#fast and furious fluff

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Fast and Furious Saga Fandom Masterlist

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[keehomania]

act a fool — rcm (18+)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ smut, fluff, slowburn, swearing, fast & furious elements, reckless driving, drunk driving, enemies to lovers, gun use, crashout!rafe, kook/pogue dynamic, eventual smut, minors dni, drop! 2 fast, drop! 2 furious

there was a world on the island that went beyond the surface-level rivalry between the rich and the poor, one that thrived off something the two tribes both loved, made into a competition. a good alternator, lubrication, a solid engine—things that led to the adrenaline rush they couldn't get from their gas station beer or firing their dad’s gun. it was the wind in their hair and the money they knew they’d get from it if they were good enough.

you had moved to outer banks when you first heard the rumors, striking up your fancy as you pondered finally being able to live up to your father’s name. he had made a name for himself when he was your age, on that very island, and you were determined to honor it as much as you could. he was what the islanders considered a pogue, and so were you. you weren’t ashamed of it—it was just the way things were. and you weren’t ashamed of him either.

“that’s good, guys. right there,” you said, your voice carrying over the low hum of conversation and the clang of tools against metal. workers shuffled around the shop, hoisting equipment into place and unrolling cords across the smooth concrete floor. the building was nothing fancy—cinderblock walls painted a clean white and a pair of garage doors wide enough to fit the biggest cars on the island—but it stood out amidst the weathered, sun-bleached shops and homes that made up the cut. that was the point. it needed to catch their eye, needed to show them that even a pogue could make something worth noticing.

the smell of fresh paint mingled with the faint tang of oil and grease, scents that already felt like home. a sleek hydraulic lift sat in one corner, freshly bolted into place, while a row of shiny toolboxes lined the back wall. you’d spent months saving for those, cutting corners wherever you could, taking extra shifts at the docks, and bartering favors to make it happen. now, they gleamed like trophies.

your gaze drifted to the wall above the toolboxes, where you’d hung a photo in a simple black frame. it was an old shot, the colors slightly faded—a younger version of you standing beside your father, both of you grinning ear to ear with a grease-streaked hood open behind you. he’d always said, “it doesn't matter if it's by an inch, or by a mile—winning is winning,” and you’d carried those words like a mantra, applying them not just to the races but to everything else in life. fixing cars, building this shop—it didn’t matter how long it took or how many setbacks you faced. progress was progress.

you smiled faintly as you brushed a bit of dust off the frame, imagining the way his eyes would light up if he saw what you’d built. he’d be proud, you were sure of it.

“hey, boss, where’d you want this?” one of the workers called out, interrupting your thoughts. he was holding a heavy-duty air compressor, shifting his weight under its bulk.

“over there, by the second bay,” you directed, pointing toward the far end of the shop where a workstation was slowly coming together. a workbench stood half-assembled, and you could already envision it cluttered with tools and parts, the heart of the operation.

as they hauled the compressor into place, you moved to another corner where a small office space had been carved out. the desk was secondhand, its surface worn and scratched, but you’d given it a fresh coat of varnish that brought out the grain of the wood. a laptop and a stack of invoices sat neatly on top, alongside a mug that still smelled faintly of the coffee you’d downed that morning.

outside, the rumble of engines drifted through the open garage doors, reminding you why you were doing this. the underground racing scene was cutthroat, a place where the line between rivalries and respect blurred in the haze of burning rubber and roaring engines. you’d need every edge you could get, and this shop was going to be your base, your sanctuary, and your weapon all at once. satisfied with the progress, you stepped back to take it all in. the shop wasn’t finished yet, but it was getting there.

it was hard to snap you out of your thoughts, but an unfamiliar voice had done its job.

“this your shop?”

you cocked your head to the right, meeting the friendly gaze of a man you didn’t recognize. he looked to be in his early twenties, taller than you, with tan skin, sun-bleached blond hair, and arms that suggested he spent more time surfing than doing anything car-related.

“yeah,” you replied coolly, the edge in your tone natural. “getting there.”

he took a step forward, his gaze sweeping over the shop with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. “no kidding,” he said, grinning wide enough to light up the room. “the cut doesn’t have any good mechanics. shitty parts, shitty people. i was getting my dodge fixed the other day, and the guy was totally drunk…”

he kept talking, his words tumbling out one after another, like he couldn’t stop himself. you guessed it was nerves—the way he kept glancing around, his hands fidgeting in his pockets.

“shit, i’m sorry,” he said abruptly, realization dawning on his face. he stopped in his tracks and ran a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. “i’m jj maybank. sorry for rambling.”

you didn’t know anyone on the island yet, and he seemed harmless enough, with a disarming charm that wasn’t exactly unwelcome. you extended your hand. “nice to meet you, (y/n) (l/n).”

his handshake was firm but friendly, his smile genuine as he asked, “you a racer? mechanic?”

“whatever i wanna be,” you replied with a casual shrug.

jj’s grin widened, impressed by your confidence. “i like your enthusiasm.”

he stepped further into the shop, his curiosity getting the better of him as he started to examine everything. he crouched to inspect the hydraulic lift, nodded in approval at the toolboxes, and paused by the engine stand, where a half-dismantled v8 waited for your attention.

“what’re you doing to this one?” he asked, gesturing toward the engine.

“rebuilding it,” you replied without missing a beat. “block had a crack, so i welded it. now i’m just replacing the camshaft and lifters.”

jj blinked, clearly surprised. “you did the welding yourself?”

“yeah. why?”

he let out a low whistle, his admiration obvious. “most people would’ve scrapped it, don’t you know?”

you smirked but didn’t respond, letting him wander through the shop. he asked more questions as he went, quizzing you about everything from the tuning process to the differences between turbochargers and superchargers. you answered each question easily, and his impressed nods became more frequent. when he reached the back wall, he stopped abruptly, his eyes landing on the photo of your father. he stepped closer, studying it with reverence.

“you’ve met him?” he asked, his voice quieter, almost awed. “dude’s like my hero.”

tension settled in the air as you replied, your voice steady but firm, “well, i’d hope so. dude’s like my dad.”

jj turned to you, his mouth slightly open, his expression stunned. “you’re joking.”

you folded your arms, your gaze steady. “dead serious.”

“bullet?” he asked, his voice rising. “the bullet? your dad?”

you nodded, the weight of the moment pressing down on you thanks to the rather spontaneous topic. but it was gonna come up at some point, you knew that. jj looked back at the photo, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “that’s insane. he was a legend. the races, the cars, everything. i mean, he’s the reason i even started racing in the first place.”

“he’s the reason i came here,” you said quietly, your eyes flicking to the photo. “wanted to honor his name. his legacy. that’s why i started this shop.”

jj was silent for a moment, clearly processing everything. his mind was working—though you could tell it didn’t happen often—until something lit up in his eyes. when jj maybank got a good idea, it wasn’t often, but it was always worth considering.

“what if,” he started, pausing to make sure you were listening. “what if you drove with the pogues?”

you blinked, caught off guard. “drove with you?”

“yeah,” he said eagerly, the excitement building in his voice. “we’re always looking for drivers, and with what you know? you’d be perfect. plus, your dad’s reputation alone would make waves.”

you thought about it, letting the weight of the opportunity settle over you. your father’s voice echoed in your mind, reminding you that he’d always been one to take a chance. winning is winning. finally, you nodded. “i’m in.”

jj had spent the next hour perched on the edge of a worn metal table, watching you in silence. his gaze tracked every movement of your hands as you worked on the motorcycle in front of you, the harsh fluorescent lights of the shop casting a sharp glow over the sleek black paint. he was fascinated, though he tried not to make it too obvious.

the motorcycle wasn’t anything special—just a kawasaki with a busted fuel pump you’d been hired to fix. you’d dismantled it with expert precision, the kind that made even jj, someone who lived for speed, pause in appreciation.

“that’s not your ride, is it?” he finally asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.

you clicked your tongue in mild irritation at the interruption, but your answer was sharp and clear. “not a fan of anything with two wheels. only use them if i have to.”

“so what is your ride?”

you glanced up at him, smirking. “in the back.”

jj raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “wanna show me?”

you finished tightening the bolts on the fuel pump, wiped your hands on a nearby rag, and straightened up. “sure. why not?”

he hopped off the table, following you eagerly as you wheeled the motorcycle into place and locked up the shop. when you led him to the garage at the back, he couldn’t hide the anticipation bubbling beneath the surface. his mind raced with possibilities. a supra? a skyline? he had already started placing bets with himself. whatever it was, he could already tell it’d be something worth seeing.

the garage door groaned in protest as you unlocked it and slid it open. the smell of oil and gasoline hit him first, but his attention snapped to the vehicle parked in the center of the space.

“no fucking way,” he exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer. his hands hovered over the car, reverent, before finally making contact. “camaro?”

you nodded, leaning casually against the garage wall, watching him with amusement. “z/28,” you clarified.

“but the z/28 isn’t supposed to be out yet,” he said, his voice full of disbelief. “not until next year.”

you shrugged, smirking. “rules don’t apply to everyone, maybank. what’d you think?”

jj turned to you, his eyes wide and pleading, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. he didn’t have to say a word for you to understand what he was asking.

“you wanna take her for a spin, don’t you?” you teased.

he nodded furiously, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you tossed him the keys. “don’t wreck it,” you called after him as you slid into the passenger seat. “you’ll owe me an eight-second car if you do.”

he didn’t need any more encouragement. the engine roared to life as he turned the key, the deep, guttural sound filling the small garage. he gripped the wheel with a wide grin, barely containing his excitement. the camaro tore out of the driveway and onto the street, its tires screeching as he pushed the gas pedal to the floor. the car was smooth, powerful, and perfect—a beast on wheels.

“holy shit,” jj breathed, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “this thing is unreal.”

“told you,” you replied, smirking as you leaned back in your seat, your eyes on the road. “handles like a dream, doesn’t it?”

“more than a dream. gotta be in heaven or some shit.”

he shifted gears with practiced ease, the camaro responding to every command as though it was an extension of himself. the wind whipped through the open windows, and the sound of the engine reverberated in your chest. the drive to the pogues’ shop didn’t take long, though jj seemed to savor every second of it. when he pulled up, the building came into view—a far cry from your setup.

the shop was rough around the edges, just like the pogues themselves. the walls were made of weathered wood, the roof patched in places where time and storms had taken their toll. a rusted sign hung crookedly above the door, reading “outer banks auto parts.” the front yard was littered with old car parts and broken tools, a makeshift graveyard for vehicles long since stripped for parts.

jj parked the camaro carefully, as if it was made of glass, before jumping out and grinning at you. “welcome to paradise,” he said with a laugh, gesturing toward the shop. you stepped out, taking in the scene. it was rural, gritty, and undeniably pogue, but there was something charming about it. something real. something your father would have respected.

yoy let your gaze drift over the pogues’ shop, taking in its rough exterior and cluttered front yard. the place had character, you’d give it that—old wooden walls bleached gray by the sun, mismatched patches on the tin roof, and rusted car parts scattered around like they were part of the decor. it was the polar opposite of your shop, but it felt honest in a way that was hard to ignore.

“this is nice,” you said after a moment. “real earthy.”

jj rolled his eyes, smirking. “it’s okay, you can be mean. i can take it.”

you shrugged, letting a sly grin play on your lips. “alright, it’s pretty shitty. but it’s practical.”

“damn straight it is,” he laughed, walking around to your side of the car and gesturing for you to follow him inside.

the moment you stepped into the shop, you felt like you didn’t belong. the interior was as mismatched as the outside—a haphazard mix of tools, parts, and personal touches that somehow worked. it wasn’t the mess that made you feel out of place, though; it was the dynamic. you could tell right away that these people were a family, and you were the outsider walking into their world.

“guys!” jj called, his voice echoing in the small space. “got someone you need to meet!”

the group turned toward you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and friendliness.

“this is john b,” he started, clapping a hand on the shoulder of a tall guy with messy hair and an easy smile. “our fearless leader, or something like that, kind of glazing him.”

the man grinned and offered you his hand, “nice to meet you.”

“and that’s sarah, his girlfriend,” jj continued, gesturing to the blonde girl beside john b. she had a warm, welcoming smile that immediately put you at ease.

“hey,” she said, stepping forward and giving you a quick hug. “it’s great to meet you.”

“over here, we’ve got pope,” jj said, nodding to a guy who was leaning over a disassembled engine, his hands covered in grease. “he’s the brains of the operation. technical genius.”

pope looked up, wiping his hands on a rag and offering you a firm handshake. “nice to meet you. you a racer or a mechanic?”

“both,” you said with a small smile.

pope raised an eyebrow, impressed. “good to know. we could use someone with your skills around here.”

“and this is cleo, pope’s girlfriend,” jj said, pointing to a girl with short, dark hair and a sharp, confident demeanor.

“finally, another girl around here,” cleo said with a grin. “it’s a relief, i tell you. what’s your pick?”

before you could answer, jj jumped in. “that’s the best part. she’s not just a racer or a mechanic. her dad, dude? her dad was bullet.” the room fell silent.

“that’s not funny, j,” john b said after a moment, running a hand through his hair in disbelief.

“it’s true,” you said, your voice steady. “he’s the reason i’m here. wanted to honor his name and his legacy.” the weight of your words settled over the group, their expressions shifting from shock to admiration.

kiara, who had been quiet until now, smiled and crossed her arms. “well, it’s a good thing you’re here, then. our cars are busted to hell, and we don’t have enough hands to fix them.”

pope nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed in thought. “think you’re up for it?”

jj scoffed, rolling his eyes. “what kind of question is that? did you see the babe she rolled up in?”

sarah exchanged a glance with pope before turning back to you, curiosity lighting up her eyes. “okay, i have to ask. what do you ride?”

you pointed to the camaro parked outside, its bright orange paint gleaming in the sunlight.

“no way,” john b said, walking to the door to get a better look.

“bless your heart,” sarah said, pulling you into another hug.

the guys crowded around your camaro like kids at a candy store, their voices blending into an excited buzz. they ran their hands over the sleek orange paint, marveling at the flawless bodywork and muttering about its specs. you let them admire it, knowing the car deserved every ounce of awe it was getting. instead, you leaned back against the shop wall, folding your arms as the girls joined you.

“that’s some ride you got there,” kiara said, her tone more genuine than envious. her sharp features softened slightly as she looked between you and the camaro.

“thanks,” you replied, watching the boys from the corner of your eye. “seems like it’s already making an impression.”

she laughed lightly. “you came at the perfect time. we’ve got a big one coming up tonight.”

her words piqued your interest immediately. “big one?” you echoed, tilting your head.

sarah and cleo exchanged knowing glances before sarah leaned in slightly. “the kooks,” she said with a mix of irritation and anticipation. “we’re supposed to race them again tonight.”

you furrowed your brow, intrigued by her tone. “tonight?”

“yup,” kiara answered, a flicker of disdain crossing her face. “they’ve got their shiny cars and their squeaky-clean reputations, but they’re dirty as hell when it comes to racing.”

“they can race up front,” cleo added, nodding toward the shop’s door, “since they’ve got the cops under their thumb. us?” she gestured around dramatically. “we’ve got to be more lowkey. hence the shop.”

your gaze wandered to the garage’s cluttered interior and then back to them. “what’s the winning streak like?”

the girls shared a look that told you everything you needed to know before sarah even said, “not great.”

“not great?” you pressed, arching a brow.

kiara let out a frustrated sigh. “the kooks have everything. better cars, better drivers, and they don’t play fair. we’re lucky if we finish a race without something going wrong.”

“or someone crashing,” cleo added pointedly.

sarah’s expression darkened slightly. “especially when rafe’s involved.”

“rafe?” you repeated.

“my brother,” she admitted reluctantly, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment.

“wait, hold on,” you said, straightening up. “your brother races against you?”

she nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “some people call him crash. others go with crashout. he’s—let’s just say he’s a dirty racer with a good car.”

the nickname didn’t ring any bells for you, and you shook your head. “never heard of him.”

sarah looked both relieved and mortified at the same time. “well, consider yourself lucky. he’s dangerous, and not just on the track.”

“not to mention a total asshole,” cleo muttered under her breath, earning a small laugh from kiara.

“where’s this race happening?” you asked, leaning forward slightly, intrigued.

kiara stepped in to explain. “figure eight. there’s a parking lot on prairie avenue between a few streets. that’s where everyone meets up. people bring their cars, check each other out, and if they’re feeling bold, they race.”

“and the problem?” you asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

“our cars are in the worst shape imaginable,” kiara admitted, her voice heavy with frustration.

you couldn’t help but grin. “well, good thing i’m here.”

the three girls looked at you, surprised by the confidence in your tone. “you’re really gonna help us?” sarah asked, her voice tentative but hopeful.

“yeah,” you said with a small nod, letting your eyes drift back to your camaro. “bring your cars to the shop tomorrow, and i’ll see what i can do.” the relief on their faces was evident, but you weren’t done. you hesitated for just a second, then added with a smirk, “but on one condition.”

cleo raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “what’s that?”

“we race tonight,” you said firmly, your gaze fixed on your camaro as the sun glinted off its polished surface.

the heat was relentless, even as the sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow over the dusty road. you could feel it seeping into every fiber of your clothing, making the denim of your shorts crease uncomfortably against your skin. the humidity clung to you like a second layer, and you tugged at the flap of your tank top, attempting to let even the smallest breath of air cool you down.

your thighs stuck together with every shift of your legs against the seat, and you found yourself leaning forward slightly, hoping the breeze coming through the open window would offer some relief. it didn’t, not really, but you were too focused on the directions pope was giving you to care too much. “left up here, then just keep going straight for a bit,” he said from the backseat, his voice steady and sure.

your hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel as you nodded, your eyes scanning the road ahead. each turn brought you closer to the meeting spot, and the thought of the race waiting for you settled like a heavy weight in your chest. jj sat beside you, his elbow propped against the window as he stared ahead—or at least he was supposed to be staring ahead. instead, his eyes kept darting to you.

he knew he should be focused on what was coming: the race, the cars, the adrenaline of it all. but sitting this close to you, he found himself completely distracted.

the way your tan lines peeked out from under your tank top, hinting at just how much time you’d spent in the sun. the way your shorts seemed to live up to their name, riding up just enough to make his throat dry. and then there was the sheen of sweat on your neck, trickling down to disappear under your shirt, making him lick his lips absentmindedly as he tried to focus on anything but how good you looked. It wasn’t working.

“you sure you’re cool with racing?” sarah’s voice broke through the tension, her words directed at you from the backseat where she leaned comfortably against john b’s chest.

you glanced at her briefly in the rearview mirror before returning your focus to the road. “why wouldn’t i be?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral.

she shrugged, though the concern in her voice remained. “they could put you up against rafe, for all you know. he doesn’t exactly play fair.”

your stomach churned slightly at the thought. you weren’t afraid of racing—not in the slightest. losing didn’t scare you either. but being humiliated by someone like rafe cameron? a dirty racer with too much confidence and too little morality? that was a whole other story. you swallowed the knot forming in your throat and shrugged one shoulder, keeping your gaze firmly ahead as the scenery began to shift. the buildings thinned out, replaced by open stretches of road and the occasional cluster of trees.

“we’ll see,” you said simply, your voice steady despite the unease twisting in your gut. it was all you could manage.

as the city gave way to open roads, you began to notice a shift in the atmosphere. people, crowds. they were scattered along the sides of the road, gathering near the parking lot pope had mentioned. the thrum of engines filled the air, a low hum that vibrated through your chest and sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. there was no turning back now.

the meeting was unlike anything you had imagined. cars were everywhere, of all makes and models, their glossy exteriors illuminated by the flickering streetlights overhead. the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber mixed with the salty tang of the sea breeze, a stark reminder of the island setting. music blasted from several vehicles, creating a chaotic symphony that drowned out the distant crash of waves.

people milled about in groups, leaning against cars or crouching near open hoods, talking shop or simply passing time. they ranged from sun-kissed surfers in board shorts to mechanics with grease-stained hands, and even the occasional tourist drawn in by the allure of rebellion. this wasn’t just a car meet—it was a full-blown spectacle. you had never seen anything like it on such a small island.

guided by pope's directions, you navigated the camaro into an open space, sliding it neatly beside a sleek motorcycle. the rumble of the engine ceased, leaving an almost deafening silence in its absence. you exhaled deeply, your fingers lingering on the steering wheel before glancing over at jj, who was already grinning like he owned the place.

“let’s go, hotshot,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

with a roll of your eyes, you pushed the door open, stepping out into the crisp night air. it was a relief against your overheated skin, instantly making the effort of the journey feel worth it. you stretched your legs, groaning softly as the ache from sitting too long set in. leaning against the hood, you extended one leg at a time, trying to shake the feeling back into them.

“my legs are killing me,” you muttered, leaning back as you let your body relax against the car’s warm surface.

jj chuckled, already fishing something out of his pocket. a small flick of a lighter revealed the joint he’d pulled free, and he tucked it between his lips with practiced ease. he took a slow drag, letting the smoke curl around his lips before catching the look on your face.

“what?” he asked, his grin lazy. “cops won’t be here for a while. might as well relax.”

you narrowed your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. when he passed the joint to you, you didn’t hesitate, taking it between your fingers and mimicking his earlier drag. the burn was sharp, and the faint haze that followed was just enough to steady your nerves. as you passed it back, you began to notice the shift in attention around you. whispers spread through the crowd, heads turning toward the camaro with curious gazes. it wasn’t just because of the car—it was because of you.

the pogues showing up at a meet like this wasn’t exactly uncommon, but showing up in a ride like this? that was unheard of.

one gaze, in particular, lingered longer than the others. it belonged to a tall, lean man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow under the streetlights. his stance was rigid, his jaw clenched, and his expression was a mixture of confusion and unbridled fury. you met his gaze head-on, your lips curling into a subtle smirk as you passed the joint back to jj.

“whose ride is it?” the man’s voice rang out, cutting through the chatter like a knife. conversations died instantly, leaving the air heavy with tension. “whose fucking ride is it?”

john b and jj exchanged a glance, both clearly ready to jump in and defend you, but you weren’t about to let anyone fight this battle for you.

“why?” you called back, your tone laced with casual confidence. “you like her?”

the man’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer as he stepped closer. “enough to know no damn pogue should be driving her,” he spat.

he stopped just a foot away, his presence looming. the girl clinging to his arm tightened her grip, her gaze flickering nervously between the two of you.

“that might be an issue,” you mused, feigning worry as you stepped away from the car. your smirk only deepened. “she’s all mine.”

the murmurs around you grew louder, and the man’s scowl deepened. he scanned the camaro like it was something out of place, something that didn’t belong—much like you.

“never seen you around before,” he said finally, his tone low and clipped. “yet here you are, driving a car that shouldn’t even be out yet. what’s your game?”

his question hung in the air like a challenge, his blue eyes boring into yours with an intensity that demanded submission. for a split second, you wavered, but then your gaze caught sarah’s in the crowd. her wide eyes and subtle shake of the head told you all you needed to know. that was him. that was rafe cameron.

“i’m here to race,” you said, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach. “what about you?”

gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd, the shock obvious. someone challenging rafe—crash—was a rare sight. doing so with such blatant confidence? absolutely unheard of.

rafe’s smirk returned, cruel and condescending as he turned to glance at his friends. “shit, almost feels mean, y’know?” he drawled. the smirk vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a cold, predatory look. “but i guess you’re asking for it, yeah?”

you shrugged, refusing to let him see even a hint of the unease simmering beneath your calm exterior. pulling your wallet from your back pocket, you thumbed through the bills inside before pulling out a neat stack.

“three grand sound okay?”

jj and john b’s heads whipped toward you, their expressions a mix of disbelief and panic. “dude, you sure she’s not a dealer?” john b muttered under his breath, earning a smirk from jj.

rafe’s eyebrows shot up, surprised but clearly pleased by the amount. he reached out to take the cash, his smirk returning. “just kissing your minimum wage money goodbye,” he taunted.

you held his gaze, unflinching as you replied, “we’ll see.”

the moment the crowd began to gather around your camaro, a sense of tension hung in the air, thick and uneasy. every movement you made felt magnified—your every touch, every glance, being scrutinized by dozens of curious eyes. it was as if the crowd held its breath, watching not just the car but the story unfolding before them. some whispered to each other, eyes flicking between you and rafe, while others simply observed, waiting for something to happen.

kiara, standing off to the side, looked at you with concern etched across her face. her usually cool demeanor was cracked with worry. “you don’t have to do this,” she said softly, stepping closer to you, her voice filled with an unmistakable sense of care.

john b, leaning against the door, chimed in, his tone casual but tinged with unease. “yeah, seriously. this could just be a waste of money, and we don’t even know if it’s gonna be worth it.”

you could feel their eyes on you, the quiet insistence that you step back, that maybe this was too much. the worry in their voices almost made you hesitate, but you brushed it off. this wasn’t about money or the risk—it was about proving something. not to them. not to rafe. but to yourself.

without saying another word, you ignored their concerns, focusing on the task ahead. the crowd had thickened around you now, the murmurs of awe growing louder as the sleek camaro stood at the center of attention. it wasn’t just the car; it was you, the girl who’d shown up on the island with something the pogues rarely ever had—something new, something bold. you popped the hood, and the sound of the latch clicking was a signal to the crowd. you stepped forward, your fingers brushing the cold metal of the engine, making subtle adjustments as you moved with practiced ease.

“she’s really good,” sarah said from behind you, her voice laced with admiration.

rafe, standing with his friends and glaring at the scene before him, overheard the comment. he scoffed, trying to mask the flicker of doubt in his eyes. “good? please,” he muttered under his breath. in his mind, this was just another way to put the pogues in their place. if you could make it to the starting line, he figured, you’d be an easy target.

the kooks watched, standing in a small huddle, exchanging glances. but it wasn’t just the kooks you had to worry about. the crowd itself was becoming more animated, murmuring louder with every adjustment you made under the hood. jj, watching closely, exchanged a look with pope, both of them speechless at first. they couldn’t believe it—not in a million years. they thought they knew you, thought they’d seen every side of you. but this?

“you’re kidding, right?” pope said, eyes wide with disbelief. he took a cautious step forward, clearly in awe.

jj exhaled sharply, his eyes locked on what you were doing, his voice low as he tried to comprehend what was unfolding. “that’s good thinking.”

cleo, standing off to the side, seemed confused. she glanced between the three of them, wondering what they were seeing that she wasn’t. “what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice cutting through the noise.

but it wasn’t until you clicked something into place, securing the small device under the hood, that they all saw it. your hands wiped against your thighs, brushing off the excess grease from the engine.

“nitrous oxide,” jj finally spoke, a slow grin creeping onto his face. the pride in his voice was unmistakable, his confidence swelling as he looked at the sleek system you had just attached with ease.

pope's eyes were wide with shock, the realization dawning on him. “nitrous oxide,” he repeated, his tone almost reverent now. “you’ve got nitrous in there.”

jj chuckled, his grin broadening as he leaned back slightly, watching the reactions around him. “told you she was a pro.”

the camaro’s engine thrummed under your fingertips, the steady hum vibrating through your hands as you gripped the wheel tightly. you kept your eyes darting between your friends, who were standing by, watching the tense scene unfold with a mixture of nerves and excitement. each of them looked different, their faces reflecting their worry and disbelief, but they weren’t going to stop you. not now. the three grand, all of it, was in pope’s hands, and you were past the point of no return. then there was rafe.

he sat in the blue skyline beside you, the car that seemed like it was built for something other than street racing—a car that was sleek, dangerous, and made your skin crawl just by being too close to it. the paint job was dark, almost black in the night, with a glossy sheen that made it look like it was alive. the grill at the front, sharp and angular, gave the car an aggressive stance. the rims gleamed under the streetlights, and the custom body work screamed money and power—a car meant for someone who never had to worry about getting caught.

rafe leaned back in the driver’s seat, his smirk irritatingly smug, his eyes gleaming with the confidence of someone who knew he could win. the kooks, standing on the sidelines, weren’t giving him the same level of attention they’d given you. they didn’t see you as a threat, not yet. rafe was everything they believed in—money, power, status.

he rolled down his window and glanced at you, eyes filled with disdain, the condescension oozing from his every movement. “you can still quit, walk away with some dignity,” he called, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. his smirk only deepened as he waited for your response.

you gripped the wheel harder, ignoring the slight tremor in your hands. “i’d rather walk out with three grand,” you shot back, trying to sound steady, your voice not betraying the nervousness you felt in your gut.

rafe’s smirk faltered for a moment before morphing into something darker, more sinister, like a predator sizing up its prey. he didn’t respond. the air between you thickened, charged with the bitter taste of impending tension. you couldn’t back down now.

the countdown began, and the sound of the crowd intensified, murmurs flowing like a wave through the crowd. you adjusted your grip, eyes locking on the red lights ahead, each second stretching on forever. rafe’s skyline revved beside you, his engine purring in a way that sent chills down your spine, the sound of it cutting through the night like a warning.

three.

two.

one.

the lights flickered green.

without hesitation, you slammed your foot on the pedal, the camaro lurching forward as the engine roared to life. your heart hammered against your chest as the world blurred around you, the rush of adrenaline flooding every inch of your body. you didn’t even think—your focus was singular, your vision narrowed to the street ahead of you.

but rafe wasn’t just racing. no, he had something else in mind. he took the lead, his car shooting ahead with the kind of precision that came from years of practice. you could hear the engine of his skyline growling as he sped ahead, his tires gripping the pavement with ease. his technique was flawless—he was smooth, cutting through the curves with a level of control that made it seem like he had done this a hundred times before. but you weren’t out yet.

with a fierce push, you hit the button for the nitrous, the world around you instantly transforming. the sudden surge of speed jerked your body back into the seat, the force of the gas shooting the camaro forward in an explosive burst. the crowd gasped, eyes widening as the car roared past rafe, cutting through the air like a bullet.

the street blurred past in flashes—streetlights, dark corners, distant buildings, all a streak of color and light as you shot forward. the world felt like it was moving in slow motion while your heartbeat raced to match the speed of the camaro. rafe’s skyline was already fading into the distance, his once confident smirk now replaced by the flash of surprise that barely registered before your car overtook him.

you were ahead. you could feel it, the surge of power under the hood, the tight grip of the steering wheel as you maneuvered through the streets with precision. the sounds of tires screeching, engines roaring, the shouts of the crowd—it all felt distant, like it was happening to someone else. you were in the zone. the finish line was in sight. the end was near. but then you heard it. the sirens.

your heart lurched as you glanced in the rearview mirror, your pulse spiking. flashing lights flickered in the distance—red and blue dancing in the rearview mirror. the cops. you dared a glance to the side, your eyes catching rafe’s face. his smirk was back. of course it was. he knew exactly what was coming. the kooks got away with everything. you knew that. they always did, but you? you were just a pogue. the rules didn’t apply to them.

without thinking, you swerved sharply, the tires screeching as you turned hard onto a side street, your hands working the wheel with a frantic precision. you had to get away. you couldn’t be caught. not now. not when the finish line was so close. you pushed the pedal down harder, your foot practically cemented to the accelerator as you raced down the dark streets. the cops were gaining on you, but you couldn’t afford to let them close.

a sharp turn ahead forced you to slide the car sideways, the tires barely catching the slick pavement as you shot through the intersection, narrowly avoiding a crash. the camaro’s rear end fishtailed, and you gritted your teeth, feeling the car fight against you as you struggled to regain control. but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t.

you could hear the sirens growing fainter as you swerved back onto a familiar street, the one where the race had begun. your friends were still there, waiting, watching in shock as you came into view, just barely ahead of rafe, whose skyline was left trailing behind you. you pulled up, the camaro skidding slightly as you came to a stop. your heart was still pounding, but the adrenaline rush was starting to wear off. you barely had time to catch your breath before you yanked the door open, your legs unsteady as you practically fell out of the car.

the sound of sirens was growing distant now, the cops lost in the maze of streets behind you. but you were here. you made it. and you’d won.

the cheers from the crowd echoed in your ears, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. you didn’t have time to celebrate, not when the unmistakable wail of sirens grew louder behind you, chasing you down like a relentless predator. the victory you’d earned so hard, the three grand, the rush of taking down rafe—it was all slipping away as quickly as it had come.

“get in!” you shouted, your voice sharp as you cut through the noise of the crowd. you didn’t have to say it twice. kiara was already jumping into the backseat, followed quickly by the others. their faces were a mix of exhilaration and concern, realizing that the win wasn’t enough to guarantee freedom. the sirens were closing in, the lights flashing bright and blinding in your rearview mirror.

the rest of the crowd was scattering now, some of them cheering as they saw the drama unfold, while others realized what was happening and fled in fear of the cops. but you weren’t going to stop. not now. not after everything.

with a quick glance at your friends, you slammed your foot back onto the pedal, the camaro roaring to life as you surged forward, the engine growling under the strain. the car seemed to leap forward, the tires screeching against the pavement as you floored it, the gas pedal an extension of your will.

jj’s voice broke through the hum of the engine, his words barely audible over the chaos. “holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” he repeated, his voice cracking with disbelief as he held onto the door, clutching anything he could find to keep steady. you could feel his body jerking with every sharp turn, the force of the acceleration pulling everyone back into their seats.

none of them had ever felt anything like it. the rush was unlike anything they’d experienced, the car’s power and the nitrous giving them a surge of speed that was intoxicating. the scenery blurred into streaks of light and dark, the world outside narrowing into a tunnel as you pushed the camaro to its limits.

“you won,” kiara said, her voice filled with awe, trying to catch her breath from the sheer force of the ride.

you didn’t respond right away. sweat dripped down your temple, stinging your eyes as you focused on the road ahead, trying to block out the flashing red and blue behind you. it didn’t matter that you’d won. not when rafe had pulled every dirty trick in the book to make sure you wouldn’t get away unscathed.

“he rigged it,” you scoffed through gritted teeth, eyes darting to the rearview mirror again. “called the pigs.”

a heavy silence washed over the group. kiara’s breath hitched in the backseat, and pope’s expression hardened, the weight of the truth sinking in. they all knew what it meant.

“he knew he was gonna lose,” sarah spoke up, her voice tinged with disbelief, though she didn’t sound surprised. she knew how rafe operated. “he called them in advance.”

your fist slammed against the steering wheel, the impact reverberating up your arm as frustration bubbled over. you should’ve seen it. you should’ve known. your victory didn’t count when the police were already on your tail, and the realization stung more than the heat of the engine. you forced yourself to focus, to block out the anger and the regret. you had to get away. the sirens were almost unbearable now, but you couldn’t let them catch you. you needed a plan, a way out.

“where to now, pope?” you asked, your voice sharp but steady, trying to keep the panic from creeping into your tone.

he leaned forward from the backseat, his face illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard. “where they won’t expect it,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension. “tannyhill.”

the sound of loud music and laughter echoed throughout the expansive, chaotic mansion, but inside the game room, a tense silence hung heavily in the air. rafe’s anger was palpable, his fists slamming onto the pool table with such force that the glassware and ashtrays scattered in all directions. his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table, his eyes narrowed in pure frustration, as beads of sweat dotted his forehead.

“dude, what the fuck’s your problem?” topper asked, leaning against the doorframe, his brows furrowed in confusion.

rafe wiped his forehead roughly, trying to shake off the burning anger that seemed to radiate from every part of him. “got the cops on her,” kelce reminded him. “she didn't win.” he could see his friend was losing it, and he wasn’t sure what was worse—the fact that rafe had been outsmarted by a pogue, or that he was pissed off enough to go on a rampage.

“nah, man,” rafe growled, his fingers trembling as they pressed against the surface of the pool table. “you don’t get it.” his gaze sharpened, cold and menacing as he continued, his voice low and barely contained. “she's a pogue. shouldn't have had to call the cops in the first place.”

topper and kelce exchanged a concerned look, clearly aware that rafe’s pride had taken a hard hit, but unsure how to deal with it. kelce raised an eyebrow, pushing himself off the chair and giving rafe a sideways glance. “what’d you expect, man?” he asked, his voice carrying a touch of disbelief. “you know who her dad is.”

rafe’s attention snapped to his friend, his eyes darkening as he leaned in. “what’d you say?” his voice was a low growl, every syllable dripping with tension.

kelce didn’t flinch. “her dad, y’know? king of the road. bullet. you know, the one who used to run shit back in the day.” his words were casual, but there was a sense of finality to them. “word travels fast, bro. she came back, opened up her own auto shop, all for her pops.”

rafe froze. his fingers, still trembling, gripped the edge of the pool table, but his attention was now fixed on kelce. “bullet,” he muttered, a cold realization creeping into his voice. his mind began to race, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.

topper and kelce exchanged another glance, this time more wary than before, as they watched the slow burn of recognition in rafe’s eyes. kelce leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly as he clarified. “that bullet. not a different guy, the one you’re thinking of. the same bullet that faced ward twenty years ago.”

he paused, letting the weight of that sentence sink in, “the one who won.”

rafe’s jaw tightened, his muscles visibly tensing as the name echoed in his mind. bullet. his father’s old rival. the man who had humiliated rafe's father in a way that still stung to this day. now, the realization that your father—bullet—was the one behind you, fueling your ambition, was like a slap to the face.

rafe muttered something under his breath, a guttural sound that barely left his lips. the anger that had been boiling over now shifted into something darker, more dangerous. his eyes narrowed to slits as he dug a small bag of white powder from his pocket, the crinkling of the bag sounding too loud in the tense silence. he flipped open the bag, spilling the powder onto the pool table, his hands shaking as he used his black card to cut thin, meticulous lines.

“fuck,” he whispered under his breath as he stared at the lines. his hand trembled slightly as he rolled up a dollar bill, preparing to snort the powder. as he did, his mind began to focus, the fog of rage lifting ever so slightly, replaced by something more methodical. “i think we should,” rafe trailed off, his voice low and still shaky, the tremors not just from the drug but from something far more sinister.

he paused, his eyes fixed on his friends, who were both watching him closely. “well, rafe?” topper asked. “tell us, what's your great idea?”

“i think we should kill them all.”

the bass of the music hit you before you even stepped through the door, the pounding rhythm vibrating through your chest. it was the kind of house party that could only be thrown by someone who had too much money and too little to lose. the walls seemed to pulse with the sound of voices and laughter, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the tang of spilled drinks. people were scattered around, some lounging in the living room, others crowding the kitchen, while a few shady figures lurked in the corners, eyes darting around like they were waiting for something to go wrong.

pope, walking beside you, couldn’t help but notice the way your hands shook. it was subtle, but enough for him to notice. he glanced at you, concern written across his face. “on second thought,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, “i don’t think this is a good idea,” but you didn’t stop. it was too late now, the moment you’d stepped foot into the lion’s den. rafe was here, and the race might’ve been over, but this was far from finished.

jj trailed behind you, already making his way to the cooler in the corner, grabbing a beer. you noticed the smile on his face, the way his lips curled as if he was already relishing the thought of watching rafe squirm.

“what’re you smiling for?” you snapped, trying to steady yourself against the wave of tension that was crawling up your spine.

he shrugged, cracking open his beer. “not every day you get to see rafe cameron lose,” he said, his words carrying a hint of truth, but you knew it didn’t change the fact that rafe had played dirty. he’d made sure the victory didn’t feel real.

you barely had time to dwell on that before you heard a familiar voice. “hey!” john b called out. you turned to see him and sarah standing at the top of the stairs, grinning like they were in on some private joke. he had his arm wrapped around sarah's waist, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“we’re gonna—well, there’s something i gotta show sarah upstairs,” he said, his voice laced with playful mischief.

jj raised his beer and threw a wink their way. “you crazy kids have fun,” he called out, his voice dripping with enthusiasm.

the two of them disappeared up the stairs, leaving you to continue through the crowd. the house was a mix of people—some familiar, some not. there were a few faces you recognized from the high school halls, kids who never seemed to do much more than party and live off their family’s money. but then there were others, people with sharper eyes, a bit too much grit in their demeanor, lurking in the shadows. you could feel their gaze flicker over you, sizing you up like prey.

but you didn’t stop walking. you pushed forward through the mass of people, not caring if you brushed against anyone. not caring about anything except the feeling of knowing exactly where this was heading. and then you saw him.

he was standing near the back, surrounded by his usual crew—kelce, topper, and a couple of other people you didn’t know. rafe’s eyes met yours the moment you stepped into his line of sight, and for a split second, the room seemed to pause. it was as if everything else faded, and you were the only two people in the house.

you didn’t hesitate. without even a thought, you walked up to him, your steps sure, your anger driving every movement. without warning, you grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward. the world seemed to blur around you as you smacked him across the face, the sharp crack of skin on skin echoing in the room. the crowd around you went silent for a split second, but it didn’t matter.

“you stupid, cheating son of a bitch,” you snarled, voice dripping with rage. “hurt that bad losing to a pogue? you had to cheat?”

rafe didn’t flinch. his expression remained cold, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your skin crawl. his jaw tightened, his lips curling into something cruel. and then, just like that, his hands shot up and wrapped around your neck.

you gasped, struggling against the sudden pressure as his fingers dug into your skin. “don’t you ever call me that again,” he whispered, his voice cold, deadly. you tried to pry his hands away, your vision starting to swim as you fought for air.

“my old man might’ve lost to your dad,” rafe continued, his grip tightening even more. “but i sure as hell won’t lose to a dirty fuckin’ pogue like you.”

and it hit you. the words, the venom in his tone—it wasn’t just about the race. it was about something much deeper. his father had lost to your dad, bullet—the man who had earned his reputation in a way that rafe’s father could never match. the history between the two didnt run deep, but the animosity was thicker than blood.

you struggled harder, but the more you fought, the tighter his grip became, the pressure on your throat making it harder to breathe. your thoughts began to blur, your fingers clawing at his wrists, desperate for freedom.

but then, out of nowhere, you felt rafe being yanked away. jj, who had appeared from the crowd, threw his weight into the pull, dragging rafe off you with force. he stumbled back, hands still twitching as he tried to regain control, but jj wasn’t letting go.

“just you wait, pogue,” rafe called out, his voice hoarse from the force of his own words. “see what happens when you act a fool.”

jj didn’t respond. he didn’t need to. he shoved rafe back, and you staggered away from the chaos, breathing deeply, trying to recover from the shock of it all. as you made your way out of the fray, you glanced back to see rafe sitting back down at the table, his gaze empty. his body trembled slightly, his fingers still shaking. it wasn’t just about the race. it wasn’t even about you. his father didnt think he was good enough, so he wanted to be better.

the next morning, the smell of oil, metal, and grease filled the air as you worked in your shop. sunlight streamed through the garage’s open doors, illuminating the chaos within. it was shaping up to be a long day. your friends had brought their cars in, and calling them “in bad shape” was an understatement. each vehicle had its own set of unique, stubborn problems, from mechanical issues to cosmetic disasters. and on top of all that, jj’s dirt bike sat propped on its stand in the corner, waiting for a fresh coat of paint and some mechanical tlc.

you were perched over jj’s dirt bike, one leg swung lazily over the seat as you carefully sprayed on a bold blue coat of paint. the color shimmered slightly under the sunlight, and you allowed yourself a small moment of satisfaction. jj had insisted on something flashy, claiming he wanted it to “blind anyone he left in the dust.”

nearby, sarah’s car sat on a lift, its underside exposed. it was a sleek white coupe, but the suspension was shot to hell, the front bumper barely hanging on, and there was a mystery rattle that drove her crazy.

“you could do a lot more with it if you had a v8,” came a voice, smooth and cutting through the sound of your wrench.

your heart jumped. tense, you turned slowly, eyes narrowing as they locked onto rafe cameron standing at the edge of your garage. he was dressed in a crisp button-up, shorts, and boat shoes, a golf club casually slung over his shoulder like it belonged there.

“typical boys,” you quipped, recovering quickly, a smirk forming on your lips as you straightened. “always worried about whose engines bigger.”

rafe’s mouth twitched into a wry smile, though his eyes still held that unnerving sharpness. “what’re you doing here?” you added, your tone turning sharp. “came to trash my stash?”

he scoffed, taking a slow step forward, the metal head of the golf club clicking lightly against the cement floor as he walked. “got a garage more expensive than these rides,” he replied coolly, eyes scanning the cars around you. you rolled your eyes and turned back to sarah’s car, wiping your hands on a rag.

“the rumors are true,” rafe continued, a hint of amusement in his tone. “cut’s got its first shop run by a woman.”

you scoffed, glancing over your shoulder at him. “and if you open one, it’ll get its second.”

his smile faltered for a split second, irritation flashing across his face, but it didn’t stick. instead, he stood there, watching you with an expression that was equal parts frustration and intrigue.

“listen, pogue,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “you can call me out for calling the cops, but i know about your nos tanks. doesn’t seem fair to me.”

you set your wrench down with a loud clang, turning to face him fully. “any real racer knows you can use as many tanks as you want,” you said, stepping closer to him, your tone unwavering. “if you can handle it. can you handle it, rafe?”

for a moment, his annoyance shifted into something else, something almost predatory. his gaze flicked over you, and he tilted his head slightly, as though trying to figure you out. how could a pogue talk to him like this—fearlessly, no less—after what had happened last night?

“i can handle a lot more than you think,” he responded, a sly grin creeping onto his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat stack of bills. “how about you set it up for me? i’ll make it worth your while.” with a sharp motion, you pushed his hand down, forcing him to lower the money.

“bring your ride in and put your money away,” you said, your tone low but steady. “you’ll pay me back with a race. a fair one.”

rafe’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his smirk growing wider. “sounds fair to me,” he countered, his voice dripping with challenge. “if you can handle it. can you handle it, (y/n)?”

you tilted your head slightly, mirroring his grin as you leaned closer. “i can handle a lot more than you think.”

the roar of the skyline’s engine filled your shop as rafe pulled back in, the bright blue paint glinting under the fluorescent lights. the car was immaculate, sleek and modern, with a body that screamed speed and power. you couldn’t help but appreciate it. rafe stepped out, leaning casually against the car, his gaze drifting to the corners of your shop.

“nice place you got here,” he said, his tone almost dismissive, but his eyes were scanning every detail.

“nice car,” you shot back, wiping your hands on a rag as you approached. r34, right? not bad, even for you.”

rafe’s smirk deepened, pleased you knew your stuff. “figured i’d bring her to the best,” he said, his voice dripping with irony.

you didn’t rise to the bait, gesturing for him to follow you. you led him to the closeted section of your shop, a hidden alcove where you kept your stash of tanks. the area was organized chaos—rows of shiny tanks stacked neatly, tools hanging on the walls, and a sturdy metal workbench in the center.

“how’s this shit work?” rafe asked, leaning against the table as he watched you pull a tank from the shelf.

you set it on the bench, grabbed a wrench, and began working. “it’s simple, really,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “nitrous oxide gets injected into the engine. gets the oxygen levels up during combustion. more fuel burns, so that means more power. it’s a burst, though—not something you use all the time.”

rafe nodded, his expression unreadable as he watched you work. you moved with precision, attaching the nos lines to the skyline’s engine, ensuring every bolt and connection was secure.

“got a closet full of this shit,” rafe remarked, glancing around.

you shrugged, not looking up from your work. “guess i like it fast.”

he raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “how do i know you’re not screwing me over?”

you straightened, wiping your hands on your shorts with a smirk. “take her for a spin,” you said simply.

he scoffed, crossing his arms as his gaze flicked between you and the car. “yeah, right. and if it blows me up?”

you rolled your eyes, already fed up. without a word, you opened the passenger door and climbed in, settling into the seat next to him. rafe hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were planning something, but eventually slid behind the wheel. you were immediately impressed by the interior—sleek, modern, and meticulously maintained.

he pulled out of the shop and onto the main road, driving casually until you reached a long, empty street.

“how’s it work?” he asked, his voice breaking the silence.

you pointed at a button near the gearshift. “press it,” you said, your tone almost mocking. “unless you’re scared.”

rafe’s gaze snapped to yours, his jaw tightening at the challenge in your voice. he wasn’t going to back down. slowly, deliberately, he pressed the button.

the effect was immediate. the skyline surged forward with a ferocity that pressed you both back into your seats. the engine roared, the world outside becoming a blur as the car rocketed down the street. rafe’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes flickering between you and the road.

“keep your eyes on the road, playboy,” you said, your voice steady despite the speed.

rafe smirked, his knuckles tightening on the wheel. “why? think we’re gonna crash?”

you didn’t blink, your gaze locked on him. “don’t know,” you said calmly. “haven’t decided yet.”

taking that as a challenge, rafe shifted his focus back to you, his blue eyes burning with determination. he kept the car hurtling forward, the engine screaming, his gaze never leaving yours. the tension in the air was evident, every second stretching into eternity as you stared each other down. the red light came into view, and rafe hit the brakes hard. the car skidded to a stop, tires screeching, the force jolting you both forward slightly. but even then, his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“i could’ve killed you,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

you held his gaze, unwavering. “you wouldn’t.”

the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as you parked the last of your friends’ cars at their usual spot. each vehicle gleamed, repaired and polished. you stepped out, expecting gratitude and maybe a few jokes, but instead, you were met with silence. they were all there, standing stiffly in front of their shop, their expressions grim. you could feel the tension radiating off them as you walked closer, the quiet pressing against your chest.

“guys?” you called out, slipping from the driver’s seat and approaching cautiously. “what’s wrong?”

no one answered. the explanation came into view soon enough.

their shop was a disaster. broken glass littered the ground, the walls were defaced with cruel graffiti, and the door hung off its hinges. the words scrawled across the front made your stomach churn: “pogue trash,” “deadbeats,” “just like your daddy.” your breath caught in your throat as you took in the scene, each insult like a punch to the gut.

“what the fuck happened?” you asked, your voice tight with anger and disbelief.

jj ripped his cap off and hurled it to the ground, his face flushed with fury. “those fuckin’ kooks, man,” he spat at no one in particular. “those fuckin’ kooks.”

you stepped closer, your boots crunching against the broken glass as you stared at the hateful words. the damage was extensive—tools missing, shelves overturned, and a pile of broken parts in the corner.

“they didn’t even try to hide it,” you muttered, your voice shaking.

pope sighed heavily beside you. “don’t take it personal,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t quite believe his own words. “at least they didn’t touch the cars.”

kie nodded, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “yeah, thanks for fixing them for us,” she said softly, though her gratitude was muted by the weight of what had happened.

but their words barely registered as you stepped closer to the shop, your hands curling into fists. “who was it?” you asked, though you feared you already knew the answer.

jj scoffed bitterly. “who do you think?” he shot back, his voice dripping with venom. “rafe and his buddies.”

your stomach sank. you’d gone out of your way to help him, to level the playing field, and this was how he repaid you? it wasn’t even about the shop—it was about principle. he had crossed a line.

without another word, you grabbed a broom and started cleaning. the others joined in silently, the air thick with anger and frustration as you worked together to sweep up the glass, scrub off the graffiti, and salvage what you could. every stroke of the brush, every shove of the mop, only fueled your resolve.

by the time you finished, night had fallen, and exhaustion hung heavy in the air. you handed the broom to jj, your jaw set as you turned and made your way back to your car.

“where’re you going?” sarah called after you, her voice laced with concern.

you didn’t answer, you didn’t need to. the sound of the car door slamming shut was your only response as you started the engine and drove off into the night, your mind racing with one thought: rafe cameron was going to answer for this.

the engine hummed beneath you as you sped toward figure eight, the north side of the island, where the kooks played their games and looked down on people like you. your fingers drummed against the steering wheel, a steady rhythm that betrayed the pounding of your heart. the streets were quiet, eerily so, but you scanned every shadowed alley and empty corner, searching for him. or, more specifically, for his stupid skyline.

your knuckles whitened against the steering wheel, tension coiled in your chest. rafe cameron. of course, it had to be him. the golden boy with a mean streak a mile wide, hiding behind wealth and privilege while wreaking havoc for fun.

as you turned onto another desolate road, your eyes caught the glow of a parking lot up ahead. slowing down, you squinted, scanning the lot as you passed by—and there it was. a skyline, much like his, sat tucked in the farthest corner, its polished body gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

“there you are,” you muttered, a sharp edge in your voice as you pulled into the lot.

you drove straight toward the car, parking directly across from it, headlights glaring like a spotlight. the engine idled as you stepped out, leaving the car on as a statement. across the lot, the driver’s side door of the skyline opened, and out stepped rafe. he didn’t look pleased.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, his voice dripping with disdain.

you didn’t answer. Instead, you marched toward him, shoving him hard enough to send him stumbling back a step. “have a busy night, kook?” you spat. “steal some parts? trash some shops?”

rafe scoffed, recovering his footing as he stepped closer. his smirk was infuriating, his air of nonchalance calculated. “you’re out of your mind,” he muttered, but when your hand shot up to slap him, he caught it mid-air, his fingers wrapping around your wrist in a grip that made you wince.

“what’re you gonna do? arrest me?” he taunted, his voice low and biting. his grip tightened, making you clench your teeth. “you said you liked it fast, but you’re still not up to speed—this is the way things are here, pogue.”

he let go of your wrist, and you shoved him again, this time harder. his reaction was swift, his hands grabbing the front of your top and yanking you forward, slamming you against the hood of his car.

“let go of me, you son of a bitch,” you growled, struggling against him. but then your gaze locked onto his, and your tone turned razor-sharp. “what’re you gonna do next, rafe? choke me again? hit me? gonna hit me, rafe?”

his jaw clenched, his expression darkening as he stared down at you. he knew you were provoking him, pushing him toward the edge—but the hit never came.

instead, it came in the form of cold metal pressed against your temple, sleek and unyielding. your breath hitched as you realized what it was. a pistol, pulled from his waistband, now trembling slightly in his hand.

“come on, rafe,” you murmured, your voice soft but deadly. “do it, pull the trigger. let me see you do it.”

his hand shook, his grip faltering as his body trembled with barely-contained rage. the air between you was electric, charged with tension and unspoken words. finally, with a roar that made you flinch, he pulled back, stepping away as he spun around and shouted into the night, his voice raw and guttural.

“don’t push me,” he hissed, turning back toward you, his expression twisted with anger and something else—something almost like regret. “you know i’ll hurt you.”

you stayed frozen, stunned as he climbed back into his car and slammed the door. the tension still buzzed in the air as you staggered back to your own car, fury boiling in your veins. you didn’t look at him as you started your engine, but you knew he was watching.

as you pulled your car into reverse, you didn’t stop. you turned, aiming your headlights straight at him, and accelerated, tires screeching as you sped toward him. rafe’s eyes widened, but only for a second before his expression hardened, glazed with anger. you could see him mutter something to himself, though you couldn’t hear it over the roar of the engines.

“come on,” he whispered, his voice almost a growl. “see if you have the fucking balls.”

neither of you slowed. the distance between you closed rapidly, your gazes locked, unflinching, as your cars raced toward each other like bullets. it was a game of chicken, and you weren’t about to lose.

at the last second, rafe was the one to swerve, tires screeching as his skyline drifted to the side, narrowly avoiding impact. your own car skidded in the opposite direction, drifting towards the opposite sode, and for a moment, the lot was silent again, save for the low rumble of idling engines.

“i told you you wouldn’t,” you whispered under your breath, gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles ached.

the gym was barely lit, the overhead lights casting long shadows across the space as rafe paced like a caged animal. the heavy bag swung idly, a testament to the beating he had given it earlier, but his fists weren’t satisfied. his knuckles were raw, bloodied, and split, but the rage in his chest burned hotter, untamed.

kelce leaned against the wall, trying to appear nonchalant, but the tension in his posture gave him away. topper sat on one of the benches, a water bottle in hand, his expression hovering between amusement and concern.

“she got you good, man,” kelce said, trying to lighten the mood. “never seen a girl get you this mad.”

rafe didn’t respond. his chest heaved as he muttered to himself, words too quiet for anyone else to catch. his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his entire body taut with frustration.

“hard to find a girl who knows how to drive,” topper chimed in, a smug grin on his face as he leaned back. “but a hot one? needle in a haystack.”

it was the wrong thing to say. rafe’s roar echoed through the gym, a guttural sound that tore through his throat, making both kelce and topper jump. before they could react, rafe’s fist slammed into the wall with a sickening crack, leaving a jagged dent in the drywall. his knuckles followed suit, blood smearing across the pale surface as he pulled back.

“dude, you need to calm down,” kelce said, stepping forward cautiously, his hands half-raised in a placating gesture. he exchanged a nervous glance with topper, who was now sitting upright, the humor gone from his expression.

but rafe wasn’t hearing any of it. his breathing was erratic, his gaze wild as he turned away, pacing again. he ran a trembling hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if the pain might distract him from whatever was boiling inside. what was it with her? how could someone so infuriating, so goddamn pogue, crawl under his skin like this? she was everything he despised—defiant, reckless, unpredictable—and yet she was all he could think about. the way she stared him down, the way she challenged him, dared him even, as if she knew just how far to push before he broke.

was it the hatred that fueled him? the way she made his blood rush, his heart race? lr was it something else, something he couldn’t put into words but that kept him coming back, like a moth to a flame?

“i hate her,” he finally hissed, his voice low but venomous. his chest rose and fell rapidly as he turned to face his friends, his knuckles still dripping red. “i fuckin’ hate her.”

the bonfire blazed brightly against the inky night sky, crackling and sending sparks into the air as the party raged around it. the salty tang of the ocean mixed with the scent of burning wood and the faint whiff of spilled beer. laughter, shouting, and the deep bass of a playlist made the beach feel alive, every corner buzzing with energy. people crowded around coolers, passing drinks, leaning against cars, or dancing to the music. shadows flitted across the sand as groups clustered closer to the fire, the light flickering across their faces.

you pulled into the makeshift parking area, your headlights briefly illuminating the crowd before you cut the engine. the hum of the party immediately filled the car, but you stayed seated, your hands still on the steering wheel. the adrenaline from earlier hadn’t worn off, but it had simmered into something heavier, something confusing.

how could someone be so insufferable? how could he manage to boil your blood and make your pulse race all at once? you hated his entitlement, his smirk, his stupid blue eyes that always seemed to hold a challenge. he wasn’t worth the energy, and yet here you were, your grip tightening on the steering wheel as if trying to ground yourself.

“you okay?” jj’s voice broke through your thoughts.

you turned your head slightly to look at him, his blue eyes filled with concern. he noticed the slight tremble in your hands but didn’t push.

“yeah,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile. “yeah, it’s a party. i’m great.”

he didn’t believe you, not entirely, but he nodded anyway. jj knew when to let things go.

stepping out of the car, you were immediately hit with the cacophony of the party. the bonfire cast an orange glow that danced across the sand, illuminating faces both familiar and unfamiliar. the crowd was thick, packed with kooks and pogues alike, though the latter were clearly outnumbered. as you walked toward the fire, someone approached you, his voice loud and filled with enthusiasm.

“camaro!” he shouted, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “too cold for cameron.”

you blinked at him, startled, unsure how to respond. the race had clearly made an impression, and word had spread faster than you could’ve imagined. it was an uncomfortable kind of notoriety, but jj took it in stride.

“the people love you,” he said with a smirk, grabbing two beers from a nearby cooler and handing one to you. “give the people what they want.”

you rolled your eyes, but the truth was clear. everyone was impressed—almost everyone.

rafe was seated by the fire, his legs stretched out lazily, one arm draped over the shoulders of a girl who was chattering away. her friend sat nearby, giggling at whatever she was saying, but rafe didn’t seem to be paying attention. he didn’t even know her name, not that it mattered. just that he was lonely, and she tasted like tequila. his gaze was locked on you. the tension from earlier wasn’t visible in his expression, but there was something in his eyes. his beer bottle hovered near his lips as he stared, his brow furrowing slightly as he took in the sight of you.

you weren’t wearing your usual gear—no grease-stained shorts, no leather boots. Instead, you’d chosen a white dress, short and flowy, paired with white heels. it was simple, but it transformed you, softening your edges in a way rafe hadn’t expected. he should’ve looked away, should’ve focused on the girl clinging to his arm or the drink in his hand. but he couldn’t.

you noticed his stare and felt the weight of it, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. quickly, you lifted the beer jj had given you and took a long swig.

“thirsty, aren’t you?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

you exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “sober. way too sober.”

the night dragged on, the bonfire crackling loudly as laughter and chatter mixed with the low thrum of music. jj handed you another beer before motioning toward the campfire. “come on, let’s sit,” he said, his tone light, though his eyes lingered on you, searching for any signs of lingering tension.

you sighed but followed, settling into the sand next to him. the heat from the fire washed over you, much unlike the cool breeze that carried the smell of saltwater. you leaned back slightly, the exhaustion of the day weighing heavily on your shoulders. every muscle ached, and all you wanted was the sweet escape of sleep. but sleep wasn’t an option, not here, not now.

you sipped your beer slowly, savoring each drop as it slid down your throat. across the flames, rafe sat, his arm lazily draped over the girl he had come with. he wasn’t looking at her, not really, but when she leaned in to kiss him, his lips met hers in a display that felt more performative than passionate. your gaze dropped instantly, your stomach churning. you prayed no one had noticed your reaction, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed you.

“camaro,” topper’s voice cut through the din, dragging your attention back to the group.

you turned your head slightly, your body tense as you met his gaze.

“word on the street says you’re racing our man again,” he said, his tone laced with amusement.

jj glanced at you, his confusion evident. “again?” he asked, but you only shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you popped the cap off another beer.

“street doesn’t lie,” you said simply, taking a swig.

kelce and topper exchanged impressed looks, nodding as if to say they approved. but kelce’s smirk widened as you continued, “even when its racers are dirty cheats.”

the air shifted. rafe’s head snapped toward you, his eyebrows raised in challenge. the firelight reflected in his narrowed eyes, adding to the intensity of his glare.

“called street smarts for a reason, isn’t it?” he said, his smirk sharp.

you rolled your eyes, leaning back against the driftwood bench. “let’s see how smart you are without the cops,” you said, your voice steady, though your pulse hammered in your chest.

rafe opened his mouth, clearly ready to retort, but something stopped him. he clenched his jaw, leaning back in his seat with a forced calmness. his breath came in shallow, frustrated huffs as the firelight danced across his features. the tension in the group was uncomfortable, but the silence didn’t last long. you drained your beer, allowing the alcohol to dull the edge of your exhaustion and frustration. the conversations around you resumed, and for the first time all night, you felt yourself beginning to relax.

rafe, however, wasn’t relaxing. his eyes flicked to you every chance they got, watching as your posture softened, as your lips curled into a small smile at something jj said. he watched as jj leaned in, whispering something into your ear, his hand brushing your shoulder. whatever he said made you laugh, a soft, genuine sound that tugged at something deep within rafe. you made him angry. everything you did made him angry.

jj tipped his beer bottle toward you. “we staying here tonight?” he asked, his tone casual.

“yeah,” you replied, pushing yourself to your feet. “let’s just hope they won’t trash this, too.”

your words carried a pointed weight, and you capped them off with a glance in rafe’s direction, your gaze cool and challenging. it was subtle, but he caught it. he always caught it. you disappeared into the tent jj had set up, leaving the campfire and its occupants behind. rafe’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his beer. everything about you, everything you did, made him mad. and he still couldn’t look away.

the tent was suffocating. you’d been lying there for hours, trying desperately to sleep, but it was impossible. exhaustion clung to your body like a second skin, but no matter how much you tossed, turned, or closed your eyes, rest wouldn’t come. your mind was a storm, thoughts swirling violently around one person.

you hated him—every inch of him. the way he carried himself with arrogant confidence, the way his words dripped with disdain, the way he always seemed to have the upper hand. conceited, rude, filthy rich, and far too smug about it. but worst of all? his mouth. it wasn’t just the venom he spat or the smirks that played on his lips; it was the fact, when it came down to putting his money where his mouth was, his mouth went everywhere. you hated it, hated him.

you sighed heavily, leaning back against the soft wall of the tent. your head rested against your pillow, eyes staring blankly at the fabric above you. the muted sounds of the bonfire party carried through the night, distant but persistent. you closed your eyes, exhaling sharply through your nose, but peace still eluded you.

your body stiffened at the sound, the slow, deliberate movement of the tent’s zipper trailing sending a chill down your spine. the tent flaps parted, and he stepped inside. you didn’t react.

“come to kill me?” you asked, your voice flat, devoid of any interest.

he didn’t answer. instead, he moved toward you, his steps slow, purposeful. there was something unnerving about his silence, and it made your stomach twist. your head snapped toward him, your breath catching in your throat.

“rafe,” you said, panic creeping into your voice as you scrambled to your feet. “what are you doing?”

he didn’t respond. you glanced around the small space, frantically searching for something, anything, to defend yourself with, but there was nothing. he noticed.

“defenseless,” he murmured, his voice low, almost mocking.

your heart raced, pounding so loudly in your ears that you thought he could hear it. he stopped in front of you, his broad frame blocking the exit as he loomed over you.

“what do you think is gonna happen next?” he asked, his tone dark and taunting.

you swallowed hard, your palms clammy. “i know this story,” you said, forcing your voice to remain steady. “this is the part where we hurt each other, right? where we give in and see who’ll really win.”

amusement flickered across his face, but it was fleeting, his expression hardening as his gaze pinned you in place.

“that’s an interesting way to end things,” he murmured. “but i like my ending better.”

before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours. the kiss was searing, all teeth and desperation, a clash of emotions too raw to name. hatred morphed into something else entirely as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. your body reacted on instinct, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back, just as hard, just as rough.

even as your lips moved against his, the fight never stopped. tongues battled for dominance, breaths mingling in the heated space between you. it wasn’t gentle, wasn’t tender—it was a war, and neither of you was willing to surrender, but this time? this time, you would lose.

without breaking the kiss, rafe sank to the ground, pulling you into his lap. his hands roamed, gripping your hips, sliding up your back, under your dress, as though he couldn’t get enough of you. he lay back, bringing you down with him, his body pressing into yours as his lips trailed away from your mouth. his kisses moved to your jaw, then down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

“i hate you,” you whispered, the words escaping through a breathless moan.

he groaned against your neck, his breath hot and ragged, “i hate you, too.”

there was something about playing with fire that everybody loved, ranging from the kids that would play with their mothers’ stoves despite warned not to, and the adults who lit their cigarettes despite knowing that it could kill them. despite being so different, every one of those people had one thing in common—they knew a thing or two about getting burned. the closer he was to you, the more you thought about it—playing with fire. you knew it’d hurt you at some point, but pain was fleeting, temporary. the warmth was what counted.

“show me,” you gasped as your fingernails clawed at the back of his neck. “show me how much you hate me.”

he took it as a challenge, he took everything you said as a challenge. just like that, his lips were on yours, his nose grazing your cheek. he tasted like beer—bitter, with a hint of something that you knew would keep you coming back for more. his lips were chapped from the alcohol, but still found a way to melt against yours. his fingers were long, rough as they crept up the back of your neck, sending goosebumps down your body before tangling themselves into your hair, pulling softly.

“look at me,” he whispered, and you’d never heard him so quiet. he pulled your hair downward, forcing your eyes to meet his.

your eyes were hazy, clouded with the same sensation that coursed through his veins. he couldnt have missed it, and he didn’t, a low hum vibrating through his chest as he took in the way you looked at him, unsure if he’d ever get to see it again. he kissed you again, his hips grinding down against yours, eliciting the softest whimper from you as his hard length pressed into the soft flesh of your thigh, separated by the fabric of his shorts.

“feel that?” he whispered, continuously rolling his hips against your thigh, pressing into you, making sure you could feel it—all of it. “that’s how mad you make me.”

you let out a sound, something between a laugh and a moan, biting your lip at the feeling of him like that—so hard, so deluded with lust. “who knew i had such an effect on you?”

rafe’s eyes darkened at your words, a wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his grip on your hair tightened slightly, and his nose brushed against yours as his lips hovered just inches away.

“you’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

you bit your lip, your body betraying you as you arched against him. his lips were on yours again, and this time it was hungrier, rougher, filled with all the pent-up frustration and hatred that had festered between you for so long. he kissed you like he was trying to devour you, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before his tongue slipped inside, claiming your mouth as his.

his hands roamed your body, one sliding down to grip your waist while the other stayed tangled in your hair. he pulled you impossibly closer, his hips grinding harder against yours. the friction was intoxicating, drawing a soft, breathless moan from your lips that only spurred him on.

“say it again,” he demanded, his lips moving against your neck now, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“say what?” you breathed, your head tilting back as his tongue traced the column of your throat.

“tell me how much you hate me,” he growled, his fingers digging into your waist as he pressed his hips firmly against you.

you let out a shaky laugh, your hands clutching at his shoulders. “i hate you,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction, trembling with desire.

he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. “liar,” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk before capturing yours again.

you fought for dominance, your nails scraping down his back through the thin fabric of his shirt. he hissed at the sensation, his hips bucking against you in response.

“careful,” he warned, his voice husky as he nipped at your jaw. “you’re playing with fire.”

“maybe i like the burn,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.

he chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin as his lips trailed down your collarbone. “you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, his tone both teasing and threatening.

“then show me,” you challenged, your hands gripping the hem of his shirt and tugging it upward.

he pulled it off in one swift motion, tossing it aside before leaning back over you, his bare chest pressing against yours. his hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of your body as his mouth claimed yours once again.

“you make me crazy,” he muttered against your lips, his voice filled with raw, unfiltered need. “i can’t think straight when i’m around you.”

“good,” you whispered, your fingers threading through his hair and tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from his throat. “i don’t want you thinking straight.”

you ran your fingers down his chest, unable to stop yourself from admiring just how strong he was, how broad he was. he was so lean, tan, with broad shoulders and big arms that he kept hidden. you bit your lip, keeping yourself from being too brazen, too nice—saying something you knew youd come to regret when the time came.

his touch was gentle, feather-like as his fingers slid your dress down, his eyes never leaving your frame as he did so. he tugged it down your chest, down your hips, until it was completely off. he groaned at the sight—the sight going straight to his shorts. you were beautiful, though he’d never say it out loud. with your white bra, your white panties—you looked like an angel.

“fuck,” was all that he managed to utter, staring down at you the way a predator would eye its prey.

“yeah,” you murmured, propping yourself against your elbows. he watched the way your plush thighs rubbed against one another, legs shuffling softly as you brought a foot up to his chest, sliding it down his chest until it was right where he wanted it. he took your foot in his hand, pressing it into the center of his clothed cock, making sure you could feel just how bad he had it for you.

his eyes stayed on you as you reached back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. your tits fell out, sliding out of the comfort of their fabric as rafe tensed up. he leaned forward, bringing an arm around your back as his lips wrapped around one of your hardening buds. cradling his head against your tits, you threw your head back and mewled at his ministrations. he lavished equal attention on each breast, his darkening eyes darting up to take in your face every so often.

you bit back a whimper as your hands travelled up his neck, scratching where you could, leaving red lines he knew would be hard to explain later on. his lips and tongue worked together, travelling down your stomach, past your navel, his hot breath littering goosebumps across your flesh. he grunted, he could practically smell your desire, just inches away from him.

his fingers hooked themselves under the sides of your panties as he looked up at you. you had to bite your tongue, because he's never looked better. his eyes were glossy, drool dripping from his bottom lip as he stared at you from between your legs. and then, he pulled. he pulled until your panties were off, discarded somewhere, anywhere.

rafe only took a second to get a look at you, but it felt like eternity. he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as his fingers trailed down your sopping cunt, over the surface, but never where you needed him to. “rafe,” you sighed with an impatient frown.

“i know, baby,” he murmured, “i know.”

you didn’t get the chance to respond as one of his long, slender fingers slithered into you, curling just right where you needed it, pumping in and out at a slow pace. the cool metal of the ring on his finger grazed your clit each time. you gasped, your hand gripping his shoulder, nails pressing crescent moons into his taught skin. he repeated the motion, suppressing a groan before adding a second finger, much to your delight. his knuckles woulded against you as his fingers bottomed out, the digits sliding out completely, before diving all the way in again. his thumb hovered over your clit, but never made the small reach to press it the way you wanted.

you cried softly, hips moving against his fingers in the same up and down motion as earlier, “rafe, come on.”

“not yet,” he whispered, “not until you surrender, until you beg.”

you shook your head no, head tilting back with your eyes closed.

“bet you beg so pretty,” he murmured as his thumb flicked ever so lightly over your clit, “tell me what you want.”

you had to weigh your options carefully, precisely. you could save what little dignity you had left, and keep you mouth shut, even if it meant losing him—losing the nirvana that was waiting for you. it seemed impossible, especially compared to what you could have, what he could give you. he was so good, so good—and he was gonna show you just how good he was.

“please,” you barely managed to utter. “please, rafe, need you to fuck me.”

it was all he wanted to hear. “that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he murmured, a condescending edge to his tone as he pulled his fingers, coated in your juices, out completely. “take ’em off for me, baby, come on.”

you nodded as you allowed your fingers to slip below the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down as anticipation coursed through your body. his cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach. he was so much bigger than you could’ve guessed, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his length, his girth. you wrapped a curious, hesitant hand around his dick, before pumping as best as you could. rafe groaned, head tilted back as he bucked up into your hand. he couldn’t get enough of the sight of you, small and defenseless, with a hand around his dick, tracing his pulsing veins with your fingers.

“gonna let me ruin you?” he whispered, his cock aching against your soft fingers. “if you can handle it. can you handle it, baby?”

you nodded, hating how powerless you had really become, as if he had you under some sort of spell. you let go of his cock before lying back down. you watched the way rafe grabbed a hold of his cock, spreading your thighs as he positioned himself with a grunt. you could feel the head of his cock sliding between your folds, lightly teasing against your clit as a moan passed your lips.

“let me hear it again,” he murmured, eliciting another moan from you as his cock brushed against your clit a second time.

“please,” you needed to give in—just this once, “please, fuck me, rafe.”

with that, rafe thrusts his cock forward, and a victorious smile warping his features as he pushed past your wet folds. your walls stretched to their limit, unable to stop the grimace of pain the more of him you took in. you let out a moan as your eyes rolled back, your tight cunt adjusting to his sheer size.

“that’s it, baby. takin’ it so good,” rafe praised through a groan, holding onto your hips and pushing until your clit clashed with base of his cock.

you felt so filled, so dominated, so alive. your nails dug into the sheets, your body writhing beneath him as he began to pump in and out of you. each stroke was brutal, his length stretching your weeping pussy and claiming you in a way that no one else had ever done. your eyes remained closed, focusing on the pleasure-pain as your body fought against the intrusion before succumbing to the delicious feeling of his rhythmic pounding.

the tent grew hazy with the scent of sex and sweat, your breaths coming out in pants and whimpers as he picked up speed. his teeth grazed the side of your neck, making you shiver with every thrust. his tongue flicked against the sensitive skin, tasting your sweetness as he claimed you, making you his. you couldn't help but arch your back, pushing your breasts up, begging for his mouth.

he took the hint, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your neck, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make you gasp. he sucked, hard, leaving a bruise that would surely be visible in the morning. his hand moved to play with your clit, the pad of his thumb pressing down and swirling around in a way that made your toes curl and your back arch even more.

the pleasure was building, a wave threatening to crash over you at any time. rafe’s eyes were on yours, watching your pupils dilate and your mouth form silent pleas for more. he smirked, his teeth still digging into your neck, feeling your pulse throb under his teeth. he knew you were close, knew he had you right where he wanted you.

with one final, powerful thrust, he swiped his thumb over your clit one more time, and you shattered around him. your orgasm washed over you in waves, making your body spasm and your legs tighten around his waist. you moaned his name, your nails digging into his back as your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him for all he was worth.

rafe’s eyes rolled back in his head, his own release barreling towards him like a freight train. he pulled his mouth away from your neck with a wet pop, his teeth marks clear on your skin. “gonna cum, baby,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort.

you nodded, your own orgasm still coursing through you as he drove into you one last time, burying his cock to the hilt. he groaned as he came, filling you up with hot, thick ropes of cum, from the inside to your clit.

when it was over, he collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as you both panted for air. his cock still twitched inside you, releasing the last of his load, making you feel so completely owned. it was a feeling you never knew existed, but one you were now craving with every fiber of your being. he kissed you then, hard and possessive, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his cock had claimed your cunt. you could taste the saltiness of your sweat on his lips, feel the stickiness between your legs. it was raw, it was carnal

the first thing you noticed was the warmth. it enveloped you like a heavy blanket, your body pressed against something solid and unyielding. your eyes fluttered open, the dim light of dawn filtering through the thin fabric of the tent, and your heart stopped. rafe was sprawled on top of you, his arm draped possessively around your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

the events of the night before came rushing back in flashes: the kisses, the heated whispers, the way his hands felt on your skin, the way he made you forget every ounce of hatred you harbored for him, if only for a moment.

you felt the cool morning air against your bare skin, the absence of fabric a cruel reminder of just how far things had gone. panic set in as you slowly, carefully shifted beneath him, trying not to disturb his steady breathing. you reached for your dress, crumpled on the floor of the tent, and slipped it on as quietly as you could manage. your hands trembled, the fabric catching on your damp skin as you smoothed it over your body.

you paused, your eyes flickering back to him. rafe was still fast asleep, his features softened in a way you’d never seen before. he looked peaceful, almost innocent, but it only made the bile rise in your throat. what the hell had you done?

your thoughts spiraled as you crept out of the tent, each step feeling like a betrayal of yourself. what would your dad say? the man who taught you to stand your ground, to never let anyone—especially someone like rafe—get the better of you? and your friends? jj? god, jj.

you barely made it a few steps before jj’s voice startled you. “what happened?”

he was standing near the campfire, his hair disheveled, a beer bottle still clutched in his hand. his blue eyes bore into you, concern etched across his face.

“nothing,” you muttered, your voice hollow as you brushed past him.

“don’t give me that,” he said, following you as you made a beeline for your car. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

you ignored him, fumbling with your keys as you slid into the driver’s seat. he climbed into the passenger side, his confusion mounting as you started the engine.

“you gonna tell me what’s going on?” he pressed, his tone sharper now.

you gripped the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white as you navigated the dirt road away from the campsite. the weight of what you’d done settled heavily on your chest, making it hard to breathe. then it hit you. you were racing rafe tonight.

your stomach dropped as the realization clawed its way through you. he’d done this on purpose. seduced you, distracted you, gotten into your head—all to throw you off your game. the anger came next, hot and unrelenting, burning away the shame and replacing it with a seething fury. how could you have been so stupid? so careless? you’d let him win, not just last night, but the entire war you’d been waging against him.

“jesus christ,” you whispered under your breath, your grip on the wheel tightening as jj looked at you, more confused than ever.

“what?” he asked, leaning forward to study your face. “what’s going on?”

you didn’t answer, your thoughts a chaotic mess as you sped down the road. tonight wasn’t just about the race anymore. it was about getting your revenge.

the rest of the day felt like a blur of heavy, suffocating silence. you spent most of it sitting in your car, parked in an isolated corner of nowhere, just staring into oblivion. the world outside seemed distant, a place that didn’t matter, didn’t exist for you. thoughts swirled in your mind like a storm you couldn’t escape, each one more troubling than the last. what had you done? what was going to happen now?

you couldn’t bring yourself to cry. not yet. not until you could at least get through tonight, at least finish what you had started. you still had a fighting chance against rafe, didn’t you? the race was everything now. it was the one thing left that you could control, the one thing that would keep him from completely getting under your skin.

jj had asked you what was wrong earlier when you barely spoke to anyone. sarah had asked him too, her voice laced with concern, but he didn’t have any answers. nobody did. you barely had any answers yourself.

the hours passed in a haze, and before you knew it, it was time for the race. the drive to the meeting was dreadfully silent. the engine roared beneath you, but it did nothing to drown out the buzzing in your head. every thought was a needle, and each one pricked at you until you were wound too tight to even think straight. every so often, you'd mutter to yourself, trying to reassure yourself that you were still in control, that you could still handle this. but it wasn’t working. frustration built in you like a pressure cooker, and every so often, your fist collided with the steering wheel in sharp bursts of anger.

jj, who had been quiet the entire drive, kept stealing glances at you, but he didn’t ask any questions. he didn’t need to. you didn’t know how to answer him anyway.

the race was worse. even though the cheers of the crowd should’ve fueled you, you felt nothing but dread, a deep, gnawing sickness in your stomach. you could hear your name being shouted, the excitement of the crowd, but it all felt so distant. when you saw rafe’s face in the crowd, that sickening feeling only intensified. he was there, watching you, his eyes locked onto yours with something that twisted your insides.

and then there was her. the girl rafe had been with the night before. you hadn’t missed her, standing there in the crowd, glaring at you with an expression that made your blood boil. her eyes were cold, calculating, and when she met your gaze, she didn’t flinch.

“take it easy on him tonight,” she said, her voice sweet but laced with venom.

the words crawled under your skin. it was too much. you were already so close to the edge, and that was the final push you needed. before you knew what you were doing, your fist was swinging through the air and colliding with the underside of her jaw. she gasped as she stumbled backward, the crowd around you gasping as well.

for a moment, everything was silent, and you took a step forward, ready to finish what you’d started. but before you could, jj was there, his strong arms pulling you back with surprising force. he didn’t even give you the chance to go for her again.

“easy, easy,” he said, his voice low and urgent as he kept his grip on you. you could feel the heat of his hands on your arms, his breath against the back of your neck. he was trying to calm you down, trying to get you to focus, but it wasn’t working. the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of rafe’s eyes on you, watching everything unfold with a look you hadn’t seen before. sympathy? pity? it almost made you want to puke. you quickly looked away, not wanting to let him have the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

“look,” jj said, his voice softening, his tone more serious now. “i don’t know what’s going on with you, but whatever it is, you need to pull it together, okay? we’ve got five grand riding on this. you need to calm down.”

his words hit harder than you expected. five grand. that was all that mattered now, wasn’t it? you couldn’t let everything else get in the way. you nodded, your throat tight. you could feel your eyes threatening to well up, but you forced them to stay dry. you couldn’t break now. not yet. not with everything on the line.

the roar of the crowd still lingered in the air as you took your place at the starting line. your hands gripped the steering wheel, the leather cold beneath your fingers, but the heat from the race, from the tension building in your chest, quickly overpowered everything else. you kept your eyes forward, staring at the road, refusing to let your mind wander to anything else. not to the pit in your stomach, not to the fact that rafe’s car was right next to yours, not to the way you could feel his presence from the corner of your eye.

out of the corner of your vision, you caught him tapping on the window, the sound almost too soft against the chaos of the crowd. his eyes were no longer dark, no longer intense with that gleam of challenge. they were something else, something softer, but you refused to look at him. you wouldn’t. you kept your gaze on the road, your pulse racing, the air thick with the impending start of the race.

the countdown began, and with it, your heartbeat seemed to match the ticking clock until they went off. when they did, they came to life, and the world around you exploded into sound and movement. tires screeched as cars shot forward, speeding down the street, their engines roaring like wild beasts. the world blurred into a haze of color and sound, the air whipping past you, the car humming beneath you, and the rubber of the tires grinding into the asphalt as you pushed forward, faster, faster.

every turn, every maneuver felt like a calculated risk, your body swerving with the weight of the car, the grip of the tires, the thrill of the chase. the engine purred beneath you, urging you to push harder, to find the edge that would leave everyone else behind.

but your mind couldn’t help but flicker to rafe, his car beside yours, his presence there like a shadow, reminding you that something was there. you could feel him pushing, feel his need to win, just as much as you needed it. the sounds of the race around you—the screeching of tires, the hum of engines, the roars of the crowd—faded into the background. all that mattered was the road ahead.

but then, something happened. the way rafe’s car surged forward, the way his engine roared louder, faster, harder—it didn’t feel right. the energy shifted. You saw him from the corner of your eye, pushing his car up a steeper incline, his hands tightening around the wheel, his expression hidden behind the visor. it was the moment when you knew he was going too fast, too reckless. and then, you saw it—the press of the button, the one that activated the tank. the flash of light as it ignited.

you knew exactly what he was doing, and the thought hit you like a freight train. he was pushing it too far.

time seemed to stretch as the car lurched forward, the impact of the tank too much for his control. his car surged into the incline, the tires screeching, the engine roaring in a desperate cry. it was too much. the back end of his car fishtailed, and then, with a terrifying screech of metal against pavement, it veered off course.

your heart skipped a beat as you watched, the crash happening in slow motion. his car slammed into the barrier, the impact deafening as it crumpled like paper, and for a split second, all you could hear was the grinding of metal and the screeching of tires. the crowd’s roar became a distant hum, and your world narrowed down to the wreckage of rafe’s car.

your foot slammed on the brake, and the car skidded to a halt, the tires screaming in protest. you sat there, frozen, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. you could keep going. you could race to the finish line, claim the victory. you’d already beaten him in every other way. but your stomach twisted at the thought. you couldn’t leave him like this.

you were out of the car before you even realized it, your legs moving without thought, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. you ran toward the wreckage, ignoring the shouts of the crowd, the chaos around you. when you reached his car, your heart dropped into your stomach. the car was mangled, unrecognizable, the front crumpled and twisted. smoke poured from the hood, and you could barely see anything through the shattered glass.

he was unconscious, his head lolling to the side. his breathing was shallow, labored, but there. it was enough to make you breathe, though the sight of him—bloody, broken—sent a wave of nausea through your chest. you knelt by his side, your hands trembling as you reached for him, your heart hammering in your chest. the familiar coldness of his hand in yours sent a shock through you. his fingers were stiff, and you could feel the weight of his body, his pulse weak beneath your touch.

“rafe,” you whispered, panic creeping into your voice as you shook his shoulder. no response. “rafe, stay with me.”

you didn’t know what to do, how to fix this. you wanted to scream, to curse, to shake him awake, but all you could do was hold his hand and wait.

“help!” you screamed, your voice breaking through the chaos as you turned toward the crowd, looking for anyone who could help. “get the paramedics! now!”

every second felt like an eternity. time seemed to stand still as you knelt there, your fingers clutching his hand tightly, waiting for someone to come. his breathing was still shallow, but he was alive, and that was the only thing you could hold onto. you could barely think through the panic, through the raw, ugly emotion that twisted in your chest. you hadn’t meant for this to happen. you hadn’t meant for it to go this far. but now, all you could do was wait. wait for the paramedics. wait for the help that you knew was coming, but it felt so far away.

the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, a reminder of the countless times you’d been in a hospital, yet never this way. the last time you had been here, you’d watched your father slip away, his final breath taken in the cold, quiet halls of this place. it felt almost uncanny now, sitting next to rafe, your heart hammering in your chest, as you waited for something—anything—that told you he was going to be okay. the memories of your father’s final days pressed heavily against you, making the sterile whiteness of the room feel suffocating.

you sat in the chair next to his bed, gripping your hands tightly in your lap, your fingers aching from the tension. the beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room, a rhythmic pulse that felt too fragile, too tenuous. you kept your eyes trained on the floor, refusing to meet his face. the fear of seeing him in that state—broken, vulnerable—was too much. your mind raced, torn between the reality of the situation and the weight of everything you had just witnessed. and yet, despite all that, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to do something. anything.

then, something shifted. at first, it was so subtle you thought you imagined it. a slight twitch of his hand, the soft rise and fall of his chest. your heart skipped a beat. you leaned forward, unsure if you were imagining the movement, until you saw it again. a small, faint movement.

“what happened?” his words were slurred, barely more than a breath, but they were enough to make your heart tighten.

“you crashed,” you said, my throat thick with emotion. “you pushed too hard. you used the tank too early, rafe. you lost control of the car.”

“you came back for me?” his voice was small, vulnerable, almost childlike in its simplicity.

you nodded, your hand instinctively reaching for his, fingers shaking as you gripped his palm. “someone had to,” you whispered, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

your voice cracked as you spoke, the weight of the situation bearing down on you like a heavy storm cloud. his eyes shifted away from yours, gazing out the window, but there was something in his expression that you couldn’t ignore. the emptiness in the room, the absence of anyone else who cared enough to be there, was impossible to miss. no one had come for him, not even his family. it was just you. just you, sitting there, holding his hand, praying for him to wake up.

“you’re not the villain they think you are, rafe,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “you’re just hurt. you wanted to make your dad proud, didn’t you? you wanted to win for him because you think no one else could be proud of you. but you’re wrong. you act out because you’re scared, rafe. you won’t open up, because you’re scared.”

he turned his head slowly, meeting your gaze again. for the first time since you’d met him, you saw something in his eyes that wasn’t anger or arrogance. it was vulnerability. it was fear. and something else. something softer.

“you win, rafe,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you choked on the words. “if it means anything to you, you win.”

a tear, just one, slid down his cheek. he never cried. not in front of anyone, not in all the time you’d known him. but there it was, a single tear that betrayed everything he had tried so hard to keep hidden.

“i love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the weight of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

his hand was shaky as he placed it over yours, his fingers brushing against your skin with an almost desperate tenderness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “for everything. i can’t deal with any of this. i’m not strong enough to deal with anything, no matter how awful i act.”

you shook your head, your chest tightening at his words. “don’t act,” you whispered, squeezing his fingers. “you could’ve lost your life tonight, rafe. and then what?”

his eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again, there was a small, hesitant smile on his lips. “you could never lose me,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. “you know how i know?”

you shook your head, not understanding, but you didn’t press him. you simply waited, your heart heavy in your chest, as he gave my hand another squeeze.

“because you never lose.”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

a/n: ok guys be skibidi plz bc i had to shorten the ending thanks to tumblrs limit that i didnt even know existed

[pizzaapeteer]

speed dating

mattheo riddle x fem! reader. week 1 of @acourtofchaos festivalofau event!!

street racer!mattheo can't take his eyes off you even when he's driving, especially when you bring his heart to life by impressing him with your own skills.

an: big thanks to my love leigh for proofreading <3 I don't know anything about cars - this is very much inspired/uses fast and furious scenes, and I look forward to eventually writing a full fic for this au. ty for your patience as always <3 wc: 1.9k

"Okay, so next time, we're definitely dancing," you say with excited exasperation, the two of you exiting the rowdy Cuban restaurant and into the heart of street life. It's nearing 11pm on Friday, the beat of the night is picking up pace, like the rhythm of a song, the lively chatter blending into the roars of cars flashing by you.  

He laughs, shaking his head, "oh sweet cheeks, you won't catch me dancing," sliding his hands from his pockets, he places one on your lower back, gently guiding you respectfully. "Or at least not till the fourth shot of tequila."

The sound is so deep and rich; a low hum like a car's engine that makes your insides squirm with delight, and then he smiles like he's been doing all night. His lips curling up on the edges in a way that if his eyes weren't matching its sincerity, he'd have you queasy in an entirely different way. 

The way he looks at you, brown eyes that glimmer with warmth under the glow of the amber streetlights, as if light is blooming out from inside him. It's hard not to get attached, and that's the last thing you need right now. You've only known him a week. But there's something enticing, though dangerous about him, like a shot of whiskey knowing it's going to burn on the way down but overall spreading a fire of heat in the pit of your stomach. 

Offering him an infectious smile of your own playing on the challenge presenting itself. "Sounds as if you're encouraging me to get you intoxicated." Ardently, you raise a brow at his inquiry. "Is that something that interests you?" 

"There are a lot of things about you that interest me." His eyes sparkle with mystery, as he grins boyishly like he knew the affect those words would have on you.

You play it cool and collected, smiling back at him, the two of you strolling side by side, the silence isn't uncomfortable, and it hardly seems quiet with your heart becoming erratic, thumping around inside your ribcage like a hummingbird's wings. 

You pass by distinct smells of nicotine, a cigarette shared by couples couped in the alcoves of their doorways. Clangs and rackets of neighbourhood cats, balancing along fences, chasing one another. There are bopping beats of music heard from the thriving clubs and bars further down, invitingly attracting groups of young people from all over town. 

"So, this is me, my ride." Mattheo comments, as he stops you outside a parked bright orange car. He's offered to take you home, for a multiple of reasons. Some are selfish, wanting to show off his baby, not that he thinks you'll be highly interested, but it's his ego and pride, and it's worn just like the paint and wax shining proudly on the exterior. 

Other reasons, safety and protectiveness. He's always cared about women, and while he's only known you a week, he's grown extremely fond of you. He doesn't want you catching the bus like how you got here. And well, third, he just can't take his eyes off of you. He's never smiled so damn much on a date, the unfamiliar feeling of it beginning to make him nauseous. But it will be worth it, if it means he gets to see more of you.

"Woah, no way! You drive a supra turbo MKIV? That's so sick." The sudden and surprising exclamation from you makes his heart pound faster. Your jaw is practically touching the concrete, unable to pull your eyes away from the beast before you, a glimmer of awe in your eyes.

That is before you remember you're actually trying to impress Mattheo and not come across like a psychotic car fanatic, clearing your throat and tucking your hair back timidly. "I mean it's, um, a pretty colour." 

He laughs heartily, amused by your quick and terribly obvious action to hide your knowledge of cars. He flashes you a charming smile, feeling in wonder at the woman beginning to unravel, fishing his keys out. "You know cars?”

Pulling your eyes off of his car, you nod, admitting your fascination with them with a wide grin, "Yeah, a thing or two."

“You wanna take a spin?"

Flabbergasted, you speak, "What, seriously?" When you realize stupidly, this is your only way home you're clambering into the vehicle with buzzing excitement. It's so beautiful, the interior's sleek black seats lined with soft leather that have you sinking right into them. 

The dashboard illuminates, lighting up a neon orange, and the roar of the engine comes to life. It’s loud and powerful and makes your heartbeat full of adrenaline, a smile gracing your lips with excitement.

Mattheo's expression matches yours, his eyes blown a little darker, revving the car again, the deep rumble vibrating down to his bones. He flicks on the radio before he shifts the clutch into drive, taking off down the road and merging into the mainstream flow. 

It's busy, the night awakening with charged energy as Mattheo swerves in and out between gaps of cars, the wind blowing through your hair, the summer warmth of ocean breezes. "Where do you wanna go?"

You look over at him, only to find him already looking at you. The contact makes your pulse spike just like the kilometers increasing on the dash are. Your heartbeat pounds in your head, matching the roaring of the car. You don't even know him that well, and yet you have full trust in his ability to maneuver through the thick onslaught of traffic without looking.

He’s clearly got an edge of cockiness to him as his eyes continue to flicker back and forth, always taking the extra time to focus his gaze on you just a little longer. "Up for ice cream?"

The casualness in which he asks makes you laugh, "Might wanna keep your eyes on the road, pretty boy."

“Why you think we’re gonna crash?”

Flashing him a playful grin, you shrug. "Not sure yet. Should I be making a bet?"

He grins, enthused by your lack of worry, his hand shifting up the gear and pressing his foot harder onto the acceleration, the two of your eyes staying locked in contact. Mattheo's eyes no longer resembled that cool tone of warmth he exerted in the restaurant.

They shine brightly with a glimmer of exhilaration and a hint of darkening mischief. His smile is full and broad, expressing the thrill and joy he felt, like a boy with his favourite toy. 

The car zips with smooth control in between gaps, as flashes of vehicles pass in a blur on either side. The steady hum of vibrations continues drowning out the radio completely. All that's left is the wind, and the intense atmosphere shared between the two of you, making you wanna stay in the car forever.

A wave of disbelief cascades out of you with a breath of relief when he finally breaks, slowing down for the nearest stoplight. His eyes finally break their contact from you, and he relaxes his grip, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel. Taking the next right, he pulls up to the sidewalk, outside an adorable ice cream shop.

He tousles his dark curls, gazing at you with admiration he can't help but feel a sense of pride for your reaction to his flirtation. "How this?" Your body feels electric, the familiar dopamine rush fuelling every nerve. It's been so long since you got in a car this fast, you're craving more. "Not bad show pony." Grinning, you run a hand through your windblown hair, detangling the newly made knots.

"Driving or the dessert?" Mattheo asks, offering a toothy grin, angling his body towards you, resting his arms along the tops of the steering wheel. He's eager to impress. It's not often Mattheo wants to put real effort into his dates with pretty ladies. His mind constantly set on autopilot, a two-step routine. 1. Rev the beast and blow her mind and 2. rev his beast and blow her mind. 

And now he sits, admiring a beautiful woman, sitting in his passenger seat, looking like she's stepped straight out one of Enzo's automobile sex magazines. Excluding the lack of clothing, though, his mind has already gone there.

But there's something more about the way you're looking at him, a burning blaze of wildness that lights your face. It's radiant and alluring and he feels the pull, the magnet attracting him further in, something you're offering he didn't know he wanted.

You huff, amused, and don't answer yet, letting his question linger in the charged space between you two. "Both."

Pleased with your answer he begins to exit the car when you spit out the proposed suggestion, an itch that's dying to be scratched. "But! may I counter a second opinion?"

He sits back down at your polite protest, shrugging, he doesn't mind what the two of you do as long as you're enjoying yourself. "Yeah, sure just tell me where you wanna go."

"Actually, is it cool if i drive?" With a flutter of your lashes, you give him your best adorable smile full of sweetness, a known trick of yours to make a man concave in a heartbeat.

He raises an intrigued brow, wanting to make sure he's heard you correctly. "You want to drive?" The genuine smile on your face melts his heart, and he's suddenly stammering around like a dickhead, "Ah-I mean yeah alright."

As the two of you switch places, he can't help but think what the hell he's even doing, letting some random chick drive his baby. But it's that look in your eye, the sense of belonging and ease in which you sink into the driver's seat, that makes him relax with full faith you won't crash his precious car. 

Gripping the soft leather of the steering wheel, you immediately feel at home in the right seat. Familiar goosebumps of excited nerves prickle at your skin, turning the ignition, awakening the car back to life. Pressing your now bare foot hard onto the acceleration, you veer off, merging back into the nighttime flow of traffic. The prodigies breathe, blasts through the vehicle as you turn the speaker up, giggling with comfort. 

Mattheo watches bemused by your infectious happiness, how comfortable and free you appear. The wind fanning out through your hair, as you grip the wheel with a sense of familiarity glancing at him every so often with full-blown bliss. The car cruises into downtown Miami; zooming along the roads smoothly and Mattheo starts up the conversation again.

"Not bad-" his words halt on his tongue as the car swerves, swinging around wide, cutting across the next lane spinning in a 180, positioning the car backwards. That contagious laugh fills the car once again, as blares of horns honk from left and right at the sudden commotion.

His sweet brown eyes widen in surprise, and you giggle again at his reaction, snapping your head behind to see where to go. The car waltzes in and out of spaces, maneuvering skillfully between the lanes. 

He’s never believed in a god above, or soulmates or true love for that matter, but in that moment as his heart threatens to jump right out of his body he’s sure destiny has thrown him a bone and landed the most perfect woman in his lap. With everything he's learnt about you in the last couple hours, this knocks it all out of the park. How can a woman be this hot? His body is tense, including his cock that he swears is spurring to life faster than the miles on the dash are pushing. 

He's frozen, mesmerized at the scene, stuck in a state of pure astonishment and awe. His pulse is rising as he looks at the window, watching how the car swerves sharply. Repositioning itself facing forwards, to take the next right onto the offramp, leaving behind the sounds of tires screeching and another round of horns blaring behind.

Glancing at him, another free-flowing giggle escapes catching his bewildered stare, the car coming to a halt outside a charming sorbet parlour. Cutting the engine, you slip your shoes back on and exit the car.

He's still a little dazed comprehending the fact he wants to skip the rest of the date and drive you straight to bed the keys landing in his lap. You offer one of your famous shit-eating grins already on the pavement, “come on, keep up, Bambi.”

⤷ navigation. ⤷ masterlist. ⤷ mattheo masterlist. ⤷ dividers. All work is my own and is not to be copied, claimed or stolen. ©️pizzaapeteer 2025. ty for reading!!!

[nialovessatoru]

Redline Hearts

streetracer!gojo x mechanic!reader

ft. rival!sukuna

mdni!

content: smut, fast and furious!au, gojo x reader, tension, teasing & flirting, jealous!sukuna, slight angst, illegal street races, fluff, explicit sexual descriptions, piv sex, dry humping, oral m & f recieving, car sex

synopsis: Retired from street racing, you opted to tuning cars, only test driving them all by yourself, in peace and safety. Until the star of the streets crashes straight into your heart. You can’t help but keep meeting him, despite the danger of him finding out you work for his biggest rival. And god forbid the chaos that would ensue, if said rival found out you like to sneak around behind his back with the Gojo Satoru. And if it came down to it, were you able to sever ties with with an old friend to pursue the one who makes your heart race?

word count: 12k

archive

It is a few minutes past midnight in Tokyo when the streets are almost entirely empty, save for people occasionally heading to the train station to catch the last train for the night. That aside, the streets felt alive regardless of their desolateness as you were sitting in the dark red Mazda rx-7 that you had finished modifying by 2pm and decided to take a nap before you took his new weapon on a test drive.

Which is what you are doing right now, as your foot presses down on the gas pedal and the monster of a car you had brought to life, speeds through the streets of Tokyo. Racing past all the brightly coloured neon lights that make the city feel alive, you can feel the adrenaline soaring through every vein of your body. Spreading out from your hands on the steering wheel and up from your feet at the pedals, lighting up every artery which carried the rush through your body, reaching your heart and filling a void that had been infesting your body long enough so you had become almost entirely numb to it.

This was merely a test run. Just you and the car you’d spend over the past month on, dedicated for it to turn out perfect. No flags, no stakes, no crew, no bets.

You drive fast, able to see what’s in front of you just fine, but if you’d look out of the windows at the side of the car, you’d only see a blurr of colors. Yes, this is the way you liked it best, only you and the car, alone and in peace.

Or at least, so you thought.

A few streets away, driving into your direction, is an almost equally fast white Nissan gt-r. Inside of it, a driver with a spiky head of hair in the same, pure, bright shade.

He didn’t plan on racing tonight. Only bothering to drive through the city at this hour to scope out a rival build. And it’s not just any rival’s build. It’s the one that never plays fair, the only one who could challenge him enough to try and sneak a peek into his garage at night, the only one he’d lost to in the past 3 years. Ever since he was 25, he’d won any race he participated in and even before that, he rarely lost.

Until he raced Sukuna.

They always seemed to be eye to eye on races, one winning over the other, just to have the results turned around in the next race. But he was an adrenaline seeker at heart, so it’s not a surprise that when he sees your car speeding through the brightly illuminated streets of Tokyo under the dark night sky, he accelerates the speed of his car to catch up with you.

You hear the faint sound of another vehicle approaching yours from behind at rapid speed. Looking through the rearview mirror, you see the the icy white gt-r coming up right behind you, threatening to overtake. Your eyes narrow, you know this car— who it belongs to.

Satoru Gojo. The star of the streets, so they say. His name circles around like the smoke in every lane with each drift. He is the reason you sometimes have to spend day and night, listening to Sukuna rage, while you tune the fuck out of his car, convincing you to implement dangerous mechanisms in order to reach the car’s highest potential.

You did with this car. He insisted despite all your concerns. You weren’t too keen to try it out yourself. You’d quit street racing for a reason.

And yet, when you see the white gt-r approaching, you can feel the thrill of a real race come back. You love tuning and are content with only test driving all on your own, in peace, at least you kept telling yourself you didn’t miss racing that much.

And you don’t, for the most part. But he is a real challenge. The star of the streets racing you completely unprompted? You couldn’t turn away from this unspoken race, even if you wanted to. So you accelerate your car’s speed even more. A silent battle between your cars begins, with him almost overtaking multiple times, he kept you chasing him and you let him chase you. You both are playing a game. Racing through the streets, fully aware that you both are teasing eachother.

Until he speeds up significantly, rounding corners with an incredible trust in his abilities and his car. Your drifts are clean and precise, though your car isn’t as fast as his. It could be. Due to the mechanism you installed. As much as your rational mind tried to hold you back, you use it to almost it’s fullest potential, racing past him, engine roaring. After having proved to yourself and him that you still got it, you brake behind an old supermarket and bring your car to a stand. Getting out and leaning your back against the cold surface of the car to calm your racing heart. Of course, he’s right behind you, pulling up a few seconds later and getting out of his car. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He’s freakishly tall and relaxed. With a cocky grin on his face despite having lost to you, although it wasn’t a real race.

“Didn’t think i’d find somebody else dumb enough to hit those turns at that speed, with nothing but risks at stake at that.”

“Especially not someone so gorgeous.”

You half scoff half laugh at that. Turning to look at him. You’d known he was hot, seen him from afar at races before. But standing here before you, you truly notices just how much of a pretty man he was. His light eyes and hair shining under the low streetlights as he walks up to you. And then there was his voice, that carefree, cocky and somehow gentle tone that soothed the racing thrill in your mind that made you tilt your head at him and ask,“You always chase someone halfway through the city then?” His voice although still teasing is more intense, like his gaze that’s fixed on you. “Only when they’re worth chasing.”

Repressing a smile as you seize up his car to avoid eye contact, you decide to add “You’d be even faster on your right turns, if you got your suspension rebalanced and dropped a few pounds off the front end.”

Eyes widening slightly in awe he steps closer to you, “Oh? You tune?” and inquiring more when you nod, gesturing to the rx-7 “That’s also your work?” Which you confirm and he steps closer to admire it further, although his admiration for the car is short lived as he focuses his pretty eyes on you. One hand that was trailing over the hood of your car stopping dangerously close to where your hip rests, standing right before you, voice deeper and measured but it keeps it’s teasing edge. “Wanna take a look at mine next?” Somehow, with the unsubtle way he is checking you out, you get the feeling he isn’t talking about his car.

Any other day you probably would have just brushed him off, he’s the biggest rival of Sukuna and his crew. The people you usually tune for, if Sukuna knew you are even entertaining the idea… you don’t even want to think about what he’s do, much less risk finding out by chance.But with fresh adrenaline still running through your veins and the way his warm hand rests just a little too close to the hem of your skirt overrides all rational thought. “I guess maybe you could come by sometime.”

“Maybe? You need some convincing?” And his fingers trail over your hip at the hem of your skirt. His touch is light but it ignites a fire within you. Still, you don’t let your guard down and gently take his hand from your hip, though with hesitation, your warm hands lingering on his cold, soft but strong ones for a few seconds too long. “Bring your car, and cash. Not your hands. And you can come by.” The sound of his laugh followed you all the way back home, after you’d given him your number and said, you’d give him a date (one where you knew neither Sukuna nor one of his acquaintances would be around).

You are ripped from your sleep the next day by your door slamming open and a gruff voice, “Why the fuck are you still asleep?”.

Better question. Why the fuck had you given him the spare keys to your house again??? It may have been around 2pm, but you didn’t appreciate being woken up like this, no matter the time. Opening your eyes, you see his pink head of hair and as usual, a scowl tugging at his face. “I need my car.” Hurling a pillow at him, which he catches effortlessly with an amused scoff, you turn your head back into your spare pillow and muffledly respond something about five more minutes.

Your phone kept ringing as you explained the car’s mechanics next to him, until it got on his nerves and he went to grab it. “Can you tell whoever that is to fuck off?”. Quickly, you snatch it out of his grasp before he can look at your screen, snapping back “Can you mind your fucking business?” He grunts irritably, the glare on his face deepening and turning back to the car. You repress letting out a sigh of relief as you notice the messages you prevented him from seeing. It was Gojo. The very same man he was bragging about beating with this car not even five minutes later.

Really, you don’t know why he bothers to act this way over you when he’s literally the one taking another girl home every race—scratch that. He probably doesn’t even wait until they’re home and just fucks them in the car that you tuned. It’s not like you care who he sleeps with but his hypocrisy gets on your nerves. You’d already explained to him multiple times you were cool with whatever he’s doing, but you want no part of it, if he’s not all for you. He didn’t understand that. Not that you expected him to. But there was this weird tension whenever you two were alone and the focus wasn’t soely on cars or tactics. Or when a guy would hit on you and Sukuna would go intimidate him, but every time you asked what that was about, he’d just tell you they’re all shitty assholes.

Like he isn’t one himself.

Safe to say, you feel like a weight is lifted off your shoulders the moment he gets into -your- his newly tuned car and drives off.

You’d been ignoring Gojo while he was here, too scared of the risk of Sukuna seeing who texted you. He was already weirdly angry everytime a guy would even hint at flirting with you— you don’t want to know experience the way he’d act up if he found out you were meeting up with his biggest rival behind his back, while driving his car.

Oh, and he was ecstatic when he saw your name on his screen. He’d expected a snarky text back but your call was a nice surprise. “Heyy sweetheart. Already miss me?”

“I’m free now. If you wanna come over and have me check out your car.”, you try to sound indifferent to seeing him again.

There’s a pause on the line, not because he’s caught off guard but because he’s savouring it. Leaning his head back and cheesing, you can hear the grin in his voice. “Ahh, didn’t think i would hear from you so soon. And so eager too— should i be flattered or worried?”

“Don’t read too much into it. I just don’t have any other plans today.”

He grabs his keys and you can hear them jingling faintly over the line. “Guess i should just count myself lucky you decided you want me to fill your time.”

Letting out a sigh, you don’t know if you’re going to regret this or have a fun time with -him- his car that you’d dreamt about working on. “See you then.” Hanging up before he can answer, you text him your address and decide to put on an outfit that’s cuter than your oversized, stained shirt. Twenty minutes later, you can hear tires screeching on the street in front of your garage. You walk outside and wave him into your garage. Inside he gets out of his car, whistling as he looks you up and down. “Heyy gorgeous.”

“You don’t need to call me all that.”, you turn around to hide your blush, fumbling with some tools, but he walks up behind you, his voice vibrating in your ear. “You haven’t even told me your name. What am i supposed to call you?”

You turn around to face him and almost blush again at his closeness. You… hadn’t?

“Weren’t you bothered you that you don’t have a name to put to this handsome face? I know i was— am.”

“You think really highly of yourself.”, you look back into his eyes and give him your name, which he repeats a few times as if savouring it, then leans closer, chuckling. “The name’s Gojo Satoru, but you can call me Satoru.”

“I know.” Fuck. You and your big fucking mouth. You had a reasonable explanation that he seems to already be piecing together, but…

“Ahh i see, my name precedes me, as a mechanic, you’d know the name of one of Tokyo’s biggest street racers. Well, now i’m really flattered.” …you really don’t need to inflate any man’s ego.

“It’s not a big deal. People talk a lot all the time.” Putting a hand on his chest, and letting it linger on him for longer than it needs to because— damn he’s ripped as fuck, you shove him away to escape the hot, suffocating distance.

You let go and turn to his car, it really was a beautiful car -beautiful car belonging to a beautiful man-.

One of your hands trails over the hood of his nissan gt-r, crouching down to examine the front bumper, you try to focus, shuddering as you remember how solid his chest had just felt under your palm.

“Looks clean for the most part, but your left tire is under inflated, you’re loosing speed on your right turns and risk delaying them if it deflates even more.” You absentmindedly speak, while examining his car, adding, “and if you really wanted it to gain speed, you could switch the bumper to a lighter one, but that’s really just me being petty.”

Gojo is utterly impressed by your meticulousness, his mouth slightly agape, stunned as he watches you examine his car, it doesn’t help that your skirt had ridden up just the slightest bit. He swallows hard, regaining his composure before laughing, “So you’re saying i’m a pretty amazing driver for winning left and right, despite being handicapped?”

Well, yes, pretty much exactly that. But it’s not like you’re going to give him the satisfaction of saying that aloud. Glancing back at him over your shoulder with a raised brow, you reply, “I’m saying, you need to take better care of your car and run your mouth less, if you don’t want to crash into a ditch in your next sharp turn at high speed.”

When you stand back up and fully look at him, he almost looks like he’s… pouting? With his bottom lip pushed out, pretty and glossy from him probably running his tongue over it. It made you wonder what else he could do with it, if he would kiss you gently and slowly run his tongue along your mouth, or if he would plunge it right in, kissing messy and needy. -You could bet a hundred dollars that you could make him beg.-

“I’m treating her veryyyyy well.”

You snap out of wherever your imagination was running and tilt your head at his insistence in full confusion. “What? Who?”

He nods his head towards his car. “Her.”

“Her..?” you sceptically raise one of your eyebrows. “You really refer to your car like it’s a woman?” Not being able to bite back the urge to tease him, you stifle a giggle with one hand. “So desperate you need to project your lack of a love life onto your car? Do you kiss her goodnight too?”

Unashamed, he walks closer to you, winking. “Only if she’s been good.”

“Oh, so your love is conditional? Tsk tsk… she deserves better.”

He rests his hand against the side of his car, caging you in, just like when you first met. He gives you space to move away— you don’t. “No, my love is unconditional but I believe in… performance based rewards.”

You force out a chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice your blush. “Wow. Lucky her.”

He leans down, his face hovering only inches away from yours, “Jealous?”

A scoff escapes your mouth, it’s weaker than you want it to be, “Of your car? You’re ridiculous…” And yet, you lean in too, only slightly but it gives him enough confidence to place the hand that was on his car on your waist. Barely, but enough to let you know that the desire in his eyes was burning just for you.

“Are you sure? You’ve been eyeing me like you want me to take you for a ride instead.”

Your breath hitches, his lips brush yours and his low voice sends an evil flutter down your stomach, making you core spasm and coat your panties with sticky arousal, when he adds “Or would you prefer i leave the riding to you, princess?”

This time, he’s definitely not talking about cars. And you’re glad he isn’t. You lean in, your hands fisting his shirt as your lips lock onto his and he deepens the kiss almost immediately. His lips are soft and the kiss is slow, but passionate. He tightens his grip on your waist, pushing your back against the surface of his car. You gasp when he shoves one knee between your legs, putting friction on your aching clit, “Gojo—“

“—Satoru, baby. Call me Satoru.” He’d been teasing you with nicknames, but the way he called you baby so naturally, so confident, made your head spin. “Fuck, okay. Satoru.”

He humms against your jaw, between kisses he plants on it, “Hm?”

“W-what about your car?”

Chuckling, he picks you up, both hands on your hips as your legs wrap around his waist and he places you on the hood of his car.

“My car? She’s not going anywhere.”

Rolling your eyes at the female connotation he forces onto his car, you pull away a bit, “No, seriously. Didn’t you come to let me tune it?”

“That can wait.” And he’s kissing you again, more hungrily, hands on your thighs, kneading them and pulling you flush against him. His clothed, hardening cock brushing against your core and he lets out a soft moan as he starts grinding against you—a loud crash and the metal echoing from the fall breaks the moment.

He pulls away and you do too, standing up but holding onto the side of his car, knees still weakened. You let out a sigh of relief as you see that it was just a wrench, you’d placed carelessly on the edge of your table. Meanwhile Satoru lets out a groan, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he stands behind you, “Not your shop trying to cockblock you.”

Not being able to repress a small laugh, you push his head off of you and pat his cheek, stepping away to pick up the wrench and put it where it belongs. “Good. Maybe it has better judgement than we do.”

After mutually agreeing that he’d come back in a few days where he’d get lighter bumper for his car, since you had none that specifically fit his car, you fixed his tires and tell him goodbye.

He’s lingering on the outside of his car door, fumbling with the keys in his hand as if he’s nervous. “Um. I’ll see you.”

Your eyes narrow a bit at his behavior but you shrug it off, “…Yeah, just make sure you tell me before you plan to come ov—“

And he hugs you goodbye, his strong arms only encircling your body for a short moment before he slips into his car and drives off.

You’re left dumbfounded, with heated cheeks and a racing heart.

Suguru is leaned under the hood of his black ccxr, the garage smelling like burnt rubber and metal as Satoru walks in, sunglasses pushed back on into his soft hair.

“Thought you wanted to go for a drive?”, Suguru’s voice echoes from beneah his car.

“I am.” Satoru circles his car and taps the front bumper just in time for Suguru to see as he slides out from under his car. “Figured i should swap this to a lighter one though.”

Raising an eyebrow, the raven haired man questions, “Lighter? Seriously?”

The former shrugs, “Every millisecond counts, right?”

With a sigh, Suguru gets up and wipes his hands on a rag, muttering, “Overambitious but sure. I’ve got time right now. I’ll help you put it on.”

Twirling his keys around his finger, Satoru’s

already opening his car door and shaking his head, “Nah, i’m good.” He grins. “I’m taking it to an actual professional.”

Suguru’s brows knit together in confusion. They always tune their cars together. Always have.

“Seriously?”

“Yup. She’s a real professional— real pretty too.”, Satoru leans against his car with one arm, internally swooning over you.

“Uh-huh.” Assuming he’s trying to find a euphemism for a hookup because why else would he suddenly get his car tuned by someone else, when they’ve been doing it together for years. “…so…. it’s not actually about cars?”

Confused, Satoru’s nose scrunches up. “Ehhh? No no no, it is. She rebalanced my suspension last time, my car runs smooth as hell now.”

Now that makes Suguru deadpan. “I’ve been telling you to get your tires fixed for weeks, Satoru.” And he’d always brush him off.

With a silly pink flush on his pale cheeks, Satoru just sheepishly chuckles, making Suguru prod further. “Are you gonna tell me who this actual professional is?”

Satoru only grins and gets into his car, waving at him cheekily, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

After he drove outside, Suguru was left standing there, staring at the empty space where his car had been. And then his lips curl into a sly smile as he recalls the times he’d caught him smiling at his phone or sneaking away to make a call…

You’re currently stirring the pasta you’d made yourself for dinner and were very much looking forward to eating. It’s been three days and you haven’t received a single text from Satoru. Maybe he just had a lot to do, or maybe he hasn’t been able to get a lighter bumper yet. There are other possibilities you don’t want to consider because you realize that you really barely know him. You suppose, maybe it’s different because you’ve known of him beforehand, while he’s met you for the first time a few weeks ago. Still, it felt weird. He’d been spamming you with texts and calls before he’d been to your garage, but now? Does it have something to do with what you did—or almost did, in your garage? Maybe it was about that awkward goodbye you’d had. You shake your head vehemently. Stupid stupid stupid stupid thoughts. It really isn’t that serious.

Or maybe it is, because the doorbell rings only a few seconds after and instead of your fear of Sukuna coming over becoming reality, It’s the white haired fool.

“I thought i told you to call, or text me before you come over!”

God, you don’t even want to think about what if Sukuna actually was here, if he’d been the one to open the door… A shudder runs down your spine but you snap out of it when you see his eyes on you, and instead of the usual teasing, carefree look, he seems concerned. About you? Why?

“Hey… Sorry about that.” He slowly steps inside when you automatically move to the side. “Are you okay?”

Luckily, you recover quickly from your overthinking habits and are able to smile, “Yeah yeah, just…” you smack the back of his head with your palm, “don’t show up unannounced. Do you even know that you look like a major creep?” You also wondered why he didn’t bother texting you, but you weren’t about to bring that up, when you just decided that it isn’t that serious.

He ruffles his head where you smacked him, not because it hurts because he’s grinning like that just made his day. “Sorry, sorry. I promise, i won’t forget again.” adding a quieter, “Are you gonna kick me out?”

You did contemplate it for a moment but you don’t actually want him to leave.

“Depends. Are you hungry?”

He blinks, confused. “Huh? Like what— like, for you? Hell yeah! You know, i’ve actually been dreaming about—“

You interrupt him with another smack to his head, before he can finish that sentence. “I mean actual food, dumbass. I made pasta.”

“Oh. Ohhhhh.” For a moment, he’s actually flustered but that quickly switches back to his usual attitude, “So we’re eating together? Like a married couple? Are you going to feed me too?”

You grimace as you turn off the stove. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Chuckling with that casual tone of his, he leans against your fridge, “so… you’ve been thinking about me?”

Your hands pause, hovering over the pots. “What?”

“Weeellll, earlier, when you opened the door, you looked like you’ve seen a ghost. But not in the bad kind, more like ‘oh wow, i’ve been totally imagining this moment but i’m not prepared for it’ kind of way.”

You snort a laugh. He wasn’t all that wrong, you were thinking about him more than you wanted to but this scenario was just so ridiculous and outright cocky.

“Have you ever considered that i just wasn’t expecting anyone? Don’t flatter yourself too much.”

He shrugs, “Ehh, yeah, sure. But of course i prefer the version where you’ve been fantasising about me.”

You’d definitely put double chilli powder in his portion sauce.

After deciding you’ve felt enough satisfaction from seeing him suffer and squirm, lips red and puffy from the spice, you even told him and agreed to switch plates because you can handle spicy food. And then he was actually able to enjoy the food you made.

For a while, you two eat in comfortable silence, but then he asks a question that’s been on his mind ever since he first met you.

“You know, you’ve got hella skills behind the wheel. But i’ve never seen you in a proper race, or heard of you and i sure as hell know you’d be talked about if you’d participate in bigger events.”

“Not everyone cares for that.”

He pouts, with his slightly reddened and plumped lips from the spice, he looks cute. “Sure but… i guess i’m wondering. Why don’t you race?”

To which you pause, stirring the pasta on your plate around, “Ah… long story, i guess.”

Satoru rests his head on his palm, “Not like i’ve got somewhere to be.”

Placing your fork down with a sigh you relent, “Okay, it’s not actually a long story.”

He nods, waiting for you to continue.

“I kinda had an accident.”, you mumble almost under your breath.

“Like a bad one?”

You shrug, “I dunno. Don’t remember.”

Leaning forward on the table, he prods, his blue eyes soft but seemingly piercing right through you, “So you’re afraid?”

“No.” Your answer comes out a little too quickly, more like a reflex, so you add, “I mean, maybe, a little. But mainly… someone else sort of made me.”

His eyes widen, “Someone made you?“

Shaking your head you exhale deeply, “Not really but kind of. He just kept saying that i’ll get myself killed and made a fuss, so i just…”

Satoru stays quiet for a moment, not judging you but thinking, trying to understand. “And you let him tell you what to do?”

“I wouldn’t say that… i just-“ you trail off, fixing your thoughts for a second. “since i can’t remember the accident… i guess he wasn’t too far off, i may have been reckless, i was younger. So after i recovered, i stuck to tuning and as you know, occasionally test drive, but not real races… it’s just safer that way.”

Putting your last tools away after having attached the lighter bumper to his car and checked all of his tires again, which were fine now, curtesy to you, you lean back on your workbench and face Satoru— who’s eyes are surprisingly trained on you instead of the car you’d tuned. You were explaining something about his car, rambling even. Showing your nerdy tendencies when it came to cars and their mechanics, though when you notice the way he is staring, you trail off and your cheeks flush the tiniest bit. “What?”

He smiles, looking at you the same way he had after he realized you were seriously asking him to eat dinner with you earlier. It wasn’t a cocky, relaxed smile, it was soft and genuine, his eyes fixed on you in a way that makes you feel seen. You weren’t used to this… gentleness, to someone being so attentive of you.

“Nothing, nothing… i just think you’re really cute like this.”

Yous stomach flutters dangerously, the way it has been with him. He keeps getting to you in a way no one ever has before. It scares the shit out of you because you’re not used to being vulnerable. But you find yourself not wanting to run. You aren’t sure if you want to take the risk of being hurt for him, although deep down you know that you do. You let him in time and time again, almost involuntarily because it just came so easy, so naturally with him.

Yous stomach flutters dangerously, the way it has been with him. He keeps getting to you in a way no one ever has before. It scares the shit out of you because you’re not used to being vulnerable. But you find yourself not wanting to run. You aren’t sure if you want to take the risk of being hurt for him, although deep down you know that you do. You let him in time and time again, almost involuntarily because it just came so easy, so naturally with him.

“Cute..? Really?” Brushing hair out of your face that was messy, sticking up and to your forehead, desperately needing a shower, stains on your shirt and you were rambling about car mechanics—and he thinks you’re cute??

He nods, looking unfazed on the surface but in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him pick on his nails and the redness that was more intense than usual while he stepped forward also doesn’t escape your attention. Until the teasing edge in his voice comes back and he grins boyishly, “Yeah, i mean, you were so focused, putting your all into my car and then you’re nerding off about mechanics… Like whew, are you trying to seduce me?”

You bite your lip, returning his grin, “So it’s working?”

You don’t notice that he pulled a stack of cash out of his pocket until he takes your hand and places it in your palm, eyes widening at the fact that it’s far more than you’d ever charge for exchanging the bumper and fixing his tires, you were about to protest but he winks at you and reassures you before you can. “A bit extra. Consider it a thank you for uh… everything. Dinner too, it was great. Though, i’ll take you out properly next time. I mean… if you want?”

Almost immediately, without even thinking about it, you reply, “Yeah. Of course.”

He squeezes your hand with both of his. “Great. And don’t worry about the Cash, it’s fine, really.” Then he adds, in a confident, cocky tone, “I’ll get it back in at the next race anyways. I’ll go all out, i promise, it’d be a disservice to the work you put into my car.”

He says it as if you did anything special. You barely did anything at all to his car but he’s so appreciative, it’s heartwarming.

Though it doesn’t last long because internally, your mind is screaming. The race in a week. He told you about it while you were working on his car earlier but you were too focused on what you were doing to put the pieces together until now. And you feel like an idiot. The race. The stupid race. It’s the same one Sukuna’s been telling you about. The one for which he convinced you to install a multi staged nitrous kit for and rid the car of all limitations that were there for safety. Thinking about the monster you’d created in doing so, made you nauseous already. But realizing that Satoru will be there, racing against that? The possibilities of everything that could happen make your throat close up.

You don’t even notice that your breathing has slowed and you are trembling until warm, strong, calloused hands squeeze yours and you look up to see blue eyes piercing through you, his eyebrows furrowed in worry. He says your name a few times and you blink. At his hands on your trembling ones, the door to your garage, the ceiling lights, his car and at him. He’s saying your name, with a softness that makes you want to curl up into his chest and cry.

But why are you so vulnerable now? It’s fine. It’s okay. Whatever happened at races had never been your business. You never cared. Never cared that Sukuna would be racing against Satoru, until you got to know him and he was everything. Offered you everything Sukuna never could in his wildest dreams. Seeing you— caring about what he sees in a way Sukuna would never even dare try.

He places one hand on your shoulder, and rubs your back comfortingly, his voice so assured and kind, “I’ll be safe. I promise you. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

He interprets your reaction as a sign of the lingering fear of your accident you’d mentioned earlier.

“That’s not what i’m worried about.” You reply, steadying your voice.

It isn’t the car you are worried about, your tuning is, despite the mechanism, safe and secure enough to last. Neither are you worried about Sukuna playing dirty. He is too cocky for tricks.

Satoru tilts his head, still rubbing your back, “You sure? Because it’s totally fine if you are. I get it, it’s scary. You may not remember the accident but that doesn’t mean you can’t be scared.”

Taking a deep breath, you silently wrap your arms around him. Hoping that he’ll remain this sweet to you after the race. Hoping that nothing will change.

You’re worried because essentially, you’re betraying him. Betraying both of them.

And you don’t think Satoru will see it that way, you know he’ll try his best to reason and be understanding the same way he is now. But Sukuna? He’s a ticking time bomb and it makes you sick thinking about what he might do when he finds out. He’s big on loyalty. Incredibly so.

Pushing these thoughts away, you are grounded to the present moment by Satoru’s warmth. The way his chin rests on the top of your head, his strong arms around you and tones chest against your cheek. Inhaling his scent, you’re calming down. In this moment, everything is alright. So you stop worrying and focus on the now.

Eventually, both of you pull away and you’re calm again. At peace and safe, as you always seem to be with him.

After he is sure you’re safe he says his goodbye, opening his car door, but before he can get in, you grab his chin and kiss him. It’s a messy kiss when your lips meet and you pour all of your worries and affection for him in it. He tugs you closer by the waist, fingers digging into your skin beneath the shirt and moans breathily when you bite his lower lip, sucking on it.

He pulls back slightly, eyes darkened and wide with need, his voice rough and low,

“If you keep kissing me like that, i might have to drop down on one knee and put a ring on your pretty fingers.”

Gently swatting his chest, you gasp, cheeks flushed, “Don’t… don’t just say stuff like that.”

He nuzzles his forehead against yours, “You’re right, by the time i actually do, i won’t spoil the surprise like this.”

“You’re insane.”, you breathe out as your hands slide from his cheeks to the back of his head, closing your eyes for a second.

“Do you know what’s actually insane?”, he pulls his forehead away to look down at you, hands gripping your hips and pulling your body closer against the hard, hot planes of his chest. Your heart pounds in your chest as you wait for him to continue.

“That i haven’t properly tasted you yet.”

Before you can properly react he lifts you up with his hands grabbing your ass, making you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

“You’re so beautiful.” He places you down on the hood of his car. The sleek metal of the car cools the heated skin of your bare legs beneath your shorts.

Your hands are still clutching his shoulders, head spinning as you reply to him, “Wait, but i’m all gross after working on your car—“

His hands caress your thighs almost reverently, “No- god, no. I swear you’re the sexiest woman ever. You could never be gross to me.”

His hands on your thighs slide dangerously high, barely slipping beneath your shorts but so so close to where you need him most as he keeps talking with a low, breathy voice, his eyes almost hungry. “Please, just let me eat you out. Right now. You don’t need to do anything. I’ll take care of you if you’ll let me.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, frozen for a moment as your legs wrap around his waist tighter to keep him close.

“I need to taste you, just this once… —or maybe a hundred times more but please let me do this right now.”

He keeps mumbling, planting soft, deliberate kisses over your neck.

And fuck, you need him probably just as much. So you cup his face and kiss him again, whispering against his lips, “Just shut up and do it.”

That’s all he needs because he immediately drops to his knees in front of you, tugging your shorts and panties off, tossing them somewhere neither of you care to look.

He spreads your legs and places them on his shoulders, his face between your thighs, which he places messy, wet kisses all over.

You’re about to tell him to hurry, tugging your hands in his fluffy white hair to pull him closer, when his tongue licks a long stripe over your already wet folds.

A strangled gasp escapes you when he sinks his tongue into your pussy immediately after. His hands are gripping your thighs, as he thrusts his tongue into you. “Fuckkkk, you taste so good…”, he mutters against your skin, his low voice vibrating against your core.

Breathlessly, you whine, “Satoru, please… more…”

And you don’t need to tell him twice because he’s eating you out, licking, kissing, sucking on your clit like a starved man.

You keep him in place as he sucks on your clit, his teeth gently pulling on it, making your legs tremble around his head as you feel the pressure building up even further in your lower stomach. “Oh, fuck! I’m so close.”

That only makes him suck on your clit harder, more desperately. By the time he slides two fingers inside of you, you’re falling apart in his mouth, over his hand, on his car. He gently places kisses around your cunt, looking up at your glazed over expression through white lashes, while he slowly thrusts his fingers inside for a few more times to prolong your high.

He pulls them out after a bit, sucking your slick off of them, but instead of getting up, he stays on his knees for a bit, rubbing your thighs while looking up at you.

You tiredly tug on his hair, wanting him closer, so he stands up and wraps his arms around you, lifting you up and kissing you softly. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes you hum into the kiss.

He carries you into your house, letting you point the way to the bathroom and he showers together with you, his hands all over you, caressing your body sensually, keeping his eyes on you as if he’s admiring you.

Later in bed, he’s laying next to you, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and you can feel him hesitate— see the question forming in his head as he speaks, “Do you want me to leave?”, his voice is gentle and low. He’s not asking out of insecurity but out of respect for you, giving you the space to pull away if you wanted to.

Your brows furrow and you shake your head, taking his hand and placing it on your waist, shifting closer to him, “What? Don’t be stupid.”, you pull him into a kiss, slow and needy, tongues meeting and you suck on his bottom lip to hear that whiney sound he makes when you do.

He pulls you closer by your waist and deepens the kiss. One of your hands trails over his bare chest, taking in the hard planes of his muscles under your fingertips, sliding down over his v-line, to the hem of his pants. He trails his hands upwards to tug off your shirt, his lips trailing down from your jaw to your neck, to your collarbones and now exposed breats. “God, baby, you’re so gorgeous.” And you feel him shift to hover above you, his hands kneading the flesh of your breasts, popping one nipple into his mouth and sucking on it, tongue flicking over the bud, making surges of pleasure shoot through you.

Your own hand tugs down his pants, freeing his hard cock. Wrapping your hand around him and stroking slowly, you feel just how big he is. He gasps and releases your nipple, going back up to kiss you, wet and sloppy, whining into your mouth as you stroke him.

One of his hands slides down into your panties, running his fingers over your already dripping cunt, “You’re so wet for me”, he mumbles into your skin, sinking two fingers knuckle deep into you. You squeeze his cock harder in your hand when he scissors his fingers just right and both of you moan in unison.

You release his cock to take off your panties but he’s already pulling them down with your free hand, tossing them into a corner for the second time that day.

His hands grip your thighs and he lines himself up with your cunt, sliding his tip through your wet folds, making you whine,

“Satoru, fuck me already.”

He chuckles breathlessly against the skin of your neck, tingling you there.

“So impatient… i’m on it, sweetheart, don’t worry.” A loud moan falls from your lips when he finally sinks his entire length inside of you, pausing and gripping your thighs as if to compose himself.

He starts thrusting in slowly, shallowly, one hand cupping your breast and squeezing. When he sees your pretty eyes looking up at him with need, he picks up the pace, bottoming out until only the tip remains inside of you and slamming back in. His hips snapping against yours, stretching you out so good. Your legs wrap around his waist but he takes one and lifts it up over his shoulder, the new angle allowing him to reach even deeper. “Fuck, you’re so tight..”

Your nails rake over his back, leaving red lines all over, and that only seems to turn him on more because he rubs your clit with one hand in response. “Oh yes, just like that!” You moan and clench tighter around him, his own hips stutter slightly but he holds himself back, pushing you over the edge first. Your eyes are locked on his, mouth open in silent, breathy moans as the tsunami of pleasure crashes over you, clinging onto him.

He keeps thrusting into you, hand releasing your clit and tangling in your hair, lightly pulling on it, “I’m gonna— shit— Should i pull out?”

Your arms only wrap around his back tighter in response, shaking your head, “Want it inside.”

He looks at you with need and keeps rutting into you, replying with a breathy voice, “Fuck, okay.”

And he thrusts deeply inside of you, hips staggering, pressing against yours as you feel his warm cum fill your belly.

He rides out his high by shallowly thrusting into you a few more times, stuffing his cum inside of your cunt, his forehead resting against yours, savouring the moment of being connected to you physically.

After a moment of letting you both catch your breath, he pulls his head away to look at you, his hands cupping your face and capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

He rolls his softening cock for a few more times, still nestled inside of your cum filled cunt, whispering your name against your lips.

When he pulls out, he lays his head down on your chest and you caress his hair. You’re both silent for a moment until he looks up and places another kiss on your lips, like he can’t get enough of you, “You’re so perfect.”

He says it so earnestly, like it’s nothing, it makes your stomach flutter and cheeks heat up.

“And you’re ridiculous..”

“Ridiculously hot.” He smirks and you giggle tiredly, “Sure sure.”

You settle properly into bed, nuzzling against eachother after he cleaned you up, tiredness overcoming both of you, he sleepily rubs your back, your eyes closing and you only nod against his chest when he speaks, “I meant everything i said.”

And you believe him.

A few days pass and the time span leading up to the race gets shorter. Satoru and you stay in contact, calling sometimes but often texting eachother. It’s easy with him, you can feel your affection and care grow for him day by day, no matter how much you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach whenever you see his name light up your screen. You barely even think about the conflict that you knew was bound to come when they— especially Sukuna, find out about you having been tangled up in them both.

Until reality snaps back in.

Currently, you’re eating dinner with Sukuna and his crew after coming over and doing some last check-ups to ensure his car was flawless for the upcoming race. And you’d stayed over to eat dinner, like you always did before a bigger race. Just with the difference that earlier, when you and him were closer—when he wasn’t a complete asshole towards you—you’d stay the night and he’d often fuck you till sunrise.

But ever since he started entertaining more and more women, while you were around and he’d see you less whenever you said you didn’t feel like warming his bed, you broke it off, the entire weird-whatever-exactly-it-was friends with benefits thing. You didn’t have feelings for him like that, but it sucked being treated the way you were and okayyy, maybe you liked him a little more than you’d wanted to admit, or else you wouldn’t have longed for him to be all over you outside of bed too.

You are over it though. Have been.

Shots are being passed around, which you refuse, you’re more in your head than usually. Sukuna is an asshole but he’d been your friend… or something… for years. Did he really deserve that you fucked his biggest rival, one that he’s told you countless times that he despises, behind his back?

When you bring your plate to the kitchen after dinner, he’s there. Studying you with his usual scowl, but his eyes seemed more brooding than sharp. Before you can ask him what his problem is, he asks, “You good?”

You blink. Since when did he care?

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Hm.” He tilts his head at you, his voice so… unusually gentle. “Stay the night.”

Not a question, a demand. Just how you knew him. And so casually too— you don’t know if you want to yell at him or pretend you’re nor fazed at all. You don’t have the chance to do either, when your phone vibrates on the kitchen counter. A call. If this wasn’t some insurance scam, then it could only be one other person calling you after the sun had long set. Sukuna glances at it, and your hand moves quickly as you grab it, scared he’d see. “Give me a sec.”

You step away and try to keep your voice down, hushedly talking into the speaker, “Hey… you know, you probably picked the worst possible time to call.”

“You in trouble or something? Everything okay?”

Biting your lip and glancing back over the shoulder, hoping Sukuna is far enough away to overhear anything and exhaling when you notice that he probably is. “All good, just bad timing, as i said. But i am glad you called. I’ll call you back?”

You can hear the grin in his voice, “Sure thing, sweetheart.”

To which you lightheartedly roll your eyes, repressing a smile and ultimately hang up. It’s funny how quickly you can go from almost spiraling in the pain you’d been through due to Sukuna, to feeling wanted. With Satoru you feel grounded, like you’re not just an afterthought or there out of convenience. He makes you feel like you’re his priority in a way that seems so natural that it’s easy to forget how little time you’ve actually known him, if you don’t keep reminding yourself. Despite all the adrenaline and thrill he brings, it just feels easy with him, comfortable and reliable.

Stepping back into the kitchen, it feels as if the balloon of bliss was popped with only a snarl. “Who the fuck was that?”

“Mind your business. Don’t you have a ton of women to call back instead of bothering me?”

He sighs, exhausted, as if you’ve been the one who was pushing his limits. “Just answer the question.”

His tone, which seems genuine enough catches you off-guard, but it’s not enough to undermine the fact that you’re over his antics. “I don’t owe you shit.”

Instead of getting angry, he seems to try to figure you out, “You don’t. But you’ve never hid anything.”

Yeah, maybe. But you don’t reply. You don’t want to yell at him. You want to give into him even less. You’re over it. You want Satoru, even if it made you feel guilty.

“Don’t tell me this is about a guy.”, he scoffs a disbelieving laugh, almost as if the notion was too ridiculous to be true. But when you still don’t respond, he looks conflicted between repulsed and… offended? “You’re kidding. And i always thought you were too cold for some shit like that.”, he mutters, the insult sliding out because he’s confronted with something he doesn’t want to face. A defense you’d witnessed and experienced more times than you can count.

Too cold? Does that asshole even know you?? Too fucking cold???

No. You were loyal, unwaveringly so. Available too. To warm his bed and cool his temper like— and you were there.

Until it started to feel like standing in traffic, waiting to get hit.

You inhale sharply, you’re too tired to argue and you know it’s meaningless too. “Just drop it, Sukuna. I’m going home.”

Grabbing your things, you walk towards his front door, he doesn’t follow. You turn around, eyes softening the slightest bit. Even you don’t know why, you suppose you’ve known his hardened shell enough to be able to tell when something managed to get through. And somehow you also knew, that you not screaming at him, cut through him harder than any yell or hit ever could.

“Get some sleep. And don’t be reckless.”

Then you’re out of the door.

Almost instinctively, you call Satoru after driving a few metres away from Sukuna’s house. He picks up after the second ring, voice light and happy, “Heyy, gorgeous. That was quick. You missed me so much?”

“Yeah yeah…” you swallow, “um, are you home and have some time by chance?”

You try to keep your voice even but he picks up the tightnessin it and his own tone gets more serious, worrying.

“Yeah. Always for you.” he says quickly, “Are you okay? Do you need me to come pick you up from somewhere or something?”

“No, no, i’m in my car.” You hesitate, you didn’t only call him because you said you would, it was like an instinct, a subconscious gesture because you know he’d comfort you. “Do… do you think i could come over?” Biting your lip, you almost regret asking, feeling vulnerable and weak but his response is— as it always is, safe, assured, comforting and natural. “Of course. I just have a friend over right now but if you need space i can tell him to—“

You shake your head as if he can see it and interrupt him, “It’s fine. I don’t want you to send him away for me or anything, that’s really not necessary.”

A small pause and your phone vibrates, “Okay, if you’re sure. I sent you my address. See you soon, sweetheart.”

When you arrive, his garage is open and you see a tall man with silky, long, black hair tied into a half up half down, turning around to look at your car as you park it in Satoru’s driveway.

Satoru is already walking towards you as you step out of your car, his expression softens as soon as he sees you.

“Hey.” You murmur, looking at him, your hands fiddling with your keys.

He doesn’t hesitate, opening his arms for a hug with a soft, “Come here.”

And you let him embrace you, wrapping your arms around his waist, his firm, warm muscles surrounding you, inhaling his cologne.

“Bad day?”

You shrug in his hold, already having calmed down, “Something like that.”

Both of you pull away and look eachother into the eyes for a moment, until Satoru clears his throat and gestures to the man in his garage, “This is Suguru, he’s an old friend, the oldest, really.” Then he gestures to you, “And this is…” he hesitates before grinning, “the best and prettiest mechanic i know.”

The raven haired man’s lips curl into a sly, knowing smile, “Ahhh, so this is her.”

“Her?” You tilt your head questioningly at Satoru, but before he can respond, his friend clarifies, “Nothing. Just didn’t know who he kept running off to see or smile at his phone.”

Satoru chuckles and pushes you towards the door that connects his garage to his house, chuckling sheepishly, “Yeah yeah. Come in, i’ll make you— uh, whatever you want.”

The evening passes comfortably and the atmosphere is relaxed, harmonic. Despite Suguru being a stranger, conversation over dinner flows smoothly between you three. You didn’t feel excluded, despite them being best friends since elementary school and you… just being there, essentially. You found out that Suguru also races and that they’ve been into cars since forever, started racing in high school and gotten into tuning together.

You were surprised, “So you’ve known eachother for that long and were friends the entire time?”

“Unfortunately”, Suguru said with a small smirk.

Satoru threw a dish towel at him in response.

Eventually, Suguru said his goodbye, told you it was nice to meet you and teased Satoru about behaving around you.

Now, you’re laying in his bed, in his shirt, next to him in only loose sweats. He absentmindedly plays with your hair and pulls your head onto his chest, you drape your leg over his in response.

“You’re okay?” he murmurs for the nth time today, to which you nod against him.

A comfortable silence stretches over you. There’s so much you could say.

So much you probably should say.

But for now, it feels easier to just be with him. You’d like to think he feels the same, nothing indicates that he doesn’t and almost everything indicates that he does. You’re still cautious.

But you do want him to know at the same time, “I liked today.”

His hand keeps caressing your hair, more deliberate now, “Me too.”

You’re stirred awake by the slow, rhythmic brush of a warm chest behind you and soft breaths on your neck. You feel something hard press insistently against your ass. Blinking your eyes open, you shift a little under Satoru’s arm that’s hugging you close to him by your waist.

The movement earns a low groan from him, his arm pulling you closer and his hips twitching forwards just slightly, but enough for you to feel the entirety of his hard length.

“Morning, gorgeous.” He mumbles with his raspy, sleepy voice.

“You’re hard.”

He humms against your neck, keeping you close, “Mhm. Can’t help it. You’re so warm and soft.”

You try to turn around to face him but he’s holding you tighter, only making you rub your ass against his erection. “Stay.” He rolls his hips against your ass, burying his face in your neck, “Just a little.”

“Satoru…”, you mumble and press your ass against him harder, making him hiss, “Fuck, you feel so good… just stay like this…”

The friction of his hard cock grinding into you from behind makes you clench your thighs together and you whisper, “You’re unbelievable..”

“You make me like this.”

One of his hands slides under your shirt, warm against your skin, splaying out over your stomach. The other hand on your hip, keeping you close against him. He rolls his hips against you in slow, firm grinds, breath hitching against your neck.

The friction of it sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making you ache for more.

“Satoru, more…” Impatiently, you try to turn around in his hold again, “Let me on top.”

He stills his movements, letting out a groan against your neck. “Fuck, baby, you can’t just say that and expect me to stay sane.”

You manage to turn around, thighs sliding over his hips to straddle him, His hands immediately flying to your hips as he shifts his own, bucking up slightly to adjust.

“God, look at you.” His eyes are trained on you, filled with want. “Prettiest thing i’ve ever woken up to.”

And so is he, with his white hair sticking up, messy from sleep, cheeks flushed and looking at you, with his beautiful blue eyes like you’re the only girl in the world.

You grind your hips down over his, feeling the friction of his hard, clothes cock against your clit. Every slow roll of your hips, every impatient thrust of his, sends shivers down your spine and pleasure up your core. Soaking through your panties and his boxers as both of you keep moving against eachother.

It doesn’t take long for your dizzy, sleepy selves to come, simultaneously finishing in your underwear as you keep rolling your hips, more desperately now.

He pulls you down to his chest, “I don’t think i can wake up any other way from now on.”

If it was up to you, he wouldn’t have to.

You settle for kissing him sweetly and falling back into his arms instead.

A breeze of wind cools Satoru’s face as he rolls own the window of his car, eyes narrowing as he looks out to assess the other contestants, looking for someone who can challenge him, looking for Sukuna, with whom he had an ongoing rivalry and who never failed to put up a good race.

When the next car pulls up, his head turns towards the sound and he has to do a double take at the car in question.

It’s not just a car. It’s the car, a dark red Mazda rx-7.

The car that you drove when he first met you and raced him through Tokyo’s streets with.

But instead of you being inside your car, it’s a pink haired man with face tattoos and permanent scowl. Sukuna.

Something in his head clicks into place.

Leaning his elbow out of the window as he drives up next to him, he whistles, “Nice car. Where’d you get that tuned?”, His lips turn into a dark, smug smile, “Looks like whoever worked on it must really know what she’s doing. Must be a pretty amazing mechanic you got.”

Sukuna’s eyes immediately snap to him, jaw tightening. He hates that tone, all too cocky, all too knowing. Knowing about you. You know Satoru. Is he the reason for your distant behavior? Is he the one behind the calls and texts you’ve been hiding? His hand tightens on his steering wheel, forcing his eyes back onto the road. He can’t afford to snap before the race, it could start any minute now. “Watch your mouth and worry about yourself.”

He rolls up his window and focuses onto the guy giving the signal for the start of the race. But the tension hangs thick between them.

This rivalry isn’t just about who crosses the finish line first anymore.

Now it’s about you.

The start signal is given shortly after.

Engines roar and they’re off in the blink of an eye.

Tires screech, rubber burns against pavement.

The other contestants far behind, Sukuna and Satoru racing for first head on.

The world blurs past in streaks of light and sound. Every turn is precise, brutal. Every second is a battle. Sukuna gains on the straight. Satoru steals it back on the curve. They’re neck and neck, barely a breath between them.

And in the end, a millisecond decides.

The difference between fury and victory.

Satoru won. Sukuna came in second.

You didn’t even want to come here today, but Sukuna had insisted on stringing you along, in case he needs your skills.

But now he lost, came in second, barely missing first place and makes snarky side comments like you intended for this.

You don’t know why he is so pissed off at you like it was your fault he only came in second.

Snapping at you over something you didn’t care to listen to, again. you’ve seriously had enough of his attitude.

“Sukuna, what the fuck is your problem?”

His eyes snap to you and he walks closer, towering over you as his voice sharpens, “What’s my problem? Do you think i’m stupid? You’re really fucking around with that bastard behind my back like it’s nothing, like i—“

A familiar voice cuts through the tension.

“Back the fuck off of her!”

It’s Satoru. Striding over to you with determination and a fierce look of disgust in his eyes, but not directed at you.

That’s all the confirmation Sukuna needs. You really know that bastard. Had been meeting him behind his back— probably fucking him too. It’s not his business but you were apart of his crew. You tuned his cars, helped him strategize for years. All of that just to turn to his biggest fucking rival of all people? That’s a betrayal he’d never expected from you.

His glare snaps from Satoru to you, “You’re such a disloyal little whore, playing for both sides like you didn’t belong to me— my crew for all this time.” voice lowering, he adds, “for a moment, i thought something was genuinely going on with you, was worried too,” he laughs cruelly, leaning closer with a patronising tone, “but apparently it is about someone else. you really just can’t keep your legs closed like a—“

The seething tone makes your stomach turn, but before you can respond, can defend yourself, can explain to him how he treated you like shit for this to happen and you just got too tired to tolerate it for longer, that you never fucking belonged to anyone—

A sharp sound cuts through the air as Satoru’s fist collides with Sukuna’s jaw before he can even finish his sentence.

The force of it sends him stumbling backwards, Satoru now standing right next to you, eyes narrowed in disgust, “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

You’re frozen in place, staring at Satoru not hesitating to step in to defend you, until Sukuna charges at him, “You’re really going to fight for her? As if she’s worth it?”

His fist swings back at Satoru, who doesn’t flinch but meet his advances. “Oh, she’s worth far more than that, even you know that she is. Or else, why are you swinging back?”

A commotion starts to form from the remaining people who’d came to watch the race, now intrigued by the fight between the notorious rivals, surprisingly not about the race, but about you.

“You don’t know shit about her. She was mine—“

But you’ve seriously had enough, throwing your shoe, hitting Sukuna’s head with it, you snap, “I was never yours. I was never anyone’s. I never belonged to you nor your crew, not the scene. I stuck by you but i got too fucking tired of you treating me like shit. And i’m not sorry for choosing me first this time.”

You feel like you’re in some stupid tv-show with the people having formed a circle around you. The fight has died down and Satoru gently puts his hand om your lower back in concern for you.

Sukuna scoffs harshly and turns away, “You made your choice, picked a side. Just hope he’s worth it.”

Satoru leads you away from the people, who started to dissolve when the fight ended, some disappointed, some still curious. His voice is soft, nothing like the angry tone he had moments ago, “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t need anyone to fight for me, you know.” You nod and get in as he opens his car door for you, “but thank you for doing it anyways.”

He gets in on the other side, “Of course not. I just couldn’t listen to that bastard speaking to you that way.”

You nod, placing a hand on his thigh as he starts driving, asking you if you want to go with him to his place or if he should drive you to yours, to which you agree to go with him.

Unable to keep your eyes off of him, you assess the way he looks, hair ruffles and partly sticking to his forehead, light bruises forming on his jaw, some on his arm, and his knuckles split.

You can’t help but think the way he swung at Sukuna for disrespecting you, without a second thought, was incredibly hot and he looks so sexy like this too.

“You’re staring.”

“Can’t help it.” You shrug, caressing his thigh with your hand, “It’s unfair how hot you look right now.”

He chuckles, glancing over at you, “Yeah? Didn’t know you were into beat up men.”

Placing a small kiss on his cheek, you shift your hand upwards, “You didn’t get beat up. You did the punching. For me.”

He exhales sharply, glancing down at your hand that’s creeping dangerously close to his zipper. “Are you trying to make me crash the car?”

Unzipping his jeans slowly, you shake your head sweetly. “Just wanna show you my appreciation properly. You’re a great driver, you know, you’ll be fine.”

His breath hitches when you pull his cock out and lean down to lick a stripe up against it. You can feel it harden as you wrap one hand around him and swirl your tongue over his tip. Above you, he’s muttering curses under his breath, eyes focused on the road, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel.

You take his cock into your mouth, slowly taking him in, inch by inch and hear a low groan from him.

Bobbing your head up and down around his shaft, you can feel him twitch inside your mouth already. “Fuck, fuck, baby, you’re killing me.”

You’re swirling your tongue around him, feeling every vein against it.

When you hollow your cheeks and suck him off faster, you feel his car swerve to the side, stopping on a secluded area of the road. “Oh, fuck… C’mere.”

He pulls you up by your hair and crashes his lips against yours fervently. His eyes are lidded, voice thick with need, “Backseat?”

And you nod, climbing into the back of the car, he follows and pulls you right into his lap there.

You’re both breathing heavily when he pulls your panties to the side and lines himself up with you, letting you sink onto his length.

But you need him too much to go slow.

You bounce up and down on his thick shaft, to which he grabs your hips tighter and bucks his own up into yours, meeting your thrusts.

The windows of the car fog up as both of you moan and pant in pleasure. your hands tangled in his soft white hair, tugging on the strands as he kisses all over your neck, mumbling curses and praises under his breath, “Fuck, you’re so unreal. Making me feel so good, baby.”

You keep up the pace, your hips stuttering as he rubs your clit with his fingers, messy and fast. Your vision goes blurry and you feel him twitch inside of you as you clench around him, falling apart over him. He’s spilling inside of you, gripping your hips tightly and letting out a loud moan into your ear before stilling entirely.

A few minutes of sitting in his lap, basking in his comforting warmth pass and now you’re both gathering your clothes, so you can drive back to his home. While doing so, you notice something missing. “My shoe…”, you’d left it where you threw it at Sukuna.

Satoru laughs, full of genuine mirth and something akin to pride for you as he remembers the moment and ruffles your already messy hair. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He pulls you into him with an arm on your waist, his voice shifting to something more serious. “I want to. I’ll buy you anything else you need or want too. Because you’re the most amazing woman i’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

You blush, stomach fluttering with joy and he cups your face, “I know it may sound crazy but when i’m with you, everything just makes sense and feels right.”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re silent for a moment, hesitating slightly. But it just feels right— exactly like he said, here in his car under the nightly lit streets of Tokyo, and most importantly with him.

“What he said isn’t true, by the way.”

“Huh?”, his brows furrow in confusion for a second, before he nods, taking your hand in his reassuringly. “Oh, no of course not. I never thought you were any of these things—“

You squeeze his hand and shake your head, “I mean, about you, that you don’t know me. I feel seen with you. Really seen. Like you get me.”

There’s a pause and you steady your breath, mustering up the courage to confess, “I think i’m falling in love with you. Maybe i already have.”

His pupils are blown as he looks at you, his hand still cupping your cheek, gently stroking it. “I’m glad. Because i already have.”

You lean into his hand, looking at him with your lips slightly parted and he chuckles lightly.

“Don’t be surprised. How could i not love you?”

For the first time since you stopped racing, the growing hole that has been eating away at your heart has been fixed. Patched and filled with Satoru.

You aren’t numb to it anymore. You feel everything, you feel him.

And you allow yourself to.

art by _3aem & divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[nizhspo]

genre: haikyuu imagine, slight smut

pairing: kei tsukishima x fem!reader

summary: fast furious inspired but i never watched the movie.

you swore you were done with this shit.

racing.

engines snarling like wild things, streets lit with flickering LEDs and cigarette lighters, bets barked into thick night air.

you’d lived enough of it to know what came next. the high, the crash, the long silence afterward.

your dad died on the track.

not a metaphor. not some quiet decay of spirit.

a real crash. metal screaming. fuel in flames.

he flipped doing 110 trying to shave milliseconds, the whole town betting on him to win.

you found out later he’d bet everything he had. everything you had. your college fund. your mom’s savings. her wedding ring.

gone. all of it, before the second lap.

your mom didn’t cry when they told her. just shut the garage door and left it locked for a year.

then, just when she started to breathe again, you nearly died too.

a night run. stupid impulse. someone else’s car, someone else’s ego. a curve taken too fast, and then nothing but noise, nothing but pain.

you woke up with a fractured rib, road rash down your hip, and a jagged scar across your side that still tugs when you stretch.

your mom cried then. harder than at the funeral.

held your hand like it was the last thing she had left and said, “i can’t do this again.”

so you quit.

pulled the tarp over baby blue. tried to forget the way it felt to fly.

…

you were stocking vending machines at your part-time job when you met him.

it was late, past midnight, the parking lot humid, the hum of cicadas louder than the overhead lights.

you’d clocked out with a sour attitude and sticky palms, uniform shirt tied around your waist, walking toward your busted civic when you saw him.

tall. lean. sharp lines.

leaning against a yellow 350Z, aggressive and spotless, parked two slots down from your car.

not looking at you — looking at her.

baby blue.

your hood was popped, half her engine exposed. you’d checked the coolant before your shift and forgot to close it.

he didn’t even flinch as you approached, just tilted his head at the sight of you.

“didn’t think she’d still run.”

you squinted. “excuse me?”

he nodded at the chipped paint along the fender, the mismatched spoiler — all scars you remembered helping your dad patch.

“baby blue. i remember her. your dad used to open her up on third and ash, right?”

your jaw tensed. “she doesn’t race anymore.”

he looked back at her, thoughtful. “shame. waste of good blood.”

you frowned. “the hell does that mean?”

he finally looked at you.

and when his eyes hit yours, narrow, amber, sharp as sin, it was like being sized up and stripped bare at the same time.

“you were better than him,” he said, simple. “cleaner. smarter. faster.”

you felt your throat close up. “don’t talk about my dad.”

he held your gaze. didn’t blink. then: “race me.”

you laughed in his face. “fuck no.”

“i’ll pay for your tune-up. no strings. just race me.”

“i can’t afford a race.” you couldn’t afford to lose.

“don’t want your money,” he said. “i want the story.”

you stepped closer. “what’s your angle?”

his smirk was small and devastating.

“i want to see if the legend’s real.”

…

he dropped money on parts like he was buying gum.

coilovers, pads, an oil cooler. high-grade synthetic. a new clutch kit.

and then, to your surprise, he didn’t drop it off and vanish.

he came to your garage.

night after night. t-shirt rolled at the sleeves, hair pulled into a lazy tie, hands already dirty.

he worked quiet. efficient.

passed tools before you asked. understood baby blue’s rusted wiring like it was language.

“you really could’ve just paid someone,” you said once, yanking open baby blue’s rusted hood.

“where’s the fun in that?”

he knew your car like he built her himself.

and you hated how easy it was to fall into rhythm with him, passing tools, brushing hands, swapping stories without really talking about anything.

you also hated that it only took three nights before he had your legs around his waist.

you’d been underneath the chassis. tank top sticking to your back. grease on your stomach.

he leaned over to hand you a wrench and you’d caught a flash of his stomach under that black t-shirt, lean and pale and when you looked up — he was already watching you.

“you’re staring,” you said, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

he crouched down. voice low. “yeah?”

you didn’t mean to say it.

��wash your hands first.”

but he did.

and the next thing you knew, your back was hitting the garage wall, mouth open under his, his fingers under your waistband, grease still smudging his neck.

he didn’t ask. just kissed you like he already had. like it was tradition.

mouth hot, unyielding. tongue piercing clinking against your teeth.

you tasted heat, dust, black coffee.

and when your back hit the hood of baby blue, you felt the metal rattle against your spine.

you gasped.

you let him lift you up, thighs hooked around his hips. his fingers pressed into your waist, teeth at your neck, hips rolling hard between your legs.

you didn’t stop him.

didn’t want to.

and after that, every night, it was the same.

you fixed the car.

he fucked you against it.

quiet. messy. stretched across her hood, bent over her door.

sometimes your hands shook from the engine. sometimes from him.

sometimes both.

your mom stopped checking in on you guys in the garage.

you didn’t stop going.

…

the night of the race, everything felt loud.

louder than it should’ve.

streetlights lit up the city like an altar.

your hands trembled as you pulled your gloves on. tsukishima leaned against his yellow Z, arms crossed, lips quirked.

“hope you’re not gonna go easy on me,” you said, brushing your thumb along your gearshift.

his gaze was molten. “never.”

he stepped closer and your breath hitched.

“but when i win…” his eyes dipped, slow, raking down your body and back up again. “…you owe me.”

you licked your lips. “what exactly do you want?”

he smirked. “i got a couple ideas.”

…

he won.

barely.

you pull up second, tires smoking, chest rising like you ran the whole way.

he’s already out of the car, eyes blown wide, golden under the lights.

you climb out, breathless.

don’t say anything at first.

he walks toward you. stops close. “you almost had me.”

you stare at him.

at the sweat on his collarbone, the way his forearm flexes when he wipes his mouth.

“how much did you bet?”

“enough.”

you shift, grimacing. “i’ll pay you. i just… not all at once. might take a few—”

“y/n, i don’t want your money.”

you blink. “then what do you want?”

his gaze dips. you feel it before he says anything, the weight of it on your skin.

“i think you know.”

you smile. slow. feel your fingers twitch to grab his jacket.

“garage?” you offer, voice low.

he tilts his head. “backseat.”

your breath catches.

you grab his wrist and pull him into the dark, and when his hands hit your waist again, you’re already unzipping your hoodie.

baby blue purrs behind you.

she knows what’s up.

[evermoresversion]

MIRROR SEX, BRIAN O'CONNER.

TW/TAGS Established relationship, rough sex (kinda), mirror sex, porn without a plot, dirty talk, fluff ending. Lmk if I forgot something.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN | BRIAN'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

"Look at you, that's a pretty little slut." Brian hissed, pounding into you while you were in the doggy position. A mirror was positioned in front of the bed, letting you see your reflection and the expressions on Brian's handsome face.

The stretch he was doing inside you felt so good it made you roll your eyes into the back of your skull.

"Fuck, Brian, more, please, faster." You moaned loudly as you felt him grab your hair with one of his hands as he slammed his hips against yours making you see stars.

You bit your lip hard as you felt the pleasure build up more and more inside your tummy.

"Are you going to cum? Are you going to fucking cum? Yeah? Are you going to cum on my cock?" His voice came out raspy and breathy from the force with which he was pounding inside you while nothing but moans and gasps came out of your lips.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" You repeated like a prayer, feeling that tingling throughout your body as soon as you started to climb that climb.

"Cum, go ahead." He didn't have to say it twice as soon as you felt that knot in your stomach burst, making you let out a cry of pleasure.

"Fuck." You whimpered and felt Brian come inside you as his thrusts decreased in intensity and you felt him soften.

He sighed and you saw in the reflection of the mirror that he closed his eyes breathing heavily. When he opened them he met your eyes and smiled fondly at you.

"Come here." He reached for you, wrapping his arms around your torso and laying you both down. Laying face to face, he moved your hair away from your forehead and placed a kiss on the area. "I love you, angel."

"I love you even more." You whispered.

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2024.

[hanasnx]

NOTES: for @xstarkillerx

You can't conceptualize what's wrong, a combination of things weighing you down as you seek out comfort. BRIAN O'CONNER sits at his work-table, sketching concept designs for the tweaks he'd like Tej to make. He's not a very gifted artist, but he's got the general idea down, at least until you pad onto the scene. As quiet as you are, he's learned your tells, glancing at you after he speaks, "What's up, sweetheart?" he asks, a little curl to his lips at the sight of you rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes. You don't say anything, coming up to his side to fix your hands on his thigh, hoping to silently grab his attention while you wait for him to notice you. It takes him a second, but he does, gazing at you more deliberately this time. You exchange a look, and he adjusts in his seat to accommodate you while you invite yourself onto his lap.

You nestle in, tucking your head under his chin with a sigh. With an arm, he secures you, drawing you into him to get more comfortable himself, he inclines into you, curling his body around you as if you're his centerpiece. Gently, he bounces you on his leg, eyeing the tip of your nose. "S'the matter, bunny? Don't feel like talking?" You're unresponsive, you don't even look at him, and he strokes your back with his big hand. "I got it. Don't worry, I got it." Sweetly, he rubs his cheek on the top of your head, ending it with an affectionate kiss.

[cafecitoygorditas]

Han Lue-Tokyo Drift

Short Story

a/n: short story as in like 2 minutes short lmao

The garage buzzed with the low growl of engines and anticipation. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead. Han leaned against the hood of his ride, silently watching you make your way towards him through the crowd. Moving like you belonged there, and maybe you did—but you always came back to him.

You gonna race tonight?” You asked, stepping in close, tugging lightly at the hem of his shirt.

“Was thinking about it,” Han murmured, letting his fingers drift lazily down your arm, “but then you showed up, and I figured I’d already won.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Smooth, real smooth man.”

He chuckled, pulling you in by the waist. “Only for you, pretty girl.”

You leaned into him, nose brushing against his. “You’re lucky I like you soft like this.”

“I’m lucky you like me at all.”

A beat passed. Then, without a word, he held out his keys.

“I’m letting you drive,” he said, voice low and warm.

For Han, cars were sacred. And you? You were his peace in the chaos. Trusting you behind the wheel was more intimate than any kiss. It meant you had his heart

You took the keys slowly, fingers brushing his. “Guess that means I better win.”

Han smirked, brushing your lips against his. “Just come back to me in one piece.”

And as the engines roared to life, you slid into his driver’s seat like you belonged there. Because with Han, you always did.

[secret-agents-found-my-diary]

Title: Speeding into trouble

Pairing: Brian O’Conner x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Found Family

Summary: You and Brian are trying to have a normal day, but with this family, “normal” is out of the question—especially when Hobbs and Shaw get involved.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡

Sundays were supposed to be peaceful

Supposed to be.

You were sitting on the hood of Brian’s Skyline, sipping your iced coffee, watching as Dom and Letty argued over who was the better driver (again), Tej and Roman were making bets on a ridiculous drag race (again), and Brian? Well, Brian was currently losing his mind because his car keys had mysteriously vanished.

“I swear I left them in the ignition,” Brian muttered, patting his pockets for the fifth time.

You smirked. “You mean the same ignition that you never leave your keys in because, and I quote, ‘I’m not an idiot like Roman’?”

“Exactly,” Brian said, before pausing and narrowing his eyes. “Wait—was that an insult?”

Before you could answer, a deep chuckle rumbled from behind.

“Looking for these?”

Brian turned, and there stood Luke Hobbs, twirling the car keys on his finger like it was his car. The man was built like a tank and had the smirk of someone who enjoyed messing with people.

Brian sighed. “Hobbs, man. Really?”

“I had to make sure you were still sharp, O’Conner,” Hobbs replied. “Wouldn’t want you getting rusty.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because stealing his keys is a great way to train him.”

“I didn’t steal them,” Hobbs said, looking far too amused. “I borrowed them. For safekeeping.”

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are the law, man.”

“Exactly.” Hobbs tossed him the keys, which Brian caught effortlessly. “See? All good. No harm done.”

“Yet,” came a dry British voice.

Everyone turned to see Deckard Shaw leaning against his car, arms crossed, watching the scene with his usual look of disapproval.

“What’s the matter, Shaw?” Brian smirked. “Jealous you didn’t think of it first?”

Shaw rolled his eyes. “Unlike you lot, I have better things to do than play hide-and-seek with car keys.”

Roman, who had been stuffing his face with snacks, pointed at him. “Yeah, like losing to me in our last race.”

Shaw’s gaze turned cold. “You cheated.”

“I won,” Roman shot back. “Same thing.”

Hobbs looked between them. “You two wanna settle this now? I’ll referee.”

Tej groaned. “Oh God, not again.”

Meanwhile, Brian wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close as the inevitable chaos unfolded. “So much for a peaceful Sunday,” he murmured against your hair.

You chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder. “Like we ever get one.”

He sighed, but there was a smile on his lips. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

You glanced at your insane, dysfunctional, perfect family. Then back at Brian, the man who somehow kept you both grounded and swept up in the madness.

“Yeah,” you agreed, lacing your fingers with his. “Me neither.”

And as Roman and Shaw bickered, as Hobbs looked way too eager to referee a fistfight, and as Dom and Letty still argued about driving, you realized—

This was exactly the kind of Sunday you’d always have.

[saintsir4n]

ONE MORE

__

Brian moaned as he pulled out of his girlfriend, causing her back to arch and feet to twitch against the dashboard. Their position wasn’t comfortable at all. He was between her spread-out legs, his knees were to the car floor as she laid on the passenger seat that was pulled down.

It was luck that they hadn’t been caught by a security guard at the back of a Walmart parking lot.

His shirt was off, and Jean-shorts by his knees along with his boxers. It was a shock her dress shirt still clung to her body, given how much they both were panting.

“We need another condom,” Carson breathed out, dazed as her eyes fluttered open.

“I don’t have another one,” Brian managed to say, searching his pockets.

“Fuck.”

He turned back to her with a sheepish look, “Maybe we could just risk it.”

“Fuck no,” she tiredly pushed against his chest. “Boy, we’re not doing that.”

“I’m clean I swear,” he exclaimed, as if to convince her.

“We need protection.” Carson wouldn’t risk it. “You’re not gonna accidentally knock me up.”

“I’ll pull out,” he weakly tried, leaning closer to her.

“You won’t.”

“How are you so sure huh?” He asked cheekily.

“Because you’ve been moanin’ about how good I feel.” She taunted, running her nails down his chest, “You love it too much to pull out.”

“I do,” Brian admitted, licking his lips. “I do.”

“Then no more sex,” She said, worn out, “but you can give me head.”

“Oh I can, can I?” He teased.

“Yeah,” she bit down on her lip as he started kissing down her stomach before finding solace between her legs again. “Fuck.”

——

[morgandr]

Imagine:

In the late ‘80s, you and your boyfriend Paul are the “it couple” that everyone wants to be.

——————————————————————————-

(PHOTOS FOUND ON PINTEREST!)

(Paul Walker X Reader)

——————————————————————————-

(TAGS)

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Any chance I can request 33. , 63. For Cipher X reader. Injured Cipher goes to reader for help ?( Like in the clip , where she's injured ?) Or anything you want . Cipher only having a soft spot for reader anything you want ?

Happy Holidays, I’m Dying ~Soft!Cipher xFem Wife!Reader ~Holiday Bingo

Summary— Cipher shows up at Readers place after being attacked by Dante. It happens to be during the holidays, and you clean the woman up. This is Readers first time seeing her wife in a while… Anon Response— Hi hi anon!! Thank you for the request. I love the idea of a Soft!Cipher…! I hope you Enjoy! ♥️

Previous Day <—found here!

Holiday Bingo <—Here!!

Mommy… Master List

Request & Prompt-List

Prompt— Home for the Holidays

#33. “Don’t do that… let me see you”

#63. “I’m… I’m afraid I might hurt/break you…”

Warnings: tw: blood and injury, little angst, little fluff, passing out, pain, etc.

Enjoy (;

You heard a loud thud against your front door and then you heard the door bell ring.

You immediately sat up from your bed, quickly putting on your robe and grabbing your gun. You cautiously walked down the stairs of your home, then to the front door. You looked through the peep hole but didn’t see anyone. So you slowly opened the door.

There leaning against the door frame, barely propping herself up and covered in blood, was Cipher. Your breath got stuck in your throat and you immediately put your gun down to help the woman.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go…” Cipher grunted, some blood dribbling from her mouth as she spoke.

You nodded and quickly reached for the woman. Cipher’s body instinctively jolted and almost jumped back at your touch, but her mind calmed her body enough to remember that you were safe.

“I won’t hurt you, love. Please…” you gently pleaded.

Cipher let you take her into your arms, carrying her to the living room and onto one of your couches. She let out small groans and whimpers of pain as you two moved in tandem.

Cipher winced as she sat. Once she was sitting down, you got up to go grab some supplies. She looked around at your festive decorations around the place.

“Nice decorations…” she mumbled.

“Thanks. One sec, let me get some things…” you muttered, before leaving the room.

You came back with your first aid kit and you sat down in between Ciphers legs to tend to her. As you began to inspect the woman’s many injuries, she pulled away, not letting you see her many many deep cuts and jabs.

“Don’t do that… let me see you, love” you softly chided.

Cipher blushed lightly and nodded, letting you properly tend to her wounds.

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled before losing consciousness.

You started to panic now. She was losing blood fast, and now she was out like a light. You worked quickly to repair and stitch all her open wounds. After a while, and with a lot of bloody gauze around you, you wiped your forehead after having finished.

Cipher still lay there unconscious, and she would stay that way for a couple more hours. And your work wasn’t full proof, it was only a temporary solution.

When the blond did finally wake up, she was pretty intent on leaving, mumbling something about Toretto and his family.

You grabbed Cipher as she moved to the door, and she winced in pain.

“You can’t leave, you’re in no shape…”

Cipher turned to look at you. Her eyes were glossy and filled with a mixture of sadness and rage.

“I have too.”

“Why…?” You asked softly and vulnerably.

“I’m… I’m afraid I might hurt you… that they might break me by finding you…” she breathed out.

That was one of the most vulnerable things she’d ever said to you. In response, you kissed your wife lightly on the lips.

“Please be safe.”

“You know me, Baby… Always for you.” Cipher hummed, kissing you back with more depth and fervor.

She then pulled away and went to leave out the door, but not before saying one more thing,

“I love you, Baby.” She hummed.

“Hmmm, love you too” you hummed back.

~~~

Next Bingo Fic <—Here!!

Cipher Masterlist

Holiday Bingo 2023 Masterlist

Tag List: @storiesofsvu @aemilia19 @vexed-jade @lunala-rose23 @willowshadenox @sapphixwriter

[keehomania]

whichever idea wins, i’ll use it for tonight’s rafe fanfic period !

[jackiequick]

Operation Baby Rescue - Fast & Furious Fic 🏁 (Part 3)

If you haven’t read part 2 click here.

Pairing: Deckard Shaw x Val Toretto

—-

The first few days were a rather interesting story. After arriving at the safe house, the trio, plus Owen Shaw, got settled into a small plan. Lay low, take care of the baby and wait until the signal to come home. Simple as that.

Owen left to find a place to stay upstairs leaving the couple to their own devices downstairs. That same afternoon, Deckard didn’t hesitate to pick up Marcos Toretto and head over to give him a diaper change. Until he realized he never changed a bloody damn diaper in his life. He fed them, rocked them to sleep, played with them and even saved one! But never has he changed a diaper before.

“Uh love?” He yelled from the living room, holding down the squirmy baby, who became a bit fussy.

Val was in the kitchen looking for supplies to start cooking and yelled back, “Yeah? What happened?”

“Come here for a second.”

“Sure!”

She walked over laughing at the sight in front of her. Deckard Shaw, one of the worlds most best assists for combat and reliability, couldn’t change a freaking diaper. The man glared at her, not finding it hilarious on his part, sighing in defeat. He moved aside giving Val space as she took care of the situation.

Removing the diaper of the fussy baby, who just 8 minutes ago was blabbing nonsense, wasn’t easy. But she got it done, holding his tiny feet and closing the taps to the diaper showing Deckard how to do it as she went along. The man was a fast learner and understood the assignment for next time.

However he was impressed. This women was able to gently strap this little charmer down within 5 minutes flat. Deckard knew that she has a niece and nephew at home, due to them being Mia and Brian’s kids, but he never seen her in action before. As in take care of a child. He smiled brightly and chuckled.

“What?” She asked holding Marco in her lap now, smiling at him. Val knew he was thinking of something.

“Nothing.” He replied with a chuckle, taking a seat next to her.

“Deck.”

“You just amaze me. I’ve known you for a long time now, but this is new to me.”

“What is?”

“You as a aunt. Parental figure, i like it. A lot.”

“Aww..i like it too. I’m still surprised, Dom let us on this mission together.”

“You and me both, love. It’s alright, he trusts us with his kid.”

“So you two gonna kiss or what?” Said a voice standing in the doorway eating a banana. Owen had a cheeky smile on his face watching his brother and girlfriend on the couch with child in between them. It made him annoyed at the idea of his older brother in love but he liked it. It was good to see his brother as he deems as happy.

Deckard rolled his eyes and followed his younger brother into the kitchen, muttering how he might sent Owen to live somewhere else for the next few days instead. Val chuckled blowing raspberries onto Marcos’s chubby cheek, heading upstairs to put him down for a nap and later on a well needed nap.

——

The rest of the 24 hours have been alright. Yeah sure they had a fussy baby to deal with in the middle of the night and a schedule to try to keep up with. Other than that it was pretty okay. Owen moved onto stay in London for a couple of day leaving the couple along again to their own devices. It amazed each other how well of a caretaker role was brought to the table. With Val quick response to things like cries and Deckard’s problem solving skills to figure out what could done.

They had their bumps in the road like the other night where Marcos couldn’t get to sleep. They tried hushing his cries, he wasn’t hungry, and nor did he need his diaper changed. Hell, the pair even checked if there anything inside his crib that might make him feel uncomfortable. Checked for any weird smells in the room and etc. But nothing.

Val was hushing Marco who was in her arms, trying to start humming a lullaby. Deckard stood their for a moment until he removed his sweater leaving him a warm grey undershirt. He sat down on the rocking chair taking the baby from his girlfriend’s arm, having Marco curl up into the warmth of his body as he rubbed his back.

It took Valentina a moment for it to click in, but once it did, she was impressed. She heard stories of how he helped take care of his younger brother and babies on base, but never seen it in action. It made her heart flutter.

“Almost skin to skin contact?” Val whispered softly, as it came out more like a question.

Deck nodded whispering back, “He was probably cold or just need the warmth of a body, I’m guessing.”

“Nice thinking.”

“Eh, i try.”

The pair took turns that whole time, eventually bringing the event to a close putting the baby boy back in his crib. Thankfully he was asleep and didn’t even fussy the rest of the late night. They smiled, leading back to the bedroom satisfied as ever.

Two days later, Deckard woke up first, turning off the alarm clock and being greeted with the warm shine of the sunlight. Val was snuggled up close wearing his black shirt and a pair of brown shorts. He kissed her forehead as he always did, crawling out of bed to brush his teeth and get ready for the day.

Their resources were sorta limited to his usual rental stays but neither he did care or wish for anything else than. He had food, water, clothes, the basic essentials, WIFI, entertainment inside and outside the house, and of course his morning coffee. Deckard entered the shared bedroom again noticing that she was still asleep, he couldn’t blame her since she woke up more than once last night as well as the night before. He stepped into the well centered bedroom next to find the little man of the house half awake. You would think of all people in this house, he would be most tired.

Marcos was laying down on his back, playing with the moon and stars mobile making grabby hand at it. The little guys was wearing blue pjs and in his own little world, babbling softly about god knows what.

Deckard couldn’t help but smile as imagines of last night flew back in his eyes.

Remembering the sight of Val putting Marcos to bed at 7:30pm last night, humming a little song at the loopy baby who coo sleepily, resting his head on his auntie’s shoulder. The smile in her voice as she sang to the baby boy tend laying him down in the crib tucking him in, was simply lovely.

He snapped out of his thoughts at the squeals of the little charmer in front of him as he gently picked him up smiling.

“Hello governor, sleep well?” Ask Deck bouncing him gently in his arms with a soft smile as the baby babbled happily, “I bet you did.”

He stayed in that positions chatting with the baby boy rocking him back and forward, handing him his stuff animal that was sitting on the changing table. He just giggled and smiled softly at the man holding him with just pure joy.

“How about we play some music and have breakfast in a few minutes, hm?” He asked with a chuckle, “But first let’s wake up your auntie Val.”

Val was fast asleep, having turned the alarm off twice already. Just 5 minutes was all she needed. Her body was turned towards the window, not feeling the dent and shift in the bed as a small little cubby body crawled around eventually landed onto of her.

On top of her sat the 12 pound package she saved a while back, with his hand patting her chest and side gurgling and looking around, as his small hands grabbed the fabric of her shirt playing with it. Eventually after a few requests for a bit more of sleep, she peaked her eyes open to the cutest sight she ever seen.

Marcos was just chilling sat on top of his auntie with a care in the world, looking over at Deckard, who had a hand on the baby’s back for support, every once in a while. Pinch Valentina, she must be dreaming! She tickled lightly her nephew’s belly responding in some giggles in return from the baby.

“G’ morning..” She said softly, looking at her boys with a smile on her face. She couldn’t ask for more than to just frozen in this moment forever.

“Good morning.” He replies with a matching look on his face.

He leaned down, placing a darling kiss on her lips as she hooked her finger underneath his chin gently laying down two more kisses. It resulted in Deck to give her a few more. Val cooed at her nephew placing a kiss on his cheek as well. It was like at that moment Valentina Toretto knew one thing, she wants to spend a good life with Deckard Shaw doesn’t matter if they’re under the same roof or miles apart.

The three of them headed downstairs to the kitchen, making breakfast and staying in comfortable silence as they all ate. Eggs, toast, coffee and music playing in the background. The smell filled up the entire house. With the cooing and gurgling of Marcos making sure their was smiles the whole time.

Afterwards they stayed in the backyard, taking in the nice breeze and nice spring sun that came with such lovely warmth. Like a being snuggled up blanket freshly out of the dryer. Marco stayed on the grass playing with the toy cars that were brought, Val combed her slightly wet curls after washing it earlier and Deckard was checking emails while keeping on them.

Nothing could be more perfect, to say the least. It felt domestic. A nice break from the last few days.

Leaning against his chair, Deckard broke the comfortable silence and said, “What do you about us having one of our own?”

“Huh?” Asked Val with a smile taking it a moment for her to lock in what he said. She replied, “You want a kid?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s probably Baby Toretto charm and the safe house, but i can see us with one.”

“Just one? Why not two with a dog?”

He laughed putting his hands up in defense, “Dial it back there, love! I think one would be enough for us.”

“Alright, fair. Besides, I couldn’t a dog and two children to be honest.” She replied chuckling.

“So why did you suggest it?”

“I wanted to see your reaction, that’s why! In all seriousness, one day a child would be nice. I rather settle first, right?”

“Where you thinking? London? Brazil? Hawaii?”

“I don’t know yet. Just give it time, we’ll figure it out.”

Deckard grinned and leaned in into her face, “Good. Because that means I’ll have you all to myself until we please.”

“Yes sir.” Valentina remarked leaning in and chuckling.

They were soon stopped by Marcos crawling up to them with his hands in the air, wishing to be picked up from the grass with a pouty face and Val couldn’t say no. That was when Deckard got the text from Dom that it was safe to bring his kid home, he smiled hearing that.

—-

It took two days of packing, and a early morning just to get everything in the car. Deckard was carrying the last of stuff needed for the drive over to New York. They could’ve taken a plane but decided against it after the resist endeavor, a long drive felt rather safer.

Val was placing with Marco nearby the entrance of the safe house, waiting for her boyfriend to finish his duties. She would’ve help but she was do busy packing up lunch, pillows and water bottles. Finally she was given the green light to place Marcos in the car seat.

The baby was squirming around in his seat, babbling loudly and giggling about god knows what. As Val was trying to place his seat belt on, Marco threw his toy race car over his aunties head and out of the door.

Val walked over to pick it up jokingly saying, “Hey bubba, not all cars fly. But this one does, huh?”

She handed it back over to her nephew, who just playfully threw it out again with a grin and a giggle to match. It was a game to him. Definitely part of this family. Over a straight minute and a half of Marcos tossing the toy out of the car, Deckard walked over with a little solution to the problem. He handed the baby United Kingdom Flag Mini Boxing Gloves, in which the kid happily took with such glee.

She noticed what it was and playfully glare at her man, then said, “Dom is gonna kill you for that.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, love.” He replied breaking into a laugh and grinned, strapping the baby into the seat perfectly.

And off they went.

The drive wasn’t so bad. They all took time to eat, took breaks to stretch their legs, bathroom breaks and stopped at a motel for a while. Yeah sure everyone got tired and kinda fussy during the trip every once in a while. Especially with a baby on board, it can be tougher. It was a pretty long drive, but they were entertained as much as they could be.

———

It felt like forever, as they finally arrived to a hotel in New York City. The very next day, the trio packed up once again, only this time for the youngest Toretto, to be with his daddy and meet his stepmother, Letty.

The pair walked up the stairs slightly tired, opening the door to the rooftop. Deckard was carrying the baby carrier with the giggly little boy inside as Valentina carried the baby bag. Once they opened the front door to the rooftop, music played, bunches of teammates talking, barbecue smell hit their noses and a fresh bottles of beers being open.

Some stopped talking, looking at the door to see the pair with the baby walking over to Dom. Deckard and Dom talked quietly over the reason why for the mission. Val stood her with a smile, hearing them speak to one another.

“Can’t believe you went to see my mother.” Deckard said with a slight delay smile, once Dom grinned back.

She noticed it was her cue, walking over as Dom pulled his baby sister into a tight hug.

He smiled looking down at her and said, “Thank you.”

“I would’ve done either way.” She replied with a matching smile.

“Still, you took that risk.”

“How did you know I’ll be there at the right place and time?”

“Cause i know you. And i knew you would’ve guessed something was going on.”

“You got that right.”

“Was he a lot of trouble?”

“Nah he’s pretty alright.”

Dom smirked, “I was talking about him.” He added pointed over to Deckard for extra effect, “Was he trouble?”

“Oh my god-” She rolled her eyes laughing, resting her head on her big brothers chest, “He wasn’t any trouble. More of a surprise. Both boys were.”

As if on cue, Baby Toretto cooed brightly. Dom turned reaching down to pick up his son who smiled and giggled, his cubby cheeks lighting up his face at the sight of being hold by his daddy.

Val smiled.

She walked away giving the two a moment together at least, as she went to join Tej and Roman in a few laughs. They were trying to figure out Ramsey’s last name but she was the only one who knew it. Deckard went to speak with Mr. Nobody and Ramsey, sharing a drink. After a while, lunch was finally being served.

Everyone sat around the table, Val missed her boys so she sat beside Tej and Roman, sipping her second beer of the day, after she helped serve the BBQ to everyone’s plates of course. They were all chatting, waiting for Dom to take a seat, he was too busy admiring his beautiful baby boy with Letty who smiled at the cute pair.

Finally he walked over to the table holding the baby boy in his arms. Dom had a soft smile as he spoke, “You heard me say that you never turn your back on family, and i wanna thank you all for never turning your back on me.”

The crew looked around with returning soft smile, sending winks and nods to each other, before turning back to the man of the hour. Dom looked at his son saying, “You wanna meet them? All right.”

He looked back at the group this time and proudly said with a smile on his face, “Everyone, meet Brian.”

Everyone smiled, chuckling and clapping at the sweet introduction.

Some even had glimpses of tears in their eyes smiling brightly.

In return Baby Brian clapped his tiny hand, cooing with a gentle smile. Dom then sat down, with his son sitting on his lap, knowing his was turn to say grace. Everyone held hands with full on smiles hearing Dom’s words before digging into the food.

Thank you so much for reading this fic! What did you think? Did you like it? Let’s discuss.

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[nostalgicmania]

Can I say something?

I HATE reading smut, like why would you ruin a fic with so much fluff and than BOOM they dancing the horizontal tango

Like wtf

[evermoresversion]

LIAR, BRIAN O'CONNER.

A/N I just watched fast and furious 1 for the first time and oh my god i fell more in love with this beautiful human being.

PAIRING Brian O'Conner x Fem!Reader

TW/TAGS Angsty, betrayal but fluff at the end.

SUMMARY You find out that Brian was an undercover cop who was only investigating you and your family but he really fell for you.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN | BRIAN'S MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

The Torettos and Letty had met you at a race, Dom and Letty both liked your driving so you competed against her.

When you won and she was about to give you her car keys you told her to keep it, deciding that you were fine that way, so Dom decided he wanted you on his team.

You worked at the Toretto's store and coincidentally over time a blonde with blue eyes came daily for his tuna sandwich.

A horrible sandwich, by the way. Nobody liked the tuna there, Vince's words, not yours.

Mia realizing this, once Brian left after finishing the sandwich, smiled knowingly.

"He likes you." She decreed approaching you, you decided to play dumb like you didn't know what she was talking about.

"What? I don't think so." you denied turning over the magazine you were reading, she took it out of your hands.

"It's more than clear, I mean, have you seen yourself? You're super hot." she added and you denied smiling.

"Maybe it's another reason why he come to eat those horrible sandwiches." you winced at the thought of the first and last time you tried them.

"They're disgusting." both laughed agreeing. "But seriously, he likes you, at least he's attracted to you."

You sighed without saying anything, biting the inside of your cheek.

"Is Mia right?" you thought.

A few days had passed in which Brian had officially joined the team, when he went to the first barbecue that y'all organized every Sunday.

You both sent each other some meaningful looks. He couldn't stop looking at you, and you avoided his gaze out of embarrassment, but with a smile on your lips that let him know that you noticed his looks.

While the boys were watching a movie, you and Mia took care of the dishes even though you insisted that you could alone.

When Brian entered the kitchen Mia looked at you and nudged your shoulder covertly.

And you looked at her trying to tell her to calm down.

"May I help you with something?" He asked more than anything looking at you, and Mia took the opportunity to leave you both alone.

"Yes, actually I have a headache, good night y/n, good night Brian."

"Bye." you murmured going back to washing the dishes.

"Where I come from who cooks doesn't clean." He mentioned and came over to your side, drying the dishes after you washed them.

"I really enjoy doing it." you nodded without looking at him.

"You know what I don't enjoy?" he asked looking directly at you, you hummed to keep him talking. "that you never look me in the eye."

"What? That's not true." You denied, still without looking at him.

"Then do it, look at me." he ordered, and you put your shame aside to do it.

But it didn't last long because shame returned and you looked away, with a smile on your lips.

"See?! You can't do it." he mocked and when you finished washing the dishes you threw a rag in his face.

"It's just that you're too handsome." You said and quickly regretted it, where was your shame now?

"Handsome?" your face was literally a tomato. But that didn't stop him from walking up to you, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear, and looked at you in the most beautiful way you've ever been looked at in your life. "Then you are gorgeous."

His ocean blue eyes looked into yours and honestly you could drown and die happily.

He leaned towards your face, and a little brush of lips made you join your lips in a kiss that was slow at first, but it became more passionate when he put his hand on the back of your neck to hold you in place.

A few minutes later they separated with a smile on their lips and continued cleaning.

At the end of the day you ended up kissing him and with a pending date.

The whole team was in the Desert Race. It was night and Dom asked you to help them and the others to steal some trucks that had waited too long to do it.

"I feel like something is going to go wrong." you murmured biting your lip anxiously and Letty nodded agreeing with you.

"We shouldn't be doing this without Jesse."

Dom asked you to calm down and so y'all went to start the mission.

The hours passed and you reached the trucks. And it all went horribly wrong.

Vince ended up with a shotgun wound to the abdomen, his arm totally bruised, and Letty was thrown off the road, causing her car to crash.

When Brian and Mia arrived to help y'all, Letty was in Leon's car.

You were next to Vince, on the side of the road. Brian reached for his phone to call an ambulance or something.

But his words left you stunned.

He was a cop. And he hid that from you.

He lied to you.

He looked at you with his blue eyes, hoping you weren't angry or upset with him.

But what you felt was beyond that.

When the call ended you got up to get away from there.

And he followed you.

"y/n! wait."

"What for? So that you continue lying to me?" you faced him, looking into his eyes.

"I'm sorry." I was going to take your hand but you took it away denying.

"You're just a liar." You declared looking at him with tears in your eyes thinking that probably everything he had told you that he felt for you was also a lie.

And he answered you as if he was reading your thoughts.

"Everything I told you, my feelings for you are true." he confessed taking one of your cheeks. "Please believe me."

You denied at first, unable to look at him, but he raised your face by the chin, bringing his face closer to yours. He stopped long enough for you to pull away, but when you didn't, he kissed you.

Just like your first kiss.

And even if you wanted to avoid it you couldn't, you were totally and irrevocably in love with Brian O'Conner.

disclaimer ── evermoresversion © 2023.