#fastest planes

[multisnapshott]

The Fastest Planes in the World Today: A Journey Into Supersonic Excellence

In the high-stakes arena of aviation, speed represents both technological prowess and strategic dominance. From cutting-edge fighter jets to breakthrough experimental aircraft, the fastest planes in the world today continue to redefine our understanding of supersonic travel. This in-depth article explores the top contenders, the engineering behind these marvels, and the future of high-speed…

[dronescapesvideos]

North American X-15A-2 with full-scale ablative and external tanks installed, 1967 ➤VIDEO: https://youtu.be/W5dmLcttuWw ➤EXTREME AIRCRAFT VIDEOS: https://dronescapes.video/Extreme ➤X-PLANES PART 2: https://youtu.be/FiN7NFsh2oA ➤HD IMAGES: https://dronescapes.video/X15A2

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

⚠️Vote for whomever YOU DO NOT KNOW⚠️‼️

[severalowls]

They're sinking the SS United States as a reef... RIP one of the last remaining golden age ocean liners....

[sewi-li-suwi]

Fact: The Earth rotates very quickly. As a result, different parts of the Earth move at different speeds - the equator at about 1670km/h, and the poles at none.

Fact: Summon Object can be used to move an object from any location to a space near you.

Thought: By summoning an object from the equator, it will be moving West at a significant speed. Likewise, by summoning an object from a pole it will be moving East at a significant speed.

Fact: I live in England.

Fact: England has a longitude of roughly 54⁰. The radius of the Earth is roughly 6321km.

Thought: If my maths is right, England moves at roughly 1324km/h.

Fact: 1324km/h is a reasonable speed for a bullet.

Fact: 1324km/h is Faster than the speed of sound.

Conclusion: By casting Summon Object on rocks in The North Pole, you can create bullets from thin air.

[sadgrrly02]

landed a 737 in fs2004 this morning, so i'm feeling pretty good about this morning.

[theaceofarrows]

A Robin tradition

-

13 year old Jason: Dick, I need to borrow the Batmobile! Roy needs help with his English homework, Alfred is busy, and the Batmobile is the fastest car we have!

18 year old Dick: [is mad at Bruce and knows full well that this is going to piss him off] Say no more

[Dick gets the keys]

Dick: I'll hide the keys to the motorcycles and the plane. When Bruce tries to call you, just ignore him

Jason: [running to the car] Thanks, Dick! You're the best!

-

[Years later]

Tim: Jason please help me! I need the Batmobile to save Kon from Kryptonite Zombies!

Jason: 'Kay, try not to hit any pedestrians

Jason: [takes the Batmobile keys out of his pocket tosses them to Tim]

Tim: You just had them in your pocket...?

Jason: Zombies, Tim

Tim: Right! Thanks! [Runs away]

-

[Even more years later]

Damian: Drake! I require the Batmobile. Connor needs assist-

Tim: [already tossing Damian the keys] Cool, see ya later

Damian: [already running to the car] Thank you!

[spacenutspod]

Join us for SpaceTime Series 27 Episode 87, where we delve into the latest cosmic events and advancements in space exploration.

**NASA's Parker Solar Probe**: NASA's Parker Solar Probe has just completed its 20th close approach to the Sun, setting a new record as the fastest man-made object ever built. Achieving perihelion at a distance of 7.26 million kilometres from the Sun's surface, the probe travelled at an astonishing 635,266 kilometres per hour. This milestone marks the midpoint of the mission's 20th solar encounter, with more close approaches planned for the future.

- **China's Secretive Space Plane**: China's highly secretive reusable space plane has released another mysterious spacecraft into orbit. The experimental spacecraft, named Sheng Long or "Divine Dragon," has been in orbit for nearly 200 days on its third mission. Launched aboard a Long March 2F rocket, the space plane's activities remain shrouded in mystery, with speculation about its sub-satellite designed for proximity and recapture spy manoeuvres.

- **Seeing the Universe in Radio Waves**: Back in 2016, the Murchison Widefield Array telescope in Western Australia provided a glimpse of the universe as it would appear if human eyes could see radio waves. The GLEAM survey catalogued around 300,000 galaxies, revealing the remnants of distant star explosions, galaxy collisions, and the activities of supermassive black holes. This groundbreaking research offers invaluable insights into the universe's structure and the physics of distant galaxies.

00:00:00 " This is spacetime series 27, episode 87, for broadcast on 19 July 2024

00:00:46 " NASA's Parker solar probe just completed its 20th close approach to the sun

00:05:03 " Large scale radio surveys like Gleam are extremely valuable to scientists

00:10:44 " I have student looking for transient m objects in our survey

00:16:27 " A new study claims modern dingoes share very little ancestry with other breeds

00:18:11 " New research finds people who invest in cryptocurrency more likely to hold fringe views

Follow our cosmic conversations on X @stuartgary, Instagram, YouTube, and Facebook. Join us as we unravel the mysteries of the universe, one episode at a time.

Sponsor Offer: This episode is proudly supported by NordVPN. Secure your digital journey across the cosmos with a VPN service you can trust. Find your stellar security solution at https://www.bitesz.com/nordvpn

Listen to SpaceTime on your favourite podcast app including Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube Music, or wherever you get your podcasts.Support SpaceTime:

Become a supporter of SpaceTime: https://www.bitesz.com/show/spacetime/support/

www.bitesz.com

[danshistoryblog]

SR-71 BLACKBIRD

[dronescapesvideos]

Lockheed And Skunk Works. The History Of The Company That Gave Us The SR-71 Blackbird, the U-2 Dragonlady, and the F-22 Raptor ➤➤ VIDEO ➤➤ https://youtu.be/jb0VYO9NMFg

[dannyriccsystem]

hiii I LOVE YOUR SMAUS/TEXTS RAH THEYRE SO ADORABLE

Can I request a kimi antonelli x reader (potentially SMAU) where the reader and kimi are like childhood bsfs and classmates and he takes her to a f1 race for the first time (she's been to races before just not f1) if you don't want to do this it's OK 💖 take your time 🫶🏻🫶🏻

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

Summary: You, Kimi’s childhood friend, attend a race for the first time, and it’s exhilarating!

Warnings: Altered timeline (Kimi gets a podium in Suzuka)

Featuring: Childhood best friend!Kimi Antonelli x reader

This is such a cute idea!! I hope it’s to your liking ☺️🫶

your.username

liked by kimi.antonelli and others

your.username A post dedicated to my best friend, because apparently he’s getting points 🤔 Good job Kims!

Tagged kimi.antonelli

—

friend1 - “apparently” 😂

♥︎ by author

your.username - Been to lots of F2 races, never even looked at F1 👀 I’m just happy to support a friend

> kimi.antonelli - I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t say that.

♥︎ by author

kimi.antonelli - When are you gonna come watch me race? You’d love it!

♥︎ by author

your.username - And are you gonna pay for my ticket? 😉

> kimi.antonelli - Mercedes will pay!

♥︎ by author

> mercedesamgf1 - Since when 🤔

♥︎ by author

username1 - Anyone else think they’d be cute together?

username2 - As friends? Totally!

username3 - Yeah, but Y/N is focused on school and he’s focused on racing! As they should be

> username1 - Who knows 👀

mom.username - Oh look at that little guy on the second slide ☺️ I remember when he was that small, and now he’s racing in F1 😬

♥︎ by author

your.username - Yeah and now he’s no longer cute 😛

> kimi.antonelli - Well MY mom says I’ve only gotten cuter

♥︎ by author

Y/N’S MESSAGES ☆

Extremely nervous for her flight, Y/N continuously opened and closed her text messages. Her eyes darted around the crowded airport, bustling with both locals and foreigners traveling to and from Italy. She could easily tell apart tourists from people who lived there, evident by how confident they seemed in their travels. Those who were lost were clearly newcomers, while the ones that wandered easily were obvious citizens.

Nothing from Kimi yet. He was probably busy with practice and such, but she still couldn’t help her anxiety. What if plans changed last minute? She’d be flying without WiFi, so if he tried to contact her mid flight, she wouldn’t see. What if something happened on the plane? What if she’s a bad luck charm?

She took a deep breath. Calm yourself, Y/N. She had seen many a race when he was still with Formula Two, so this should be no difference. Besides, it was supposed to be fun, so she was determined to have fun. She opened the ticket on her phone and allowed the attendant to scan it before boarding the plane. She seated herself next to an older woman, who would engage in light chatter throughout the lengthy travel.

With her phone now on airplane mode, she pocketed and leaned back, ready for a long flight.

your.username

liked by georgerussell63 and others

your.username Quick stop in Osaka before Suzuka… 🖤🩵 Let’s go @/mercedesamgf1!!

���

mercedesamgf1 - Running on fuel, tyres, and a new good luck charm!

♥︎ by author

your.username - Let’s hope!

username4 - Y/N IN SUZUKA, THIS IS NOT A DRILL EVERYONE

username5 - WE DIDN’T PRACTICE FOR THIS

kimi.antonelli - Y/N’s first F1 race!

♥︎ by author

georgerussell63 - Excited to meet the girl Kimi is always yapping about 🙄

♥︎ by author

your.username - He can’t help it! I’m unbearably cool

mom.username - Safe travels, topolina! Good luck little Kimsy ☺️

♥︎ by author

your.username - Thank you mamma 🥰

> kimi.antonelli - Grazie mille, signorina! (Many thanks, miss!)

♥︎ by author

username5 - Momma L/N has my heart

♥︎ by author

F1

liked by kimi.antonelli and others

F1 BREAKING NEWS! Three new records set by the aspiring Kimi Antonelli. He officially holds the title of the youngest driver to set fastest lap, youngest podium winner, and youngest F1 race leader. It all happened here in Suzuka!

tagged kimi.antonelli, maxverstappen1

—

your.username - I’M SO PROUD OF MY BEST FRIEND!

♥︎ by author

username6 - Don’t EVEN. WE ALL SAW THAT KISS, GIRL.

username7 - ADDRESS THE KISS ‼️

> georgerussell63 - Yeah guys ADDRESS THE KISS

> your.username - GEORGE?

georgerussell63 - That’s my teammate, so by default I also have all these titles

kimi.antonelli - Wish I was the youngest winner, but P3 isn’t bad! 😂

♥︎ by author

username8 - Yeah, yeah. TALK ABOUT THE KISS

redbullracing - Not for long. Project Max 2.0 is coming 2026

♥︎ by author

mercedesamgf1 - Don’t even joke, lad

♥︎ by author

The race was nothing like anything Y/N had seen before. There was always the exhilaration that came with Formula Two, but it wasn’t on this level. The driving was so much more aggressive, the cars were so much faster, and the drama was a lot juicier. She watched everything with bated breath, her nervous gaze never leaving the track as she paced anxiously.

Everyone had greeted her with kindness, making her feel at home in the Mercedes garage. Even George Russell, a man whom she had been warned about, was surprisingly warm. It was a totally new experience, despite the fact a lot of faces were familiar.

Her closest friend didn’t win, but for a rookie, he made so many accomplishments. He was leading the race for an astonishing amount of time, breaking the record of youngest race leader. Ultimately, he landed at P3, putting him at the youngest podium winner as well. One more thing— Youngest driver to get the fastest lap, all in one place.

He hopped out of the car and lifted his helmet, taking the baclava off directly after. His messy curls stuck out in funny patterns, making her giggle as he ran towards her. His arms reached out over the barriers, a boyish grin on his devilishly handsome face. Y/N was expecting a bear hug, one that made all her joints crack and lifted her feet off the ground.

But no. Right as cameras clicked, paparazzi flooding him, his lips crashed against hers, and Y/N found herself melting against his warmth, despite the unwanted attention.

When he was pulled off and away to continue addressing the fans, she couldn’t help her dorky smile. Who cares if the entire world saw?

f1gossipofficial

18.1k likes

f1gossipofficial Breaking news! Kimi Antonelli is allegedly dating lifelong best friend, Y/N L/N, who he kissed after P3 in Suzuka! New Mercedes WAG?

tagged kimi.antonelli, your.username

—

kimi.antonelli - So disrespectful 🙄

♥︎ by author

your.username - “Oh man I missed a girl publicly and now everyone thinks we’re dating” no way!

♥︎ by author

> username9 - clocked

username10 - NO WAY

username11 - WHAT I DIDN’T SEE THE KISS?

username12 - CAN SOMEONE UPLOAD A CLIP?

> username9 - YEAH I HAVE IT ONE SEC

> username9 - JUST UPLOADED IT

username13 - I NEED TO SEE

georgerussell63 - 😂😂 Welcome to F1, Kimi

♥︎ by author

kimi.antonelli - I asked for the full experience and I am getting the full experience…

♥︎ by author

kimi.antonelli

liked by your.username and others

kimi.antonelli Got P3, broke three records, and got the girl!

tagged your.username

—

your.username - I love you ☺️🩵🖤

♥︎ by author

kimi.antonelli - I love you more ❤️‍🔥

georgerussell63 - Congrats, mate! Proud of you

♥︎ by author

georgerussell63 - FYI they forced me to take that first pic.

mercedesamgf1 - Happy to welcome a new lucky charm to the Mercedes fam!

♥︎ by author

Comments on this post have been limited.

[arieslost]

talk | op81

summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.

word count: 1,276

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.

that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.

before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.

the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.

it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.

that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.

“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.

“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.

it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.

“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.

“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”

“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.

“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.

“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”

“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.

“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”

“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.

you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.

which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.

“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”

well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.

“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”

“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”

“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.

“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.

“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”

“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”

you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.

“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.

the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”

“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”

“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”

“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.

“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.

“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”

“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”

you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @lightsoutletsgo

[wileys-russo]

Pollito fic inspo:

The youngsters have been behaving heavenly on and off the pitch, and the captains decide to bring them to an amusement park.

Alexia is secretly scared of roller coasters, Pollito is the only one knowing it and gets Alexia on one by lying slightly. Once the ride is over, Alexia and Pollito give their own funny entertaining show😂

part of the pollito universe flying high II a.putellas, barça femeni

"all of you need to stay in our sights!" irene yelled in warning as you all scanned your tickets and stumbled inside, hands linked and ready to race off but instead shoulders dropped and groans sounded at her command.

"buddy system chicas, vamos!" alexia chimed in with a snap of her fingers, everyone pairing off into smaller groups where nobody was without a captain or more senior member of the team to watch out of them.

you all knew the buddy system was just another word for the babysitting system.

somehow in the chaos of everyone grouping off you of course wound up with both alexia and mapi. the two whom seemed to be top of the avoid list as the others all wasted no time scrambling away, ignoring your pleading glances to take you with them.

alexia's hand fell to your shoulder before you could with a knowing smile, vicky and jana at least staying loyal and sticking by your side though you didn't miss the looks of longing on their face as everyone else got off much easier.

"why isn't mine working!" mapi scowled, pressing her ticket over and over on the scanner as the light for the gate remained red and you tapped your foot impatiently, alexia rolling her eyes and trying to call over an attendant.

those present all making agreements to meet up in the food precinct in the middle of the park by 12, you watched on with a scowl as the other groups took off, crossing your arms and slumping against jana.

"tenga paciencia pollito." the older girl chuckled, patting your cheek and draping her arms over both you and vicky who was also already looking bored at the delay.

"how much trouble do you think we would be in if we just...ran for it?" you questioned quietly, quirking an eyebrow at the pair beside you who also faltered, clearly thinking it over.

"i am already doing extra laps for falling asleep in media." jana grumbled with a huff making you snicker at the memory. "so is pollito for not doing her schoolwork and using her practice exam to make a paper plane." vicky chimed in as you shrugged.

"well...you were saying you wanted to work on your stamina amiga, no? extra laps would help!" you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at the only girl without a prior punishment who sighed but with one nod you knew she was on board.

"mapi is fast, she could catch us." vicky mused, the three of you watching on as the two older girls began to bicker in rapid spanish as mapi's ticket continued to decline, alexia about mapi's lack of patience and mapi about alexia's lack of haste.

"i am faster." you boasted confidently with a grin making your best friend roll her eyes and push you playfully.

"no no no, mi chicas we do not have to be the fastest. just fast enough for them not to see which ride we get on first, then they will struggle to find us if we are up in the air!" jana pointed out and with her words you all shared a look, decision now made.

"capi is checking, smile." you mumbled under your breath, all three of you sending alexia an enthusiastic wave as she gave you all an odd look where she glanced over her shoulder to check you were still there.

"ahora...ejecuta!" jana announced and as the three of you sprinted off the gate flashed green, mapi all but jumping over the turnstile anyway and racing away after you, alexia hot on her heels.

"aquí!" jana grabbed both you and vicky, tugging you around a corner and ducking behind a popcorn vender who gave you all an odd look, your smiles growing as alexia and mapi sure enough sprinted past still bickering with one another.

"el éxito! now, which ride first?"

~

"chica i think my head is going to fall off my body. why did you spin it so much! idiota." vicky groaned as you wrapped an arm around her with a laugh, the two of you having just spun yourselves ill on the flying saucers.

jana off to the side on the phone to jill had sat this one out, and looking at the way vickys face had started to go a little green as you both arrived in front of her, she was glad that she had.

but with you too busy giggling at the way vicky was swaying side to side as if she was seasick, and jana too preoccupied with her lovesick puppy dog gaze off into the distance talking to her girlfriend, all three of you missed the two figures marching their way over to you.

your laugh died in your mouth feeling the hands land on your shoulders, a cautious glance seeing the tattooed fingers clutching at your shirt having you wince knowing exactly who it was.

there was a similar look on vickys face as alexia grabbed her, jana's eyes widening as she tried to sneak away but one fierce look from your blonde captain she was mumbling an apology and hanging up on her girlfriend, gaze falling to the floor.

"vicky is very sick ale. we were just coming to find you!" you immediately turned on the charm, glancing at vicky who slumped into the older girl with an over dramatic groan, jana rolling her eyes which was luckily missed by the girl.

"oh you were? after you ran away from us in the first place pollito eh?" mapi scoffed and you winced again as her grip on your shoulders tightened, feet rooted to the floor as a few passers by gave your little group an odd look and both older spaniards sent them polite smiles.

"we did not run away we just-" you paused, carefully calculating your next words but jana chimed in before you could formulate them. "we were just so excited we got a head start! lo siento we thought you were right behind us, but you know pollito has never been to an amusement park." jana pouted, grabbing your hand in hers and yanking you from mapi's grip.

"look at this face ale, how do you say no to the pequena?" jana sighed, smooshing your cheeks in her hand with a shake of her head as you gave the captain your best puppy dog eyes, and coupled with vickys oscar winning performance about being so ill, it seemed to wear away the anger which was previously bubbling in the older girls chest.

"vale. it is nearly twelve, we need to meet the others." alexia sighed, pulling vicky into her side and starting to walk off as you subtly bumped jana's fist against yours, mapi watching in disbelief at how easily you'd gotten away with it.

"pollito you-" "lunch on me?" you cut the older girl off with a charming smile, jana letting go of you and skipping off to catch up with vicky and alexia. "tienes demasiada suerte." mapi rolled her eyes, quickly pulling you into a headlock and starting to walk before you shoved her off.

but within a millisecond mapi was grunting as you launched yourself onto her back, arms wrapping around her neck as despite her protests for you to get off she grabbed her legs in hand and hoisted you up.

"i lovee youu maríaaa." you pinched her cheeks, quickly pulling your fingers out of reach as her teeth snapped at you and she huffed, the two of you falling into regular conversation as you were victoriously piggybacked all the way to the food precinct.

however unfortunately for mapi as you'd both selected your food and lined up to pay, you realised you didn't have your wallet.

“oh and you do not have your card on your phone?" mapi asked sceptically but you both knew it was rhetorical as you gave her an innocent smile and with a roll of her eyes both your food was paid for.

despite the running away earlier, which you were sure you had gotten away with due to your trio's quick thinking and vicky’s beautiful acting which you actually had started to think was a little more real as her face was still green, lunch was a pleasant affair with everyone catching up and organizing a few larger groups who hadn't been on particular rides yet.

"ale, are you not coming?" you asked with a frown as after lunch you all once again broke off and scattered, having made plans to meet at the exit around 3.

"capi doesn't do scary rides!" marta teased, pinching alexia's cheek who shot her a scowl before the older girl took off after cata who snatched her bottle of water and raced away.

"this one isn't scary. look, there is kids going on!" you pointed out as alexia still looked hesitant, the rest of your little group already in line for the rollercoaster that actually was rather scary, but you didn't plan to tell the blonde that.

no no, pointing out the children who were coming off of the much smaller coaster whose exit so happened to look like this one, was a foolproof way to coax her into line. and sure enough with a few puppy dog eyes and pleading, the older girl cracked.

you rammed your elbow into jana who looked confused, also knowing alexia hated rollercoasters, a firm look and she was turning back to her conversation with ona, leaving you to distract alexia for the remainder of the line up.

which given mapi on a bit of a sugar high would not stop yapping away at the catalan, and with ingrid and frido having steered well clear of the amusement park excursion all together, it left alexia with no choice but to placate her chattering.

you could have kissed mapi on the forehead at that, because alexia was far too busy trying to follow the train of conversation which kept jumping from station to station, to notice the ride you were all headed for was anything but tame.

but then it was too late and you were all buckled in, and alexia was starting to think that maybe this was not the best idea.

"ale." you poked her, both of you sat side by side with aitana on your left, and there was an ever so slight pang of guilt as you noticed the color had begun to drain from her face.

but this was for her own good, you were going to help the girl get over her fear, and what better way than some exposure therapy.

"this is to help you amiga." you patted her knee, smiling appreciatively at the attendant who pushed the safety restraint down a little more on you until it locked in properly.

"que? nena how-" but her words died in her mouth as she watched the group who'd just taken off in front of you do a loop the loop a few hundred metres ahead, their own ride almost over and yours due to soon begin.

you couldn't repeat the words which left alexia's mouth in that moment as the ride started to count down, aitana left with her jaw open at the filthy language and the begging to let her get off the ride.

your own smile was wiped off as the older girl with a face like thunder managed to grab a handful of your shirt, half choking you and pulling your face as close to hers as she could while restrained by the safety belt, her hazel eyes were ablaze with a fury unlike you'd seen in months.

"this is a promise pequena. if i survive this i am going to run you until you collapse, then i am going to kill you, and then bring you back to life, and then i will ground you until you die again!" and then the countdown reached 0, and off you all went.

"te amo mucho capi!"

[shelovesosa]

DRIFT! DRIFT! DRIFT!

PAIRING: RACER!SUKUNA x F!READER

moodboard

Contains: MDNI, fast paced (SORRY), smut, p in v, car sex, fingering, unprotected sex, angst if you squint, gang mention, based in the 2000s, smoking, illegal street racing, life.

SUMMARY!! Set against the neon-soaked streets of early 2000s Tokyo,What starts as summer fun spirals into an adrenaline-fueled underworld of illegal racing, gang politics, late-night parties, smoky garages, and rooftop kisses that taste like danger. You're the girl who was never supposed to get involved. He's the guy who never lets anyone stay. But when the past catches up and a rival gang threatens everything, Sukuna puts it all on the line—not just his car, but his heart. Because falling in love at 120 mph doesn’t leave room for brakes.

Cw: 10.1K

A/n: Race you to the end!!

The streets never slept in Shibuya.

Especially not in the summer of 2003.

You landed at Haneda just before midnight. The plane doors hissed open, and the warm, sticky breath of the city hit you like a second skin. It was thick with humidity, soaked in neon light, and thrumming with bass you couldn’t hear yet—but you could feel it. Beneath the traffic and airport announcements, the city whispered something wild.

You weren’t here for sightseeing. You weren’t here for school, either—no matter what your acceptance letter to the local university said. Tokyo was supposed to be your fresh start. But you knew the truth. You came for the speed.

Your cousin picked you up in a beat-up Nissan Silvia with cracked leather seats and a cassette player jammed halfway into a mixtape. He barely said hello before shoving the car into gear and pulling out of the terminal parking lot like he was being chased.

"You hungry?" he asked over the roar of the engine.

"Starving," you replied.

He lit a cigarette, passed it to you instead. "Good. We're hitting the track first."

"Track?"

His smirk curved slowly. "Not the kind you’re thinking. Welcome to Tokyo."

The underground scene wasn’t found on any map. It lived in abandoned shopping malls, below overpasses, and in the narrow alleys of Shibuya, lit only by stolen power and blue halogen glow. The first place he took you was an underground car meet hidden beneath a highway, surrounded by rusted scaffolding and illegal food stalls.

People were everywhere—leaning against hoods, trading money, sharing smokes. Girls in short skirts and oversized sunglasses. Guys with dragon tattoos peeking out from under sleeveless shirts. And then there were the cars. Neon-lit. Glossy. Growling like predators waiting to be unleashed.

You felt your stomach twist, not with fear—but anticipation. You belonged here.

Your cousin nudged you. “See that red RX-7 over there? Don’t even look at the guy who drives it.”

You looked. And that’s when you saw him.

He leaned against the side of the car like he owned gravity. Sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing ink—black tribal lines and flaming skulls, a snake curling over one bicep. His grin was lazy, like he already knew he’d win whatever bet you tried to make with the night. A cigarette dangled between his fingers. His eyes, when they caught yours, gleamed—red.

It was a trick of the lights, you told yourself. But something about him didn’t feel human.

“That’s Sukuna Ryomen,” your cousin muttered like a warning. “Fastest driver out here. Screws anything with legs. Might be part of a gang. Some say he crashed once and came back from the dead.”

You smirked. “And what, you want me to be scared?”

“I want you to be smart.” Too late.

Later that night, after a street race that nearly ended in a three-car pile-up on a downtown ramp, you slipped away from the crowd, headed toward the edge of the lot. The city lights above glimmered like drowned stars.

“You lost?”

The voice curled against your skin like smoke. You turned—and there he was, standing beside you, closer than you’d realized.

Sukuna.

Up close, he was worse. Arrogant. Smirking like he could see right through you. His presence was magnetic, like standing too close to something that could short-circuit your brain.

“Just watching,” you replied.

“You look like trouble.”

“You look like you give lectures on it.”

That made him laugh—deep and lazy. “You’re funny. You ride?”

“Sometimes.”

He held open his passenger door. “Come with me.”

You hesitated. It was stupid. You barely knew his name. But the city behind you was burning hot with risk, and your blood was matching its rhythm. You got in.

By the time the RX-7 screamed out of the lot and onto the empty highway, you were laughing—terrified and alive all at once. Sukuna didn’t talk much while he drove, and that made it worse. The world turned into a blur of color and speed. Streetlights flashing by like strobes. The smell of burned rubber and sea air in your lungs.

He didn’t just race. He danced with the car.

And you danced with danger. When he finally drifted into an alley and killed the engine, you realized your legs were shaking.

You looked at him. He looked at you. And neither of you said a word.

The night didn’t end there. You ended up back under the overpass with the others, sitting on the hood of his car, your knees brushing his as he rolled another cigarette.

“You staying in Tokyo long?” he asked, voice low.

“Long enough to cause some problems.”

He grinned. “Good.”

He didn’t kiss you that night. He didn’t need to. But when he flicked his lighter, shadows moved across his face like devils trying to crawl out of his skin. And you knew—this wasn’t just a boy. He was a storm. And you were about to drive straight into it.

It started with a call at 1:27 a.m.

Your phone buzzed across the table at the tiny apartment you’d been crashing in, where the ceiling fan ticked like it was about to fall and the walls reeked of someone else’s old ramen. You had been halfway through wiping off eyeliner, still in your low rise jeans and a shirt that wasn’t really yours, when his name lit up the screen.

Sukuna.

No emoji. No text. Just a missed call. And then another.

You answered the third.

“Get dressed,” his voice rasped on the other line. “I’m outside.”

You found him leaning against the RX-7 again, smoking like always, city lights painting his red car purple. He didn’t say much, just looked you over with those eyes and nodded for you to get in. No music. No explanation. He just drove.

Through tunnels lit by endless amber. Over bridges stretched like veins across Tokyo Bay. Into the quiet hillsides on the edges of the city, where the road narrowed and the trees swallowed the light.

You didn’t ask where you were going. With him, the answer never mattered. Only the motion.

He broke the silence only once.

“You trust me?”

You glanced at him from the passenger seat. His profile was sharp in the moonlight, jaw tight, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift like it was part of his body.

“I don’t know you,” you said.

He smiled without looking at you. “But you still got in.”

Then he floored it. You gasped as the car surged forward, tires shrieking as he took a hairpin turn at full speed, drifting into the curve with the ease of someone who didn’t care if he lived through the night. You gripped the door instinctively, and that made him laugh—a low, dark sound that buzzed in your spine.

“Relax,” he said, glancing at you. “She listens to me.”

The car responded like a lover—smooth, violent, loyal. As the city disappeared behind you, something unspoken sparked between the two of you. Not words. Not flirtation. A dare. The kind of electricity that builds just before a kiss. Or a crash.

When he finally pulled into an empty overlook on the mountain, Tokyo glittered below like spilled diamonds. Sukuna cut the engine. Silence swallowed the space between you.

Then he turned.

“You ever fuck in a car?”

You raised your brow, unimpressed. “That’s your line?”

He laughed again—lazy, unapologetic. “No. Just a question.”

You met his gaze. The heat in your chest was no longer from the adrenaline. You were still pulsing from the way he drove. From the way he looked at you like he’d already imagined your body in his hands. You didn’t answer.

Instead, you climbed into his lap.

Sukuna's hands slid slowly up your thighs, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He took his time, savoring the feel of your soft skin, the way your muscles twitched and jumped under his touch. His mouth followed the path of his hands, his lips brushing hot and teasing across your jaw, up to your ear. He nipped at the sensitive lobe, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh before his tongue soothed the sting.

Sukuna's grip on your hips was tight, possessive, his fingers digging into the soft curves as he held you in place. You could feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, the hard planes of his chest and abdomen molding to the soft swells of your breasts and belly. Your back arched into the low ceiling of the RX-7, the cramped space only adding to the electric charge crackling between your bodies.

Sukuna's breath was fire against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin as he murmured, "You like this, huh?" His voice was a low, sinful rumble, dripping with a dark promise of pleasure and danger.

You hated how much you did. Hated the way your body responded to his touch, to the reckless, carefree aura that clung to him like a second skin. But you couldn't deny the thrill that raced through your veins, the way your heart pounded and your core clenched at his words, at the feel of his hard length pressing insistently against your hip.

The gearshift dug into your knee as Sukuna shifted gears, the car lurching forward with a growl of the engine. Your head hit the window more than once, the glass cold and hard against your scalp, a stark contrast to the heat of Sukuna's body pressed against yours. But you didn't care. You welcomed the slight pain, the reminder that this was real, that you were truly here, pressed against danger in the most delicious way possible.

Your hands tangled in Sukuna's short, spiky hair, fingers gripping the soft locks as you pulled his mouth closer to yours. You crashed your lips against his in a desperate, hungry kiss, pouring all of your pent-up desire and frustration into the embrace. Sukuna groaned into your mouth, his tongue delving past your lips to stroke and tease, to claim you with a fierce, almost violent intensity.

Sukuna's hands slid slowly up your thighs, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He took his time, savoring the feel of your soft skin, the way your muscles twitched and jumped under his touch. His mouth followed the path of his hands, his lips brushing hot and teasing across your jaw, up to your ear. He nipped at the sensitive lobe, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh before his tongue soothed the sting.

Sukuna's grip on your hips was tight, possessive, his fingers digging into the soft curves as he held you in place. You could feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, the hard planes of his chest and abdomen molding to the soft swells of your breasts and belly. Your back arched into the low ceiling of the RX-7, the cramped space only adding to the electric charge crackling between your bodies.

Sukuna's fingers found the edge of your waistband, pushing and tugging until your shirt bunched at your ribs. Cool air hit your exposed skin, making your nipples tighten and strain against the thin fabric of your bra. His hands slid around to cup the soft mounds, his thumbs brushing over the stiff peaks, teasing them into even harder points. You gasped at the sensation, your head falling back against Sukuna's shoulder as he rolled and plucked at your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Sukuna's mouth trailed hot and open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his tongue tracing the delicate lines of your collarbones. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, leaving blooming marks in his wake, as his hands slid down to the button of your jeans. With deft fingers, he popped the button open and dragged the zipper down, the denim parting to reveal the lacy edge of your panties.

Sukuna's breath hitched as he caught sight of the damp spot darkening the fabric, evidence of your growing arousal. "Already so wet for me," he murmured, his voice a low, approving rumble. His fingers pressed against the damp lace, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clothed sex. You whimpered and arched into his touch, your hips rolling instinctively, seeking more of that delicious friction.

Sukuna's fingers slipped beneath the lace, brushing against your bare, slick folds. He groaned at the feel of your wetness, his cock twitching and throbbing in the confines of his jeans. “Already so wet For me.”

His thumb found your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, rapid circles. Sparks of pleasure shot through you, making your hips jerk and buck against his hand, desperate for more of that intense sensation. Sukuna's fingers curled inside you, stroking and teasing, as his thumb continued its relentless assault on your clit.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" Sukuna purred, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "You like feeling my fingers buried deep in this greedy little cunt, playing with this pretty little clit until you're dripping all over my hand?"

His words sent a thrill through you, your core clenching and pulsing around his fingers. The car filled with the obscene sound of your juices dripping onto the leather seat, the slick schlick of Sukuna's fingers pumping in and out of your soaked sex. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps as he fingered you with a single-minded intensity, determined to make you fall apart on his hand.

Sukuna's fingers pumped faster, plunging deeper, as his thumb rubbed harder and faster over your throbbing clit. The dual stimulation had your toes curling in your shoes and your nails digging into the leather seat, desperate for something to hold onto as the pleasure mounted. You could feel your climax building, your walls starting to flutter and tighten around Sukuna's fingers as he worked you towards the edge with expert skill.

"Sukuna," you gasped, your voice high and breathy, nearly a moan. "I'm...I'm going to..." But before you could finish, Sukuna pulled his fingers out of your dripping sex, leaving you empty and aching, teetering on the brink of your release.

"No," he growled, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "Not yet, baby. Not until I say so." He gripped your hips,

and crashed his lips against yours in a searing, demanding kiss. He swallowed your whimpers and moans, his tongue plundering your mouth, stroking and teasing, as his hands slid down to the button of his jeans. With a swift tug, he popped the button open and shoved the denim down his muscular thighs, freeing his thick, hard cock.

Sukuna's erection jutted out, flushed a deep, angry red and leaking precum from the swollen head. The sight of it made your mouth water and your sex clench with anticipation. He gripped himself in one large hand, stroking the thick length slowly, teasingly, as he pressed the dripping tip against your entrance. "Beg for it," Sukuna demanded.

"Please, Sukuna," you whimpered against his lips, your voice high and desperate with need. "Please, I need your cock. I need you to fill me, to stretch me, to ruin me for anyone else. I want to feel you throbbing deep inside me, pumping me full of your hot, thick cum until it's leaking out of me."

Sukuna groaned, his cock twitching against your sex as your words washed over him. "That's my good little slut," he purred, his voice a low, approving rumble. "You want this big dick buried inside this tight little cunt, don't you? Want me to fuck this greedy hole until you can't walk, until the only thing you can do is scream my name?"

He notched himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock kissing your swollen folds, slick with your arousal. Your walls clenched and fluttered at the promise of being filled, of being stretched and claimed by Sukuna's impressive length. You nodded frantically, too far gone in your desire to form a coherent response. Sukuna took that as the permission he needed.

With one brutal, powerful thrust, Sukuna buried himself inside you, his thick cock splitting you open and stretching you wide around his invading length. Your back arched, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out at the sudden intrusion, the feeling of being so utterly and completely filled. Sukuna groaned, his hips pressing flush against yours as he savored the feel of your velvet heat enveloping him like a glove. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure. "This cunt was made for my dick."

Sukuna started to move, setting a hard, driving rhythm that had the car rocking and shaking around you. He gripped your hips bruisingly tight, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he slammed into you again and again, the thick head of his cock kissing your cervix with each deep, powerful thrust. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and your wanton moans filled the cramped space as Sukuna fucked into you with wild abandon.

"Yes, yes, yes!" you chanted, your voice rising in pitch with each thrust, each surge of pleasure that ripped through you

Sukuna snarled, his eyes flashing with a feral intensity as he doubled his efforts, pounding into you with a force that had the car bouncing and shaking around you, the windows fogging up as the air grew thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat

Sukuna's breath came in harsh, ragged gasps, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. "Fuck, your cunt feels so good," he growled, his voice strained and rough with pleasure. "Squeezing my dick so fucking tight, like this greedy hole doesn't want to let me go." He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a bruising, desperate kiss as he pounded into you, his tongue plundering and conquering, claiming you utterly.

Your moans and whimpers were swallowed up by Sukuna's demanding mouth, your fingers tangling in his short hair as you clung to him, anchoring yourself against the force of his thrusts. You could feel your climax building, your walls starting to flutter and tighten around Sukuna's pistoning length as he fucked you with a single-minded intensity.

Sukuna could feel your walls starting to quiver and clench around his cock, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. He knew you were close, could sense the way your breath hitched and your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for release. But he wasn't ready for this to be over, not yet. He wanted to push you to the brink, to make you come apart completely on his cock before he filled you with his seed.

"Don't you dare come until I say so," Sukuna growled, his voice a low, dominant rumble. He gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze, to see the dark promise of pleasure and punishment in his eyes. "I'm going to fuck this tight cunt until you can't take anymore, until the only thing you can do is scream my name and beg for my cum."

With that, Sukuna redoubled his efforts, slamming into you with a force that had the car shaking and the leather creaking beneath you. The thick head of his cock kissed your cervix with each brutal thrust, the sensation of being split open, of being claimed so completely, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Sukuna's hand slid between your bodies, his calloused fingers finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, rapid circles. Sparks of electric pleasure shot through you, making your back arch and your hips buck wildly against Sukuna's. Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as Sukuna worked you towards your climax with single-minded focus, determined to make you come undone.

Sukuna could feel your body trembling beneath him, your walls clenching and fluttering wildly around his pistoning cock as your orgasm approached. He could see the desperation in your eyes, the way they glazed over with pleasure, and he knew you were teetering on the very edge of ecstasy. But still, he held back, refusing to let you tumble over the precipice until he was ready.

"Not yet, baby," Sukuna commanded, his voice a low, dominant growl.

To emphasize his point, he pinched your clit hard, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers and sending a jolt of intense pleasure-pain straight to your core. At the same time, he slowed the pace of his thrusts, withdrawing until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before sliding back in with a deep, deliberate stroke that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

Sukuna chuckled darkly at your reaction, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your sensitive skin. "That's it, baby. Feel every inch of my cock as it stretches this greedy hole, as it claims this cunt as its own." He punctuated his words with another slow, deep thrust, grinding his pelvis against yours as he filled you utterly, completely.

Sukuna's free hand slid up your body, palming the soft swells of your breasts before dipping beneath the fabric of your bra. He pushed the cups aside, exposing your aching nipples to the cool air, to his hungry gaze. Leaning down, he captured one stiff peak between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp before his tongue soothed the sting. He laved the sensitive bud with long, slow licks before sucking hard, sending jolts of electric pleasure shooting through you.

He could see the desperation in your eyes, the way they darted wildly, unable to focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure radiating through every nerve ending.

"Please, Sukuna," you gasped out between ragged breaths, your voice high and thin with need. "Please, I can't...I need...I need to come. Please let me come!"

Sukuna's eyes flashed with a dark, wicked gleam. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmured, "Beg for it, baby. Beg me to let you come on my cock like the desperate little slut you are." His words sent a shiver down your spine, your sex clenching hard at the filthy command.

"P-please, Sukuna," you whimpered, your voice breaking as you fought to hold back your rapidly approaching climax. "Please, I need it. I need you to let me come. I'll do anything, just please...please let me come!"

Sukuna growled, a low, approving rumble in his chest. "That's my good girl," he praised, before snarling, "Come for me, baby. Come all over my fucking cock right now!"

With that permission, your body exploded, your orgasm crashing over you with the force of a tidal wave. You screamed Sukuna's name, your voice raw and ragged as it echoed off the car's interior, as your sex clamped down hard around his pistoning length, rippling and fluttering as it tried to milk Sukuna for all he was worth. Sukuna groaned, his hips stuttering as your cunt squeezed and massaged his cock, pushing him closer and closer to his own release.

Sukuna's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave bruises as he slammed into you with a final, brutal thrust. With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt inside your spasming sex, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he found his own release. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Sukuna snarled, his voice strained and rough with pleasure as he came hard, painting your insides with thick ropes of his hot, sticky seed.

You could feel each powerful spurt of Sukuna's cum as it coated your walls, filling you up until it seemed like it would never end. Your womb clenched and contracted, greedy for every last drop of Sukuna's essence, as if trying to suck it deep inside you. Sukuna's body shuddered and jerked below you

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the afterglow of your intense coupling. Your chests heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your skin slick with sweat and flushed a deep, rosy pink. Sukuna's softening cock remained nestled inside your dripping sex, plugging you up, keeping his seed sealed deep within your body.

"I think this car just might be my new favorite fucking place." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, intimate kiss.

After, he lit a joint and passed it to you, his arm draped over your shoulders, both of you half-dressed and breathless.

You watched the city together. Not speaking. Just smoking and existing.

Then he said, quietly, “You’re not like the others.”

You looked over at him, skeptical. “You say that to all the girls you bring up here?”

“I don’t bring anyone up here.”

And for the first time, his voice sounded real. Like he wasn’t Sukuna the racer, Sukuna the gang-affiliated adrenaline god, but just a boy hiding out in the mountains with his car and a cigarette.

You turned your head and kissed him again—slower this time. Like maybe you believed him.

By the time he dropped you off, the sun was starting to rise behind the skyline. Tokyo looked softer in the morning haze, like the sins of the night hadn’t happened yet.

You climbed out of the RX-7, legs shaky, clothes rumpled, heartbeat still loud in your ears.

Sukuna rolled down the window. “Same time tomorrow?”

You leaned down, met his eyes.

“We’ll see.”

Then you walked away, knowing he was still watching.

Knowing he’d come back.

The next night came with thunder in the distance and a forecast no one paid attention to. Tokyo’s sky hung low with smoke and heat, and the city pulsed louder than ever—like it knew something was about to happen.

You did your makeup in the cracked mirror of a noodle shop bathroom, sliding on the same dark liner you wore the night before. You didn’t know what Sukuna had planned. He didn’t say anything when he texted Meet me at the docks. Bring your nerves.

But you went. Of course, you went.

The docks were chaos.

The industrial district was never meant to hold this much horsepower and neon. But somehow it did—crammed with imported muscle cars, revving engines, and bodies wrapped in crop tops and leather. A crowd buzzed around the race line, drinks in hand, thick clouds of weed drifting through the heat.

And there he was.

Sukuna stood near the starting point in a black tee and low-slung jeans, a blunt between his lips. His tattoos were on full display tonight, dancing across his arms and crawling up the side of his neck like flames. His red RX-7 gleamed under the floodlights like it had blood in its veins.

You walked up behind him. He didn’t turn. Didn’t need to.

“I was beginning to think you couldn’t handle two nights in a row,” he said.

“Please. You’re the one who looks like a commercial for heartbreak.”

Now he turned, eyes dragging slowly down your frame. He exhaled a curl of smoke. “You’re really gonna make me fall for you in front of all these people?”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped. You hated that he could do that—slice through your armor with a single smirk.

“What’s the plan?” you asked.

“Simple. I win. You ride with me. You keep your hands off me until I say otherwise.”

“Oh? Sounds like you’re scared I’ll distract you.”

He stepped close. Close enough that your breath caught. “I know you will.”

The race was set for midnight.

Sukuna and two other racers—an older guy with a shaved head driving a matte black Mustang, and a bleach-blond girl with a nose ring in a lime green Supra—lined up at the far end of the dock. The finish line was a white stripe spray-painted on the asphalt near a stack of rusted shipping containers. The course was short but brutal, weaving through crates, open cargo, and a tight hairpin curve along the bay.

“You coming?” Sukuna asked.

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure you want the distraction?”

“I said I know.” He grinned. “I like driving on the edge.”

You’d ridden with him before. But this was different.

This wasn’t drifting through moonlit hills or kissing in a parked car. This was pure chaos.

As soon as the girl in a red bikini dropped her scarf, Sukuna slammed the clutch and you were gone.

The car roared down the dock, wind whipping through the open window, your heart jumping into your throat. Crates blurred. Sparks lit the air as one of the other cars clipped a corner and spun, slamming into a steel wall. The crowd screamed.

Sukuna didn’t flinch.

He grinned.

“Hold on,” he muttered.

You barely had time to process before he yanked the wheel, drifting clean around a bend that should’ve flipped you both into the ocean. The tires screamed. The scent of rubber burned your nose. You pressed your hand to the dash, the G-force shoving you into your seat—thrilled, terrified, completely his.

“Are you trying to kill us?!” you shouted.

“No,” he said, calm as hell. “Trying to win.”

And he did.

He flew through the finish with half a car length ahead of the Mustang. The RX-7 skidded to a stop, your adrenaline so high you could taste it.

People cheered. Some jeered. The other racer slammed his door and threw his helmet at the ground. But you didn’t care.

You were laughing. Wild, breathless, alive.

Sukuna looked at you like you were the best thing he’d seen all night.

Then he leaned across the console and kissed you—hard.

There was no warning. No hesitation. His hand was at the back of your neck, lips claiming yours like he’d waited too long and didn’t have the patience anymore.

And you kissed him back.

Later, after the race cooled down and the crowd moved to the after-party, you stayed behind with him in the car. The windows were foggy again. His shirt was halfway off. You were in his lap, your fingers in his hair, laughing between kisses.

“Still scared?” he asked.

“Of you?”

You paused. Then whispered, “Terrified.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just pulled you closer, lips against your jaw.

“Good,” he murmured. “Means you’ve got instincts.”

But the night wasn’t over. As you slid back into the passenger seat, ready to follow him to the afterparty, you saw the black SUV roll slowly through the edge of the dock.

No music. No lights. Just tinted windows and license plates that didn’t belong.

Sukuna’s face hardened instantly. His hand gripped the steering wheel.

“Who is that?” you asked.

He didn’t answer. He just drove. Fast. Away from the dock. Away from the SUV. Into the heart of Tokyo night, where everything fun eventually turned into something dangerous.

You didn’t hear from Sukuna for three days.

Not a call. Not a text. Not even a rev of his RX-7 pulling up outside your apartment like he had that first night. Just silence, broken only by the flickering TV in your room, the cheap fan spinning overhead, and your own thoughts—louder than ever.

You tried to pretend it didn’t bother you.Tried to tell yourself: It’s just fun. It’s just summer. It’s just him being him.But deep down, you knew that was bullshit.

Because when he kissed you after that race, when he dragged you across the console like the world might end before sunrise—you felt something real. And that terrified you more than the speed ever did.

Friday night came, and with it, a heatwave.You showed up to the warehouse party anyway.

Not for him.(That’s what you told yourself.)

Music pulsed from inside like a heartbeat too fast. Bodies packed the converted industrial building like it was a nightclub, smoke curling in the corners, drinks spilling onto the floor. The smell of weed and exhaust clung to everything.

You were wearing something new. Something low, tight, soft on your skin and just dangerous enough that when you walked in, heads turned.

Including his.

Sukuna was there, of course. He leaned against a stacked speaker, red solo cup in hand, his arm slung around the waist of some girl you didn’t recognize—short skirt, high ponytail, laughing like she thought he was hers.

You froze.

His eyes met yours across the crowd, and for a second, you thought he might say something.But he just smirked. Lifted his cup. Like this was all a game. Like you were just another player.

Your chest tightened. You turned your back on him.

You found someone else by the bar. Tall. Cute. Not Sukuna. He complimented your shirt. You said thanks. He asked your name. You gave it.You laughed too loud at his joke. He leaned a little too close.And you let him.

You weren’t doing it to be petty. Not exactly.You just didn’t want to stand there alone while Sukuna played god with every girl in the room.

The second the guy’s hand touched your hip, Sukuna moved. Fast.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the noise like a knife.

The guy blinked. “You got a problem, man?”

“She’s with me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Funny. I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

He didn’t even look at you—just shoved the guy back, hard enough that he stumbled into a table of drinks.

“Hey!” you snapped. “He didn’t do anything wrong!”

Sukuna turned to you, his eyes dark. “Yeah? And what the fuck are you doing grinding up on some stranger like a party favor?”

Your jaw clenched. You stepped closer, voice low. “Oh, I’m sorry—did I miss the part where you owned me?”

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

He grabbed your wrist, pulled you through the crowd, out the back door, into the alley where the only light was from a broken vending machine flickering like a dying star.

“Sukuna—let go—”

“I don’t like being ignored,” he growled.

“You think I do?” You yanked your arm back. “You disappear for days, show up with some girl, and I’m supposed to just sit here waiting for your drunk ass to remember I exist?”

He backed you against the brick wall, arms on either side of your head.

“I didn’t fuck her,” he said, voice razor-sharp. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

You stared him down. “But you wanted me to think it.”

Silence. Thick. Heavy.

Finally, he muttered, “I’m not good at this shit.”

You blinked. “What, feelings?”

He laughed bitterly. “Yeah. That.”

Your chest softened, just barely. “Then why pull me into this?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”He leaned closer. “Because every time I close my eyes, I see you in my car, on my lap, under me—”

He stopped himself. “And it’s driving me fucking crazy.”

You didn’t let yourself speak.

Not until he whispered, “Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

You didn’t. Because it would’ve been a lie.

The kiss that followed wasn’t soft. It was a collision—tongues and teeth and something in between a fight and a confession. You didn’t stop him when his hand slid up your thigh. You didn’t care when the wall scraped your back or your lip caught on his teeth.

The alley heard everything. Your breathing. Your gasps. Your need.

You didn’t go home that night.

You woke up in the passenger seat of the RX-7, parked by the river. The sun was just rising, painting the skyline gold. Sukuna was asleep in the driver’s seat, head tilted back, mouth parted slightly, one hand still tangled in yours.

You stared at him for a long time.

Because even now, with the city finally quiet, with his walls down and yours cracked open, you still didn’t know if this was real. Or if you were just the latest thrill in his endless summer.

By the time July hit, Tokyo felt like a flame caught in a glass jar—blazing, trapped, ready to explode. You spent most nights in Sukuna’s car or in his bed, and every morning wondering if you were still just a distraction or something more dangerous.

He still never said much. But he showed up.

Late-night rides. Sweaty mornings. His hand slipping into yours when no one was looking.And when they were looking? He let them.

He liked the way people stared when you were with him. Like he was making a statement. Like he was saying: She’s mine.

The heatwave broke the night he brought you to the underground tunnel races. You’d never seen anything like it.

Beneath the city, where old train tracks had been converted into miles of echoing concrete veins, the scene felt like hell’s personal racetrack.

Oil drums lit the corners. Music bounced off the walls. Engines roared and echoed through the tunnel like thunder in a tomb.

Sukuna tightened his gloves, pulled his hair back, and handed you a helmet with a look that said: Trust me.

You did. Even though every part of you was screaming not to.

“This race isn’t for money,” he told you as you slipped into the seat beside him.“What is it for?”He paused. “Respect.”

The way he said it made your stomach knot.

Respect in Sukuna’s world didn’t mean popularity. It meant power. It meant being feared.

You leaned back in your seat and let him drive you straight into the dark.

The race was brutal.

Sharp turns with no warning. Barrels placed like booby traps. Other drivers clipping bumpers, trying to send him spinning. The RX-7 nearly flipped twice. You screamed. He laughed.

Then the tunnel curved too fast. One of the cars behind you clipped your back tire—metal screeched, you hit your head hard, Sukuna cursed under his breath— But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even blink.

He drove like the devil owed him something. Like pain was an aphrodisiac and fear was a flirtation. You were bleeding. Your side was bruised. And when he crossed the finish line, smoke trailing from the hood, the crowd exploded in sound.

He didn’t celebrate. He looked at you. Only you.

Later, when you pulled over by the river again, he sat on the hood of the RX-7, shirt off, blood drying on his temple. He lit a cigarette, then lit one for you. Passed it wordlessly.

You didn’t ask the questions sitting in your throat. But he answered anyway.

“You ever heard of the Akuma Syndicate?”

You stiffened. Everyone in Tokyo had.

“They used to run the underground scene,” he said. “Drugs. Cars. Weapons. Whatever paid fastest. I used to race for them.”

Your eyes widened. “Used to?”

“They wanted me to do more than race,” he said, voice low. “Wanted me to push product. Scare people. Kill, if I had to. I left before I crossed that line.”

You exhaled smoke. “You think they’ll let that go?”

He didn’t answer.

When he kissed you that night, it was different. Not rough. Not playful. But slow. Careful. Almost like an apology. You kissed him back like you didn’t care who he used to be.

Even if you did. Even if you knew the past always catches up.

A few days later, you saw it happen.

You were walking back to the garage where Sukuna had been tuning the RX-7 when you spotted the black SUV again—the one from the docks. Tinted windows. No license plate.

Parked across the street. Watching. Waiting.

The air was thicker than usual that night, sticky with tension and gasoline. You felt it the second you stepped into the garage.

Sukuna wasn’t working on his car.He was sitting on the hood, arms folded, jaw clenched, staring at the floor like he was waiting to be executed.

You didn’t ask. Not yet. You just walked up and said, “They’re back, aren’t they?”

His eyes didn’t move. “Yeah.”

“The black SUV?”

A slow nod.

“They followed me from the tunnel,” he said, finally looking up. “Didn’t even try to hide it. They’re not playing subtle anymore.”

Your stomach dropped. You crossed your arms. “What do they want?”

He paused.

“They want me back.”

You scoffed. “Back in the gang?”

“They called it a favor. One last race. Big money, big stakes. Winner walks. Loser gets nothing.”

“Nothing as in—?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That kind of nothing.”

He didn’t say it outright, but you saw it written all over his face. This wasn’t just a race.It was a setup.

If he refused, they’d come for him. If he accepted, he might not make it to the finish line. And somehow, you already knew what his choice was.

“You can’t outrun them forever,” you said quietly.

“No,” Sukuna admitted. “But I can sure as hell try.”

The race was set for midnight in Odaiba.Near the old ferris wheel, long shut down, rusting against the skyline like a forgotten god.

The crowd was smaller this time.Fewer party girls. More men with guns under their jackets.This wasn’t a street event. It was a syndicate job. And everyone knew it.

You stood near the RX-7, watching Sukuna tighten the bolts on his hood, sweat dripping down his temples. He looked composed, but his eyes were darker than usual—quiet, stormy, ready.

“I don’t want you here,” he said.

“Tough,” you replied.

He turned toward you. “If something happens—”

You kissed him.

Hard.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. “If you burn, I burn with you.”

He smiled at that. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

The other racer stepped out of a black Evo with tinted windows and dragon decals.He was older. Scarred. Long hair pulled into a knot. He looked like someone who didn’t lose often—and didn’t forgive the ones who beat him.

His name was Riku. You recognized him from the files the cops sometimes leaked online.He was more than just a racer. He was an enforcer.

And he had a message.

He walked right up to Sukuna before the race and said, “Nice ride. Shame if something happened to it.”

Sukuna didn’t even blink. “You can threaten me all you want. Just don’t touch her.”

His eyes flicked to you.

Riku smiled. “No promises.”

You rode with Sukuna. He didn’t ask this time. He didn’t warn you off. He just looked at you once, handed you the helmet, and muttered, “You sure?”

You slid into the seat. “Are you?”

The race started at the edge of the bay. A quarter mile along the waterfront, then a sharp turn through the container yards, ending in a narrow tunnel that spit out near the abandoned amusement park.

The signal dropped. Sukuna slammed the gas.

The RX-7 launched forward like a bullet, tires shrieking, Tokyo lights blurring into lines. The Evo stayed neck-and-neck for the first stretch, Riku trying to cut in close, nearly clipping your side mirror.

You held your breath. Sukuna’s knuckles were white on the wheel.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” you whispered.

He grinned. “Baby, death couldn’t catch me if it tried.”

Then the Evo slammed you from the side.Hard. The RX-7 skidded, spun, metal groaning. You screamed as Sukuna jerked the wheel, trying to correct it. Sparks shot from the undercarriage.

But he recovered. Barely. Then he did the unthinkable. Instead of speeding up to pass, he braked.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

He didn’t answer. Just let Riku take the lead through the yard.

Then—at the last possible second—he cut left. A shortcut.

A narrow path between containers barely wide enough for a bike, let alone a car. You could feel the walls graze the mirrors. But Sukuna was calm. Focused. At the end of the path, he shot out onto the main track just as Riku reappeared from the turn.

They were neck and neck.

The tunnel was the last stretch. Dark. Cramped. Echoing.

You couldn’t see the finish line. You couldn’t breathe. And then— A glint of metal ahead. You saw it too late.

A spike strip. Laid out across the tunnel floor.

“SHIT—!”

Sukuna swerved just in time, tires hitting the edge but not the center. The car lifted—slammed down again—something cracked beneath you.

But it kept moving. And then— The finish line.

The RX-7 flew through the checkpoint. Sukuna didn’t scream. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t celebrate. He just slammed on the brakes, flung the door open, and checked the damage. You tumbled out behind him, heart pounding.

“You okay?” he asked, breathless.

You nodded. He pulled you into him and didn’t let go for a long time.

Riku didn’t get out of his car. The second he crossed the line, he peeled off into the night, tires screaming. You didn’t know if it was rage, shame, or fear.

But it didn’t matter. Sukuna had won.

Back in the car, he looked over at you.

“Next time,” he said, “I’m keeping you out of this.”

You smirked. “Like hell you are.”

He exhaled. Touched your face.

“You’re gonna ruin me.”

You kissed him soft. “Maybe that’s the point.”

August cracked Tokyo open like a bottle left out in the sun too long. Sticky heat. Thicker smog. Everyone moving a little slower—but not you. Not Sukuna.

Not when you were still living on fumes and adrenaline. Not when the gang was quiet, the cops were watching, and you had nowhere to go but faster.

You and Sukuna were closer than ever now.His hand always on your thigh when he drove.Your shirt always half on by the time you pulled into a parking lot somewhere dark and empty.You’d talk after. Breathe each other in like you were trying to memorize what this all felt like.It was fun. And messy. And stupid.

But it was real. And that scared the shit out of both of you.

The party was at a rooftop club in Shibuya—high up, neon-soaked, pulsing with house music and smoke machines. The invite was from Nobara, the closest thing either of you had to a friend in this world. Loud. Sharp. Loyal as hell.

“She’s dating a DJ,” Sukuna muttered as he parallel parked between two Maseratis. “So expect noise and idiots.”

“I like noise and idiots,” you said, putting on lipstick in the passenger-side mirror. “I date one.”

He smirked. “Is that right?”

“You’re a loudmouth with no impulse control and a death wish.”

“And you like it.”

You didn’t deny it.

The party was already boiling when you stepped inside. Flashing lights. Bare skin. Glitter. The floor vibrated under your feet. Sukuna pulled you close, whispering against your ear, “Stick close.”

Not because he didn’t trust you. But because he didn’t trust anyone else.

You danced. Drank. Let yourself get a little too loose on tequila and the music. Sukuna didn’t stop you—he watched you, eyes locked on your hips like the whole room was on mute except for the way you moved.

And when some guy tried to cut in, Sukuna stepped between you so fast the guy backed off without a word.No fight. No scene. Just that look.Like: Don’t test me.

You laughed into his neck, drunk on power.And maybe on him.

But then the lights changed. Suddenly everything was red and white. Too bright. Too uniform. That wasn't part of the show.

It was police.

You saw Nobara across the room, eyes wide. She mouthed, Go now. But it was too late.

A megaphone cut through the music. “Nobody move! This party is under investigation for narcotics and illegal activity!”

Sukuna’s jaw locked. You grabbed his hand. “What do we do?”

He scanned the exits. Calculated. Fast.

“Get out that side door,” he hissed. “Run through the stairwell. Don’t look back. Don’t stop.”

You froze. “What about you?”

“I’ll find you. I promise.”

But you didn’t get the chance to run.

Two cops were already on you. Shouting. Pushing. Slapping metal cuffs onto your wrists. Sukuna tried to step in—

“Don’t move! Hands behind your head!”

Guns drawn. Voices shouting.

Your heart dropped. They took both of you.

Holding cell. 3:42 a.m.

The floor was concrete. The light above buzzed. You sat on a bench in a cold room that stank of sweat, piss, and cheap cologne.

You weren’t crying. Not yet. Just shaking a little.

You didn’t know where Sukuna was.They’d split you up at the station. Asked questions. Names. What you knew. What he did. If you were a part of it.You told them nothing.

But you were scared. Not of the jail. Not of the cops. But of losing him. Because they wanted him. You were just a bonus.

At 5:12 a.m., the door creaked open.

You stood up fast, heart in your throat— And there he was. Black hoodie. Bloody knuckles. Grinning like a devil who just won a bet.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Charges dropped. Nobara called in a favor. Her DJ boyfriend’s dad is a lawyer or something. Big shot. We’re good.”

You stared at him. “You… you got me out?”

He nodded. “Told you. I’d find you.”

You launched yourself into him. Held tight.

“Ride or die, right?” you whispered.

He kissed your hair. “Ride or fucking die.”

That morning, you drove out of the city with the windows down and music too loud.You watched the sun rise over Tokyo from the expressway, legs tucked under you, Sukuna’s hand resting on your thigh.

He didn’t say much. But he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world not burning.

They left Tokyo before nightfall. No goodbye. No warning. Just the two of you and the RX-7 cutting through Japan’s countryside with the sunset in your mirrors and a burner phone in the glovebox.

You didn't ask where you were going.Sukuna didn’t offer specifics.But it didn’t feel like running. Not with him.

It felt like something slower. Quieter. Like the beginning of the end.

The safe house was a rundown cabin in the hills above Hakone. Hidden by trees, overgrown grass, and fog so thick it looked like smoke curling off the earth.

Sukuna killed the engine, leaned back, and lit a joint right there in the driveway.“Not exactly the Tokyo skyline,” he muttered.

You slid out of the car, stretching your legs. “You brought me to a horror movie set.”

He smirked. “Could’ve left you in jail.”

“You did get me arrested.”

“I also got you out.”

You took the joint from him, inhaled deep, and blew smoke into the cooling air.

“Fair enough.”

Inside, it smelled like cedar and something older. Dust. Oil. Memories.

There were faded posters on the walls—old street races from before the 2000s. A tiny kitchen. One bed. No Wi-Fi. The landline didn’t even have a dial tone.

You looked around. “Who’s place is this?”

He opened a beer and took a long drink. “Used to be mine. Before Tokyo.”

“You lived here?”

“Briefly. After I walked away from the syndicate.”

You sat down on the couch, watching him. “Why’d you come back?”

His eyes flicked toward you, then away. “Didn’t feel real out here.”

That night was slow. Heavy with quiet. No engines. No music. No lights outside except stars you’d forgotten existed.

You and Sukuna sat on the porch, passing the joint back and forth, legs brushing.He smelled like smoke and mint. His hoodie was unzipped, and you could see the scar that curved beneath his ribs—a reminder of some old fight he never talked about.

“I thought I liked the chaos,” he said suddenly.“I thought it made me feel alive.”

You looked at him. “And now?”

“I don’t know.” He exhaled, smoke curling up into the moonlight. “Being with you... it’s different. Makes me want to stop looking over my shoulder.”

You leaned your head against his. “So stop.”

He paused.

“I’m trying.”

Later, lying in bed, you traced his tattoos with your fingers. The windows were open. The crickets were loud.

You whispered, “If we stay here, what happens?”

Sukuna turned his head toward you in the dark.

“Then it’s just you and me. No gangs. No racing. Just... whatever this is.”

You swallowed. “You think we could do that?”

He kissed your shoulder.“You make me think I could.”

And then he kissed you again.Slower this time. Less urgency. More ache.The kind that builds behind your ribs. When he pushed inside you that night, it wasn’t rough or wild like the others. It was quiet. Deep. Like he needed to feel everything.

His hand tangled in yours. His mouth brushed your cheek. You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. And maybe he was.

The morning after, the phone rang. The landline. The one you thought didn’t work. You both froze. Sukuna answered. You couldn’t hear the voice. But his expression changed instantly.

Gone was the softness from the night before.In its place—tension. Fury. Cold calculation. He hung up without a word.

“What?” you asked, standing.

He turned to you, voice tight.

“They found us.”

You didn’t even pack. There was no time. One second, the phone went dead. The next—Sukuna was already yanking open the garage door, his keys in hand, eyes like a lit fuse.

“They were watching the line,” he growled. “Should’ve known it wasn’t just for decoration.”

You followed him, barefoot on the cold wood floor, adrenaline rising like a tide. “Who was it?”

“Riku.”That name again—coiled like a snake in the room.“He said it’s over if I don’t race. That they’re done playing.”

“What happens if you don’t?”

He didn’t look at you. “They come for you.”

The drive down the mountain was silent.Sukuna’s jaw locked. His grip on the wheel too tight. You didn’t ask more questions. You just sat there, the sunrise spilling across the dash, thinking about how quickly peace disappears.

At the bottom of the hill, he took a turn you didn’t recognize.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere I left a piece of myself,” he muttered.

The “somewhere” turned out to be an underground garage in Kanagawa. Hidden behind a ramen shop. No signs. No cameras. Just a keypad Sukuna still remembered the code to.

Inside were two things:

1. A matte black Nissan Silvia S15, pristine.

2. A man sitting on a folding chair, smoking a clove cigarette.

He looked up when you entered. Narrow eyes. Silver hair. Sharp suit despite the grime.

“About time,” the man said.

Sukuna nodded once. “You still owe me.”

“I paid that debt years ago.”

“Then consider this interest.”

The man glanced at you, then at Sukuna. “Racing for a girl?”

Sukuna stepped in close. “Racing to keep her alive.”

The race was set for Dead Man’s Curve, a winding downhill nightmare of a track known for killing anyone cocky enough to try it after rain.

And tonight, the streets were slick. They wanted it that way. Riku was already there, leaning against his Evo. Arms crossed. A knife of a grin on his face.

“You brought her?” he called out. “Thought this was business, not romance.”

Sukuna walked right up to him.

“If I win,” he said, “you never come near her again.”

“And if you lose?”

Sukuna didn’t blink.“I don’t lose.”

You stood on the edge of the track, heart hammering. Rain misted over your skin. The engines revved like war drums.

The rules were simple: One-on-one. Downhill.No shortcuts. No brakes—figuratively or literally. Winner takes freedom. Loser takes consequences.

The flag dropped. They were gone.

Watching Sukuna race was like watching lightning fight gravity. Fast, chaotic, but with some kind of divine precision underneath.He was faster on the curves, daring where Riku played safe. But Riku was violent—ramming Sukuna’s back bumper, trying to spin him out.

It almost worked—twice.

You screamed when the Silvia’s tail end fishtailed dangerously near a cliff, but Sukuna controlled it like it was an extension of himself.

Then— At the last switchback— Riku made a move. Sharp. Dirty. He pulled forward, nosed in, slammed Sukuna sideways. But Sukuna had been waiting.

He let the spin take him halfway, then jerked the wheel, cut across the inside, and floored it. The Silvia shot out of the curve like a bullet.Riku overcorrected—

His car clipped the guardrail. Spun. Flipped.

Everything went silent.Smoke curled into the air. You ran.

Sukuna was already out of the car, breathing hard, face pale.

“Are you okay?” you cried.

He nodded. Looked back toward the wreck.“I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” you said. You grabbed his face. “I know.”

Later, under the flashing lights of arriving police and blinking streetlamps, Sukuna stood beside you with his arm slung around your shoulders. Riku would live. Banged up, arrested, done.

The gang? Disbanded. And you? You weren’t running anymore.

In the car that night, Sukuna looked at you, eyes raw.

“You still in this?”

You smiled.“You never even asked me if I wanted in the first place.”

He reached over, tangled your fingers with his.

“This summer was supposed to be fast and stupid,” he whispered.“I didn’t mean to fall in love.”

You kissed him like a crash you didn’t mind dying in.

August faded like the last drag of a cigarette.The streets were calmer now. No sirens in the distance. No rumble of midnight engines. Just a stretch of sun-bleached days, open roads, and the kind of silence that makes you question everything that came before it.

Sukuna hadn’t raced in weeks.He hadn’t needed to.

He still worked on cars, still drove too fast on empty roads when his head got loud.But the war in him had quieted. Because of you.

The city felt different when you weren’t hiding from it. You and Sukuna spent your mornings tangled in sheets, afternoons tuning engines with oil-slick fingers, and nights at rooftops or ramen shops with cold beer and music crackling through blown-out speakers.

He wasn’t perfect. He still rolled his eyes when things got too soft. Still smoked too much. Still drove like he had something to prove.

But he was different. Calmer. With you, he was becoming someone who could stay.

The conversation happened in the middle of nowhere. Just the two of you in his Silvia, parked at an overlook above the city. The sun was setting behind the skyline, bleeding gold and orange into the smog.

You had your legs in his lap, your head against the window. He was quiet. Thinking.

Then—

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said suddenly.

You blinked. Sat up. “What?”

He ran a hand through his hair, chewing on his bottom lip.“This was supposed to be fast and fun. Get in, get out. No feelings. But then you walked in with that mouth and that attitude and suddenly I was thinking about you when I shouldn’t have been.”

You swallowed. “Sukuna…”

“I know I’m not good at this shit. I don’t say the right things. I don’t even know what the right things are. But I do know I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep next to you every night.”

He looked over, eyes soft but burning.

“So I’m saying it now. No more almost. No more bullshit. Be mine. Officially.”

You stared at him. Hard. Long. Then you smiled.

“You’re already mine, Sukuna.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding it for years.Leaned in and kissed you. The kind of kiss that doesn’t rush. Doesn’t demand. Just promises.

You crawled into his lap right there in the front seat. Your lips still sticky with lip gloss, your hands in his hair. He pulled your shirt over your head like it meant nothing, but held your face like it meant everything.

You made love in the passenger seat of his Silvia as the Tokyo skyline blinked in the distance—slow, raw, honest.

Not adrenaline. Not lust. Love.

That night, when you were curled up against him, half-dressed, hair a mess, Sukuna whispered into your hair:

“This life… this city… all the noise? It can take everything. But it doesn’t get you.”

And he meant it. You still live in Tokyo.Still race sometimes—for fun, not survival.Sukuna opened his own garage. You help him run it.

Sometimes you drive out past the city just to feel the wind again. Sometimes you pull over and kiss like you’re still hiding something.But mostly, you’re just you and him.

A little messy. A little wild. But real. Fast.Loud. And alive.

Because some love stories don’t slow down. Some? They burn.

It was a Tuesday.

Not the kind of day anything dramatic should happen. You were in the garage, hair tied back, wiping grease off your hands while Sukuna cursed at a stubborn turbo.

The shop radio buzzed with early 2000s throwbacks. Everything felt easy. Domestic.

Like a life you never thought either of you would be lucky enough to have. And then— The bell over the garage door rang.She stepped in like she owned the air.

Tall. Tanned. Leather jacket and heels that didn’t make sense on the cracked pavement. Her hair was dyed copper. Her lips blood red. But her eyes? They looked at Sukuna like she never forgot him.

A/n: craving a fast and furious summer real bad

[sitepathos]

What if (Reader) just kills themselves? Or just find him dead somewhere

Does the Batfam care about him at all or just hate him completely?

Cause I'm slowly wanting to beat all of them up

I imagine then finding him dead or at least near death, instead of calling for Bruce, he calls for Alfred

And (reader) is literally batshit pun intended scared of everyone cause of trauma except for butler

I think if the Batfamily were to discover Reader dead, his body long since gone cold, it would be a slap in the face for all of them. For years, they’ve known that you exist, but couldn’t be bothered to really get to know you. Since you aren’t a vigilante and lack the capability to be trained and with all oof them having their own lives, they didn’t see the point in talking to you. Now, seeing their forgotten brother and son a corpse, they feel like shit. At your funeral, they try to talk about all the good times, but it’s only then do they realize most of them have never had a conversation with you, or even spent time with you.

And to top it all off, Alfred is PISSED at them. Sure, the butler’s expressed disappointment in all of them at some point (mostly over not properly caring for themselves), but this is different. He was just talking to you on that dreadful day and after not hearing from you for over 24 hours, he finds out that you’re dead and phone records show that the kidnappers tried to arrange a ransom, but not only do they not notice you missing, but they antagonize the man, no doubt leading to you paying the price.

He locks himself away in his room and no one tries to talk to him. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want to hear from any of them. Inside his room, he’s quietly weeping, begging for your forgiveness. Had he known you’d meet with such a fate, he never would’ve left Gotham. Hell, he probably would’ve kept you in the manor, pulling you out of Gotham Academy and homeschooled you himself. Out of everyone in the family, you were the only normal one (the bar for “normal” in the Wayne Family is exceedingly low) and he treasured that more than anything. He knew you hated living at the manor, but he had hoped that he could convince you to at least stay in Gotham while he tried to get your father and siblings to notice you.

And now, you’ll never leave Gotham, buried in the Wayne Family Cemetery. Perhaps he should’ve let you leave when you turned eighteen. Sure, you’d be on the opposite side of the country, but at least you’d be alive.

Now, let’s say you decided to give your kidnappers Alfred’s number. The moment he’s told you’ve been kidnapped, he’s packing his bags and heading back to Gotham. He’s former Special Operations, so he no doubt has a few favors he can call in and in this case, he’s requesting the fastest plane available and flying it at top speed to Gotham. He arranges your ransom, over a million from Bruce’s personal account (Bruce has Alfred on all his bank accounts for safety reasons, but this is the first time he’s ever had to use it) and while he’s taking off at top speed, he’s on the phone with Bruce.

It doesn’t matter if he’s in the middle of a fight, Alfred knows how to make Bruce’s comm come on and the moment the line is open, he’s tearing the man a new one. Bruce isn’t able to say a word because his butler/father figure is spitting out 200 insults and threats a second. The last thing he says is: “I’ve arranged for the kidnappers to drop Master Y/N at the fairgrounds. I will be back within the hour and if he’s not back at the manor upon my return, you will not like what happens next. And god help you if a single hair of his is out of place.”

It’s been years since Bruce has known true fear (probably when he was rushing to save Jason and seeing the warehouse explode), but right now, he’s absolutely afraid of what will happen if he fails to bring you home. He rushes to the fairgrounds and sees you tied to some pole and blindfolded and he feels a world of guilt hit him in the gut.

You are his firstborn son and here you are, traumatized from some thugs. And if he didn’t feel like a piece of shit before, he really does when you tell him you not only knew he’s Batman, but that you were surprised that he’d be the one to save you. He actually sheds a few tears upon hearing that. He picks you up and refuses to let you go until you’re back home.

Things at Wayne Manor take a 180. When Bruce sees that you’ve been staying in a small guest room on the other side for the manor, he moves you to a room next to his; you’re not able to go anywhere, even within the house, without at least two of them following you; and they actually start treating you with decency, patting you on the head/back, greeting you in passing, having conversations with you, etc. They all feel guilty over their behavior towards you for over 10 years and try to make it up to you.

When Alfred tells them that you have plans to move back to Goodsprings, they beg you to stay in Gotham, Bruce even offering to put you up in a luxury apartment if you don’t want to stay in the manor. Just be prepared for them to visit at all hours everyday, even stoping by during their patrols.