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saintobio · 8 months ago

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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.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #tattoo artist sukuna #biker sukuna #tattoo artist x florist au

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brailsthesmolgurl · 4 months ago

Text

"Who is this Karen?"

Preview: How the boys react to a Karen lashing out at you?

Warnings: Slightly longer read than usual, but you get to see how they talk smack to a Karen for disrespecting you :>

ZAYNE

You stood in line, awaiting for your turn to get into the popular restaurant that you and Zayne were planning to try out. Zayne had dropped you off in order to search for a parking spot, claiming that it is way more efficient for one to just wait in line. Right when it was about to be your turn, you stood up, smoothing your skirt and stepped up towards the reception table but someone had beat you to it, pushing you physically to get you out of their way, risking you nearly stumbling. "Hey." You reprimanded the lady in the big red coat, her head tilting towards you with a scrunched up frown on her face. "You can't just do that, you have to line up according to your turn."

The lady scoffed and simply waved her hand off, mocking you in a tone you had never heard from anyone in your life. "Apparently you do not know that this restaurant runs on a star rating don't you darling? First-comers like you should shut up and wait while VIPs like me deserve to be tended to first." You were in a state of disbelief, slack-jawed, fists tightened, ready to mutter a string of colourful curse words in front of this lady before a hand gripped onto your shoulders and you turned.

Zayne stood next to you, assessing the situation that he had spotted from afar as he was coming closer to the restaurant. "Are you alright?" He glanced down towards your legs, to spot for any injury but when he noticed nothing stood out, he rubbed your back as a comforting gesture before he stepped forth towards the woman. "Excuse me." He stated and the lady turned, with the same expression as the first time. "I believe you have to be in line. It wasn't right for you to push someone just to get in front of the line."

"You are not the restaurant owner, talk to me again and I will call the police." Her voice was up an octave now, clearly offended at the both of you calling her out on her mistakes. "This is a restaurant that runs on point systems! Do your research before coming onto me you brats!" Zayne seemed indifferent towards her, she is just like another patient of his that may be suffering a psychotic episode amidst treatment. It is no stranger to a doctor of his calliber.

"Scream much more, and you will get wrinkles on your face." Zayne drew air signs, marking out the spots on her face. His tone was collected, informative even. "Your lips are peeling and your skin is sagging on the edge of your jaw. If I were you, I would get myself checked out for any cardiac anomalies." His statement made the lady gasped in horror, hands immediately flying up to touch her cheeks. Zayne only took his phone out and showing her his medical ID. "Just some words of advice from a fellow cardiac surgeon. You should not delay any further, I think your heart requires immediate attention." He quirked an eyebrow and watched as the lady panicked, albeit judging him silently under her breath and stepping off to get back into her car (that was parked illegally by the street) to leave.

With the lady leaving, the both of you managed to secure your seats fairly quickly. Walking into the restaurant, you turned to ask Zayne about the diagnosis earlier on and he replied with a soft chuckle. "It works once you flash them the ID." He pulled out the chair for you as he always would, waiting for you to be seated before he continues, seating himself down. "No harm in fighting stupidity with stupidity."

RAFAYEL

"So, today we will be going to this beach that I had always been talking about. Are you excited?" Rafayel turned his head over to you when he is at a red light, smiling at you and taking your smaller hand into his. He placed a chaste kiss onto the back of your hand and proceeded to rev his engine when the lights turned green. The date had been planned for more than a week as Rafayel was busy with exhibitions and you too, with your own work. Hence, when the time comes for the both of you to meet, it is only natural for your boyfriend to plan for a romantic getaway.

Approaching the beach, you could taste the brine in the air when Rafayel had opened the roof on his convertible to let you get a better view of the ocean. The seas are mimicking the skies, one owning dashes of sparkles while the other has fluffy cotton balls hung on them, both adding up to be a picturesque scene. It was a right choice for Rafayel to make judging by how enamoured you are with the scene ahead of you. He revved into a driveway and parked right next a red sedan, alerting the lady next to them. "Who do you think you are?" She immediately questioning, sunglasses pushed up onto the top of her head when she squinted her eyes to get a better view of the both of you. "You are going to hit my car!"

Rafayel nonchalantly got out of the car, hands thrown up in an act of surrender. "Lady, calm down. We mean no harm." He then sauntered over to your side to open your side of the door, holding his hand out for you to take, all while still trying to hold a reasonable conversation with the lady who had not stopped accusing him of wanting to hit her car. "As I've said lady, I do not have the wish to hurt anyone. I apologise if my skills scared you." Due to his indifference, it only got the Karen riled up, stomping out of her car and coming right up to both of you. Rafayel instinctively shielded you, his height still towered over the woman.

"THIS IS MY BEACH AND YOU DO NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO TRESSPASS, YOU HEAR ME YOUNG MAN?!" She angrily pointed a finger at him, her bikini suggested she is here for the beach as well. "So it is either you both get the hell out of here, or I am calling the cops." Grabbing her phone out of her small clutch, she begin dialing the number on it and pressing it to her ear. You looked towards Rafayel with a worried expression, but he only held a smirk as he listened in on her conversation. "Yes! This man with a convertible is trying to kill me in a crash--yeah, okay you talk to him!"

Then she handed her phone over to Rafayel, which he took into his hands and pressed it against his ear. For a man who seemingly 'broke-the-law', Rafayel is not taunted. "Hey there, yeah. Yeah that's me. Yeah, she is claiming that this beach belongs to her." His eyes glinted a hint of playfulness, smile widening at the Karen. "Can I report this for tresspassing or...okay, yeah, I'll call you back if she starts anything on MY BEACH." Specifically emphasising his words, the woman choked onto her breath, looking at Rafayel as he gave her back her phone and tilting his head, still smiling. "A word of advice, next time, if you're gonna play with fire, just be ready to get burned, yeah?"

SYLUS

Sylus would rather be surrounded by thousands of the strongest wanderers now than to be in the grocery store with you right now. This burly, manly man does not see himself to be a fitting piece of a puzzle within a grocery store. Everywhere his eyes darted, he catches sight of men with beer bellies pushing carts with babies while referring to a long, floor-panning grocery list, or a mother who has too many children to provide welfare for, or maybe a family where most of the time the wife is the ruler of the house. No, Sylus is not a sexist, he just holds too much of an ego for his masculinity that he feels like he does not belong in a grocery store. Staring down at you, he sighed inwardly. Regardless of what he had thought of, what he held as a belief, here he is still, nothing different than those wife-pleasers he witnessed littered all over the store.

“How long are we going to be here for?” He groaned, holding up the basket slightly higher when you had gotten your pick of the better watermelon. “N109 does not run by itself given its current glory you know.” His mockery only got you rolling your eyes at him. You would admit, he is a scary man for the eyes, but once you had gotten to know him, gosh, this man would bow to puppy eyes and wheedling words. Feeling your throat getting scratchy again, you pointed at the vitamin water that was placed in the basket and Sylus cracked open the cap then handed it to you. You gulped the drink down your throat, trying to gain moisture to rid it of the scratchy feeling before you felt someone tapped on your shoulder and you turned around.

The lady who tapped your shoulder was skinny, body the shape of a trunk and with hair so blossoming that Sylus may have outwardly mocked her to be a tree. But the man does watch his mouth whenever he is around you. “Young lady, you can’t drink from the bottle like that without paying for it! That is called stealing!” Her loud exclamation got some people turning their heads and you could feel the embarrassment crawling up your back. You fumbled with the cap and was about to say sorry before your boyfriend took up the space next to you, his 6”2’ height made the woman looked like a garden gnome, with weird tree-like hair.

“Why can’t she? She is paying for it afterall.” The corners of his lips curled up, but it resembled an amused smirk rather than a smile as he watched the lady below him started to act out. If he were to be alone right now, there is no doubt that this woman would perish before she could utter another word. But, as what he had always believed in, violence is only to be utilised strategically. And using it on this lady, in front of you, in a public area, would result in serious consequences, so he decided not to. But, this does not mean he would back down either.

“You are supposed to buy things before you consume them. Don’t you know how the law works?” The lady was clearly pissed, voice raising even higher to create a scene. “I am going to call the store manager on you to get you and your girlfriend reported for stealing!” At this rate, she would only cause more trouble than necessary. Sylus simply clicked his tongue with a ‘tch’ and he tilted his head slightly, his right eye taking colour of a bright scarlet. Then, you watch as the woman in front of you tripped over nothing and she fell face-first. You gasped, wanting to go forward to help her but an unseeable force held you back and it got you figuring out the cause of her trip. Sylus was using his energy manipulation skills to get her to practically trip on air.

“Let’s go.” Without wasting anymore time, he grabbed onto your hand, his smirk widening as he lead you to walk through the aisles to get to the counter to check out your items. When he was confronted with why he did that, the confident man simply quirked up one of his thick eyebrow and retaliated. “You think I would back down easily if anyone comes at you like that princess? I would downplay the act of punishment for your sake, but I won't stay idle like a trophy husband sweetie.”

XAVIER

Xavier had came up with the idea to bring you along for some clothes shopping for the upcoming team building event which involves a masquerade ball. A couple of days ago, he had to sit through hours of you sifting through your closet, looking for any gowns that could be reused for the second time until you reached the realisation that you do not own a gown because 1) it’s not practical and 2) it’s a huge waste of money and 3) it does not fit your usual aesthetic for clothings.

"How about this one?" Xavier asked when he pointed at a store with ball gowns being displayed at their windows. Observing your hesitation to step into the store, he grabbed onto your hand and started leading you towards it. The pull was a bit of a drag however as you were stumping your feet onto the ground from wanting to enter such a boujee store. God knows how much those dresses would cost. "It's alright y/n, I will pay for it okay? You don't have to fret about a gown for days. Come on."

After getting assisted by the salesperson, you had managed to pick out a few outfits and you slotted yourself into one of the fitting booths to try them on. At the meantime, Xavier sat on the bench outside, scrolling through his phone mindlessly while he waited for you. He noticed a shadow loomed over him and he looked up, seeing a lady in her mid-40s looking down at him. "Is someone in the fitting booth?" Xavier nodded his head in return, stating that his girlfriend is inside. "Can you ask her to hurry up a little? I am pressed for time and I need to try on this outfit."

"Guess you will have to wait till she is done. She is only at her first dress." Xavier spoke calmly, already sensing discomfort from the way the lady had spoken to him. The curtain to the fitting booth then slid opened and you stepped out, adorning a blue sequin dress that matches the shade of Xavier's irises and he smiled in return, standing up and blatantly ignoring the lady as he walked up to you, gesturing his finger for you to turn and to show him the full outfit.

It was a sweet moment until you were interrupted. "Can you hurry up missy? I am in a rush and I need to try this on." She held up a dress in her hand, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "FYI, this dress does not fit you, you look fat in it." Your eyes were widened immediately when the lady mocked you. When you turned to Xavier, he too, bear the same expression as you but he was quick to recover.

"I don't think that is a nice thing to say when you should be the one to look at yourself in the mirror." His jab at the lady made her face immediately turned red, all adrenaline rushing towards her head. Xavier crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head while sighing. "I guess there is no need for you to try on that dress of yours, because I'm pretty sure it won't fit you."

And the next thing you know, the lady was rambling, shouting towards the employees for being mistreated but here you stood, next to Xavier, who is not one bit phased by her behaviour. Your boyfriend only watches the show unfold in front of him, and pats the top of your head, smiling at you. “She started it first, I figured if it wasn’t for her, I would have fell asleep waiting for you to be done with your fittings.” And you gave him a hard punch against his shoulder.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus

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fraugwinska · 6 months ago

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I tried my hands on an Human!Alastor fic ;> It's still very different to write for Human Al, but I hope y'all like it ;> Special thanks to @hurthermore for beta-reading and encouraging me <3 This one's for you, love! !! NSFW - Heavy Smut Ahead, Minors DNI - 6k words !!

„You need technical assistance, sir?“

Alastor looked up from the papers on his desk, adjusting his glasses that slipped down the bridge of his nose. He didn't expect her to come in this late, or at all, not while he was still at the station. The curious little sound engineer that had started half a year ago was standing at his office entrance, hands in the pockets of her outrageous trousers. She was tiny, her small figure barely filled the door frame, even with her bulky tool bag that hung from her shoulders. Alastor leaned back in his seat, folding his hands, focusing his tired gaze on her defensive expression.

She was a novelty, that one. Not the first woman working at the station of course, but the first to assert herself in the male-dominated field of technical engineering. Her male colleagues saw the spunky, brass girl as a joke, either ignoring her or trying (very amateurishly) to bed her – both which didn't faze her at all meeting both scenarios with the same contemptuous indifference. The women – secretaries, errand girls and concierges – were much more organized and refined in their bullying. Shortly after her arrival rumors had already spread, one more abstruse than the other, and they had collectively decided to pretend the engineer didn't exist in their periphery. More than once he witnessed her talking to his own secretary Ruth, just to be left standing while Ruth got up and walked out with the other girls to lunch in the middle of her sentence.

The little engineer took it all in stride, though. Never complained, never became outright disrespect- or revengeful. Gradually, her expressions steeled, her answers shortened and her work hours shifted to evenings or nights, with less people to run into.

Alastor had been fascinated by her the moment they first met. He had just started his usual 'Saturday Golden Hour', his favorite and most popular segment to host, broadcasting the newest releases of jazz and swing in the evening, just before sundown. Not even ten minutes in, right after he started playing Bing Crosby's new song 'Dancing in the Dark', listeners started calling the station by the handful, complaining about horrific feedback's and sudden blackouts. While Alastor watched Rufus Ellis, the head of the tech team, frantically run around, yelling at his workers, the little engineer had wordlessly grabbed a few tools and vanished. Five minutes later, his broadcast went back to working perfectly, sound crisp and quality flawless once again. She had returned, put back the tools from where she had taken them, and when Ellis – flabbergasted – asked her what she had done, she had calmly explained that she went up on the roof to check the transmitters connected to the radio tower and fixed a broken generator that had malfunctioned due to some doves nesting in it.

No one thanked or even acknowledged her, they just shrugged and went back to business as usual. But Alastor didn't forget, and from this day he was determined to find out more about this extraordinary girl. She reminded him of his own struggle as the exception to the rule – it was a well-kept secret throughout the station exactly what Alastor looked like and who he was. That was the only reason he was able to do what he felt was born to, a cruel, unfair compromise. So, he felt an unusual sympathy for her, in addition to just his natural curiosity for oddities. However, he didn't expect her to be so elusive.

Whenever he tried to engage her in a conversation, she gave short, finite responses, avoided his eyes and hurried to get away from him, sometimes even bordering on rudeness in her haste to flee from him. Alastor was, to be frank, perplexed - his charm usually drew in the ladies unwantedly. That it had failed him now, with the little engineer, when he welcomed it for a change? Peculiar. To a degree, it angered him, but it also awakened his hunting instinct, just not the one he was used to.

“I'm afraid so, dear.”, Alastor smiled, standing up. He rounded his desk, hands behind his back, and went to her side, looking down a t her. Granted, he was a tall man, but next to her, he felt almost gigantic, which satisfied him in a strange way. “I noticed my microphone was acting up today, and would like you to take a look at it, if you don't mind. Before it decides to give up on me mid-broadcast.”

“That's my job, sir.”, she just answered, eyes intensely staring at the carpet. Alastor's eyebrow twitched in slight aggravation. But he lead her to his booth, unlocking it to let her in. She went straight to his seat, dropping her tool bag next to it and started to pull his microphone to her to inspect it. He quietly closed the door, locking it discreetly – just as a precaution so she couldn't flee him again so easily, now that he finally had her in his vicinity.

Alastor walked over to her, leaning over her shoulder to watch her carefully taking the device apart. She startled when she saw him out of the corner of her eyes. “It may take a while, sir.”, she mumbled, an obvious attempt to make him leave. Alastor laughed. “I've got nowhere to be, dear, take your time.”, he said with a hint of mischievous delight. He heard her scoff, turning back to her work. There was a prolonged silence, her fiercely ignoring Alastor's quiet, content humming while her fingers picked apart and put together parts and cables. He used the time to analyze her appearance – her hair was smooth but more unkempt than for a girl her age – how old must she be? Twenty, maybe Twenty-one? Vanity surely wasn't a flaw of hers, she didn't wear much make-up and Alastor saw various faint, light scars on her arms and hands, little bookmarks of mishaps and failures of her chosen career – the sight of them sent a sick shiver down his spine. Given his... hobbies, he found twisted appeal in scarred skin, finding beauty in those white, shimmering lines where blood once dripped from. He roamed her supple, curved body – unlike the recent fad of skinny, androgynous frames she was built womanly, round and fleshy... how beautiful could he paint her with white streaks on this vast canvas, add some masterpieces of his own to the collection?

“Alright.”, she pulled him out of his thoughts, mounting the microphone back on it's flexible stand. “A few cables were starting to corrode, I've replaced them, it should work fine now.” Alastor grinned down at her, putting one of his hands on her shoulder. The first real contact. “What an efficient engineer you are, dear. Always coming to my rescue, I have yet to show my gratitude.” She didn't look up, didn't even acknowledge that he said something to her, just packing up the various things she had spread out for the repair. Now that was just rude.

“Hello? Is this thing on?”, Alastor strained himself to sound lighthearted as he knocked two times on her head, feeling the shivers of impatience rising. The engineer closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, shifting in his chair with furrowed brows. “I'm getting paid to do my job. I don't need anything else.” She attempted to stand up, but his hand, still resting on her shoulder, holds her in place. “If that's all, sir?”

“Now now, not to hasty. I'd think it's unlike you to leave work halfway done. Normally you are quite thorough, aren't you?” Alastor cooed, tilting his head at her. “My work is done.” she said, her voice now intense and a faint tint of red on her cheek and neck. My, there's the little ferocity he thought she'd lost at the job. “Why we haven't tested the thing, dear – How can I be sure it works properly?”

“Because I know what I'm doing.” She looked outright offended at the implied possibility that she failed the task he asked of her. He had to chuckle, such a childish reaction to something so innocent. Maybe it was because implications like these grated her thick skin, but Alastor had no problem with being the straw that breaks that camel's back. He was skilled in putting people back in their place, and with her, it would be much more entertaining and much less fatal than with his other... acquaintances. He decided to tickle this sleeping dragon just a bit more, with a funny little idea in mind.

“No one is infallible – especially when they are so young. No fault in that, dear, but I'd like to be sure.” Alastor swiftly grabbed her wrist, pulling her up to stand. Putting up no resistance, most likely because of sheer perplexity, he twirled her almost like in a dance, side-stepping to his chair, and sat down, pulling her onto his lap, locking her there by an arm wrapped around her waist. The look on her face was worth it's weight in gold – eyes wide, mouth agape in stunned shock, and tips of the ears reddened. Her hands grappled the armrests so forcefully her knuckles were as white as the scars on her arms, and within seconds of regaining her active conscience she squirmed against his body. “What... that's so... sir, please let me g...” “There you go, dear.”, Alastor ignored her babbling, using his free hand to put the headphones on her. Her pulse under her thin, clear skin drummed faster against him, it's heat felt like it could boil his own blood.

He grabbed his own microphone, swinging it up between their faces and leaned forward, chin resting on her shoulder and the grille brushing his lower lip. She stared, dumbstruck, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead. He chuckled against her cheek, leaning his mouth to the mic as he pushed the switch on the control panel up, and his rich, sultry baritone echoed in her headphones.

"How about it, darling, do you hear me?"

She breathed deeply, gulping, and her heart sped up even more. Alastor smiled devilishly against her soft skin, delighted and in awe by how far he got her worked up as she just nodded sharply.

"No soundrops, feedback or small interferences?", he hummed, his voice dripping sweet honey. She took a moment to answer. "N-no... everything seems alright."

"Lovely." He almost whispered, but she heard it crystal clear through the headphones. He let a low sigh and took off his glasses with one hand, slowly, teasingly, his nose tracing over her neck, as if it was coincidental, as if he'd never ever do such a thing intentionally, putting the accessory on the table next to him, eyes locking on the hazel ones of hers mirrored in them. "Although I wonder..." He pushed the mic nearer to her mouth, seeing a tremble running over her body. "... if the higher pitches might be a problem... You wouldn't mind help with that, would you?"

She stiffened up, barely daring to breathe, her skin erupting into goose flesh underneath his lips, he felt the impulse to press them against her, lick the salt and nervousness from it.

"Sir, I-I can't.."

He chuckled at her strained, whispering voice. How beautiful was her distress, so rich, so fragrant, almost strong enough for him to savor its essence without even needing to touch her.

"Then, may I assist you?", Alastor felt himself giddy with impish delight, his hands slowly trailing upwards from her waist to her bust, cupping her gently through the thin fabric. This made her wriggle again, a small, high pitched squeak leaving her lips that his microphone just amplified in glorious reverberations. Alastor chuckled darkly as she froze, neck burning red in deep embarrassment from the sound she heard from the headphones.

"Now we're talking. A wonderful first try. But let's see what else we can get out of you, darling. After all, we want to be thorough."

His hands palmed and kneaded the supple flesh through the cotton, feeling her squirm and tremble and the warmth of her bosom, imagining the blood rushing through her heart. How exquisite was she?

He could hear a small whimper as her head slightly lowered. Was she closing her eyes? He imagined it so. Imagined she'd shut her pretty eyes closed, furrow her brows in conflict as her legs pressed against each other in fruitless desperation. Her hands tightened on the armrest.

"You are so very quiet, dear. Why don't you relax and turn the volume up for me?"

With one of his hands he quickly loosened the two buttons that kept her blouse close and tugged at the collar to widen the neck hole, then slid under her brassier and gripped one breast with a tight squeeze. Alastor caught his breath as he realized just how sensitive and sweet the freckled skin under his fingertips was. Soft. Warm. So fragile... He would never have imagined this was hiding under her daily uniform, her sagging shoulders and loose jacket hiding those lovely features. Alastor felt a delightful spark crackle in his head and shoot up the nerves of his spine. His hunting instinct pulsed under the mask. But... with a slight delay, Alastor recognized it as a different type of hunger... one of the carnal and more depraved kind. Another novelty for him.

Alastor suddenly wondered what her lips tasted like, how soft and warm would they feel on his, her teeth biting, her tongue teasing him. How many ways could he break her - and could he do it quickly, with his bare hands, with his words alone maybe, or with his undisciplined arousal pushing against her rear-end through the fabric of his trousers? How often did she think of him? How did she think of him? Did she fear him, or dislike him even? He could hear her breathing hasten as he was trying to compose himself.

There was the devil's urge to just let himself go. To shove the equipment aside and tear those outrageously inadequate clothes away from her flesh, run his hands over the skin he didn't get to see yet, trace and map those scars of hers until they fade underneath his fingers. Mark her more thoroughly than any machine mishap ever could. Make her cry, moan, beg and whine under him until there was nothing left in her and this novel hunger was satisfied.

A wonderfully loud moan escaped her, a sweet, silky, vibrato sound of passion, that went right from Alastor's chest into his pelvis. She opened her eyes wide, pressing her hand firmly over her mouth, mortified at her own pleasure.

Oh, Alastor thought to himself, smiling mischievously as the shock of lustful rapture coursed through him, how easy it was for him to undo her. So unexplored, so fresh... "Do you wish to stop, darling?", he asked with a teasing pinch of her hardened nipple, which made her cry out and her other hand fly up and cover her mouth, too. She shook her head, her cheeks flushed and hot, eyes hazed with confused pleasure. He rubbed and teased the nipple gently in his palm, holding her close, making her struggle in defiant silence. The only sound was his gentle, patient humming.

But oh, she was breaking, crumbling like a stale beignet, and the noises his hand bullied out of her turned from hushed whimpers to barely muffled groans and cries for him, long and wanting 'Sir's and 'Oh's. She was melting under his palm. He grinned wickedly, his lower body hard and wanting against her as he put the microphone to his own lips again and spoke into it.

"Say it with your words, dear, should I stop? Or is it that you can't hear me?"

"Y-yes! I mean... No sir... d-don't... stop." There was a suppressed crack in her voice, and Alastor sighed with lust at her gasping affirmation, grinding against her plushy backside. He has found it amusing to push her limits, break through her thick skin and riddle her, like an ice pick cracking open a glacier. And now it would shatter her so gorgeously. "It's Alastor, darling." He whispered into the microphone with a dragging, sultry voice, his hand retreating from her breast, only to snake it's way to the hem of her pants. Her legs twitched, pushing together to futilely protect her modesty, but her body eagerly arched in a way that gave such easy way for his fingers to slip under the garments, feel and stroke the short, coarse hair, following it's trail, only to meet soft, silken and slippery wetness. A startled gasp escaped her and the only reason she didn't leap up was because Alastor kept his firm grip on her waist, pulling her tight against his throbbing erection. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, exposing her delicate throat as she whimpered, hands flying from her mouth to the armrests again, gripping so hard her fingernails dug into the hard wooden surface.

He tried to restrain himself but couldn't, he testily bit into the thin, soft flesh of her neck as his fingers found their way into her entrance and dipped deep in, coating his palm in generous wetness and crooking, exploring carefully, but with a patience even he was surprised at, eyes fixated on the taut fabric as he thrust into her in tandem with the waves her body undulated at the new sensation, her sweet taste on his tongue.

"S-Sir, please...", she groaned against his hand that still remained pressed over her lips, as if it could suppress the bliss Alastor wrought her into. He withdrew his hand for a moment, fingers wet, glistening and slick, as she was breathless, but she couldn't hide how her hips were chasing his retreating touch. He leaned into the microphone, barely lifting his mouth from her neck.

"Say my name, and I shall listen, little engineer."

She hesitated for just a heartbeat, before opening her eyes, hazily staring at the ceiling as Alastor patiently waited, his fingers drawing idle circles around the sweet pearl on her outer folds. She pressed her lips together for a second, seemingly mentally preparing herself, and then opened her mouth, to give in, to submit to him.

"...A-Alastor, please..."

"I like the sound of my name from your lips, darling." He almost purred in return and resumed his movements with added vigor and focus. He put down his head on her shoulder, nuzzling into the juncture of her throat, watching her reaction and every detail of how his hand worked her over with the rhythmic hump of his hips, forcing him to breathe harshly as he was starting to be deprived of blood. He had barely noticed it, how incredibly erotic and sinful this whole thing felt not just for her, but for him, too. Partly of course, because of the chase, the coaxing, the hunt to have her call and writhe for only him, not for any of these imbeciles that tried to get their pick with her, his ears pricked and eager to savor her wanton sounds... A surprising need to be connected, closer to her than anyone ever could be in her whole life, and it made him even giddy to know no man had touched her like he was doing now, taking her purity with ease and glee.

But there was another part, something he thought slumbered too deep within him to be ever awoken, a roaring fire in his guts as the alluring, delicious scent of her arousal assaulted him like a siren's song, lulling, cajoling him with sensual desires to drown in them, to abandon all else and indulge, to completely give in and surrender. It wasn't tactical, calculating or strategic, but wild and primal and primitive, and not at all as painful or awkward to him as he had always thought it'd be.

What a revelation a woman's body could be.

He almost missed her coming into his eagerly working hand - a sudden, full-body twitch that went through her spine, a whine in her voice that ended in a choked sound as her orgasm claimed her and washed her away in the torrent of rapture - eyes going wide as the air escaped her in a desperate cry, hands gripping his thigh and the chair's armrest so hard the nails left little scratches in the wood. He barely had time to notice it before her climax hit him like a truck - the convulsing of her inner walls, gripping and spasming tightly around his fingers as he slowed and stroke out her high.

This moment was pure madness in his veins - his head foggy and airy, like a drug, like a vicious new addiction he would do almost anything for. Her body went slack against him, and the only thing that held her upright was Alastor's arm still securely around her, still keeping her pressed onto his hard length, still pulsing for some release of his own. Alastor wanted more, already was plotting what his hands could be doing to her body next as she came down from her high and back to earth, the heat leaving her body slowly as the soundproofed air trapped within the booth hung heavy with her hot breath and the smell of her passion.

The first movement of hers, after having come undone so beautifully for and on him, was to lift up the headphones.

"Well then, little engineer.", he huffed into her ear, laughing with barely hidden delight. "What is your final assessment?"

"Your microphone works perfectly. J-just like I said it would." She was determined, if nothing else. And unbearably cute when she was defiant. Alastor simply adored a fiery spirit, even as he was already thirsting for more. He looked up, her sharp tone prickling his pride. He shot her a glare from the corner of his eyes, his usually calm smile tugging upward in a half smirk as she avoided his eyes. Oh, was she starting to have second thoughts about her tone towards him?

"I always admired your work ethics and knowledge, my dear, even though you eluded my attempts to give you your well-deserved recognition." The hand not occupied in playing with her still moist, delicate flesh lifted the arm that she had still buried in his thigh, brushing his fingers lightly over her knuckles as he brought it to his lips. She went still as a stone under his fingertips. "I asked myself, what would be the reason you ignored and evaded me for so long? Do you dislike me that much, little engineering girl?"

"No." It took her a moment, a little quiver in her voice, but it seemed like this was the first time in a long while that her answer was as blunt and truthful. He sighed contentedly, planting a soft kiss on her hand. "Quite the contrary, in fact."

His eyes snapped to her, narrowed. She still refused to look at him, still tense and obviously embarrassed, her free hand trembling on her lap. So it hadn't been animosity that made her behave so coldly towards him, not aversion that made her flee his presence and not prejudice that made her avoid their encounters but...

"Ah." Alastor chuckled softly at her awkward behavior, grinning delightedly at the revelation. "Of course."

Shyness was a curious thing, he thought, often misinterpreted as either prude modesty or cold antipathy. And it seemed Alastor had fallen for the latter interpretation - he would've been miffed at the thought if it hadn't brought her here, into his lap, and into his hands - alas, better late than never, he guessed. And there was still something to take care of.

"Well, since you're not running from me now..." His hand left hers and joined his other one in pulling the belt of her pants open, gently tugging on the metal buckle until the strap slipped free. "Let me finally show my gratitude in kind, for the lovely engineer and her marvelous work."

He loosened his tight grip on her, enough so that he could turn her to face him - for once, she glanced at him from under her lashes, not only out of bashfulness now - but he thought he saw something like cautious anticipation there, too. His grin became even wider as she kept his gaze, even if barely. A last stubborn act of shy rebellion - in another situation it would have enraged Alastor, but now, he was delightfully fascinated and challenged by her stubborn nature, by the unpredictability of her reactions even now, as she herself hooked her fingers under the hem of her pants and pushed them down over her shapely hips.

The last barrier of decency fell between them, revealing the full picture before him - there was her reddened face framed by cascading locks, eyes lowered in embarrassed defeat; Her stiffened nipples prominent on her perky, tight breasts; The damp patch of dark pubic hair that barely hid her glistening privates and the plush roundness of her thighs. And the whole body covered in tiny, white streaks, healed cuts and burns scattered in between her freckles. Oh, she would be delightful to ruin over and over again.

He took a step towards her, his hands immediately moving to her hip, exploring, caressing the soft flesh. This time, she did not move away from his touch and watched him with big, wide-blown eyes, full of expectation and a new type of uncertainty as he lifted her up onto the main control panel. He discarded of his jacket, the cloth too heavy and hot for him now, and threw it aside carelessly, leaving his bow tie hanging loosely around his neck as he went back to the woman, his little prey. Her knees parted slightly when his body wedged between them, an inviting gesture from her, though Alastor suspected she herself didn't notice. He grinned darkly, lifting her chin up by a finger, before bending over and planting a firm but restrained kiss on her lips, feeling his own skin crawl in electric stimulation, eager to finally taste her. His hands made quick work of his slacks, freeing his almost painfully erect member with a pleased sigh. From the way she gasped and her eyes widened, he could easily deduct that she had less to no experience whatsoever.

Oh, what a fortune. Alastor relished the thought of claiming precious, well kept treasures, his breath quickened as he broke from the kiss, hands running over her heated skin in swift, soothing motions, goosebumps trailing in their wake as he felt her shudder with hesitant desire beneath him. Oh, this would be fun.

"Let's be sure you'll hear my message loud and clear, this time, hm?"

He took her mouth again before she could protest, discreetly angling the microphone down with one hand just near enough where she would soon enough be connected to him. With a sly grin, he lined himself up to her waiting entrance and slowly pushed in. She stiffened at the unfamiliar invasion, a mewl muffled against his lips and hands in his shirt, and he stilled, enjoying the way her body reflexively tightened and squeezed around him as she tried to cope with the sensation of him stretching her.

She gasped as her chest heaved from the feeling, her walls convulsing around him like a vice. He allowed a low groan to escape him, she felt so gloriously tight and hot he had trouble keeping his composure, hands twitching to rut into her and just plow through.

"Ready for the final test, darling?"

"T-test...?"

He didn't bother to give her an answer as he started to move. In and out, with slow and drawn out movements, keeping his thrusts shallow at first, deep and precise enough to press against her innermost point and making her moan helplessly. The wet sounds of their coupling reached his ears, coupled with her wanton cries, an obscene and enchanting noise he was waiting for. With a mischievous smile, he picked up the headphones from where she had put them down, lifting it to one of her ears. Her face flushed in such lovely shades of red when the squelching echoes of what the mic picked up reached her ears, amplified and oh-so-clear thanks to her own handiwork.

He let out a guttural chuckle as he leaned into her, still thrusting slowly, her head falling on his shoulder and hanging onto his shirt for dear life, knuckles white as she could hear all the sweet sounds their bodies made and how they connected, each inch of her body singing praises for only him, for his size and rhythm. He could tell the moment her walls began to relax around him, squeezing the blood into his member as she took him in again and again, accepting it's size wholeheartedly with greedy eagerness.

"Such a talented woman.", he praised into her free ear, sighing at the delicious way her slick, swollen lips slid over his length, her thighs twitching against his with every single thrust and every word that fell from his lips. "Just listen to the fruits of your impeccable labor, dearest. Almost wasted in a place like this."

A moan, shaky and delirious, a shuddering sob for him, so high and flustered she sounded almost pained escaped her throat. She pressed against him and with a jolt that reverberated through her spine, convulsing so sweetly against him he almost came from the tremor that rushed through his cock. But it wasn't her peak. Alastor hadn't gotten his fill yet and he wouldn't stop now until it was both of their turns, but damn if he wasn't tempted.

He reached to the other ear to put the second headphone on her. Now her world had no escape, she could only listen, only hear every filthy wet noise of his slick slide, his ragged breathing and the beat of her own heart- a heavy, cacophonous staccato.

Her eyes were heavy-lidded, head clouded and flushed, looking up at him with rapt fascination. His own gaze met hers as his pace increased, suddenly snapping his hips with harsh precision, and his voice was low, carnal.

"But their loss is my gain, darling. Don't you ever forget that, now."

And his thoughts went to of those incompetent, thickheaded dunderheads who took their jobs, but were no where as skilled or invested as her, knowing full well they were inadequate and undeserving to get close to her, trying to touch what clearly should have been for him alone to do, and it sent a nasty spark of possessiveness through Alastor, igniting a furious hunger, a beast waking up within him and snarling with unbridled desire, to claim, to mark her as his. And nobody else's.

He grinned devilishly, a low rumble in his throat as a needy whine escaped his little engineer and he grabbed her waist tightly, digging his fingers into the fat there as he picked up speed and drilled into her with more intensity, savage, merciless and utterly ruthless, finally throwing all composure and rationality overboard to replace it with feral instinct and possessive desire. Her hands clutched him desperately, thighs tensing and pressing against his moving hips, her choked cries of his name were nothing else but heavenly and he was filled with lecherous obsession and greed - yes, he could get addicted to the sound of his name being screamed and moaned from her lips, her sweet, wet flesh fluttering around his throbbing length, the violent stuttering of her breath that just enticed and pleaded him to continue.

"Mine. My own, little, eager engineer." he hissed against the shell of her ear, headphones slipping from her, hips still pounding away at her heat with feverish pace and an undeniable pleasure coiling low and tightly within his pelvis. With every harsh thrust, every desperate, salacious cry, he pulled her deeper and deeper into sinful depravity, her head thrown back in bliss, the headphones slipping from her head as her nails scraped desperately over his clothed chest. The sharp bites of pain mixed with a sweet ache and tightening within Alastor, telltale signs of his climax nearing rapidly. "No more avoiding me, no more elusion or flight for you, understood? You are mine and mine alone."

Her toes curled as his words spurred her over the edge with him, her core spasming and quivering around him as her moans became ragged and desperate, jaw agape in rapture but no words found as she toppled into her orgasm, dragging and taking Alastor with her. The immense wave crashed into him and swept him along, and he growled in the sensational and exhilarating feeling and his head fell against her shoulder, with a growl ripping from his throat, low and guttural. His seed emptied in her with long, forceful spurts, her body tensing and relaxing as each twitch and jerk pushed his release deeper and deeper, the pleasure so acute, so sharp it was almost painful, until both their highs subsided and Alastor had to rest against her for a moment, their labored breaths the only noise that reached his ears.

Alastor sighed contentedly, his hand loosened it's grip and his fingertips gently traced over the angry, red lines they had left behind on her tanned skin of her waist, feeling her shivering underneath him. His lips pressed into the soft crook of her neck, placing a tender kiss on the flushed skin. He would have to do something about the bruising and marks... His eyes wandered up and he noticed that she was staring now, hazily and exhausted, her pupils still wide, lips bitten swollen and reddened, her cheeks and chest still painted pink with lingering arousal. The sight was so deliciously debauched and lewd, a smirk crept on his face.

"It seems that the equipment is indeed in perfect working order again, thanks to you, darling."

"...Yes, sir." she replied warily, her voice still breathless. Her usual demeanor returned, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes she tilted her head away from him. He chuckled, lifting her chin and capturing her lips once again, not much for hers but more for his own gain, and then moved off and out of her. He took a moment to savor the view - the red, swollen flesh, leaking his essence that pooled on the metal surface of his control panel he would work on in a few hours, and her thighs glistening in the faint orange light of the booth.

"Please, darling, from now on..." Alastor took a handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping the mess of his hands and cleaning her with careful gentleness, her legs twitching weakly at the contact.

"...call me Alastor."

He hummed quietly and lifted her from the console, closing the buttons on her blouse again with fastidious efficiency after she slipped back into her pants. Then, with a few quick motions, Alastor picked up his jacket and fixed his own appearance, before helping her stand properly on her trembling feet.

"I trust we won't have any misunderstandings anymore?" He smiled at her, tilting his head slightly, a soft and yet challenging smile, his hand cupping her face and the thumb brushing her lower lip. Her cheeks grew warmer and redder again, her eyes flickering downwards, then back up, before she nodded silently. "Excellent."

Alastor put the headphones back on their rack, before taking his glasses, slipping them back on and reaching for the door handle, his other hand extended towards his little engineer in an inviting motion.

"Come along, my dear. Let me treat you to a nice cup of coffee, I find there's nothing better after a job well done."

She paused, her face going a shade darker and her lips pressing together. Then, after a heartbeat, she stepped next to him and through the door he opened for her. He could see the small smile that crept onto her lips as she hurriedly passed him, a shy glance shot towards him, but this time it didn't feel like she wasn't fleeing, but almost daring for him to chase her.

Another kind of hunt, he mused, and the thought made him smile as he closed the door and followed her out.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #Human!Alastor x Reader #Alastor smut #Human!Alastor smut

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sunny44 · 2 months ago

Text

Passenger princess

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Secret girlfriend!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/n releases her new song and the guy in the music video shocks everyone.

Inspired by the song Passenger Princess by Nessa Barrett.

Yourusername Instagram post

Liked by @dualipa, @charlesleclerc, @lewishamilton and others 9183891

@Yourusername Passenger Princess next weeeek 🏁🏎️

@lewishamilton can’t wait to listen

@yourusername I think you’ll like it

@dualipa yesss queen

@user91 I’m so exited to see the music video

@landonorris nice hair

@charlesleclerc counting the days to listen

Liked by @yourudername

@user0172 we can see that the f1 drivers are Y/n’s fans

The release of the *Passenger Princess* music video was about to happen, and I felt the nerves as if it were my first project. It wasn’t just the fact that it was a new song, but the fact that my boyfriend would be in the video, and people, besides not knowing we're together, would freak out once they saw the video and realized it was him.

I still remember when I suggested the idea of him participating.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Y/n,” he said, laughing, as we sat on my couch. Charles always seemed to find a way to make any moment fun, even when I was being completely serious.

“I’m serious! You’d be perfect for the role,” I replied, crossing my arms, pretending to be impatient. “The song is about a girl who loves being the passenger in her boyfriend’s car. Who better for that than my boyfriend, who happens to be one of the best Formula 1 drivers in the world?”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean it literally has to be your boyfriend,” he said, still laughing.

“Fine, but don’t complain after seeing me kiss and sit on some other guy’s lap in a skirt.” I said indifferently, and he immediately pulled me into his lap, kissing my face all over, making me laugh.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” He sighed, still smiling. “No one’s kissing your lips but me.”

“I knew you’d agree,” I said, and he kissed my face several more times.

“You know this is going to cause a storm, right?”

I knew. I knew the internet would go wild when they saw Charles as the lead in my video. But what they didn’t know was that Charles and I had been together for two years, and so far, no one had figured it out.

“I know, but just because you’re in the video doesn’t actually mean you’re my boyfriend. It’s just a role.”

“Alright then.”

Now, two months after we shot the video, the moment of the premiere had arrived.

The song was released last night, and people were already freaking out. Today, we were at the Monza paddock, where I’d be spending the weekend with Charles.

He was nervous, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

“Do you think they’ll notice we weren’t acting?” he asked quietly, as we sat in one of the areas reserved for the drivers, watching the preparations for the race.

I smiled.

“They’ll probably suspect and ship us because of the video, but if we don’t give any signs that we’re actually dating, they won’t be sure, love.”

Deep down, I knew the fans would go crazy. The song was already a hit, and the fact that Charles was the male lead in the video would only increase their curiosity. But our relationship had always been just ours. No speculations, no gossip.

The video was finally released, and as we stood in the Ferrari garage, surrounded by engineers, mechanics, and, of course, other drivers, I smiled as I heard my voice and looked up at a large screen where the video started playing.

I couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly how we had imagined it. Charles, next to me, shook his head with a small, restrained smile. His eyes met mine, and I could see how much he was enjoying everyone’s reaction.

The video showed scenes of the two of us, him driving a Ferrari while I sang, having fun beside him. The scenes of us exchanging knowing looks were filled with a naturalness that few could fake. Because, of course, we weren’t faking.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Lando appeared in front of us. “How did you get Charles to do this?”

“I just thought he’d be perfect for the role and, with a lot of effort, I convinced him,” I replied, trying to keep my tone casual.

“Uh-huh, sure...” Lando muttered, glancing back and forth between Charles and me. Before he could say anything else, Pierre Gasly appeared with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Hey, Charles, since when are you an actor?” Pierre teased, giving Charles a light punch on the shoulder.

“Since Y/n convinced me to do it,” he answered, still maintaining his calm tone. But I knew how much he was enjoying this whole situation.

The confusion only grew as the day went on. The video was an instant hit, and soon, comments on social media started pouring in.

#YnCharles was trending, and theories about a possible romance between us wouldn’t stop appearing. The paddock was in constant buzz, full of journalists and fans speculating whether something was going on between me and Charles.

Charles and I exchanged discreet glances and smiles while keeping our secret. We had gone through this before, watching people try to guess what was happening between us. But we had always kept everything private, just for the two of us.

By the end of the day, as the sun set over Monza, Charles and I found a moment of privacy in the Ferrari motorhome. He pulled me into a hug, kissing the top of my head.

“So, do you think they’ll figure it out now?” he whispered.

“I think it’s just a matter of time before someone connects the dots.”

Charles looked at me for a moment, his green eyes shining with that soft expression he always had when it was just the two of us.

“I don’t care if they find out anymore, Y/n. I’m tired of hiding. I just want people to know you’re mine.”

My heart skipped a beat hearing that. We had always been so careful, so reserved. But I knew Charles was right. We couldn’t keep hiding forever.

“Maybe it’s the right time,” I said, holding his face in my hands. “But until then, let’s let them have fun with their theories.”

Charles smiled, pulling me closer. “Two years together, and still no one suspects.”

“We’re good at this,” I joked, kissing him lightly.

As we embraced there, away from the curious eyes of the paddock, I knew that when the secret finally came out, we’d be ready.

F1gossip Instagram post

“Everyone was shocked to see our Lord Perceval Charles Leclerc in the new music video of singer Y/n Y/l/n’s. In the music video, Y/n is the passenger of Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari and they act like a very sexy couple.

Who else has never imagined Charles doing something like this?”

Read the full articule in the link in our bio.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Yes, I’m a passenger princess”

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bklynsboys · 4 months ago

Text

Operation: Hide Our Relationship (?)

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: “you know,” dean murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. "you always look so cute trying to deny we're not together." you jumped, startled, your hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. “what?”

genre: fluff

word count: 0.5k

author's notes: wrote a silly little drabble about how i see dean hard launching his relationship! the man is the biggest blabbermouth & he'd definitely be the first to announce that he's dating the love of his life to the most important person in his life (aside from you, of course), his brother. so, sit tight! i hope you'll smile from the the tooth-rotting fluff <3

THE IMPALA HUMMED WITH THE AFTEREFFECTS OF THE HUNT, THE AIR THICK WITH THE METALLIC TANG OF BLOOD AND THE FAINT, ACRID SCENT OF BURNT BONES. Dean slumped in the driver's seat, his eyes closed, his breathing deep and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the chaos you had just escaped. You sat beside him, your hands trembling despite the adrenaline fade. A thin film of sweat clung to your skin, and your heart pounded like a trapped animal. In the backseat, Sam tried to ignore the charged atmosphere, his eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the darkening road.

He’d suspected for a while. The knowing glances, the easy touches, the way their eyes lit up when they spoke – it was like an open secret, obvious to everyone but them. He'd tried to voice his suspicions, but they’d always laughed it off, their denials as practiced as their hunting rituals.

“You know,” Dean murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine. "You always look so cute trying to deny we're not together."

You jumped, startled, your hand instinctively reaching for the door handle. “What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart.” A lazy grin spread across Dean’s face. His green eyes, usually sharp and focused, held a softer glow. "You look adorable when you're all red-faced and in denial that we're together in front of Sammy."

A blush warmed your cheeks, and you could feel the heat rising in your neck. “Shut up, Dean!” You tried to sound indifferent, but your voice cracked, betraying the giddiness within.

There's nothing more than you want aside from screaming at the top of your lungs that finally, you and Dean were together.

"And you," cheeks still pink from your boyfriend's teasing, you turned your head towards his younger brother in the backseat. "Sam Winchester, stop smirking. I know you're finding this really funny."

Sam merely raised his hands in surrender, shaking his head at your accusation. "I didn't say anything."

Dean chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “See? So cute trying to prove my point.”

Sam couldn’t resist a snort. “Really, Dean? Now’s the time?”

Dean feigned offense, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “A guy can appreciate his own relationship, can’t he?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You two are impossible.”

Sam grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Just admit it, you’re totally into each other.”

They exchanged a look, a silent agreement to ignore him. But the truth was written in their eyes, in the way they moved in sync, the unspoken understanding that hummed between them like buzz.

“Can we please just go?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by your hands. "I wanna shower. I stink of graveyard dirt and sweat."

Dean nodded, his expression softening. He reached for your hand, his touch grounding. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Sam sighed dramatically. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see anything.”

As the Impala ate up the road, the tension eased. With Dean's hand in yours, a promise of safety and companionship, you drifted off to sleep, the rhythmic hum of the vehicle and the gentle sway lulling you into a state of quiet.

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verstappensrealwife · 4 months ago

Text

Casual (Part 1 of 2) - Lando Norris x Reader

smut, angst

approx. 1,600 words

warnings: lando=ENEMY #1, brief MV1 x reader right at the end, smut(oral fem!recieve), fwb except they’re barely friends…

lando norris masterlist - here. max verstappen masterlist - here. f1 master list - here.

PART 2 HERE

My friends call me a loser 'Cause I'm still hanging around I've heard so many rumors That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch I thought you thought of me better Someone you couldn't lose You said, "We're not together" So now when we kiss, I have anger issues

Your friends had warned you about him, their voices laced with concern and frustration. They saw what you couldn't—or perhaps refused to see. What did they know? Clearly more than you…

You always went back to Lando Norris. Each time, you convinced yourself that this time would be different. That he'd finally see you the way you saw him. But every encounter ended the same: the dreaded "We're not together… it's only casual," followed by a kiss so passionate it blurred the lines between love and pain.

It made you furious, the way he toyed with your heart, dangling hope just out of reach. Yet, against your better judgment, you returned to him, surrendering to the illusion of affection. Each kiss, each touch, was a cruel reminder of what could never be. The cycle was a slow burn, eroding your self-worth with every fleeting moment of his attention.

In the quiet of your room, the weight of his words crushed you, leaving behind an ache that no kiss could ever heal. And still, you’d find yourself going back, lost in the hope that one day, maybe, he’d change his mind. But deep down, a part of you knew: some things, some people, never change.

You said, "Baby, no attachment" But we're Knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out Is it casual now? Two weeks and your mom invites me to her house on Long Beach Is it casual now? I know what you tell your friends It's casual, if it's casual now Then baby, get me off again If it's casual, it's casual now

You’d met his parents, shared laughter around their dinner table, and walked through the rooms of their family home. Those moments had felt like glimpses into a future you yearned for, yet he never craved you in the way you did for him. The warmth of their acceptance was a cruel contrast to the cold reality of his indifference.

Now, in the cramped footwell of your car, parked in a dingy, deserted lot, he was devouring you with a fervor that belied his emotional detachment. His tongue flickered and vibrated against your clit, his moans echoing in the confined space. The raw pleasure was a stark contrast to the sterile, unfeeling nature of your relationship.

“Fuck, fuck! Lando, you're so good at this—” you gasped, your body arching in response to his skillful movements. “I’m all yours,” you breathed, the words slipping out as a desperate plea for a connection that went beyond the physical.

After you’d finished, the euphoria fading, he climbed out of the compressed space on your car floor. The air between you felt heavy with unspoken truths. He didn't say much, just the bare minimum, as if to avoid breaking the fragile illusion you clung to.

“I’ll get an Uber,” he mumbled, his phone already in hand, the app open. It stung—he hadn’t even planned to stay.

You hummed quietly, a sound barely louder than a sigh, and he hopped out of the car, giving you a tight-lipped smile that felt more like an apology than a goodbye. The door shut with a finality that echoed in the silence. You huffed gently, the weight of disappointment pressing on your chest, and turned the keys, the engine roaring to life as you drove away, the emptiness in the passenger seat a stark reminder of his absence.

Dumb love, I love being stupid Dream of us in a year Maybe we'd have an apartment And you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

You often found yourself lost in thoughts of a different future, imagining a day where he loved you openly, where you weren't a secret kept from the public eye. In these dreams, he didn't rush you out of his apartment after a night spent together; instead, he held you close in the morning light, his embrace lingering with a sense of permanence.

You envisioned a future where you might move in together, sharing a space that was yours as much as his. In your mind's eye, you saw him introducing you to his friends proudly, not as an awkward afterthought. You imagined gatherings where you were welcomed, not just tolerated because you'd been accidentally caught post-intimacy in his driver’s room.

The reality, though, was a stark contrast. Max and Carlos had stumbled upon you once, the awkwardness palpable, and since then, any potential friendships had withered before they could begin. You never really met Max or Carlos after that, except for those few, brief encounters in stores, where you'd exchange polite smiles and hurried conversations, pretending the memories didn’t hang heavy in the air.

I know what you tell your friends It's casual, if it's casual now

After that incident, Lando had—of course—kicked you straight out of the room, leaving you to wander the paddock alone. The sense of isolation was crushing, each step echoing the emptiness you felt inside. As you scurried away, you couldn’t help but overhear his conversation with Max and Carlos. Their voices carried through the air, each word a dagger to your already wounded heart.

You caught a glimpse of their faces as you slipped past them, their expressions a mix of pity and discomfort. The look in their eyes only deepened your humiliation.

“It’s just casual,” Lando's voice was dismissive, almost careless. “I don’t like her like that… she’s just a good time, I guess.”

The words hung in the air, each one a brutal confirmation of your worst fears. You felt a sting of tears welling up but forced them back, swallowing the lump in your throat. The pain of his indifference was almost unbearable, a stark reminder of the chasm between your feelings and his.

It's hard being casual When my favorite bra lives in your dresser It's hard being casual When I'm on the phone talking down your sister

He’d insisted you leave clothes at his house, especially your underwear—the ones he liked on you. Sometimes, he would insist you put them on for him when you were at his place. In those moments, it made you feel special, as if leaving a part of yourself behind in his space meant something significant. Maybe it meant nothing...

You grew close with his sisters, exchanging likes on social media posts and sending each other TikToks you thought the other would enjoy. It was a small but cherished connection that made you feel more integrated into his life.

One evening, during a video call with his sister, she hesitated before asking, "Are you and Lando official?" Her eyes held a softness, a knowing look that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken truths.

Before you could respond, Lando snatched the phone from his sister’s hand, abruptly ending the call. Her expression lingered in your mind—an empathetic sadness that hinted at her understanding of your unreciprocated feelings. You sat in your apartment, staring at the blank homescreen, the silence around you suddenly overwhelming. The quiet was filled with the echoes of all the things left unsaid, the unacknowledged reality of your relationship with Lando.

And I try to be the chill girl that Holds her tongue and gives you space I try to be the chill girl but Honestly, I'm not I know what you tell your friends Baby, get me off again

That night, Lando messaged you, saying he needed space. The words stung, but you left him on read. Minutes later, another text came through, asking if you got his last message. All you replied with was, "Yes."

A few days passed in a haze of silence and self-doubt. Then, his name popped up on your phone again, asking to take you out. The pattern was all too familiar. You knew how it would end: not with a romantic evening, but with you in his apartment, the same empty routine of physical intimacy followed by a lonely departure at dawn.

Despite everything, you would’ve said yes again and again, caught in the cycle of hope and heartache. But this time, as you were about to respond, a new notification appeared at the top of the screen.

“Maxverstappen1 has requested to follow you.” “Maxverstappen1 has requested to message you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Max, with his quiet confidence and genuine smiles, was a stark contrast to Lando’s fleeting attentions. You thought back to the brief conversations in stores, the way Max's eyes seemed to hold a depth of understanding, a kindness that Lando never showed. He had always treated you with respect, even in those short interactions, and now he was reaching out.

Curiosity and a spark of something you hadn’t felt in a long time—hope—bubbled up inside you. You hesitated for only a moment before accepting his follow request and opening his message.

“Hey, I hope you’re doing well. I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee sometime?”

The simplicity and sincerity of his message were refreshing. Max wasn’t playing games; he wasn’t hiding you or keeping you at arm’s length. As you read his words, you realized how much you craved that kind of straightforward, genuine connection.

In that moment, you knew you’d rather be with someone like Max—someone who saw you as more than just a fleeting distraction. You typed out a response, feeling a sense of anticipation and relief wash over you.

“Hi Max, I’d love to. When are you free?”

did you love it did you love it did you love it should i make a part 2 for max did you love it hello???

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iannmin · 3 months ago

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3:32 am

Pairing: Idol! San x Idol! Reader

Synopsis: being an idol isn’t easy, in fact, especially more so for the both of you when a late-night snack is in need

I slipped into the convenience store just before 4 a.m., the familiar chime of the doorbell announcing my arrival. The cool air conditioning and the low hum of the fluorescent lights create a soothing backdrop to our nightly escapade. I scan the aisles and spot San, who is already here, attempting to blend in. With his black beanie pulled low and his long black-leathered coat enveloping him like a cloak of invisibility, he resembles a character from a low-budget spy movie.

“Hey,” I whisper as I approach. His dimpled smile is both mischievous and reassuring, making me laugh despite the hour.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. He gestures toward the snack aisle with a grand, exaggerated sweep of his hand, as if unveiling a hidden treasure chest. “Shall we?”

We venture down the aisles together, picking out snacks with the seriousness of treasure hunters. Every so often, we exchange furtive glances and duck into aisles when another customer appears. Our attempts at subtlety are anything but smooth. When a middle-aged man with a shopping basket full of milk and bread turns the corner, we both instinctively dive into the nearest aisle, nearly knocking over a display of instant noodles. I stifle a giggle as San huddles behind a tower of canned beans, peeking out with exaggerated caution. “Is it safe?” I whisper dramatically.

San squints towards the aisle. “I think so. But we should probably avoid the deli section. It’s too risky.”

We continue our mission, occasionally bumping into each other as we reach for the same snack. Each accidental brush of our hands sends a spark of excitement through me, but also a jolt of panic when we hear a distant rustling. We exchange alarmed glances and quickly retreat to the candy aisle, where we hide behind a display of chocolate bars.

“Mission impossible,” I whisper, “but with better snacks.”

San bursts into a fit of suppressed laughter, nearly toppling over a stack of gum. “Exactly. We’ll be legends in the convenience store underworld.”

As we edge closer to the checkout, the store remains nearly empty, save for a lone cashier engrossed in a book, apparently oblivious to our stealthy maneuvers. We take our place in line, trying to look as casual as possible while simultaneously checking for any signs of recognition.

San places our items on the counter with a flourish, his dramatic movements contrasting sharply with the cashier’s sleepy indifference. As the cashier rings up our snacks, San leans in and whispers, “Do you think anyone’s ever noticed us?” I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “Doubtful. We’re just two ordinary snack enthusiasts trying not to look suspicious.”

The cashier finishes bagging our items, and San takes the bags with a theatrical bow, his tone rising to a mock-heroic level. “Thank you, kind sir,” he says. “Your service has been invaluable. We shall speak of this night in hushed tones.”

We hustle out to the parking lot, glancing around with exaggerated caution as if we’re in a high-stakes spy film. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the store’s chill. As we walk briskly to the car, we both burst into laughter, unable to contain the amusement of our covert operation.

Once we’re in the car and the bags of snacks are stowed, San starts the engine. The drive to our next destination is filled with easy banter and shared laughter. We talk about everything from the questionable taste of some of our snack choices to hypothetical scenarios where we become snack connoisseurs for a living.

By the time we reach our destination, I’m laughing so hard I nearly forget why we’re here. The thrill of our secret outings, combined with the comedic antics of our attempts to avoid detection, make these moments feel magical. It’s a reminder that even in the smallest, most mundane situations, there’s a special joy to be found.

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ozzgin · 7 months ago

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Yandere! Bad Guy x Reader

I am currently in my Natural Born Killers nostalgia, and so I'm borrowing its vibes and bringing you this: a bad-to-the-bone, rock-and-roll attitude yandere who constantly makes you question your own morality. Featuring an old OC!

Content: gender neutral reader, violence, murder, male yandere

He fell in love with you at first sight. A goody two shoes, quiet and obedient. Shy. Oh, terribly shy. You couldn't even meet his eyes. He knew you were the kind others would step on, take advantage of. But there was more to it, much more to uncover.

Who was it? A relative, a friend, a coworker? You know, that person holding you back, keeping you in your place. The one who'd always make you feel small and insignificant. The one who would always find something to criticize. How did it feel when you found them on the ground, bashed in and bloodied up? He was standing above the lifeless body, catching his breath, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His way of courting you.

He looked so tall in that moment, towering above your hesitant self, his gaze of a confidence and intensity you'd never known before. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in", he said, gesturing towards a convertible he most likely stole earlier that day. What possessed you in that moment to join him without delay? Was it his charisma? Or did you know in the depth of your soul that he wouldn't take no for an answer?

You see, he's known it from the beginning. Someone like you needs someone like him. You’re a sweet little lamb lost among the wolves. The world would eat you right up if you were left by yourself. But now you have him. And he won't let his precious prey get away. Oh, dear, no. If he wants something, he gets it. And he's never wanted anything more than you.

"You didn't...even tell me your name", you sheepishly spoke up from the passenger seat, trying to keep your mind away from the crime you'd just witnessed. "Just call me Tig", he said casually with a yawn, speeding away. "Won't you be in trouble, Tig? Why would you even kill-" you tried to reason. "What kinda question is that? They treated you like shit and it pissed me off." He glanced at you with a frown, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You're mine now, so whatever happens to you is my business. Got it?" You just stared. Was that his way of asking you out?

Tig lives by his own rules, as you quickly learned from becoming his companion. Always on the run, indifferent to the world. For the most part, to your surprise, he's well-behaved. If people don't mess with him, he doesn't mess with them. Simple as that.

Anything involving you, however, sets him off terribly. Like a rabid, ferocious guard dog, he's ready to pounce on whoever approaches you the wrong way. Last week you stopped at a highway diner for coffee, and on your way back to your table, you jokingly pulled a clumsy dance move to the song playing from the speakers. Tig observed you with an amused smile, sipping from his cup. A passerby joined you, resting his arm on your waist flirtatiously. Tig's smile dropped in an instant, and next thing you knew, the whole place was splattered in blood. No one made it out.

"I didn't even finish my coffee", you whined, already used to the occasional massacre. The man hopped behind the counter and threw on a bloodied cap. "What will it be, sir/ma'am?" he pretended, dangling a takeaway cup and starting the espresso machine. "I never told you, but I used to be a barista", he declared proudly. An entirely different person from the unhinged killer you witnessed minutes ago. "What? You said you were a mechanic", you questioned with raised brows. "That's also true. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. You know what I'm best at, though?" He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours. "Pleasing you."

The man is romantic in his own way. He twists the key, and the engine stops. You follow him out of the car in confusion. "Why did we stop here?" He briefly lifts himself up onto the tall fence securing the bridge, and inhales deeply. "Isn't it a nice view?" he says, nodding ahead. It is a scenic sight, sure. The river slithers along the lush valley, and the setting sun gives everything a dramatic tint. "Give me your hand", he suddenly demands as he goes to grab it himself. Before you can ask for an explanation, he quickly drags a blade across your palm, and you wince in pain. He repeats the gesture with his own hand, locking his fingers with yours over the rail. You watch as fresh blood trails along your skin, eventually falling into droplets and vanishing into the river. "Now we're going to be everywhere", he remarks playfully. "Okay, but what was the point?" you insist, a little baffled.

"Isn't it obvious? Maybe this will help", he continues, procuring a ring from his pocket. "I'm saying I want to marry you, (Y/N)."

You open your mouth to answer, but he already slides it up your finger, eyes glimmering in excitement.

"You're never getting away from me, love."

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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 28 days ago

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Over the Limit - pt.iii

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

summary: As Jenna becomes more entwined in your life, you find yourself pulled deeper into the high-stakes world of racing—looks like you've got yourself your first race.

word count: 8.4k

————

The garage is usually alive with the hum of engines, the clank of tools, and the scattered voices of the crew. Everyone has their own rhythm here, groups within the crew naturally falling into place as they work on separate projects. But today is different. As soon as you walk in, you notice the shift.

The crew is huddled around Anton who has his phone out, their laughter cutting through the usual noise. You can't see what's on the screen from where you stand, but whatever it is, it's got everyone's attention. Curiosity pulls you in closer, your brow furrowing.

As you approach, Anton's voice carries over the group, smooth and teasing. "And here she is, looking all serious and focused... but wait for it..."

The guys chuckle, and you stop in your tracks, confused. You can't quite make out what's on the screen yet, but the way they're talking—it feels weirdly intimate. You shake your head, taking a few more steps forward, trying to get a look.

Anton continues, now with a mocking tenderness. "Right there! Look at that—I believe that's what we call young love, folks."

The laughter rises again, and something clicks. A sinking feeling erupts in your stomach. Heart racing, you push through the crowd until you finally see the screen. Your heart skips.

It's you. And her. Jenna.

There it is—your encounter in the garage yesterday. The split-second moment when you locked eyes with her, the subtle smirk she flashed your way. The way your hand wrapped over hers as she was holding the wrench. It all plays out on the surveillance screen, frozen in time, but somehow magnified, more intimate than you even remember.

Shit.

"Awh, my little Y/n's all grown up," Anton coos, not missing a beat as he notices you standing there now. His voice is laced with smugness. "Didn't know you had it in you."

You clench your jaw, "Shut up, Anton."

"Oh, come on! It's cute," one of the guys calls out, nudging you as if this whole situation isn't embarrassing. "A girl like that?" another crew member hollers with a whistle. "She's no Brimstoner, that's for sure. Where'd you find her, Y/n?"

As you look around you notice that everyone is looking at you with curiosity. You let out a breath. It seems like no one was able to recognize Jenna from the race. No one knows she's from Summer Valley—that she's a Viper.

"It's not what it looks like," you mumble, trying to sound indifferent.

Anton lets out a low laugh. "Sure it's not. Admit it, you've got yourself a girl now."

The teasing hits deeper than it should, and you feel your heart pounding. They're all grinning, eating this up, but for you, it's just a reminder—you still haven't texted her. Despite knowing your answer, you weren't sure when it was appropriate to text her, it's only been about 12 hours since you dropped the girl off at her home. And you were dreading seeing her again.

"Alright, alright, enough about Y/n's mystery girl. Everyone, get back to work!" Anton says, half-joking but with a playful edge. "I need a word with my cousin."

The rest of the crew grumbles as they scatter, returning to their tasks. Anton slings an arm around your shoulder, guiding you over to the car you'd stolen the night before.

"Market value on this baby is through the roof," he says, his fingers trailing along the sleek metal. "You probably won't need to work for a while after this score."

"Yeah," you reply, your mind already preparing for the real reason Anton pulled you aside.

"So... who's the girl?"

Who is she? The question lingers, heavier than you'd like to admit. What could you even tell him when you didn't fully know yourself?

"She's just someone I met at a pub a while back," you lie smoothly.

Anton clutches his chest dramatically. "You're hitting up pubs without me now? I thought we did everything together!"

"It was after one of my sales," you say, rolling your eyes. "I needed to unwind, grabbed a drink, and met her. Simple as that."

He raises an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. "I've never seen a Brimstoner that looked like that."

"She's not from Brimstone," you say quickly, the words tumbling out. "She's from... Ridgewater."

"Ridgewater, huh?" Anton mutters, as if that explains everything. "So, she your girlfriend?"

The question catches you off guard, heat creeping up your neck and flooding your cheeks. You'd been battling that blush since you stepped into the garage, memories of the night before playing on a loop in your mind. Everything about her made your pulse quicken. The thought of being her girlfriend... it sent a jolt of excitement through you, one you weren't quite ready to face. It was too early to sort out your feelings, but you couldn't deny she was stunning, and the pull between you both was undeniable. The lingering glances, the teasing banter, the subtle touches—there was a chemistry brewing between you two that you couldn't ignore.

"We're just... talking," you reply, though a small part of you wonders why you didn't just say she was a friend. Too late now.

"Anyway, what did you want to talk about?" you ask, eager to change the subject.

"It's actually about your girl's ends," Anton begins, leaning in. "I've got some friends from Ridgewater in town, and they're looking for a friendly race with our club."

You raise a brow, not quite sure why this involved you.

"I, uh, might've mentioned your name for a race against one of their drivers," he admits, mumbling the last part under his breath.

"Anton, what the hell?!" you snap.

"Come on! It's just for fun—one race, no big deal. No stakes. You don't even have to wear a Sinner jacket."

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to keep calm, but you still end up rambling. "Anton, you know how I feel about this stuff. I... I still don't even know what I want. I've never raced before. I'm going to suck."

"You could lose by an hour, and I wouldn't care," he says with a shrug. "I just want you to give it a shot, Y/n. Like I said, no stakes—just a little friendly racing."

You sigh, unsure but softening. "I'll think about it."

Anton nods, clearly taking your indecision as progress. A week ago, you would've shot him down without a second thought. "Race is in a week today, 7 p.m., same spot as last time," he says, already walking off with a wave.

He stops just before he reaches the other end of the garage, turning back with a grin. "Oh, and invite your girl! Bet she'll find it hot!"

And just like that, your cheeks burn again.

You blame your inexperience with girls for how easily your cheeks betray you. It's just embarrassment, that's all. Now, you're apparently faking a relationship and have a race tomorrow. Perfect.

Needing to clear your head, you turn toward your workbench, ready to lose yourself in modifications to the car you'd stolen. But the moment you pick up the wrench, an involuntary smile stretches across your face.

"Oh, you've got it bad," a familiar voice chuckles behind you.

You groan, not again. Bracing yourself for another round of teasing, you turn around only to feel a sense of relief wash over you. It's just Hunter.

Hunter always seemed out of place among the crew. He was too pure to be mixed up in Brimstone—too decent. But everyone had their reasons for being here.

"You're lucky no one recognized her," he whispers, stepping up beside you.

"W-what?" you stammer, caught off guard.

"I was right next to you at the Vipers' race, remember?"

Your eyes widen, your heart rate kicking up a notch as you realize he knew who—or rather what Jenna was. Although you trust Hunter, it only takes one slip for the crew to find out about your association with a Viper.

"Relax, my lips are sealed," he says with a reassuring smile. "You were practically making heart eyes at her the whole race though—hard not to notice."

"I was not watching her like that!" you protest, maybe too quickly.

"Uh-huh, and I'm not gay. Come on, Y/n/n, let's not lie."

You drop the wrench and face him, unsure of why he was so accepting of this. "You don't think it's weird that she's a Viper? We're supposed to be, like... sworn enemies!"

Hunter smirks. "Please. That's half the thrill, isn't it? And since when have you ever avoided doing something just because it's 'not allowed'?"

You both glance at the car you stole and burst into laughter.

"We're not dating," you start. "I wouldn't even say we're friends. Last night was the first time I saw her again since the race, and that's what you saw on the camera footage." You find yourself admitting more than you planned to, trusting the older guy more than you expected.

"Do you want to date her?" Hunter asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" You blurt out, way too fast.

Hunter just narrows his eyes, giving you that look. "I thought we agreed no more lying."

You fumble for words. "I-I mean, I don't even know her! I've known her for what, four hours? Sure, she's beautiful—okay, really beautiful—but that doesn't mean I'm thinking about a relationship." You pause, trying to gather your thoughts. "Besides, I've got a lot going on right now. You know that."

"You and your excuses," Hunter sighs. "When are you going to start living for yourself? I care about you like a little sister, and you need to take chances before you regret it. If you keep waiting for the 'perfect time,' you'll just end up with a bunch of what-ifs. If you don't know what you want, how will you ever find out if you don't try?"

This is the third person to lecture you about your life choices and philosophy in the span of two weeks. Anton, Jenna, and now Hunter. Clearly you were doing something wrong if more than one person has called you out on it.

"Alright, I want to—I want to get to know her," you finally manage to say. "I should probably text her, right?"

"She gave you her number?" Hunter asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod. "Yeah, last night. But it's only been 12 hours, I don't want to seem desperate."

"Oh my god, text her, you idiot!"

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pull out your phone, search for Jenna's name, but you couldn't find her number. You go to your recently added numbers and smile at the name she saved herself as: Your Favourite Viper. You send her a text.

"What'd you say?" Hunter asks leaning closer taking a look at your screen.

"Hey? You fucking just said 'hey'?" He looks at you incredulously. "I thought lesbians were supposed to move fast. At this rate you'll maybe get a hug in a couple years."

Before you can fire back, your phone lights up, showing an incoming call.

"Holy shit," you mutter, eyes darting to Hunter in panic.

"Answer it! Oh my god, see what she wants!" he whispers urgently, practically vibrating with excitement.

You stare as her name flashes across the screen with shaky hands. It was just another call. Just another girl. Why are you so nervous?

You take a breath and answer. "Hello?"

"Hey Greaser! You busy right now?"

Even though the phone isn't on speaker, Hunter's glued to your side, frantically shaking his head and mouthing, No! Say no! His exaggerated hand gestures make you laugh.

You laugh at how insane he looks. "No, I'm free. What's up?"

"Great. Meet me at Birch and 49th."

"Why? What's happeni—"

Before you could finish your sentence you're caught off by a beep, indicating the call ended. "Anddd she hung up," you sigh.

"I like her," Hunter grins. "She's got moxie."

"Where even is Birch and 49th?" you ask, frowning.

"Hold on, I got you." He pulls out his phone, tapping around for a moment. "That's weird. It's a shopping mall in Summer Valley."

"A mall?" you echo, confused. "Is she taking me shopping. What the fuck?"

The older guy laughs and shrugs. "No one told you to go after a girl from Summer Valley."

"I'm not going after anything."

"Sure you're not," he teases, smirking. "Yet, you're still heading to this mall. Sounds like you're going after her."

You flip him off with a grin as you walk away.

"Keep me posted, Greaser!" he calls out, teasing.

You shake your head, already feeling the nerves returning. If you're really going to meet Jenna, you need to pull it together.

You decide it's best to meet Jenna with some leverage—maybe some news on Percy.

You spot Anton deep in conversation with Madison, just like the day of the race against the Vipers.

"Yo, Ant! I'm heading out!" you call, interrupting them without a second thought. You weren't in the mood for formalities.

Both of them turn, startled by your sudden presence. There's something off about them—stressed, maybe? Anton looks angry, but whatever flash of frustration you thought you saw vanishes quickly. "Oh, hey. Where you headed?" he asks, casual but guarded.

"Just heading to the Valley to look for some parts," you lie smoothly, keeping your story close to the truth. No need to risk getting caught if someone actually sees you at the mall.

Anton nods, signaling the end of the conversation, but you're not done yet. You clear your throat. "Actually, speaking of Summer Valley, what's the deal with that Percy guy?"

Anton's brow furrows, and Madison gives you a curious look. "I saw him at the race," you explain with a shrug, trying to play it off casually. "He just gave off a bad vibe, like he was up to no good or something."

The tension between them is palpable, but neither of them dives into it. Anton brushes it off, saying, "He's just a dumbass."

At the same time, Madison leans in with, "What'd you see?"

You turn to Madison, sensing she might let something slip. "He was talking to someone. It looked... heated?"

"Georgie," she whispers under her breath, barely loud enough for you to catch. But you do.

Before you can ask more, Anton steps in, commanding the conversation, clearly trying to shift focus. "Look, Y/n, he's bad news. I don't know what those Vipers get up to in their little after-school club, but I don't want you getting involved, okay? Vipers are trouble. Stay clear of them."

"Yeah, don't worry," you reassure him, hiding the fact that you're about to meet up with one very soon.

Suddenly Hunter's words echo in your head again: If you don't know what you want, how will you ever find out if you don't try? He was right. And now, you figure the best way to shift the conversation is by dropping a bombshell of your own.

"I'll do the race," you say, throwing out the unexpected decision.

Anton's eyes widen in surprise, and you can tell that you've just given him the perfect distraction from Percy and the Vipers.

————

As you start your drive, you can't help but notice the streets are teeming with more drugged-up souls than usual. Young, old—it didn't seem to matter; the drug epidemic in Brimstone spared no one. A familiar ache settles in your chest as you watch people you once called neighbors and classmates wander aimlessly, trapped in their addiction. It was an all-too-common escape in this town—a place where ambition had no room to grow, where dreams were crushed before they even started. The further you get out of Brimstone, the fewer of them you see, like the weight of the city's decay is gradually lifting.

You pull into the bustling parking lot of the mall, the engine's rumble fading as you find a spot near the back. It's just past 6 p.m., and the place is alive with activity. Cars are circling for spaces, people weave in and out of stores, and teenagers being obnoxious. You check your phone—Birch and 49th, just like Jenna said.

Your eyes scan the area for any sign of her, but there's no sight of Jenna. You cut the engine, but the adrenaline from knowing you're about to see her again hums under your skin.

The evening air is cool as you step out, leaning against the side of your car, trying not to seem too anxious. You check your phone again—no new messages, no calls. Maybe you should text her and let her know you're here.

Before you can even unlock your phone, the sound of soft footsteps approaching catches your attention. Instinctively, you straighten up, your eyes tracing the sleek black loafers in front of you. Slowly, you lift your gaze, and there she is—Jenna. That same confident smirk that's been etched into your mind since the last time you saw her.

She's wearing a flowy brown skirt paired with a black cashmere sweater, looking almost... harmless?

"You done checking me out?" she teases.

Your eyes snap up to meet hers. Despite her bold words, you catch the faint blush colouring her cheeks, and you can't help but hope it's because of you, not the cool evening breeze.

"Yeah, I am," you shoot back with a smirk, holding her gaze confidently.

She rolls her eyes, but smiles whilst doing so. "Alright Casanova, come on," she starts walking away from you, and you follow with no hesitation.

"Wait we're actually going to the mall?" You ask confused, as she leads you both to one of the entrances.

"Yes? Why else would I call you here. Tonight, I'm taking you shopping."

You didn't actually think she called you to go shopping. You were only joking when you said that to Hunter. Yet here you are.

You blink at her, caught completely off guard. "Shopping?"

"Yeah," she laughs, walking into the mall. "Come on, you'll need to keep up."

You follow her lead, trying to figure out how shopping was part of her plan to one-up Percy. A race? Sure. A late-night coffee run? Maybe. But shopping? This was a curveball.

"You're taking me shopping?" you ask again, almost incredulous.

"Yeah," she repeats with a teasing look. "You need a better jacket. That one's not cutting it."

You glance down at your worn-out jacket. It's not exactly new, but it's comfortable. "What's wrong with my jacket?"

"Nothing," she shrugs, her eyes flicking over you, clearly enjoying this. "But I want to see you in something that fits my vibe. Something that makes you look like you're not from Brimstone."

Her words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you're unsure how to respond. The idea of her buying you something feels... strange. It wasn't like you needed new clothes—especially not from some fancy Summer Valley mall. Your jacket was fine, and if it wasn't, you'd handle it. But the fact that she wants to spend money on you? It makes your stomach twist. You couldn't help but wonder if she saw you as some kind of charity case—a girl from Brimstone who couldn't afford to keep up with her polished lifestyle.

You didn't want to be a project for her, someone she could mold to fit her world. The thought makes you feel a bit defensive, but you swallow it down, not wanting to ruin the moment. You glance at her again, her playful expression making it harder to argue. Maybe this wasn't a charity thing. Maybe she just liked you.

Still, it felt...weird.

You roll your eyes but can't help the smirk tugging at your lips. "So, what, you're my personal stylist now?"

She grins. "Maybe."

The two of you wander through the mall. The overhead lights cast a soft glow, reflecting off the shop windows as Jenna leads you into one of the higher-end clothing stores you'd probably never step foot in on your own.

She immediately heads toward the jacket section, flipping through racks like she's done this a million times. You hang back, watching her with a mix of amusement and curiosity. There's something weirdly endearing about how serious she is about this.

Jenna pulls out a black leather jacket, holding it up and inspecting it. "This," she says confidently, turning to you. "Try it on."

You raise an eyebrow but take the jacket from her. As soon as you slip it on, you feel the weight of the leather, the way it fits snugly across your shoulders. It's different—definitely edgier than anything you'd pick out for yourself. It resembled the Sinner's jacket only in that it's a black leather jacket, but something about it was entirely different—it was more you.

Jenna steps back, appraising you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip. "Now that," she says, her voice a little lower, "is hot."

You glance at yourself in the mirror, feeling a little out of place but... liking it. You catch Jenna's eyes in the reflection, and for a second, the air between you feels charged, like there's something unsaid hanging between the two of you.

"Alright," you say, clearing your throat, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. "I guess it's not bad."

"Not bad?" she teases, stepping closer to you. "You look like a Viper that got dipped in ink."

"Is that your plan?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "Turn me into one of you?"

"Maybe," she replies, her voice light but her eyes lingering on yours a moment too long. "One step at a time, Greaser."

You laugh, shaking your head, and take off the jacket. "Okay, your turn."

Jenna raises an eyebrow. "My turn?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning now. "If I'm trying on stuff for you, you're doing the same for me."

You have the money to spend, you just don't spend it on clothes, so one high-end purchase wasn't going to be the end of the world for you.

Jenna looks like she's about to protest, but then she shrugs, her lips curving into a playful smile. "Alright, let's see what you've got."

You head toward a rack of clothes, picking out something you think would suit her but also give her a taste of her own medicine—something just slightly outside her usual vibe.

You hand her a dark red bomber jacket. "Try this."

Jenna eyes the jacket before smirking at you. "I see what you're doing."

"Just trying to give you a taste of your own advice," you say, crossing your arms.

She rolls her eyes but takes the jacket anyway, slipping it on. And of course, she pulls it off effortlessly. The red complements her dark hair and pale skin perfectly, and for a moment, you're speechless.

"Well?" she asks, spinning around with a grin. "How do I look?"

"Like you could kick someone's ass and look good doing it," you say without missing a beat.

Jenna laughs, and it's the kind of genuine, carefree sound that makes your chest tighten a little. The two of you continue bantering, trying on ridiculous combinations of clothes, mixing high-end with completely impractical.

By the time you leave the store, both of you are laughing, arms full of shopping bags—most of which Jenna insisted on buying.

As you step back out into the quiet night and you drop off your bags in your respective cars, she turns to you, her playful smirk softening into something more genuine.

"That was fun," she says, nudging your shoulder.

You smile back, feeling lighter than you've felt in a while. "Yeah, I guess it was."

Jenna looks at you closely, searching your face, as if trying to read whether you're on the same page as her—whether you've enjoyed this evening as much as she has, and if you're not ready to call it a night just yet.

"Want to get ice cream?" she asks suddenly, her voice casual but her eyes giving her away. There's a hint of something more in the offer, like she hopes this isn't the end.

You can't help but smile at the unexpected suggestion.

"Why not?" you say with a grin. "This one's on me."

With that, the two of you run back into the mall, a sense of urgency and excitement as you try to beat the closing time. Laughter echoes between you as you race toward the ice cream shop, determined to grab your scoops.

————

"So how exactly does shopping fit into your plan?" you ask, taking a bite of your ice cream.

The two of you ended up sitting on the edge of the now quiet parking lot, legs dangling over the curb as you chatted. Finally, you decide to address the question that's been nagging at you all evening.

"Plan?" Jenna echoes, pausing mid-bite as she swallows her ice cream.

"Yeah, the whole thing with Percy—finding out his secrets?" you explain, slightly confused as to why you even need to clarify.

"Wait, so you're helping me?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah? Isn't that why you asked me out?" you reply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You didn't text me back saying yes. How was I supposed to know?"

You give her a look. "...Then why'd you invite me out?" you ask, still confused.

"Because I could," she says casually, like it's no big deal. "You said you weren't busy."

You blink at her, still trying to piece it together. "So, you just... invited me out for no reason?"

Jenna tilts her head, giving you a playful smile. "Do I need a reason?"

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. The girl sitting next to you is a complete enigma. First, she ropes you into some covert mission to gather dirt on Percy, and now she's taking you shopping and out for ice cream like it's a casual hangout.

"Well... I guess not," you mumble, feeling a little off-balance.

Jenna takes another bite of her ice cream, her gaze drifting up to the fading evening sky. "Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you. Ever think of that?"

Your heart skips a beat at her words, but before you can react, she nudges you with her elbow, breaking the tension. "Plus, I figured if I was going to enlist your help with the whole 'Percy situation,' I might as well reap all the benefits."

You frown, puzzled. "Like what?"

She shrugs, smirking at you. "Like seeing you in that jacket. You look good, by the way."

You can't help but laugh at that, shaking your head. "So this was all an elaborate ploy to dress me up?"

Jenna grins. "Maybe."

You shake your head with a blush, a soft chuckle escaping you. "You'll see me in it again next week."

Jenna raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "What's happening next week?"

"I'm racing."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Wait, seriously? You've joined the Sinners now? And you're just casually dropping that on me?"

You wave your hand dismissively. "Not exactly. It's just an exhibition race. A week today at 7. Same place as where we met actually. I figured it's a good chance to see if it's for me, you know? No commitments yet."

Jenna nods thoughtfully, her expression shifting from shock to approval. "Well, it's about time you took the wheel—literally and figuratively." She smirks. "One step closer to sorting out all your issues, huh?"

"Mhmm, so you coming?"

Jenna looks taken aback by your serious tone. "How would that work? What would your crew think?"

With a sigh, you finally reveal, "They think you're my girlfriend."

She nearly chokes on her ice cream. "What?"

"They saw footage of us last night in the garage and, well... yeah. Thankfully, they didn't recognize you. I told them you're from Ridgewater."

"Ridgewater?" She scrunches her nose in disgust. "Ugh, even I can't stand those snobs."

"You're literally in the same tax bracket," you fire back, amused.

"We're way more tolerable," she insists, clearly offended. "But seriously, how could you let us get caught on camera? Don't you know there are cameras in your club's garage?"

"It's not my club. And yeah, I know, but no one ever checks them. I have no idea why Anton did that day."

Jenna sighs, the sound dripping with annoyance. The noise hits you hard, like a voice inside your head that reminds you that this doesn't mean anything, she hates being seen with you and all she cares about is risking your alliance. It stings, leaving you wondering if she's only hanging around because she needs something from you.

Wanting to shift the mood, you bring up what you overheard earlier. "Is there a Georgie in your club?"

Her eyes narrow with curiosity. "Yeah, there is. Why?"

You explain the interaction with Anton and Madison, how Madison had whispered Georgie's name when you mentioned seeing Percy having a heated conversation at the race. "I have a feeling he could help with your plan."

Jenna hums thoughtfully. "I'll get Emma to work on him," she says, already tapping away on her phone.

"Emma?" you ask.

"Yeah, she's a friend in the club. One of the few nice ones. Georgie's got a thing for her, so she'll probably be able to squeeze some info out of him."

You nod, piecing it together. That must've been the girl you saw her talking to at the race. Still, the earlier sting lingers in your chest. It bothers you more than you'd like to admit that Jenna might only see you as a means to an end.

The mood feels heavier now, so you stand up. "It's getting late. I should head back."

Jenna pauses, clearly wanting to say something more. A part of her seemed to regret driving herself here. If she hadn't, maybe this night could've stretched out longer, and you could've dropped her home like you did the previous night. But she nods, keeping her thoughts to herself. "Yeah. I guess you should."

————

The week flew by in a blur, and before you knew it, race day was here. Your first race.

You and Jenna had been texting off and on all week—mostly about the frustrating lack of progress with Percy, but there'd been some banter too, the kind that was just toeing the line between playful and flirty. At least, you hoped it was flirting.

Your nerves buzzed as you pulled up to the track, the sun starting to dip behind the skyline. The place was already alive with revving engines and the thick smell of burning rubber.

Unlike the Viper race a few weeks back, there wasn't any strict segregation going on. Sure, the Ridgewater crew—the Ravens—hung out on one side, and the Sinners were mostly on the other, but people were still mixing. Talking. No tension, no invisible lines drawn in the sand.

Stepping out of your car, the weight of the moment finally started to hit you. Anton and the crew were scattered around, but your mind kept drifting. You were thinking about the race, sure, but also about her. You hadn't seen Jenna since the mall, and even though she texted you "Good luck" this morning, the thought of her showing up was stuck in your head.

And yeah, you were buzzing to see if she'd actually come.

Hunter appeared at your side, breaking your thoughts with a friendly clap on the back. "Ready for this?" he asked, wearing that usual cocky grin of his.

You took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. I think I am."

"Good," he said with a laugh. "Because everyone's waiting to see what you're made of." He gave you a little shove, then wandered off to catch up with the others.

With one more deep breath, you walked over to where Anton and the rest of the crew were hanging out. The adrenaline was kicking in, but so was that nagging thought in the back of your mind—Would Jenna show up?

"Sweet jacket Y/n, looks like you finally splurged on yourself huh?" Anton laughs, pulling you into a bear hug.

You grin, knowing full well the jacket wasn't your doing but Jenna's. The rest of the crew were hyping you up, throwing questions your way about the race—how you were feeling, if you were ready—typical racer small talk. You played along, but your mind kept drifting.

The group started to thin out as people dispersed, and your eyes wandered over to the pillars near the edge of the lot, the spot where you first met Jenna. It was hidden, quiet—your secret spot. Was she here?

You started walking toward it, curiosity pulling you closer. That's when you saw them—four Ravens, the Ridgewater crew in their signature blue, standing around in a tight circle, talking to someone you couldn't see clearly at first. But as you got closer, the fifth person came into view.

She did come after all.

Your heart skipped a beat, that giddy excitement rising up. But that feeling was quickly replaced by something else. Her expression wasn't one of excitement or amusement. No, she looked uncomfortable. You could see it in her stiff posture, the way she subtly shifted as the Ravens talked around her.

You step closer, the voices of the Ravens becoming clearer as you approach. One of them, a tall guy with bleach-blond hair, was leaning in a little too close to Jenna, his smirk all too familiar.

"Come on, sweetheart, why don't you ditch the pillars and hang with us tonight? We're a lot more fun," he drawls, eyeing her in a way that made your blood boil.

Jenna's eyes narrow, her body language practically screaming discomfort, though she keeps her cool. "Yeah, I'm not interested," she says flatly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Blondie chuckles, not getting the hint—or choosing to ignore it. "I don't see any affiliation on you," he retorts, motioning to her lack of a jacket. "You're no Raven, not a Sinner either. You're a free agent, sweetheart. Why stick around?"

That's when you decide you've heard enough.

Stepping into the circle, you make your presence known. "She's with me."

The guy looks at you with an unimpressed raise of his brow, but before he can say anything, you shrug off your jacket—the one Jenna had bought for you—and drape it over her shoulders. "She's mine," you say, locking eyes with him, daring him to push it further.

Jenna's cheeks flush a soft pink, her eyes darting to yours, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness. She instinctively grips the jacket tighter around her, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the situation.

Blondie snorts, glancing at his buddies before looking back at you. "Alright, alright, no need to get possessive. We were just talking." He raises his hands defensively, but the look in his eyes says he's not completely backing down. Still, they start to shift away, slowly retreating as the tension fades.

Once they're out of earshot, you turn to Jenna, your expression softening. "You okay?"

She nods, her lips curving into a grin. "Nice save," she says, still clutching the jacket. "I didn't know you were the possessive type."

You chuckle, feeling the adrenaline from the confrontation fade. "Just making sure they knew the deal."

"Yeah, well, I could've handled it." She smiles, but there's a twinkle in her eye. "But...thanks for the jacket." Her blush deepens, and you can't help but feel a little victorious seeing her like that again.

"Anytime," you reply, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. The race may be on your mind, but right now, it's her that's making your heart race.

You glance over your shoulder to check if anyone can see you, but Anton is deep in conversation with what looks like the leader of the Ravens, drawing all the attention his way. Typical Anton.

"I didn't think you'd show up," you admit, turning your gaze back to Jenna, noticing how your jacket swallows her frame, the sleeves hanging past her hands. Somehow, it looks perfect on her.

"How could I miss your first race?" she teases, her lips curling into a smirk. "You could walk out of this a full-fledged Sinner if you end up loving it."

That thought hadn't really crossed your mind before. What if you did enjoy racing? Were you really going to add "racer" to your list of titles? And if you hated it—what then? Would you leave Brimstone behind for good? Your mind starts spinning with all the possibilities, but you stop yourself before the spiral goes too deep. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

Jenna tilts her head thoughtfully. "You said this race had nothing on the line right? Just a friendly race?"

You nod, though a flicker of doubt lingers.

"Then yeah," she says, her voice firm. "I think it's fair for you to give it a shot. Figure out what you want." Her eyes meet yours, steady and reassuring. "Sometimes, you don't know until you try."

Her words calm the storm in your mind, and for the first time tonight, the weight of your choices feels a little lighter.

"I'm totally making fun of you if you lose though," she adds, giving you a playful wink.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Of course you will," you reply, trying to play it cool, though her teasing still makes your heart skip a beat.

She smirks, leaning back against the pillar with a casual confidence that somehow makes you feel even more jittery. "Just trying to keep you grounded, you know. Can't let you get a big head if you win."

"Like I need help with that," you shoot back with a grin.

For a moment, the banter eases your nerves. But then the reality of the race looming ahead creeps back in, and you glance over to where your car is parked, engines revving in the distance. The scene is alive with anticipation, and you can feel the electricity in the air, building up to something big.

"Seriously though," Jenna adds, her tone softening, "I think you'll do great. You've got the skill, the focus. Just don't overthink it, okay?"

Her words hit deeper than you expected, and you feel a warmth spreading through your chest. "Thanks," you murmur. "I'll try not to."

She gives you a small nod, her eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before flicking to the track behind you. "Go show them what you've got," she says, her voice soft but full of that undeniable spark.

You take one last look at her before stepping back, the jacket still draped around her, fitting like she was always meant to wear it.

She must've thought that look meant you wanted the jacket back, because she started to shrug it off.

"—no, keep it on," you quickly interrupt. "I can't have anyone else bothering you, especially when I won't be there to stop them."

————

Anton stood next to you outside the car, arms crossed, his usual smirk tempered by something more serious. The roar of engines filled the air around you, and the crowd was buzzing with energy as the race time drew near.

"You ready?" he asked, eyeing the car, then looking back at you with raised eyebrows.

"As I'll ever be," you replied, your fingers itching at your side. You tried to shake off the nerves, but it was easier said than done.

Anton clapped you on the shoulder, a rare look of pride on his face. "Remember, this isn't just about winning. You gotta feel it, the rush, the adrenaline. If you're not in the zone, it's game over."

You nodded, knowing he was right. Winning is not the end goal—it was the feeling, the test, to see if this whole world was something you were cut out for. You glanced around, spotting familiar faces from the crew and a few more you didn't recognize. The Sinners, the Ravens, and everyone else, all here to watch and see what you'd do.

"I know," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Just got to stay focused."

Anton gave you a once-over, then grinned. "You're already ahead of the game. You've got your crew, and your girl showed up to watch. Not a bad start, huh?"

You chuckled, though a part of you still didn't fully understand what you were doing here—or what you were trying to prove. But you couldn't deny the thrill of the moment.

"Speaking of which, how's she doing?" Anton asked, leaning in closer. "Saw you two getting cozy earlier."

"Don't start with that," you muttered, shaking your head.

He laughed, stepping back. "Just saying, keep your head in the game. Show them what you've got."

The loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing the final call for drivers to get to the line. Anton gave you one last pat on the back. "Oh—and Y/n? Step on it. Don't stay in your limit."

You watched him walk off with those final words. It was time.

As you slipped into the driver's seat, adjusting your gloves and gripping the wheel, you glanced out the window toward the starting line. The pit of nerves in your stomach twisted a bit tighter when you spotted the racer pulling up next to you. Of course, it had to be him—the blondie from earlier, the one who had been hitting on Jenna.

He threw you a cocky smirk as he revved his engine, clearly more than ready to leave you in the dust. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the sight of him. Typical. He looked the part—flawless car, arrogant attitude, and an ego that seemed to fill the entire track.

Here he was, thinking he'd outshine you, thinking he had this in the bag. The thought sent a new wave of adrenaline through your veins, change of plans—winning is the end goal. It was personal now.

Settling into the driver's seat, you gripped the wheel tightly. Anton's last words echoed in your mind: "Step on it. Don't stay in your limit." But the speed he wants? You'd never gone that fast, and you weren't sure you wanted to.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you glanced at the blond in the car next to you. He was smirking like he already had this in the bag. It The memory of him hitting on Jenna made your grip tighten even more. Then your eyes shifted to where Jenna stood, wrapped in your jacket. She met your gaze for a second, and you had to look away. God, what was I thinking? You cringed internally, remembering how you had jumped in like some hero and blurted out, "she's mine." What were you doing? This wasn't you.

The signal blared. Instinct took over, and you slammed your foot on the gas. The car roared to life beneath you, and you shot forward. The world around you blurred as the race began, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Blondie took the early lead, just as you expected. He was gunning it, probably trying to hit that 200 mark like Anton said.

You weren't even close. And you still weren't half way into the race. The speedometer was climbing fast, but the memory of your father's crash came rushing back. 200km/h—that was the speed he'd hit before everything went wrong. Your heart raced faster at the thought. No way am I hitting that. I can't. But you didn't need to. You weren't trying to match raw speed; you had something better—control, technique, and years of dodging the cops under your belt.

The first stretch was relatively straightforward, and you stayed just behind Blondie, pacing yourself. He was fast, sure, but he was reckless. You could see it in the way he took the turns, wide and messy, eating up his speed. You kept to the inside, handling each corner with precision, hugging the pavement like you were born to do this. Blondie kept glancing in his rearview, probably wondering why you weren't trying harder to catch him. He didn't get it. He didn't know you didn't need to reach that ridiculous speed to win.

The track began to curve—the finish line in sight, and you knew this was your moment. There was a sharp turn ahead, one that Blondie was approaching too aggressively. You could already see it. He wasn't going to slow down enough, and when he hit the curve, he'd either lose control or slide wide, giving you the opening you needed.

Now, you thought, pulling back just slightly as you hit the turn. You feathered the brakes, hugging the inside of the corner while Blondie flew into it way too fast. Just as you expected, his car swerved wide, giving you the perfect opportunity. You floored it, slingshotting around him with precision. He was still fighting to regain control when you shot past him.

Your heart raced, the finish line right there for the taking. The engine growled beneath you as you pushed forward, ignoring the urge to check the speedometer. It didn't matter now. You were in control, and that was all that counted. The crowd blurred into the background as the finish line rushed toward you.

You crossed first.

The roar of the crowd engulfed you like a tidal wave. Cheers erupted from every corner, your name ringing in your ears like a victory anthem. "Y/N! Y/N!" they chanted, and the excitement surged through you, igniting every nerve ending. You felt invincible, a high unlike anything you had ever experienced. The adrenaline coursed through your veins.

In that moment, you understood why people chased this feeling. It was intoxicating, addictive even, and a part of you hated that you were reveling in it. The thrill of victory mingled with the elation of having just pushed your limits. But then your eyes found her in the crowd—Jenna. She stood there, a radiant smile lighting up her face, and all at once, the adrenaline surged anew.

It was a reckless desire that ignited within you, overwhelming and raw. You wanted to kiss her, right there in front of everyone, to pull her close and celebrate your victory together. The image flickered in your mind, vivid and enticing, and suddenly, all you could think about was her. You remembered reading an article once about bank robbers who, after cracking the vault, had sex right in front of the safe due to the adrenaline. A story you once thought stupid, in that moment, it made sense. The adrenaline, the thrill of accomplishing something audacious, the heat of the moment—it was all a cocktail of desire that was too intoxicating to resist.

But as your heart raced for both the victory and for her, a small part of your mind pushed back. You couldn't deny it any longer; you wanted Jenna. You wanted her bad. And you didn't care if the crew found out who she was or if they learned she wasn't from Ridgewater. You didn't care if your alliance crumbled under the weight of it all. But as quickly as the thought ignited, a flicker of caution settled in. I can't jeopardize it for her, she's in trouble.

The cheer of the crowd faded momentarily as you wrestled with your feelings. Was this thrill rooted in the race itself, or was it because she was watching you? The two sensations intertwined, leaving you breathless. You wanted to close that distance between you—you at the finish line her at the pillars.

You leaned against your car, grinning widely as you took in the moment, the reality of what you'd just accomplished. The rush of adrenaline, the celebration of the crowd, and the promise of what was to come. With Jenna smiling back at you, you knew you were fucked. You thought with this race now over some of your questions would be answered, but now you are left with more.

————

The celebration continued long into the night, the energy of victory electrifying the air around you. The next hour unfolded in a blur of races, laughter, and clinking beer bottles. Your heart was still racing from the earlier adrenaline, but now it was fueled by the heady mix of joy and the shared exhilaration of the crowd.

As you mingled and celebrated, your eyes continuously searched for Jenna, hoping to catch a glimpse of her amidst the people. But luck was not on your side; you couldn't spot her anywhere. It was only once everyone started leaving, and you were getting ready to leave, did you spot the girl.

"Mind giving me a ride home?" she asked, knowing you won't say no.

And so there you both were, on the highway to Summer Valley. "I knew you would win," she broke the silence. "How did you like it?"

"It was...nice." you answer, eyes straight on the road. After finally admitting to yourself your growing attraction to Jenna, you found it hard to look her way; the adrenaline was still coursing through you, making your thoughts a tangled mess.

"Nice? All you're going to give me is nice?" she fires back with sass.

You laugh, "I'm just confused. I don't know if I enjoyed racing, or the attention that came from winning."

The attention that came from you.

Jenna tilted her head, studying you with a curious expression. "Come on, don't play coy with me. You know you loved it. That rush, the speed, the crowd cheering your name—it's addictive. You can't deny that."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you kept your eyes on the road. "Yeah, I guess it is. But it's more than just that. It's everything that came with it. The energy, the victory...and yo—." You cut yourself off before you regret your words.

Her brow furrowed slightly, "And what?"

You bit your lip, debating whether to dive into your feelings now or keep it light. But decided to can the idea as a whole. "Nothing, anyways was your friend able to make Georgie or whatever spill?" You ask trying to change the subject.

Jenna seemed upset about the change in topic, but didn't press it any further. "Actually yeah. He didn't give much context, but Percy's meeting someone tomorrow, and we are going to spy on that meeting," she smiles proudly.

"Sounds like a plan. Do we know anything about who he's meeting or what it's for?"

"Georgie just said something about Ghost Smoke. I don't know what that is—a new racing crew maybe? That name mean anything to you?"

"Ghost Smoke?" You parrot, making sure you heard her right. She nods her head.

From what you knew, Ghost Smoke was the latest drug that was being pushed out onto the streets. The one that's been causing the latest drug epidemic in Brimstone. If what you're thinking is true—then Percy is not someone that should be fucked with. You consider telling the girl in your passenger seat about what you know, but decide to keep quiet. Not tonight.

Before you knew it, you found yourself on the brown-eyed girl's street. You instinctively slowed down, stopping about twelve houses away—probably out of habit—but she didn't seem to mind. As she turned to you, her intense gaze pierced through the dim light, leaving you wondering what she was thinking. Was she going to lean in for another kiss on the cheek? Just as that thought flickered in your mind, it was swept away by the sound of her opening the car door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Greaser," she said, her voice playful yet filled with a hint of mystery, before walking down the road, still wrapped in your jacket.

You remained parked in the shadows of the dimly lit street, your thoughts racing as wildly as your heart had during the race. That uneasy feeling nagged at you, refusing to fade. You had thought Jenna was the answer to your questions, a beacon guiding you through the chaos, but she also seemed to be the source of many new ones. Just what was this girl pulling you into, and why couldn't you bring yourself to walk away?

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cowboybeepboop · 21 days ago

Text

Temptation

"I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, angst with a fluffy ending

Word count: 5.3k

Summary: You have a crush on Scott which leads to a passionate night together, he leaves in the morning and you have to face him at work the next day.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, p in v sex, one night stand.

a/n: Idk with this one, I usually write soft and romantic so even when I tried something new it ended soft and romantic. Hopefully you enjoy it, as always send any requests you have my way! I love writing requests, I’m also looking to broaden the characters I write for so let me know if you have anything for other fandoms <3

As the headlights of Javi's pickup truck flickered across the neon sign of the "Easy Sleep Motel," the anticipation of finally seeing Scott again filled the air.

For the past few weeks, you had been chasing storms together in the heart of Tornado Alley, forming a bond that went beyond the thrill of the hunt. Scott had become more than just a colleague; his piercing blue eyes and strong jawline had sparked a flame of attraction in you that you hadn't been able to ignore.

He knew about your crush, and while he remained professional, there was an undeniable tension that danced between you like the lightning in the tempestuous skies you both loved so much. Tonight was no different, as you pulled into the motel parking lot, exhausted but exhilarated from another successful day of navigating through the volatile dance of nature's fury.

The lot was a chaotic symphony of chatter and diesel engines, with teams from all over the country sharing tales of the day's conquests and preparing for the night's rest before the next round of adrenaline-fueled chases. Javi turned to you with a knowing grin, "Looks like we're the last ones in again," he said, cutting the engine. "Ready to face the music?"

You nodded, your heart racing with excitement, unsure if it was the thought of seeing Scott or the impending storms that lay ahead. The cool evening breeze whispered through the open window, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and the promise of a new adventure waiting just beyond the horizon.

Scott had been waiting patiently in the motel lobby, leaning against the counter and shooting the breeze with the front desk clerk, a young girl with a warm smile and a hint of mischief in her eyes. He had been watching the parking lot, anticipating your arrival, his gaze drawn to the approaching headlights of your truck.

As you and Javi entered the lobby, Scott pushed away from the counter, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicked over you, taking in your wind-swept hair and the flush on your cheeks. “Finally decided to join us, huh?”

You brush away the strands of hair that are stuck to your sweaty skin. Sighing as you lean on to Javi’s shoulder, exhausted from the chase.

“Yeah, had to stop to get some food.” Javi smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Scott's eyes flicker to Javi's arm around your waist, a hint of irritation in his gaze. He knows there's nothing more than friendship between you and Javi, but the sight of him touching you in such an intimate way stirs a mix of frustration and possessiveness within him.

He leans against the counter again, folding his arms across his chest. “Good thing you remembered to eat. Wouldn’t want you passing out on the road.” His tone is nonchalant, but there's a hint of an edge to it.

“Guys, I’m gonna head upstairs..” you yawn, grabbing your bag from Javi’s hand. As you bid Javi goodnight and start to head towards your room, Scott feigns indifference, pretending to gather his own things. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you make your way down the narrow hall.

After a few moments, he follows at a safe distance, his footsteps light and his eyes fixed on your back. He waits until you reach your room and unlock the door before he approaches, clearing his throat.

“Oh, Scott.” Your eyes light up as you catch his gaze, a small smile planted on your lips.

Scott's heart skips a beat as he sees the smile on your face. He tries to play it cool, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall next to your door.

"Hey." He says simply, his blue eyes searching your face. "Got a minute?"

“Mhm, come on in.” You open the door for him, going inside and taking a seat on your bed.

Scott follows you into the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He takes a moment to take in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the way the dim light casts shadows across your features.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, his knee brushing against your leg. "So, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something."

“Yeah?” You turn to face him, “What’s up?” Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at his face.

Scott swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to compose himself.

"Well, it's just... I've been thinking... about us..." He trails off, his gaze flickering down to where his knee touches yours.

You press your palm to his thigh, shifting closer to him. “Us? What about us?” Your voice is soft and full of vulnerability.

As your hand brushes against his thigh, Scott's breath hitches in his throat. It's a simple touch, but it sends sparks dancing across his skin.

He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with an intense mix of desire and uncertainty. "I just... Can I be honest with you?"

“Yes, of course.” You murmur. Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze never straying from yours.

"I've been fighting this for a long time, but I can't deny it anymore. I'm attracted to you. I feel something when I'm around you that I've never felt with anyone else."

He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing your cheek, the pads of his fingertips tracing the curve of your jawline. "It's driving me crazy."

You smile sweetly as you lean it for a soft kiss. Scott's eyes widen in surprise as you lean in, but he quickly melts into the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head.

His lips are warm against yours, his body tense as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. He kisses you deeply, his tongue darting to meet yours, a soft moan escaping his throat.

Scott grips your shorts as he tugs them down your legs, revealing the damp fabric of your underwear clinging to your skin. His eyes rake over you hungrily, drinking in the sight of your bare flesh. You shiver in anticipation, your body responding to his touch as if it had been waiting for this moment all along.

He kisses you again, his hand slipping beneath the elastic waistband, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You gasp into his mouth, your hips arching towards him as he explores higher. The tension between you snaps like a tightly coiled spring, and you find yourself desperately wanting more.

He seems to understand, his kisses growing more urgent as he helps you out of the rest of your clothes, leaving you exposed and trembling before him. The room feels electric with the storm of emotions brewing inside you, the anticipation of what's to come as potent as the scent of rain in the air outside.

Scott's hands continue to roam over your body, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire as he pulls away the last barriers between you. He stands, quickly stripping off his own shirt and pants, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch, your breath hitching, as he reveals the powerful muscles of his chest and the defined lines of his abs, his desire for you evident in the bulge of his boxers.

With a sense of urgency, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband and slides them down, freeing his erection. It stands proudly between his legs, a testament to his need for you. He moves closer, his bare skin pressing against yours, and you can feel the heat of his arousal as it brushes against your stomach.

Your own need is palpable, your body aching for the connection you've both been craving. He kisses you again, his tongue delving deep, as he gently guides you back onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the soft mattress.

With a groan, Scott positions himself between your legs, his hand guiding his erection to your entrance. He teases you, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your wetness, making you squirm and beg for more.

He smiles, a predatory glint in his eye, before he finally pushes in, inch by inch, filling you up. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that makes you dig your nails into his back. He pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size, before he starts to move.

His strokes are slow and deliberate at first, each one sending waves of sensation crashing through your body like the thunder outside. He watches your face, memorizing every twitch and gasp as he moves deeper, his eyes dark with desire. As he starts to pick up the pace, the storm inside you matches the one raging outside, lightning strikes of pleasure firing through your veins with every thrust.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in a primal dance as old as the tempests you both chase. The sound of the rain on the motel roof is the only music needed as you two lose yourselves in the intensity of the moment.

As your bodies reach their crescendo, the storm outside mirrors the tumultuous passion within the motel room. Your cries of ecstasy meld with the roar of the thunder, and Scott's deep, guttural groans echo through the air as he releases himself inside you.

The force of your shared climax sends tremors through your limbs, leaving you both panting and gasping for breath. He pulls out slowly, his gaze locked on yours, the connection between you still burning bright. He then collapses beside you, his muscular form sprawling out on the bed, one hand resting on your hip.

The rain taps a soothing rhythm against the window as you both lay there, entwined in the aftermath of your first intimate encounter. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a testament to the raw power of your union.

Scott's eyes never leave yours, a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You curl into him, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the storm outside begins to dissipate.

As you wake up the next morning, the room bathed in the soft morning sunlight, you reach out to the empty space beside you, the sheets still warm from where Scott had been lying.

You sit up, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind, and a pang of disappointment washes over you as you realize he's gone. His clothes are nowhere to be found, the only evidence of his presence being the lingering scent of his cologne on the pillow and the imprint of his body on the mattress.

As you hastily pull your clothes on, the weight of Scott's absence settles heavily on your chest. The room suddenly feels too small, claustrophobic even, and the air seems to thicken around you.

You can't believe he left without a word, without a note, without any explanation for his actions. Tears threaten to fall, and the lump in your throat feels like it's about to choke you.

You hear a knock on the door, quickly pulling yourself together as you gather your things. When you open the door you see Javi with his warm smile and a cup of coffee.

“Good morning Javi,” you murmur, voice quiet as you take the drink from his hand.

Javi studies your face, concern etching his features. "Hey, you alright? You look like you've been through the wringer."

He takes in your red-rimmed eyes, the tightness in your shoulders, and the slight shakiness in your hands.

“Mhm,” you let out a strangled sigh as you leave the room, locking the door behind you.

Javi falls into step beside you as you make your way down the hall. He glances sideways at you, his forehead creased.

"You sure you want to head out today?" he asks gently. "You look exhausted."

“Yeah, of course.” You give him a forced smile, “I'm great, just a little tired.” Your eyes fall on Scott’s back as he talks to one of the team members.

Dread fills your veins as you take in the scene in front of you. Javi follows your gaze, noticing the way you react to the sight of Scott. He shifts awkwardly, his eyes flickering between Scott and you.

"Uh, maybe you should-" he starts to say, but you cut him off abruptly.

“Let’s go get breakfast,” you intertwine your fingers with his as you lead him out the door.

Javi shoots another glance at Scott, a protective look in his eyes as you pull him outside. The sun is already high in the sky, and it's beginning to warm the air.

He doesn't say anything, simply allowing you to lead the way as he keeps pace beside you. He can sense the tension in your body, the way your hand grips his tightly.

You sit in the passenger side of Javi’s truck, sighing as you relax into the seat, eyes fluttering shut.

Javi can feel the weight of your tiredness in the way you sit next to him, the way your head rests back against the headrest. He watches you from the corner of his eye as he turns the key in the ignition.

As the truck comes to life, the engine rumbling underneath you, he speaks quietly. "You don't have to put on a brave face for me, you know."

Your lip quivers as you turn to look out the window. “Javi..” you sigh, tears building in your eyes.

Javi's heart clenches in his chest as he hears the shake in your voice, the way it trembles as you say his name. He reaches out, his hand finding yours on the console and squeezes it gently.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. "You can talk to me. It's okay."

“It’s Scott..” you take a deep breath, “uh we slept together and he left like nothing happened.” A tear slips from your eye as you bite your cheek, turning to look at him.

Javi's eyes widen in surprise, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "What? You slept with Scott?"

He glances over at you, taking in the tears in your eyes, the pain etched into your face. His protective nature kicks in, and he pulls the truck off the road.

“I thought,” you purse your lips, “I thought he felt the same way I did, but I guess it was just him trying to get some.” Your tone gets more irritated the more you speak.

Javi rubs a hand over his face, clearly frustrated with the situation. "That idiot," he mutters under his breath. He knows Scott has feelings for you, something more than just lust, yet he screwed up his chances with you in the span of one night.

He looks at you, his eyes soft with concern. "Hey, you know Scott's always been a bit... careless when it comes to relationships."

You nod, taking a deep breath and steeling your expression. “I know, I should’ve known better..” Javi brushes away your tears.

The day dragged on, each moment feeling heavier than the last as you tried to ignore the storm brewing inside you. You focused on the tasks at hand, the mundane activities of packing up your gear and checking weather reports, all while avoiding Scott's piercing gaze.

He had retreated to his own space, his eyes dark with regret and confusion. You knew you had to keep your distance; the tension was palpable, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie you once shared.

Javi, ever the perceptive friend, noticed the shift in your demeanor and the cold shoulder you were giving Scott. He tried to keep the peace, cracking jokes and steering conversations away from the unspoken elephant in the room. His attempts to lighten the mood were met with forced laughter, the tension stretching tauter with each passing hour.

“Let’s go to a bar.” You suggest as Javi starts the engine. “There’s one right next to the motel,”

Javi raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, a small grin playing at the corner of his lips. "You sure that's a good idea?"

He can sense the need to blow off some steam in your voice, and he knows there's no stopping you now that you've made up your mind.

“It’ll be great,” you smile at him as he pulls out into the street. Scott’s vehicle trails behind you along with the rest of the team. Javi lets them know that you’re going to the bar tonight.

After a short drive, you arrive at the bar next to the motel. It's a small, dive-bar type establishment, with a neon sign out front that flickers in the evening light.

As you get out of the car, Scott rolls up on your left, parking his vehicle alongside you. He hops out of his car, he saunters over to you and Javi.

You ignore his presence, grabbing Javi’s hand as you lead him to the entrance. Javi doesn't miss the way you purposefully avoid even looking in Scott's direction, but he decides to play along, keeping his focus solely on you.

When you reach the door, Javi opens it for you, and the two of you step inside. The bar is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. A few patrons are already scattered around, some playing pool, others watching the game on the old television set in the corner.

A few drinks in, Javi leaves to get some fresh air, leaving you alone at the table. Scott comes up to you, his face hardened as he takes a seat next to you, you avoid his gaze.

Scott sits down heavily in the chair next to you, the sound of his weight hitting the hard wood making you flinch slightly. He leans in, close enough that you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"We need to talk," he says gruffly, his voice low.

“Why?” You turn away from him, giving him the cold shoulder.

Scott scowls at you, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t give me that attitude. We need to talk about what happened."

He grabs your arm, trying to turn you back towards him, but you stubbornly resist. Scott's grip tightens, his fingers biting into your flesh.

You move to pull his hand away, “I don’t feel like talking, Scott.” Your eyes are full of unshed tears as you look at him.

Scott's expression softens slightly when he sees the look in your eyes, a sense of guilt flickering in his own gaze. He loosens his grip on your arm but doesn’t let go.

"I know I was a dick, okay," he mutters, looking away. "But that doesn’t change the fact that we clearly need to talk."

“Scott, just leave it alone.” You get out of your seat, walking toward the exit.

Scott clenches his jaw, annoyed by your stubborn refusal to engage with him. He follows after you, reaching out to grab your wrist.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asks through gritted teeth.

“Are you fucking drunk? Leave me alone.” You pull out of his grasp, successfully leaving the bar, Scott still hot on your heels.

Scott catches up to you just as you exit the bar, the cool night air hitting your face. He wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest and holding you in place.

His voice is softer now, the edges of annoyance faded. "Please, just listen to me."

“Scott,” you gasp his name, shocked by his hold on you. “Please stop, please. I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

Scott tightens his grip, pulling you even closer against him. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of your perfume.

"It's not an excuse," he murmurs, his warm breath tickling your ear. "I was scared, okay? Scared of what I was feeling."

You shiver in response, hands moving to pull his arms away. “Scott..”

Scott resists your attempts to pull away, holding you firmly against him, arms wrapped around your body like a steel trap.

"Please," he pleads, his voice low and urgent. "Just listen to me. I messed up, okay? I know I did. But I thought-" He stops, taking a deep breath, his words getting caught in his throat.

“Thought what?” You murmur, still pulling at his arms, trying to wiggle away from him.

Scott lets out a frustrated growl, his grip on you tightening even more as he leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, just below your ear.

"I thought walking away would make it easier," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it didn’t. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left your room this morning."

“You know that’s not fair.” You sigh, stilling your movements as you relax in his arms.

Scott takes advantage of your pause, pressing his body even closer against you, his muscular frame molding to the curves of your body.

He nips gently at your neck, a low moan escaping from his throat as he speaks. "I know. I’m an idiot." You gasp at his lips against your skin.

He runs his hands down your sides, coming to rest on your hips, his fingers gripping the flesh tightly.

"But I can’t stop thinking about you, about the way your body felt under mine. The way you responded to me, the way you cried out my name-" Scott cuts himself off with another low moan, his breath hot against your skin, the desire in his voice undeniable.

“Scott, I..” you groan, body reacting to his touch. Scott relishes in your response, his hands moving back up to grip your hips, pulling you even closer so that your back is pressed firmly against his chest.

He kisses your neck, his lips tracing a path up to your earlobe, where he bites down gently. "Say my name again," he husks, his voice gravelly and filled with need.

“Scott, stop it..” you move out of his grasp, head spinning with desire and your stubbornness.

Scott growls at your resistance, and in a quick move, he pins you against the wall of the building, trapping you between the solid brick and his hard body.

His eyes are darkened with desire, his face mere inches away from yours. "Stop what? Stop touching you? Stop wanting you?" He leans in even closer, his voice a deep, rough whisper.

“Quit trying to sweet talk me,” you sigh, head leaning against the wall as his lips work against your neck.

Scott chuckles darkly, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he nips at your skin. "Sweet talk you? I'm not trying to sweet talk you, sweetheart. I'm telling you the truth."

He moves one of his legs in between yours, effectively trapping you even further. His fingers trail over your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

You push at his chest, “Scott, not here.” He relishes the sight of your eyes, the way they're filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, and he can almost feel the fight leaving your body.

Scott steps back, his chest heaving from the effort it took to resist his own desires. His eyes rake over your body, taking in the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way your cheeks are flushed with desire and frustration.

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, his expression apologetic as he meets your gaze. "Please, I need one more chance. I won't screw it up again, I swear."

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Scott wraps his arms around you once again, pulling you in close. He buries his face in your hair and inhales deeply, relishing in the feeling of having you so close.

"I won't walk away again," he murmurs, his voice tinged with emotion. "I promise, I'll stay, just give me a chance to prove it to you." You sigh while giving into him.

“Please don’t leave again..” your arms wrap around his waist loosely. Scott tightens his hold on you, pressing you even closer against him. His heart leaps in his chest at the sound of your voice, the raw vulnerability in your words.

"Never again," he murmurs, his lips pressing against the top of your head in a tender kiss. "I won't walk away from you. I promise."

You nod against him, body fully relaxing into his. Scott feels the moment you surrender to him, your body softening in his arms, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

He cradles you against him, his hands roaming your back in soothing circles. "I’ve got you," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your hair. "I won’t let go."

You lean back, searching his eyes for any deception, seeing none you lean in for a gentle kiss.

Scott melts under your kiss, his body aching for the taste of your lips. He lets out a soft sigh as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

He holds your body against his, his hands roaming over your back and hips, as if he can’t get enough of touching you.

Scott's eyes never leave yours as he takes your hand, leading you back to the motel. The air is thick with unspoken words and the weight of the unresolved tension between you. As you reach his room, he opens the door, his gaze intense and filled with determination.

He pulls you inside, the door clicking shut behind you, the final barrier between the tumultuous world and the passion that simmers just beneath the surface of your relationship. His arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly against his chest, his heart beating a staccato rhythm that echoes the thunderstorm in your own chest.

His lips find yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate, as if trying to devour the regret of the morning. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as he helps you shed the layers of your clothing, revealing the soft, welcoming warmth of your skin.

This time, there's no rush, no racing heartbeats to the crescendo. It's a slow dance of exploration, a silent promise that this isn't just a fleeting moment of passion but the beginning of something much more profound. Rain patters against the window, serenading your reunion, as Scott lays you on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his gaze never straying from your eyes.

With a groan, Scott rolls onto his back, pulling you along with him so that you're straddling his hips. His eyes are dark with need as he looks up at you, his hands moving to grip your waist, guiding you into position. You lean over him, your breasts brushing against his chest, the heat of your skin melding together as the storm outside reaches its peak.

He lifts his hips, his erection pressing against your wetness, and you bite your lip, the anticipation of feeling him fill you again making your stomach clench with desire. With a slow, deliberate move, you lower yourself onto him, sheathing him in your warmth. His eyes never leave yours as you start to move, your hips rising and falling in a rhythm that matches the steady beat of the rain on the window.

Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, the intensity building with every movement. The power dynamic has shifted, and now you're in control, dictating the pace, the depth, the very essence of your connection. Scott's hands roam your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

His eyes glaze over with passion, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you bring him closer to the edge. You lean down, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss, the sound of the rain a constant backdrop to the symphony of your love-making. His hands tighten on your hips, urging you faster, deeper.

With a moan that's swallowed by his lips, your hips move faster, riding the wave of pleasure that Scott's skilled touch brings forth. Your eyes are locked on his, the intensity in them making you feel exposed, yet safe at the same time.

The sound of the rain is the only soundtrack to your passion as you move together, your bodies in perfect harmony. And then it hits you—the orgasm that's been building since the moment his lips first touched yours. It crashes over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and making your body convulse.

You cling to him, nails digging into his skin as you ride out the storm of sensation, your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock. Scott groans beneath you, the feeling of your climax pushing him closer to his own. His eyes never leave yours, the blue depths of them filled with a mix of passion and something more, something that makes your heart race even faster.

As your tremors begin to subside, you collapse onto him, your breaths mingling in the damp air, the rain outside a gentle lullaby to the aftermath of your love-making. And as you lie there, tangled in each other's arms, you know that you've found something that's just as powerful and unpredictable as the forces of nature you both chase—a love that's as wild and uncontrollable as the very storms themselves.

Scott gently slides out of you, turning you on your side so that you're facing away from him. He wraps his arms around you, his chest to your back, and pulls you close, his hand splaying over your stomach as he presses tender kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers sweet nothings, his voice a comforting rumble that soothes the storm that had been raging inside of you. You sigh contentedly, feeling the tension in your body slowly uncoil as his warmth surrounds you, his heartbeat a steady metronome against your own. His hand moves in slow, lazy circles on your stomach, each caress a silent promise of the passion that still burns within him.

His erection is still firm against your backside, a testament to his desire, but he's in no rush to take you again. Instead, he holds you tightly, his legs entwined with yours, as if afraid that if he lets go, the moment will be lost forever. His touch is tender, almost reverent, as if he's worshiping every inch of your skin.

You snuggle closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of his arm across your waist, a reassuring presence that grounds you amidst the chaos of your swirling emotions. The world outside seems so far away, so insignificant compared to the sanctuary you've found in each other's arms.

And as the last droplets of rain tap against the window, you drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady beat of Scott's heart and the gentle embrace of his arms, feeling more alive and connected than you ever have before.

You jolt awake, anxiety filling you as you notice the bed empty once again. You sit up in the bed, looking around the room with worry, before noticing Scott coming out of the bathroom.

Scott notices the panicked look on your face as he slips back into bed next to you. "Hey, relax," he says softly, his hand coming to rest on your back, rubbing gently in small circles. He pulls you in close against him, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you snugly against his chest. "I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

You press your cheek to his chest as you cuddle closer, “You scared me…” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you bask in his body heat.

Scott tightens his arms around you, holding you close as he peppers your hair with soft kisses. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his voice filled with regret. "I didn’t mean to scare you." He can feel the tension in your body slowly melting away as you relax against him, and he rubs your back soothingly. "I’m here now. It’s okay."

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