#1000cc bike

[n1ckelpistol]

Biker hank

[lawya]

Vibing to the elevator music 🎶

Insta: Law_ya

[greatdaytourism]

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[saintobio]

blank canvas. (2)

after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating

notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable. 

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it? 

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family. 

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this. 

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight. 

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.” 

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.” 

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first? 

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really? 

“I want to do it.” 

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.” 

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure. 

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was. 

Did Sukuna feel the same? 

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.” 

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was? 

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.” 

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face. 

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk. 

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed. 

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was. 

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.” 

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.” 

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.” 

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.” 

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?” 

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.” 

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom. 

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds. 

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it. 

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked. 

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here. 

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?” 

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.” 

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V. 

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.” 

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking. 

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it? 

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.” 

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such. 

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.” 

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?” 

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.” 

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body. 

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?” 

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment. 

Holy fuck was all you could say. 

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty. 

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.” 

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier. 

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing. 

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.” 

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair. 

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself. 

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out. 

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?” 

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw? 

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.” 

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.” 

“Okay…” 

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you. 

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be. 

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding. 

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore? 

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance. 

“Haaa—!” 

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock. 

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!” 

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!” 

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you. 

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.” 

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.” 

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have. 

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.” 

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.” 

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?” 

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.” 

Why did he sound like he was giving up? 

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.” 

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.” 

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.” 

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay. 

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly. 

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s. 

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.” 

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.” 

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on. 

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued. 

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”  

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this? 

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.” 

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.” 

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon. 

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school. 

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.” 

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.” 

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.” 

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.” 

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.” 

“Be serious,” you warned. 

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.” 

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.” 

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?” 

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?” 

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior. 

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.” 

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment. 

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.” 

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark. 

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?” 

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?” 

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires. 

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.” 

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?” 

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.” 

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this. 

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too. 

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue. 

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together. 

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating. 

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close. 

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face. 

His ex-girlfriend of three years. 

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?” 

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies. 

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.” 

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?” 

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.” 

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?” 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here? 

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.” 

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?” 

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.” 

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve. 

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.” 

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!” 

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.” 

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head. 

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed? 

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it. 

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?” 

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.” 

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?” 

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.” 

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?” 

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?” 

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.” 

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life. 

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right. 

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart. 

**

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?” 

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.” 

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp. 

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.” 

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?” 

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.” 

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.” 

**

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?” 

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad. 

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit. 

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.” 

**

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.” 

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared. 

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.” 

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.” 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“...Alright.” 

“Okay.” 

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.” 

He knew what she was about to do next. 

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses. 

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.” 

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face. 

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.” 

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night. 

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you. 

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago. 

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do. 

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart. 

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?” 

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?” 

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.” 

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?” 

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.” 

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?” 

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out. 

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.” 

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!” 

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!” 

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.” 

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.” 

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”  

…

…

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you. 

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you. 

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way. 

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others. 

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up. 

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop. 

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.” 

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully. 

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.” 

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well. 

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.” 

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.” 

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.” 

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future. 

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”

[califwhite]

Biker!Sukuna whose blacked out Yamaha YZF-R1 you hear from a mile away, sputtering and grunting with nothing but 1000cc of raw power down the highway. The empty night air only echoing the sound back at him which gives the man the most wicked grin under the mask.

Biker!Sukuna who can't shake the feeling of somebody watching him and finally gives his head a little tilt to find your eyes tracing the dark ink running across his exposed arms. Your mouth was even dropped open a little in awe.

Biker!Sukuna who looks around before gliding over to the passenger’s side of your best friend’s car, pressing his ginormous, gloved hand to the window to tease you a little. He chuckles when you press your much smaller hand against the glass where his rests.  

You, eyeing the thick, muscular thighs of Biker!Sukuna, straddling the beast of a vehicle, pelvis pressed into his seat as he leaned forward slightly and strayed from your window. 

Biker!Sukuna who cockily blows you a kiss, bracing himself as he jerks the throttle and speeds off his exit, his bike roaring and coughing flames.

You can barely focus on your book on the way home, plagued by the thoughts of him. And pissed Biker!Sukuna cuts his workout short because everytime he shuts his eyes to push through the end of a set, he sees the face of the pretty girl from the highway. How pathetic.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝓈ℯ𝓉𝓈

This is so self indulgent, i luv Ducati’s <3 soft!Rafe my love. No warnings just tooth rottin fluff (:

Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Dude, that thing is fucking amazing.” His friend said, admiring Rafe’s new motorcycle.

“I know.” He said, a grin on his face. You stood next to him, already having heard about it all over text and calls and even over your date last night. Ever since he got it he hasn’t stopped talking.

“And it’s a damn ducati. How much did that shit cost?” Topper asked him.

“This baby cost me 50,00.” Rafe replied, looking at it, his hand caressing the seat. You rolled your eyes, Jesus he looked at that thing like he was in love with it.

“We done now?” You asked him, he turned to look at you now, your helmet in your hands.

“In a minute, sweetheart.” He said, turning back to his friends now. “It can go up to… 200 miles per hour.” He tilted his head to the side, remembering it.

“Damn! So it’s 1000cc?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” They continued to talk for a little until you let out a sigh, he knew it was time.

“Well, we should get goin’ now. I’ll see you guys later.” He said, saying goodbye and hopping on the bike. You got on after him. Wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, you both putting your helmets on.

He started it, and you both were on the road, tour grip on his waist tightening, your body flush against his.

He decided to take the scenic route, which was actually just past an old trail that no went on , driving past it and the setting sun.

He looked in the back of him and saw no one was behind him, so he slowed down a bit to look with you.

He glanced back at you, watching you flip your visor up to get a clearer view. He had a small smile underneath his helmet.

You looked at him back, noticing his eyes even through the helmet. You gave him a small smile, and he mumbled a ‘fuck it,’ parking on the side. It was an empty road next to an abandoned trail , no one would be here anyways.

He flipped up his visor, now turning his body to look at the sunset, still sat on the bike. You turned around to, putting your head on his shoulder, the bulkiness of your helmet making a raspy laugh escape him.

“I love you.” He mumbled quietly, suddenly feeling the urge to say it.

You turned to him now, your head lifting from his shoulder to look at him. In your many years of being friends and dating, he’s never said it.

A smile made its way onto your face, you grabbed his helmet, your eyes looking into his now.

“I love you.” You said back, he smiled back and you leaned your head back onto his shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, you both watching the sun dissapear from behind the trees. You stayed like that for a while, in the comfortable, beautiful silence.

[tojisun]

biker!simon benching his 1000cc bike when he gets with you because he doesn’t want you worrying. sure he doesn’t have to use the max speed of it but the temptation is strong so he rather not (it’s not permanent, anyway. it’s just so he can learn how to cruise with a slower bike without picking up speed when his mind ultimately forgets). you don’t even know the differences so this is all a him-thing and i dunno. just thinking about simon curbing old habits for you makes me so !!! it’s not like he wasn’t careful then but there are more deliberate attempts now. and even if it’s unusual and awkward at first, he likes the change.

[sukunasxsub]

BikerSukuna! X Reader

Part 1

The sound of a high pitch exhaust shifting gears, catches the attention of yourself. You look up from the book you’re currently reading and around the surrounding area of the park you lie at, under the shaded tree.

the love for motorcycles you have, makes you perk at the sound of the person shifting their gears repeatedly making the exhaust higher, sounding like the bike could be reaching top speed. ‘Man, the person must be really feeling something, unless they’re late, haha’ you think to yourself and returning to your book.

After a couple hours went by, you notice it getting dark and the sun was setting but you can sill see the light that aluminates the reflection of a pair of fenders reflecting the sun towards my eyes. The rev of the 1000cc engine softening to a slow stop, just a couple hundred feet away from you, and you look and stare at this cherry red Yamaha R1 sports bike, eyeing the man controlling the beast of an engine. If you arn’t careful, you might look stupid and drool all over yourself.

you watch as the man slides his helmet off, revealing his true form. Black lines outlining his jaw line and cheeks, forehead tattoos and realizing his rolled up sleeves of his button up tight shirt shows his arm tattoos. You gasp at how utterly heavenly he looks, very sinful of anyone to look deviously sexy, especially on a sports bike. He looks up from under his eyelids, with furrowed brows as if to notice you gasp and stare at him. He looks up at you with an intense stare as if he’s glaring at you, if anyone were to view the stare down it looks as if he was glaring at you for just sitting here in his presence. But to you, his intense “glare” was intoxicating. You gulped and didn’t faulter your stare to him of innocence. His bike still running, his right hand placed over his throttle and a light twist to the wrist, he revved his bike twice at you, there a small smile grew on your lips with a bite to your bottom lip and you looked back down at your book. You slipped your hair behind one ear and looks back up at him with red tinted cheeks.

he’s still starring at you but this time a smirk plastered on his face. You suddenly get a nervous ache in your stomach and close your book and pack your little afternoon picnic and head to your car with out looking back at the bad boy you thought all to well dangerous to get close to, so you don’t even try to try to engage other than that smile. Before you can get in your car, steps in the gravel is hood behind you and a throat being cleared. You stop in your tracks and turn around, being met by your book being shoved in your face.

“you dropped this, while holding a handful.” And if your drool was bad, imagine your panties right now. The husk of a voice that came from…. Made you look up at those intense red eyes that matched his beast of a bike. Your heart jumped out of your chest in surprise at how close he was. Again intoxicating.

“Um, thanks and sorry for the trouble.” You say and grab the book from his hands. Your hand glides against and over his. You don’t notice but he stepped half a step closer to you. You turn around to place the book on your front seat. You turn back around and the pink haired guy with intense tattoos and a hard gaze was gone.

From that evening on you haven’t seen the guy but You always hear a specific revv of an engine and gears shifting up in speed in the city of your home. You heart speeding up hoping somewhere it would be him and if he’s okay. As the beast of sport bikes are dangerous.

Until you met him in the city.

Part two will

Be out soon! Look forward to it! Thank you for the love and support!

[42bakery]

Depends on the rider or what they have schedule or if they are invited because by posting it it's free publicity

But yeah most of the time riders rent the track, hence why, so many are at the same time on the same track. An example of this is Rocco's Ranch and Mack misfits,

I don't know why, but somehow it didn't occur to me that riders pay everytime they go to a track to train like that isn't something the team or whoever pays, it's them paying themselves. Or maybe that's an Alonso thing, I don't know

[motocorsas]

here's my rundown of all the new 2027 tech regulations:

the most important news is the reduction in engine capacity. the pistons are going to be reduced from 1000cc to 800cc, meaning they generate less power with each stroke. the bore of the pistons is also going to be reduced, which is the width of the piston head. the wide bores that have been in use for some time deliver more power, so reducing bore size means less fuel and air will be used with each stroke. this makes the bike slower, but more fuel efficient.

fuel efficiency has also been taken into account with the new gas tank and fuel regulations. gas tanks are being reduced from 22 to 20 liters for full races and from 11 to 10 for the sprint. essentially, since dorna has reduced bike power, they've reduced fuel capacity as well, since less fuel is needed.

this is where the new sustainable fuel comes in: the new fuel will be a mix of biofuel and synthetic, both of which have a lower power storage by volume compared to gas fuel. this will also reduce power. are you seeing a pattern?

the last time 800cc bikes were used in MotoGP, they were absolutely hated by riders. from 2007 to 2012, engine capacity was reduced from 990cc to 800cc for similar reasons as today; concerns about safety and overtaking. but the bikes were considered some of the worst to ride, due to low torque and inconsistent power delivery, meaning the bike performed best a very narrow rpm and throttle range -- step on the gas for just a milisecond longer, and you'd get shot off the bike. that made highsides much more frequent. mat oxley explains here:

the title of the article is MotoGP 800s - Rot In Peace, which feels like a grim portent of the years to come.

attempts to mitigate the engine's problems with electronics also sacrificed power and overtaking.

sound familiar? right now, riders, stewards and engineers are all complaining about overdone electronics. this brings us to the next point revealed in the presentation, that holeshot and ride height devices will be banned.

these devices program the bike body to shift up and down under certain conditions, carrying momentum and reducing drag. holeshot devices specifically program the bike to start, resulting in the classic rocket-powered starts we see today. riders plant their feet, tuck their heads down, and let the bike do the rest. holeshot devices have their negatives, especially combined with heavy aero -- plenty of crashes occur in the first few corners of a race because the overpowered start combined with heavily engineered aero shoots a rider directly into another's rear tire. this is the sacrifice made for overtuning bikes so that they're perfectly optimized.

but notably, these changes don't mitigate crashes! despite claiming to prioritize safety, reducing power on its own does not reduce crashes. less torque = slower corner exit = riders prioritizing quicker roll speed and engineers seeking higher rpms. and less power = less braking = less overtakes.

none of this is to say that the original 800cc era was inexcusably terrible or that the new era will be as well. but i don't think liberty media or dorna understand what draws viewers to the sport. in the presentation, they justify most of these changes as making bikes more "road relevant", increasing mileage and sustainability. but world superbike already exists to fill that niche, making motogp obsolete in that sense. i'm all for safe and environmentally conscious racing, but as stated above, these new regulations don't make motogp more safe. they also don't make it more eco-friendly either; ethanol fuel is nice, but it's a drop in the ocean compared to the absurd emissions generated by transporting the entire traveling circus from racetrack to racetrack. if there's anything motogp can learn from wsbk, it's a reduced calendar. less travel means less emissions, and longer breaks gives riders time to recuperate from injuries.

in their attempts to make motogp a better entertainment product, liberty media are challenging the integrity of the sport. their unnecessary limitations ignore the true root of most problems -- overworked riders and teams and a bloated schedule -- and waste money in the process. constantly changing concessions and regulations forces manufacturers to spend more and more money developing new bikes; no wonder teams have been dropping out. these concessions don't help anyone but liberty, since they can claim they've "revolutionized" the sport and made it into a safe, sustainable overtake-fest. all they've really done is sanitize it.

[lawya]

Spme things lie deep way under the surface in the night 🌑🌃

Instagram: Law_ya

[coimbrabertone]

Cautiously Optimistic - Liberty Media Buying MotoGP

So, Liberty Media, owners of Formula One, are officially trying to buy MotoGP. This has been rumored for the last few months, with Dorna Sports - the parent company of MotoGP and World Superbike - had spent the last few years making the kind of moves you'd make before a big sale. The launch of sprint races in MotoGP, appointing a new CCO in the form of Dan Rossomondo, and expanding the calendar with new races in new markets.

Nevertheless, there were always question marks over whether Liberty Media could own both MotoGP and Formula One, because precedent suggested they could not. As Simon Patterson reported for the Race, in 2006, CVC Capital Partners acquired Formula One and thus European regulators ordered them to sell off MotoGP. Thus, MotoGP was sold to another private equity firm, Bridgepoint. Bridgepoint would then acquire World Superbike in 2013, and evidently owning the two premier global motorcycle racing series didn't seem to bother any regulators at that point.

I can't help but combine that with a quote from Dan Rossomondo made at some point while being the Chief Commercial Officer of MotoGP. Rossomondo said, essentially, that MotoGP doesn't just compete with other racing series, it competes with going out for a walk, listening to music, and all the other things you could do on a Sunday instead of sitting down and watching a motorcycle race.

Was that more than just an innocuous quote? Maybe it's a hint of how Dorna and Liberty will make their case to various regulatory bodies to justify this merger.

Whether or not that's true, Liberty Media seems confident that they're going to pass regulatory approval. How exactly that'll happen remains to be seen - some have suggested that World Superbike will be sold off as a sort of sacrificial lamb to allow this to happen - but it now seems like MotoGP and F1 will very likely end up under the same ownership.

So...what does that mean for MotoGP?

Well, it means that the company that turned F1 into this trendy giant of a series is going to give some of that marketing love to MotoGP. That can only be a good thing - MotoGP is fantastic racing and it deserves more attention.

Will MotoGP see a move from historic venues to chase new markets? I would argue that it already has. Dorna has already been chasing emerging markets and a simple look at the calendar will show that - Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, India, etc, etc. Not only that, but that's arguably a necessary decision for MotoGP because, quite frankly, those are the countries that are buying motorcycles these days. 1000cc sport bikes? Not necessarily, but quite frankly, KTM doesn't even make a 1000cc sport bike, so MotoGP has become more of a showcase of the motorcycle industry rather than a marketing tool for a particular type of motorcycle.

Will this result in MotoGP chasing street circuits like F1 did? Well, Liberty Media has already said no, and as much as the word of giant corporations is worthless in 2024, simple safety concerns make it unfeasible. MotoGP needs a ton of space and big gravel traps to stop the bikes - and more importantly, the riders - in the kind of dramatic crashes that can happen in this sport.

What do I think will happen? Well, in the short term, not much, but come 2026, 2027 when circuit contracts start expiring, I suspect we'll lose a few existing venues - having four races in Spain presents an obvious opportunity for some trimming - and probably gain another race in the US (likely that Flatrock track in Tennessee) and if I had to guess, another one in East Asia, most likely China.

Maybe India will pave the way towards MotoGP reviving old, disused F1 tracks, and we could see the likes of South Korea and Istanbul Park added to the MotoGP calendar. If not MotoGP, then WSBK with a Turkish star in the form of Toprak Razgatlioglu really ought to consider it.

Anyway, the way I see it, the legitimate criticisms that F1 fans have with Liberty Media - being greedy, chasing new venues at the expense of historic ones, pushing the teams hard by constantly expanding the schedule - is all stuff that Dorna has already been doing. Even the complaints about the Drive to Survive drama, Dorna has tried two different DTS clones and neither one moved the needle. If you're going to be doing these things anyway, you might as well do them with the company that has at least been successful with it.

For now though, I have MotoGP coverage through Max and TruTV in the US, commercial free, and that's a dramatic improvement over how I had to watch the series last year. Dan Rossomondo's team has made MotoGP far more accessible and pleasant to watch already, and if that can continue under Liberty Media's ownership, then I hope this series that I've fallen in love with over the last year and a half can grow.

Thus, the overall verdict is...I'm cautiously optimistic.

[saintobio]

⊹₊ ⋆🏍₊˚⊹ ON TRACK.

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

▞▞ pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

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

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

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

Have you ever imagined Sukuna as a MotoGP rider? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” 

“Look at him! He’s perfect!” 

“Sukuna, marry me!” 

“I’ll give you my number later!” 

“God, I wanna hook up with him.” 

“Girl, me too!” 

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

“Count me in!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, shit!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank fuck!” 

“See? I told you he’s fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not funny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As cringe-worthy as that may sound. 

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

[graveltrapping]

Debutant | imortal

Female Marc Marquez

Previous | Next

Her first win of the season and Mar feels like she could live forever.

The day starts warm, sun high and golden, with the softest wisps of white cloud drifting lazily across the endless blue of the Austin sky. Its warms. The breeze, the sun, the ground beneath her feet. Everything heats her skin and makes it glow, her hair shine like ebony strips of silk. She feels rested. Content, for some reason, even as nerves bubble in her stomach and twist her gut. It’s a familiar feeling that she had learned to live with, that parasitic nervousness that came from experiencing something completely new. Pole position wasn’t new to her, she had taken it many times through 125cc and Moto2. She was more than comfortable sitting at the top of the pack. 

Pole position in a MotoGP race however?  

That was certainly new.

The 1000cc bikes were a whole new beast. Bigger, the engine vibrations bone rattling, and weighing nearly triple her body weight they felt like a mustang whenever she mounted it. Chomping at the bit to be let loose. Strong, demanding, fast. 

So fucking fast.

She felt like she was flying whenever she took off, front wheel threatening to lift, arms wanting to stretch out like wings and catch the breeze so she could go soaring towards that blue Texan sky. Join the eagles and vultures and songbirds that circled overhead. She knew she couldn’t, feet firmly rooted to the throttle, but she had always dreamed of flying when she was young.

She would say her pole lap has been the closest she’s ever come.

Blistering and blinding, she had been as fast and as aggressive as a falcon when she set her time. Pulling seconds and meters from thin air, cutting through corners and roaring down the straights like she was in some cavalry charge. Her bike had kicked and reeled like a wild stallion, but she had reined it in tight and rode like she always did and was rewarded with her first pole position of 2013.

That pole was quick to turn into a win.

She had lost positions in the first lap to Dani and Bradl, sweeping too wide into the corner and all but inviting them through, and then instantly had Lorenzo on her tail. He had been close, clawing the space between them down to nothing but Mar had done what she does best and threw any reservations to the wind. Bradl had been easy. Her and her bike, indistinguishable from each other the moment the engine had purred to life, had flew past him on the straight and dropped him into Jorge’s waiting jaws while she set her sights on Dani. He was a ways ahead, curled down into the frame of the bike, but she could see the slopes of his shoulders and set of his back every time she closed in on the breaking. Could almost reach out to touch him. She imagined that she saw his breathing, how his ribs expanded and contracted, the pull of his muscle as he moved the bike like an artist would their brush. She had always liked Dani. Had a crushed on him even, as Alex constantly reminded her, and she held him in a similar regard that she did Rossi.

It didn’t stop her from taking him though.

In the end she danced around Dani, sweeping down the inside to force him wide then slipping ahead to take the tighter line on the next curve and effectively shutting off any chance of him fighting back. It was fast and clean, no more aggressive than usual, but she could still feel the heat of his stare piercing through her leathers the moment her front wheel pulled in front of his. It was electrifying. She could feel the blood in her veins begin to bubble like lava, feel the sweat trickle down each dip and curve of her spine, could feel the purr of the engine trapped between her thighs. She revelled in the vibrations as they travelled down her legs and upper back, settling in her chest like the thumping of her heart. 

Corner after corner, lap after lap, she stole seconds from Dani until she was crossing the line more than two seconds ahead of him.

She shook in her seat, throwing her head from side to side like an overexcited dog, screaming with joy insider her helmet. It made her ears ring but she dint care. She bounced in the seat for a giddy moment as her own giggles bounced around her head before standing as tall as she could and stretching her arms towards the sky. Golden sunlight shone off of her leathers, twisting around her fingers like silken ribbons, before she collapsed back into the seat with a huff of exhaustion and pure exhilaration.

She had won.

She had won.

Dani was beside her a second later, hand reaching out to grasp her own briefly and give it a firm squeeze that she gave back just as tight, fighting the urge to intertwine their fingers and pull him closer. 

She couldn’t really resist that urge with Valentino.

He had come up behind her as she was taking in the sights of the grand stand, crowds drowned in her vibrant red and supporting colourful banners all branded with a big and bold 93. His hand had landed on her hip, squeezing just a small bit, before he held that same hand out for her. She shifted the grasp on her bike messily, fingers fumbling in their excitement, before raising her arm high and slapping her hand down against his. For a second the hold they had on each other slipped, but Mar squeezed her fingers tight around his palm and tugged him just a small but closer. Rossi went easily with her pull, knees just barely brushing, before pulling his hand back to tip an imaginary hat to her in a way that had Mar creasing against the bike in giggles. The touch had sent a jolt of adrenaline through her nerves and had her up celebrating once more, exhaustion forgotten. 

Effortlessly, she pulled the beast of a bike into a wheelie and roared down the straight.

The party only continued in parc ferme.

She was nearly dragged of her bike by the two men securing it, all three of them laughing and grasping at each other as they squished together in a tight hug, before she was freed from their arms to slip off the bike and almost crash backwards into Dani who patted her helmet gently and smiled at her through his open visor. She patted his arm just as gently before sprint as fast as she could towards the barriers where her team stood packed tight.

Trusting they’d catch her, Mar launched herself across the barriers and into the sea of white and orange that rose and swelled around her. Hands, all familiar, grasped at her legs and hips as they hoisted higher and nearly over their heads. They slapped her back and patted her helmet, someone pushing open her visor so she could really see the smiles and laughter all directed towards her, so she could see the absolute joy in the faces of the people supporting her.

When her feet finally touched the ground, Santis joy only satiated by lifting her and roughing her up a bit in retaliation for all the stress she caused him, a familiar face appeared in the crowd.

“Papa!” She cried out. 

Julia Marquez beamed as his daughter crashed into his arms, her smiling face freed from the helmet and those beautiful curls bouncing freely as he hauled her as close as possible, both laughing and beaming as the held each other. That smile seemed to only widen as Alex appeared from the crowd, hands grasping her own and smile just as blinding. Mar was older, had an intensity to her that Alex didn’t and couldn’t even pretend to have, but she folded into him easily with a gentleness she afforded no one else.

Even if she was drowned in champagne moments from now, Mar felt like she could do this forever.

Her first crash of the season and it nearly kills her.

She had been flying, moulded to the bike as she sailed down the straight, before something under her had clicked. It had lifted her in the seat slightly, rear lifting up and arms limp for a second before snapping into position and going rigid as she tried to wrench the bike into a turn. The suspensions screamed at her. She screamed at herself. The engine roared as the speed she carried seemed to double.

The wall she was heading towards grew bigger.

Again and again she wrenched the handles ,but the Honda continued to careen towards the cement barriers dead set on collision. Over 300 kilometres per hour, it drew nearer with every blink. 

She could see each letter of the advertisement speed by.

She could feel how her bike jumped, speeding from the track onto the grass.

She could see the moment the colourful banners disappeared to reveal cold and grey cement.

Mar jumped.

Well over 209mph, the young woman (girl, really) threw herself from the Honda into the grass as her bike ran for the wall. Simultaneously, they crashed. The bike crumpled and rebounded against the wall, scraping down the barrier until it finally hits the gravel and screeches to an abrupt sop. Mar follows not far behind. Air-bound for a second before she hits the grass and goes tumbling. The momentum carries her far, skipping like a rock over a lake, until she slides into the gravel and takes basically the same path as her bike did. She stops almost right beside it, both battered and matching.

She tried to get up a second later.

Like a wounded dog, she crawled in a direction she didn’t recognise as drool filled her mouth. She was panting, could feel her own breath warming her helmet, as the world around her pulsated in a way that had her stomach quivering. Eyes unless, everything spinning, she felt out the world with her hands. The gravel was sharp. Cold. Shifting under touch and leaving her stranded and lost.Her panting increased, ribs tightening. 

Hands were suddenly on her. Mar jerked in their hold, skin burning, but the hands cradled her and held her steady. Adrenaline burned through her and left her skin blistering, insides knotted and hot, she crawled almost away from the white blur that reached for her. More surrounded her like a mob, clean and sterile and blindingly bright. An animal sound escaped from her as the marshal finally got a steady hold on her and eased her back down. She fought it a little, unwilling to just stop.

Without really thinking, Mar reached for her bike.

A hand pressed to her chest when she tried to lift her torso up to watch as someone leveraged up her bike, a flare of vicious possessiveness igniting under her ribs, but it spluttered out when the stretcher she was suddenly on was lifted and the world pulsated in front of her aching eyes. She lost time after that, seconds slipping away from her, mind reeling and skulls seeming shrinking around her brain. Every face before her eyes swam, moving grotesquely, shifting into shapes she couldn’t really make out.  She recognised the inside of an ambulance at least.

She certainly recognised the inside of a hospital.

She recognised the burning chemical smell that permeated every corner of there room. She recognised the bone deep ache of a crash. She recognised the face hovering by her bedside.

“Papa” Mar croaked.

Julia Marquez smiled at his girl, still so little, and pushed a messy curl out of her face. He let his hand linger there, cradling her cheek as his eyes tracked over the only visible signs of her crash. A swollen chin covered in a purple mottling that warped and tugged at her face a bit, corner of her mouth discoloured with a chunk missing from under her chin. It would scar. Mar wouldn’t mind. She’d take it as a victory, a sign that her body was as teflon as her mindset. Win or nothing, a scar won’t make any difference to that. As much as he wished it did, a scar would change nothing. 

He swallowed heavily, eyes stinging, and gave his daughter a strained smile. 

Those clever brown eyes watched his face like a hawk. Tracked the click of his throat, how his breath caught, how he tried to hide the tiny tremor in his hand.

“Sore?” He hummed gently, stroking over her unblemished cheek. Mar leaned into the touch and nodded, lashes brushing her cheeks with each lethargic blink.

“I’ll get a nurse” He smiled he stood before wagging a playfully admonishing finger at his girl who already had a conspiring glint in her eye “Don’t. Move”

Mar turned her head to watch her father leave the room and in turn met the gaze of her brother.

He smiled at her, a little wobbly, a shuffled the white plastic chair he was in a bit closer so he could lean his torso against the gurney she was on. Both of them winced at the screech of the legs on the linoleum floors. Mar flinched further when the movement tugged at the scabs on her chin, hand flitting up to hover around the skin that felt ridged and bumpy and slightly hot with pumping blood. Alex’s eyes followed her hand.

“At least you can’t get any uglier” Alex joked weakly and Mar laughed, chin and jaw aching, before tears suddenly gathered in her eyes. She tried to push them down but her giggles broke into rough hiccups that shook the drops loose from her lashes and sent them down her cheeks. The mottled skin on her jaw stung when the salt met it.

Alex’s own face crumbled before he folded himself to her, face pressed to her belly and hands tangled together. She could feel his tears wet the hospital gown and turn it tacky against her skin.

“Sorry” He whisper. Mar only ran her fingers through his hair and held him closer.

She wasn’t scared that she had crashed, she was a notorious for it at this point, but the guilt of seeing her family crumble always had a pit opening in her stomach like nothing else did. She wouldn’t change. Racing was who she was, racing the way she did was a part of her. She couldn’t afford to drive sly and subtly like Dani did, couldn’t afford to be as surgically pressies as Rossi or even as patient as Lorenzo with his tightly wound aggression. It was move or be moved. Ride like her or simply get out of the way. Her family knew that, they had to live with it for almost 20 years at this point.

It still hurt seeing them scared for her, feeling what she couldn’t really feel for herself. 

Improvement was the only option. 

[42bakery]

If you know can you tell me the difference between the superbike bikes and the wwcr bikes? I’m new to this

Hi anon 👋👋👋👋

I don't know how much do you know about Superbikes in general, so let me explain a bit first. Superbike is a competition where street bikes race. Those bikes are a bit modify (some materials are substituted for fiber carbon, the breakes are different, etc) to make them go fast. The core of the bike is the street bike, and in fact you could buy them.

The World Superbikes championship is divided in 3 categories, WSBK (or World superbikes), WSSP (or World Supersport and once upon a time it was WSSP600) and WSSP300 (World Supersport 300). In WSBK the bikes have a 1000cc, in WSSP is 600cc and WSSP300. And because not all bikes have the same cylinder capacity, they do admit some variation like Kawasaki uses a 399cc in WSSP300 or Yamaha is a 321cc. Same happens in WSSP, not all bikes are 600cc, but they made them compatible by limiting top speed, torque and power).

Now what about the WWCR? Well they all use the Yamaha YZF-R7 that is a 689cc and actually qualifies to be in WSSP because MV Agusta uses a 798 and Ducati a 955cc (all info is from their web of each manufacture).

So what is the real difference? Misogyny. As simple as that. FIM wanted to 'promote' women in motorsport and created this.

Right now, Yamaha is the sole supplier with the R7 as I said before (you can check it in WSBK page too). However, Yamaha already has a capable bike to compete in WSSP, the Yamaha YZF R6. I think it was @aleixespargaro-apologist who pointed out that Yamaha is discontinuing the R6 production. And on top of that, the R7 (the WWCR one) is chapear than the R6 (WSSP). In the table below, there's a comparative between the bikes. (this is from the street bikes they sell, so be cautious because some data could be different taking into account the modifications they make to race).

But basically, the R7 is wider, longer and heavier than the R6 and with less power. So basically the difference is that WWCR is just plainly slower because Yamaha has wanted it.

Actually if you look at the lap times, the top riders where setting the same times as the top riders in WSSP300 is a bike, so congratulations Yamaha you have your new WSSP300 bikes.

Sorry for the rant there. Returning to your question, the difference is the cylinder capacity that translates as the engine capacity of the bikes.

I hope this helps, and if you have any more questions, my inbox is always open

[bra1nw0rmz]

*pokes you in the eyes in a very nice and kind way.* Person that made you plushie god here. (Can I have my children back? You stole dem, gimmy em back ples.) Ur pav biker au thingy I am hyperfictioning on it too much, ty for making me get the sillies from dat. Biker pav awsom. ANND BIKER LEVI ALSO IS COOL, I couldn't leave out my soggy dog core buddy.

Owwwe …… my eye

ALSO HI UM…… using this as an excuse to infodump about my biker au…………. I’m a slight nerd abt motorbikes and It’s pavlevi centred so it’s mostly about them

Levi

- Ok realistically he’d have an A1 licence due to being 18 in Europe which restricts the bikes you can ride which is LAMEEEE!!

- In Czech you have to be 24 to get an A licence, meaning you can ride whatever. But idk that feels like too much of an age jump when everyone else is the same age

- Most other places make it so you have to be 21, so I’ll just use that instead. Levi can be 21 in this au

- I mean honestly I could just get rid of the motorcycle licence tier thing all together

- It’s a modern au but cmonnnn Funger universe does not give a fuck about its youth… but eh it’s whatever

- Prefers bikes around 600-800 cc. Fast !! But not exactly death wish fast…….. I mean kinda but still

- He just likes being able to accelerate fast, he doesn’t speed too much

- The top speed he’ll go is 150-170 km/h but Pav coaxes him in races to go faster

- The type of biker that prefers to go on long drives for hourssssss

- He just likes to go on rides to clear his head :3

- Id say he’d have a Yamaha XJ900 Diversion. But I did think of a Yamaha XJ6 Diversion F too

- either way, a Yamaha fan

- I’m going with the XJ900 tho… but hey, maybe it was his first bike, got an older model for cheap and then after a while of dating Pav he got a XJ6 after persistent bugging to get a faster bike

- XJ6 is still comfy for long rides but lighter and faster… more sporty than touring (They are both sport touring bikes)

- I mean XJ6 is only like 10 km/h faster so still staying with the XJ900

- Coz the XJ900 is FAST, 900cc, a very all around good bike. XJ6 is 600cc but faster due to being lighter and more built for speed.

- And realistically he’d only have the XJ900 bc bro cannot afford 2 bikes!

- He is not made out of money and he is not selling his XJ900 !!!! it’s sentimental !!!!

- got sent to military school as a kid by his bitch ass father, so he’s a little fucked up still

- Lived in a community housing place for a while after military school as he found out his mother died and refused to move back in with his dad

- Lives in a small apartment building now

- It’s really small and Pav keeps coming over for long periods so he’s thinking of moving into a bigger place for the both of them

- Has definitely dabbled into drugs(heroin mainly) before but trying to get clean… the long rides help clear his head

- Works at a gun/hunting shop owned by August

Pav

- All his bikes are 1000cc or more bc he’s actually crazy

- Ofc only owns sport bikes, gives them all names too

- While he does go through a lot of bikes, because he crashes all the time and somehow never gets severely hurt, his go-tos are Honda or Kawasaki bikes

- His favourite and longest owned bike is the Kawasaki Ninja ZX-10R… because she was the fastest Pav owned and he has a death wish

- He named her виктория (viktoria)

- She got into a crash so she’s been sitting in Abella’s shop while Pav saves up to fix her

- Takes his side mirrors off to lane split better

- Was a squid before Levi came around (squids are people who don’t wear protective gear) but still only wears heavy protective wear on night rides when he goes super fast

- During these night rides he so takes his license plate off lmaoooo

- Averages 200-300 km/h on the rides 💀

- Does a lotta bike tricks for fun too

- Served in the military for almost a decade and a half before having to retire for an unknown reason but still getting paid (ooooo mysterious)

- Does odd jobs here and there for extra cash

- But um don’t ask where he gets all the money for his bikes !!!!! He’s super cheap in every other aspect of his life

- He’s milking randoms for their money for alcohol, food, fuel, etc lollll

- Pav has gotten kicked out of apartments a few times in which he would sleep on Daan’s couch at his bar

- the type to stare down cops and purposely speed in front of them so they chase him, always leaves them in the dust bc he drives like a maniac

- Got caught once because he didn’t realise a cop was following him and he stopped for gas

- Got out of the speeding charge by giving the cop a blowjob bc I think that’s hilarious 

- Anything to get outta spending money ig 🔥🔥🔥

- All his bikes struggle to not go over the speed limit so he has to backpack Levi when cruising around town

- Pav complains abt Levi being slow and Levi tells him to shut up lol

- purposely makes his exhausts louder than necessary because he’s definitely compensating for something

Daan

- owns a bar that motorcycle gangs frequent a ton

- It’s not even branded as a biker bar, nor is he a biker, it just naturally became one bc Daan doesn’t give a fuck about appearances and treats everyone the same

- Pav flirts with him constantly purely to try and get free drinks. Daan knows this and ignores him

- Marcoh works as the bouncer there (also a biker)

Abella

- local mechanic !!!! Pav’s go to when he can’t fix his bikes himself

- Pav will drop a completely totalled bike in her workshop and tell her to fix it and Abella will tell him to get the fuck out of her shop

- She also rides a motorcycle, I’m thinking a dirt bike of some kind?

- Definitely owns atleast a few different motorbikes though

- She’s an off road girlie at heart

Karin

- Pav smashed her side window clean off in a drive by after she didn’t let him pass her the road so she’s been trying to track him down for a while now

- just wanted to say her road rage is fucking terrible, you are scared for yours and other people’s lives if she’s behind the wheel

- still a journalist, still has anger issues

O’saa

- Owns an occult shop and rips people off with stupid card readings

- magic and stuff still exists btw, albeit heavily faded, he just overprices everything

- Marina works at the shop

- O’saa hardly even runs the shop tbh, it’s mainly Marina doing it

- He’s off doing fuck knows what

Other thoughts;

Pav has a really good poker face. And Levi is autistic so he just believes everything he says, not a single shred of doubt… and Pav is like… in awe……. He knows he’s good at lying but he’s just… Confused at how fast Levi believes him.

“Can I have a 20, I ran out of money and I need gas, I’ll pay you back.”

“ok”

“…….. this is the 6th time I’ve said that.”

“You said you’ll pay me back”

Pav feels guilty for the first time in his life so he actually does pay Levi back

Pav going on and on abt how much he hates cops (he got a speeding fine) and Daan is getting sick of it so he pulls out a photo of Pav in the military. Pav turns his head and refuses to look at it. He is like totally silent and Daan keeps on trying to get him to look at it and he just turns away more and more… Don’t ask how Daan has that photo

This is how Levi finds out Pav was in the military because Pav never says anything ever abt his life

ANYWAY THERES MORE BUT I FEEL LIKE I LOOK CRAZY RANTING ABT THIS AU SO ILL STOP