helps her to sit up straight, he places himself next to her.

As they start to maneuver through the traffic, V connects her personal link to the cab „I have an idea where we should be safer than…“ interrupted by gunshots she was just able to enter the coordinates. Takemura had already leaned out the window and started shooting down the drones. V mimics him shortly after.

Together, they manage to lose the drones just as they entered the Badlands. Panting, V gets rid of her jacket, checking first her arms, chest and then legs for wounds. Unbelievably, she is unharmed. She looks over at Takemura „You injured?“ He shakes his head without checking. „You?“ „No.“ As she was done reloading her weapons in her holster he is still staring at her. „Thank you V. You saved my life.“ She snorts „Guess we are even.“ But there wasn’t a sign of a grin on his face.

„The last twenty-four hours…I thought you died, twice.“ His voice hoarse „I understood at the parade what you had told me on the roof…when Oda attacked you. I still understand it now and I regret not understanding it earlier.“ He takes her hand tenderly. „V, I do not want to lose you either.“ Her heart skips a beat. Takemura pulls her towards him. She slips onto his lap and supports herself on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. They were full of worry, yet full of relief. Both of his hands wander to her jaw, pulling her in for a kiss. Kissing her even hungrier, needier than back in the elevator, tongues more wildly caressing. She moves both hands to the cool metal of his neck while he lets his one slide into her hair, pulling her even closer into the kiss.

When V takes a small break she hears a husky moan slip away from him, she returns the kiss more demanding before pulling away. „So, this okay now?“ She whispers hoarsely. He answers in his mother tongue, her cybernetics providing translations. „はい、今まで以上にあなたが欲しいです Yes. I want you. Now.“ His eyes pitch black, just the small white ring around them indicating where his pupils are moving. His mouth slightly opened, they scan her face, her eyes, cheekbones, lingering on her lips. She grins daring, as her hands stroke over his shoulders to his neck and the collar of his shirt, hastily unbuttoning it. Takemura leans his head back, skims over her back to her hips and makes her slide down further into his crotch. She had to inhale sharply, could already feel his erection. She continues to unbutton his shirt now even faster, removing it and revealing a t-shirt underneath.

Just as she was about to rip the shirt off, Delamain interrupts them both. „We have arrived at the desired location.“ V opens the door to get out, almost falling to the ground while climbing off Takemuras lap. Panam was already running at her. „V, what the fuck are you doing here?!“ „Sorry, we need supplies, maybe firepower. We are on the way to the small house where we hid with Saul. Hopefully, Arasaka won’t find us there and we can lie low for a bit.“ „Arasaka? V what you have done now?“ V raises her eyebrows in confusion „Wait, what are you talking about then?“ „I am talking about this.“ And Panam points to Vs back. And when she turns around she understood what Panam meant. A mile-high wave of red sand was crawling straight their way, swallowing cacti and cars. Even bigger than the one a few days ago. „Oh fuck me, do you have any supplies you can spare at hand? We need to go, I will explain everything later!“

Wordlessly, V throws the bag of supplies onto the backseat, before quickly slamming the door, hopping on the driver's seat, and hitting the gas. On the soft ground, the tires spin, but soon they had picked up speed again. Takemura leans forward, through the seat. His hand clenched to his side. „V, I have never seen such an impressive sandstorm before. We need to find a shelter. “ „I know, we will be there soon. Can you open up the seat in the middle, grabbing the bag from the trunk?“ „What is in it?“ „A blanket, whisky and bandages, toothbrush, fresh underwear, a spare shirt, some water, additional ammo…Stuff I need when I am on the road for a while. Always take it with me, just in case.“

Suddenly V loses grip of the wheel for a second and the car drifts off a bit as the wall of sand hits them „Fuck.“. They couldn’t see anything now, neither inside nor outside. „Night-mode activated.“ Delamain announces as the side and ceiling LEDs start lighting up. „Shit, I will have to follow the small map and hope we don’t hit the cabin or maybe better if we do.“ V presses a button and a larger screen with a local map appears. She wields it to the back. „Goro, can you check for anything that looks like a building on here?“ „To our left is a small square, that it?“ „Maybe, I hope so. Don’t know how long Delamain’s gonna last in this storm.“ „Approximately 10 more minutes before a critical condition of the filters will be reached.“ „Thanks, Del.“

„A little more to the right than we should be there.“ Takemura alludes, ��Good.“ V interrupts him quickly. They wouldn’t have much time. „‘Soon as we are there, you take the bags and go inside immediately, shut the door fast. I will check on the generator and make sure it’s running.“ „No V, let me do this.“ He answers, insisting. „No, Goro. I appreciate your well-meant suggestion, but only I know where the switch is…After I am done we have to barricade the door somehow, so neither Arasaka nor this storm can enter.“ „Understood, be careful V and hurry please.“

At least this plan is going smoothly. She leans against the door while Takemura pushes the nearby dresser against it. They also find a roll of duct tape which they used to tape up a few of the cracks. It would be a miracle if Arasaka would find them here in the next hours while the storm rages.

The heater was already running, immersing the entire room in orange-red light. "Not much, but better than nothing." V wipes her face with her arm, sits down on the dresser and takes a sip of water. In the meantime, Takemura insisted to search the few rooms again to make sure that everything is safe. „And? Everything still safe this time?“ Slightly angry she hears him in the bedroom answering „Do not mock me V, one can never be certain enough.“

Eventually, Takemura walks out of the bedroom, advancing with great strides towards her. He reaches her, slides his right hand over her cheek into her hair and pulls her into a fierce kiss. V moans at the suddenness, dropping her water bottle. His hands wander to her lower back, drawing her body closer. She could feel heat building up where they both meet. She reaches down to the end of his t-shirt and slides it over his head, tossing it aside. They hardly notice the fierce wind that strikes the hut.

Finally, she was able to slide her hands over his abs to his shoulders, could feel she makes his flesh crawl. V takes her time taking the view all in. He follows every movement she makes, pupils widened. Carefully she strokes over his augmentations and all the way back to his belt, sliding two fingers under it. As he leans in to kiss her again she grabs his jaw forcefully, stopping his motion. Then, guiding him backwards to the couch until his back of the knee hits it and makes him drop onto it.

Takemura grabs her again with more strength this time, pulling her in his lap, kissing her. She slides her hands over his back, but feels something wet on her hands. She pushes him away and looks at them - dark red blood. „Fuck Goro, this yours?“ he looks at her in confusion. She slips next to him and checks his back. There was a bullet hole near his shoulder blade. No exit wound. Shit. „I do not feel anything V, what is it?“ „You won’t like this. I...“ he reaches for his back and she guides his hand to the injury. „Ah I see. You need to get the bullet out for me. I should not be deep, the endoskeleton on my shoulder blades should have prevented a deeper intrusion.“

V quickly grabs the whisky, bandages and looks for something to grab the bullet. After searching the kitchen drawers she finds a tong. After disinfecting it and Takemura had emptied half the whisky bottle she sits behind him. „Ready?“ She had never done something like this before „Yes. We should get this done quickly. The adrenaline will soon start to vanish.“ Okay she can do this. The best way to start would be, uhm, maybe… „V?“ Takemura turns around. „One second.“ She grabs the whisky and slugs down a good amount before handing it back to him. „I have never done this before. How should I start?“

Takemura guides her through the whole process. Meanwhile, the wind was still howling against the door. Lastly the bullet was out of his body, the wound disinfected, well bandaged, the whisky empty. „We should wash the blood off.“ V was still a little paralyzed by the fact that she had just performed surgery on him. „Yea sure. Just gimme a sec.“ He was already under the shower when she managed to get up and search her bag. She grabs a towel, an oversized clean shirt, since hers was drenched in blood, too, and underwear. Now she was standing awkwardly in front of the bathroom, waiting for Takemura to finish showering. She hears him stepping out of the shower „I uh, I have a clean towel.“ She holds it up in front of the doorframe.

She didn't know exactly why she wasn't just going in - after all, she had been sitting on his lap minutes earlier and had quite different things planned to do with him. But she had lost all her courage in the surgery it seems. He accepted it gratefully and when V also steps out of the bathroom freshly showered, Takemura is already sitting on a mattress he had moved over, half-covered with a blanket in front of the stove. On the ground two beer bottles, a few bags of chips and protein bars. V sits down next to him, slips under the covers too, grabbing two bottles and hands one to him.

„Fuck Goro, these last weeks. I…Every week I think ‘nothing can top this day, for sure’ and somehow it gets topped. Every. Fucking. Day.“ They both look at each other and start laughing out loud. All the tension and adrenaline of the last few hours finally and slowly falls off of them. At last, V wipes her eyes from the tears of laughter before Takemura is the first to start talking again. „You should come to Japan. It is a lot quieter. I think it would do you good. A little rest and vacation is exactly what you deserve right now.“

She shoves away the thought about the biochip „That would actually be pretty nice.“ And simply smiles at him, but wasn’t able to make it look convincing. They finish the beers in silence. The wind had become even stronger in the last hour. They could almost hear how every single grain of sand scraped into the wood. A miracle that the hut held at all. When she leaned sideways she noticed how her vision lagged a little behind. „So how’s your back?“ „It hardly hurts. Even if I have to admit that this is probably largely due to the alcohol.“ „Let me check.“

Takemura slightly turns and V gently strokes over his back. „Looks good. Still clean, the bleeding must have stopped.“ She continues to travel with her fingers upward to his neck and cheek. He turns to her. They were so close again that she could see every detail of his eyes, in which she could lose herself so incredibly easily. Once again they end up kissing, but this time slower, calmer, taking their time. One of his hands resting on her back, the other on her thigh. She could taste the beer on his lips.

V lets her hands wander down his abs down to his crotch. He moans, lips parted, not once looking away from her, his eyelids heavy as V gets up. Standing in front of him she crosses her arms over her head, removing her shirt. Then stepping out of her panties. Standing In front of him, completely naked and he takes it all in.

Takemura reaches forward, pushing the blanket away, pulling her onto his lap. She could feel him growing harder. Like V before, he slides his fingers over her stomach, over her breasts and collarbone to her jaw. She takes his hand, placing his thumb between her teeth, closing her lips around it, driving deeper into his lap. „ファック…“ he hisses before pulling her in again, laying kisses onto her shoulder and neck. She could feel his beard scratching, sending tingles over her soft skin, before finding her mouth again. With each kiss, her chest tingles more intensely, her breathing faster, heart racing.

They pause, their lips barely touching, breathing in each other's air. Takemura tries to move her gently onto the mattress, but groans in pain. „Goro, we can stop.“ „No. I don’t know what will happen after tomorrow. If we both make it out of this.“ He brushes a few strands out of her face, cupping her cheek „I wish we would have more time.“ „Me too.“ She wraps both arms around him and kisses him deeply.

She lifts herself up so he was able to remove his pants. He places kisses on her chest and neck again. V searches Takemuras gaze and finds it, before letting herself slide onto his length, starting to move her hips slowly. They both groan at the sensation. At that moment, for the first time in weeks, V thought of nothing at all. She was completely immersed in this moment, she didn't care about her future any longer. Only him and her, that’s what matters. She takes a small break, keeping her hips completely still, leaning down to kiss him, before continuing with her movements, faster than before.

She uses to couch to support herself, thrusting down harder with every movement. She could feel his hand around her throat, pressing it softly as his breath quickens too. Every now and then their gazes meet before his eyes turn to her body that moves rhythmically up and down. V finds a steady rhythm, moving her hips quicker, digging her fingers into his shoulders. He grabs her hips, pulling her down harder. Moans are now escaping them with increasing frequency, high pitched mixed with low groans blend with the harsh wind of the storm.

Takemura slips his hand between her legs assisting her to reach climax. „Fuck“ she cries out, as she notices a tingling sensation moving from the place where he touches her upward through her entire body. He puts his knees up so she can lean back while he continues to massage her. „Goro, I…Fuck.“ she lets her head fall into her back as her vision fades to black, the tingling sensation dissolving into pleasure. After a few seconds, her breathing calmed down and her vision was clear again.

V pulls him close, kissing him hard. Takemura groans as he grabs her hair tightly and she starts to move her hips again. His groans become louder with each thrust. His eyelids heavy, glancing at her one last time before his eyes close and he inhales sharply. „ファック、V.“ He buries his face in her chest, inside her she feels a pulsing sensation, before he leans back slowly, his eyes still closed.

Freshly showered they are lying next to each other, snacking on some chips. The storm still raging outside. „How is your back?“ V asks. „The pain is back now. But I feel a lot better. Even the food doesn’t taste as bad as normal.“ He smiles at her. A few minutes pass, they finish up eating. She slips next to him under his covers, resting her head on his chest. He gently strokes her back. „I wish this storm would never end.“ She admits quietly, Takemura deeply sighs „A part of me wishes this too.“

[kiivg]

i looove the art u did of ur V in that hammock bed with the screens in the background and Jackie below, but what's ur V up to exactly? is he editing the recordings? whats his job?

.Tysm!!!! My V, Gianluca Vargas, is part of my 3Vs AU, so he’s not my main V canonically, but he’s probably the one I like playing the most because I get to run around in flashy suits and kiss Takemura 💋. My actual V is Gianluca’s ex, and Sunny’s half-sister (never going to play as her, I just need someone to be mean to Johnny, be hardcore pro-Arasaka, and then die at the end.)

.So his job is basically an AI (or digital idk) sex worker kind of thing, (idk if that’s what a Brain Dance is because they’re confusing af), where he basically controls a private area of the net that’s his own, and caters mostly to rich clientele. He has default programs that he’s made himself which the AIs run on and he can dip in and out to control them to make the whole situation more personal. On the picture he’s controlling LynchMO8 as his main, but he’s running three others at the same time, and recording BeccaMO6 for further purposes (maybe blackmail, maybe to sell on to others as a separate BD experience). Essentially, hardly anyone knows he’s the one who’s running the whole operation, and WHY would they, he’s a scumbag Valentino from The Glen harhar. Each one of the AIs has Cerdita tattooed however (that’s his left hand, which is basically an AI in its own right,) so it’s like his brand I guess? But I think I called his business Mañana Vices?

.Gianluca is also low-key obsessed with Delamain, and the way he controls and entire fleet of vehicles with little to no issue, (until the big old quest, which maybe I solely concentrated on so I could get all the dialogue of Delamain rediscovering everything again hehehe..) So he runs as many AIs as he can, and has five sockets in his head where he can jack straight into things. He’s never going to be Delamain (as much as he wants to be) but he’s going to keep trying.

.He’s definitely a skilled Netrunner, and the majority of his money came from hacking companies and stealing it, so he could support his sister as she went through the training to become a member of Trauma Team. But then he was like “Huh I LIKE money” so he just kept stealing. He is the one who does all the netrunning in my 3Vs, like he helps to catch the Peter Pan guy for River, helps to interrogate Anders before Takemura shows up, actually probably does 80% of Takemura’s questline because V is too busy elsewhere.

.The link with Jackie is literally that Jackie was really close to V, and she and Gianluca were mostly sweethearts growing up and then she went corporate, and now they’re just friends with benefits. Which is basically if she needs something hacking, she’ll just rock up and things go from there. So him and Jackie are like acquaintances, but they’re close enough to just chill out together every so often, I don’t think he and Misty get along though since she read his tarot and hit a little too close to home. Plus I like to think that Gianluca has a dad who’s sweet on Mama Welles hehehe.

.Anyway, on the subject of Gianluca, here’s a little kind of smutty thing of him and Takemura 👹💋💕. (Also I’m posting off my phone so maybe the formatting is awful.).

When the knock came at the side of his van, Takemura was quick to gather his weapon, finger hovering over the trigger, concealed within the darkness of his vehicle. His mind had slipped elsewhere, thinking through the realities of what they were planning to do, what they had to do, and how it could very easily go so wrong. He keeps his mouth closed, trying to discern footsteps from the heavy patter of rain, waiting for the intruder to either pass along or open fire. There was every chance it was a drunkard in the night, and every other chance that it was a bounty hunter seeking his head. He steadies himself as he had been trained to do, slowing his breath, slowing his heart rate. It had been done a thousand times before, waiting to strike like a viper in the shadows.

The knock appears at his window, a pale shroud of a man slapping a flat palm against the dirtied glass. He points with a finger to the locking mechanism with the same hand, his other raised above his head, holding a jacket aloft to keep himself somewhat dry. The man knocks again, more urgently, gesturing somewhat wildly to the rain that pelts him from above, before trying the door handle futilely. Takemura can see the man’s lips moving, glinting in reflected city light; but the words he could not hear.

It takes a moment, far longer than just a moment, for Takemura’s eyes to adjust to the way the lights of Night City dazzle upon the pale shroud, illuminating him in a halo of advertising pinks and purples, to recognise him; V’s netrunner. The one she has saved in her holo as “Gives Good Head”. A fact Goro had not wanted to know, and yet, it was a thought hooked into the back of his head every time he had seen the man. With a golden triangle tattooed onto plump lips, a set of golden teeth behind them, always fiddling with something; a cigarette, the nails of his organic hand, the straw of an ungodly sweetened drink he had already drank and thrown away, putting anything he could between those lips to keep them busied.

Takemura lets him in.

A button pressed and the door unlocks, he leans over to pull the handle, unlatching and leaving it open just a touch. His weapon is slipped quietly into his holster, safety back on, and he removes what debris he can from the passenger seat. Old papers from a previous owner, a corporate magazine with Yorinobu’s face plastered across it, the wrappers of several burgers he would not willingly admit to eating. There is a fumble as the man, Luca, climbs in, jostling a vinyl bag into Takemura’s lap, and slamming the van door behind him with a heavy sigh. The bottom of it is dripping with rainwater, no doubt left on the floor as he had tried to beg his way into the safety of the vehicle.

Gianluca’s cheeks are flushed, from the cold or the rain, but with the heavier breaths Takemura assumes he had been running. “Were you followed?” He asks, fingers pressed to the ignition. He glances in the mirrors, and then in the screens that show him the rear of the vehicle and the sides consecutively. Nothing but the rain and all that accompanies it.

“What? No, it’s fucking raining,” Gianluca gestures to the outside, “mierda.” He squirms in the passenger seat, attempting to swipe the rain from his impromptu umbrella-cum-jacket, soaked through, and trying to pull the fabric of his slacks away from where they cling to his skin, also soaked through. If Takemura was a man of lesser standing it would be hard to tear his eyes away from the sight, and yet, he doesn’t, knowing that would be far more suspicious than simply staring. Rather he replaces his confusion with a frown, silently chastising the younger man for his shuffling and wiggling as he tries to readjust himself into a comfier situation.

Gianluca was wearing white. Or a close enough colour to it. In the low light of the rearview screen it looks green, and when an advert for Us Cracks billows brightly above Night City it turns pink. Yet it remains white in Takemura’s mind; white slacks, white jacket, white shirt; all wet and now significantly opaque, offset with black and gold waistcoat, tie and shoes. And with a glance down, black underwear, visible now, thanks to the sudden onset of heavy rain. If the man notices Takemura staring, he says nothing, only settles in his seat apologetically, trying to steady his uneven breaths.

“I bought coffee, and food,” he gestures to the bag, a peace offering, a patterned red thing, “I figured you should stop trying to find Japan in Night City, so I got patatas bravas, empanadas, tamales, and churros, for after.” He takes foil lined boxes out of the bag as he speaks, shaking each one to hear the rattle of food before he discerns what it is. It does not go unnoticed that the churros are placed closer to himself than Takemura, the man’s incessant sweet tooth staking a claim on the sugary snacks. Each box leaves a small ring of steam on the inside window, fighting valiantly against the chill of the weather outside.

“I am not hungry.” Takemura lied, returning his gaze to the building opposite, thinking back to the task at hand, and not of Gianluca’s spread position as he plucks at the fabric between his thighs. From the way he sits, each inch of clothing is either a creased hill of bunched fabric, or a damp puddle of tattooed skin blended beneath a synthetic silk mix.

He glances back to Gianluca when the man lurches forward, tugging off the waistcoat and unknotting his tie. He hangs his jacket from the back of his headrest, the van rocking as he turns to check and see there was nothing back there that would cause it damage. His waist coat is next, and his tie is rolled up, held in his tight fists until water droplets run down into the cuffs of his shirt, and then placed on the shoulder of his seat. Part of Takemura wants to chastise the man for taking over a space that was not his, and the other part, the part which likes knowing the three words V had resigned the man to, likes watching tattooed hands run across the damp shirt, wrinkles smoothed, pulled taut and damp over hardening nipples.

“You don’t have to eat now, Takemura, but it’s good food, and I promised abuelita I’d, you know,” he gestures limply and without definition, grabbing the bag and setting the boxes back inside. He hesitates with the small box of churros, lamenting the treat he would have to leave in the hands of another man. It’s something to distract him, focusing on the smell of the food, and then the strong bitterness of brewed coffee as Gianluca pulls the decorated flask out. Without his optics he cannot smoothly translate the words carved in Spanish, but the small upturn of Luca’s lips tells him they were written fondly.

It’s more of a planned picnic than an impromptu dash around the streets for something that resembles a meal. Homemade, Takemura thinks, a twitch in his stomach that can’t decide whether to swell with affection or curdle with jealousy. His own grandmother had raised him as a child, before Arasaka, and he can see love in the way Gianluca handles the boxes, the flask, the way he pours coffee from it and into the small cups. Abuelita, he thinks, trying to conjure an image that would suit the title, trying to figure out how Night City had bred a woman who would give her fully grown grandson, a thief, a ganger, and more even, a perfectly wrapped meal and send him out on his way knowing full well that he had his own concealed weapons at hand.

The coffee itself is stronger than he would have liked, and it burns a trail down his chest when he drinks it. Gianluca himself, drops in three pill capsules to his own, and they fizz as they disintegrate, black coffee now swirling with little flecks of pink and blue. A puddle of the night sky held in his palm. He declines one of them when Gianluca offers, smiling to himself when the man drops the fourth in; muttering to himself about how it is only sugar.

It is more than sugar, V had told him when they had met in Tom’s Diner, concentrated and synthetically made. Absurdly sweet, to the point that it made her gag when she had first tried one. Gianluca split the pills himself, one capsule held the contents of three. Different flavours to make one overall combination of saccharine granules. An abomination, Takemura had thought, wondering how he felt as if he could now smell that over the bitterness of his own drink.

“You have told your grandmother about me?” Takemura asks, glancing back at the red bag, placed closely in the rear of the van. How much? He wonders at first; Saburo-sama’s failed bodyguard, an Arasaka outlaw, a rat from Chiba 11 who was given everything and failed his only purpose.

“No,” Gianluca says, sighing as he swallows a gulp of coffee, shrugging as the warmth blooms in his chest too, “well, just a little.” His smile is coquettish as he glances over, cradling his plastic mug in hand, blowing the steam as it rises to his lips.

“You should not have done this, anyone who knows-” Takemura starts.

“Is at risk, si, si, I said you’re a friend of a friend who’s a little run down.” His worries are not dissuaded off by Gianluca’s limp wave, nor by the way he shrugs out his admittance. “Anyway, she’ll be pissed if you don’t try some.” He points a thumb at the food, raising his brows in a way that relayed his message in all seriousness.

For a moment Takemura feels a pang of something in his gut, a slight worry over disappointing the faceless figment of a grandmother of the man beside him, over being judged by the same woman. The pang sets in the scales of his stomach, balanced out by Gianluca’s behaviour, which tells him that the younger man had spoken of him fondly enough that said grandmother had made him the equivalent of a packed lunch. Or perhaps she was simply like that, perhaps Gianluca was simply like that. Helpful; and in Night City? The words don’t sit comfortably together.

“A friend of a friend?” He asks, sipping at his coffee, watching the way Gianluca swirls his own by tipping his wrist, stirring the sugar as he pours himself a second cup. Personally, he didn’t believe that friend of a friend described him accurately enough. He wasn’t friends with V. Their relationship was one of purely business. She had seen what had happened at Konpeki, and Takemura needed her statement. There was little more to it.

But Gianluca, he hadn’t been there. Takemura didn’t need the man. And yet, throwing him from his van hadn’t even crossed his mind. Granted, his mind could easily excuse it; Gianluca was an exceptional netrunner, the man had skills and a certain know-how of a great many things that neither V nor Takemura knew how to do. Even V had explained to him, if there was a way of getting Gianluca to the parade float without danger, he’d be able to hack it without the daemon that Takemura had purchased, and he’d probably do it faster than V could upload it. But he was a coward, his chosen implants spoke to that, and was mostly useless in a firefight.

He would be useful in other, more specific ways, is what V had told him, as she had first shared his contact information. Not that Takemura had been tech savvy enough to be able to change the name of him, and with his pride and previous blunders, hadn’t asked anyone to help him to do so.

So he remains, Gives Good Head.

And if Takemura had to explain that to anyone, he’d struggle beyond what was reasonable. Because there would be no way for him to know either way, despite the flirtatious nature of the man, despite the way he mouthed at everything and anything he could. Takemura couldn’t simply just ask; and there sits the struggling thought, because he didn’t know what he would ask, specifically. If he questioned the title, then Gianluca would either have to lie, or be believed to be lying, or demonstrate if the monicker lived up to standard.

“You did not mention V?” Takemura asks, holding his dwindling cup out to be refilled, staring at the black liquid as it decants, eyes flickering from it to Luca’s hand, to the damp collar of his shirt, to the way his hair dries awkwardly around the face. He can see the soft whirring of cybernetics on his pupils, a dimly lit gold as he runs through whatever data breach he explores.

“Why would I? She doesn’t like her, she’s not making any of this for someone like V,” he offers another smile, plump lips pulled taut, “just accept the food, Takemura, not everything needs to be dissected.” He holds up his own cup, tapping it against Takemura’s, before downing it himself. He hums in undecided agreement, staring at the steam that rises from his cup. Perhaps it did need dissecting. If Gianluca couldn’t hack the float by himself, more or less even have a reason to do so, why was he still here? Bringing coffee and food like this was something else, as if they weren’t scouting for information on the parade floats, as if he was a friend of a friend.

From the corner of his eye he can see Gianluca readjusting himself, pulling at the crotch of his slacks, picking at the damp fabric. Thumb held behind his belt as he stops it from digging into his gut, trying to relax and ignoring the squelch of wet fabric against wet fabric as he moves.

He was handsome, Takemura knew this, Takemura had seen this. Takemura knew that Gianluca also knew he was handsome too. It had been easy to see the way he had flirted with those around them, with street food vendors and passersby, with the NCPD when they got a little too suspicious, a tilt to his hips, a wink, his tongue pressing against that golden triangle. Like a peacock, he thought. Brightly fanned tail feathers like a shield around him. Takemura held reserve on it all, trying not to think of the contact on his holo, trying not to look when Gianluca raised his hips to pluck his slacks from where they uncomfortably cling to his arse.

“You and V have a history?” Takemura asks. He already knew, her holo contact, but there was more behind it. Which meant there was more to all this, and Gianluca was wrong; this did need to be dissected. Because if she was paying him, then that meant she might be paying others, and that was an endless list of people who might know where Takemura was. And if not that, then blackmail, if V had something to hold over Gianluca, surely the man, coward or not, would find a way out of the trap she had set for him.

“Si.” He admits, thumping back down into his seat with a bounce, angling himself to the side so he could look at Takemura head on. He sits on one side of his hips, legs crossed at the ankles, his clothes were drier now. Still damp, still smelling of Night City’s rain water, but less see-through, whiter now.

“If there is more to this, then I would like to know.” Takemura explains, his voice lowering a tone, trying to convey the words he didn’t want to speak. “If it could affect what we aim to do.” He adds.

“Are you asking professionally or…”

“Yes.” He says quickly, not wanting to entertain the idea of this being anything but business. There had been many within Arasaka’s training camps who had felled their own training over a lover, over quick trysts in silent corners. Takemura had not been one of them. Where the urge arose he squashed it down, and when he couldn’t deny himself any longer, when his body thrummed with arousal and desire, when heat and sex and lust dropped off of him like sweat, like an overfilled cup of coffee, like rainwater off a white suit, he pushed it down again. Further, deeper, and restrained himself mentally in ways that would so often break other men.

Takemura had patience and willpower, an uncanny ability to simply deny the part of him that wanted to lose himself with another for just a few moments. A few moments back then would have cost him a lifetime, a few moments now; he dared not entertain, and yet-

“We had a thing back when we were teenagers, she was my first proper output, gave me my first blowjob a couple blocks from here,” Gianluca’s words fall so unapologetically from his tongue, wet and organic in a self imposed gilded cage of teeth, “she got a job with Arasaka, I stayed in the Glen, we fuck when she gets a little homesick.” Takemura has to chew on his own tongue, he was homesick, he was only a couple blocks from a couple blocks away, he was trapped in his own vehicle with a gilded man dripping onto the centre console, talking about fucking a woman, talking about giving head, giving Good head.

“And you two are…” He clears his throat awkwardly, unwilling to say the next words. Because Gianluca was beautiful, and V was beautiful, and Takemura’s hormonal balance regulators had been turned off along with everything else, and he had unwittingly grown used to them thrumming away in his body, limiting the things he had taught himself to deny naturally.

“Are you asking professionally? Because I’m sitting in your van, in this pinche clima, in this soaked suit, and compiling all the information I can get off the Arasaka compound; and I’m not doing it just to get that puta to ride my dick.” Gianluca inches over, leaner closer, lowering his voice from where it had been raised in disbelief and annoyance. “There are easier ways to… mierda, Takemura, pa ti. That’s why.” He jabs a finger in Takemura’s direction, pointedly enough that he looks down, and then back up into Gianluca’s eyes. Golden lines turning as he tries, fails, to connect with Takemura’s own disabled optics, a hitch in the download as he turns his gaze back to the building beyond them.

He readjusts himself again as he sits back in the passenger seat, and Takemura’s gaze does not flee his form, not immediately. Because perhaps he had fooled himself, and he was a lesser man than he thought he was, because now the only image in his head was V writhing in Gianluca’s lap, head thrown back, arched and panting and wanton and brimming with lust and decorated with sweat. And so easily does she fade, replaced by his own body.

A part of him laments the image, laments the desire to take Gianluca’s cock in hand and press it inside of himself, and so he turns back to the building in the distance. Because it should be the other way around, he should have Luca on him, his status would demand it. He could not debase himself in front of a lesser man, a younger man, to give his most intimate parts up so freely to someone like Gianluca. A larger part of him doesn’t care, because the images playing in his mind increase twofold. Of being inside of Luca, of being on top of Luca, of being underneath Luca, of being spread legged with wide tattooed shoulders under his thighs, and a mouth, lips tattooed, tongue organic, teeth gilded, pressed open against his cock.

“I knew it was going to rain, waited for it, even.” Gianluca whispers. A soft admittance under the patter of raindrops. And when Takemura turns he sees the man dissected, his reasons laid bare.

He had the foresight to bring a vinyl bag that wouldn’t crumple with the weight of water, and not an umbrella to save himself the same misery. To bring food that would keep its heat, coffee the same, enough to warm himself that he would need another reason to shed his clothes; his damp clothes, pale and sticky against darker skin. He had sat in Takemura’s van drenched in sheer fabric, tugging and pulling at it, guiding his gaze in a dance across his body, a display, an allure; hands pressed against his thighs, his groin, his chest, sat lower in his seat so his hips pushed up, black underwear a stark contrast to everything he was and wore.

With tentative fingers he pulls a glittering datashard from his neck, eyes settling to their natural colour, and offers it to Takemura without need for recompense. For you, pa ti. A compilation of what he had gathered from the compound, a gift to help with the sabotaging of the parade.

He is dissected. He is lain bare. He is dressed in raindrops and distant city light.

And Takemura kisses him.

He grabs the offered wrist and pulls him close, pressing chapped lips to Luca’s own tattooed ones. His breath is sugary, his tongue more so. Takemura claws his hand around the back of Gianluca’s neck, pulling him closer like a chained dog, fingers digging into organic flesh and cybernetics alike. He can feel the stubble of hair growth as he grips harder, pressing himself closer; encouraging, if not forcing the younger man to open his mouth fully and share what lays there.

The heavy thrum of his heartbeat is felt through his wrist, a rising thudding beneath Takemura’s fingertips. It sings in time with Luca’s desperate grunt, the sound of his rings clacking against Takemura’s own neck. And when he squeezes harder he hears Luca’s moan over the sound of raindrops, open mouthed and whining, stuttering as Takemura’s tongue pressed in against his own. He yields so easily to him, letting him grab and take and pull, pushing against him with the same ferocity, keening into the state of being devoured.

Gianluca bites at Takemura’s lip as he tries to pull away, following him with kisses to his cheek, his jaw, golden teeth catching against the cybernetics of his neck. He bites down where flesh meets metal, upper teeth scraping his jawline, decorating the plates with his tongue as Takemura groans into the open air.

“You planned this.” Takemura heaves, accusing him as if he hadn’t instigated the kiss himself, catching his breath deep in his lungs. Gianluca pulls back, only the inch that the other man’s grip would allow, and offers a shining smile, he licks his lips, that golden triangle, and nods.

“Si,” he whispers, “but it’s going better than I expected.” He laughs breathlessly, kissing at the hand around his wrist, laving his tongue against the metalwork, trying to pull the fingers into his mouth. He stares at Takemura all the while, watching those dark brown eyes fall heavy, how his jaw twitches as he grinds his teeth.

With a shuddering breath he releases his grip, and instead, points three fingers together, his fourth curled into his palm, and lets Gianluca take them into his mouth. He kisses them at the joined tip, lets the flat of his tongue drag across them. Lips press down towards the cuff of his jacket, and he inhales deeply. It must smell of synthetic leather and sweat, but Gianluca rises with a smile, nipping at the palm of his hand, of the bumps and callouses there. The edge of his nose pressed against the three fingers as he returns to his beginning, and slowly he nips at those too, opening his lips to take them to the first knuckle.

He grins around them easily enough, forcing his tongue between the trio, curling it, flattening it, letting his saliva coat the inch he has in his mouth. Takemura still watches on, knowing almost entirely what both of them are thinking of, using most of his restraint to stop himself from pressing his free hand against the throb of heat below his gut. His whimper is embarrassing as Gianluca takes the fingers in further, to the second, the third, until his lips are flush against Takemura’s knuckles, and the only thing stopping him from going further is the fourth finger he had not taken. He swallows. And Takemura can feel the constriction of his throat against his fingertips, and the way his cock throbs against the inside of his slacks.

Gianluca pulls off, ever so slowly, allowing Takemura to set the pace as he takes his fingers from between the lips, each one sticky with sugared saliva. It’s sinful, the sight of them, glistening in the lowlight, a match to his lips, damp themselves, and open with staggering breath. It’s mesmerising almost, the ethereal nature of it broken when the datashard is pressed against them; all the information he needs, the reason why they where both here, a veritable tower block against the sight of a flush-faced Gianluca.

“Touch yourself, Takemura.” Gianluca whispers, eyes flickering the to fingers he had swallowed.

“I am.. I am not sure.” He says lamely. It seems inappropriate, what he just did was inappropriate, Gianluca’s hands trailing down his own body, catching on damp wrinkles of his shirt, thumbs pulling open his belt buckle, the sound of his slacks zipper being pulled down, it was all inappropriate.

His internal conflict must be written plainly on his face. The way his eyes skitter back and forth, from his hands to Gianluca’s own, to the younger man’s glossy eyed appearance and down to his own lap; and back to the soft frown that graces Gianluca’s brows, and the sound of a zipper being tugged back up. The sound almost echoed in Takemura’s gut, like a pendulum that swung between regret and relief. He’d never had someone… do that before. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have even entertained the mere thought of it before, and had he done so, Arasaka would have noted the stimulation in his endocrine system and flagged it up to be reviewed, as they always had done.

That in itself came with a sickening feeling of relief. It felt dirty. It felt dirty to want to do what Gianluca asked of him. It felt dirtier to hear those words in his head, over and over, and wonder if he could just take a hold of his own sex in spit-slicked fingers, apologise, and ask the younger man to watch, to touch, to taste.

“Is it me, or… this wasn’t a transactional sex thing, you know,” Gianluca clears his throat awkwardly, swiping a hand back through his hair and muttering to himself, “qué cabrón.” He looks over at Takemura, still holding the datashard aloft in wet fingers, his cock half hard in his slacks, and a heat decorating his cheeks.

A moment sits between them in the lowlight. Neither of them quite knowing exactly what to do. Whatever intimacy had stirred between them had been stalled by Takemura’s hesitance, and with each glance between them, fleeting, nervous, like two deer stuck in each others headlamps, it stalled again.

“Let me…” Gianluca says, turning in his seat to grab his pocket square and pluck the shard from Takemura’s fingers. He takes Takemura’s hand in his own, wiping away the excess saliva he had left, distracting himself by semi-detailing the metal work across his knuckles. “Listen, I can walk home,” he drops the datashard into the empty ashtray, “and, that’ll probably need to be filtered through, I can recheck the guard rota the day before V goes in just for extra safety, might even throw in a weaponry jammer if any open fire on the night and-“

“Gianluca.” Takemura says, halting the man in his stumbling words. He doesn’t know what he is going to say, nor how he intends to speak it in forced English. Instead he turns his hand in his own, bringing the organic knuckles to his lips. The kiss is chaste, less so when he reaches over to press against his lips. “I will drive you home.” He opts to say, knowing that it is merely a delay tactic, and one that is foolish in itself. The small smile at least is worth the detour, even if the words are abstract from their meaning.

With a press of a button the van splutters to life, rattling in protest of not yet being allowed to die its death. And he waits until Gianluca has tossed what remains in their cups from the window, and replaced the flask in the patterned red bag, before he moves off from their location.

The navigation system pings to life, a sultry female voice telling Takemura to take a right in so many kilometres, and congratulating him with flirtatious laughter and innuendo every few commands. An echo of the previous owner’s taste, and one that fully wilts any desire that might have been thriving in Takemura’s mind. “You, uh, you chose her, ¿si?” Gianluca asks behind a closed fist, stifling his laughter. Takemura fixes him with a stare, his face unmoving even as the navigator compliments him on his driving.

It is enough to settle the tense atmosphere they had both created. Even as Takemura’s shoulders grew tighter with each command. At the very least it had been a short drive, and the patter of rain had died down to a slow drizzle. It didn’t, however, give Takemura the time he needed to figure out what the plan for this was. Because he has seen Gianluca knocked back by some of those in Night City, and he had always brushed it off with a grin. Perhaps it was because this was private, because it had just been the two of them. And he didn’t know if it was him by himself, or the lack of onlookers which changed it.

With a wanton moan their navigator announced they had arrived at their destination, and Takemura happily punched enough buttons to shut her off, and then the ignition.

“Try the food, Takemura, it’s good, prometo.” Gianluca says with a reassuring nod. It’s enough to stop Takemura from saying, or doing, anything particularly foolish. He taps his fingers against the ashtray, a quiet reminder that Takemura still had work to do, and plucks his discarded clothing from the back of his seat. “You have my contact, right?” He asks faltering as he grasps the handle, hearing the click of the van door opening. He nods silently, thinking back to the name in his phone, back to the way he had swallowed his fingers. Takemura didn’t know whether to thank V or curse her for those three words of sexual wisdom.

Gianluca lingers as he clambers out, his clothes folded over his arm, a dazzling white now he stood under the city lights. He hovers a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip as if the words he wants to say fail to form on his tongue. Takemura wants to say something himself, but find no words can actually help him in this situation. And were it some soppy screamsheet nonsense, he imagines he might have kissed him farewell, but that was not life in Night City, not for Takemura. No, life for him was watching Gianluca step away, shut the door, and hurriedly enter the apartment complex he lived in.

Takemura punches the ignition button again, waiting for the van to regrettably sputter back to life before pulling away. He had work to do, and he was hungry.

[baka-bakeneko]

Everlong - Takemura x Fem!V Reader [NSFW]

tags: quickie, forced orgasm, dominant Takemura, submissive V

word count: 2.8k

synopsis: V barely escaped with her life after Arasaka stormed in after Hanako. She'll get used to being on the run

a/n: literally, why is it so easy to just keep writing off of the story i've already started. what can i say? i love trilogies. maybe even sagas. (first, second)

You jolted awake in your chair, noticing Johnny walk from the corner of your eye to the dining table. Your eyes boggled softly, the notification that your relic was malfunctioning at the top of your sight.

"Think they make these motels especially for fuck-ups like us?" Johnny asked, leaning forward and pretending to peer out of the busted blinds of the room. "AC's busted, dirty needles under the mattress, shitter's clogged..."

You groaned, tilting your head back to look at the ceiling, splattered with water damage and the fan missing an entire wing. It squeaked lowly, going in displaced circles.

You adjusted your grip on your rifle, your hands sweaty from holding onto it for so long.

"No, seriously, who the fuck comes here to sleep? We're a couple miles outside Night City," Johnny sat down heavily on the table, leaning back to look at the window again. "Someone leavin' town just keeps driving. Somebody going there sleeps in the damn city!"

You blinked slowly, only half-listening to Johnny's rambling. "Johnny, please. Shut. Up."

Johnny crossed an arm over his thigh, sitting forward. "You think you just stepped in shit. Actually, you fell headfirst into a cesspit." He looked to the door, then back at you. "Anyone knocks, blast the fucking door. No warning."

You silently agreed, managing to nod at that. A noise rustled from outside your room, causing you to straighten up in your seat.

"Hear that?"

You shot a dead glare to Johnny then pointed your rifle at the door.

"Car," you said, lowering your voice as you stood up from the chair.

"At this hour? In this place? Finger on the trig, V." Johnny ordered from the table.

You carefully took a soft step towards the door, then another until you were a foot behind it. You stared at the approaching shadow that grew under the door, holding the rifle butt to your shoulder.

You glanced at Johnny when he told you not to touch the door, waiting with bated breath until a soft knock rapped at the door.

You furrowed your brows, turning the safety off of the rifle. A second knock.

You loaded the rifle and released a low, shaky breath at the third knock before you stopped. You looked to Johnny slowly, wondering why this person hadn't just burst in until they knocked a fourth time.

With it clicking, you undid everything on your rifle; uncocking the ammo, replacing the safety and slowly dropping its sight to the floor before allowing the door to pneumatically slide open.

"Goro," you gasped, not helping yourself and almost tackling the man to the floor. You felt yourself turn into the sudden bullet vest, strapping your arms around the man's neck and pulling yourself tight to his chest.

The door shut back just as quickly with Goro stepping inside and crossing an arm around your waist. You wanted to batter the man over again, wanting him to know how incredibly stupid it was for him to show up.

"Oh great, now we're really dead." Johnny griped, pulling both feet onto the table and crossing his arms.

You pulled away slightly, running your hand down Goro's chest as if to assess whatever damages he had. Then you started punching at his chest, only hurting your organic knuckles by the sturdiness of him.

"Why would you come here?" You grimaced, punching at him again. "You're putting us both in danger. You're so stupid, so reckless."

Takemura only withstood it, sparing a soft smirk at the corner of his lips. His arm around you tightened comfortingly, turning his face into your neck.

"I could not stay away, not after how I left you," he muttered against your skin, his lips cold and his beard prickling at your collarbone.

You shied away from him, gearing all your strength to punch him again. "Goro, damn you. You're the one that told me we couldn't risk it."

Goro winced lightly at that punch, sparing an amused huff of breath against your skin. "I know what I said, but I also know that I could not stand by after I put you in danger."

You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting the inkling of you that wanted to give in. Goro's body was warm against you, you could smell a bitter sake on his breath wafting over your shoulder.

"You're painting the target bigger, V," Johnny interrupted your thoughts, appearing over Goro's shoulder to sit on the kitchen nook.

This was not an ideal place to meet again. And if Goro could find you, then it was only a matter of time before Arasaka did. Then it'd be the two of you on the silver platter.

"Goro," you tried, your fist softening to wiggle him away.

"I love you, V. Valerie," Goro corrected himself, straightening up to rest his forehead to yours. "I don't want to cause you pain. I'll truly leave if you'd feel safer."

Your breath hitched before him, parting your lips to tell him to go before you lurched and kissed him. You crashed your lips to his top, hungrily taking him in.

"I don't want you to leave, Goro," you whispered, sharing a breath with him as his hold tightened.

Your legs curled around his waist, holding yourself onto him further while fighting to engorge him whole.

Johnny exhaled deeply to the ceiling, rolling his finger in a circle as if to get the ball rolling. "Cue the fucktage. Wake me when your legs stop shaking."

You ignored him as he blipped out of existence, only grabbing at Goro's button-up to tear it from his body.

Goro crossed his other arm under your thighs, adjusting slightly to palm both of them. He squeezed teasingly up your legs, resting his hands on the apple of your ass and groping softly.

You offered a moan into his mouth, nodding your head to the table that Johnny once occupied. Takemura leaned up against it, pulling away from you as you tore his shirt from his chest.

"We should make this quick," Goro whispered against your lips, hoping to catch them in his orbit again. "We can't stay to morning."

You nodded hastily, stopping to savour his physique as if you hadn't in years. Your fingers traced down his metallic neck, eyes entranced on the passionate red that was embedded in him. Your eyes flicked to meet his, noting the silveresque rings in his eyes brighten.

You nudged closer to his waist, parting your thighs further to rest your knees on the table. "Then we'll make it quick," you said, though you both knew the lie.

Goro nodded back, taking your mouth again as his hands clawed at the back of your pants. You smiled against him, reaching back to stop his strong hands from ruining your limited wardrobe.

He growled into you, his hands sliding away from your waist and up under your shirt. His fingers were cold against your stomach, shrugging your shirt further up before he teased at your nipples.

You jerked softly, taking your hands away from Goro's chest to fold them over his hands under your shirt. "Cold," you muttered into his mouth.

Goro smiled in return, pulling away to tug your shirt and jacket from your body in a folded lump. He dropped it behind you, his hands slowly tracing down your shoulders and around your back before pressing you back to him.

He exhaled softly, staring into your eyes before hastily shrugging off his shirt. You climbed off of him and went for your pants, tugging them off before returning on Goro's lap.

"I would've bought you new pants," he said, groping your thighs with a few affectionate squeezed.

You shook your head, going for his belt. "You still haven't made up for the last pair."

Goro hummed, stretching to kiss at your neck then down your shoulder, leaving a sharp and chilling trail of his facial hair and wet lips.

You giggled at the feeling, biting your lip as his hands roamed in circles along your legs and hips. Your hands drifted under his belt, mapping his thick waist with your fingertips before shifting his pants down enough.

His cock bounded from its confines, sliding against your inside thigh almost begging to be let in. You groaned at its warmth, reminding you of the heat between your hips.

Your pussy clenched at the thought, earning attention from Goro's curious hands. His fingers slipped down the inside of your thigh, earning a heightened exhale from you.

You stared down at Goro with an intensity that was mirrored in his dark eyes. You collapsed against him, jerking your hips to tempt his cock to your entrance.

"Please fuck me," you whispered, meeting his lips in a peck.

Goro scoffed, pulling himself to sit upright. "Don't be so crass."

He crossed an arm over your waist, standing up and flipping you to the table. Your hands braced the dirty table, ignoring the sudden flash of headlights in the window.

Your mind short-circuited when Goro sank his cock into you. You reared up on your tiptoes, wanting to take more of him in as his hips came flush to your ass.

You turned your nails into the vinyl of the table, reaching a hand back to touch Goro's hip. He folded over you, his hands taking hold of your hips before pulling his full length out then sinking back in.

Your eyes crossed, releasing a high moan to the window glass. At that, Goro took a hand to cover your mouth, holding his index finger up to one of your nostrils as his thumb roughly caressed your cheek.

Your ankle lashed out, wanting to express how good he was making you feel, but he shifted his hand to press his middle finger between your lips.

"Bite," he ordered, pulling out again slowly before snapping in again.

Your toes curled, trying to hold yourself upright though you were already crumbling in his grasp. You did as you were told, clenching your teeth on his skin and minding your pressure.

Goro started at a fluid stride, pulling your hip further up and angling his cock to hit you deep. You curled up on the table, huffing against his index finger while you began to drool on his middle.

He lifted your knee to brace the table, allowing him to go further. You flattened to the table, turning selfish in the pleasure he was giving.

You tried to meet his thrusts, rolling your hips to collide with him but was forced to stop at his sturdy hold.

You cried out against his finger, your teeth gritting a bit tighter into his skin. Goro grunted softly behind you, hissing against the back of your ear.

Goro's hips stuttered, slowly losing his grip on restraint. His hand circled around your waist, finding your clit and folding two fingers against it.

Your body reacted with another coiling, clenching around Goro's length and causing you to unravel. His fingers flicked softly in a circle, the pressure steady yet tepid.

"Urck," you moaned against Goro's digit, trying to hold your breath even though you were near collapse.

Goro's lips peppered your shoulder, behind your neck and to the opposite side before lapping at your throat. His mouth latched to your skin, suckling tenderly until the combined actions caused you to break down..

"Oro," you groaned out, your body heating up under him while your nipples hardened against the cool vinyl.

You came in an instant, the remaining strength in your standing leg shaking. Goro moaned into your neck, finishing off the love bite with a soft smack.

He pulled his gnawed finger from your lips, turning you to his face. Goro's hand gripped at your chin, taking in your fluster before petting your lips with his thumb.

His hand on your clit started scrubbing, earning an involuntary convulse from your body. Your other hand reached to pull him away, but he chuckled darkly at your effort.

"Come again, V," he instructed with a lustful growl. "You feel so good. Come again."

You whined then, your body only gaining strength back and losing it again. "Goro, please."

Goro ignored your plea, taking your earlobe between his teeth and stuttering with his pace. "Please, come again."

You rested your cheek to the table, let Goro ravish your ear until your eyes rolled back. Suddenly, your body was once again on the precipice before you were suddenly over. Your leveraged foot ached and twitched against the dirty floor, your muscles seizing as your mouth fell open with a loud moan of Goro's name.

He smiled against your skin, slowing his pace and allowing your throbbing pussy to send him over. Goro buried his face in your shoulder, growling and groaning against your skin as he leisurely pumped his seed into you.

Goro slowly slid out of you, allowing your knee to drop from the table. The two of you held onto the table carefully, catching your breath before Takemura raised his head to look out of the window.

His eyes scanned the dark scene of the motel, the sliver of light from the streetlamp streaking over his face. You stared up at him, breathing deeply as his eyes dulled back from the lustful glow to hyperawareness.

Goro lowered himself back down to you, pecking at your prickling skin. "We can't stay like this."

You couldn't come up with any words, so you nodded.

Goro eased off of you, leaving you raw and exposed in his wake. He folded his cock to his thigh and waited for you to gain the strength to stand.

You slowly pulled yourself up, using your arms as leverage. You turned to look at Goro, who was now picking up your pants and folding them over his arm.

You wanted to pause the moment here, savor the intimacy that lingered between you two. It felt almost domestic, how he was picking up your clothes and resting them carefully away from the grimy mattress.

You wanted to suddenly disagree with him, tell him you could stay like you had for a few moments longer. You'd be running away from each other for a short time after this, until he deemed it as safe.

But him being here wasn't safe and he knew it. Yet he still did it.

"Let's go to the Aldecaldos," you suggested, turning against the table and leaning against it, feeling the logy trail of his cum down your inside thigh.

Goro stopped in pulling his pants on to narrow his eyes at you. "Val," he began and that alone shot through you hard enough to rid the thought from your head. "We'd be risking their safety."

You knew that, they were already on Arasaka's radar alone. The thought of Takemura leaving made your throat go dry. Where would he go but the direct opposite from you from now until who knows when?

He noted your worried brow and walked over to caress your cheek, his fingers curling down to your jaw before his thumb flushed to your earlobe.

"I have been selfish with you," Goro said, clearing his throat with a gulp. "I put you through this."

"Aww, the corpo-bot learned regret," Johnny glitched into existence on the edge of the dirty mattress. "Your dynamite pussy has warmed his heart."

Your undereye twitched at Johnny's words, tempting a tear. Goro shifted his thumb to ease the water away from your lashes. "It pains me to part from you, to suddenly be without you."

He leaned in and you shared a soft breath with him. "But I've risked you enough tonight. And we must truly part until further notice."

"This reminds me of a movie," Johnny lounged back on the mattress. "The samurai must part from his normie girl to return to war. Makes my balls ache."

You hid a roll of your eyes at Johnny, wishing he was as easy to disperse with the flick of a switch. Goro's lips ghosted before yours but pulled away at the last second.

His hand roamed up to your temple, then his eyes examined your face closely. "I need you to stay safe...I need you to come back to me, Valerie."

You gulped at the sound of your name on his lips. "Same for you."

Goro smiled dryly, affectionately pinching at your lips with his thumb and index knuckle before letting his hand fall. He pecked your cheek and you shut your eyes, holding back the mangling feeling inside you.

"Don't cry, V." Johnny interjected, shifting on the mattress. "We've got more shit on our plate than your little boyfriend's long goodbye."

You opened your eyes to see that Goro was gone, a wrenching action in itself. Your body lurched at the vacuum of the room, feeling your stomach twist up into your throat while you choked back hot tears.

"I'm not gonna cry," you tried to convince yourself, steeling your resolve with holding your breath. Your chest heaved indirectly, ready to let go the muddied feeling within you.

You pressed your hand to your mouth and folded over yourself, hiding a gagged cry in your palm.

[ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian]

Broken

Category: F/M | Rating: Explicit | Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077

Ship: Goro Takemura & female V

Angsty and steamy romance. With awesome art and my own virtual photography from the game (like the picture displayed above). Older (30+) V. Self-doubt and fear of giving into feelings that might lead to heartbreak. Rough shower sex. Inner dialogues with Johnny. Falling in love. Loving, fluffy, spiritual love-making. Morning-after breakfast and convo. Hopeful open ending supported by 2 following fics.

Broken by XindiChick on AO3 »

[veinereastath]

unromanceable Takemura still holds the title of Cyberpunk’s biggest crime

[phoebesshippingmanifest]

I have been hilariously inactive on here lately. Sorry about that. The sun went away and my joie de vivre and ability to focus on anything went with it.

I am currently just trying to get by, writing the most self-indulgent Takemura/V fanfic. That man should have been allowed to rock my wet tissue paper netrunner's world.

Yes, I am guilty of not pursuing any romance paths in Cyberpunk 2077 because I was pining for the unromanceable NPC! He's stalwart, loyal, funny, and he looks like Toshiro Mifune! No court in the world would convict me!