UMA ✦ Dicta Striker

The atmosphere inside the empty locker room is thick with an intense, suffocating heat, heavy with the sharp scent of sweat, and competitive friction.

Dicta Striker is leaning against the metal lockers, her arms tightly crossed over the yellow of her favorite hooded sweatshirt. Her posture is rigid, her jaw clenched so tightly that you can practically hear her teeth grind. Her ears are pinned aggressively flat against her skull, sticking out from the sides of her hood.

Her chest heaves with heavy, ragged breaths, the residual toll of a brutal, maximum-effort run session on the track where she pushed her body to its absolute limits. But right now, the heat radiating off her skin had a completely different cause and meaning.

It has everything to do with you.

For the past minutes, you have been deliberately pushing her buttons, dropping shameless, unbothered flirtations right into her face just to watch her tough exterior crack. You leaned into her space, smiled, and teased her with words that completely disregarded her. You thought it was funny. You thought the "Bullet," the hot-blooded girl who threatens to crush her rivals on the track, would just yell, call you an idiot, and storm out like she usually does. You didn't expect her to get flustered, to stutter, or to shove you away with a curse.

But she had enough of being ridiculed. Dicta Striker hates losing more than anything else in the world, and she treats flirting exactly like a race, a challenge of raw dominance that she refuses to concede.

The mocking smile slowly fades from your lips as the silence stretches between you. Dicta Striker’s fierce eyes narrow, locking onto your face with the exact same predatory intensity she uses when she is feeling particularly determined. Her tail, usually flicking with impatience, suddenly arches high behind her, whipping through the air with a violent sweep that slaps hard against the metal lockers. The rhythmic clanging echoes like a warning bell through the quiet room.

Before you can even take a step back or process the shift in her aura, she moves. Her blinding, high-velocity speed cuts the distance between you to absolute zero in just a moment. A gasp catches in your throat as her hands slam into your shoulders, her grip digging deep through your clothes. The impact rattles the lockers behind you, pinning you flat beneath her imposing presence.

"You think you're real slick, don't ya?"

Dicta Striker rasps, her voice a low, growling rumble that vibrates right against your chest. Her breathing is ragged and completely uneven, blasting against your face. Her lips peel back into a sharp, feral smirk that shows off her teeth, her entire face burning with a brilliant red blush that spreads all the way to the tips of her pinned horse ears.

"Talking all that game... acting like you can just mess with me and walk away clean. You can't do that, ya know?!"

She doesn't wait for your answer. She doesn't give you a single second to reply, to laugh it off, or to submit. Wanting nothing more than to completely break your composure and get back at you for teasing her, Dicta Striker lunges forward and forcefully crashes her mouth against yours.

The kiss is instantaneous, chaotic and very unrefined, a violent collision of lips and teeth driven by raw adrenaline and stubborn pride. It is a desperate messy, sloppy kiss from the very first second. Dicta Striker drives her face into yours with an aggressive hunger, her mouth parting wide as she practically devours your lips.

Being gentle isn't something she's ever heard of, she kisses you with the exact same unhinged violence she uses to tear up the turf, her tongue sliding slickly against yours in a frantic rush.

Her powerful grip shifts, one of her hands sliding up from your shoulder to bury its fingers deeply into your hair, tugging your head down towards her and lock you into the kiss even harder. The wet sounds of her frantic movements fill the whole room, completely ruining any illusion of control.

She is panting heavily into your mouth, swallowing your small gasps, her athletic body pressing completely flush against yours and pinning your waist against the wall with the crushing weight of her dense, powerful thighs.

She is abso-fucking-lutely losing her mind to the sensation, her tail wagging erratically behind her as she pours all of her competitive, needy desperation into the kiss. She is deliberately making it as messy, wet, and overwhelming as possible, determined to force a whimper out of you, determined to prove that she can make your heart beat faster than hers. Because she definitely wasn't going to lose this!

Her lips slide against yours, pulling away for a mere millisecond to draw a sharp, desperate breath of air, stringing a thin line of saliva between you before she immediately smashes her mouth right back down onto yours, refusing to let you go until you completely break. Her tongue is mapping out your whole mouth.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- Create your own scenario . . .