#shaking with barely contained rage

[justablah56]

ok guys after meticulously undoing 7 truly absurdly complicated rows. I did in fact fuck up somewhere. fuck man.

I am going to kill this pattern.

[eternal-aster]

Love how every side-by-side design comparison of Ferncloud and Ashfur I see looks like this

[fates-theysband]

the dog who is so overstimulated he cannot move

[stainapologists]

Fujika is envious of Momo in a way that's so intense it's almost disgusting. Momo effortlessly embodies everything Fujika aims to imitate, she's so pretty and kind and smart. Fujika just fucking hates it. She wants to hate Momo too, but can't find a legitimate reason. Every interaction they've had has been so pleasant, Momo is nice to Fujika even though she's so. Weird. That adds to it. Why does Momo get to be so perfect without trying? Some people have all the luck.

[spindash]

hi everyone 🙂

[askwilliamwisp]

Sorry about the Liver :[

I thought you’d want it…

Also 10/10 would steal liver again-

……

i.

if you ever. ever. lay another fucking hand on vyncent. you’ll wish i had only stolen your liver. even the afterlife will not be safe for you. but i think i could find an even worse fate. i’ll fucking find you if you even think about it.

[magic-is-something-we-create]

been working on the brainstorming for arthur's illustration and it's been one of Those Days™ where it feels like every time im 2 minutes into the flow state im interrupted so heres a look at the rough sketch + color test because im proud of accomplishing. This Much. today

[shinkai-kaiju]

i wonder how many bg3 playthroughs I can get though before my insurance actually gets back to me on my fucking appeal

[luna-azzurra]

Showing 'Anger' in Writing

Clenched fists and knuckles turning white.

Eyes narrowing to slits, brows furrowed.

Jaw muscles tensing visibly.

Speaking through gritted teeth.

Taking deep, sharp breaths.

Pacing back and forth, unable to stay still.

Pointing a finger accusingly.

Voice raising to a shout or a growl.

Kicking or punching nearby objects.

Lips pressed together in a thin line.

Rapid, agitated movements.

Slamming doors or throwing objects.

Standing with arms crossed tightly.

Glaring intensely without blinking.

Face turning red or flushed.

Breathing heavily and erratically.

Snapping at others for minor things.

Shaking with barely contained rage.

Muttering or growling under their breath.

Eyes blazing with fury.

[mangooes]

Arguments and understanding

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Sylus.”

(Name) stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, her hair spilling down her shoulders like defiant flames. Her eyes sparkled—not with their usual mischief, but with frustration.

“You’re being unreasonable,” Sylus shot back, pacing like a caged storm. His crimson eyes burned. “You always run headfirst into things without thinking!”

“And you always try to control everything! I’m not one of your pawns, Sysy. I’m your wife!”

The name on her lips softened the edges of the fire—but only for a second.

Then it happened. He didn’t mean it.

But his voice rose. Not in anger—but in panic. In fear.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed, (Name)!”

Silence dropped like a hammer.

Her expression broke—not entirely, but enough that the hurt cracked through. No witty comeback. No sarcasm. She just… stared at him, the silence between them so loud it rang in his ears.

Then, without a word, she turned.

Walked out.

The door clicked behind her.

And Sylus… let her.

He stood in the suffocating quiet, heart pounding like war drums. His pride told him to let her breathe. His logic told him she’d be back soon.

But something deeper—the dragon part of him, the soul that remembered a girl wrapped in light—twisted in warning.

Minutes passed.

Then an hour.

Then two.

By the third hour, Sylus was pacing like a storm god barely contained. The moment Luke and Kieran passed by, catching sight of his expression, they froze mid-step.

“Where’s the Missus?” Luke asked slowly, already fearing the answer.

“She’s not back yet.”

The twins didn’t need to be told twice.

Without a single order, they bolted—checking city surveillance, phone pings, familiar haunts. Sylus called Mephisto to life with a hiss of his Evol, the mechanical bird’s eyes flashing as it shot into the night skies.

And Sylus?

He grabbed his helmet, swung onto his obsidian-black bike, and rode like hell.

Street after street blurred into streaks of neon and darkness. He searched alleyways, rooftops, the hidden corners of N109 where shadows whispered danger. His Evol flared with every heartbeat, a restless mist of crimson and black wrapping around him like a cloak of rage and desperation.

She was gone.

And all he could see in his mind was her again—that past life, when she left to protect him and never returned.

His hands shook on the handlebars.

He couldn’t lose her again.

He wouldn’t.

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

When dawn broke and the search turned up nothing, Sylus reluctantly returned home, jaw clenched, every muscle in his body wound tight.

The manor was quiet.

Too quiet.

He stepped through the front door, and for the first time in hours—he saw her.

There she was.

Curled up on the couch in her coat, cheek pressed to a throw pillow, a soft rise and fall in her chest.

Sleeping.

As if she hadn’t just ripped the soul out of him for the past five hours.

Sylus didn’t move at first. He just stood there, frozen in the doorway, trying to make sure it wasn’t some hallucination. That she was really here.

He stepped forward. Then another. And another.

Until he dropped to his knees beside her, breath catching in his throat as he reached out, gently tucking a few stray strands of her hair behind her ear.

She stirred slightly. Her lips were parted. Her cheeks faintly flushed from the cold. She smelled like winter wind and sugar.

Sylus exhaled—long and shaking—and leaned down, kissing her forehead with trembling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her skin. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Carefully, he picked her up, lifting her effortlessly into his arms and sinking onto the couch with her sprawled across his chest. She shifted instinctively, nuzzling closer, her arms wrapping loosely around his middle.

Sylus rested his cheek against her curls.

Only then did he allow himself to close his eyes.

Only then did he breathe again.

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

The sun was just rising when (Name) blinked awake.

She felt warm.

Safe.

Trapped.

Because she was completely, utterly caged in by her husband—Sylus's strong arms wrapped tight around her as if she’d vanish again if he so much as loosened his hold. Her legs tangled with his, and her cheek was pressed to his bare chest where his heart beat like a war drum.

She shifted, squirming slightly.

Sylus stirred.

Eyes fluttered open—burning crimson in the early light. The moment he realized she was awake, he sat up halfway, holding her face in both hands.

“Sweetie,” he breathed, voice ragged. “Gods—I thought I lost you.”

“I just went for a walk…” she mumbled, guilt instantly sweeping through her when she saw the raw emotion in his eyes.

“For hours,” he said, voice cracking. “Without a word. No Mephisto. No calls. I searched the entire goddamn city for you.”

Tears prickled her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was being selfish. I didn’t think… I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Sylus didn’t reply.

He just pulled her in and kissed her—deep and fierce and full of everything he didn’t know how to say with words. She melted into it, fingers clenching in his shirt, tears slipping down her cheek.

“I’m here,” she murmured against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not unless you want me to lose my mind again,” he said softly, kissing her forehead.

Meanwhile, outside the hallway…

Luke and Kieran dragged themselves into the manor, looking like war survivors.

Kieran squinted at the living room. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

Luke groaned. “Yep. Boss and Missus making out on the couch. Again.”

“…They couldn’t even pretend to be traumatized with us.”

Luke shook his head. “I want a raise. A big one. With hazard pay.”

“Same. Let’s go lie down before one of them starts baking ‘apology cookies’ again.”

The twins retreated with groans while peace finally returned to the mansion.

And on the couch, Sylus held his wife like a lifeline—his soul finally, finally whole again.

HI IM SORRY IF THIS IS NOT TOO ANGSTY I TRIED OKAY AKSDNASK I CANT WRITE ANGST FOR GODS SAKE LMAOO

[justablah56]

every time I see someone type ahh in the place of ass I am fighting the urge to kill

[john-get-the-salt]

Rage (w/ Jack Abbott)

Imagine: An incident brings the rage out of Jack, but luckily you have the ability to calm him

Contains: Reader who works in the Pitt in unspecified role, angry/protective Jack

Warnings: brief violence towards reader

AN: you can’t convince me Jack wouldn’t BEAT someone’s ass for you. He totally would. And I would thank him

It all happened so fast you barely had time to comprehend what was going on.

One minute you were working in the Pitt, talking to a couple that came in with a DV related injury. You were trying to deescalate the situation and calm down the raging boyfriend-and the next minute you were on the ground, head pounding and vision swimming.

Had he just hit you? You could taste iron on your lips and your hands were stinging from catching yourself on the ground.

You heard someone yelling in the distance, or was that you? You couldn’t tell-and then someone very close to you was calling for security.

You blinked furiously, trying to clear the black spots and finally you focused as a face was coming into view. Robby.

“What-what happened?”

“Can you stand?”

You nodded, wincing when it made a spike of pain radiate through your skull.

Hands were on your forearms-Robby and Dana. They helped you up on wobbling knees, and with a few more blinks your vision was starting to improve again. But you did not like what you saw.

Jack had the man who had hit you pressed up against the wall with his hands pulled behind his back. Jack was hollering in his ear, threats that if he ever touched his girl again he-

“Jack!” You’d never heard Robby’s voice so loud and thundering before. It was enough to get Jack’s attention, and his eyes landed on you.

“Leave him,” Robby ordered. “I will stay with him until security gets here. She’s bleeding she needs you.”

That was enough to snap Jack out of it. He released the man and stalked over to you without another thought. As he reached for your arm your knees began to give out so instead he swept you up into his arms.

Your senses were all jumbled, sounds and sights and thoughts all messed up and nonlinear. You allowed your eyes to close as you were carried, the rocking motion soothing.

“Hey-don’t close your eyes. Not yet, just keep em open for me sweetheart, okay?”

You hummed in acknowledgment and managed to open them and keep them open as Jack finally set you down in a room. Dana closed the door behind you both, leaving it just the 3 of you. She turned the lights lower, which immediately helped with your head.

“I’m ok I just need-what-I’m all jumbled. What happened?”

“He fucking hit you,” Jack seethed as he roughly put on gloves. “I could kill him.”

You winced at the loud voice, causing him to pause and then slow down.

“I got this Dana, just make sure that…fucker stays put until the cops get here.”

Dana didn’t argue, shooting you a look before pulling the curtain shut and leaving.

“The cops? Jack I’m ok you don’t-”

“Don’t.” His voice was calmer now, and that may have fooled other people but it didn’t fool you. You could hear the restrained anger, see it in his set jaw.

He ran you through the usual work up and concluded you most likely had a concussion, though he insisted you’d be getting a head CT just to be safe. You didn’t argue.

“I still don’t really understand what happened,” you mumbled, rubbing at your eyes. Jack, who’d been carefully wiping the blood away from your busted lip, was quiet for a moment.

He then took his gloves off before taking your hands in his, and it was then you realized that he was shaking. You looked up at him and his eyes were glassy.

“Hey-baby, talk to me.”

“I coulda fucking killed him.”

“But you didn’t-

“I wanted too. If Robby hadn’t stopped me I probably would have pummeled him for touching you.”

“Baby-“

“I won’t apologize for that. I’m supposed to protect you-and I didn’t.”

“You can’t be at my side every second of every day. Things are going to happen.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You shook your head. There was no use arguing with the man when he was all worked up like this.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I hope Robby doesn’t give you too much shit.”

Jack scoffed. “Robby looked like he wanted to sucker punch him too. And I thought Dana was gonna kick him in the dick.”

You laughed and Jack visibly relaxed at the sound.

“You sure you feel ok?”

You nodded, pulling his hands up to your cheeks so he would hold your face.

“I’m sure. Thank you for taking care of me, i love you.”

“I love you too.” He leaned in and allowed himself to give you a few delicate kisses, still worried about your head.

“Now do you think the security cameras caught all of that?” You asked, a bit of playfulness back into your voice. “Cause I would like to see all angles of my hot boyfriend coming to my defense and kicking some ass.”

Jack smirked, helping you stand from the exam table.

“That can definitely be arranged.”

“We’re gonna be the talk of the town now,” you said with a sigh. You’d managed to keep your relationship on the down low for the most part, but that was going to be the case anymore.

“To be fair I would’ve gotten involved regardless of who got hurt.”

“Yeah, but that restraint was a bit much.”

“You liked it just fine the other night.”

You punched Jack’s shoulder while he gave you a cheeky grin.

“Shut up and take me to CT. I’m ready to go home.”

“Aye aye captain.”

[rizzanon]

.

m.list | prev | next

The door slammed open so hard it reverberated through the sterile hospital room. Bruce didn’t flinch. He barely blinked. He just sat there, slumped in the hard plastic chair, his hand resting on yours—cold and lifeless beneath his touch.

“What the fuck am I looking at?”

Bruce didn’t answer, didn’t lift his head.

“Bruce.”

Nothing.

The last fraying thread snapped. The figure crossed the room in a hearbeat, and the next thing Bruce registered was a fist colliding with his jaw.

Crack.

Bruce hit the ground with a heavy thud, his head snapping to the side as the impact split his lip and bruised the skin around his cheekbone. He didn’t move to defend himself, didn’t even try to stand. He just lay there on the cold tile, blood pooling in his mouth, the metallic tang sharp on his tongue.

He deserved this.

“Get up,” Jason spat, towering over him. His chest rose and fell like a man drowning in rage. “Get the fuck up!”

Bruce pushed himself into a seated position, back against the chair he’d fallen from. Slowly, he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Jason…”

“What the hell happened? Tell me, Bruce. Tell me why—“ Jason’s voice shook as he gestured wildly toward your body. You, lying there on the hospital bed, covered with a sheet up to your chest. Still. Too still.

“Tell me why the hell am I looking at her like this?!”

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, his own voice hoarse, like gravel scraping against stone. “She went after a drug ring. Alone.”

Jason froze. A muscle ticked in his jaw, his eyes blazing. “What?”

Bruce hands dropped into his lap, empty and useless. “She tracked them down herself. She found out where they were moving shipments. I don’t know when she left—by the time I realized, it was already too late. She—“

“And you let her??!” Jason’s shout rang through the small room, loud enough that the walls almost shook. He pointed at Bruce, his hand trembling. “You let her go after them?! Alone?!”

“She didn’t tell me.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Jason’s voice cracked, raw and vicious. He let out a bitter, humourless laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me, Bruce? You’re BATMAN. You’re supposed to KNOW when this kind of shit is about to go down!”

Bruce finally lifted his gaze to Jason, his face haggard, the bruising around his jaw already deepening. “She didn’t tell me, Jason,” he repeated quietly, like the words were an admission of failure. “She went on her own.”

Jason’s fists clenched at his sides, knucles white. “You should’ve known she’d do this! You should’ve stopped her! You’re supposed to keep her safe—that was your job!”

Jason’s voice cracked again on the last word, and Bruce couldn’t meet his eyes.

“She made her choice.”

“Bullshit!” Jason snarled, stepping forward like he might hit him again.

He should, he thinks.

“She shouldn’t have had to make that choice. She wouldn’t have done it if she thought she didn’t have to. She—“ Jason’s voice faltered for the first time, his fury cracking around the edges, breaking apart into something more brittle. He turned his head sharply toward your still form, his chest heaving.

Jason’s voice dropped, quiet and shaking. “She’s dead.”

The words hung in the air, terrible and final.

You were dead.

His sister was dead.

Jason let out a shaky breath, raking a hand through his hair. He turned toward the wall, his vision blurring, the tight knot in his chest turning into something he couldn’t contain. Before he knew it, his fist collided with the drywall, the sound loud and violent as it split under the force.

“Goddamnit!” Jason’s voice broke, raw and thick, the cracks in the wall mirroring the fractures in his heart. His chest heaved, his legs suddenly feeling too weak to hold him. He stumbled back a step, then two, before his knees hit the ground.

Bruce didn’t move.

Jason leaned back against the cracked wall, his forehead dropping against his knees as he struggled to breathe through the sickening weight pressing down on him. His voice was barely audible now, a broken rasp.

“She’s dead,” he whispered again, like saying it out loud would make it easier to believe. “Damnit, Bruce, she’s gone. She’s gone.”

He was furious at Bruce. For allowing this to happen. First him, then Alfred, and now… you.

He was furious at himself. If he’d just been there…. If he hadn’t stayed away like a selfish coward, like he thought pushing you away would protect you, like he thought pushing you away would make you drop the mantle, maybe—maybe—this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe you wouldn’t be lying there, cold and lifeless.

“Goddamnit,” Jason choked out, his fingers gripping his hair as he tried to keep himself from shattering completely. “I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve been there.”

Bruce, still on the floor across from him, watched Jason quietly. His voice, when it came, was low and rough. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fail her.”

Jason’s head snapped up, his eyes red-rimmed, furious. “You did. You failed her.”

He bowed his head down, and gritted his teeth. “….And I did too.”

With that, Jason fell silent. He stayed there, crumpled on the floor, staring at your lifeless form as the weight of it all—your death, Bruce’s failure, his own failure, his regrets—settled over him like a suffocating shroud.

And for the first time in a long time, Jason didn’t know how to pick himself back up.

The night was deceptively calm, a quiet blanket over Gotham that felt almost serene. But Dick’s heart was anything but that. It hammered in his chest like a war drum, each beat fueling the storm that raged inside him. In the shadowed alleys and dimly lit streets, he moved like a storm, tearing through the remnants of the drug ring that belied the peaceful night.

Every punch, every kick was driven by something deeper—something raw and consuming. His movements were precise, brutal, and unrelenting, each strike a wordless scream of anguish. This wasn’t just justice. It wasn’t even revenge.

This was the drug ring you had been chasing. The one responsible for your death.

And Dick wasn’t stopping until they felt the full weight of what they had taken from him.

One of the thugs came at him with a crowbar, swinging wildly. Dick ducked low, his movements precise, and drove his elbow into the man's ribs. The thug stumbled, wheezing, but before he could recover, Dick caught him with a roundhouse kick to the temple. He went down hard, blood streaking his face.

Another rushed him from behind, but Dick anticipated it, pivoting sharply and catching the man's wrist mid-swing. He wrenched it back with brutal efficiency, the crack of bone echoing in the alley. The man screamed, but Dick silenced him with a punch to the throat, sending him crumpling to the ground.

A third lunged at him with a knife, slashing at his chest. Dick sidestepped, grabbed the thug by the wrist, and twisted hard enough to disarm him. The blade clattered to the ground as Dick's fist connected with his jaw, snapping the thug's head back. He didn't let up, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall.

“Where are the rest of you?” Dick snarled, his voice venomous. The man whimpered, struggling against his grip, but before he could answer, another figure charged at Dick.

This one didn't even make it close. Dick spun, releasing the man he'd been holding and delivering a brutal flying knee to the newcomer's chest. The thug crumpled on impact, choking and gasping for air. The alley was littered with bodies-groaning, bloodied, broken.

But it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

Dick's eyes locked on the last thug, the one who'd been cowering in the shadows, trying to make a quiet escape. His boots crunched on the asphalt as he closed the distance, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. The man froze, wide-eyed, as Dick grabbed him by the front of his jacket and slammed him against the wall.

“Where's the rest of your crew?” Dick growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“I-I don't—“

The man's excuse was cut off as Dick slammed him against the wall again, harder this time.

“Don't lie to me,” Dick hissed, his grip tightening. His knuckles were already sore and bloodied, but he barely noticed.

“Where are they?”

The thug whimpered, trembling under Dick's glare. “Warehouse... on 14th... Please, man, I'm just—”

“Shut up.” Dick's voice was ice, his eyes dark with fury. He raised his fist, ready to deliver another blow, but a voice crackled in his ear, sharp and commanding.

“Nightwing!”

Dick froze, his fist hovering in the air.

“Dick, that's enough!” Barbara's voice was firm, but there was a crack in it—a tremor that cut through the haze of rage clouding his mind. “They're down. He's down. You've got what you need.”

For a moment, Dick didn't move, his chest heaving, his fist still trembling in the air. Then, slowly, he let the man drop. The thug collapsed to the ground, coughing and clutching his chest, too terrified to move. Dick turned away, his hands shaking as he secured the thugs with cuffs. He didn't bother calling it in to the GCPD. He just fired his grappling hook and ascended to the nearest rooftop, the wind whipping at his face as the adrenaline began to fade.

And then the guilt hit.

The rooftop was silent save for the distant hum of Gotham below. Dick leaned heavily against the ledge, staring down at the city that had taken so much from him. He pressed two fingers to his comm.

“Oracle,” he rasped, his voice raw. “You there?”

“I'm here.”

There was a beat of silence before Dick spoke again, his voice trembling. “I should've been there, Babs. I should've been there for her.”

Barbara's breath hitched over the comm. “Dick—”

“I was supposed to protect her.” The words came out sharp, biting, the anguish behind them bleeding through. “I'm her big brother, Barbara. I'm supposed to protect my family. Protect her.” His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms hard enough to break skin. “But I wasn't there. I wasn't there, and now, she's...” His voice cracked, the rest of the sentence dying in his throat.

Barbara's voice was soft but steady. “You couldn't have known, Dick. You were-”

“Don't,” he snapped, his anger flaring again. “Don't tell me I couldn't have known. I should have known. I should've been paying attention. I was in Bludhaven, dealing with lowlifes while she was...” He trailed off, his chest heaving as he struggled to find the words.

“She was dying, Babs,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I wasn't there. (Name) is dead.”

Barbara was silent for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was laced with pain. “You're not the only one who feels this, Dick. Don't act like you're the only one who lost her.”

Dick let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You don't get it—”

“Don't I?” Barbara's voice cracked, sharp and raw.

Dick froze, his breath catching.

“She died as Batgirl,” Barbara said, her tone trembling with emotion. “She died wearing my mantle. Do you think I don't blame myself for that? Do you think I don't feel like it's my fault she's gone?”

Dick turned, guilt twisting in his gut as he heard the crack in her voice.

“She was under my guidance,” Barbara continued, her voice rising. “She was wearing my symbol. That's on me, Dick. Just like how you thought Jason’s death was on you.”

Dick flinched at the name, his chest tightening painfully. That was a low blow. A low moment in his life in which he didn’t want to go through again. But here he was—

“So don't you dare think for a second that I don't understand,” Barbara said, her voice breaking now. “Because I do. I know exactly how this feels for you. Every second of each day, I feel it. And it’s killing me inside.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Finally, Dick spoke, his voice barely audible. “I can't lose another one of us, Babs. I can't. Jason came back, but she...” His voice cracked again. “(Name)’s not coming back.”

Barbara's voice softened, though her pain was still evident. “I know.”

Dick closed his eyes, the weight of his guilt pressing down on him like a physical force. “This is my fault, Babs” he admitted, his voice trembling.

“Not just yours… mine as well,” Barbara replied, her voice thick with emotion.

For a moment, neither of them said anything, the silence between them heavy with shared grief.

there was too much fluff (mlb asks + uf trio asks) posted tdy, i needed to balance it out 🥰🫶 i love it when dick goes feral in the comics lol (its hot)

taglist (1/2): @tricksters-maze @dusk-muse @quethekillerqueen @silverklaus @isupportorbitalbombardment @nxdxsworld @vanessa-boo @coffeeaddictxd @moonsbluekingdom @yuya-bubbly @percythebitchwitch @anonymousdisco @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @redsakura101 @what-0-life @idkwhattoputhete @secretyouthcomputer @witch-waycult @allycat4458 @dazed-lavender @eclecticfurylady @wizzerreblogs @marsmabe @daddysfangirls-dc @hoeinthehouse @beeweensblog @ilxandra @agent-nobody-knows @thethingwiththefeathers @mochiivqi @pix-stuff @narration-ator @nebulousmoon3990 @delias-stuff @froggy-voidd @jjsmeowthie @kore-of-the-underworld @nen-nyy @juthesillylesbain @vikkus-main @emilylouise123 @blueiones @horror-lover-69 @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wassupbroski55555 @reallyromealone @plsfckmedxddy @sea-glasses @203moonysello @luvly-writer @dovey-quacks2332 @love-theangel @hotdinoankles @vebbiewuzhere @animegirlfromvietnam @estreiiuh @simply-lovely78 @twismare @ssak-i @g4bbi3xx @alor-thes

[onlyforwoosan]

Heat Of The Night—✦

Pairing: Park Seonghwa (Racer!AU) × Female Reader (established relationship)

Wordcount: 5.8k

Synopsis: A brutal rivalry. A high-speed race. And Seonghwa, who’ll stop at nothing to win — including fucking you in the front seat while the world watches.

Genre: Smut, Enemies / rival tension, Dark romance, Racer!AU

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Public sex in a moving vehicle (during a literal race), Semi-exhibitionism (tinted windows), Fighting / violence, Blood mention, Possessive / dominant behavior, Praise & degradation mix

The night smelled like oil, concrete, and something sour—something violent waiting to happen.

The empty parking garage echoed with every footstep, the harsh fluorescent lights overhead stuttering and humming like they might give out at any second. It was the kind of place people pretended didn’t exist, a dead space between the city’s shiny surfaces.

Seonghwa stood under one of the flickering lights, head low, hands curled into tight fists at his sides. His black jacket clung to him, rain still dripping from the hem. He looked calm from a distance, still, controlled.

But up close, the storm in his eyes was undeniable. He was pissed. 

Across from him, His rival, Minjun, leaned lazily against a cracked pillar, a smirk tugging at his mouth. He looked untouched by the cold, by the hour, by the threat that hung thick in the air between them.

"You came," Minjun said, voice carrying easily in the emptiness. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jeans, casual, cocky. Like, this was a joke. Seonghwa wasn't having any of it. 

"You called," Seonghwa answered flatly. His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. The promise of violence was put into every word.

Minjun chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "Man... all this for a girl?" His hair was dripping a little. 

At the mention of you, something shifted behind Seonghwa’s eyes — a barely contained rage, flashing like lightning just before it strikes. You were his. 

"You really think you’re untouchable, don’t you?" Minjun pushed off the pillar, walking a slow circle around him. "Big man behind the wheel. Big man when she’s looking at you like you hung the goddamn stars."

“You don't even know. Shes mine, for fucks sake.” Seonghwa snarled. He was irritated that the younger would even dare to mention you. 

The black haired boy just scoffed. “Probablys a slut for you. A whore if i may add.” He snickered. The taller was this close to killing him. “Chill, dude. She's only hung for you.”

He paused, letting the words sink in before he dropped the real poison:

"But what happens when you can’t get to her fast enough, Hwa?"

Seonghwa moved before the last syllable even hit the air.

He was on Minjun in a breath, fists slamming into him with the brutal precision of someone who wasn’t just angry — someone who was fighting for blood.

The first punch made a crackling sound against Minjun’s jaw, sending him stumbling back, but Seonghwa didn’t let up. A second hit, cleaner, harder, broke across Minjun’s nose with a wet snap.

Minjun cursed, stumbling, blood gushing between his fingers as he clutched his face.

"You touch her," Seonghwa growled, voice rough and lethal, "and I’ll fucking bury you myself."

Minjun spat blood onto the concrete and laughed — a low, ugly sound that scraped at Seonghwa’s ears and made his eye twitch.

"You’re already losing, Seonghwa. You just don’t see it yet."

He lunged then, slashing his nails across Seonghwa’s cheek, drawing a sharp line of red liquid. The sting barely registered.

Seonghwa grabbed him by the jacket, slamming him into the pillar with enough force to rattle the crumbling structure.

"I’m not losing anything," Seonghwa snarled, nose inches from Minjun’s. His hand tightened around Minjun’s throat for just a second — not enough to choke, but enough to make the threat clear.

Minjun coughed, grinning through bloody teeth.

"Keep telling yourself that."

Seonghwa’s fist slammed into his gut once more for good measure before he shoved him down onto the filthy concrete.

Minjun stayed down this time, laughing weakly.

Seonghwa staggered back, breathing hard, the adrenaline crashing through his veins like wildfire. His knuckles were split open, thick warmth dripping down onto the floor in slow, heavy drops.

He glanced down at himself — blood on his hands, blood on his jacket, the thin sting of the scratch across his face starting to throb.

Good. Let him bleed a little.. It was better than letting the rage rot him from the inside out.

Without another word, Seonghwa turned and stalked toward the open side of the garage, the cold rain slicing across his face the second he stepped outside. He didn’t look back. He didn’t have to.

Minjun’s words followed him into the night anyway:

"You’ll crash, Seonghwa. And when you do... I'll take everything you love."

The door creaked shut behind him.

Seonghwa shoved his hood over his head, jaw tight, vision tunneling in on one thing — getting to you.

It was nearly 11 PM when you heard the soft click of the front door.

You barely glanced up at first, curled into the far corner of the couch, your phone glowing in your hand, the low hum of the TV playing some forgettable late-night show. You had been waiting for him. You always waited for him.

The second you looked up, though, everything inside you stilled.

Seonghwa stood in the doorway, soaked from the rain, hood falling back to reveal the shock of his dyed white hair — only now, it wasn’t just rain dripping from him. There was blood. On his shirt. Spattered in thin, dark smears across the collar. A few bits in his hair, even a faint smear along the sharp cut of his cheekbone. His fists were still clenched tight, the skin across his knuckles cracked and were scraped.

You dropped your phone immediately, eyes wide open. Oh god.. You thought.

“Hwa—” you gasped, scooting down off the couch. You were only wearing a pair of thin sleep shorts and a tiny cami top, the cold air instantly biting at your skin, but you didn’t even feel it.

You rushed to him, arms half-reaching — but you stopped short just inches away when your eyes caught the state he was in.

Your heart twisted painfully.  "Baby... what the hell happened?" you whispered, eyes scanning every inch of him.

Seonghwa shook his head once, slow, deliberate.  "Nothing," he said hoarsely. "I'm fine, angel."

You frowned deeper, stepping closer despite his warning. He smelled like rain, blood, and concrete. The sharp scent clung to him like a second skin.

"You’re bleeding," you pointed out, voice shaking a little despite your effort to stay calm. "And that—" you reached up, gently brushing a finger against the blood-stained strands of his hair, "—doesn’t happen from 'nothing.'"

He exhaled hard through his nose, body stiff as a wire. "It's over. I handled it."

You crossed your arms over your chest — the movement “accidentally” pressing your breasts together under the thin fabric of your cami top, but you were too worried to even notice the way his eyes flickered down, then quickly away.

"Hwa..." you said more firmly, stepping closer until you could feel the heat radiating off his body. "Please. Just tell me."

For a long moment, he didn’t speak.

Then his shoulders sagged the tiniest bit — like he couldn’t bear the weight anymore.

"Minjun," he muttered, voice rough, bitter.

Your stomach dropped.

"What did he do now?"

Seonghwa’s jaw clenched again, remembering what had happened earlier, the muscle ticking visibly. His fists were still tight at his sides, liquid dripping slowly down the curve of his hand.

"He made it about you," he said tightly. "Threatened you."

A beat of silence. The world tilted slightly around you.

Your hands moved before you even thought about it — gently, carefully, you reached up and cradled his bruised face between your palms. His skin was cold from the rain, but under your touch, you could feel the barely-contained fire.

You leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

It wasn’t a fiery kiss, it wasn’t desperate, just a grounding touch. A silent I'm here, you're not alone.

Seonghwa let out a shaky breath against your mouth, and for a second, all the fight drained out of him.

When you pulled back, you caught his hand, cold, bloodied, and laced your fingers through his without hesitation.

"C'mon," you murmured, giving a soft tug. "Let's clean you up."

You led him wordlessly down the short hallway into your shared bedroom, the rain still pattering softly against the windows outside. The room smelled like home, like you. It softened the hard lines of his body just a little as he followed you into the attached bathroom.

You flipped on the light.

The harsh, bright glow revealed every ugly detail — the split across his lip, the faint swelling at his cheekbone, the angry red scratch along his jaw. Blood smeared across the collar of his jacket, staining the fabric dark and rust-colored.

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the sting of emotion rising in your throat.

Seonghwa sat heavily on the edge of the bathtub, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His head dropped back against the wall, white hair splaying messily across the tile, eyes closing like he was exhausted.

You pulled open the cabinet under the sink, grabbing the first aid kit with shaking hands. When you turned back, he was watching you — eyes dark, hooded, tracking every movement.

Wordlessly, you knelt between his knees.

The first wet cloth you pressed to his split lip made him hiss quietly. His thighs tensed under your hands, his fingers twitching against the edge of the tub.

"You’re such an idiot sometimes," you whispered, voice thick.

He smiled — just a little. That lazy, crooked grin that always made you feel like gravity didn’t work right when he looked at you.

"Yeah," he murmured. "But you love me anyway."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was already breaking for him.

As you worked — cleaning the blood from his face, wiping the mess from his hair, carefully bandaging his knuckles — the silence between you softened. Seonghwa didn’t protest. Didn’t move away. He just watched you with something raw in his expression, something unguarded.

When you finished, you leaned back on your heels, studying him.

He looked wrecked. Beautiful. Dangerous.

And he was yours.

All yours.

Without a word, he reached forward, threading his fingers through your hair, tugging you gently closer until you were between his knees again, pressed against his chest.

"Thank you," he whispered against your forehead.

You squeezed him tighter, feeling the wild thundering of his heart under your palms.

“Of course, Seong.” You muttered and smiled as you ran your fingers through his semi damp hair. “I love you..”

“I love you more, sweet girl.” He says back.

“Now go take a shower so we can cuddle after.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes at your words.

A few days passed, it was race day. The garage buzzed with noise and energy.

Wrenches clanked against metal, compressors hissed as tires were checked and rechecked, and the heavy scent of gasoline clung to the thick morning air. Seonghwa stood by his car, a sleek, deadly machine of bright pink with the number 3 and a silver star emblazoned across the hood — arms crossed over his chest, black racing suit already half-zipped up.

"Pressure’s running a little high in the front right," one of the mechanics called, crouched down near the tire. "You want it stiffer for the turns or softer for the straightaways?"

Seonghwa crouched down next to him, one knee on the ground, scanning the gauge with a practiced eye. "Softer," he said, tapping the rim of the tire. "She’s light on her feet already. I want her to glide through the pack, not fight it."

The mechanic nodded, grinning.  "You’re the boss, Park. Pink star’s gonna fly today, huh?"

Seonghwa allowed a rare, sharp smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. "She always does."

He stood back up, wiping his hands on a rag, glancing over the rest of the crew making the final tweaks to the engine and fins.

He was just starting to mentally settle into race mode when he felt it.. A tap, sharp and deliberate, on his shoulder.

Turning around, his stomach coiled instantly at the sight.

Minjun stood there, fully suited up, helmet tucked under his arm, smirk stretched wide across his face like he was enjoying some private joke.

"Fancy seeing you here, Park," Minjun drawled, voice slick with mockery.

Seonghwa's smile disappeared. His entire body tensed, fists twitching at his sides, the vivid memory of the blood on his hands, the concrete under his boots flashing through his mind like gunfire.

Minjun only laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Relax. Wouldn't want your pretty little girl to see you lose your cool."

Seonghwa snarled low in his throat — a sound barely human — but before he could make a move, Minjun was already slipping away into the maze of racers and cars, his laughter trailing behind him like smoke.

Seonghwa stood still for a second, breathing hard through his nose, forcing the rage back down into his chest where it could simmer.

Not here. Not now.

Focus.

The minutes until the race start ticked by fast.

Seonghwa walked through the maze of engines and bodies, sharp-eyed, searching. And then — like the world sharpened into color — he saw you.

You were standing near the gate leading up to the stands, your hair pulled back loosely, wearing his jacket over your casual clothes. You looked soft and out of place among the metal and fumes, and yet somehow, you fit perfectly.

Before you could slip away toward the stairs, Seonghwa caught up to you, grabbing your hand gently but urgently.

"Ride with me," he said, low and serious.

You blinked, startled. "Hwa... that’s not—" "I know," he cut in quickly. "It’s not allowed. I know."

You glanced nervously around — mechanics, other racers, officials milling nearby. "Someone’s gonna notice."

"They won’t," he said, stepping closer, crowding into your space until your heart stuttered. His hand slid around your waist, tugging you just a little closer, his mouth brushing your ear as he murmured, "Windows are fully tinted. Nobody will see. And the crew—" he glanced over his shoulder briefly, "—they won’t say shit. They’re with me."

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he cut you off with a look — that intense, smoldering gaze that made your knees go weak every damn time.

"Please," he said, voice rough, almost desperate now. "I need you with me."

Your heart twisted painfully.

You could see it… The way his hands were tense, the way he wasn’t just asking to be reckless — he needed to anchor himself to 

You swallowed hard. "...Fine," you whispered.

His entire body relaxed for a half-second, pure relief flickering across his face.

Before you could change your mind, he tangled his hand with your hand again and led you back toward his car, weaving between the busy mechanics and racers like a thief sneaking away with stolen treasure.

At the sleek pink car, he threw open the passenger-side door with a flourish, holding it open for you like it was a damn royal carriage.

You bit your lip, nerves sparking under your skin, but you climbed in, the sleek black leather cold against your thighs.

Seonghwa slipped into the driver’s seat a second later, pulling the door shut behind him.

Inside, the car smelled like leather, smoke, and him — dark, electric, dangerous. The tinted windows wrapped you both in a bubble of secrecy.

Seonghwa turned to you, one hand already sliding over your thigh, possessive and grounding at once.

And as the chaos of race day rumbled outside, Seonghwa grinned — slow and wicked — and leaned closer, whispering against your lips:

"You’re mine now. All race long."

The engine purred beneath you, vibrating through the seat, through your body.

Seonghwa rolled the car up to the starting line, the slick pink paint gleaming under the brutal track lights. Beyond the tinted windows, the other racers were lined up, engines snarling and growling in the tense pre-race silence.

Inside the car, it was almost eerily still.

You shifted in your seat, nervous energy buzzing under your skin. Your legs bounced slightly, and you twisted your hands in your lap, trying to settle the storm inside you.

Three minutes to race start.

You glanced over at Seonghwa, only to find him already looking at you.

Something dark and hungry burned in his eyes, his lips twitching like he was barely holding back a grin.

"You’re antsy, Sweetie," he murmured, voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed, trying to laugh it off,  but before you could, he leaned a little closer and said:

"Ride me while I drive."

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide.

"What the fuck—" you blurted, face heating instantly. "You’re fucking crazy, Seonghwa!"

He chuckled — deep, rough, unchanged. Like he had all the time in the world to destroy you.

"Windows are tinted, angel," he reminded you smoothly, reaching out and running his fingers up your bare thigh, his touch making you shiver. "No one will see. No one will know. Just you and me." His hand slipped higher, just barely brushing the edge of your skirt, teasing. "You've thought about it before... haven’t you?" he added, voice dropping a shade darker.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because God help you, he was right.

Some stupid part of you had wondered what it would be like. The rush. The danger. The pure insanity of fucking him at full speed.  But you’d never dreamed he would ask.

"Seonghwa," you stammered, legs pressing together instinctively. "I– I don’t know if—"

He turned fully toward you, eyes black with need. His hand found yours, squeezing tight.

"Trust me," he said, rough and earnest. "I’ll keep you safe."

You hesitated for half a heartbeat. And then you let out the tiniest whimper, nodding once, your body betraying you.

Seonghwa’s grin broke across his face, wicked and victorious. "Good girl," he breathed.

The announcer's voice crackled over the loudspeakers:

"One minute until race start! Racers, get ready!"

Everything sped up.

Seonghwa leaned back in his seat, one hand on the wheel, the other already tugging down the zipper of his black racing suit, shifting his boxers enough to free himself. You caught a glimpse.. flushed, thick, already hard for you. Your our cheeks burned hotter.

"Hurry, angel," he urged, voice taut with adrenaline. His cock twitched a bit.

Heart hammering, you scrambled out of your seat and straddled his lap, your knees digging into the sleek leather seat on either side of him. Your short skirt bunched up instantly. No modesty left, not here, not now.

Seonghwa growled low in his throat as he slid his hands under the skirt, gripping your hips, rough and possessive. He found your panties, yanked them aside with a quick, practiced move, and paused, just for a second.

"I've got you, baby," he murmured against your lips.

You nodded desperately, clutching at his shoulders, nails biting into the fabric of his suit.

Another second passed, and then Seonghwa lined himself up, his hand firm on your waist.

The announcer started counting down:

"Ten."

Seonghwa thrust up just slightly, the tip brushing against you — so hot and achingly hard that you nearly cried out. “Hngh!-”

"Nine."

He grinned darkly at the way your body shivered, every nerve ending sparking.

"Eight."

You bit your lip so hard it almost bled.

"Seven."

Without warning, he pulled you down onto him — hard and deep.

You gasped, a choked sound bursting from your throat, your hands flying to his chest for balance.

Seonghwa groaned low in his chest, his forehead pressing against yours as he filled you completely, the stretch burning and perfect.

"Six."

He revved the engine, the growl of the car masking the broken sounds slipping from your lips.

"Five."

He shifted under you, adjusting his grip on the wheel — and then gave a slow, brutal roll of his hips that made your vision blur.

"Four."

Your hands fisted in the fabric of his suit, desperately clinging to him as you fought the urge to moan his name.

"Three."

He kissed you — messy, teeth clashing, claiming you all over again.

"Two."

The car vibrated harder, the tension unbearable.

"One."

The starting gun fired, and Seonghwa hit the gas. You were already riding him as the car shot forward, the world outside the tinted windows blurring into neon and smoke.

And deep inside the chaos, Seonghwa laughed low against your ear and whispered:

"Hold on tight, baby. We’re just getting started."

The tires screamed as Seonghwa floored the gas, and the car shot forward with brutal force.

You barely managed to choke down a gasp, the speed slamming your body harder against his chest. The harness that should've been holding you down was tangled around your thighs instead, abandoned in your reckless need to have him, to feel him, and every sharp lurch of the car made him shift deeper inside you.

Seonghwa didn’t flinch. One hand clamped firmly on the wheel, cool and in control — The other tight on your hip, grounding you, steering your body like he steered the car.

He didn’t look at you when he growled, voice low and dark:

"Bounce."

Your brain barely processed the word.

You were still dizzy from the feel of him stretching you open, still reeling from the way he'd filled you so deep, so fast. The world outside was a blur — engines roaring, neon lights whipping past — but inside this car, the heat between you could’ve set the whole track on fire.

You hesitated, thighs trembling on either side of him. "Seonghwa, I—"  Your voice cracked.

He squeezed your hip harder, almost bruising, dragging you flush down on him, making you whimper helplessly.

"I said bounce, love."

Rough. Commanding. Unforgiving.

You shivered because you loved that tone.  You loved it when he stripped you down to nothing but instinct.

With a shaky breath, you lifted yourself slowly — thighs burning, your hands clutching at the collar of his suit for leverage — and sank back down onto him.

The friction was blinding. The stretch, the depth, the filthy wet squelch of your body taking him in made heat crawl up your chest.

Seonghwa let out a low groan, head tilting back slightly.

"That's it…" he rasped. "Just like that. Fuck— ride me..  baby. Don't stop."

The car weaved through traffic effortlessly, one hand steering, one hand guiding you ruthlessly on his cock.

You started bouncing properly now — desperate little lifts and drops, every downward motion driving him deeper, harder, hitting spots that made your head spin.

"Fuck, Hwa—" you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. "I can't—" Your tits moved with you as you bounced. The man swore this was the hottest fucking sight hes ever seen. 

"You can," he grunted, eyes flashing dangerously as he flicked a glance at you. "You’re my good girl. You’ll take e- everything I give you."

You whimpered, helpless against the intensity in his voice.

Sweat beaded on your forehead, your skin slick against his. The tiny cami you wore clung to your chest, nipples hard and rubbing against the thin fabric, the sensation making you squirm even harder.

“A- ah.. S’deep S- seong..”

Every bounce sent shockwaves through your body — thighs burning, clit throbbing, overstimulated from the roughness and the speed.

The car jerked slightly as Seonghwa pulled a sharp turn, and you cried out, falling forward against him, your forehead pressing against the sweaty line of his throat.

He laughed — low and wicked — and shifted the hand on your hip lower, slipping between your bodies until his fingers found your clit.

He rubbed tight, brutal circles, making you jolt and sob.

"T- that’s it, baby," he growled, voice in a strained pant now. "Make a mess on me."

Your body was a disaster — shaking, leaking, clenching around him desperately with every roll of his hips. You barely realized how hard you were grinding on him now, chasing your release with raw, frantic little bounces that made filthy wet sounds between you every time he bottomed out inside you.

"You hear that?" he whispered in your ear, voice wrecked. "That's you, fucking dripping all over me. Fuckin’ slut.."

You whined brokenly — it was too much. “A- all yours!” You threw your head back, one of your hands gripping your boyfriend's shoulder, the other pinching your hardened nipple.

You were so full, so fucked-out, and it only got worse when Seonghwa slipped two fingers down lower — teasing your stretched entrance while still fucking into you deep.

"Seonghwa—" you choked.

He just laughed darkly again, pulling his fingers back and spreading the wetness up across your clit again, rubbing you even faster, even harder.

He took your other breast in your mouth, sucking harshly like a goddamn baby desperate for its mommys milk. You let out a mewl.

The car shot forward again — faster now — and you realized he wasn’t slowing down at all. 

He was going to win this race while buried inside you. While fucking you raw in front of everyone.

The thought made you tighten around him so hard he cursed under his breath, hips jerking up into you violently.

He let go of your nipple with a pop sound. Spit connecting from his lip to your red bud. "Shit, baby— g- gonna make me cum inside you if you keep doing that," he snarled, voice wrecked.

You moaned helplessly, nodding against him, needing it, needing him. Your thighs trembled violently now, every nerve in your body firing off at once.

Seonghwa leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear:

"C- cum for me again. Now."

The command broke you.

You shuddered around him with a sob, your body locking up, nails raking down his back as your orgasm slammed into you like a punch to the gut.

Seonghwa hissed through his teeth, feeling you milk his cock, squeezing so tight he almost lost it right then.

“H- hngh- Hwa!”

He shifted the car one-handed — cool as ice — and slammed his hips up into you harder, rougher, chasing his own finish line.

"Fuck— fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, his voice getting sloppier now, the control finally cracking.

You whimpered at how deep he was, how thick he felt inside you, how messy you were getting — your inner thighs sticky, his cock slick with both your releases mixing with every brutal thrust.

He grabbed your ass with both hands now, bouncing you on him harder, almost savage, using you to get himself off while the car screamed across the track.

"Take it," he growled. "Fucking take it."

You cried out, legs barely working, body collapsing into him fully, trusting him to do whatever he wanted with you.

He was close — you could feel it. “Sh– shit.. So t– tight.”

The way his breath hitched. The way his hips stuttered up into you. The way his fingers dug even harder into your thighs, bruising, desperate.

"Mine," he hissed, head dropping to your shoulder. "You’re mine. Gonna fill you up — fuck, gonna make you so messy."

You nodded frantically, moaning into his neck, needing it, needing him to ruin you completely.

With one last brutal thrust up into you, Seonghwa growled brokenly and came — deep, thick, filling you so much you gasped, feeling it leak out around him instantly.

He didn't stop.

He fucked you through it, dragging you down on him again and again, stuffing his cum deeper inside you, not caring about the wet, filthy mess soaking into the leather seat. His hand went back on the steering wheel.

Outside the windows, the checkered flag waved.

Seonghwa let out a shaky, wrecked laugh, his arms still locked around you tightly.

"First place, baby," he whispered against your sweaty neck. "You helped me win."

You could barely breathe.

You were trembling, your muscles spasming, your pussy still fluttering around his softening cock buried deep inside you.

The car coasted into the winner’s circle — And you were still in his lap, stuffed full, a sticky, wrecked mess against him.

Seonghwa pressed a kiss to your temple, so soft compared to the wreckage of your bodies.

"You okay?" he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your damp face.

You nodded weakly, smiling a little, dizzy with aftershocks.

He chuckled again, that low, dangerous sound.

"Good," he said, sliding his hand down to cup between your thighs — feeling the mess he made, feeling you shudder against him.

"Because when we get home…" he murmured darkly,

"I’m not stopping until you’re crying my name."

The crowd’s roar still echoed faintly outside the garage as Seonghwa pulled the pink race car into his designated spot.

You both sat there for a second, catching your breath — the engine ticking hot beneath you, the windows fogged slightly from the heat between your bodies.

Seonghwa gave a low, satisfied chuckle under his breath.

"Fans sound happy," he murmured, reaching across the seat to grab a bundle of towels from the glove box — clearly prepared for chaos like this. You flushed hot, face burning as he tugged your ruined panties back into place and carefully wiped the mess between your trembling thighs. His touch was oddly tender, almost reverent, like he was proud of the disaster he'd made out of you.

"Little messy, baby," he teased, smirking as he swiped the towel over his own lap, tucking himself back into his racing suit without shame. He balled up the towel — now clearly stained with streaks of white — and tossed it casually into the backseat.

You stared at it, mortified.

"Hwa—" you hissed, cheeks flaming. "You can't just—"

He grinned wider, unbothered. "The mechanics'll clean it. They won't care." He reached over, flicking your forehead playfully. "Besides... kinda like knowing my mess is all over this car."

You hid your face in your hands, groaning, and he just laughed again — low, rough, still riding the high of the win and the wickedness.

Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep, dusky purples and blues. The stadium lights cast long shadows across the garage as Seonghwa climbed out of the car, moving around to your side.

You opened the door yourself — or tried to — but your legs buckled immediately, still weak from how hard he'd used you.

Seonghwa caught you easily, one arm hooking under your knees, the other steadying your back.

"Still wobbly, angel?" he teased, voice low near your ear.

You buried your face in his shoulder, too embarrassed to answer.

With no effort at all, he lifted you up into his arms and carried you across the lot toward his other car — a sleek black one parked a little ways off.

He set you carefully into the passenger seat, brushing a kiss across your forehead, then your mouth, soft and grounding.

"I'll be right back," he promised. "Don’t move."

You nodded dumbly, heart thudding as you watched him jog back across the lot toward his pit crew.

The fans were still screaming his name beyond the fence. Seonghwa raised a hand, casually waving at them — that cocky, dangerous smirk still tugging at his mouth.

You could see his crew gathering around, clapping him on the back, handing him a heavy silver trophy.

One of the mechanics — a young guy with grease on his sleeves — caught sight of the towel Seonghwa had tossed into the racecar.

He burst out laughing, nudging one of the others and whispering something that made them all snicker.

Seonghwa just laughed along, completely shameless, grabbing the trophy and slinging it over one shoulder like it weighed nothing.

But then A different figure broke away from the shadows near the loading docks.

Minjun.

And he wasn’t alone.. a few of his cronies trailing behind him like a pack of hyenas.

Seonghwa stiffened when he spotted them, but didn’t break stride, just kept walking toward you.

Until Minjun stepped directly into his path.

"Congrats on the win, Park," Minjun drawled, fake-friendly.

Seonghwa didn't answer. His jaw flexed once — dangerously — but he kept walking, eyes locked on you, waiting patiently in the car.

Minjun fell into step beside him, chuckling darkly.

"Tell me," he murmured under his breath, voice dripping with venom. "Did you have little Y/N riding you while you raced?"

Seonghwa stopped dead in his tracks.

Slowly, he turned to face Minjun fully — body language pure, lethal, calm.

Without a word, he slammed his fist into Minjun’s jaw — a brutal, savage hit that dropped him to the concrete with a satisfying crack.

The crew scattered instantly, a few of them cursing and backing away, clearly wanting no part in it.

Minjun groaned, spitting blood onto the ground.

Seonghwa crouched low, grabbing the front of his jacket and hauling him up to eye level.

Voice low, razor-sharp, he whispered:

"Next time you say her name with that mouth, I'll break your jaw so bad you’ll be sipping through a straw for the rest of your fucking life."

Minjun gurgled something unintelligible, his hands scrambling to push Seonghwa off.

Seonghwa shoved him back down hard, standing tall and dangerous as Minjun's crew scrambled to pull him away.

"Come back, you cowards!" Minjun bellowed as his lackeys bolted toward the lot exit, leaving him cursing and bleeding alone.

Seonghwa didn’t even spare him another glance.

He just turned on his heel, wiped the blood from his knuckles on his jacket, and headed back toward you.

When he slid into the driver’s seat beside you, he was breathing hard — chest rising and falling under the open collar of his jacket.

You blinked, taking in the sweat, the new streak of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"...Hwa," you sighed, exasperated, spotting the crimson stain smudged across the sleeve of his jacket.

He followed your gaze, then just smirked — that same devil-may-care grin he always wore after he wrecked someone for you.

"You should see the other guy," he said casually, buckling his seatbelt with a little grunt of effort.

You rolled your eyes hard, but your heart twisted painfully in your chest — because under all that reckless bravado, you knew why he did it. Why he always did it.

Seonghwa turned the ignition, the engine of the black car purring to life, and threw an arm casually over the back of your seat, looking both ways before pulling out.

"You know," he said after a beat, glancing over at you with a crooked grin, "one day you're gonna realize... I'd tear down the whole goddamn world if it meant keeping you safe."

The night swallowed you both whole as he drove you away — the city lights blurring past, the blood on his hands cooling — But the fire between you never fades.

[rafecameronssl4t]

You Broke Me First || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @rafeyscurtainbangs

Summary: You didn’t expect Rafe to push you aside so easily for Sofia, but it wasn’t shocking when he called you from Morocco, confessing that she had betrayed him in the worst way.

Warnings: angst angst angst (haven't written this much angst in a hot minute) Sofia slander mb, reader ate in this one if I do say so myself 😝😝

Word count: 3,378

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

Rafe exhales sharply, tossing his cap onto the polished table with a frustrated thud. He rakes a hand through his buzzed hair, his expression caught between exasperation and regret. "C'mon, baby, don’t be like that," he pleads, his tone softer than the storm brewing between the two of you. But his attempt at pacifying you only stokes the fire raging in your chest.

You remain unmoved, your gaze fixed on the pristine, manicured lawn of the country club, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as though you’re physically holding your anger in check. The vibrant chatter of nearby patrons fades into the background, the sound nothing more than white noise to the tension crackling between you. "Like what?" you snap, voice cold and sharp, refusing to look at him.

"Like you're fucking insecure!" Rafe bites back, his words slicing through the air without thought or care. Your head whips toward him, eyes narrowing in fury. "You did not just say that to me," you seethe, the disbelief quickly morphing into a sharp-edged anger that spreads like wildfire. Rafe stares at you, jaw tight, offering no apology, no acknowledgment of the weight of what he just said.

It only fuels your rage. "You think this is about me being insecure?" you spit, stepping closer to him, your voice rising. "You let her hang all over you, Rafe. Laughing, flirting, and touching you. And you just stood there, eating it up like a goddamn idiot while I was standing right there. Right fucking there. Do you even realise how disrespectful that was?" Your words hit like rapid-fire bullets, but Rafe just shakes his head, his silence infuriating you further.

"You couldn’t even pretend to give a shit about me," you continue, your voice sharp enough to cut. "Not a glance, not a word, nothing. You just let her make a fool out of me. Do you even care how that made me look? How it made me feel?" "It wasn’t like that," Rafe mutters finally, his tone dismissive as he runs a hand through his hair again, avoiding your eyes. "Oh, fuck off," you snap, venom dripping from every syllable.

"Don’t you dare try to gaslight me, Rafe. I saw exactly what it was like. She was all over you, and you let it happen. You didn’t even have the decency to act like I was there." Your voice is rising now, no longer caring who might overhear. "You want to talk about insecurity? How about the fact that you can’t say no to someone feeding your fucking ego? God forbid you turn her down, because then what? You don’t get to be the centre of attention for five goddamn minutes?"

Rafe flinches at your words, his posture stiffening, but you’re too far gone to stop. "You’re pathetic," you hiss, stepping even closer, forcing him to look at you. "You love it, don’t you? The attention, the admiration—so much that you don’t even care what it costs me. You don’t care that it makes me look like a joke. That it makes me feel like a fucking idiot for standing by your side." "That’s not fair," Rafe says quietly, his tone defensive, but his voice is barely audible over your anger.

"Fair?" you bark out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Do you even know what that word means, Rafe? Fair is treating the person you claim to care about with an ounce of respect. Fair is not making me feel like I’m in this relationship alone while you let random girls flirt with you because it strokes your goddamn ego." Your breathing is heavy now, your chest heaving as you glare at him, your anger a living, breathing thing that refuses to be contained.

For a moment, you think Rafe might say something—anything—to defend himself, to fix this. His lips part as if words are on the tip of his tongue, but he hesitates. Instead, he just stares at you, his jaw tight, his lips pressed into a thin line, the weight of his silence hanging heavy in the air. His refusal to fight for you—to fight with you—burns hotter than anything he could have said.

"Unbelievable," you mutter, your voice dripping with bitter disbelief as you turn on your heel. You pause just long enough to deliver one final blow, the venom in your words leaving no room for ambiguity. "You know what, Rafe? When that Pogue turns on you, don’t you dare come crawling back to me. You made your choice." You don't wait for his response—if he even has one.

Your heels click sharply against the floor as you walk away, your back to him, shoulders squared. The lump in your throat threatens to choke you, but you swallow it down, your anger your shield against the pain threatening to bubble up. Behind you, Rafe doesn’t call out. He doesn’t follow. The soft scrape of his chair shifting against the floor is the only sound he makes, and it sends a pang of hurt slicing through your chest.

You don’t look back. You can’t. You leave him standing there, his cap still sitting on the table, the perfect picture of a man who’s just realised how deeply he’s fucked up. The realisation is written all over his face, but it’s too little, too late.

~

"Hello?" you answer, pressing the phone to your ear. The line crackles with a brief silence, heavy and tense, before you hear a voice—his voice. "She fucked me over," Rafe spits out, his words sharp and laced with anger. "She screwed with me and my fucking money." Your eyes widen, and instinctively, you sink into the nearest seat, your mind racing to process the flood of emotions his sudden call evokes.

His tone is frantic, his words tumbling out in a bitter, unrelenting rant. "What?" you manage, your voice tight with confusion. "What are you talking about, Rafe?" He exhales harshly, the sound of frustration practically vibrating through the receiver. "Sofia," he growls, the name dripping with venom. His words come fast, tumbling over each other in a frantic, furious rant.

"She—she knew. The whole time. She knew exactly what was happening to my money and just watched it happen. Worse, she didn't do a damn ting to stop it because she was a part of it." Your stomach twists as his words paint a picture of betrayal deeper than you’d imagined. "What the hell are you talking about?" you ask, your voice sharper now, though confusion still clouds your tone.

"She was involved," he says bitterly. "The deal—the fucking deal that cost me everything. She kept her mouth shut, let me take the hit, and now I’m the one left to clean up the mess. And the whole time, she stood there smiling, acting like she gave a damn about me." You exhale slowly, trying to process the weight of what he’s saying.

There’s an anger rising in you—not for Sofia, but for Rafe’s blind trust and his reckless decisions. "And what, you just figured this out now?" "No," he admits, his voice dropping to something almost pained. "I knew something was off for weeks. But I didn’t want to believe it. I fucking proposed to her, for God’s sake. Thought if I just… held on tighter, I could fix things. Fix us."

You freeze, the confession hitting you like a sucker punch. "You proposed?" "Yeah," he spits, the word dripping with self-loathing. "And you know what she did? She cried. Not because she was happy. Not because she loved me. Because she felt guilty." He laughs bitterly, the sound hollow and cold. "She couldn’t even bring herself to tell me the truth while I was down on one fucking knee."

For a moment, the line goes quiet, his words hanging heavy in the air between you. "You know, Rafe," you finally say, your voice steady but edged with anger, "this is what happens when you put your trust in someone who’s only looking out for themselves." He exhales sharply, the sound of his frustration practically vibrating through the phone. "I get it," he snaps. "I should’ve listened to you. You warned me, and I didn’t care. I thought I knew better."

"You thought you were untouchable," you counter, your words hitting him like a slap. "And now you���re calling me? For what? To say I told you so?" "No," he says, softer now, almost broken. "I don’t know why I called. Maybe because you were the only one who actually gave a damn about me. Or maybe because I needed someone to hear it—someone who’d understand what it’s like to be completely fucked over by someone you trusted."

You close your eyes, the ache in his voice tugging at something deep inside you. But you push it aside, unwilling to let his pain pull you back in. "This doesn’t change anything, Rafe," you say firmly. "You made your choices. You can’t just run to me every time they blow up in your face." "I know," he murmurs, the defeat in his tone cutting deeper than his anger ever could. "I just… I didn’t know who else to call." You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, feeling the weight of Rafe’s words sink in.

“Where are you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to make sense of everything. “Morocco,” he says, the word hanging in the air like a punch. Your heart stutters, and your eyes widen as you try to process his response. “What?” you ask, unable to keep the disbelief out of your voice. “With who?” "Sarah and her friends. Look, it’s... a long story, alright?" You scoff, shaking your head. The frustration that had been simmering inside you spills over, and you can’t keep the bitterness out of your voice.

“Yeah, I can fucking imagine. Jesus, Rafe. What have you gotten yourself into this time?” You feel your hands balling into fists, the anger bubbling up again. How did he always manage to get himself tangled in these messes? There’s a pause on the other end, the kind of silence that feels heavy with regret. Rafe’s voice comes through, softer, almost pleading. “Can you do me a favour? Please?” You hesitate, trying to weigh your options. After everything that’s happened, you weren’t sure you wanted to do him any more favours, but you couldn’t ignore the desperation in his tone.

“Depends,” you reply, keeping your guard up, knowing full well that Rafe’s requests often led to more complications than they were worth. He sighs heavily, as if the weight of what he’s about to ask is too much. “Can you go to my house and check if she’s still there?” You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts. “What’s she doing in your house?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, your suspicion rising like an unsettling tide. There’s a beat of hesitation before Rafe’s voice cracks slightly.

“I... I asked her to move in with me,” he admits, the rawness of his confession making the words sting like salt on a wound. You feel a cold laugh escape you before you can stop it. “Yeah, of course you did,” you mutter, your teeth clenching as the bitterness grows. The thought of Sofia, the same woman who had betrayed him, now living in his house—it doesn’t sit right with you. It feels like a betrayal in itself, a reminder of everything Rafe never learned. “Please, Y/n,” Rafe’s voice cuts through the tension, quieter now, softer, and the pleading tone in his words makes your chest tighten.

“I just need to know if she’s still there. I can’t trust anything right now, and I don’t know who else to ask.” You lean back against the wall, your eyes closing for a moment as you let out a long, frustrated sigh. You knew it was going to be something like this. You knew Rafe’s charm and his impulsiveness would lead him straight into another mess, but this? This felt like too much. “Fine,” you say, finally, the weight of his request heavy in your chest. “I’ll go. But you owe me one, Rafe.”

~

Pulling up to the house you were once so familiar with, you let out a deep sigh. The place looks the same, but it feels different—distant. Your hand tightens on the steering wheel for a moment before you shift into park. You take a breath and step out of the car, walking up the front stairs with a heavy sense of purpose. When you test the front door, your suspicion proves right—it’s unlocked. Slowly, you push it open, the creak of the hinges breaking the silence inside. The house feels empty, eerily quiet.

You move further in, your footsteps echoing off the hardwood floors, until a voice stops you dead in your tracks. "Rafe? Is that you?" The shakiness in her tone is unmistakable, and it irks you more than you care to admit. You scoff under your breath and follow the sound of her voice to the living room. There she is—Sofia, looking nothing like the confident, composed woman she used to be. The moment she sees you, her eyes widen in shock, and she quickly stands, hastily wiping her tears from her cheeks.

"What are you doing here?" she says, her voice a mix of disbelief and unease. You can’t hide the bitterness that creeps into your words as you respond. "Trust me, I do not want to be here," you roll your eyes, moving to sit on the single armchair across from her, the space between you two feeling as vast as the gulf that’s grown between your lives. "Why are you here, Y/n?" Her voice shakes, but you can see the cracks in her façade. She’s barely holding it together.

You lean back in the chair, crossing your arms. "I could ask the same of you. Rafe wanted you out of here." Her throat tightens, and she swallows hard, trying to maintain some control. "I'm not leaving until I talk to him again," she argues, but her resolve feels weak, as if she knows deep down that this battle is already lost. You scoff, your patience wearing thin. "Yeah, good luck with that, sweetheart. You're dead to him," you say flatly, watching as the color drains from Sofia’s face.

The fear in her eyes is almost satisfying. She’s starting to realise the weight of the mess she’s made. "I-I..." She stammers, her eyes darting around, desperately searching for an escape that isn’t coming. You lean forward slightly, letting the silence linger just long enough before you speak again, your voice cold, steady. "You know what Rafe can’t stand more than anything, Sof?" you begin, watching as she flinches at the mention of his name. "Backstabbers."

The word hangs between you, thick with meaning, and you can see the realisation slowly settle in her. There’s no turning back now. Sofia's eyes dart nervously, avoiding yours as if she’s trying to escape the gravity of your words. She opens her mouth to speak but stops herself, as though the words are caught in her throat. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, wiping her eyes again, but this time the tears don’t come.

Instead, there's just this raw vulnerability, something she rarely ever lets slip. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this," she finally mutters, her voice a broken whisper. "You don’t understand. I—" "Save it," you cut her off, your tone colder than you expected. "I’m not here for your excuses, Sofia. Whatever sob story you’ve cooked up, I don’t care. The damage is done. Rafe trusted you. He would’ve given you the world if you asked for it. And you—" You stop, swallowing the heat building in your chest.

"You took everything from him, didn’t even think twice about it." Sofia trembles, her gaze flickering to the floor as she struggles to hold back the overwhelming guilt threatening to spill out. "I didn’t want this to happen. I swear I didn’t," she whispers, her voice uneven. "I was hurt. By what he said, by the way he treated me. I—I was just trying to keep things from falling apart, and it got too messy. I couldn’t back out."

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. "Oh, so that’s it? You were hurt, so you decided to screw him over? That’s your excuse?" Her lip quivers, and for a moment, you think she might break, but then her voice rises, desperate. "It wasn’t like that!" she insists. "You don’t get it. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I thought maybe if I just went along with it, I could fix things—" "Fix things?" you snap, standing abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.

"By lying to him? By betraying him? That’s what you call fixing things?" You scoff again, crossing your arms. "You didn’t care about fixing anything. You cared about yourself. You wanted to stay comfortable, no matter what it cost him." She stands too, her posture stiff, her shoulders drawn tight. "I was scared," she says, her voice trembling. "I didn’t know what to do. I thought if I stayed quiet, I could keep it together. I didn’t want to hurt him, I swear—"

You cut her off with a wave of your hand, the irritation bubbling to the surface. "Stop acting like I care, Sofia," you say flatly, your words slicing through the tension. "You think I’m here defending him? After what he put me through?” You let out a humorless laugh. "I couldn’t care less about Rafe. But you—" You step closer, your eyes narrowing.

"You think you’re special, don’t you? You think you can walk in here, cry a few tears, and fix everything? And the worst part is, you don’t even realise it." Her mouth falls open slightly, her expression faltering as she processes your words. She looks at you like she’s seeing someone else, someone she doesn’t recognise, and for a fleeting moment, you almost feel bad. Almost.

"You broke him, Sofia," you say, your voice dropping into a harsh whisper. "And now you’re standing here, trying to paint yourself as the victim. It’s disgusting." The silence that follows is deafening, a void neither of you can fill. Sofia doesn’t respond. She doesn’t move. She just stands there, her shoulders slumped, her eyes glossy but dry. For once, she has nothing left to say. "Get out," you say finally, your voice calm but firm, the weight of your words unmistakable. "You’ve done enough damage."

Sofia's lip quivers as she stands there for a moment, motionless, her breath hitching as if she wants to argue but can’t find the words. Instead, she presses her trembling lips together and nods faintly, her head hanging low. Without another word, she brushes past you, her footsteps hesitant but quickening as she heads for the door. The sound of her leaving echoes through the house—the shuffle of her shoes on the floor, the creak of the door as it opens, and the final, resounding click as it closes behind her.

For a few moments, you remain where you are, letting the silence settle over the space. The air feels heavier now, and your chest tightens with a mixture of lingering anger and exhaustion. You reach into your pocket, pulling out your phone with a deliberate slowness. Your thumb hovers over Rafe’s name in your contacts for a second longer than it should, but you shake off the hesitation and press the call button. The line rings twice before he picks up.

"What?" His voice is sharp, irritated, like he wasn’t expecting you to call—or wasn’t in the mood to deal with you if you did. "It’s done," you say simply, your tone devoid of emotion. "She’s gone. You won’t have to deal with her anymore." There’s a pause on the other end, long enough for you to hear him exhale. "Good," he mutters, his voice clipped. You don’t respond right away, letting his words hang in the air.

When you do speak, your voice is distant, detached. "Don’t call me again, Rafe. Whatever this was—whatever you needed—it’s over." "What’s that supposed to mean?" he snaps, the irritation in his voice sharpening into something defensive. "It means I’m done," you say firmly, your grip on the phone tightening. "Don’t drag me into your mess again. Clean up your own life next time." "Y/n—" You don’t wait for him to finish.

You end the call and toss your phone onto the couch, the finality of it settling over you like a weight. For a moment, you stand there, staring at the empty room, the silence pressing down on you. It’s done. Whatever mess Rafe and Sofia had created, you’d played your part in untangling it. But as you look around the house, you realise you feel no sense of victory, no relief. Just a hollow emptiness, as if something in you has finally burned out.

Without another glance, you grab your bag and head for the door. You don’t need to stay here any longer. You’ve said everything you needed to say, done everything you needed to do. And as you step outside into the fresh air, you make a silent promise to yourself: you’re walking away from this for good.

[tojirights]

bro i’m going absolutely INSANE over alastor 😻😻

so, how about when lucifer comes by the hotel, he subtly flirts w alastors girl. alastor is on the verge of going apeshit and almost leaves charlie fatherless.

instead of murdering anyone, he decides to take his frustrations out on his darling, leaving bite marks and hickies on spots just visible enough for lucifer to notice next time he comes by..

a/n: im OBSESSED 😍😍

alastor immediately recognized lucifer as competition on multiple fronts. obviously, the king of hell was a threat in terms of power level, and alastor hated that. but alastor also quickly hated how charming the devil was.

upon meeting you, lucifer takes your hand and bows, placing a kiss on your hand as well. alastor's eye twitches, watching someone else put their dirty little hands and mouth on what is his. "my, what a pleasure. you're helping charlie? that's lovely! means i'll get to be seeing you around more, huh? she didn't mention such a pretty little thing was her hotel manager." lucifer speaks to you, a cool smirk on his face. he's clearly interested in you, and while alastor can't blame the man, he's seething with rage. clearing his throat, alastor takes a step towards you and reaches a hand out to lucifer in an attempt to shift his attention.

"alastor." he speaks, barely containing the anger in his voice. "it truly is an honor to be meeting you, sir." you raise a brow at the tense interaction going on in front of you but pay it no mind. lucifer gives alastor a tight lipped smile and shakes his hand. "ah, you as well. charlie has talked about you." you notice the way alastor glares at lucifer, yet keeps a smile on his face the entire time. lucifer turns back to you, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back. "now how's about a tour, hm?" he leans into your ear to whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

behind you, alastor's horns grow and eyes redden, ready to risk it all in a fight with the devil and take out this whole god damned hotel if it meant lucifer never touched you again. "o-oh um, that's typically done by-" you start, but suddenly, charlie is running down the stairs with a panicked look on her face.

"heeyy dad! let's go this way, towards your room! it's late, you should rest." her smile is clearly fake, and you see her eyes dart from you to alastor and back to you. luckily, alastor reeled in his rage when the princess showed up and was back to his normal self on the surface. you can feel the energy coming from your partner, malicious intent painted all over his aura and you gulp. "al, c'mon... charlie's right."

alastor doesn't speak, but he follows you to your room for the night. the door is barely shut before alastor is lifting your legs and tossing you onto the bed. "care to explain why the fuck that little slimy king of hell was all over you?" he doesn't give you another moment to process before he's tugging your shirt over your head. "it's just harmless, al. you know i don't want anyone but you." you assure him, but alastor's teeth find your neck.

"i may trust you, darling, but i do not trust lucifer." his voice has a low growl to it that ignites your core. "but-" you gasp when alastor's mouth closes on the skin behind your ear, nipping it with sharp teeth. "no, because he and everyone in this place will know who you belong to." you shudder underneath of him, slight tinges of pain shooting down your spine at every nip and pull of your skin. alastor moves down your neck, leaving a trail of angry red and purple spots in his wake.

his tongue circles every bruise in an attempt to soothe your inflamed skin, but the marks just darken by the second. you hands dive into his hair, holding onto the silky strands. you feel alastor's body shudder as you circle the tufts of hair by his ears, making him press his hips to yours. "everyone in hell, my dear, is going to know that you're mine. not a single soul will ever try to touch you again." his breathing hitches, grinding his quickly hardening cock against your leg. you whimper when his teeth latch onto your collarbone, sucking hard and adding another welt to your skin.

"i want him to hear you." he hisses as he tugs your pants down over your ankles. its hasty, the way alastor frees his cock and pushes into your pussy, but you were more than ready for the intrusion. you cry out, suddenly being so, so full and alastor groans. "yes darling, just like that." your legs wrap around his waist, forcing every thrust just a little further until he's pounding at your cervix.

"d-don't stop sir." you gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head while alastor's mouth latches onto the other side of your neck this time. "who do you being to?" he asks, hot breath fanning your skin. "y-you, alastor!" you whine, flexing your hips up to his in an attempt to build friction. "please, make me cum. only you feel so good." alastor peppers you in soft kisses now, ever grateful that you're willing to entertain the idea of letting lucifer know just who makes you feel like this.

alastor sneaks a hand between your bodies to rub skillful circles around your clit until your legs start shaking. "good, good girl. scream for me." he smirks when your tone shifts and he can tell by how tight you squeeze around his cock. "a-alastor fuck!" your body spasms, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you cum. alastor's orgasm follows shortly after, his teeth finding your skin once more as he spills deep inside of your pussy.

you have a brief moment of embarrassment when you think about just how loud you just were, your hand flying up to your mouth. alastor just laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead. "don't panic, my sweet. i think this little display will prove quite effective in keeping lucifers grubby little hands off of you." alastor pulls out slowly and carries you to a nice warm shower before tucking you in for the night.

---

"jesus christ, did you get into a fuckin' fight with a bear?" angel laughs when you walk into the kitchen the next morning. you were covered in hickeys all the way down your neck, and you were barely walking straight. lucifer refuses to make eye contact with you, especially after alastor walks into the room shortly after. "good morning everyone!" alastor chirps, smirking at lucifer who rolls his eyes and sips his coffee.

"well, there's the bear..." husk mutters, earning a cackle from angel.