#single speed road bike

[willowfey]

.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.

Word Count: 4.7 k

Warnings:

“Get back ‘ere,” Lt. Simon Riley’s deep voice bellows angrily at the back of your quickly fleeing head as you storm clench fisted out of his private quarters before it disappears from his sight for a moment as you slam his door behind you so hard that it bounces off the frame and swings back open. He has no clue where you’re off to, but by the direction you’re headed, it looks like you’re going straight towards the parking lot. 

God dammit, this isn’t how this is supposed to go. He curses himself for the way his emotions get the best of him sometimes and especially right now.

A mess of heavy breaths and barred teeth, you try to ignore the boot steps barreling towards you from behind. Nothing and no one is going to stop you from getting out of here and away from him, so you keep your face down, eyes staring at the long shadow of your body splaying out in front of you as the sun slips down further to the horizon. When you do finally look up your car is close and getting closer; good. You need to get off this fucking base to calm down before you explode in rage and do something stupid…like put your fist through a wall.

Again the lieutenant calls out your name to your fading figure with no luck and watches as you reach your vehicle without even acknowledging him anymore. It’s no use, you’re gonna take off no matter what he does, so finally he gives up with a loudly growled “fuckin’ hell” in agitation just as you reach out for the handle, storming back into the room with another loud bang as the door shuts and stays closed this time. 

The noise makes the tension in your chest ease as you get in the driver’s seat and buckle up; at least he’s decided to actually leave you alone for now. Risking a quick glance back at the bare front of his closed door one more time you harshly turn the key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot, screeching wheels and a flurry of gravel the only sign of your exit. 

“God dammit,” you mutter to yourself under your breath, your knuckles gripping into the steering wheel until they are white as you make your way up to the security booth to get cleared to leave. “What the fuck was that? Christ, he was angry. Has he lost his goddamn mind? Why does he think I have to put up with his shit?”

The guards at the stand can see the fury in your eyes as you roll up to the gate and they are quick to guide you through, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever has got you in a mood. They share a look between them after you drive off as somehow it feels like they’ve dodged a bullet, but that relief is short lived as not even ten minutes later the next person to come up to their gate has the same sour expression, except this one is partially shielded inside a jet black motorcycle helmet and black balaclava. 

Those eyes though…if looks could kill, the guards know they would have already dropped dead.

“Lieutenant,” one of them nods briskly as the motorcycle comes to a stop and the visor on the helmet is aggressively opened to reveal its occupant, “y-your good to go.”

Simon flips the visor back down with a single flick from his hand and revs the engine on his bike to peel away from the booth like a rocket towards the setting sun, headed in the same direction you had just gone minutes before. Faster and faster he pushes the engine; thank fuck there’s only one way you can go and if he makes sure to speed, he’s confident that he’ll catch up to you quick enough.

And then what? Simon’s anger is still blinding and he hasn’t thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he can’t just leave it like this and until you listen, he isn’t going to give up.

Your eyes are locked on the road, but it feels like you’re driving more by instinct rather than by sight as the only thing you can see right now is red. Simon’s harsh accusations swirl about in your head on repeat; not a good soundtrack to quiet your anger. This is not how you thought this day was going to end.

He had caught you headed back to your barracks and asked to speak. If you knew it was going to be an ambush for him to unload on you about something that was none of his business, you would have done everything to get out of letting him lead you inside his room. He didn’t even give you the chance to get a word in, to defend yourself, just kept spewing his heated thoughts about what he believed you were doing until finally you were able to get out.

If only he knew the truth… whatever, it didn’t matter now. You wouldn’t be kept on a short leash by someone who didn’t care.

You aren’t sure how many miles you’ve gone before you notice a motorcycle driving right behind you. They seem to be glued onto your bumper, keeping pace with you as you switch lanes, and when you make a sudden right and another directly after, they are still behind you and now you’re sure; you know that bike and its rider. 

How the fuck did he get behind you so fast? 

Simon flashes his lights at you before throwing on his blinker to indicate that he wants you to pull over, but you aren’t on base and don’t feel like following his orders right now. Let him chase after you for a little while more, that’s what he deserves. Who knows, maybe he’ll realize that this is a fucking stupid idea and he should really head back. Wishful thinking; you know him too well to even pretend that he’ll give up when he has his mind set on something. 

A few more miles and again he hits his lights; he’s not going to stop following you until you give him what he wants. He knows he came at you too strong before, but he isn’t done with the conversation. He is compelled to put a stop to this before it gets any more out of hand, he has to. One more time, he flashes his lights.

“Really, Simon? I don’t want to fucking do this,” you curse him in a mumble with a scoff. Looking into your rearview mirror, you throw up your hands in defeat to silently indicate you’re ready to get this over with, wherever he decides to take this. It’s almost dark now anyway; you can get this done and then immediately head down to the bar to grab a much needed drink.

Up ahead is the abandoned parking lot of an old grocery store that looks like it has been closed for some time. Simon speeds up to get ahead of you to act as a guide and you throw your blinker on and turn in. He leads you towards the back of the store and away from the street and the traffic; more privacy for you to ‘talk’. 

Great, more yelling, you think as you put the car in park before coming to a full stop. You scramble out in a huff and slam the door shut so hard that the windows vibrate.

“What?” you say between gritted teeth, leaning up against your car as you wait for him to get off his bike; you’re gonna make him come to you. 

He removes his helmet, setting it carefully on the handlebars before stalking over to where you stand. “I said I wasn’t going to talk about this anymore,” you continue on in the same heated tone, “so why are you following me? What the fuck do you want now?”

“That’s really how you’re gonna talk ta me?” he questions, matching your energy. “I’m still your fuckin’ lieutenant.” 

“That’s how I talk to assholes so stick their fucking noses where they don’t belong and then get mad when they don’t like what they find,” you return, crossing your arms across your chest to hide how labored your breathing is from your anger. You don’t want him to know just how much he’s gotten under your skin, even though you know your face is probably giving it all away anyway. 

He told himself to stay calm, but there is no helping the emotional reaction he has that causes him to immediately match your energy and the fight picks right back up as if it never stopped. “Oh, is that right?” he growls. “I’m tha asshole? And what the fuck does that make ya, princess?”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” you press the matter. “I didn’t do anything; you’re the one that has the problem. I just don’t understand why you can’t let it go. Do you not have anything better to do than get in my personal life?” 

Simon licks his lips behind his mask to keep him from losing the shred of composure he has left. “Better watch it, luv.”

You’re done with him, his attitude, and this conversation. “I will say it again, so maybe you’ll finally get it through your thick skull. What I do in my free time is my business. You have no right to confront me about anything.”

“I think I do,” he returns.

“Why? Because we hooked up a couple of times? That doesn’t give you the right to act like we’re a couple,” you say heatedly. “We agreed that it was we needed at the time to let off some steam, that the couple times it happened meant nothing. Now you’re acting like a fucking child just because I enjoy having company?”

Your blood is boiling now because he’s doing all this without having the facts. This supposed company you are entertaining isn’t even real, it is all a rumor started by a rejected private with nothing better to do, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He doesn’t need to know because it shouldn’t matter; you’re not together, never were, and he has no right to any knowledge about what you do behind closed doors. 

This is the type of arrangement he wanted after all, no strings attached. His idea, not yours, so why the possessiveness all of a sudden? After all you had done to make sure your feelings on the matter never got out it only makes you more irate to feel like a caged animal; damned if you do, damned if you don’t. 

Because what you really want is standing right in front of you and you can’t have it.

“Ya couldn’t even tell me ya were screwin’ around?” he says, stepping up in intimidation. “Ya don’t think that makes it sound like ya knew it was a problem?”

His entitlement feels like an attack and you won’t stand for it. “You can’t keep me on a leash like this when you don’t even have a claim,” you bark, getting in his face. “You might be my lieutenant, but what I’m doing or not doing outside of military business isn’t for you to worry about. And once again, we aren’t together. Stop acting jealous.”

He stares you down, menacing glare locked to your eyes as his chest heaves up and down exasperatedly. “Neva said I was fuckin’ jealous,” he starts, but you promptly cut him off.

“Yeah, right,” the accusation spills out like acid, finger poking into the middle of his chest. “And the fact you can’t fucking drop it is because you’re concerned, right? Bullshit. But you know what? I don’t care. I promise you, this is the last we will ever speak about it. You hear me? Just leave me the fuck alone.”

You shove past Simon as he stands there silently fuming to walk off somewhere along the building, clearly hoping that he will turn back for the base. His heart is beating out of his chest as he stares daggers into the back of your head…because you actually guessed right. He is jealous and it is eating away at him. 

Blinded by his overwhelming emotions, he moves without thinking about the repercussions of his actions. Taking fast steps, he catches up to you as you walk along by the brick wall of the store and takes you by surprise. He reaches out with his large, strong hand and wraps tightly around the back of your neck to pull you backward to him, turn you around, and pin you against the brick by your throat.

Simon blocks your body with the bulk of his, trapping you so you can’t get away again. His grip is firm, but not painful and you look up into his masked face as if trying to read his eyes. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, the residual anger pumping through your veins so it’s still in your voice.

There is a pause, more silence, before he speaks. “Handlin’ something,” he says with a growl.

“You clearly can’t handle anything, Simon,” you comment with an agitated chuckle. 

“Shut it,” he demands in a harsh bark. “Ya think ya know every fuckin’ thing, don’t ya?” He shakes his head, jaw visibly clenching even behind the mask. “Ya can’t even see what’s right in front ‘a your face.”

Your brow furrows; what the hell is he talking about? His remark catches you off-guard and you stand silently in confusion as you contemplate what the hell he’s trying to say, but he’s gone completely silent, just breathing heavy breaths into your face. Enough, he needs to just spit out so this can end. 

“Since I’m so fucking stupid, why don’t you spell it out for me. Stop playing these fucking games with me, Simon.”

Fine, no more games. His skin tingles with the heat from the adrenaline flooding his limbs and all at once everything happens in a flash. Only inches remain between you and in that moment they suddenly feel as wide as the ocean; it makes him ache and the urge to close the distance overwhelms every sense. Reaching towards his face with his free hand his mask is wrenched above his lips before he pulls your head forward by your throat and leans in to catch your mouth with his. The kiss is so full of aggression that it knocks the air out of your lungs. 

There is nowhere for you to go, nothing you can do, but hold on as he takes what he wants from your mouth. He steals kiss after frantic kiss as if he has been starved for them, not evening pausing to give you a second to come up for breath.  

All that anger that had just been bubbling inside you is redirected and suddenly instead of wanting to push him away you want him as close as possible. Your fingers claw into his shoulders through his leather riding jacket as you try to pull him into you, but they are immediately ripped off as he grabs them and pins the wrists to the wall above your head. Between the breaks in your mouth’s connection, he gasps out the words he should have said back in his room. 

“Ya need ta understand. Can’t just have ya a few fuckin’ times and tha’s it. Can’t get enough a ya. Was a goddamn fool not ta speak up sooner. Want ya for myself an’ I don’t share what’s mine. An’ you’re mine, luv,” he gasps into your parted lips, giving your neck a squeeze for emphasis. “Ya hear that? Mine.”

He nips at your bottom lip, sharp teeth cutting into the plump flesh to make you moan at the delicious harshness. God, your desperate sounds are like a drug; he can’t get enough and the more needy you become, the better they get. Pulling back just as you try to go in for more, he stares into your eyes, his gaze darkening within the confines of his mask still clinging to the top half of his face. “Can’t ‘ave anyone else tryin’ to get at what’s mine. Any prick that tries ta take ya away from me, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘im.”

Admission finished Simon’s eyes flutter closed as he dives right back into your lips, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth, parting through your lips as he forces his way in until the muscle has filled you full. It plays against the roof of your mouth and over your tongue, tasting you, devouring all he can like a beast ravenous to take all that it can get. 

All that pent up desire being released onto you.

His bulky muscles against your chest crush your body into the wall and you can barely breathe, but you would gladly suffocate if it meant your curves could stay molded into each other like this for longer. Then you feel it, that bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, and the walls of your pussy involuntarily clench. Suddenly you need it inside you. 

As if he has read your mind, Simon wrenches himself from your lips. “Unless ya want me ta fuck ya on the side ‘a this buildin’, get to tha car,” he growls, his voice husky. “Now.”

It only takes  a few seconds before you’re both jostling into the back of your car and slamming the doors shut, Simon’s jacket discarded on the ground right outside the door. His massive size takes up most of the cramped interior of the vehicle, but still he manages to maneuver onto his knees over top of you as he lays your back down against the seat. With one hand he undoes your pants, clasp first and then zipper, and pulls them down just under the curve of your ass and forcefully rips them off your legs as he rips his shirt off over his head with the other. The mask is taken with it and all the clothes get tossed somewhere into the floor of the car as he hikes one of your legs up to rest on his broad shoulder.

“Need it,” he says, feverishly kissing down the length to your thigh. “Need ta be inside ya right this second.”

“Yes, Simon,” you whimper as he undoes his jeans and pulls out his cock. It bobs up and down with the beats of his heart and he moans at the sensitivity as he takes it into his hand.

“Ya said I didn’t ‘ave a claim, well I’m ‘ere to claim ya now. But I need ta say it, sweetheart,” he returns as his fingertips hook into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side before he angles himself against your pussy and starts slipping himself through your petals with agonizingly slow thrusts of his hips. “Say you’re mine.”

You swallow to coat the dryness in your throat. “I’m yours Simon,” you say, but the measured nature of his strokes don’t stop.

“Again.”

The tip of his cock prods against your clit and you whimper at how swollen it is and how much you need something to take the edge off. “I’m all yours Simon!” you whimper so pathetically as the throbbing intensifies the more he repeats the same. 

His hand digs harder into your hip as he leans in closer to your face. “I. Said. Again.” 

You close your eyes tight, clenching as you pant and gather the strength to reply with everything you have. “Simon, baby, please. I fucking need you so bad. I can’t fucking take it. I swear that I am only yours; there won’t ever be anyone else.”

The heat of his lips near yours makes you shiver. “Look who can’t handle things now,” he says with a smugness that makes goosebumps raise over your skin. “ Now, arch ya back a little more for me.” His command is direct and you follow without hesitation, presenting yourself to him like you are in heat, begging to be filled.  

“Fuck sweetheart, jus’ tha thought of ya with anyone else gets me so god damned riled up,” he says with a grunt as he positions himself at your entrance, your panties nearly ripping still laced in his fingers. “No one can ‘ave ya like this ‘cept me. Understand?”

You give him a vigorous nod, praying that soon the agony will end. “No one.” Your repeated words are a plea.

Simon’s heart races at how you say it. “You’re neva’ gonna stray, are ya?”

“No,” you whine.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” 

With that he shoves in just the tip through the threshold, instantly feeling the stretch of your core by the girth of it, groaning through a chuckle as you mewl taking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust and snaps his hips to thrust all the way down to the base of his shaft. The wind gets knocked out of you, but again he doesn’t pause and the axle of the car creaks as his desperate strokes overwhelm everything from you to the vehicle with the force.

“Ya think anyone else can make ya feel like this?” he asks through gritted teeth as he pounds into you hard and rough over and over again in rhythm. “Some manky bastard gonna make ya moan like this?”

There’s no way you can answer him with how full your mouth is with moans, how numb your mind is as everything in you focuses on the sensation of his thrusts reaching deeper and deeper inside. It only gets worse when he decides that one leg on his shoulder isn’t enough; it needs its twin on the opposite one. From here you swear you can feel him in your stomach with how deep he penetrates.

“Ya think he would even know what ya like? How to play with your clit, how to suck on your tits till you’re vibratin’ and your toes curl?”

How the fuck did he remember all that? You’ve only been together a few times and yet it’s obvious that he’s paid so much attention to detail that he’s memorized everything of those intimate details that make you a mess. As if right on cue his hand slips down between your bodies and parts through your petals to massage the nub at the top of your pussy.

“Ya think I wouldn’t care ta know what ya like?” he asks, the gravel in his voice delicious and yet menacing as you throw your head back and release a loud moan. “How else am I gonna make sure ya belong ta me? I need ta fuckin’ ruin this sweet little pussy so no one else can compare. I wanna be the only fuckin’ thing in that pretty head ‘a yours.”

As if you’d ever have the strength after this to even think of another man that isn’t him. The fictional man that got you into this predicament didn’t even exist and yet somehow you still feel guilty about him. There is only Simon, your Simon, that you can’t get enough of; no one else can ever come close. 

The lights in the parking lot kick on just as the last bit of daylight slips under the horizon and you can see now just how fogged up the windows are as Simon rips up your shirt and bra together, stuffing the clothing up around your neck and popping both breasts out of their cage before letting your legs slips from his shoulders to fall and wrap around his hips.

“Can’t forget about these beauties,” he growls before diving in face first and catching one with his mouth. 

Hot lips latch on as he braces a hand against the steam-covered window to hold himself steady so that he can continue to pump in and out of your tight hole and play with your clit as his tongue teases the nipple until it’s stiff and you can feel the pleasurable sensation down between your thighs. The moans filling the car come faster and faster as the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach grows. Simon doesn’t even come up for air, just switches sides to play with the other nipple until it too is hard; he wants a matching set before you come and he is gonna get what he wants. 

Your thighs squeeze down on his hips as that heat violently gathering in the pit of your stomach starts to come to a head and a devilish idea floods your thoughts. It won’t be long now and your orgasm will be coursing through you, but that’s not enough. If he wants to claim you, he is going to claim all of you…and fill you full. 

“Don’t pull out,” you stammer out and he falters in his thrusts. 

Simon quickly releases your breast from his mouth.“What did ya say?” 

You lock your ankles together tightly behind his back so he can’t escape. “Don’t you dare pull out,” you repeat and he nearly comes right then and there just from how the request makes his heartbeat pound. “God, I’m so close, baby. Please, I need you to come in me.”

Fuck, what a request. How the hell could he possibly refuse? He made a declaration after all and he intends to keep it; he is going to ruin you and he is more than willing to breed you to do it. His hands move to your hips and he buries his fingers in the muscles. 

“Then you’re gonna get what ya fuckin’ want, sweetheart,” he says as he strikes up into you with a newfound vigor that makes your body bounce. “You’re gonna take every last goddamn ounce.”

“Right there,” you moan, the pressure euphoric, “stay right there.”

He grunts. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel that fuckin’ clench.”

He struggles to repeat the same exact movements, his own release about to pop off at any second, but with a bit of effort his hard work pays off and that heat reaches its peak. The tension snaps harshly and tears through you until your body is jerking as you ride out wave after wave of ecstasy.

God, the way your walls are fluttering around him as you let go is heaven and he loses himself in the sensation. All that tight, wet, heat sends tingles through his cock and he can no longer remain sane. 

“My pretty girl…” he murmurs, his thrusts slowly getting more sloppy… “mine…” he repeats,  nearly there, preparing to make sure you take every ounce of his cum and coat your walls… “all fuckin’ mine.”

That’s it, he can’t take another thrust and with an open-mouthed moan he comes hard. Cum shoots up inside you as he milks himself with your body until he has nothing left to give and kneels there resting inside you. You watch the muscles along his abdomen contract and release as he slowly comes back down from that high. 

Such a masterpiece of flesh.

Minutes pass until he feels like he can pull out and he spends that time peppering your lips with tender kisses. Finally he carefully removes your legs from around him and sets them down on either side of his thighs, holding them open so that he can lean back and watch his cum and your slick dribble out of your cunt onto the cushion beneath you. What a beautiful mess he’s made; he can’t stop staring at it as if he’s in a trance. 

A visual sign that his claim is finally complete.

“Tha’s a sight that could do me in,” he breathes. “Ya did so good for me, sweetheart.”

He releases your panties so that they fall back into place and you can feel everything starting to gather in the crotch. You sit up and he pulls your face in for one last kiss; you’ve been here long enough that if you don’t get out of here soon it’s gonna draw unwanted attention. 

“Now get your ass back ta base and make it quick,” he says as he pulls slowly from your lips, “I want ya in my room, in tha shower; ya got exactly 20 minutes so ya best not stop. I’m not done with ya just yet.”

[saintobio]

⊹₊ ⋆🏍₊˚⊹ ON TRACK.

when being the WAG of a rookie MotoGP rider earns you the front-row seats to a thrilling race and... an unsightly amount of groupies.

▞▞ pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

▞▞ genre. fluff, established relationship, biker boy au, motogp rider au

▞▞ tags. biker!sukuna, motogp rider!sukuna, sukuna rides for ducati, WAG!reader, ooc, profanity, mentions of reckless driving, jealousy, insecurities, accidents, mentions of injuries, sukuna gets a little touchy in the end

▞▞ notes. 1.8k wc. do we miss biker!sukuna? i think we all miss biker!sukuna !! bahaha the influx of biker!sukuna fanarts made me write this. and also bcos i watched motogp clips on tiktok. rbs and comments highly appreciated! :D

Have you ever imagined Sukuna as a MotoGP rider? 

Well, his passion for bikes didn’t just stay confined to the open road. He knew he was destined for more than just the city’s freeways and the thrill of 1000cc machines. He was, as a matter of fact, made for the track. 

Yes, the scary, dangerous, exhilarating world of high-speed competition.

When he had first told you about competing in MotoGP, you were thrilled for him. Truly, because you knew that the series had been his lifelong dream. Before, he was just a little boy who collected bikes for toys, and now he had the chance to make his dream a reality. So, who were you to stand in the way of that?

In fact, you were incredibly supportive—always present at his races, always cheering for him from the stands. It didn’t matter if you’d lose your voice the next day. You had to be his biggest supporter. And today was just another one of those days where your duty as his #1 fan called for you to be there and root for him with all your heart. 

Today’s MotoGP race was in full swing, and your heart pounded in rhythm with the thundering bikes tearing down the track. They all passed by in a resounding zoom! where your eyes could barely keep up from their otherworldly speed. From your vantage point in the VIP section, you watched intently as the riders navigated the circuit, your eyes never straying far from one rider in particular—Sukuna, your longtime boyfriend, riding a Ducati Desmosedici GP24.

“I’m so nervous,” you murmured, hands clasped together as your eyes remained glued to your lover. 

Sukuna was a sight to behold on the track, and he always told you that his bike was an extension of himself as he maneuvered with precision and aggression. Honestly, it must be scary to be the one riding such powerful superbikes, especially when the roar of engines alone was a symphony of speed and power that sent chills down your spine. And while you were filled with anxiety watching your boyfriend on the circuit, the red and black Ducati eventually flashed past, neck and neck with the Aprilia rider, and the two bikes locked in a fierce battle for the lead. 

You could imagine the commentators keeping a close eye as they narrated the race on live television.

But you trusted in Sukuna’s talent. His ability to escape from cops with his old R6 back in his college days was proof enough of how ridiculous he could get with his speed. He didn’t get a single ticket because he managed to outrun them all. Though, of course, that wasn’t something you should be mentioning to anyone. He wasn’t actually proud of notoriety and history of reckless driving before, especially when he recalled having endangered your life once before while you rode with him as his backpack. 

And since Sukuna upgraded to being a professional rider now, you had your fair share of an upgrade, too. That manifested in the form of being part of the so-called WAGs—or wives and girlfriends of the racers. Life as a WAG wasn’t drastically different from your previous one, except now your boyfriend was a huge global sensation in the biker community, and you had become somewhat of a fashion icon yourself. That wasn’t even an exaggeration, because every time you were seen with him publicly, people would soon be talking about your off-duty looks and outfits all over social media. 

But going back to the main star of the show, your hands clenched around the railing, knuckles white, as the race progressed. It annoyed you that the Aprilia rider was pushing him to the edge but never quite managing to overtake. Tailing the two were the riders for Honda, Gresini, Pramac, and KTM among the few.

Cupping your hands around your mouth, you cheered for your boyfriend. “Go, baby! Let’s go!”

The giant screen above the track zoomed in on Sukuna, his Arai helmet fitting the aesthetics of his big, red bike. The effortless way he handled his bike sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd. There were lots of cheering, screaming, roaring, and… well, squealing. Your head naturally turned to the group of girls nearby who were the very cause of the high pitched noises, their squeals of delight making the other WAGs around you shake their heads in amusement.

“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” 

“Look at him! He’s perfect!” 

“Sukuna, marry me!” 

“I’ll give you my number later!” 

“God, I wanna hook up with him.” 

“Girl, me too!” 

“You think we should wait outside his hotel later?” 

“Count me in!” 

Groupies. You felt a surge of pride mixed with a twinge of jealousy as you watched their frenzied adoration for your boyfriend. Literally. Your fingers were itching to gouge their eyes out. You wondered if he had ever been tempted to cheat, that when you were busy with your own corporate life outside of being his girlfriend, he might have rewarded himself by sleeping with an influencer or two. Probably models, too. Those tall, gorgeous women who often get partnered with him on ads and photoshoots.  

But the thing was, you couldn’t blame them—yes, your boyfriend was undeniably handsome, and his chiseled features and intense gaze made him a magnet for attention. A true eye-candy if you may add. Not to mention, he had the most attractive tattoos you had seen in a man. Ever. 

But he was yours, and that knowledge filled you with a sense of triumph over the hundreds and thousands of girls that were fantasizing about him.

Then, in the middle of your trance, an accident struck.

It was a blur of red and black as Sukuna’s bike suddenly wobbled after the rear wheel slipped on a patch of oil left behind by another rider. You held your breath in, praying to every saint that he remained safe, as you watched him struggle to regain control while the bike fishtailed dangerously. 

“Oh, gosh. Oh, gosh.” Your brain rattled with anxiety as you gripped onto the railings. “Baby, no. No, be careful! You got this!” 

For a moment, it seemed he might manage to stay upright, but then the inevitable happened. Sukuna went down in a matter of seconds, and his bike skidded out from under him in a shower of sparks.

“Oh, shit!” 

A collective gasp rose from the crowd, and your heart was lurching in your chest as you saw how your lover hit the tarmac. The medics immediately rushed onto the track, while you were still awestricken as you stared at the screen displaying his fall. 

“Please be okay, baby! Please,” you muttered under your breath again and again. 

A fellow WAG eventually placed a hand on your shoulders, rubbing you comfortingly. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Their gears are made for this.”

She spoke like true champ, and you knew you could put some trust in her words since she was a seasoned WAG. She had probably seen worst accidents that her husband had gone through while on track.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself. What if Sukuna sustained really terrible injuries? What if he broke a bone or two? What if he experienced a concussion? And if he did, what if he’d no longer remember you when he wakes up? Oh, Jesus. Your overthinking was the true culprit here. Yet there was nothing you could really do but wait for good news and hope that nothing too serious happened. Seconds felt like hours, and you were almost about to faint until you saw Sukuna finally standing up between the medics that surrounded him, waving to signal that he was okay albeit limping a little.

“Thank fuck!” 

“See? I told you he’s fine.”

Relief flooded through you, but unfortunately, such joy ended up being short-lived. Sukuna had lost precious seconds in the fall, seconds that allowed the Aprilia to pull ahead. And by the time he got back on his bike and rejoined the race, the gap was already too wide. 

He crossed the finish line in fifth place, a position that felt like a heart-shattering defeat after having been so close to victory.

As soon as the race was over, you didn’t even think twice when you made your way down to the paddock, pushing through the crowd and the throng of zealous fans just to reach your boyfriend. Your heart was still racing, almost akin to the superbikes that were speeding on the track moments ago, as you desperately looked for the love of your life. Only when you rounded the corner did you finally see him, helmet off and leathers dusty from the fall, talking with his team.

“Lovey!” you called out, face full of worry.

Sukuna was quick to turn at the sound of your voice, his expression softening the very moment his eyes landed on you. With long strides, he removed hi’s gloves and closed the distance between you two, and before you knew it, you were wrapped in his arms, the scent of leather and motor oil enveloping you in a comforting hug.

“Are you okay?” you asked, pulling back just enough to search his face for any signs of injury. “I was losing my mind back there!” 

As if he didn’t just experience a dangerous fall, he had a mischievous smile displayed when he looked at you. “I’m fine, baby. Just a little bruised ego.”

“It’s not a joke,” you whined, arms crossed at his lack of seriousness to the matter. “I was so scared when I saw you go down."

Very sweetly, he cupped your face in his hands and nuzzled his nose against yours. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m still alive, right?”

That’s true, you thought. But also… “You came in fifth,” you said, letting out a quieted sigh. 

But the Ducati rider himself was merely chuckling. Not even an ounce of heartbreak was shown on bis face. “Fifth place isn’t the end of the world, babe. I can live with that.”

You shook your head, not understanding how he could be so calm. Really. “But you were so close. You could have won!” And you’d blame it on your hormones, but you remembered the group of girls who cheered him on and decided to bring it up. “By the way, you had all those girls ready to throw themselves at you earlier. One of them even suggested waiting outside your hotel to hook up with you.” 

“Really? Where are those baddies?” he joked, looking around and trying to spot the girls until you flicked his forehead. “Ow! I was just kidding, babe. You’re the only one riding this dick day and night.” 

“Not funny.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re jealous.” He started attacking your cheeks with squeezes. 

While you, you tried your best to swat his hand away. “I’m not. Stooop—! You’re so annoying!” 

“Okay, okay!” He let out a deep chuckle as he raised his hands in surrender. “Anyway, I don’t care about them. I’ve already won the most important race of all."

You blinked twice in the same second, not comprehending his words. “What do you mean?”

Sukuna’s eyes soon softened into a teasing gaze. “I have my beautiful girl in my arms right now. That’s the only victory that matters to me.”

As much as you tried to contain it, a smile eventually broke across your face. “You’re such a sap!”

“Only for you,” was his elfish response, pulling you closer. 

The celebrations continued around you as the media and the crowd swarmed into the paddock. Sukuna held your waist tightly the entire time, all while acknowledging the people that greeted him and asked him for signatures. While in his arms, you realized that he was right. Winning or losing on the track didn’t matter because he already had you—and that was his true and greatest victory.

As cringe-worthy as that may sound. 

“I do have a request, though.” Your boyfriend focused his attention back on you, giving your bum a playful squeeze in front of everyone before he moved his face closer to your ear. “Make me feel like a winner in bed tonight.”

[vanillabat99]

My neighbours have dirt bikes and it is awful. They will spend like hours just loudly revving up and down the road every single night once the weather starts warming up. They are so very annoying ._.

[dipnots]

Top 10 Best City Bikes for Urban Commuting and Leisure Riding

City biking is a great way to stay active, reduce pollution, and save money on transportation. With so many options available, it can be difficult to choose the best city bike for your needs. In this article, we will take a look at the top 10 best city bikes on the market today. 1- Trek Verve 3: This hybrid bike is perfect for city riding, with a lightweight aluminum frame and a comfortable…

[yoru-exe]

『 TOKYO REVENGERS | inui seishu ; matsuno chifuyu ; mitsuya takashi 』

the night is young & time stops when you're with your beloved, so hold them close. nights like this don't come often!

a/n: i miss writing for these silly boys!!

『 INUI SEISHU 』

your boyfriend, for as long as you've known him, is a man of action. he speaks few words, too few even when explanation is due. you understand that he does what he thinks is right, but sometimes you can't help but be left in a state of wonder.

right now, you're experiencing this very conflict as seishu wrapped his scarf around your neck, while his jacket hung loosely on your shoulders. him, on the other hand, was left with only a single layer of shirt. you admitted that your attire wasn't looking appropriate enough to protect you against the weather tonight, expecially for a ride, but surely his action went a little too far.

unfortunately for you, when asked, he simply answered, "you'll get cold", as if that explained everything.

"wouldn't you though?", your brows wrinkled with guilt and concern.

he tilted his head to a side, seemingly thinking, before he shrugged and kissed your forehead, then put your helmet on for you, "i'll be fine. let's go, we'll be late".

the engine of his bike roared to life as soon as he hopped on it. just like that, the topic was dropped. by now, you're used to this behaviour of his, but you always made sure to repay him in a way or another, one he can't refuse.

from your seat behind him, you wrapped your arms tightly around his middle, hoping that the warmth he passed to you flow through your embrace. around you, the street lights fade with the speed, the noise filled your ears. but as you leaned against his back, all that's filling your senses were seishu's lingering scent and the warmth blooming in your heart.

『 MATSUNO CHIFUYU 』

"race me to the top, if you want a kiss", you pointed to the steps leading to musashi shrine, letting go of his hand to get a head start. "hey, not fair!", you heard chifuyu behind you, but from the sound of it, you knew he's following.

as you raced each other, adrenaline filled your system and cold night wind chilled your flustered skin. you laughed in excitement when he cut pass you, "see you at the top, loser!".

challenged, you quickened your pace. unfortunately, you stumbled and fell on the steps, causing searing pain to shot up your body. sitting up, you found that you had sprained your ankle. it was nothing too serious but it'll definitely take ages before you can reach the shrine.

"hey, what's wrong?". you jumped a bit when you heard his voice behind you, cursing at the sight of your injury. "can you move?".

you guiltily shook your head. the race would have to wait for another time. he knelt close to you, motioning you to hope on his back, which you obeyed with a quiet apology.

but instead of going down the flight where you came from, chifuyu made his way up the stairs, halfway there from where you fell. "why-".

"we're gonna make it to the top. i want my kiss", then he turned to look at you with a cocky smirk, "i know you want it too". he started to pick up pace with you on his back held secured in place, "so hang on!".

that night, the stars witnessed chifuyu running with all his might to the top with his love to claim his kiss, just like in the shoujo manga he read.

『 MITSUYA TAKASHI 』

it's strange. everyone loves mitsuya for how reliable he is, almost like the big brother figure to them. he's strong, capable and kind. while you love those qualities of his, there's something else that pulls your heart string stronger than the rest.

he had invited you to grab dinner after making sure luna and mana had gone to bed for the night. a quick ride through familiar road and you found yourself sitted on a table in a convenient store with him enjoying his instant noodle.

there was nothing exactly remarkable that he did, he's just there, munching like a normal human being would while they eat. but there's something special about seeing his cheeks puffing with the food in his mouth. when he licked away the soup at the corner of his lips instead of wiping it away with paper towel, you just can't help but stared with heart eyes.

"you good?", he cocked his brow with a boyish smile on his face. you wanted to kiss him there and then, but it's probably not a good context to start being lovey dovey with him, so you settled for a bashful nod.

from across the table, he nodded in acknowledgement. reaching your hand with his free one, he tried to make a conversation but incidentally talked too fast and choked on his food. you handed him water as you giggled, and he followed after he calmed down.

"what would i do without you?", he smiled guiltily.

mitsuya takashi is ever the steadfast leader of toman's second division, the one people seek for comfort and assistance. but with you, he's just a boy who could lower his guard down and not worry about messing up. it's his trust he places in you to take care of him that makes you fall deeper for him everyday.

[jellyfishsthings]

✨️Biker boyfriend ✨️

Your boyfriend has a motorcycle. And come on there are so many perks at having a biker boyfriend.

Having his destroying your insides while wearing his helmet because uhhhh.

Seeing those leathers hug his muscled body 🥵🔥 being all attractive as his legs wrap around the motorcycle and speed off in huge roads.

His favourite position is undoubtedly you on top of him. How could he possibly not enjoy you bouncing on top of his cock, hair flailing about as your tits jiggled freely in front of his eyes. Letting you ride him as if he is your bike. Letting you take control for as much as you can handle, bouncing up and down, rolling your hips and grinding against him.

“That’s it darling, keep going.” you’d continue moving at a quicker pace upon hearing him speak, upon hearing his praise, not slowing down even when you felt your legs pain — head only throwing back in utter gratification as you felt your cunt grip onto his length.

He would only chuckle in reply, holding onto you tightly, before wrapping your hair around his hands and slamming himself up into you, as he sees you in your weakened state. You can not hold yourself up from all the pleasure, giving in, letting him take the reins. The unholy sounds of his balls hitting against your cunt mixed in with your breathy moans and his loud grunts bouncing of the walls and only intensifying the urge to cum faster. He would love watching your face when he hit that spot, your body coming to a halt as you shuddered, eyes rolling back and fingers digging into his pecs. You would fall on top of him, letting your weight rest on his body not sparing a single thought about the mess between your legs.

Or think about all the little daytrips he will take you. Forests and beaches all of them then being plagued in your mind by very good sex and multiple orgasms. Maybe even on his bike trying to balance the both of you as wrecks your whole being.

[writerslittlelibrary]

The coolest mom

masterlist

summary: you and your mom had always been able to bond over your shared love for motorbikes

pairing: Natasha x daughter reader

warnings: none 

genre: fluff

words: 1020

a/n: This was inspired by a request I got and I just found it adorable! I’ve always went on rides with my dad on his motorbike and it is my favourite thing ever. last year we went on a road trip to Sweden and it was so much fun!

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Your mom had always been a big lover of her bike. She had always preferred riding her bike over taking her car. When you came into her life that didn’t change, and it didn’t take long before her obsession with motorbikes rubbed off on you. 

You loved going on rides with your mom and you couldn’t wait until you could ride yourself. 

When you were younger you used to be scared when Natasha went faster. You always felt like you would fly off, and that thought scared you. 

However, Natasha was always there to reassure you. When you would wrap your arms around her waist a little tighter, she’d lay her hand on yours to let you know she knew how you felt. Sometimes she’d slow down a bit if that’s what you wanted.

However, now you were older, and going fast was your favourite thing. Riding at high speeds simply made you feel free, and there was no better feeling. 

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

“Hey mom, we have to go! I’ll miss class!” you yelled through the house as you stuffed your lunch into your schoolbag. 

“One second!” you heard a voice yell back. 

You sighed as you rushed to put your shoes on, knowing it would definitely take longer than a second. You liked being on time. There wasn’t a single occasion where you were not on time. However, Natasha felt a little different about that. 

She wasn’t a late person in the slightest. She was more of a, perfectly on time person. Something that bothered you beyond beliefs. 

“Mom!” you yelled once more as you went to pull your jacket on. 

Natasha walked into the room, putting her jacket over a chair as she reached for her shoes. “Calm down, sweetheart. We won’t be late, I promise,” Natasha smiled gently as she tied her laces.

“You don’t know that, mom. Traffic is terrible at these times,” you explained as you crossed your arms, waiting for your mom to finish. 

“Traffic won’t be a problem,” Natasha simply stated as she reached for her motorbike jacket. 

“Put on your jacket and change your shoes,” Natasha stated as she walked towards the garage, taking your backpack and grabbing her keys on her way. 

You smiled excitedly as you quickly changed your shoes, grabbing your jacket and rushing after Natasha. It wasn’t often that she took you to school on the motorbike, so when she did you were more than happy. 

When you walked into the garage you saw that Natasha had already put on one case on the back of the motorbike. She put your bag into it before she opened the garage, rolling the motorbike outside while waiting for you to grab your helmet and your gloves. 

Once you were all dressed up in your protective gear (because no matter how experienced Natasha was with driving, she would never ever drive herself, or let you drive, without protective gear on) Natasha helped you on the motorbike, starting it and driving it to school.

Everyone at school knew who your mom was. I mean, obviously they did. Their class mate had the actual Black Widow as a mom. 

Of course, Black Widow or not, Natasha was still the coolest mom at the whole school. Nothing beats that feeling of everyone staring while you have the coolest entrance to your school day. 

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

School itself was boring, to say the least. 

Luckily, when it was finally over Natasha had driven back to school to pick you up, and instead of driving home, she drove the bike to the beach. 

Once she parked it she helped you off, locking the case at the back of the bike to keep your bag safe. 

You took her hand as you walked onto the beach, heading for the beach cafe to grab some hot chocolate. 

“How was school?” Natasha asked as you were walking over the sand, the beach cafe already in sight. You simply shrugged in response. 

“School was school. Some assignments here, some homework there, you know, the basics,” you told Natasha as you kicked some of the sand. She simply hummed in response.

“So what do you wanna eat? We can do dinner at home, or we can grab some fries here?” Natasha asked.

“Can we eat fries and watch the sunset?!” you questioned excitedly, hugging Natasha’s arms and looking up at her with big eyes. Natasha let out a laugh. 

“Of course we can my love,” Natasha stated as she gave you a kiss on your forehead. 

“Go pick out a spot. I’ll order us some hot chocolate,” Natasha said when you arrived at the beach cafe, motioning her head to the soft couch like structures outside. 

You nodded as went to pick the best spot, giving you the perfect view over the ocean, and hopefully, the sunset. 

Once Natasha came back with two hot chocolates she settled into the seat beside you, enjoying the little warmth that the sun still radiated even at this time of day. She sighed contently as you cuddles up into her side, laying your head on her shoulder and crawling as close as you could to her.

“Hey,” Natasha started, nudging you slightly. “You know I love you more than anything in this world?” 

You giggled and blushed slightly, lifting your head to give Natasha a kiss on her cheek. “I love you too,” you told her, laying your head back down and snuggling into her side again. 

After eating your dinner and watching the sunset, you drove home in the nice cool air of the spring evening, enjoying the slight afterglow the sky held as the sun fully disappeared out of sight. 

You wrapped your arms around your mother’s waist just a little tighter, laying your head on her shoulder as she drove through the small roads that led from the beach to the big roads. You knew that you would never feel as content as you did right now. 

(I’m so sorry I feel like this is trash. It’s messy because I didn’t really have a storyline. I promise I’ll have something better for my next fic)

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @simp-erformarvelwomen @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @mxximoffswifey @lorsstar1st

[ranticore]

inspired by a post by @/serpentface of a concept that captivated me, i'm going to present the much anticipated, much requested, "what cars my characters would drive, bearing in mind their economic status and assuming the year is 2024" post

we can start reallyyyy easy because for Bowman there's no other option:

An ep3 Honda Civic. Is it a type-R? nope but it's got vtec bro!!!! it's surprisingly practical and the wheels are kerbed to shit. there's fluffy dice. there's an aftermarket spoiler on the back and a halfords special front splitter. He's of the opinion that girls don't know the difference between a hot hatch and a grandma's car so this works as well as the expensive one. i think his driving style is best described as 'life changing'. for better or worse.

Senca:

unflinchingly practical. the car that can do it all. a 2010 1.6 TDI Skoda Octavia with roof rails. it's not about speed or looks and it's not even about transport, really, it's about looking superior because nobody else's car can fit the contents of an entire house inside. and then looking less smug when someone pulls up in a Volvo V50. the type of driver who can't fucking stand it when other people break the rules of the road but when she does it, it's fine. because she's a "good" driver.

Léa:

2004 Hyundai Coupe 2L. Yes bitch it looks fast!!!! IS it fast? No, but the better coupes from the same era did not depreciate so much in value and aren't affordable. in Léa's hands it's like a rocket ship. The indicators must be broken though because nobody has ever seen them in use. She spray-painted the wheels herself.

Islin:

a step-through road bike WITH panniers. cars damage the environment and the thought of contributing to that is unconscionable. doesn't wear a helmet anyway. dichotomy of ocd

Helena:

Porche Cayenne. Mostly someone else would drive her around but every so often she wants to get behind the wheel and start tailgating aggressively, just for the thrill of it. She replaced the stock lights with retina blaster 9000s and is always about 1 inch behind your back bumper, full beam on. Red lights are for other people. She ran over a child once because she wasn't looking and blamed the parents.

Jean-Baptiste:

Caterham 7. The one made up to look much older than it is, and he ordered it in kit car form and built it in his garage. I've always insisted that Jean would be massively into motor sport if he happened to have been born when that was a thing. He didn't follow the manufacturer's instructions because he felt that he knew best so his car is very unsafe but makes far more power than stock. It's not road legal but you will find it on the road nonetheless.

Erica:

Oh? You've never heard of it? You've never seen a man look so smug in your life. He shuts the silent-close door and explains that he traded in his Tesla model 3 for a BYD Seal because Tesla was becoming "too mainstream" and there were too many of them on the road.

Félix:

1998 Mercedes Benz E Class. Yeah it cost him £700 on Autotrader, but what's important is that it cost £60,000 when new. This is a good car. This is a luxurious car. It has heated seats - they don't work, but if he wanted to fix them he could. It has an overflowing ashtray from the previous owner and there's not a single thing that goes right on it but it makes him look adjacently wealthy, and isn't that the point? The poppy helps him look more sympathetic to elderly people (scam victims). Number One Most Likely To Attempt Murder-Suicide By Automobile. You've never seen a man look so divorced.

Carmen:

For her i just sorted price low -> high and picked the cheapest running car. And it's a Fiat Bravo! Notorious for earning a zero star euro ncap safety score and exploding into scrap if it hits a kerb. Carmen can't rely on her parents buying her a first car or paying insurance so she has no choice but to scrape the bottom of the barrel. She thinks it looks nice though.

Pascal:

was there any doubt.

Nico:

Beat up 1999 Discovery permanently attached to a horsebox. It is always filthy and somehow filled with straw and dog hair even though he doesn't own a dog, that's just what seems to happen to these cars. The heating doesn't work anymore but other than that it's fine, does the job. Drives with what can only be described as malicious compliance to all rules of the road.

Cain:

a Lada Niva. Why the hell would you ever need more than this. Electronics? No thanks. You're lucky it has gears. Cars peaked in the 1970s and anything built after that is just a piece of ridiculous frivolity, a toy for children. Here is a real workhorse. It costs 20 grand. Probably the only truly good driver here.

---

Sir Heaven:

Please for the love of god stop making him drive the Revuelto he doesn't want to do it anymore it's too scary

Sir Victory:

2003 Seat Leon Cupra R, with decals that make it seem very impressive and like it might actually be a racecar, but it isn't. It's made of rust and the engine sounds sick. It's battered and broken and the subframe is bent from a side-on collision. One day it might crumble away entirely but until then Sir Victory will drive it like he's at Goodwood. A very aggressive driver, mostly due to impatience, and he always wins the red light drag race.

Mercury:

It's a normal Ford Crown Victoria with a tank engine strapped to it. What? His holy calling is building and designing engines, of course this is safe and sane. Kind of a lackadaisical driver, obeys the rules when the mood strikes.

---

And just for fun, random other characters:

Qedivar:

1999 Audi A4. I just tried to imagine the most boring history professor tier car I could think of. It's in good condition for its age but it's never brought anyone a single scrap of joy in its entire life. Nobody smiles seeing this car and to this day Qedivar often fails to pick it out in a car park.

Huarvaa:

The legendary Renault Scenic RX4. It's big, it's 4-wheel drive, and it's a practical MPV. and it looks like it's constantly dipped in some kind of algae or perhaps sludge. Modified with a snorkel so it can drive through deep water. Still really rusty despite the plastic cladding.

Holly:

Rover Metro. It's incredibly spacious!!! Wow! He can't see over the wheel.

Finbarr Ó Casaide:

A Lupo. Literally the perfect car for his needs and he knows he must be conservative in how he goes about things. Yellow colour for the Ó Casaide clan, to show that he really does belong there, promise. A devastatingly precise driver; guns for the tiniest gaps and somehow makes it every single time, without putting others at risk or being particularly reckless. He will get you to your destination 20% faster than anyone else.

Olivier Tanet:

Ford F150, specifically an imported one from the US, specifically driven in a normal-sized place that is not built for stupid american cars (as in the photo). It is gigantic and it's in your rear view mirror 24/7. Helena might be a maliciously careless driver, but Olivier is just malicious. He wants you dead. His truck is part of an elaborate dick measuring contest that he intends to win. Plus side is that it's not a pavement princess, it goes offroad (it does doughnuts in your front garden)

[seat-safety-switch]

So-called motorcylists love to shove their beloved bikes away whenever there's a little bit of snow on the road. That's because motorcyclists are famously concerned with their public perception. They don't want to drive around town with wood screws run through their tires, shrieking profanities at stopped traffic before ripping a perfect 12 'o' clocker and driving across the iced-over multi-use-pathway, comfortable in their knowledge that the police will not and can not follow. Or it's because they don't have heated grips, and their handsies get cold.

Heated steering wheels are the single greatest innovation in cars in the last two hundred years. Unfortunately for me, they hadn't been installed into cars of the age I own. In the late 1970s, the newest innovation in steering wheel comfort was "maybe make them a little smaller, for the ladies." Seems like I was cursed to a lifetime of wondering if my thermostat was seized, freezing to death even through many layers of mittens and work gloves while waiting for the tow truck to arrive and clean up the commuters in front of me.

Of course, Plymouth also didn't equip this car with a lot of other modern features. For instance, liquid-cooled active speed laser and radar jamming was not available. Active pursuit drones pre-programmed with a seek-and-destroy order for all speed cameras were not yet on the market, unless you worked for the CIA. And also the good people of China had not figured out how to make $35 45-millimetre ball-bearing turbochargers capable of adding nearly four hundred horsepower to any engine strong enough to keep its guts on the inside when presented with one medium-sized jet engine's worth of boost. I had to add all those things myself.

Easy, right? Run some wires to a heating element on the steering wheel. There's just one complication: steering wheels turn. If I keep spinning the car left and right, eventually the wire will get tangled up and rip itself out, causing an electrical fire. Admittedly, that will also keep my hands warm, but the walk home after is inconvenient.

The original "engineers" who took a whisky-soaked gander at this car before slapping their secretaries on the ass had a solution, though. In every steering wheel, the horn button has the same problem. Unfortunately for me, the horn hasn't worked in this car since 1983, which complicated my attempts to reuse the wiring.

Ultimately, I came up with what a rocket scientist would call "a compromise." A pair of bolt cutters and a map to the local truck-supply warehouse's storage yard soon provided me with a nifty diesel-fired interior heater, a roaring flame that consumes all and produces enough heat to make toast from three feet away. Ratchet-strapped to the place where the passenger seat used to be, it will keep my fingers warm, as well as my feet and every other part of my body. Sure, it's inconvenient having to continually refill it with stolen farm diesel, and I could have run the exhaust pipe out of the cabin a better way than through the rust hole in the floor. Once you get that heated seat feeling, though, you simply can't go back. If you'll excuse me, I need to get going: if I don't get to work in the next five minutes, my boots will melt again.

[reasonsforhope]

"A Ghanaian-English entrepreneur has designed an electric bike from the ground up that’s transforming short-range transportation in her home country, proving that problem-solving in Africa can be done in Africa, by Africans.

[Valerie Labi's] company, Wahu!, assembles each bike by hand, and they can travel up to 80 miles [128 kilometers] on a single charge. This means that a delivery rider for Glovo or Bolt can comfortably cover a whole day’s work without refueling.

Anyone who’s visited Accra, Ghana, in the dry season will remember the incredibly poor air quality. Poor roads mean that cars are stuck in second and third gears, and old cars traveling in second and third gears mean plenty of extra car exhaust.

Poor roads also mean exposed dirt, and exposed dirt means fine-grained dust. Combined with a lack of rain, the smog, dust, and car exhaust make the air in parts of the capital unfit for human health.

Wahu! bikes help alleviate all three of these problems, and despite her English nativity [Note: Super weird and unclear way to phrase it?] and education, the bikes were designed and manufactured in Spintex, Accra.

“By introducing electric bikes into Ghana’s transportation ecosystem, we’re not only providing a greener alternative but also offering speed and convenience,” Labi told The Mirror. “Our bikes are a testament to how service delivery can be seamlessly merged with environmental conservation.”

Valerie Labi is a true inspiration, and besides her transportation company, she got her start in the Ghanaian economy in sanitation. She holds a chieftaincy title as Gundugu Sabtanaa, given to her by the previous Chief of the Dagbon traditional area in the Northern Region of Ghana. She has three children, holds a double major in Economics and Sustainability from two separate universities, and has visited 59 countries.

Getting her start in Northern Ghana, she founded the social enterprise Sama Sama, a mobile toilet and sanitation company that now boasts 300,000 clients.

During her travels around the small, densely populated country, she also recognized that transportation was not only a problem, but offered real potential for eco-friendly solutions.

“It took us two years to effectively design a bike that we thought was fit for the African road, then we connected with Jumia and other delivery companies to get started,” she told The Mirror. “Currently, I have over 100 bikes in circulation and we give the bikes on a ‘work and pay’ basis directly to delivery riders.”

According to Labi, each driver pays about 300 Ghana cedis, or about $24.00, per week to use the bike, which can travel 24 miles per hour, and hold over 300 pounds of weight. The fat tires are supported by double-crown front/double-spring rear suspension.

The bikes are also guaranteed by the company’s proprietary anti-theft system of trackers. Only a single bike has been stolen, and it was quickly located and returned to the owner."

-via Good News Network, January 24, 2024

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐢𝐭 [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail Pairings: yan!Blade x Fem!reader Warnings: NSFW, modern AU, biker!Blade, yandere, dub-con, loss of virginity, oral sex, rough sex, light suffocation.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq 

I think this image is perfect for Blade. He's perfect as a yandere and the bike makes him even hotter, don't u think so? (≧◡≦) ♡

Every evening, as you trudged wearily from your office to your house, you were accompanied by the loud rumble of a motorcycle, dispelling the silence of deserted streets. You didn't know the man who always seems to be intentionally nearby when you're lazily walking along the sadly familiar alleys, but you saw him a couple of times, admiring his bike when he stopped near your office building during your lunch break.

A tall, perfectly built, gloomy-looking man leaned impressively against the seat of a motorcycle, clutching a smoking cigarette between his long index and middle fingers, framed by the soft leather of a black glove. His long blue-black curls with burgundy tips couldn't help but delight you no less than his fiery eyes fixed on the phone in his other hand. He looks so relaxed and indifferent, as if immersed in his own world and not noticing anything that is happening around him.

You are so mesmerized by how his muscular chest slowly rises in time with his measured breathing, how his long bangs flutter in the wind, how his long eyelashes lightly touch his cheeks when he blinks, and how the scarlet earring makes a vaguely quiet tinkling sound, swaying from the air… And, damn, how is it not hot for him to stand in the sun when, no matter how hard you try, your gaze stubbornly could not find a single bare part of his body? A black leather jacket suits this man so well, emphasizing the slight curve of his waist and broad shoulders, and black jeans hug the seductive muscles of his calves and muscular thighs.

— Wanna go for a ride?

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a velvety low voice, just to match the appearance of this man. Just as sexy and alluring, but dangerous and dark, as well as the aura emanating from him.

— No, no, not at all!.. Mmm, I'm looking, but I'm not touching.

— Hm. It's not the first time I've caught you looking at my bike. You have nothing to worry about, I'm a good driver, — the man throws a cigarette on the asphalt and quickly crushes it with his foot, not taking his eyes off you.

What surprised you was the way he addressed you so familiar, even though you don't even know each other… But maybe that was the impetus for you to desire this man and want to know more about him.

You are always so careful, even a little cowardly, but then why are you now pressing your chest against someone else's back, your arms are wrapped around his waist, and you shamelessly inhale the fragrance coming from a stranger? He smells of tobacco and expensive cologne, so alluring that you can't help but keep your nose buried in his hair longer in the hope that he won't notice.

You hear the roar of the engine, feel the muscles of his back tense up when he lifts his leg off the ground and the motorcycle starts to go. Slowly at first, while he carefully drives around cars standing in traffic. But then it picks up incredible speed when you go out on a deserted straight. You tremble, clinging to the man's body like a lifeline, and close your eyes, frightened by how the bushes and signs on both sides of the road blur before your eyes. A strong wind meets the bare skin of your arms and legs. It wasn't the best idea to agree to this adventure when you were wearing your work blouse and skirt, but the offer was too tempting to refuse. No matter how much fear tormented you, adrenaline was raging in your blood. You have given up any dangers, any adventures for so long, preferring a measured quiet life to the extreme, that this trip has become for you like a breath of fresh air, the need for which you did not even know.

The next time you were already less afraid, willingly jumping on his bike the next day, and the next after that, and throughout the week. Trips with him have become long-awaited for you after hard working days, and on weekends, for the first time in your life, you couldn't wait for Monday to meet this man again. You didn't know how he ended up near your office, what he was doing there, whether he worked with you in the same company and what the hell his name was. But it wasn't so important to you, because he just made you a little happier.

On your first day off, you looked disappointed in the refrigerator, catching yourself thinking that it looks like you should still go out to the store. The last meal was over at lunch, but you feel your stomach cramping with hunger, realizing that it does not tolerate until tomorrow. You lazily grab your bag, jump into your sneakers and look sadly at the darkness outside the window. You don't like going out in the evenings, and you've almost come to an agreement with yourself that you should just order food for dinner, but this would only postpone the solution to the problem for tomorrow.

Your legs barely carry you to the nearest grocery store, and you freeze when the familiar sound of a humming motor cuts into your ears. Stunned eyes meet with fiery irises glowing in the dark, a man leaning against his bike near the entrance to the store, still smoking a cigarette in his hand. You blink a few times, not believing your eyes. Did you fall asleep on your couch and it's all just a dream? Otherwise, how else to explain the fact that the same man somehow inexplicably ended up here, now, just when you decided to finally get out of your hole? You make forays anywhere other than work so rarely, usually going to the store on the way back from the office, but then why did all the stars come together right now, and you met someone you didn't even suspect that you would be so glad to see?

You pull yourself together, worried that your stunned frozen figure will only scare off an already strange man. Have you ever worried about what he thinks of you at all? Such a frivolous, without a second thought, who agreed to go somewhere with an unknown man at the very moment when you just started talking for the first time. He must think you're a desperate single woman, but what's wrong with him?

✧ ✧ ✧ You walk unsteadily towards him, meekly waving your palm. As always, a stranger puts out a cigarette, turning all his attention to you.

— Are you stalking me? — you giggle nervously, immediately realizing how bad your joke was, but at the same time fearing that he will answer in the affirmative.

— Maybe, — his voice sounds, as always, cold and dispassionate, making you doubt whether he answered with a joke for a joke or whether you should start to be afraid of him.

Seeing your confusion, the man barely grins before placing his elbow on the seat of the motorcycle.

— Aren't you going in?

You shudder, thinking about his question for a second.

— Oh, you mean the store! Hehe, right, yeah… I'm going to, — you awkwardly press your palm to your neck, dulling your gaze. — Then I think I'll should go.

The man just mumbles softly, following you with his eyes as you walk away behind the doors of a small grocery store. While you're walking around between the counters, you can't put your thoughts together, you can't even concentrate on what you came here for. Will he still be outside when you come out? No, it's silly to hope for that. You don't think he's really here because of you. It's all just innocent jokes, and he has no reason to pursue a boring person like you. What can you really give this man, besides your dull presence? What could he have clung to to show interest in you? Although, if you think about it, for some reason he always seems to be waiting for you in the office parking lot. Maybe he's a maniac and tried to find out where you live in this way? If so, it's good that you always asked him to drop you off on neutral territory and waited for the moment when he left to walk to his house. But what if he really likes you? From these thoughts, your cheeks are covered with pink powder of embarrassment, forcing people passing by to look back puzzled at the smiling woman at the counter with pads, embarrassingly covering her face with her palms.

It took about twenty minutes while you gathered your thoughts and threw everything you needed into the basket to survive this weekend. At the checkout, you were met by a bored and tired look of a woman over forty, who casually dumped your groceries into a bag before you hurriedly followed to the exit. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest when you cautiously looked into the place where the stranger's bike used to stand in the hope of seeing him there again. How stupid of you to hope for such things. You haven't even been a student for a long time to tremble from just reproducing his image in your fantasies. This man really awakened some inexplicable interest in you, which was fueled by nothing but short conversations and silent trips. You wanted so much to know something about him, but you never had the courage to ask him at least one personal question.

You almost jump for joy, but you stifle the glee that tears your chest when you see that he is still here. Maybe he was really waiting for you? You don't see any other reason why a man can stand outside a grocery store for about half an hour at such a late hour.

— You're still here! Have you been waiting for me? — you're letting out a nervous laugh again. It's a pity, you should definitely work on your self-control.

— I thought you could use some help, — the man looked down at the grocery bag in your hand. Ah, well, what a gentleman he is.

— Oh, I won't refuse!

The stranger straightened up and walked towards you, taking the package from your hand. For a second, you could feel the touch of his leather glove on your palm. I wonder how the touch of his bare hand would feel?

— So you live nearby, I suppose?

— Mm… yeah, it will only take ten minutes from here.

— Do you want to go for a ride or…? — I don't rlly think the eggs in the bag will survive this trip, — you chuckle softly, rubbing your neck with your palm again. Of course you're nervous. You don't even know his name, and he'll already know where you live. Exactly…

✧ ✧ ✧

You walked slowly along the sidewalks at night in complete silence while you tried to summon all the courage you had in you to ask a question that you had long wanted to hear the answer to.

— L-listen… — you hesitate, fiddling with the store receipt in your hands. — I've been wanting to know your name for a long time...

Did you finally dare to ask? Although, this is quite a reasonable question considering that it's not the first time you've met and it would be strange if you still didn't know his name. Even at the moment, it's strange, and you don't see any good reasons for him to hide this information from you. At least you calm yourself with these thoughts.

— I'm surprised you decided to ask about it just now.

You stop, eyes wide in surprise. After a couple of steps forward, the man notices that you are not there and turns around at your frozen figure.

— What is it?

— What does that mean? You could have introduced yourself if it wasn't a problem! — you cross your arms over your chest in displeasure.

— Mm… yeah, you're right, — for a second the man thoughtfully tilts his head sideways, looking at your irritated face, before coming closer. His tall figure casts a shadow on you from the night lamp standing on the left side of the sidewalk. — I'm Blade.

— Pff! You see, it wasn't difficult at all, — you try to hide the blush on your cheeks, turning away in mock irritation, but then you raise your head again, meeting his fiery eyes. — Y/N… You didn't ask for my name either.

— I suppose you no longer have any reason to fear that I'll find out where you live?

You shudder when you hear him literally voicing the thoughts that were floating in your head just a few minutes ago.

— Why are you…! Oh, okay. Just let's go already.

You walk around the standing figure of a man you now seem to know, in order to continue walking slowly towards your house.

Blade, then?..

✧ ✧ ✧

It seemed that the silence accompanying you in the last minutes of the journey to the door of your house weighed on you even more than before. You were so eager to learn something about Blade that when you were finally given a piece of information, you simply didn't know what to do with it. Does that mean you can ask anything else? Or maybe you should invite him to come over and have dinner together in gratitude for his help? Oh, you're not sure that your house is in the best condition for receiving guests right now… But when else will you have such an opportunity to be alone with him for a longer time and in an environment in which the roar of his motorcycle engine will not interfere with your conversation?

You turn around on small heels when you approach your door. Blade stands behind you and silently holds out the package. You shift from one foot to the other, not daring to take it out of the man's hand, it seems that you are going to say something, but you clearly have problems with it again.

— What's wrong now? Or did you just want to take a walk, and I can keep this as payment?

You snort, changing your mood again, like a switch.

— Very funny!! I just… I was wondering, what are you going to do after I leave? If you're free, then maybe you won't mind… No, I'm not insisting, but…

— Are you inviting me in?

— Yes, I just… What?! — you're starting to look like a scared kitten again, looking up at Blade in surprise. — God, it's starting to scare me how you literally read my mind.

— It wasn't hard to guess, — Blade shrugs.

— Hmm, well, then, I take it you don't mind?

— I think there is a window in my schedule at twelve o'clock at night. You roll your eyes, but then you laugh, turning away from Blade to open the door.

✧ ✧ ✧

Awkward.

This is the only word that was spinning on your tongue when you were standing in the kitchen and hurriedly trying to cook dinner for a man who was relaxing on your sofa in the living room. You gave him brief glances that you hope he didn't notice. Although, given the fact that he already seems to be reading you like an unfolded book, he may guess that you are spying on him like a schoolgirl in love.

After an hour of your anxious attempts not to burn the food, you finally finish and solemnly bring two plates of food into the living room. You've never been able to boast of any special skills in cooking, so you decided not to take any chances and cook what you do best. You would like to impress him, and although this is impossible, you should at least do the minimum and not embarrass yourself in front of this man.

— Ta-dam! I don't pretend to be a chef, but it should be edible and cover my debt to you for your help, — you put a plate in front of Blade with an improvised omelet decorated with neat slices of tomatoes and a couple of basil leaves for aesthetics.

— Omelet? Is it morning now?

— Hey, I'm making a really delicious omelet! It doesn't matter what time it is, delicious food is delicious food, so eat and don't be picky.

You put your fists on your sides and watch carefully as Blade incredulously picks up a fork and breaks off a piece of an air omelet. Only after the piece has sunk into his mouth and Blade's face has relaxed, seeming to realize that his stomach is not in danger, you sit down next to him, starting to eat your portion.

— Is it delicious.

— Hm. It's edible.

— God, you could have chosen a nicer word, — you sigh, stabbing another piece on the fork before smiling. — I'm glad you like it.

— So you invite everyone to your place and treat them with an omelet who will lend you a helping hand?

— Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Of course not.

— Hmm, then what did I do to deserve such an honor? — Blade pushes his empty plate away and leans back on the sofa, watching you chew slowly, seemingly considering his answer.

— Mm… I don't know. Maybe I just feel like I can trust you.

— Is that so?

— Oh, what do you want me to say? I just did it because I wanted to.

— I think there are other reasons for that.

The fork slips out of your hand, clattering to the floor when you catch Blade's face in your peripheral vision, too close to yours. So much so that you can feel his breath and the familiar pleasant aroma coming from him, mixed with tobacco notes.

— W—what are you doing?

— You're blushing, Y/N, — you feel the touch of a cold leather glove on your cheek. In the dimness of the room, lit only by a couple of nightlights, Blade's face seems simply unearthly. So handsome, such perfect features, such mesmerizing eyes that you can't tear yourself away from. You flinch when Blade snatches the plate out of your hand, putting it on the coffee table where you are sitting. — Did you know that your liking for me is too obvious?

— I—I don't know what you're talking about!

— Really? Then why are you letting me touch you now?

Damn.

Indeed, your body treacherously succumbs to his touch, and all your thoughts are clogged only with the question of what his lips taste like? On the other hand, there's nothing abnormal about it. You're an adult woman and it's quite normal to show feelings towards someone, especially since it doesn't look like Blade doesn't reciprocate them. Or does he need you just to have fun? No… He doesn't look like that kind of person.

— And if so? What then? — you swallow nervously, continuing to maintain eye contact with Blade.

— Then I don't see a single reason why I couldn't do it.

And everything around you seems to acquire bright colors that you have never noticed before. Your heart is pounding in chest, and your stomach is cramping with pleasant spasms when Blade's lips are pressed against yours. Even better than you imagined. Soft, slightly moist, when you bite into each other's lips over and over again, the taste is as pleasant as his smell, remotely leaving the taste of cigarettes on your tongue. His big gloved hands are walking around the curves of your body, and you can't resist it. You don't want him to stop.

You moan contentedly in the kiss, and Blade swallows any sounds that come out of your throat, pressing more and more insistently into your lips and thrusting his tongue into your mouth, allowing him to wriggle around yours. Oh, there's practically nothing to compare you to, but this kiss is the best thing that's ever happened to you. Passion and desire oozes from every movement of his lips, his touch burns your skin even through your clothes. You inevitably fall onto the sofa cushion when Blade presses down on you with the weight of his body. You feel his hands leave you for a moment, and the first piece of clothing that ends up on the floor of your house — gloves — flies off from his palms. His long fingers skillfully straighten the buttons of your shirt, and finally, you can feel the warmth of his skin on your chest when he squeezes your elastic flesh with his bare palms, without taking his eyes off your lips for a second.

It's all so much like a dream, and if it is, then you don't want to wake up anymore. Let at least today, at least now you will feel welcome in the arms of a man who has been making your heart flutter for a long time, while your tongues waltz with each other, not wanting to break away from each other. So sweet, so nice. Have kisses always been so pleasant? Then you should have lived your life differently, or were you just taking care of yourself so that your first real, such an amazing kiss happened with him?

You choke, grabbing Blade's leather jacket, automatically pulling it off his broad shoulders and sending it to the floor after his gloves. And at that moment, Blade pulls away from the kiss, hovering over you and taking a breath for just a couple of moments. His fingers move to the hem of his T-shirt, hastily pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere in the corner of the living room. Even in the semi-darkness, you can admire how beautifully his long hair is tousled, how his eyes are clouded with desire and every bulge on his embossed abs. You can't resist touching his firm chest with your fingertips, tracing lines down his torso to the bottom of his stomach, where your hands stop.

You hesitate, suddenly feeling a strong excitement. You have never seen even what you see now before, and a certain fear that you can now expose his body even more has settled in your chest, causing uncontrollable anxiety.

Blade looms over you, still calmly and intently looking into your eyes when you blush and try to look away, hastily removing your hands from his body.

— I'm sorry, I'm just… — you swallow a lump in your throat, returning to your voice a tiny fraction of the former, already meager, confidence. — I'm a virgin! God… I don't believe I'm saying this.

— Mm, seriously? — Blade's big palms are returning to your body again. His long fingers slide along the curve of your neck, sinking lower and lower, bypassing the bulge of your chest and tense stomach, before reaching the zipper of your jeans. — Then I have to fix it.

You almost squeal from the way his warm fingers touch the bottom of your stomach when he undoes the button in one movement, then just as quickly to deal with the zipper. You squirm in place as you watch Blade pull down your jeans over your legs. It's all so awkward and so embarrassing when you notice how his gaze falls on your underwear, which seems to be already soaked to the skin after your kissing session.

Blade makes a brief eye contact with you, as if for the sake of decency, checking whether you agree to him pulling off your panties, but, to tell the truth, he didn't care about your permission. Thoughts of you have filled his head for too long. What is happening now is not an accident, but the result of strict adherence to the plan that Blade adhered to. The fact that now you are so wet, flushed and ready for everything with him is the fruit of his titanic patience. He wanted to take you even at the first meeting, even at the moment when your arms wrapped around his waist, even when your breasts pressed against his back. And even earlier, when he watched for months how boring your life was. Work, home, and then work again. Womans at your age prefer pleasure and entertainment to such a gray lifestyle, so why aren't you like that? He had many women who loved luxury, money and sex — all that he could offer them, but they bored him even in those moments when they opened their mouths. Not a single honest word ever escaped from their lips, only lies, flattery and lust, which oozed out of their every pore just to get what they wanted. But you're not like that. You're a boring, ordinary person. People like you are called gray mice, nothing stands out from the crowd. But that's why you caught his eye. Blade noticed that, despite the fact that you are quite antisocial, you are always kind to others, you are always honest and fair, incorruptible and frank in everything you say or do. The sincere interest with which you studied his motorcycle or the way you stole glances at him himself could not but touch Blade. A lump of purity and innocence that he should tarnish in order to make his own.

And now you are just as innocently and sincerely moaning, not pretending for a moment, but only drowning in the pleasant sensations that his palms give you, sliding along the inside of your thighs, getting closer and closer to your underwear. You're shy, you turn away, but then you turn your gaze back to him when the thin fabric of your panties slowly slides down your thighs to your ankles to completely leave your body. Blade grabs your leg under the knee, throwing it over his shoulder, and bends down to leave a wet, long kiss on your thigh while his eyes seem to burn holes in yours. In your pure and innocent eyes, on which tears of happiness mixed with embarrassment are about to roll, which you do not hide in any way, presenting yourself to Blade as you really are. You're not fake, you're real.

He closes his eyes, sinking lower, and presses his lips to the soft flesh of your crotch. You shiver and squirm, not saying a word, just watching Blade through half-closed eyelids, trying to restrain your moans.

— I'm curious, — Blade murmurs into your heated skin. — Did you touch yourself when you thought about me?

— Wh-what? — his question puts you in a dead end and makes you blush even more. Blade already knows the answer, but will you be honest or will you lie to him? — I… uh, yeah.

God, where did you come from? Perfection.

Blade spreads your legs even wider without delay, running his tongue over your wet folds until he reaches the clitoris, circling around it with the tip. You cover your lips with the back of your hand, unsuccessfully muffling the moan escaping from your chest. And Blade just enjoys your taste. The sweetness tickling his tongue like nectar, the only one in the whole world that can quench his thirst. He is insatiable, persistently lapping up the moisture of your arousal. Next time, you shouldn't bother cooking dinner, because that's enough for him.

You make such sweet sounds — music to Blade's ears. And how did he live without it before?

You've never experienced anything like this in your life. It seems so dirty and so embarrassing, but his tongue wriggles so pleasantly between your folds, casually touching your throbbing clitoris. It's all so new and unusual, and so… Excitingly. You just can't believe that the man you're in love with is now so greedily giving you pleasure. It all makes you feel so special, so loved, even though you have no idea who he is and how many women he had before you, it was all so unimportant. He's with you tonight, he chose you—and that's all that matters.

Your legs shudder when you feel Blade's finger slowly sinking into your insides without any warning. It feels completely different than when you did it yourself. You've always masturbated with such caution, fearing to feel pain, but Blade does it so persistently and consciously, as if he's done it thousands of times. You would like to be upset about this thought, but right now your head is too full of thoughts about how damn nice it is to feel him inside. You just let go of any extraneous thoughts, plunging into these delightful sensations.

— Oh, wait, Blade! — you cry out when you feel your walls stretch when his first finger joins the second. It's slightly painful, but the prickly feeling suppresses the indescribable pleasure when Blade completely ignores all your alarmed sounds and words, adamantly pursuing the intention to bring you to orgasm.

But it was enough for you how his fingers bent inside, pressing on some particularly sensitive point, forcing your back to arch and your lower abdomen to twist from a delightful feeling, different from how you brought yourself to a climax on your own. Much brighter waves of pleasure spread through your muscles while you writhe in the grip of the Blade, which does not slow down at all, prolonging this sweet feeling.

You open your eyes lazily when you feel Blade pulling away. You are greeted by an obscene picture of how he greedily licks his lips, glistening from the mixture of his saliva with your moisture.

— Now you understand what you've been giving up all your life, huh? — Blade lifts up, hovering over you. His lips are almost touching yours as he continues to speak. — But you've been saving yourself for me like a good girl.

From his words, a pleasant heat spread again in the bottom of your stomach. The tips of his long hair tickle your face as he lifts himself up to straighten the fly of his trousers. You feel ashamed again at the thought that you could have done it yourself. For some unknown reason, you are afraid to look down again, but you take a deep breath before coming face to face with what was bothering you so much a moment ago. All your anxiety literally recedes into the background, giving way to real fear when a massive, thick and long cock appears before your eyes, menacingly directed by Blade's palm towards your crotch. Swollen veins stretch along its base, and the head glistens from the pre-ejaculate oozing from the urethra.

— Stop! Blade! — you're backing away, unsuccessfully trying to bring your legs together. Blade's free palm lands on the inside of your thigh, stopping you.

— Hm? What happened?

— I can't! That is all… It's too big… — you mumble to yourself, looking away in embarrassment. Your hands reach for the edges of your shirt in a vain attempt to hide at least your breasts from Blade's eyes, but you are immediately stopped by the way Blade forcefully spreads your legs again, settling between them and grabbing your wrists, pulling you back. You plop down on the couch again, crying out in fright as Blade fixes your hands above your head with one palm, while the other returns to his cock again.

— You can. It's okay, it's what you wanted, isn't it? — the tip of his cock slides pleasantly between your folds. — Look how wet you are. I don't think you would have started flowing like that if you didn't want me. Then what's the problem?

— I-I… it's going to hurt me…

Blade freezes for a second before moving closer to your lips again, leaving a short, as if pretending to soothe kiss on them.

— It won't, I promise, — he whispers into your lips, and you swallow hard, sobbing softly from the tears that have welled up in your eyes. For a moment, you even forgot that he had just forced you to obey him by buying into a promise carelessly thrown in your face. You nod uncertainly. — Good girl.

It seemed like every muscle in your body tensed up when you felt the head of his heavy cock travel down from your clitoris before menacingly resting against your entrance. Perhaps it seemed to you because of the poor lighting of the room, but you are ready to swear that Blade's face was distorted in a sinister grin before his cock began to insistently make its way into your insides, stretching the tight walls that resist.

It hurts. It really hurts. Did he lie?

—B-Blade! It hurts me, wait! — you squirm in his grip, trying to free your wrists, but his palm squeezes them tighter, not allowing you to move under the weight of his body.

But he doesn't listen, continuing to persistently move further and further until his cock completely fills your insides. You scream and whine, squeezing your eyes shut when salty tears inevitably begin to roll down your cheeks. Only when the Blade reaches the limit in your vagina, he stops, exhaling heavily into your lips.

— See how perfectly you accept me, — his husky velvet voice whispers, settling an unpleasant echo in your head.

You don't understand what's going on. Where did the man with whom you kissed so sweetly just recently on this very sofa go?

Wait a minute…

You will suddenly be pierced by the disgusting realization that he was not a bit gentle with you from the very beginning. Everything he did was just his own desire. He never asked for permission, literally forcibly persuading you to what he needs. Is this really the person you fell in love with?

The sharp pain begins to gradually subside until exactly the moment when Blade's hips are pushed back to crash into your ass with force. And then again. And again. And again. His thrusts are deep and persistent, gradually gaining momentum. You do not lose hope of at least freeing your hands, twitching them in Blade's grip, but unsuccessfully, as before. His fingers wrapped around your wrists with incredible strength, seemingly instantly leaving bruises on your skin. You continue to whimper and sob, rocking on the sofa in time with his ruthless movements. Gradually, the pain mixes with a treacherous feeling of pleasure, which begins to intercept dominance, causing this pleasant heat in the bottom of your stomach. No matter how rude Blade was, he is still a divinely handsome man who chose you for tonight, and this thought began to repeat itself in your mind over and over again, like a mantra calling you to calm and relax. You should give yourself up to pleasant sensations, discarding all prejudices, because tears and attempts to resist now will not give you anything, except that your body will be covered with even bigger bruises from the way his thrusts become more and more lashing as you try to escape more and more desperately.

What a pity that you don't know that he didn't choose you for this night. You belong to him from now until you take your last breath.

Gradually, your sobs are replaced by stifled moans, and your lips open when you meet the gaze of Blade looming over you. His scarlet earring swings in a shock of tousled pitch-black hair, bangs frame his face, and fiery eyes do not tear away from yours, hypnotizing you with lust and obsession burning in them.

— Haha, does it hurt now? — Blade's free hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head back so he can get a better look at your tear-stained, flushed face. — You should see your face now. I resisted so much that now I give up and enjoy it like a whore.

For some reason, his insult only brought you even closer to the edge. When did you manage to become so depraved that dirty things like this began to excite you? You wanted to respond with something, to do at least something to refute his words, but the way his cock began to move even more insistently and quickly, stretching your insides and touching all the most sensitive places, literally knocked down any thought that surfaced in your mind. All you were capable of was making vulgar sweet sounds, inciting Blade to move even more vigorously until your throat began to tear from screaming.

His heavy palm moves from your jaw to your throat, pressing hard on your fragile neck. The movements of Blade's hips became so careless and the rhythm had long been lost while he was blindly chasing his own pleasure, neglecting any dissatisfaction that might surface on your face. But even that didn't happen. Because you're too perfect for him, accepting him for who he is and really enjoying the way he's using your body right now. You are sincere even in this, unable to hide how much you like how he roughly fucks you, forcing you to suffocate from the force of the pressure of his hand on your throat.

He can't hold back the grim grin in which his lips stretch when Blade notices how your eyes roll up and your back desperately arches towards him while a wave of the second orgasm rolls over your body that night. He absolutely doesn't care how sensitive you will be after that, he doesn't care that he can cause you discomfort or hurt, he just continues to ruthlessly bump into you with his hips until his cock begins to throb and swell inside your uncontrollably spasming walls from excessive stimulation.

— You want me to cum inside you, huh? — Blade coos, tilting his head to the side and watching the expression of helplessness and loss painted on your face as you open and close your mouth in a futile attempt to answer his question. In fact, you didn't even fully understand what he was asking, too lost in the fog of pleasure that overwhelmed your body and mind. — Hm. It's your first time, I have to be polite, don't I? — you groan hoarsely, looking at him through heavy eyelids and eyelashes wet with tears. — I know, I know that you want this, but you and I have our whole life ahead of us. I promise that I will fill you more than you can fit, but next time, and today… Let me be a gentleman, okay?

Even Blade himself was amused by his own words. He has never been a gentleman, never thought about how others feel, always getting only what he needs from life, ready to step over even corpses if necessary. But today, with you… Perhaps he really got a little emotional.

After a few careless thrusts and restrained quiet moans, his cock abruptly burst out of your insides. His palm released your throat, allowing you to finally take such a welcome breath of air, moving onto his cock, making several hasty strokes before you felt an unfamiliar hot sticky liquid flood your stomach. You were trying to catch your breath, still not daring to open your eyes, but you could hear Blade breathing heavily, now releasing your wrists and pulling away from your body.

You blink several times, trying to focus your vision, blurred from the drops of tears that have settled on your eyelashes. Only after a few moments does the vile realization of what just happened come to you. But all those words that Blade said… now they belatedly cut into your thoughts, scrolling over and over again. He wasn't serious, was he? You exhale heavily, grabbing your throat with your palms, before rising from your seat and feeling the viscous drops of sperm flow down the bottom of your stomach. You looked down, noticing, it seems, a completely ruined sofa, stained with your secretions, drops of blood, now mixed with semen. It all looks so terribly dirty, but for some reason you feel an amazing lightness and relaxation in your body. Is this how people usually feel after sex? It really doesn't seem like it was what you imagined, but you can't help but admit the fact that it was nice in a way.

You look up, meeting Blade's eyes. His long fingers plunge into the sweat-damp curls of his bangs, combing the unruly strands back. His lips stretch into a grin as he looks you over, noticing how messed up you are.

— Blade… — your voice sounds so hoarse and quiet that you can barely hear yourself.

— Yes?

— You're… You weren't serious about saying all that, were you?

— What exactly?

— Well, about that… That we have our whole life ahead of us, — you move your hands to your shirt, covering your chest with a thin cloth, and bring your legs together, awkwardly fidgeting in your place on the couch.

— Hm, — Blade bends down, cupping your jaw with his palm hard enough to make you flinch in fright, but not enough to hurt you. His lips meet yours again in a short but insistent and possessive kiss. — This is the pure truth.

[hobiebrownismygod]

VENOM - Part 3

Venom!Hobie x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Having a symbiote is a canon event, so Hobie brown must've had one of his own, right?

~1.6k words

TW: Blood, Cursing, Angst

Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @s6onder @@d0ubl-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558 @choccymilkdrinker @fiepige (concept credits!!)

Concept art by @levionok!!

Navigation

{prev|next}

Where the fuck is he?

You'd been calling Hobie nonstop, the contents of the video file flashing through your mind as you searched for him. You drove around the city on your bike as quickly as you could, eyes scanning the roads and alleyways for any sign of your best friend.

After you'd kicked him out yesterday, you hadn't heard a single word from him. He hadn't picked up any of your calls, and you hadn't found him anywhere. Usually you'd at least see him swinging around the city, doing his thing as Spider-man. But you hadn't.

Not a single glimpse.

So where could he be?

"Excuse me, miss, this is gonna sound really weird but...have you seen Spider-man anywhere lately?"

"Spider-man? No..I actually haven't."

"Alright, thank you. Sorry for the bother." you nodded at the woman before zooming back onto the street, joining the traffic as your head began to hurt with worry.

Nobody else had seen him either.

You didn't know what to do. How were you supposed to find a man that obviously didn't want to be found? Or what if...what if something had happened to him? What if that symbiote had done the same thing to him that it'd done to all the other 'volunteers'?

You sped up, panic settling in the depths of your stomach. You felt like you were going to be sick. The thought of Hobie...losing himself to that thing...no, no, he was too strong for that. He wouldn't.

Right?

Suddenly, you slammed on the brakes, the bike coming to a halt as a flash of black flew right in front of you, too fast for you to make out what it was. You squinted as it moved farther into the distance.

Could it be?

"Hobie?" You whispered to yourself, eyes wide with fear. The flash had been a figure, a human figure, pitch black with snow white eyes, mixing into the rest of its body like running mascara. Without a second thought, you kickstarted the bike, following the figure as it swung through the city, in a pattern eerily similar to the movements you'd seen Hobie practice so many times as Spider-man.

It was him...but it wasn't him.

You were struggling to keep up with the figure, already accelerating past the speed limits and having to swerve between lanes and other vehicles. But you couldn't lose him...if you did, you might never find him again.

The figure swung onto a tall building, hitting it with a powerful crash, causing some rubble to fall down to the pavement below, eliciting yells from those situated under it. You took your eyes off the figure for a moment to get out of the way of the debris, but when you looked back up, the figure had disappeared.

"No, no, no!" You exclaimed, stopping in your tracks, looking around furiously as you scanned the sky for any sign of him. "Fuck!"

Taking your helmet off, you threw it onto the ground in frustration, breathing heavily as you tried to calm yourself down. You couldn't make a scene. Taking a deep breath, you looked back up at where the figure had made contact with the building. Claw marks.

That's a start.

You got off the bike and began to walk down the street, looking up at the other buildings. "Come on...there has to be more" you muttered under your breath, turning around in the middle of the street. Your gaze landed on a building, maybe a 100 feet in front of you, with the same large gashes on the side.

You approached the building, and then you saw more, these ones on the edge of the roof of an apartment. A girl was standing outside on its balcony, looking utterly confused. You gave her a nervous smile before you continued to search.

You found yourself following a trail of, not only claw marks, but holes that looked like they were made by spikes, and faint footprints...but could you really call them footprints? They didn't look like footprints. More like giant dents in the pavement, always coming in groups of four, two in the front and two in the back.

As the scratches and dents increased, you realized you were approaching an alleyway, a skinny, dark one, with a few larger garbage bins blocking the entrance. You were about to continue your search down the street, but then you noticed the scrapes on the concrete below the containers.

He was here. He had to be.

Using all your strength, you pushed the bin to the side with a grunt, making space for yourself to squeeze through.

At the end of the alleyway was that figure, huddled up and facing a corner. You watched in horror as the darkness covering the figure disappeared, as if it was just melting away. Underneath it...was Hobie.

You were about to call out his name when you heard something. Sniffling.

"Please, please stop doing this" he whimpered out.

You walked a little closer, staying as silent as humanly possible. He hadn't seen you yet. As you approached him, you noticed he was talking to something. A...head. But it wasn't a human head, no, it was the head of the figure you'd seen jumping through the city, with its giant white eyes and midnight black skin, except this time you could also make out a mouth full of sharp white teeth, pointed like those of a dragon.

"Get out of my head-"

"We're not in your head...we're real."

You froze. What was that voice? It was like a hiss, the kind of voice a snake would have if animals could speak. The kind of voice you'd hear in your nightmares. And it looked like a nightmare, smiling up at Hobie, trying to convince him of...whatever it was trying to do.

"We're hungry..." it hissed. "We should eat another"

Another?

"No" Hobie sobbed, falling to his knees. You'd never seen him look so defenseless before. Whatever this thing was, it was hurting him. Badly. "Just get out, GET OUT!" He yelled out, grabbing at the thing. The head, you realized, was connected to Hobie's chest by a long, pitch black neck, for lack of a better word. It dodged out of his grasp and elongated, wrapping around him tightly.

Hobie struggled, and you watched in horror as the face held him up, squeezing him so hard he looked like he'd break. "We can't get out now...we are one." The face opened its mouth, revealing a long, disgusting tongue, licking at Hobie's face as he sobbed. "One."

It hissed before closing its mouth, knocking its head against Hobie's and throwing him back. The head slithered back towards him, sinking into his chest and disappearing, leaving Hobie shaking. He curled up against the wall, hands over his head.

You decided this was your chance to approach him. You slowly walked towards him, staying slightly crouched. You could hear him crying softly, face hidden behind his arms.

"Hobie?" you whispered out.

He looked up and you jumped. He looked horrible. His face was stained with blood, lips cracked and bleeding, dark circles under his eyes and oh god...his eyes...they looked so big and watery and miserable that you just wanted to hold him and tell him it was all going to be okay.

But you couldn't promise that.

"No...no y'can't be here" he whispered, backing up as you approached him, eyes darting to the side as if he was looking for some sort of escape. "hey, hey its gonna be okay" you replied softly, kneeling down in front of him.

"What happened to you?" You asked softly, reaching your hand out towards his face. He leaned in to your touch, hot tears beginning to form again. Suddenly he jerked back. "You have to go." He said nervously, pushing you away as he struggled to stand up, shaking. "You have to go!"

"What?" you stood up with him, putting your hands on his arms and looking up at him concernedly. "Hobie, I know what's going on, I know what that thing's doing to you-"

"Its gonna hurt you" he sobbed, falling back against the wall for support. "Please, it's gonna hurt you, you need t'get out of here, please" he cried.

"Hobie, I know what it is, I know what it's doing to you-"

"I-I can take care of m'self, you need to go-" suddenly, he clutched at his head, letting out a yell. You backed up out of fear as he convulsed, clawing at his hair. "Hobie!" You grabbed his hands to stop him from tearing his own skin, "-There's nothing there, there's nothing!" You told him, trying to hold him down.

"NO-NO-" He yelled out, punching and clawing.

Suddenly, he stopped. He fell silent, eyes closed.

Then he crumpled to the floor.

"Hobie!" You fell to your knees next to him, turning him over and trying to shake him awake. Tears were beginning to form in your own eyes as you begged him to get up. "Please, wake up, Hobes please" you whispered, cupping his face in your hands and shaking him.

Then you heard a quiet hiss. Strands of black began to cover him like vines, wrapping around his arms, legs and chest. You tried to rip them off, but you couldn't stop them. Stumbling back you watched as the darkness covered him completely, morphing him back into that same figure you'd seen before.

Except this time...there was more.

The black skin erupted in spikes, covering his shoulders, spine and hands, sharp as crystals. His eyes opened slightly and he looked over at you, a tired look on his face. "Y/N..." he croaked out, lifting his arm to reach out towards you.

The black crawled up his neck, vines enveloping his mouth and face until it was like he was wearing a mask, not a single inch of skin visible.

"Hobie..." you whispered, shaking your head as you pushed yourself back.

"Y/N..." he repeated, eyes closing.

Suddenly, they swung open, the whites of the mask having covered them completely.

"Run."

A/N: Lol cliffhanger. Next part will probably be the last one. Hope y'all enjoyed this <3 Also it's taking me a lot longer to get posts out cuz midterms are kicking my ass so sorry for the delay :(

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Hi hon, I've been reading your work for our lovely Jethro Gibbs, and I had a lil fic/drabble idea of my own- if you have the time

Lets say you and Gibbs are on vacation, and you convince him to go biking with you. He grudgingly agrees, and when he sees you happy and looking back at him smiling hes just so whipped- maybe thinking about how he got so lucky and just tooth rotting fluff, yk? (He would def try to race you) ♡

I’m so sorry this took me so long to get to 😭 But this request is too cute 🥹 I hope I did your idea justice!

—————

“Come on, Jay,” you groan, “When’s the last time you rode a bike? 1914?”

“A little earlier actually,” he fires back, barely repressing a smile, “before we boarded the Titanic.”

Dropping your phone in the wicker basket attached to the handle bars, you make your way over to your husband of 4 days and 16 hours, give or take a few with the time difference in Italy. You slide his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and settle them in his hair before lovingly running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks. “You look downright fabulous for your age. What’s your secret?”

He gently brings your left hand to his lips and kisses the band adorning your ring finger. You can’t help but smile at the gesture. “I marry younger every time.”

Your smile drops immediately, and you playfully glare at him. “Ruined it.”

Jethro barks out a laugh, tugging you closer and pressing his lips to yours until he feels them twist upwards into a grin again. “Better?”

“No,” you answer cheekily, pulling away to get settled on your seat. “As punishment, I hereby declare you enjoy a leisurely bike ride with your wife down to the coast.”

He shakes his head with a smile as you take off down the road, ringing the little bell and taunting him over your shoulder. Jethro swings his leg over his matching bicycle and readjusts his sunglasses before pedaling to catch up. He’s admittedly a little wobbly at first and he feels the tiniest bit ridiculous, but when you turn to look at him with a brilliant smile, all of his insecurities melt away.

You’re positively glowing in the Amalfi sunshine, your nose crinkling in delight and a laugh bubbling out of you when you narrowly avoid a street vendor selling flowers on the sidewalk. Jethro slows to apologize to the vendor, surprised when he shakes his head and offers a single flower to the older man before pointing in your direction. Your husband angles his head in thanks, then doubles his efforts to reach you again.

“What happened to ‘leisurely’, you little speed demon?” Jethro calls, and you crest to a stop to wait for him.

“Sorry, slowpoke,” you tease, your face lighting up when he presents the vibrant red rose to you. Your eyes flutter closed as you inhale deeply, and when they open again, Jethro feels his heart skip a beat at the pure adoration swimming in them. “It’s perfect,” you declare, sweeping your hair into a low bun and tucking the stem behind your ear.

“You’re perfect,” your husband croons, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. He says it almost subconsciously, but the meaning behind the words is genuine. He can’t help the slow smile that spreads across his face as he takes in your beautiful features, the way your head is tilted just slightly while you study him in kind, the delicate wisps of stray hairs framing your face, the twinkle in your eyes. A soft dusting of pink colors your cheeks under his intense gaze, and you turn away bashfully with a quiet, “Stop looking at me like that or I’m gonna melt, Jay.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and nudges your back tire with his foot to get you moving again. You start pumping your legs to continue down the street, and when you turn back to see where Jethro is, you find him looking up at the sky with a small smile on his face.

“What was that about?” you ask gently when he’s by your side again.

“Oh, that?” He places his hand over yours on the handlebar and gives it a squeeze. “Just thanking Shan for sending you to me.”

Tears spring to your eyes at the raw emotion in his voice, and you think about how far you’ve come since the day you first met Jethro. Your reminiscing is short-lived, the cheeky bastard taking advantage of your pause to get ahead of you and yelling, “Race ya there!”

You laugh in surprise, hastily swiping at your eyes before kicking off from the street. “Get back here, old man! You’re supposed to let me win! You’ve been married enough times to know about happy wife, happy life- hey! Cheater!”

[wannabepoeticischiya]

Weak

[ 04 ] — an offer she could definitely not refuse

⟵ prev | master list | next ⟶

My daily routine is very simple. I wake up and I suffer.

There wasn't a day in (Y/n)'s life where she didn't think about how to pulverize Gojō in multiple excruciatingly painful ways. From the moment she had met him up until the present where her hatred for that blasted sorcerer was at its peak.

Even now as she maneuvered around the city on her black motorcycle trying to get away from the three first years who were still pestering her to help them.

Tch! Persistent brats!

(Y/n) shifted gears and proceeded on running three red lights all the while swiftly and barely dodging the cars that had met her as she throttled full speed on the opposite lane.

I have a bloody helmet on! How can they even tell it's me?!

Detouring through a truck lane, she looked back to see if those pesky brats were still on her tail. Through her tinted visors, (Y/n) saw a huge bird-looking thing up in the sky, seemingly dotting on her current location.

Nue...

At the sight of the flying chicken on her side mirrors, a flash of black, spiky hair flooded her vision, momentarily blinding all coherent thoughts.

Tch! I remember who you are now... blessing.

An ear-piercing sound shattered her train of thoughts. (Y/n)'s head coiled so inhumanly quick that if she had not been a sorcerer, it would've twisted and detached from her neck before rolling onto the asphalt road.

Her (e/c) irises had met with the front of a container truck. The bloodstained cracks painting the windshield, confirmed the existence of a curse. How it even got inside the cabin, she had no idea. What more, how it perfectly intercepted her at this very second, she had no clue.

Her assumptions that were thought of on the spot was proven to be correct when she saw that in the place of the driver was a blob of internal organs all mushed up like a pile of freshly dissected intestines with a mix of vomit, staring right into where she was currently speeding—straight into its direction.

And with not enough time to think, her fingers had moved on their own to cast a perilous technique, one she had not done in many, many years.

"Charge—" with her fingers crossing and holding one another... "Hellfire." She cast.

The atmosphere around the vehicle had erupted into flames, glittering fire that had framed the truck into that single frozen motion. Quickly as the flames had eaten the hunk of metal, (Y/n) jumped from her vehicle and found herself rolling onto the road, barely preventing herself from being consumed by her own Jujutsu. Originally, she was worried about having to replace her handbrake, how expensive it would cost, the meals she'd have to cut to afford that. Now, she didn't have to think about that anymore... because now, had to replace everything! Her motorcycle just drove itself straight into the hellfire that was quite literally her jujutsu.

There goes my baby...

The sorcerer released a relieved breath as what stood now in the place of the truck and was once her bike was a stuffed bear with white fur that radiated a huge amount of cursed energy.

(Y/n) stood up to wobble her way to the little bear in the middle of the road.

This... was... a bad... idea—

Tossing her headgear somewhere, the woman struggled to catch her bearings as anything and everything multiplied into two more versions of itself, distorting her vision as the reality of what she did dawned on her in finality. A throbbing pain ripped at her body as she felt as if her organs were being burned and iced at the same time.

Why... did I do... that?

Her vision began accumulating dark spots as breathing suddenly became such a difficult thing to do, and the constant blares of truck horns did not help one bit. (Y/n)'s hand grabbed the fabric of her shirt as the other held on the railings for support.

This is all your fault, Goj ō !!

The ringing in her ears became deafening as (Y/n) felt a warm, metallic-smelling and tasting substance drip from her nose and pool inside her mouth.

"(L/n)-san!"

(Y/n)'s vision had contorted as she looked up and suddenly began seeing two to three younger versions of an all too familiar Zenin outcast running towards her.

The sorcerer had tried to fight back the urge to pass out, not wanting anyone—especially not his child—to have to be the one to bring her home or worse... kill her.

"I don't need... your... help."

But before the intended words could roll off her tongue, the sense of consciousness and awareness had slowly begun detaching itself from her body leaving her completely defenseless to the young sorcerer in front of her, and to the entire Jujutsu society.

"She's knocked out." Itadori skidded to a stop right in front of the unconscious woman. "Hurry! Let's take her to the school before she wakes up!!"

---

"LET ME GO YOU LITTLE MOTHER FU--"

Yuuji and Nobara both hid behind Fushiguro for protection. Their eyes reflected fear with a glimmer of worry as they watched the older woman scream and thrash around the ropes and talismans they had wrapped around her.

"(L/n)-san, we just really need your help—" Fushiguro tried to reason, holding up his hands in defense as he slowly began to approach the fuming woman.

"I TOLD YOU!" (Y/n) glared menacingly at them, eyes practically glowing with the intent to slaughter these little pests until they were no longer anything but a bunch of compiled meat.

"EVEN IF SOMEONE WERE TO BLOWTORCH A JAR OF RATS ON MY FACE AND HAVE THEM EAT THROUGH MY SKULL I. AM. NOT. HELPING. THAT. NARCISSISTIC. PSYCHOPATH. EVER!" The way she had pressed on every syllable made it obvious that there was no room for argument, but of course... the three first years were persistent.

Although they wouldn't show it, the sight of the sweaty woman tied up on the chair whose messy hair was sprawled all over her face was downright terrifying. And her ragged breath and the deadly glint in her eyes added more effect to her already intimidating and horrifying appearance. The scenery that had met their eyes looked as if Sadako had crawled all the way up from her well and possessed the woman to keep being so irrationally impossible.

The reasonable of the three first years was so close to giving up. A little more push on his patience and the thought of letting Gojo die will begin to seem pretty decent in his eyes.

"(L/n)-san—" This time it was Itadori who tried to talk, he hoped that perhaps a little friendliness and warmth in this harsh, held-against-your-will situation could coax some consideration into (L/n)'s wretched and selfish soul.

But of course, it only caused (Y/n) to exasperatedly sigh and dramatically roll her eyes at him.

Her response caused the young shaman in training to flinch and back away to the far corner, fearing that another meep from him would result in that horrendous witch to obliterate him to dust.

"You're being so unreasonably unfair—" This time it was Kugisaki who butted in, accusingly pointing her finger at the unfazed woman.

"PUH-lease!" (Y/n) exclaimed, startling them all into silence.

"Let us make one thing clear here, brats." She eyed each and every single one of the children who wouldn't stop annoying the living daylights out of her, drilling in the much-needed heavyweights of spooks into their overconfident veins.

"I... do NOT care... what happens to that brainless idiot! Even if he were to die a gruesome death, you would never see me mourn for the likes of him! You three are lucky enough to even have this conversation with me right now much more still breathe with that tone you are using on me."

"So... while I can still manage my anger—" (Y/n) gestured to the ropes that were made binding her, "let me go."

(Y/n)'s suppressed cursed energy threatened their own as her growing rage began thawing what was left of the students' resolve to help their teacher. "I was okay with living my quiet life, alone and away from that eyesore. Now, I just want to regain that peace of mind knowing that I'm a hundred thousand kilometers away from that Oompa Loompa."

Your students take after you... couple of little shi—

"What will it take to convince you, (L/n)-san?!" That pinky boy was the first one to muster up the courage and ask, slowly inching away from the corner he had hidden himself in. His eyes shone with the determination that vaguely hid the looming sense of fear that continued to haunt him.

(Y/n) scoffed at him, spitting her accumulated saliva to the other side of the room.

Desperate now, are we?

The older sorcerer looked them up and down and began estimating that the only thing keeping these first years from running out the door was their sheer willpower and probably the innocent compassion that they had for Satoru.

"Nothing—"

"We'll pay you." Now it was mini-Fushiguro who had bargained. From (Y/n)'s experience with Clan outcasts, they were the ones who were most likely would hold true to their words, as opposed to those who are reveled and worshiped by their family like some sort of god, nothing but filthy, dirty little traitors.

His words had made her put a small gram of adoration for the boy with sea urchin-like hair, the gram that Satoru would never get given his relationship with (Y/n) at the moment.

"Oh yeah? How much are we talkin' 'bout here, spiky?" (Y/n) challenged, teasing the sorcerer to egg him on.

"Five million dollars. Five million and you can leave with your sanity intact."

⟵ prev | master list | next ⟶

[monosanimegenericzone]

Hunter x Hunter: Phantom Troupe - Blonde Squad

idk how the hell to format this but here i go.

The poll has spoken. i post the sillies on tumbl.

Summary: i give the troupe motorcycles. suffer.

I bullshit a lot and this takes place during a random troupe related mission. the ending is meh. look at the pretty bikes instead ooh yeah ooh

Shalnark & Phinks & Pakunoda, A little touch of Chrollo too.

2.2k words <- yeah i have no idea how that happened

Art Behind the Scenes: https://www.tumblr.com/monosanimegenericzone/763741984903086080/whee-art-progression?source=share

CW: shooty bang. a little murder. this is hxh tho so idk what you were expecting

cw2: very meh ending. this is your final warning.

“Your target is the green truck heading east. Don’t let it get on the freeway,” Chrollo’s voice crackled as Shalnark ran. Shalnark grinned, “Got it! We’ll take care of it!”

“I’ve got rides,” Phinks shouted as Shalnark took his phone away from his ear, “Right around this corner!” 

They rounded the bend and Shalnark gasped aloud. Waiting for them were three identical bikes, shiny and- they looked new! 

“Courtesy of Kortopi,” Phinks grinned, slapping Shalnark on the back, “Paku you know how to-” 

“Yes, I know how to ride,” She gave him a look and came up to the second bike, “Make sure Shal doesn’t start crying. He looks like he might.”

“He’s fine,” Phinks snorted and sat down on the first, “Just happy I finally let him have his own.”

“Phinks this is so sweet!” Shalnark wiped a fake tear from his eye, “I could kiss you!”

“Ew, save it for later,” Phinks started the ignition and revved the engine, “Let’s get going!”

Without waiting, he tore across the sidewalk and streaked into the busy street. Paku smiled softly and quickly followed with screeching tires. Shalnark eagerly brought up the rear, stuffing his hair into a hair tie and then taking off. 

The road was suddenly very unsafe. Phinks led the pack, head down and scanning. He swerved to avoid a crowd of cars and checked the side streets. Anyone in his way would have to dodge him, he wasn’t stopping. He saw a flash of green through the buildings and abruptly swerved at the next intersection. 

Cars honked angrily and someone slammed on their brakes to avoid hitting him. Pakunoda and Shalnark zipped after him, narrowly dodging another car. The vehicles smashed together behind them. With a fresh fire burning on their tail, Shalnark picked up speed. 

Another turn and they all locked onto the target. 

They were chasing an armored vehicle, labeled with a bright sailing ship on the back. With the way it was weaving through cars, it was definitely their mark. A street with three lanes was too small, but the truck was barrelling right through the cars that refused to get out of the way. 

Pakunoda sighed irritably. She swerved around a crushed car and inched closer to the truck. She couldn’t shoot and drive without compromising valuable reaction time. With the speeds they were going, she couldn’t afford even a second of distraction. 

The truck ran two red lights. Horns blared and a car halted just shy of hitting it. Paku veered around it, closing in on the cab. As she got closer, she realized the windows on the driver’s side were reinforced. They were heavily tinted, but with the passing street lights, she could see the moving heads of three guys in the front. Her pistol wouldn’t be able to take out all three of them. Not in one shot. 

She spared a glance in her rearview mirror. 

Phinks leapt over a moving car and hit the ground right next to her, “You got a plan?” 

“No. The windows are too thick for me to shoot through and they’re moving too fast to get a reliable hit.”

“What about the trailer?”

“It’s a single truck, not a trailer. Unless we can stop it in its tracks, we can’t get to the container.”

Shalnark had fallen behind. He saw the two racing side by side just behind the truck and scowled. Oh it was a race now was it?? Shalnark hopped the curb and gunned down the clear path. Pedestrians screamed, diving out of the way as he ripped down the sidewalk. 

He reached the same conclusion as Pakunoda: the truck was impenetrable, they’d have to find some way to stop it. Phinks wouldn’t have time to charge up nearly enough to stop something that fast and heavy. 

Heck, even Uvo wouldn’t be able to stop it. 

They’d have to get the vehicle to crash. All three of them realized this at the same time. 

The door on the back suddenly swung open. Paku gasped and immediately braked. She swung around the car behind her as a masked man stuck his head out and aimed a rifle at Phinks. 

Phinks swore and quickly shot forward as the man opened fire. Bullets sparked on the street and a random car’s tire burst. Rubber squealed and even Shalnark had to dodge the car that came careening off of the road. 

They were nearing the highway. A bridge appeared in the distance and the truck was barrelling right for it. 

Phinks was right next to it. He was out of range of the gunman but he was running out of time. He could go for the tires or try to knock the truck off course. With just a base punch he could make it shift just enough to get it into the shoulder. But that was too risky-

Something crashed behind him and he turned to look. A truck behind them had smashed head on with another car going the opposite direction. Its bed snapped in half, creating a perfect ramp. 

Phinks’ eyes widened as he saw Pakunoda going straight for it. No way. 

She hit the ramp and leapt an easy twenty feet in the air. The truck collapsed and erupted in flames as she let go of the handlebars. Mid-air, Pakunoda leapt off of her bike, dropping in a perfectly calculated arc. She dropped, heel first towards the window and slipped her handgun from her waist. 

She grabbed onto the roof of the truck and swung in through the open door. The soldier shouted in alarm as she smashed her heel into his jaw. 

There were three others riding with the payload. Paku ducked down behind the still-falling body and lifted her weapon. One bullet through the torso, then the skull. One bullet through the leg, then the throat. She fired twice and all three soldiers dropped dead. 

Overhead, the bike hit the bridge and exploded into a plume of orange flame. Phinks whistled appreciatively, and Shalnark pulled up close behind. The truck missed the entrance onto the freeway. They could keep it in the city. 

Pakunoda inspected the far wall. No doorway to speak of and a titanium wall too thick for even the highest caliber weapon they had in storage. A bazooka would probably make a dent, but not enough. She selected a single shot rifle, heavy in hand but she could make it work. She headed to the back of the truck, waving down one of the boys. Shalnark got closer and sat up on his bike, “There’s no door??”

“It’s an isolated cab,” She hung with one arm out of the side, “I can work with a window though.” 

“Got it!” He let go and held out a hand for her. She slung her new weapon over her shoulder and grasped his hand. With a single leap, she let go of the door handle and into his arms.

The bike swerved a bit but he brought it under control as she seated herself on the back of the bike. Shalnark sped up as the truck made a wild right turn to try and block them off. Phinks balked and rode next to them, “That was fucking crazy!”

“It worked!” Shalnark laughed, “I’m going to get Paku a shot. Think you can stop it?”

“We’re running out of things for it to run into, but yeah, I got it,” Phinks grinned, “Right or left?”

“We’ll take left! Don’t get crushed!” Shalnark jeered and leaned away. 

Together, they flanked the truck, Shalnark and Paku on the left, Phinks on the right. The driver saw Phinks first and veered to the right, trying to crush him on the street barrier. He balked, cutting the gas and slowing down just enough to dodge. The truck scraped hard against the railing, throwing sparks across the road. 

Luckily or unluckily, the truck had chosen a backroad with no other cars. Shalnark veered into the opposite lane, slowly creeping up to the window until they were neck and neck. He saw the shadow of the driver’s head turn and heard some muffled shouting inside. But it was far too late. 

Paku raised her rifle, humming with a hostile, yet beautifully violet, aura. The driver had milliseconds to react. She tilted her head to the side and lovingly placed a finger on the trigger, “Goodnight.”

The barrel cracked and the window shattered. Bulletproof or reinforced. It could do nothing against a .4 shrouded in a gun woman's nen. The bullet pierced the thick glass and all three heads in a neat row. The opposite window splintered, decorated with a fresh splatter of blood and brains. 

It did the trick. Pakunoda ejected the empty shell and Shalnark pulled back. The truck listed to the left, dragged by the dead man’s limp corpse. Phinks pulled up next to it, arm reared back. He managed to get two charges, and he could only hope it was enough. He twisted over the front of his bike and slammed a glowing fist into its side. 

Steel groaned and its tires screeched in pain. The truck lurched to the side, careening off the road and straight for a run down storefront. Phinks skidded to a stop, spinning on his front tire to watch the truck smash head first into the brick and mortar. It was kind of underwhelming to be honest. The glass snapped like it was made of plastic and the crumbling walls were just depressing as they caved in. Shalnark pulled up next to him, whistling through his teeth. 

The truck came to a dead stop, covered in debris and broken glass. Pakunoda brushed her hair out of her face, “Mission complete.”

“Damn right,” Phinks cut the engine on his bike and flicked the kickstand down, “Alright, let’s grab the stuff and get back to base.”

“I call dibs on not driving it back,” Shalnark shut his bike off as well. 

The payload was unharmed and surprisingly light. Phinks ripped the steel cage off of it and wrestled the crate out of the back of the truck. After some argument and Pakunoda threatening to shoot one or both of them, they decided to flip a coin to determine who would be in charge of transporting it. 

Shalnark lost. Pakunoda rode with Phinks. 

They rode in silence, at a moderate pace.

Phinks glanced at Pakunoda over his shoulder. She was still carrying that gun from earlier. She met his eye and leaned back a bit, “What.”

“You’re keeping that?”

She hummed and unslung one arm from around his waist, “Yes, it’s a nice piece. Might be useful for the rest of the week.”

“Thought you were a pistol only kinda person,” Phinks shrugged.

“I prefer pistols. But, in events like today I might want some heavier firepower.”

“That’s what Franklin’s for.”

“True. He’s not here though is he?” 

Phinks paused, “. . . yeah. You’ve got a point.”

From there on, the ride concluded in silence. They drove out into the rundown city, surrounded by darkness and broken buildings. Somewhere in the throng of urban wasteland was a large building. Probably a shopping center of some kind, rotting away from the inside. 

The two bikes pulled into the gaping maw that used to be its front doors and rumbled to a stop. Phinks shouldered the box and they approached the others. Shalnark called out into the darkness, “Danchou! Target eliminated! And the payload has been safely rescued!”

Moonlight provided merely a thin veil of light. Candles made up the rest. Seated atop the collapsed remains of the roof, Chrollo lifted his head, “Nice job. Saved us a day of searching.”

Phinks dumped the box in the middle of the room, “So, what’s in this thing?”

“Open it,” Chrollo stood up and picked his way down the landslide. Phinks obeyed and pried the lid off. Shalnark gasped, headbutting Phinks away as he gawked, “That’s so much money!”

“Roughly 50 million,” Chrollo stopped at the edge of the crate, “Assuming it’s filled end to end.”

“Feels light for 50 million,” Phinks elbowed Shalnark in the face and folded his arms. Shalnark squawked, rubbing his nose. Pakunoda stepped forward, “It could have something else hidden inside. Another safe maybe?”

“Let’s see,” Chrollo reached in and began shifting the stacks of bills aside. 

Some many minutes of digging later and they discovered a plastic cube buried five layers deep. Phinks grunted, “Huh. Would you look at that?”

Chrollo gingerly lifted it out of the pile, “And this is what we were looking for.”

“Is it the guy’s will?” Shalnark asked, dumping his armful of money back into the crate. Chrollo turned the cube around a few times and then nodded, “It is.”

He looked at the three of them, “Good work. We have fourteen more to go.”

“Nice!” Shalnark grinned, beaming from ear to ear. Chrollo returned the gesture, though his smile was faint, “I’ll let you know if the other teams need help. Ideally, they won’t let any getaway vehicles slip through like this one.”

“What about the money?” Pakunoda spoke up, folding her arms gently. Chrollo made no comment on her new toy and instead paused to consider her question, “. . . keep it. We’ll spend it where we please.”

“Rodger,” Paku nodded. 

“. . . so, drinks?”

// jazz hands.

// hope you like

// i have panels storyboarded but this took me a week (motivation ass) so. who knows if or when i will ever have those finished.

// ;w;

// posting this before i change my mind. im rereading and dying of embarrassment.