Racing Au - Tumblr Posts

Overdrive!Mackenyu was something else.

Runaway ~ Chapter 1 ~

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Synopsis: There's no place for women in the world of racing. Let alone rally. Until you show up - the daughter of a racing legend who lost everything out of nowhere - ready to stir the pot of competition and throw fuel to Naozumi's fire, burning wild in more than just one way. Just how far will you go to take your rightful place in the world of rally, restore the team to its glory and change things for the better?

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, dating in secret

Word count: 4.5k+

A/N: Here it finally is. I can't believe I got to write about one of my passions in this way. Though I love rally, getting the technicalities right was rough but I researched as much as I could on it so it feels like the real thing, though there might be some minor inaccuracies, not really affecting the story.

This one has been in the works for a good period of time and though this first chapter is short and fast-paced, there's so much more coming. Trust the process cause god knows I do. I hope I can make Naozumi justice and I can't wait for you to read the next ones. Enjoy lovelies.

Now Playing: Edge of Seventeen - Wuki

It's not about how fast you go.

It's about how long you go fast.

Fast like-

A knock reverberated against your helmet, interrupting the pre-race mantra before you even finished reciting it, bringing you back to the chaos prior to the race start.

Chaos you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Blinking your eyes open, you took in the smell of burnt rubber and the atmosphere, fully packed with the deafening roars of the crowds in the stands soaring over the music heard all the way to your station. Another voice joined in the noise, demanding your attention.

"Raiko, are you ready?"

Letting out an exasperated breath, you waved off whoever spoke to you and closed your eyes again.

"Give me a minute, will you?"

Okay, where was I?

It's not about how fast you go-

A drilling noise came from your right, annoying the living daylights out of you.

Ah, fuck it. Since we keep getting interrupted...

How about I tell you a little bit about me.

Name's Raiko Suruki.

Yes, that Suruki. Here we go again.

I'm the daughter of the famed Hiro Suruki, five times Japan World Rally Championship winner, consecutively if I may add, proud podium sitter for thousands of times, also kind of a living legend of the primetime of the rally world. The same Hiro Suruki that started one of the best teams in the history of Japanese rally, snatching six more titles under his directory. WRC'S Golden Boy.

After his personal fifth title, he decided he wanted something more. Something that would fulfill him, beside his love for driving at the most insane speeds known to man and having his first and only child - that's me in case you didn't know.

Anyway, without any second thoughts he retired from the sport out of nowhere, changing the fireproofs for the laid-back team principal shirt and a cheap very 'dad' baseball cap. At barely 35 years of age, he took the biggest leap of faith and Suruki Racing was born out of fuel and passion for rally.

He poured everything he had into the team and built it from scratch, taking it so high in his prime that everyone wanted a piece of it, be it driving in a seat for the team, changing parts as a mechanic or simply having shares in it.

It was basically the shit. The pinnacle of the rally series in Japan.

The team became a national sensation. So many influential people, from mere businessmen to politicians, even foreigners were so interested in it and helping it expand. It genuinely felt like the only way for him was up, flying like a rocket towards the legends' hall of fame.

It went like that for a while. He was beaming with happiness, unable to understand where all that luck came from. But like everything good, once he started to question it all, it was like a switch flipped inwards.

And everything started going wrong.

All of a sudden the cars started missing parts the night before races. They had engine failures mid-race in almost every stage, followed by dnf's on every scoreboard. And those aren't even the most shocking things that happened. You name the disaster and it definitely happened to Suruki Racing at one point.

The mess piled up more and more and it showed.

Contract deals with sponsors started falling through, losing funding for a lot of parts and investments in equipment. Then the drivers got fed up with the constant failed races and blamed the car or the team if they felt like it. They terminated their contracts way before their terms were up under the pretense that they wanted different things... which were not related to Suruki Racing. The mechanics chose to stay, well, a few of them anyways, but it wasn't enough.

The team ripped at the seams and slowly but surely ran into the ground and dad couldn't find at least one reason why it happened.

It was like a curse you couldn't get rid of and I saw it happen first-hand.

The late nights he would spend in the garage trying new parts that kept failing with every test on the car. The way he would go as low as begging the drivers to come back offering them money he didn't have because no driver, rookie or experienced, didn't even bat an eye once the name of the team was mentioned.

Lost, penniless and with a heavy heart, he had to watch the one thing he loved the most on earth rust little by little, no matter what he would do to prevent it.

Mom called it karma for his reckless racing days because as talented as he was, the road forgives no one. That you can be God's favourite and still lose everything. And he didn't want to understand that. He never did.

I was too young to help back then. Too young to understand what Suruki Racing meant to him. Too young to do the only thing I could to save it.

Until now.

So, let's try that again, shall we?

Name's Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing 2.0.

Another knock to your helmet, echoing in your head louder than the first, brought you back to the real world for good this time. Mechanics rushed around you to finish the set up on the car before you were called up to take your spot in front of the race marshal, which from a quick glance at the scoreboard would be soon.

Looking to your left, you were met with a set of dull brown eyes, messy jet black hair, a funky moustache and an extremely creased forehead for his middle age, all belonging to your co-driver, Don Tanaka. He's another legend of the sport.

Former training coach for some of the current biggest teams in the WRC, with a CV of experiences surpassing most people that have been in rally for longer. On top of all that, he is an even bigger friend of your father's. When he called him up asking for an old favour to train you, he couldn't say no.

But if it was up to commenting, you'd say he was one of the biggest fools for giving up a lavish salary with so many perks for one favour, especially for your old fart of a father.

Driving with him was great, but training with him was hell on Earth.

"I was doing my mantra," you reasoned, trying to get him off your case.

"Your mantra sucks."

He is an absolute joy to be around, isn't he?

"Well," you turned to him in your seat with a tight-lipped smile, "you're the one choosing to be co-driver to a young adult at your ripe age of 40. If I was you I would've picked something more calming, like gardening."

Bringing his hand to his chin in thinking, he sat in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"That doesn't sound so bad right now," he went on trying to push your buttons.

"Oh, shush," you waved him off, turning back to the wheel.

If there was one thing he liked doing, it was keeping you in check by poking fun at you. He was like that one uncle you could always go to with your secrets or to ask for extra pocket money, but in return he liked to tease the fuck out of you for it. Every. Single. Time.

As much as you hated his antics, you did kind of owe him a lot. He was the one who caught your talent for racing early on, back when you would drive plastic mini cars made from scraps around the team garage like you had years of experience. A few drifting maneuvers around old tires done like a pro at the cool age of 8, and he was sold on you and your potential.

Amongst all the teasing and the pain of having to train like a man, you've spent enough time with him to know you could count on him for literally anything. He was the best co-driver you could ask for and you wouldn't want anyone else in that seat directing your fate for the world.

He knew what it took to annoy you greatly in order to deliver on the dirt track and prove yourself. Especially now, since you were the only woman on highly occupied male territory.

Racing was a man's world.

With as many female advancements in motorsport as there were today, the majority of the community was still not convinced that a woman could drive better than a man or even compete alongside a whole grid of their species. They can regard you, acknowledge your existence, but they would never accept you.

Your father knew your entry to the championship would stir up a lot of unwanted attention, besides the fact that he was basically reviving a cursed team and you happened to be the poster face for it this time around. It sounded like a catastrophe in the making.

Frankly, you were ecstatic to get to drive an actual race car outside of the junior series and helping the team get back to its rightful place, restoring its deserved glory. But you knew it wasn't going to be easy work. Especially, since public enemy number one - the press - was going to try and tear you to sparkly shreds for a lot of reasons. An attack that they started before any official information was out.

A few months ago, when the announcement of Suruki Racing's comeback after ten years of inactivity hit the WRC, the media had a field day with it.

They criticized your father for being a nutjob that didn't know when to quit. They smeared Don Tanaka's name like he didn't make most of the drivers currently selling their dying papers. They even tried to get paid scoops from anyone involved with the team in the slightest.

But the team had one wildcard left to play before pulling the curtains for good and giving them the satisfaction that they ruined it.

You.

The press didn't know about you. No one in the other teams knew about you. Thanks to your father's extremely private life, no one even knew of your existence.

The only people that did were your team in the garage, from the mechanics to your PR agent.

Even walking into the circuit grounds this morning, long hair down over your shoulders, sporting the team gear in plain sight, no one batted an eye at you. Even if they did, they would think you were involved with technical or marketing - though even that was a rarity in this universe - or worse, just another groupie looking to get one of the drivers under your hood.

Your father wanted to give everyone a show they'll never forget by having you drive the first race in the calendar without a proper introduction. No car reveal. No interviews. No pre-race press conference. Just a car and its driver.

This way they would judge your driving before they actually got to judge you for being a woman at the wheel of a three hundred horsepower beast. He trusted you and your judgement on the track far more than the lousy press setting you up for fail. They would get a proper car show and speech after the race anyway.

It was out of the ordinary but that kinda summed up Hiro Suruki and his bipolar personality.

The distorted sound of a megaphone, followed by the voice of the race marshal called you to the start line.

"Car 7, Rai Suruki for Suruki Racing, you're up next!"

You could already see everyone turning their eyes to your station, booming cheers going quiet, turning into sharp murmurs.

Time to get this show going.

Rolling up your windows to block the world, you put the car in gear and drove to the start line, waiting for the green light. Looking out at the lines in the road ahead of you spotting the first hazard ahead, the nerves climbed up your spine faster than your engine could pump the pistons for pressure.

You prepared for this for most of your life, but if you were being honest, it all got a little too real now, sitting with your foot hovering above the gas pedal ahead of the moment that could make or break your career before it even started. The very moment that could be a step forward to restoring your father's name, getting the team back on track in a new age of rally racing. The moment for a change.

No pressure, right?

"Raiko," your co-driver called your name, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the road, gloved fingers tightening on top of the wheel with a small snap. "Do you remember the course?"

"Yes."

"Good. All set?"

"I think so."

"Raiko, look at me."

"You're not my style."

"Raiko," his voice turned more serious and deep with warning. With another sigh into the small, cramped space for breathing your helmet provided, you turned to him.

"You've got this. Let's prove everyone wrong."

He was right.

Let's prove everyone wrong.

The race marshal started the countdown, walking from the front of your car to the side, each number in the count descending with your nerves. You loosened the hold on the wheel, stretched your legs to the pedals and let out a deep breath.

"3."

It's not about how fast you go.

"2."

It's about how long you go fast.

"1."

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

A soon as the lights went green, you hit the throttle and took off into the dirt, raising the dust behind you. You skidded off to the side a little due to the gravel but you got control of it before anyone could notice.

Tokai was a pretty difficult course to rally. The later you got the okay to race, the more dust and gravel from other drivers would pile up in front of you, making visibility dangerously low. The corners were way too tight and one second off from Tanaka's directions or a mishap of your footing could cost you and put your car on the sidelines.

"5 left over crest," Tanaka paced you for the upcoming hill and you prepared to release the throttle.

"1 left 100."

Wheels back on the ground, you resumed pressing the pedal as a hairpin portion came into view. The cloud of dust in front of you was chalky and you had to get through it before it raised higher. Putting the car in second gear, you got ready for the drift portion.

You had to be extra careful here. The mechanic in chief told you to go easy as the rear could send you into oversteer, throwing off the balance of the car and fuck up the race completely.

Listening to your gut, you waited for the right time then tapped the brake, cut the wheels and pressed the throttle, sliding across the portion. Loud cheers and whistles erupted as the crowd in the stands got up to watch you complete a perfect drift.

"3 right don't cut."

Reduce pace and prepare for a possible road hazard.

You slowed down and sure enough a bump in the road came up. If you missed that one and took it at 120 kph, it would've projected you off the track, crashing the car hard into the rocky wall like a cereal box. Thankfully, you swerved around it, feeling the car lift off the ground on the left for a bit before it fell back down.

"6 right very long."

Hard left into a tight corner.

"Cut 8 left."

Tight corner requiring you to follow a straight line in the curb.

This was the last and worst corner on the track. You were lucky it didn't rain because this is where your car can skid off into the stands. You caught the straight line pretty fast, cutting a few seconds off your lap time without slowing down.

Following the rest of Tanaka's directions and focusing on the rest of the road, the race finished before you knew it. You liked the state you were in as you drove, mind clear of everything else because as soon as the adrenaline in your body decreased, your brain got bombarded by all kinds of issues.

Did I push the new suspensions too hard? God, I hope I didn't scratch the rear in the hairpin. Was my timing too off on that last corner? I should've practiced it more.

Driving back to your team's station, you sent all those worries at the back of your head and got out to watch the screen showing the score board just as it updated to display the new track times since you were the last to go.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma - 1.24.55

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 1.23.59

3. Rai Suruki - Suruki Racing - 1.23.40

"WE BAGGED THIRD PLACE?!" you yelled throwing off your helmet onto the car seat.

"WE SURE DID," Tanaka high fived you, beaming with energy just like you.

"That's 15 points on the first stage! Well done, lightning strike," he ruffled your hair as you snickered, nose scrunching up with a smile at the gesture you were already accustomed to.

"The car held up a lot better today than in testing. Maybe we lifted the curse," you wiggled your eyebrows at him at which he flicked your forehead. "Ow, what did you do that for?"

"Don't jinx it. We still have two more stages to go."

"But-"

Before you could say anything else, you were interrupted by angry shouting coming from the station next to you.

"I told you to not touch the third gear," yelled a strained voice.

You walked to the side of your station, peeking your head by the team banner, and watched the heated exchange between one of the drivers and his mechanic. Your eyes wandered to the car sitting in the middle, not one hand touching it for the regular post-race check up. From the different strokes of sky blue layered over stark white, the red and blue sponsor stickers and the carbon spoiler, you recognized it to be Spica Racing's.

"It doesn't matter now," shouted another voice, so annoyed and sure of themselves as if they owned the place. "I got a good lap record this time."

"What would you do if you had to retire in the middle of the race?" shot the mechanic, chastising the driver for being careless.

He got up in his face, towering over him though the other was much taller than him.

"We won't win if I don't attack!" he yelled back, throwing his hand in the air to make a point. "The moment I think of being scared I will lose. I won't make that mistake. So just do your job and fix the car."

With that final remark, he rounded the car to walk away from the station until he noticed you in the corner, now standing in full sight just at the line between your stations.

Quickly replacing the scowl on his face with what was probably his natural smirk, he came to you, stopping short of the barrier separating you.

"I don't do autographs, but for you I can do more than that," he added a daring wink, flashing his cocky smile at you.

Ew.

Taking a small step back hoping his vibes wouldn't envelop you, you uncrossed your arms from your chest and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I don't want your autograph."

Taken aback at your response, he backed up slightly too and looked you up and down, taking in your deep blue and dark gold team fireproofs and the suit tied messily around your waist. The old, way out of fashion colours seemed to ring a bell.

"Suruki Racing...," he started doubtful, "the shithole that revived from the ashes? Are you a mechanic, a co-driver or something for them? If you are, why don't you jump ships? I wouldn't mind having you on my team instead," he finished his speech of intent with another shit-eating grin.

Who the fuck was this guy?

The audacity that wafted off him must definitely make him popular with the ladies.

"I don't think we've met before," you extended your hand out to him, curt and polite, like a normal person would do, introducing yourself.

"Rai Suruki, driver for Suruki Racing," emphasizing your role in the team so he got it through his head that you weren't some bimbo.

If you were, you'd make sure your fist decorated his face in pretty red tones before anything else.

He straightened back, smirk gone from his face in all sense of the word. It got replaced by some kind of curiosity. Looking between you and your palm hanging in the air he looked confused to say the least. He's heard about female racers before and seen some working in technical around the place, he's just never seen one stand against him on track.

Tired of being polite to someone who obviously has never heard about manners, you were about to retract your extended hand when he caught it in a firm grip and pulled it towards him, just holding it instead of shaking it. The move sent you forwards, almost barreling into him when your reaction response kicked in to steel you a safe distance away.

Maybe Tanaka's intense survival program pays off sometimes.

"So," he began and you wondered if he was about to say something intelligent or spew more shit with that mouth of his. He decided to choose the latter. "You're the one driving the Beetle dupe right there?"

Eh, come again?

Your eyes widened at him, looking at where his finger was pointed to confirm that he was pointing at your car and not anywhere else, then you whirled your head back at him appalled.

"B-Beetle dupe?!"

"I thought you were a guy."

Wouldn't be the first time I heard that one.

You took your hand back from his hold, wiping it on the sleeves of the suit hanging on your hips in the hopes that it would wipe off the disgust you were feeling too. It didn't but it was worth a try.

"It's the name," you replied through gritted teeth.

He backed up some more to scan you again, though more attentively this time, like you were some kind of illegality, cooked up from the pits of his imagination. You gave him your best front, hardening your jaw and rolling your shoulders backwards, proving you were more than a pair of boobs and a vagina, which was apparently his deranged first impression of you.

You deserved to be here. No amount of stares from the male specimen, surprised or with sinful intentions, could ever make you back down from this. This was yours to take on. No man could take this from you. Not him anyway.

So, you stared him down too, trying to find something else beside the extreme big dick energy and unsurmountable lack of scruples surrounding him. Struggling to see anything else but some disdain in the way he crossed his arms over his broad chest, a rich prick attitude from how he shifted on his legs like the world owed him golden lingos every time he breathed, and some leftover rage from the screaming match with his mechanic still present in the tick of his jaw, you let your eyes meet his own in conclusion of your very own analysis.

Yeah, there's nothing else in there. An ambulant douchebag. Just like I thought.

Flashing cameras were suddenly thrown in your faces, interrupting the intense stare-down between you. The press and some people, potentially fans of other teams by their t-shirts, surrounded you from every corner of the plastic barrier around the two stations, pushing each other over the race marshals that tried their hardest to keep them away. It wasn't long until they pushed over the barrier.

Too absorbed in the chaos, you didn't notice he leaned down to your ear but when you did, you stilled in your shoes, all blood draining into your pounding stomach. He spoke close and low, so only you could hear his words.

"Don't get too comfortable around here, rookie," he whispered, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear making shivers run down your extremely clothed spine. "Let's see how long you last in here because this season might just be your first and last."

Pulling away with another one of his smirks that were starting to get on your nerves, he regarded you once more before he walked off in amusement to his cool-down room, giving you a full view of his broad back.

Oh, just you wait -

A reporter shoved into the human barrier of orange and green safety vests reaching the railing, yanking it back and forth repeatedly until the poor plastic seal broke off, letting everyone else pool in around you.

Uh-oh. This wasn't good.

They packed around you like wolves on their prey, all shouting different things at you while shoving their big cameras, recording devices and phones in your face. The flashes blinded you, turning the world white and too bright for it to be natural light from the clouded sky above.

Your hands shot up on instinct to cover your eyes from the flaring lights as your ears focused on filtering through the blaring sounds of camera clicks and voices. Then the countless questions registered clear as day, hitting you like a truck at full speed.

"Are you Rai Suruki, daughter of Hiro Suruki?"

"Where did your father get the money to restart the team?"

"Is your car even going to last a season?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

I guess that was it for mystery, dad.

Some of the other teams passed by the ruckus, sparing quick judgmental glances or sending disgusting sneers your way like that was the way they initiated your welcome ceremony at the gates of the jungle.

If this was any other series, you would've been so welcomed by the rest of the grid and treated somewhat better by the media and the fans. But this was the World Rally Championships.

Driving was dirty.

Talk was filthy, full of disrespect and unspoken trials of envy between each driver.

The press competed to see who would get your head on a pike first and parade it as the story of the century.

Respect was fought for, not earned.

It was a different game. One where you needed to play even if you didn't want to so in turn you wouldn't get played. Survival of the fittest truly.

You steeled your gaze, waving the reporters off and digging a hole through the crowd, successfully escaping away to your pit crew. Helping with packing up bits and pieces and taking your own stuff, you headed back to your team quarters, aware of the intensifying stares belonging to the rest of the teams still around their stations, talking about the first day in this season's calendar being an interesting one.

You had a feeling you and the team were the hot topic of conversation since you could feel their eyes searing deep holes into your back, burning hotter and doing more damage than flame-lit arrows aimed straight at you ever could. Tanaka wrapped an arm around you giving you his curled moustache smile, sympathizing with you.

Looking up at the sky darkening in mauve and pink, you let a small smile grace your lips. At least today was done. Your rally racing career has officially started. The team was back in business.

However, this first stage was just one of the many challenges still to come. Who knew what else was on the way?

As you trudged on the warm asphalt, there was one thing you knew for sure.

This is gonna be a long season.

Thank you for reading :) As always leave a like, comment or reblog!

What is up tumblr

I just created a new AO3 acount and just posted a new fic so i came here to promote it because thats just what you do:]

Its a tommy centric racing AU with ist fair amount of hurt/confort, its kind of a slowburn but ill most likely be updating way more frequently if people like it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35675827/chapters/88951867

bitchin’ rides: the sequel | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x female!reader

genre: racer!au, smut, angst (kinda), jealousy, fluff

warnings: another wild ride (lol get it?), racing, dangerous driving, street racing, jealous, sex, angry sex, choking, face slapping, blood choking (he’s like really jealous lol), unprotected sex (stay safe), creampies (yes multiple), cockwarming, creaming, cum eating (sigh), cum play (lol), cum drinking (yes, again), spanking, hair pulling, oral (remale and male receiving), bondage, overstimulation, forced/multiple orgasms, dirty talk. 

summary: you and Jungkook have known each other for 8 months, and have been dating for 6 1/2 months. he’s still racing and you’re still in college, close to earning your associate’s degree. problems arise, however, when his racer buddies show up at your front door; his jealousy.

Turning over and yawning, you wince slightly at the annoying alarm going off on your boyfriend’s cellphone, causing you to groan, pressing snooze. Noticing Jungkook is still sound asleep, you untangle his arm from around your waist, rolling out of the bed, yawning and then stretching. Slipping into his, quite large, white t-shirt, you head downstairs to cook breakfast for the both of you. 

Flipping the pancake in the pan, you exhale as you feel a pair of cool hands lift up your (his) shirt and begin to leave a trail of goosebumps as they travel up your thighs and to your hips, exposing your upper thighs and lower belly. You feel his lips press against the quickly heating skin of your neck. He begins sucking over a bruise he placed there last night, darkening it. You begin to feel yourself getting slick, your panties sticking to your center uncomfortably. You whine when he squeezes your hips. “Jungkook, what about breakfast”, you huff out. He presses his erection into your ass, smirking against your skin, “I want you for breakfast, baby”.

He flips you around turning the stove off and lifting you onto the counter. Dropping the spatula, you open your legs and he steps between them, placing kisses against your temple. Wrapping your bare thighs around his waist, you kiss up his jawline, sucking your own version of dark marks into his unblemished skin. A breathless chuckle leaves his lips at the whimper that graces his skin, forced out of your mouth at his unexpected fingers plucking at your nipples. “You’re so beautiful”, he murmurs, twisting your hardened buds in his gentle yet firm grip. You whine, enjoying how easily he can draw this submissive side out of you. You just loved how he could get you there so quickly.

A knock at the front door causes him to halt, your eyes fluttering open in confusion; you didn’t hear a thing. Of course, until a deep male voice called out, “Jeon”, and your boyfriend let out a slightly irritated sigh, lifting his head from the crevice in your neck. His jaw ticks as he finally catches your gaze, “Go get dressed”, and to avoid your upcoming protests, he places four quick pecks to your lips. He attempts to pull away, but you whine, tightening your thighs around his waist, “Daddy”, and he sighs, already beginning to feel his cock stiffening, “Baby, please don’t do this right now”, and they knock again. You stare, pouting for a moment, before ultimately releasing his waist. He flashes his bunny teeth at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Thank you, cheonsa”, he whispers against your skin before rushing off to answer the door, and as he does, you hop off the counter and head upstairs to get dressed in something a bit more appropriate.

Changing in the bedroom, you hear your front door open and soft voices from behind the closed door. Doing the basics, you hurry to finish getting dressed before you’re exiting the shared bedroom and out to the living room, six different men standing around and Jungkook in the middle. 

You stand in the doorway for a while longer before Jungkook turns his head and sends you a soft smile, motioning you over to come sit on his lap. Doing so, he wraps his arm around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder, half interested in what his ‘friends’ are saying. Half of his attention is on you, his lips rubbing against the shell of your ear before he ultimately turns his attention back to the men speaking. 

It seems like you’ve caught the end of the conversation, however, because by the time you actually tune into listening, they seem like they’re waiting for your boyfriend’s response. 

Clearing his throat, Jungkook speaks up, “Well, if they want a race, then we’ll give them one. What’s their bet”, he hums, his hand dropping down to your lower back. They all send each other a look before the leader of the group seems to let out a heavy sigh, sending a glance your way. 

“Well, if you lose, they want Y/n..”, he mutters, trying to gauge how violent Jungkook’s reaction would be. Surprisingly, he stays silent, but what gives him away is the grip at your lower waist, tightening and making you shift in his lap. “You don’t have to take up the bet, of course, but Jungkook you’re our best racer and we need this territory. You’ve never lost a race, this time wouldn’t be any different, just what’s at stake.”

The guy has a point and instead of being afraid, you turn to Jungkook and grab his arm, squeezing it before kissing the bridge of his nose and he looks at you. “They have a point”, you start, your voice soothing the fire in his eyes, “We both know you wouldn’t lose me. Just do it”, and his eyes widen. He looks at you for a few seconds before nodding, his eyes darting back to his friends.

“Fine, when’s the race?”

“Tonight.”

Pulling up to the starting line, you rest your hand on Jungkook’s thigh, feeling the way his muscles tense in anxiety. Tracing a pattern on his jeans, you look up at him and find his eyes staring straight at you, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “You don’t need to do this”, he murmurs under his breath, his hand dropping to squeeze yours.

“I know, but I want to. I believe in you, baby”, you whisper, leaning across the arm rest to kiss his lips, “You won’t let them win”, you murmur against his plush skin. Jungkook kisses you back with fervor, his hand coming to cup the back of your neck possessively. 

Climbing out of the car, you watch as Jungkook makes his way over to his crew, waving at them while he leaves you resting against the hood of his car. Your eyes follow him before your friend Natasha steps into view, throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. “Y/n! I’ve missed you”, she mumbles into your shoulder, rubbing your back before pulling away and smiling at you. 

“Hey Natts, what’re you doing here”, you ask her, scooting over to make room against the car. She leans back with you and eyes her own lover, Taehyung. “Came to support Tae, you know we’ve been dating now”, she chuckles. You laugh, rolling your eyes, “No shit? Really”, you sarcastically remark before giggling along with your friend. 

Suddenly, though, Nat stops laughing before arching her eyebrow. “What the fuck is she doing”, she mutters, nodding her head towards the guys. Looking over, you catch Jungkook’s ex girlfriend Carly, her hands wrapped around her bicep as she laughs at something that no one else found funny. Jungkook seems uneasy but nevertheless, laughs along with her. 

A fire of jealousy burns in your belly as you push off from the car, making your way around dancing bodies until you’re standing behind Carly. Clearing your throat, she turns around and immediately stops grinning. Jungkook does the same, shrugging her hands off and fixing his eyes on your face, trying to figure out your reaction. You do nothing but step around her and tuck yourself into Jungkook’s side, his hand coming to securely wrap around your waist. 

“Hey there, Carrie”, you mutter, purposely fucking up her name, “How’ve you been?”. She rolls her eyes before crossing her arms, “It’s Carly-”, you cut her off. “I don’t fucking care. Keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll break them off”, you hiss, and Jungkook whips his head down to look at you, his eyes widened slightly. 

She huffs before stomping off, her flimsy skirt swaying behind her. Jungkook turns to you before biting his lip, “Someone’s a bit jealous, aren’t they”, he chuckles, pulling you closer by your hips. You chuckle before twisting out his grip, “Yeah, whatever”, and sulk back over to your bestfriend. Jungkook watches with a smirk on his face, shaking his head before turning to finish going over the plan with his crew. 

Once you’re in front of your bestfriend, you’re about to inform her about what happened but someone’s hands wrap around your waist instead, and you have the split thought it’s your boyfriend. But a different voice proves you wrong.

Jungkook should’ve been paying more attention to you, especially considering how you were dressed. That thought hits him when his eyes find you struggling to get one of his racing opponents off you.

What the fuck?

You don’t know what you expected Jungkook to do once he saw the guy harassing you, but you knew it probably wasn’t going to be gentle. What you didn’t expect was for Jungkook to snatch him off you and deliver a firm punch to the guy’s mouth. He swears at the undoubtedly hard hit, blood pooling in his mouth as he speaks, “What the fuck was that for, Jeon”, and Jungkook’s jaw ticks, anger swimming in his eyes. “Keep your hands off my girl”, he all but growls. 

Grabbing your elbow, he pulls you away from the crowd and back towards the starting line. Walking up to the passenger side of his car, he opens the door and nudges you toward it, “Get in the car, Y/n”, and before you reply, he presses his lips to yours hard, his eyes open and staring into your own; there was a burning jealousy in his gaze, mixed with anger, love and adoration all at once. Guilt consumes you and you obediently slide into the seat once he breaks the kiss, the door slamming shut behind you. 

A few minutes later, he’s sitting next to you on the driver’s side, checking his car and testing god knows what without even sparing you a glance. You decide to use the uncomfortable silence as a chance to actually speak up, “Jungkook, I can explain-”, and his head whips to look at you. “Stop talking, Y/n”, and your mouth shuts instantly. “I don’t feel like talking about the fact I can’t trust my girlfriend alone”, he mutters carelessly as if that one sentence didn’t just cause your heart to stutter in your chest. Jungkook could be cruel when he was upset, but it still didn’t stop the gasp that left your lips and his head turned to actually look at you. The obvious hurt on your face and the tears pooling in your eyes caused his mouth to open, but before he could speak, knuckles knock at the driver side window.

Turning your head as tears fall down your cheeks, you listen as your face reflects on the window. “Are you ready”, the referee asks, and Jungkook sighs before nodding, rolling his window back up and starting his engine. He looks over at you and rubs your thigh, sighing quietly before leaning over to kiss your cheek; an apology. “Baby, put your seat belt on.”

A few minutes pass and the referee is counting down. Nervousness pools in your gut, but you notice Jungkook is calm so you try to relax and give off good vibes to keep the atmosphere steady. The last thing you need is for Jungkook to lose because of your nerves. Nodding at the ref, Jungkook revs his engine and the opponent revs back. You watch the racers standing at the edges to cheer for your boyfriend. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as the referee drops the flag and Jungkook’s foot slams down on the gas pedal, the car racing forward. 

Jungkook’s knuckles turn white with the strength of his grip on the steering wheel, his other hand shifting to grip the gear stick. Coming up on a turn, Jungkook doesn’t hit the corner fast enough, his opponent jumping the curb and snatching that small width of space and pulling ahead. You hear your boyfriend swear, his jaw tight with irritation at the action. You grab his hand on the gear stick, squeezing it reassuringly. His head snaps to you, forgetting you were there, and then his gaze drops to your hand and back to the road. He needed more.

In a short burst of courage, you let his hand go and scoff, “Cmon Kook, are you really about to let this fucker win”, you ask rhetorically, “Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe he’ll actually please me”, you snap, wanting to give life to the possessiveness living inside him. Lucky for you both, it works, the idea of losing you getting under his skin. Just as the finish line is approaching, Jungkook turns on his nitro boost and his car jets past the other, crossing the finish line first. 

He yanks the steering wheel, halting the car and getting out, the opponent pulling past and stopping as well. Watching, you see Jungkook shake his hand, his eyes still dark. You also watch as his crew member and friend, Jimin, approaches him and asks your boyfriend what time he’s coming to the victory party. But to your surprise,Jungkook shakes his head and heads back towards you and the car. Opening his car door, he slides in next to you, closing the door and pulling out his phone. You watch as he orders something and then slips it back into his pocket, starting the engine and heading in the opposite direction. 

“Kook, why aren’t you going to your victory party-”, but he shushes you, stopping at a red light. He peeks over at you before tilting his head, “I’ll be too busy teaching my girl how to watch her mouth”.

Stopping in front of your apartment complex, Jungkook parks at the curb and tells you to get out as he does the same, locking the doors. Before you can begin walking to the door, Jungkook scoops you up into his arms, throwing your smaller body over his shoulder. You yelp as he delivers a firm spank to your ass, no doubt leaving a mark. Chuckling darkly, he opens your front door and sets you down on your feet, a smirk on his face.

Before you even get the chance to speak, Jungkook’s hand comes up and grasps your throat tightly, cutting off a sliver of oxygen. You don’t fight back, letting him back you up against the door and pressing you to it. His eyes glow with lust and that familiar fire; jealousy. He gives you a sinister smile, squeezing to the point where your mouth drops open in a gasp, drool pooling on your tongue. Jungkook takes the chance to spit into your mouth, gripping your jaw with his other hand and forcing it closed. “Swallow”, he growls. You do. 

Your eyes close when he begins to lean forward, instead of pressing a kiss to your lips, he sucks your bottom flesh between his teeth, gnawing at the soft, plush lip and enjoying the whimper that creeps up your throat. He swallows it down, his hand tightening around your throat more. Your eyes begin to roll and you stomp your foot, the lack of oxygen causing your head to swim in arousal and adrenaline. 

He latches his lips over yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth, stepping forward to press his body against yours. In a fit of brattiness, you playfully nip at his tongue causing him to grunt in irritation. He pulls away, slapping your cheek slightly and you let out a whine. To shut you up, Jungkook drops his hands from your figure, instead reaching down to remove his belt. You know what’s coming next, instinctively holding out your wrists. 

The corners of his mouth lift up into an approving grin, beginning to wrap the belt around your wrists, effectively tying you up. Looking into his eyes, you see that gentleness fade, his gaze now holding the darkness it did before. 

Excited, he pushes you down by your shoulder to your knees, looking down at you expectantly. Without breaking eye contact, he continues to unbuckle his jeans, pulling them down his thighs and his dark boxers following. You notice he’s wearing the boxers you bought him, and your heart flutters at the small thought of it. He sees the smile spreading in your eyes and chuckles, that dominant side faltering slightly as his hand drops to your cheek, stroking the heated skin.

Just as quickly as it appeared, you cause it to wither, “Now show me how to watch my mouth, Sir”, and that dark look is back, a snarl gracing his lips. “I plan to, now open up, slut”.

Obediently opening your mouth, your gaze drops to his awaiting cock, the sight causing a breath to stutter in your lungs before you inhale sharply. You could never get over his size; the sheer length and thickness of him caused your mouth to water. Sticking your tongue out, Jungkook watched as drool dripped off the tip of it. He grips the heavy weight of his cock, rubbing his tip against your tongue, the salty precum causing your saliva glands to produce more at the tangy taste.

Deciding to bypass all the bullshit, you envelope his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over his slit. The action gives you the exact reaction you want. He moans loudly, his head tossing back, “Fuck, darling”, it comes out as a broken whine which soaks your panties further. Jungkook loses his patience, pushing his hips forward and causing you to gag. He grabs your head, thrusting shallowly into the back of your throat, hitting it and causing tears to fall down your cheeks and onto his fingers. 

Jungkook’s head is tossed back when you look up at him through your eyelashes, his throat bobbing in pleasure. He swears, the next time he thrusts his hips, you lift your head and instead of him hitting the back of your throat, he goes down it. 

You swallow around him and he whines, “Shit, baby, do that again”, he moans, cupping your cheek. You obey, swallowing around his cock and he fists your hair, cumming down your throat. Swallowing gulps of it down, he pulls out of your mouth once you’ve finished, his cock still very much hard. 

He pulls you up, turning you around and walking you toward the dining room table, his lips pressing into the heated skin of your neck, sucking dark marks into the unblemished skin. Your cheeks darken, heating up at the gush of wetness that rushes out of your cunt, your knees trembling when he grips your ass.

Bending you over the dining table, he reaches around the front of your hips, unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down, leaving your soaked panties to stick to your cunt. He drops down to his knees, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. You let out a yelp when you feel his teeth sink into the curve of your ass cheek, your back arching. One hand crawls up and presses into the dip in your spine, holding you to the table.

His lips work their way up to the covered cunt in front of him, panties soaked with wetness. He buries his nose into your cunt, inhaling before kissing your labia, ghosting his lips down over your clit. You stomp your foot, and Jungkook slaps your ass in warning. “Behave”, he growls out, yet you whine in protest.

Listening to your pleas, finally, Jungkook pulls your panties to the side, sticking his tongue out to prod at your leaking entrance. You moan out his name, your forehead dropping against the polished wood of your dining room table. In a new burst of motivation, he latches his soft lips over your flit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth. Bringing his hand up, his index finger pokes at your entrance, pushing in and settling against your tight, warm walls. The teasing lasts a minute before he takes pity and adds a second finger, pulling them both out until your glistening juices are sticking to his fingertips, a few lines connecting him to you. He only finds this more attractive, a gush of precum dripping out of his tip and running down his length. 

Still eye level with your cunt, he unlaces your shoes, lifting your body with one arm and uses his unoccupied hand to pull them off. Once he’s tossed them to the side, he pulls your bottoms and underwear off, sliding them off and nudging them to the side. 

He stands, still palming your bent over ass, and he aims the fat head of his cock to your quivering hole, the veins in his arms straining against his skin as he eases into you. You whine as you feel the thick head of him stretch you open, the feeling of your quivering wet walls causing him to push forward abruptly. You whimper once he’s buried to the hilt inside of you, your eyes watering as drool pools in your mouth. 

Jungkook holds his bearing, feeling his balls tighten, he sighs when he cums inside of you, his hot cum splashing against your walls. However, he doesn’t pull out, instead he holds himself steady, rearing his hips back before slamming into you again, his balls pressing against your slit and getting drenched along with the rest of him.

Your cries are loud, almost positive that the neighbors can hear you getting your back blown out. He must be thinking the same because he grunts before stuffing two of his fingers into your mouth, his knuckles already glistening with your spit. “Mm I’m sure the neighbors can hear me fucking you brainless, hm”, and you moan, tears staining your cheeks.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head up so your throat is visible, eyes staring straight into his, “Say my name, bitch, let them know who’s fucking this perfect cunt”, he growls. His thrusts grow more animalistic as your cries echo off the walls. “Jungkook”, you say breathlessly. He slaps your ass, “Louder, baby. I can’t fucking hear you”, he snarls, and his hand drops down to toy at your clit, forcing your eyes back into your skull. “Jungkook!”, you cry, drool leaking down your chin and neck.

Dropping his hand down to wrap around your neck, he pulls you up, your back flush against his bare chest. Bending over to mold himself to you, his teeth grazing your ear as he whispers into your ear, “Gonna cum baby? Hm? Gonna cream on my fat cock”, and the deep growl of his voice causes you to lose it, the hand wrapped around your throat intensifying your orgasm all the more. He follows not too far behind, emptying inside you for the second time, making a mess of the floors once he pulls out. 

After you both clean yourselves and the dining room up, you’re lounging on the couch in your boyfriend’s arms, watching another Marvel movie. After a while, Jungkook turns to you and grabs your hand, locking your gaze. 

“Y/n, do you want to race?”