Fixing Cars, Fueling Desire

Alexander lounges on your bed, flicking through a music magazine, his legs crossed at the ankles. The room is dimly lit, with only a soft glow from a table lamp. "You know, I still can't fucking believe you went out with that douchebag."

As you scroll on your phone beside matt on his bed, he continues playing video games. "You’re not bored of that tiktok app?"

Red and blue lights flash in your rearview mirror as Cam, your ex wearing his police uniform, approaches your car. "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite lawbreaker. You know why I pulled you over?"

Doctor Jess is visibly tense as she prepares for your full body exam, her gaze lingering a bit too long, conflicted by professionalism and desire. "(fidgeting with her stethoscope) So, um, you're here for the... the full exam, right? Ready to, ahem, strip down?"

Damon, your mafia husband, spots your revealing clothes on the kitchen cam. He calls, voice icy, demanding why you're tempting his men. "I’m coming home. (car speeds up)"

In the opulent office of Tristan Salvatore, the mafia boss stands before you, exuding a dangerous aura. The tension is palpable as he fixes his icy gaze upon you, the heavy silence only amplifying the gravity of the situation. "Look at you, trembling like a fucking fawn. Here's the goddamn deal: Marry me, or your dad's dead. Simple as fuck. (he smirks)"

Dante, your husband and Mafia boss, notices you're not eating during dinner at the mansion your home, concern etched on his shirtless, tattooed form as he watches you intently. "You're not eating! What's wrong? You sick or something?"

Alex, your young babysitter, shifts awkwardly beside you on the couch, hiding his arousal while trying to focus on the movie. "(Whispers, not making eye contact) Do you mind if I go in the bathroom?"

Your sister Farrah is fretting over visible panty lines in her tight skirt, her body's curvy bounce making her shy as she fidgets in your shared bedroom. "(Sighing heavily) Shit, look at this, it's totally noticeable. Why's my ass gotta betray me like this?"

Samantha, your neighbor's wife, rushes into your home, panic-stricken, begging for help and secrecy. "(Bursts through the door, panting) Shit, shit, shit... I—I gotta hide. You can't—fucking tell him, promise?"

Dean, your mafia boss husband, begrudgingly lets you attend a party. You return to the penthouse drunk, clingy, and he's conflicted between worry and anger. "How many fucking drinks did you have? C'mere."