#stranded open starter

[etxrnaleclipse]

Open: any Connection: someone who has been involved in an accident of some kind (no ships) Muse: TK Strand. 25-30. EMT.

"Hey there, take it easy, ok? Looks like you've had a hell of a day, huh?" TK offered them a small, friendly smile.

[thestoriesincoffeestains]

Stranded Out [Raisa]

"Look, we're stranded in the middle of nowhere with a flat tire, this cabin's got no AC, and help isn't coming for 24 hours. I say we make the most of it, but if you're gonna be grumpy the whole time, leme know now."

[zoomingupthathilla]

The walkman was already almost turned all the way up, but it wasn't enough. Turning it louder, trying to drown out her own thoughts. Fighting to stay sane, to keep calm. The self proclaimed zoomer, moments from a breakdown, so lost in her own battle that her surroundings basically faded away.

[bailesona]

" god, why is nobody listening to us! she's missing! she's been missing for five whole days now! she never does that! she never, NEVER leaves without telling us! she wouldn't do it, she wouldn't even think about it, so don't tell me that she's fine, that she's okay, because it's beyond obvious that she isn't! she... " she's just sixteen. sixteen and on the brink of that rising wave of tears that's been climbing at a rapid pace for five days now. she might actually cry in front of this person... funny. the world has just been decimated. the universe sliced in half. and this idea, that she might cry in public... it's what scares her more. " where IS she? " and then she does it. says the three words that crack the dam of tears firmly. " where's my mum? "

OPEN STARTER. / STARRING: TINA LI!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hear me out

Long haired dante (maybe even more than DMC5 dante) that can tie up in a ponytail make silly hair styles BUT

I knooow that he just let's his hair grow cause you can help him tight it up his hair in a ponytail or maybe a manbun

But let's be honest he just wants to be on the lap like a oversized cat (demon cat??) giving him headpads or just playing with his hair

(i like to think that Dante let's his hair grow cause it reminds him of his mother in a way(?))

I made a mini drab based off of this. I couldn’t help it.

Dante with long(er) hair is my personal heaven, he most likely gets bored of having to cut it -that and he likes having small reminders of his mother, makes him feel closer to her in a way- and lets it grow out until it’s practically a silver mane of hair that is just barely reaching past his shoulder blades.

He’s a little lazy when it comes to maintaining his hair, so it most likely gets filled with knots fast thanks to all the stuff he gets up to, yet it’s the most softest thing you have ever felt that you swore it might as well have been made out of silk; this is especially more true after about thirty minutes close to an hour of vigorous brushing.

However this works in Dante’s advantage too as it means he gets to be a lazy half demon by lounging himself across your lap, grabbing your hand and placing it atop of his head as he closes his eyes and begins to purr, happy to be within his happy place; your lap.

‘I swear your more demon cat then actual human.’ You say as you run your fingers through his thick hair, proud of your hard work to get it as smooth and knot free as you could, your poor hairbrush almost broke on serval occasions but it was worth it in the end of this is how you get repaid for your work.

‘Hmm?’ Dante hums, stretching his limbs before going slack once more. ‘How so?’

‘You hog my lap for starters, you purr and I’m not allowed to move until you deem it important enough for me to do so.’ You listed off the top of your head, scratching his scalp in the right places and being treated to a particularly deep purr from his throat as Dante pressed his head further into your touch, groaning.

‘That’s the good stuff right there sweetheart, just a little more to the right,’ you do as he asked, unbothered that he has yet to disprove the allegations that you were throwing at him, smiling to yourself as he practically melts in your lap, ‘that’s the spot.’ He adds in a sigh, his limbs outstretched in all possible ways they could, some even dangling off of the comedically small couch that you share.

‘You really love this don’t you?’ You say as you took in just how relaxed and content he was within your lap, face free from stress and frustration of the jobs he takes on, he looks a lot younger in this moments as strands of silver blocks your sight of his pretty face as you instinctively pushed them behind his ear. ‘You look so at peace, I wish I could see you like this all the time.’

Dante chuckled as he opened one of his eyes to look at you adoringly. ‘Then I guess you’re stuck here until we’re old and grey, what a shame.’ He jokes but stops when he felt you tug a strand of his hair, smirking down at him as you did so. ‘Looks like someone is already halfway there.’ You teased, tickling Dante with the end of his hair against his nose, squealing and pulling away when Dante tried to playfully nip at your fingers.

‘Are you calling me old?’ He asked aghast.

You shrug. ‘Then don’t have hair that makes you look old.’

Dante pouts at you before closing his eyes once more, this time in an act to prevent himself from seeing you as you continue to laugh at his expense. ‘Then why you dating me then if my hair makes me look old huh? Sounds like a you problem really.’ You kiss his forehead. ‘Yeah it does sound like a me problem for liking a man with old people hair,’ you says softly as you heard him grunt underneath you, ‘but It’s a good thing I like the man beneath the old man hair enough to ignore such a thing.’ You then proceed to ruffled his hair.

‘What if I went bald-‘ Dante tried to say.

‘Absolutely fucking not.’ You interrupt, face becoming a grimace at the thought, a bald Dante was a curse you didn’t wish to see in a million lifetimes.

[fightingthetoxicallegations]

OPEN STARTER: VOICES.

TW: Delusions, mentions of murder, self harm, blood, mentions of suicide attempts.

Theo hates talking about his past. He's never been much of a talker, anyway. But his past is something he's especially secretive about. He feels as though talking about it makes him weak. Like he can't handle himself good enough to be able to deal with it on his own.

Now, he doesn't want to talk more than ever. About anything. He wants to sink into the ground and disappear forever. The voices in his head got louder recently. Especially his father's. He's been berating Theo basically 24/7 as of late. He tried ignoring it for a while. His sister's voice helped him tune it out. Then, his mother's voice appeared again. And that was hard to ignore.

Bickering. Yelling. Arguing. It won't let him sleep. Worst of all, his sister's been silent for a while now. He's going to go batshit crazy if this continues. He's already dealing with constant headaches from the lack of sleep and nonstop yelling. He just can't deal with it anymore.

One day, he snaps. He starts talking to the voices. Telling them to shut up more frequently. It doesn't help, in fact, it only worsens the problem. His father is now mad, his mother is lamenting. Both are annoying as fuck. Even worse, it's making his skin crawl. He wants to just peel it off and get a new one. It feels like there's bugs crawling underneath it.

You find Theo sitting on the ground, his temples are bleeding, it's almost like something clawed on them. There's a bloodied scalpel on the ground beside him, chunks of skin missing from his forearms, revealing muscle. He's shaking. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up." He's saying it over and over again, his voice full of venom. He's grabbing at his hair with his blood-stained hands, strands of it sticking together with the green-tinted blood.

Taglist (ask to be added or deleted!!!): @the-great-emperor-commodus @steve-the-union-man @another-argo @literally-tinker-bell @the-son-of-the-sun @roryandthethorns @dad-left-for-the-milk @reyno-solis-real @onlymythologypersonincamp @l0st-child-of-war @lyric-of-the-sun @toxic-daughter-of-love

[twilightsumu]

Taking What’s Not Yours 

Pairing: S. Gojo x AFAB!Reader 

Synopsis: Based on the song Taking What’s Not Yours by TV Girl! Satoru is obsessed and you're moving on. 

Warnings/genre: nsfw, smut (mdni), riding, Gojo being obsessive, crude language, cursing, angst/no comfort, no happy ending. 

a/n: Congrats on 2k my sweetest @prosypepper! This just came together so easily and I couldn’t be happier with it! My first Gojo piece ugh, I hope you guys enjoy it! :) 

Word Count: 1.7K

The sun is streaming in just the perfect amount — it’s not bothersome and quite warm. As warm as the empty space next to him. The smell of your vanilla perfume is still floating above his head. He wishes he can breathe in, so hard, that it stays etched into his nostrils. 

His eyes are still closed, his hands roaming the empty side of the bed. Gripping and grasping the warmth, at the reminder. His fingers carefully, but casually searching and prodding like the end of a fishermen’s line. And like a fish to a worm, he wants to gaslight himself and believe he felt a tug. 

His cerulean eyes shoot open battling the brightness with the sun. His hand grabs the culprit of the pretend tug — your earring. The one he gifted you for your nine month anniversary, two hundred seventy six days ago. 

He moves to sit up, the sheet flowing with his naked waist. The headboard is cold and harsh as he leans on it — sleep kneading into the muscles of his back. He still smells your vanilla perfume. 

He studies the diamond earring, twisting it in his index finger and thumb. The sunlight flinging off it and creating pretty kaleidoscope shadows on the blinds in front of him. 

He lets out a sigh — he tries to have it come out smooth and content, as if you’re behind the door listening. Watching him. But it’s rushed and desperate — the true emotions that’s rushing through the sunbeams and into the bed, crowding your spot. And you’re not here anyways.

He turns away from looking at how the sun kisses your side and turns to his bedside table. He closes his eyes, his hand not gripping the earring on the knob of the little dresser.

He knows what’s in there. No one else does. Only the little parts you leave for him to hold on too. Like the trinkets a child keeps on their bedroom desk over the years. They look at them with love and governance as the days and years pass on. Ignoring the dust, sometimes forgetting the stories that come with it.

He slides the drawer open — a pair of your panties, those red lace ones that he knew that you knew he loved. A hair tie, some strands of hair tied into it. A copy of the book you pretend you read but you were using it as a conversation starter the first time you guys met — neither of you caring about whatever the fuck Thomas Pynchon was writing about in Gravity’s Rainbow. Your glasses case, you actually texted him about it after the breakup and he lied saying he didn’t know where it was. 

Whenever you come back, he’ll be afraid you’ll finally snoop through these little parts of him and see what he’s been holding close to his chest. And now, the earring that’s dropping its ways and getting accustomed with the other items of this little shrine he’s made just for you. 

In case you wanted to come back. Or not, he’ll have a place to look for you — right here in the privacy of his room with the sun shining and remnants from last night still treading softly on his body.

You: Hey! Did I happen to leave an earring at your place? 

Gojo: Not sure. I’ll look for it! 

You: Thank you! No big deal if you don’t find it :)

You: Hope you’re good 

Gojo: Perfect actually :) 

You’re moving on top of him — your hands on his chest, your hair covering the side of your face, your mouth open — letting out the softest hum of a moan. The head of his aching hard dick sliding between your wet folds, stretching you just right. Your pussy clenching on to him like it is trying to keep you two connected, taking away Satoru’s job. 

You let out a louder moan that dances along with his strangled groan. The smell of vanilla and sweat filling the air. He thinks he hears the contents of his shrine drawer ratting a bit. He could even taste the desperation that is coating his tongue dry. 

You roll your hips once, teasingly. He gives you a sharp inhale and tight grip of your hip in return. 

“Toru,” you whine. Your eyes shutting shut. Your hands pressing into his chest a little harder. The sounds of your slick coursing the room as you grind your hips down on him harder, finally meeting the base of his cock. His ears prick at the sound of his nickname comfortably tumbling from your plump lips. 

He wants to throw his head back in pleasure. He wants to be one hundred percent in this moment. God, he wants to so badly. But the new shiny necklace delicately placed on your chest, swaying and bouncing everytime your hips leave and meet him. The chain swinging like a pendulum right in front of his face. It is the only thing he could pay attention to right now. 

You’re moving slow and deliberate — like you’re making sure every slow motion gives him full access to this foreign object on you. Each drag and lift of your hips made him twitch inside of you. His fingers digging bruises into your skin — out of pleasure and the nagging reminder of the new piece of jewelry. 

The moonlight harshly shines on it, making sure he sees it. He thinks he could take out a magnifying glass and figure out just what this necklace means to you right now. He’ll ignore your questions and stares. Like how you ignore his feelings when you come over just for sex. 

He wonders if he could quietly slip it off later and bring it to its home — along with the other little bits of you. The same ones rattling in the drawer to the side of your connecting bodies. 

Your tits bounce with every drop, the way your thighs clench around him, the way you arch just slightly when he hits that soft spot inside you — he’s cataloging it all. Like the necklace is putting him in a trance and reminding him that this shouldn’t be happening. So he has to remember, he has to take notes. 

You’re not his. 

But he’s yours. You just don’t want him to be. 

You ride him harder and he finally shakes off the necklace from the forefront of his brain and meets you halfway, hips lifting to thrust up into you with reckless force. His hand moves from your thigh to the curve of your ass, gripping roughly, pulling you down on him even deeper. It’s messy, frantic now — like neither of you wants to take it slow anymore. No more pretending. He’s fucking you for an answer and you’re fucking for your own pleasure. 

Sweat beads at your temple, pressing your baby hairs to your forehead. The slap of skin-on-skin fills the room, along with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies connecting just right. His name spills out of your mouth like a broken prayer every time you slam down onto him. Maybe the necklace has put you in trance as well. 

A shaken hand drifts upward — not to stop you, not to guide you — just to touch. He wants to skim your collarbone, flutter his thumb on the scar on your shoulder blade. Instead, his fingertips ghost over the chain as you fuck yourself on his cock like you don’t care what it means. Like it’s just sex.

It’s not just sex to him. 

Like that isn’t just a necklace to him. 

Or those little trinkets aren’t just trinkets, but actual threads that keep you knitted to him without you knowing. 

He closes his eyes, pulling you down harder. Skin to skin. The necklace pressing into his chest as well. 

If he can’t take it physically, he’ll make sure he’ll feel it. So that maybe you guys could compare later down the road. 

It’s late evening. The sun is sinking down below the trees, like it’s trying to hide away from the stares of everyone around it.

Satoru is sitting on his couch, not in comfort. He can’t really say how he’s feeling, he just is not comfortable. 

Especially as he stares down at the box of his own trinkets in front of him. 

A T-shirt of his. 

Sunglasses he only wore on dates with you. 

His favorite Digimon shirt. 

Three different blindfolds. 

His high school yearbook. 

And to laugh at him as he stares in despair — a framed picture of you two. 

Which was taken three hundred twenty two days ago. 

You dropped off these things earlier. A harsh, but gentle reminder (you do everything gently and he wonders how) that you’re not together anymore. 

That his things should not be parading around your space. Your face was soft, your lips curled in a slight pout. Your eyes skipping from his and looking behind him into his house.

He wondered if you developed some super power that allows you to see through things. He quickly shifts in front of your gaze. 

“Do you have anything of mine?” You whisper. And he wants to bring you closer, make you say it again. He wonders if he’ll lie. 

“No.” He stated plainly. He didn’t lie, those things apart of his shrine for you is his. His heart beating so fucking fast, he knows that you hear it. Maybe you also received super developed ears that could hear his heavy breathing, his heart beating, the shrine shaking at this very moment. 

Maybe you heard the exact moment when you knew this would be over. Leaving him in the silence that comes when the love of your life moves on. The silence that only people who are stupid enough to believe in forever hear — as it drifts from the trees of the days that you knew the other person was in love and the quiet whispers of broken promises after sex. 

An unbearable silence. 

“Okay,” you stare up at him. “Well, if anything comes up. Just send it to me. Yeah?” 

Satoru stares at you. Wondering if he could send his heart in the postal — would it be too bloody? 

He just nods, wanting you to leave. He’ll look at the framed picture. Feel the earring. Maybe sniff those panties. 

“Bye Satoru,” you huff. Turning away, the only person the sun isn’t afraid to have it watch it's ever slowing descent into the dark. 

And you walk off, taking his heart with you. Shoving it in the pocket of jeans he wished you left here. 

Both of you being little thieves in the name of heartbreak. 

© twilightsumu. all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or plagiarise my work.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Suck My Balls | Kevin Magnussen x Mercedes! Reader

Summary: When you and Kevin collide on track, fans half-expect you to start attacking each other. That’s not… quite how it ends.

Warnings: 18+ after the cut. Male oral. Enemies to lovers. Not an original title but how could I call it anything else 

Requested: No, which makes it worse lol

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

liked by georgerussell63, hulkhulkenberg and others 

yn_ln starting p3 tomorrow, looking forward to going racing. in a position to push for a podium

2,044 comments

mercedesamgf1 that’s our girl! looking forward to a masterclass of overtaking 

georgerussell63 flaunting the gear, are we? yet you make fun of me when i post the tommy

→ yn_ln “flaunting the gear” and “post the tommy” this is why twitter say you have 0 aura

→ georgerussell63 @/mercedesamgf1 she’s being mean again 

→ user i love the 2019 rookies in merc

charles_leclerc you couldn't have gone a little slower and let me on the second row instead? 

→ yn_ln it’s against my contract to help pretty boys 

→ danielricciardo is that why you gave max a tow?

→ maxverstappen1 that was an accident! 

user she’s such a great starter. i bet she ends up leading by the second lap at least 

user y/n podium incoming

→ user i think you mean y/n win incoming 

→ alex_albon i can feel it in my bones 

→ yn_ln thank you my #1 fan

→ georgerussell63 so you steal my aura and my alex? 

user it’s a shame that y/n’s time knocked nico into p11

→ user it's okay because haasband kevin magnussen will be committing war crimes to defend him 

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f1 posted a new story

18+

A throaty groan filled the room as nimble fingers tugged harshly on cropped blond strands. In response, his lips sucked on the pulse point below your ear. Kevin chuckled against your skin when your hips rolled eagerly against him.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this,” you spat, shoving him away from you.

“Skat, I have my thigh between your legs. There’s no way for me to not enjoy this.”

You rolled your eyes at the smug grin on his face, pushing him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the hotel bed. He let himself fall backwards with a soft thud. Tucking an arm behind his head, he watched your eyes track the flex of his bicep with a smug smirk.

“Don’t be an asshole. Or I stop.”

“Now that would be more disappointing than the DNF.” His words trailed off as he choked on his own breath. The palm of your hand pressing down harshly on the bulge in his jeans. “Fucking hell.” He groaned, throwing his head back.

“Do you really want to piss me off right now?”

Kevin lifted his head, blue eyes darkened and pink lips apart, breathing heavily. Your hand moved to the top of his jeans, popping open the button and revealing a glimpse of grey boxers. A dark spot had formed where his tip sat.

“Desperate, are we?”

“Do you ever shut up?” Kevin groaned, pink staining his cheeks.

“Only when my mouth’s full.”

“Then I suggest you get on with it.”

He lifted his hips, helping you to pull the denim down his thighs, giving up once they’d reached his knees. He watched eagerly, holding his breath as your fingertips reached for the waistband of his boxers. He squirmed when your fingers skimmed his stomach. His boxers are pulled down, freeing his cock. It slaps against his stomach, thick and heavy. The cool air paired with the way you’re looking at him sends goosebumps rippling across his thighs.

A stuttered breath left his lips when your hand wrapped around him. Slowly working him, you sink to your knees between his legs. Your hair tickles his thighs when you lean down to press a kiss to the bottom of his stomach.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he hissed.

You ignored him, trailing open-mouthed kisses down his thigh all whilst your hand pumped him. Your tongue licked a stripe up his balls, enjoying the way his body jolted beneath you.

“Fuck,” he grunted when you took his balls in your mouth, sucking slightly. You chuckled against him, sending vibrations through his balls. “Oh, shit.”

Your tongue trailed a line from his balls, up the underside of his shaft before wrapping your lips around his tip. Looking up, your eyes connected with his just as you sucked. Enjoying the way his head tipped back, you took more of him into your mouth before pulling back up. His hips bucked up, chasing your lips. Hollowing your cheeks, you bobbed up and down. His abs clenched when your tongue traced his slit, and you were rewarded with a throaty groan from Kevin. His hand reached for the back of your head, tangling in your hair. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for you to pull back. Pulling back up, your lips sucked gently on the head of his cock.

“You’re so beautiful.” Kevin whispered, pushing a strand of hair back from your face.

Using his hold on your hair, he pushed your head down further. His cock hit the back of your throat, and you gagged slightly. Your hand continued to pump what you couldn't reach with your mouth. Allowing Kevin to control the pace, you relaxed your jaw, taking more of him in when he pushed you down again.

“Shit, you’re so good at that. I’m so close.”

Encouraged, you suck harder, hand reaching down to cup his balls. With a slight squeeze, you let Kevin push your head down once more as he releases with a loud curse. Thick white ropes of cum paint your tongue, leaking from the side of your mouth.

“Oh, god. Oh, fuck. So good.” Kevin whimpered, sensitive as your mouth slid off him.

Hair dishevelled, cheeks pink, mouth wide open, looking spent and satisfied. You decided you could get used to this sight of Kevin.

“I told you that you’d like that.”

Before you could laugh at your own joke, you felt the world spin and your back landed on the white sheets. An involuntary wince escaped you, body bruised from your earlier crash. Kevin immediately scrambled back, off your body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I forgot- and it’s my fault-“

Your arms reached out for him, yanking until he lost his balance, almost collapsing atop you. His arms fell beside your head, bracing him.

“Shut up. You’re not here to be nice. If I wanted nice, I’d have asked your teammate.”

“He couldn’t fuck you like I can.”

“Prove it.”

And, as Kevin reached down to yank your leggings away, a darkness in his eyes, you knew he would.

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yn_ln just posted

liked by kevinmagnussen, francisca.cgomes and others 

yn_ln it’s a shame some people don’t have better reaction times but the main take away from this weekend is that i’m okay. a little bruised and a lot disappointed. now for a little girly self care 

2,750 comments

landonorris oh god, my eyes 🤮

georgerussell63 blimey, warn a man first. not what i wanted to see 

→ yn_ln "blimey?" do you need to calm your nerves with a spot of tea?

alex_albon treat yourself, girly 

user i love how the 2019 rookies are together

→ user alex being the only supportive one

mercedesamgf1 we’ll see you on that top step soon enough, yn 

user not k mag liking this post whilst she shades him in the caption

→ user can you blame him. she’s thirst trapping

→ user he probably saw people on twitter talking about it and came to drool 

user being a passenger princess is the ultimate form of self care

alexandrasaintmleux loving the aesthetic 

→ user even the man?

→ alexandrasaintmleux especially 

charles_leclerc is the bath a good place to cry?

→ yn_ln yes

→ charles_leclerc can you show me how to make one like that?

→ yn_ln also yes. on my way 

lilymhe okay, i see you. treating yourself in more ways than one

→ yn_ln it definitely was more than one way 

→ landonorris filth!

user why aren’t more people freaking out about the fact that there is clearly a man touching her???

→ user thank you! like who is he? is this a soft launch or just miss thing flaunting the fact that she probably got railed after the grand prix

user anyone else think that tattoo looks a lot like kevin’s?

(picture 3 has been deleted) 

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Requests are open

No tags because this is smut and I don't know if all of you are comfortable with that :)

[wileys-russo]

hot and cold II a.russo

hot and cold || a.russo

it didn't take long after you woke up to see that alessia wasn’t herself.

for starters the girl wasn’t wrapped tightly around you as normal like a second skin, as she always was no matter the weather which caused much the broken sleep for you in summers when her taller form would insist she'd have to sleep practically on top of you.

the blonde instead today had chosen to sleep curled into herself on the very edge of the bed, seemingly as far away from you as she could get.

you'd reached out and absentmindedly began to trace shapes against the soft tanned skin of her back where her shirt had ridden up, but she mumbled something incoherent and shuffled further away from your touch.

assuming she’d just had a bad dream or wanted some space you’d not thought much of it at first still half asleep you'd drifted back off.

but awaking a couple of hours later you rolled over again and tugged softly on the back of your girlfriends top to let her know you were wanting her attention and affection.

but all alessia could do was murmur a quiet no and push your hands away, tucking her knees into her chest curling into a ball of sorts as your eyebrows knit into a concerned frown, pulling yourself to sit up.

alarm bells had gone off the moment you glanced down to see the sweat beading on her forehead and the obvious grimace of discomfort plastered across the blondes face, even whilst still half asleep.

you carefully leaned over and pressed the back of your hand to her forehead, gently knocking away her own as they tried to push you off with an annoyed grumble, frown deepening as you felt the obvious temperature she was running.

"baby you're burning up." you whispered softy, alessia staying quiet but pushing your hand away and shrugging it off as you tried to get her to roll onto her back and she refused.

instead your feet hit the carpet and you were out of the bedroom and downstairs in a flash, hastily darting around the kitchen and bathroom cabinet to grab what you needed.

in your brief absence the striker had now shuffled over into the middle of the bed, arms tightly hugging a pillow to her chest, duvet kicked off and precariously hanging off the edge of the mattress.

“less, baby.” you squatted down beside her, softly poking at her side as the older girl sighed deeply and turned over, cracking open one eye tiredly.

"what?" she muttered as you used a tissue to gently dab away the sweat on her forehead much to the noises of displeasure she let out at the gesture, but rapidly losing her energy to continue to push you off she let you do it.

“I think you’re sick, can I please take your temperature? your forehead is really warm.” you’d requested quietly with a small smile, moving to tenderly brush away the loose strands of blonde hair which were stuck stubbornly to her clammy sweat dampened skin.

“m’not sick, im fine.” alessia had grumbled sleepily, huffing again and rolling back over away from you and it was now your turn to sigh, having feared this would be her response.

there wasn’t anyone more stubborn or in denial when accused of being unwell than your blonde lovergirl, you were almost certain of it.

this behaviour though not new to you, never became any less worrying or frustrating when all your heart ached to do was take care of the girl who everyday would go above and beyond to do the same for you, but who you knew would fight you at nearly every turn convinced you were wrong.

you jumped suddenly and fell backwards, startled by the glaringly loud and shrill tone of your girlfriend’s 8am alarm, hurrying to your feet and the other side of the bed, tapping it off.

alessia groaned and pushed her head under the pillow at the noise, one final kick sending the duvet flying off the bed and hitting the floor with a thump.

a thin sheen of sweat covered her bare legs too, though the goosebumps on her arms as she hugged herself tightly with a slight shiver only further solidified your theory.

luckily for both you and her today was her rest day so she didn’t need to train, and the pair of you had no other commitments lined up.

but the paralysing fear of sleeping through or missing her alarms and being late for training meant alessia never ever turned them off, even on rest days.

“go away!” alessia pushed away your hands with a soft whine as you attempted to stick the thermometer in her mouth, your own frustration levels spiked a little but you were far from ill prepared for her response.

“lessi please just let me check your temperature and then you can go back to sleep. you’re burning up and i need to make sure it isn't too high or else we need to go see a doctor, aren’t you hot?” you asked, biting down on your bottom lip with concern as she shook her head stubbornly, half heartedly kicking your body away from hers as you tried to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

"no i'm cold." she mumbled as you stood and grabbed the duvet, shaking it out and placing it on top of her again, wincing as no sooner did you was it kicked back to the ground. "not that cold." your girlfriend huffed as you paused to take a breath.

“alessia. baby i love you very much and i know how you get when you’re sick better than anyone else. i know you don’t feel good and i know you’re grumpy and i know you're uncomfortable and you don't know why. but i just want to take care of you and try to make it better in anyway i can. please?” you tried again, squatting down to her eye level and pleading with her as unimpressed ocean blue eyes bore back into yours.

“for god sakes i am not sick im tired! we stayed up late watching that movie and i wanna sleep in. just get away from me then if you’re so fucking concerned that i'm sick, which i'm not!” the blonde growled, lashing out and moodily throwing her body to face the other way again, shoulders hunched and body language closed off as you dropped your head in defeat.

“fine, i’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” you pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath knowing she didn’t mean to snap at you, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when she did.

knowing the more you pushed right now the more she would push back you left her on her own as you closed the bedroom door behind you with a soft thud, padding downstairs with a shake of your head at alessia's stubbornness.

despite her insistence that she was fine you knew that she wasn’t, and you were still determined to take care of her even if that had to be from a distance for now.

so leaving her upstairs to rest you called your mum, having her talk you through the soup she’d always made for you as a child when you were unwell, hastily scribbling down notes and rushing around to see what you were missing.

dismissing her offers to come over and help knowing that would only worsen your girlfriends mood with her smothering, you left a quick note for alessia explaining your absence and stuck it on the fridge before ducking out to the shops.

meanwhile back up in bed in the solitude of her own company, alessia was now near boiling.

she’d tried everything to cool herself down not long after you'd left her.

the fan made her nose run, the hum of the air con made her head thump for and forcing herself into a cold shower which only made her nose run even more and her ears feel blocked and sore which then sprinted on into an absolutely pounding migraine as she nearly fell to the tiled floor of the shower.

so tired, miserable, achey and at her limit, the blonde was craving nothing but the comfort of your arms wrapped around her, now feeling even worse for how she’d treated you this morning.

this was always the routine though, alessia hated being sick, hated doctors, hated medicines and hated when there was aspects of her bodys behavior out of her control. so when someone tried to tell her that was the case her instinct was always to lash out and argue the diagnoses.

stripping down into only a singlet she sought out your company with an apology on the tip of her tongue, almost falling downstairs as she did, tripping over her own feet and letting out a cry of surprise as she just caught herself on the railing, stopping from tumbling head first with a shaky exhale.

squeezing her eyes shut with a wince a searing strike of pain shot through her head and suddenly the striker could feel her heartbeat in her ears. though when there wasn't any sign of you, no forever loving girlfriend rushing to her side with a teasing smile and a mocking joke about her two left feet, alessia's heart rate accelerated.

a sudden wave of nausea rocked the strikers body as she sniffled, wiping away at her nose which was running like a tap with the collar of her top, gripping so tightly to the railing her knuckles had now turned white as the dizzy spell eventually faded.

she called out hopefully for you. once, twice, and then a third time, each more desperate than the next as her chest tightened and she stumbled downstairs. did she go too far? did she finally push you away? had you left her? she couldn't blame you for any of those much as she was praying she was wrong.

the blonde let out a sigh of relief as she pressed her blisteringly hot forehead to the cool marble of the kitchen bench, taking a moment to try and collect herself a little as her head continued to pound.

a coughing fit suddenly wracked her body as she doubled over and grabbed at her stomach, throat red raw and throbbing as she staggered her way to the fridge, throwing it open and grabbing a bottle of water.

taking a few cautious sips amongst attempted deep breathes her body seemed to settle, and it was then she noticed the note you’d left for her on the fridge and had you been there you’d have seen her practically deflate as her eyes scanned the page, though she was also grateful you hadn't left because of her behavior this morning.

though her anguish was short lived as she threw herself down on the sofa, arms draped across her face to block out the light as she busied herself counting to 100 and back down again, something she’d done with you countless amounts of time when you’d been anxious on long plane rides, never having been a confident flyer.

but the girl barely made it to thirty before she heard your car pull in with a crunch of gravel and then a door slam shut. but before she could even force herself to sit up your keys jingled in the lock and the front door popped open.

you were so much so in a rush to return and get things prepped that you didn’t even notice the messy blonde head of hair staring at you from the sofa.

though once you did you let out a loud yelp of surprise, dropping a carrot to the ground and clutching at your chest as your heart rate sky rocketed and alessia finally forced herself up and to her feet.

"alessia! jesus christ." you exhaled catching your breath as it was only your girlfriend and not an intruder, rosy red nose and lily white pale complexion frowning at you a few feet away.

“you left.” was all the striker could manage to get out before another coughing fit wracked her body and your eyes widened, hurrying over to her aid and helping her slowly sit back down.

“here baby, small sips.” you encouraged gently, tilting the bottle of water to her lips and crouching down in between her legs as her chest heaved but the coughing fit passed.

“better?” you asked worriedly and your girlfriend let out a deep exhale, nodding tiredly as your heart ached to see the deep bags under her eyes and the broken look of pain behind them.

your legs beginning to cramp you stood to your feet, unable to even fully stand before arms wrapped around your torso and the italian latched onto you, burying her face in your chest as she remained sat on the sofa.

“i’m so sorry.” the girl managed to mumble out as her hands clung desperately to the back of your top, yours rubbing soothing circles into her back and promising her it was okay before gently pulling her off.

though that was to no use as the striker once more grabbed onto you, arms wrapping around the back of your thighs now as she bent forward, the blonde looking uncomfortable as she did, easily the taller one of the two of you.

“don’t go. please i didn't mean what i said earlier i want you, i need you.” she croaked out, chin resting against your stomach as she looked up to you, tears beginning to well in the corner of her eyes as your face softened.

“hey hey hey, love i just need you lay down here for a few minutes, i'm not going anywhere but to the kitchen. i’m gonna make some of my mums soup so we can try to get something good into your stomach, and i know you hate it but i need you to take some medicine. then i’m all yours lessi, i promise.” you once again tenderly brushed away a few matted strands of hair which clung to her forehead, taking the opportunity to check her temperature with the back of your hand, sighing in relief that it seemed to have lessened slightly from before.

“i’m not hungry or sick. i don't need soup or medicine, i need you.” the girl managed to get out, her voice incredibly raspy and fading fast with the ongoing coughing fits as she stared up at you, absolutely exhausted.

“i know baby but you are sick. so i need you to eat something and take some medicine to try and fight this so you aren't sick for very long, i just want you to feel better. then like i said i promise i’m all yours, i won't leave your side.” you reassured, nails gently scratching at her scalp as her eyes fluttered close in pleasure and she nodded, unwinding from you and laying back down on the sofa.

"thank you lessi, i'll be right back." you promised as she nodded, eyes slowly closing as exhaustion took over.

you darted away for a moment to grab the cough medicine and cold and flu tablets from the shopping bags, eventually encouraging your girlfriend to begrudgingly take both much to her disagreement.

“i’ll be as quick as i can, do you need anything for now?” you knelt down to press a loving kiss to her forehead, lips lingering there for a moment as you felt her shake her head, feebly mumbling for you to hurry making you smile.

within twenty minutes you had the soup going and had been making frequented checks on the blonde sprawled out on the sofa, sleep seeming to have caught up with her as she dozed on the couch, once more curled into a ball and coughing every now and then.

“you’re taking too long.” but a few moments after checking her temperature again it would seem you spoke too soon.

you felt the taller girl hunch over and press her face into your back, arms tightly wound around your mid section and you felt her overwhelming body heat suffocate you.

“i’m almost done baby, just go lay back down and i’ll be with you soon.” you tried to unwrap her from around you but were only met with a quiet grunt no and her refusal to let you go.

"i told you to hurry. i'm not leaving, i need you." she croaked as you melted, feeling her straighten up a little as her chin hooked onto your shoulder. "okay. i love you." you whispered, kissing her cheek as the blonde nodded, eyes closed again making you smile and tuck her hair behind her ear.

at least grateful she was back to her normal clingy self you gave into her demand to stay latched firmly onto you, softly murmuring for her to move with you every now and then as she clung on from behind and you stepped around the kitchen, finally finishing the soup and dishing up a bowl for the blonde attached firmly to your back.

you had her sit down again on the sofa, taking a seat beside her as the italians head slumped tiredly to your shoulder and she instantly melted into your side when you declined sitting on her lap like she tiredly tried to pull you to.

you flicked on the tv and threw on something light and funny, knowing the girl curled into you had always appreciated background or white noise but lowering the volume as to not further aggravate the headache she'd been complaining about the last half an hour.

with soft encouragement and coo’s of praise you managed to feed the blonde at least half the bowl of soup before she pushed it away with a shake of her head, mumbling she was full as you nodded in understanding and set it aside on the coffee table.

“cuddles?” the older girl croaked out, tilting her head back from where it rested on your shoulder and opening her arms, and you swooned at the girls soft nature. "i told you i need you." she added on with a grumpy scowl when you didn't answer her fast enough

“yeah baby, cuddles.” you promised, assisting her to switch positions with you as the two of you now lay down on the couch, alessia sprawled out half on top of you as her head thumped down tiredly on your chest, her arms locked around around you.

switching the movie over to something you knew she was more likely to settle down and watch you threaded one hand through her hair and snaked the other up the back of the thin singlet covering her, rubbing soothing circles into the slightly damp skin of her back, her temperature lowering but still very much not back to normal yet.

“kiss.” the blonde moved her head to look up at you expectantly and you smiled, pressing one to her forehead as she frowned. “proper kiss.” your girlfriend croaked out, puckering her lips expectantly as you again smiled but softly shook your head.

“you’re sick baby, not today. i can't look after you if i get sick too.” you tried to explain gently as her frown only deepened and you felt her pinch at your sides, adjusting on top of you so she could somewhat push herself up a little more.

“if you get sick i’ll just take care of you. so give me a kiss!” the grumpy blonde ordered as you sighed, knowing there was no way you could possibly win this with how cute and how stubborn she was.

"better take good care of me, germy." you teased pressing a quick kiss to her awaiting lips, following up with several more pecks before she could protest as her face slowly melted into a satisfied smile and she settled herself back down on top of you.

“you’re such a big baby when you’re sick alessia, honestly.” you teased quietly, sighing as once more the striker moved herself to sit up slightly and glare down at you.

though before she could argue her body convulsed as she coughed and darted to be out of your way, you rubbing at her back and pressing gentle kisses to her exposed shoulder before helping her to take a few sips of water.

"don't call me alessia." she grumbled out once she'd calmed, sending you an unimpressed look and you lay back down. “sorry lessi baby, i love you.” you corrected softly as she nodded, grumbling that was better and settling herself on top of you again.

“do you want me to put your hair up?” you offered a few minutes later, feeling the back of her neck start to rise in temperature where you’d been massaging it gently at it as the taller girl nodded.

slipping the hair tie off of your wrist you scraped her hair up into a messy bun, the blonde pressing a grateful kiss to your jaw as she scooted up your body, settling down again.

"thank you babe, i love you." the blonde mumbled as you echoed the words back. pushing up the back of her singlet your nails scratched absent minded patterns into her bare back, feeling the blonde sigh contentedly and tighten her grip on your top, material balled in between her fists as she pressed herself impossibly close into you.

mumbling sweet nothings to the italian your lips lingered on the crown of her forehead, feeling her eventually doze back off, grip onto you never loosening even as she did.

throughout the afternoon anytime you tried to move she would awaken, grumpily ordering you to stay and shifting on top of you, pressing a kiss to any inch of your skin she could find in the moment as you promised you weren’t going anywhere and she would once more doze off.

and stubborn, grumpy and soft as she was when unwell, you wouldn’t change her for anything in the whole entire world.

[etxrnaleclipse]

Open: any (ships only for Carlos muses) Connection: friend, family, colleague, 911LS canons etc Muse: TK Strand. 25-30. EMT.

"I already told you, I'm fine. You and I both know I've had worse."

[mononijikayu]

why are you obsessed with me? — ryomen sukuna.

"You seemed really into it tonight." he noted casually, though his eyes held that familiar gleam. “Just playing my part, darling.” you replied with a shrug, but your voice was softer, a hint of something warmer seeping through. Sukuna stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. "Maybe we’re both playing a little too well, aren’t we, baby doll?" he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.  You met his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Or maybe we’re not playing at all." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the crowd outside.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern singers au!

WARNING/S: romance, fluff, secretly dating, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, elaborate roleplay, making out, smut, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, teasing, flirting, playfulness, dancing and singing, possessiveness, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of sexual tension, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, frontman! sukuna, front!woman/soloist! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.9k words.

NOTE: finally the starter for this year's kinktober!!! i liked this idea of sukuna being a frontman and just dating another singer and just like getting off doing this play of them having this rivalry but they're actually together??? i sat there and was like 'actually, their bed activities must go wild after every fake fight!'; anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

if you want to, tip! <3

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PEOPLE DIDN’T KNOW HOW IT STARTED. But everything about the rivalry was electric, charged with an intensity that made headlines and drew crowds. Anyone who had been there from the beginning would swear it was something you had to experience firsthand—a front-row seat to the wildfire that was your feud with Ryomen Sukuna. 

Both bands had climbed their way to the top on different wavelengths: you, with your poetic lyrics and magnetic stage presence, a master of drawing the crowd into the emotion of your songs; and Sukuna, with his raw, untamed energy and unapologetic attitude, commanding attention like a force of nature. The music industry loved pitting you against each other, fanning the flames of competition, but no one had expected it to escalate the way it did.

It started innocently enough. Sukuna, in a radio interview, casually commented, “Sure, they're good, if you’re into that whole soft and emotional vibe. I just think music should have a bit more… bite.” The host laughed, the audience cheered, and Ryomen Sukuna’s grin was all teeth—sharp, confident. “You know, you gotta expect more!”

You had fired back the next day on social media with a witty post: “Bite all you want, but if your bark’s louder than your music, maybe you’re just a dog chasing its own tail.”

The tweet went viral within minutes. 

The fans loved it. The music blogs devoured it, dissecting every word, every implication. Both your names were plastered across headlines, articles speculating about a burgeoning rivalry that was just too juicy to ignore. The tension simmered, but it was still lighthearted, still playful. 

Then Sukuna took it to the next level.

At his next concert, in front of a sold-out crowd, he made a spectacle of it. “This next song….” he announced, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s dedicated to someone who thinks they can keep up with me.” His grin was wicked as the crowd roared in anticipation. The opening notes rang out—an aggressive beat, the kind that grabbed you by the throat. The lyrics were sharp, mocking, filled with clever jabs that made it unmistakable who they were about.

"Got your head in the clouds, but no feet on the ground, baby doll." Sukuna sang with a sneer. "You talk about a big game, but all I hear is sound. Nonsense!"

The audience went wild as the guitar line merged with the drums. The pyrotechnics were going insane with the beat. People ate it up. Social media exploded. Hashtags trended within the hour. Your name was on everyone’s lips, and suddenly, it was your turn.

Not to be outdone, you fired back at your own concert, taking shots at his image, his music, and even his fans. The cheers and screams were deafening; you knew you had his attention. From then on, it was an all-out war, a back-and-forth of jabs and taunts, each concert a new battleground. 

Then came the diss tracks.

You released yours first, a biting, cleverly constructed anthem that didn’t just mock his music but dissected his entire persona with surgical precision. The internet went wild. Memes, fan theories, reaction videos—your name was on everyone’s lips. Sukuna's response was swift, and his diss track hit like a punch to the gut. It was brutal, unapologetic, and catchy enough that even your own fans had to admit it was a banger.

Lines were drawn. Your fans and his went head-to-head on every platform imaginable, turning comment sections and fan forums into war zones. Arguments broke out, allegiances were tested, and friendships fractured. The media couldn’t get enough, fueling the fire with articles dissecting every lyric, every post, every glance exchanged between you two. It wasn't just a rivalry anymore; it was a movement.

And through it all, there was an unspoken understanding between you and Sukuna. A thrill in the way your eyes met across the stage, a shared smirk when your names were spoken in the same breath. You were rivals, sure, but there was something else there too—a magnetic pull that neither of you could deny. Every diss, every jab, was just a prelude to something bigger, something inevitable. 

People just had to be there. To witness the chaos, the passion, the music that became the soundtrack to an unforgettable war. To see how a feud could blur the line between hate and something far more dangerous. To feel the tension crackling in the air, knowing that this was only the beginning.

On your next concert, where you decided to strike back. “Heard some noise the other day, bothersome noise really.” you told the crowd, a sly smile playing on your lips. “Sounded like a toddler throwing a tantrum. So, I thought, why not give them something real to cry about?”

The audience cheered, sensing the impending retaliation. And you delivered, every line of your song a retort, every beat a blow aimed squarely at Sukuna. "You get on my nerves; You're so fuckin' annoying, you could poison poison?" you sang, a smirk on your lips as the crowd chanted along, the hook instantly catchy, an earworm that would haunt Sukuna’s name for weeks. 

By the next day, the diss track was trending everywhere. Ryomen Sukuna was asked about it during an interview, and his reaction was priceless. He chuckled, clearly amused, his eyes gleaming with something dangerously playful. “Oh, I’m annoying, am I?” he mused, leaning back in his chair. “Well, sweetheart, when you’re that easy to rile up, it’s just too tempting not to play.”

Behind closed doors, though, it was a different story.

Backstage at a private after-party for Uraume’s album reveal, Ryomen Sukuna cornered you with a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "That was cute, baby doll." he said, his voice low, intimate. "But you know you just gave me more to work with, right?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "Oh, please. As if you could come up with something half as clever."

Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, his smirk growing. “You think I’m not capable of playing your game?”

"I think you're used to being a blunt instrument, hm?" you teased, leaning closer. "But there's an art to this, darling. Not just noise."

His grin widened. “We’ll see about that, baby doll.” he murmured, his hand brushing yours—intentionally, deliberately. For a moment, your breath hitched. There was a charge in the air between you, an unspoken understanding.

It became a pattern. Each new concert brought a fresh wave of insults, veiled in clever lyrics. Every interview turned into an opportunity to stoke the fire, to keep the fans on the edge of their seats. The tension, the back-and-forth, the rapid-fire comebacks—it all played out in front of the world. But behind the scenes, it was like an elaborate game, a high-stakes dance that neither of you could quit.

"You seemed really into it tonight." he noted casually, though his eyes held that familiar gleam.

“Just playing my part, darling.” you replied with a shrug, but your voice was softer, a hint of something warmer seeping through.

Sukuna stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. "Maybe we’re both playing a little too well, aren’t we, baby doll?" he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. 

You met his gaze, a smirk tugging at your lips. "Or maybe we’re not playing at all." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the crowd outside.

He chuckled, leaning in closer until his lips were a breath away from yours. "Careful, my baby doll." he whispered. "People might start thinking about something else.”

Your smile widened, eyes locked with his. "Maybe it is." you replied, your heart racing in your chest, as his lips finally met yours, soft yet insistent. “Maybe it isn’t.”

══════════════════

THERE WAS SO MUCH ADRENALINE. You were pacing back and forth, adrenaline coursing through your veins as your bandmates tuned their instruments, stealing glances at you. The festival was the biggest one yet, and your set was right after Sukuna and his folk. 

The perfect setup for another battle, another clash in this never-ending war. It was another festival gig and Sukuna was here again. But you weren’t just thinking about the performance. Your thoughts kept circling back to that smirk Sukuna flashed you from the stage earlier, as if daring you to make the first move tonight.

Your bassist nudges you with a grin. "You’re not seriously thinking about what he said last week, are you?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course not." you lied. "But he’s been pushing it lately, don’t you think? I’m just figuring out how to outdo him this time."

Just as you said that, the door swung open, and there he was—Ryomen Sukuna, flanked by his own entourage, looking as smug as ever. His eyes zeroed in on you instantly, that familiar glint of mischief lighting up his gaze.

“Ready to get outclassed again?” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. Your set was… okay, if you’re into repetitive noise.”

He chuckled, stepping closer, ignoring the tension that rippled through the room. “Is that the best you’ve got, sweetheart? Because I’ve heard your new track… and honestly, I’m not impressed.”

You raised an eyebrow, your heart pounding with a mix of frustration and exhilaration. “Right, because your lyrical masterpiece about your ex was so groundbreaking. What was it called again? ‘Cliché’? Or was it ‘Cringe’? Hard to tell.”

Sukuna laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down your spine, though you’d never admit it. “At least people are talking about it, baby doll.” he shot back, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, you and I both know… this isn’t about the music anymore.”

You took a step closer, refusing to back down. “Oh? Then what’s it about, Sukuna? Enlighten me.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper that only you could hear. “It’s about this… you and me, driving each other crazy. Admit it—you’re having fun.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. For a second, the noise of the festival outside seemed to fade, and all you could hear was your heartbeat, loud and insistent.

“You wish.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m just here to win, Sukuna.”

His grin widened, and he moved even closer, so close you could see the sparks in his eyes. “Then let’s see who wins tonight, baby doll.” he murmured, a challenge in every word. "And maybe, just maybe… we’ll figure out what the hell this really is."

Before you could respond, he turned on his heel, heading out with a laugh that lingered in the air long after he was gone. You stood there, breathless, wondering how the hell he always managed to get under your skin—and why a part of you liked it so much.

Your drummer nudged you, pulling you back to reality. "So… what’s the plan now?"

You smirked, grabbing your microphone, your adrenaline surging. “The plan?” you said. “We give them a show they’ll never forget.”

As you took the stage, you saw him standing off to the side, watching you with that infuriating grin. The crowd was roaring, the lights were blinding, and somewhere in the midst of it all, you felt the spark ignite again.

This was far from over.

The roar of the crowd vibrated through the stage as you stepped up to the microphone, eyes scanning the sea of faces. And there he was, off to the side, arms crossed and a smirk plastered across his face. Ryomen Sukuna was waiting—waiting to see what you’d do, how you’d respond to his taunts, his challenges. The rivalry had become a game, but one neither of you were willing to lose.

You leaned into the mic, letting the energy of the moment wash over you. "How’s everyone doing tonight?" you shouted, and the crowd erupted in cheers, the noise almost deafening. "You know, I wasn’t sure if we should even bother showing up after that last set." 

You paused, letting the words sink in, and a wave of laughter and excited murmurs rippled through the audience. Your guitarist strummed a sharp chord, and the band jumped in with the opening notes of your new track—the one that had set the internet ablaze.

The fans knew the first lines by heart, screaming them back at you with an energy that could only come from shared devotion. You caught Sukuna’s eye, feeling that familiar thrill at the challenge that lay in his gaze.

Halfway through the set, you decided to escalate things. You turned back to the mic, catching your breath. "You know, guys…." you began. “There’s been a lot of talk lately… about who's really on top in this scene." 

The crowd cheered louder, sensing where you were going. "Some people think it’s that guy over there." You pointed in Sukuna’s direction, and the audience erupted into a mix of boos and cheers. “Hey pink head.”

Sukuna, ever the showman, gave an exaggerated bow, playing to the crowd’s reaction, which only made them more riled up.

“But I think we all know, everyone.” you continued, leaning forward with a grin. “That the real reason people are here tonight… is to see which one of us cracks first. So, what do you say, Sukuna?” You called out, your voice carrying over the noise. “Why don’t you come up here and face me?”

A ripple of excitement and disbelief swept through the crowd. Ryomen Sukuna’s smile grew wider, and without missing a beat, he moved toward the stage, his entourage trailing behind. He jumped up onto the platform, grabbing a mic from one of the stagehands, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You really wanna do this, baby doll?" he taunted, his voice low and teasing. "Because I don’t think your fans can handle what I’ve got in store."

You stepped closer, the tension thick between you, the audience practically buzzing with anticipation. “Oh, I think they can handle a lot more than you can, Sukuna.”

He laughed, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to echo off the stage walls. “Alright then, let’s give them a show.” He turned to the crowd. "How about a little live battle, right here, right now? Let’s see who’s really got the chops."

The crowd went wild, chanting both your name and his, the noise rising to a fever pitch. Your bandmates looked at you, uncertain but excited. You gave them a nod—it was on. You faced off with Sukuna, mics in hand, the beat dropping low and steady, building tension. The music swelled, and Sukuna started first, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. 

“You think you’re on top, but you’re just a phase,  

A flicker, a flame that’ll soon be erased.  

I’m the storm, the fire, the one they all fear,  

And when this is over, you’ll wish you weren’t here.”

The crowd erupted, and you could see the challenge in his eyes, daring you to match his intensity. He continued on, people saying ‘ey’ ‘oh’ and screaming as they echoed their words. You stepped up, not missing a beat as you grinned at him.

“You swagger and boast like you’re king of the stage,  

But all that you’ve got is that pathetic, tired old ass rage.  

I’m the light, the spark, you’re the one drinking cheap booze. 

When I’m done, your crowd’s gonna give you nothin’ but boos.”

The audience was in a frenzy now, torn between the two of you, your words cutting into the night air like knives. Sukuna leaned in closer, his grin still in place, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer force of his presence. He was electric, enigmatic. He was everything all at once as you looked at him.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that, baby doll.” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over the chaos. “But do you really think you can outlast me?”

You smirked, adrenaline coursing through you like a drug. “Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The beat dropped again, faster, harder, and the two of you kept going, each line sharper, each verse more biting than the last. It wasn’t just a performance anymore—it was a test of will, a clash of two forces too strong to coexist but too intrigued to stay apart.

And somewhere in the midst of it all, as the crowd surged and screamed, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t trying to win this battle. Maybe you were just trying to keep Sukuna’s eyes on you for as long as possible. 

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T WANT TO GO TO PRACTICE TODAY. But you decided that you were going to go anyway. Mainly because your bandmates said they’ll buy you your favorite matcha drink with your favorite croissant today. And you like to be given free stuff, so off you went, dressed in baggy clothes and headed to the studio.

The studio lights were dimmed low, and the energy in the room crackled with excitement. Your bandmates were clustered around, phones in hand, eyes glued to the social media explosion that followed your latest diss track.

They seemed more excited than you. Especially now that you get to perform it live. You sat in the center, drinking your matcha drink with a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips. The track had dropped at midnight, and by morning, it had already become the talk of the town.

The song was everywhere now. Fans and critics were dissecting every line, every beat, comparing it to Sukuna’s latest attempt at a rebuttal. But this time, you’d hit a nerve. You knew that already. Sukuna’s the type to enjoy saying something about anything and everything. Your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced down to see a message from your manager.

"Check his story." it read. “Now.”

You quickly grabbed your phone, pulling up Sukuna’s social media. Sure enough, an Instagram Live was broadcasting in real-time. Ryomen Sukuna lounged on a familiar couch, the blue glow of his phone screen casting a soft light on his face. His expression was a mix of amused disbelief and genuine intrigue, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Alright, alright, you guys.” Sukuna drawled, glancing at the camera. “I gotta hand it to them—this track is… something. From you-know-who.” He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. “But seriously, 'why you so obsessed with me?' That track is pretty interesting.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing playfully. “That hook… damn, it’s catchy. I’m almost flattered, really. Almost.” He paused, his grin widening. “You really think I got a Napoleon complex, baby doll? Because last I checked, I was standing pretty tall.”

The comments exploded—hearts, fire emojis, and a flurry of messages from fans of both sides, hurling playful and not-so-playful insults. He knew you would be watching his broadcast. You leaned back in your chair, smirking as you watched him. The song had clearly gotten under his skin, just as you’d intended.

Sukuna’s grin faded slightly as he continued, “But let’s talk about some of those lines. ‘Last man on earth still couldn’t get this’? Ouch. You know that’s not true, baby doll.” 

Hesnickers, a mischievous gleam in his scarlet eyes. “Because if I remember correctly… you were the one who couldn’t stop staring at me from across the room just a while ago.”

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, but you kept your expression neutral. No way you’d give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words affected you. At least….You shake your head, continuing to drink your matcha drink. Not here, you think. It would be too obvious.

Sukuna leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “But seriously, props to you and your crew. You got everyone talking, and that’s what it’s all about, right?” He winked at the camera. “Now, I guess I’ll just have to come up with something to top it… and I will.”

He ended the Live with a cocky grin, and your phone buzzed again—a new message from your manager. “He’s biting. Good job. This is gonna blow up.”

Your drummer chuckled, “Did you see the way he was trying so hard not to laugh? He’s loving this just as much as we are.”

Your guitarist nodded, absently strumming a few chords. “Oh, he’s definitely going to come back with something. What’s the next move?”

You grinned, leaning forward, fingers tapping rhythmically on your knee. “Next move? We keep pushing. He wants a war, we’ll give him a war.”

Your bassist chimed in, “And if he’s obsessed, we’re gonna make sure he stays that way.”

The room burst into laughter, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. You had Sukuna’s attention, and you weren’t planning on letting go anytime soon. You stood up and put your drink away. “Alright, alright. Time to practice.”

A few hours later, as you were leaving the studio and headed for dinner with your bandmates, your phone buzzed again—a private message from Ryomen Sukuna himself.

“Nice track, baby doll. You got guts. But don’t think for a second this is over.”

You smirked at the screen, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you typed back a quick reply. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

With that, you hit send, knowing full well that this game of cat and mouse was far from over. The rivalry had taken on a life of its own, and you were ready to see it through to the end.

The days following the Instagram Live were a whirlwind of activity. The media coverage of your feud with Sukuna was relentless, and the buzz around both your diss track and Sukuna's playful response only grew louder. Your fans were eagerly waiting for the next move, while the anticipation among Sukuna's followers was palpable.

Your studio was buzzing with a new energy as your band prepared for the next stage of the rivalry. You were in a brainstorming session with your team, mapping out strategies and refining ideas. The stakes had never been higher, and everyone was determined to capitalize on the momentum.

As you reviewed some rough cuts of new material, your phone once more buzzed with a notification—a direct message from Sukuna on Instagram. You raised an eyebrow. Your curiosity piqued, and opened it to find a short video clip.

The video showed Sukuna lounging in his familiar and stylish, minimalistic apartment, the camera focused on his face. He had a relaxed, almost smug expression, and he started speaking directly to the camera.

“Hey, baby doll.” he began, his voice smooth and confident. “I see you’re still all fired up from our little game. Can’t say I’m surprised. But if you think you’ve got me cornered, you’re in for a surprise.”

He paused, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I’m working on something that’ll blow your track out of the water. Something special, just for you.” He leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a more intimate level. “And I promise, it’s going to make you rethink everything you thought you knew about this competition.”

Sukuna ended the video with a wink, and the message was signed with a flourish: “Yours truly, Sukuna.”

You chuckled, impressed by his confidence and intrigued by his hint. You knew this was only the beginning of a new round in your ongoing rivalry. You showed the video to your bandmates, and they were immediately excited. 

“Looks like Sukuna’s not holding back.” your drummer said, leaning over to get a better look. “What’s our move?”

You grinned, feeling the familiar thrill of competition. “We push the envelope even further. If he’s coming at us with something big, we need to be ready to top it. Let’s go all in.”

The team rallied, diving into planning and creative sessions with renewed vigor. Ideas were thrown around, debates sparked, and everyone was charged with the excitement of outdoing Sukuna. Later that evening, as you were reviewing the final mix of your new track, your phone buzzed again. 

It was another message from Sukuna, this time with a photo attached. It was a behind-the-scenes shot from his recording studio, showing him with headphones on, a focused expression on his face. The caption read: “Just a little preview of what’s coming your way. Can’t wait to see your reaction 😉”

You couldn’t help but smile. The rivalry was as thrilling as ever, and Sukuna’s antics only made it more engaging. You replied with a playful message: “Bring it on, Sukuna. We’re ready for whatever you’ve got.”

As you finished up for the night, you felt a rush of anticipation. The battle between you and Sukuna had transcended mere competition; it had become an electrifying dance, each of you pushing the other to new heights. And you were more than ready for the next move.

The stage lights cut through the darkness, bathing Sukuna in a dramatic, almost ethereal glow. The crowd roared with anticipation, their excitement palpable as they waited for Sukuna’s next performance. You were in the VIP section, surrounded by your bandmates, eyes fixed on the stage. The rivalry had reached a new peak, and tonight was the next chapter.

Sukuna appeared at the center of the stage, wearing a tailored black suit that accentuated his confident, charismatic presence. His expression was a mix of cocky assurance and playful challenge. He grabbed the microphone with an almost theatrical flair, and the band behind him struck up a powerful, bass-heavy beat.

He began to sing, his voice dripping with both charm and defiance. The lyrics were a direct response to your latest track, each line crafted to counter your words with his own brand of swagger and wit. 

“You think you’re clever with your little diss track, babe, 

But let me show you what I’ve got—watch me take it back. 

You throw punches in the dark, but I’m the light that blinds, 

Every move you make, every line you drop, I’m right behind.”

The crowd cheered, their energy feeding into Sukuna’s performance. His voice was smooth and commanding, each note perfectly delivered with an edge of playful arrogance. As the chorus hit, Sukuna took a moment to address the audience directly. He flashed a grin and winked in your direction, his eyes locking with yours for a brief, charged moment.

“And you think you know me? Think you’ve got my number? 

Watch me turn this game around, and watch you slumber. 

I’m the king of this stage, and you’re just a player, 

So step aside, baby doll, it’s time for a new layer.

Call me up, call me late, rumble some date.

Come on, be obsessed with me, get home late.”

The wink was truly unmistakable—a flirtatious, provocative gesture that carried both a challenge and a promise. You bit your lower lip. It was clear that Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just participating in this rivalry; he was fully immersed in it, relishing every moment and using it to his advantage.

Just as much, you also couldn’t help but be impressed, despite the competitive edge. The rest of his performance was electrifying, and Sukuna’s ability to blend his charm with his musical prowess only heightened the tension and excitement of your ongoing feud. 

As the song ended, Sukuna raised his arms in victory, soaking in the applause and cheers of his fans. He glanced over at you again, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. The crowd’s energy was palpable as they chanted Sukuna’s name, and you could feel the shift in the air—an unspoken understanding that this battle was far from over. 

You turned to your bandmates, a determined gleam in your eyes. “He’s got moves, no doubt about it. But we’ve got our own plans. Let’s give him something he won’t forget.”

══════════════════

YOU AGREED TO MEET UP IN HIS STUDIO. After all, you had a key to his studio. One of only two people, besides his manager. The echo of the door clicking shut behind you was the only sound in the dimly lit room.  The minute you stepped inside, a familiar hand grabbed your waist, spinning you around with a rough but playful urgency. You couldn’t help but feel adrenaline rush through you.

You looked up to see Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk inches from your face, his eyes dancing with mischief. You couldn’t help but bite your lips as he lets his attention stuck on you for a little while longer. He’d just gotten here after a long schedule today, that you knew. But he just couldn’t pass up this moment. He missed you, after all.

“You’ve really done it now, baby doll.” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "That track? You know it’s all anyone is talking about. Got my fans in a frenzy, and I can't say I'm not impressed."

You laughed, slipping your arms around his neck. “Wasn’t that the plan?” you whispered back, feeling his grip tighten possessively around your waist. “To keep everyone on their toes? To keep you on your toes?”

Sukuna’s smirk softened into something a little darker, a little more heated. “Oh, you’ve got me on my toes alright, baby doll.” he replied, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

You shivered at the feel of his breath against your skin, but you didn’t back down. “And you love every second of it, darling.” you shot back, daring him with your eyes. “Admit it, Sukuna. You like it when I push your buttons.”

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that sent a thrill through you. “Maybe I do, baby doll.” he admitted, nipping playfully at your earlobe. “Maybe I love watching you act all tough out there, throwing shade at me like you mean it. Gets my blood pumping.”

You tilted your head back, grinning up at him. “You think you’re the only one who gets a thrill out of this? Watching you strut around on stage, pretending you’re so unaffected…” You traced a finger along his jawline, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. “I know better. I see how you watch me.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening. “Oh, you’ve got no idea what I think when I’m up there, you know.” he growled, his lips brushing against yours, the air between you charged with electricity. “No idea how much I want to drag you off that stage and—”

You cut him off with a kiss, fierce and demanding, pouring every bit of the adrenaline still buzzing through your veins into the press of your lips against his. He responded instantly, kissing you back with a hunger that made your knees weak, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, until there was no space left between your bodies.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, panting slightly, foreheads resting against each other. “I knew you’d enjoy it, our little roleplay.” you whispered, your lips brushing his with every word. “I knew you’d love playing this game.”

Sukuna laughed softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Oh, it’s more than just a game, baby doll.” he murmured. “It’s our foreplay.” He grinned wickedly, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip. “Every line, every taunt, every verse… just getting me more worked up for moments like this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you leaned into his touch, your smile matching his. “So… what’s next?” you asked, teasingly. “Another diss track? Or are we moving on to something a little more… physical?”

He chuckled again, his lips brushing yours in the faintest of kisses. “Both, baby doll.” he whispered. “Always both. I’ll keep you on your toes, and you keep me guessing. That’s how this works, right?”

You nodded, feeling the thrill of his words spark through you. “You already know it well, darling.” you grinned at him, pulling him closer for another kiss, deeper this time, more intense. 

Because behind all the public drama, the mock insults, the fan wars and the staged battles, there was something real—a chemistry, a connection, that neither of you could resist. No one else knows, and they didn’t have to. Because that’s what makes it fun, that’s what gets you hot, high for him. 

This elaborate game of rivals was just another way for you and Sukuna to both express that pull, that irresistible need to keep challenging each other, to keep pushing each other’s buttons in every way possible. And you knew, as he did, that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

As Sukuna’s lips moved against yours, his kiss deepening with a fervent intensity, you felt the world around you blur into a haze of desire and adrenaline. His hands roamed possessively over your body, each touch a reminder of the raw, unfiltered connection that existed between you.

The heat of his skin, the firm grip of his hands, and the way he pressed you closer only heightened the sensation that this was more than just a physical encounter—it was an embodiment of the fierce rivalry and undeniable attraction that had been building between you two.

The way his fingers traced your curves, his touch both commanding and tender, spoke volumes. It was as if he was claiming you, not just in the heat of the moment but in a way that was deeply intertwined with the ongoing battle of wits and passion you both were engaged in. The contrast between his rough, assertive touch and the gentle caresses created a whirlwind of emotions, each sensation adding to the already charged atmosphere.

As you pull back slightly, your breaths mingling, Sukuna’s gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark with a mix of satisfaction and challenge. His smirk, still present, held a promise of more to come—more battles, more games, and an unspoken agreement that this was only the beginning of an exhilarating journey. For a moment, you think you fell in love deeper with him again.

The gradual approach of his fingertips was a slow, tantalizing tease, each moment stretched out with the deliberate pace of someone who knew exactly how to build anticipation. You could feel the heat from his touch even before his fingers made full contact, the mere thought of what was to come causing your breath to hitch and your body to respond eagerly.

As his fingers inched closer, their warmth and the promise of what lay ahead created a growing sense of urgency and need. The gentle caress of his fingertips, as they brushed against your inner thighs, was both intimate and assertive, a clear indication of his intent. The friction was electric, a stark contrast to the cool air around you, amplifying every sensation as his touch grew more purposeful.

You could feel his breath against your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine. His eyes, locked onto yours with an intense focus, conveyed both a challenge and a deep-seated desire. The way he watched you, his gaze dark and smoldering, only added to the overwhelming allure of the moment.

His fingers finally made contact with your womanhood, the touch both delicate and firm, exploring with a confident familiarity. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and anticipation as his fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles, teasing and testing. Each stroke was designed to elicit a response, to push you further into a state of heightened arousal.

A satisfied smirk curled on Sukuna’s lips, his eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of pride and desire. “You know it don’t you, hm?” he growled, his voice rough with arousal. “No one else can touch you like this, no one else can make you feel what I do.”

His words were a taunt and a promise, each thrust a reminder of the exclusive, raw connection between you. “You need this, don’t you?” he continued, his voice low and seductive. “You need me to push you, to make you feel every inch of me.”

Your breath hitched, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a moan slipped from your lips. He was relentless, and he knew it, his movements intentional and powerful, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“Admit it, baby doll.” Sukuna demanded, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Admit that no one else can make you feel this way.”

You bit back a moan, your head tilting back as you fought for control, but the way he looked at you, the way he moved against you—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. “You… you’re so full of yourself, darling.” you managed to gasp, though the quiver in your voice betrayed how much he was getting to you.

Sukuna chuckled darkly, his breath hot against your skin. “Maybe.” he murmured, his lips grazing your neck, his teeth nipping at your pulse. “But you like that about me, don’t you? You like the way I take control… the way I make you lose yourself.”

As Sukuna’s breath grew heavier, mingling with yours, he leaned in closer, the heat of his body was all too much for you. His eyes, locked onto yours, held a smoldering intensity that combined both dominance and a profound passion. The teasing brush of his fingers, so close to your most intimate area, sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fiery need that built with every second.

When you finally released a groan escaping your lips, you held him tightly, your body trembling with the intensity of the moment. Sukuna’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and approval.

“You really get a load of it when it’s good, don’t you?” he teased, his voice low and filled with a playful edge. His tone was both confident and affectionate, the snicker that followed underscoring the satisfaction he felt in having pushed you to such a heightened state.

Sukuna’s words hung in the air, a provocative mix of satisfaction and challenge. His fingers continued their gentle, lingering caress, prolonging the aftershocks of your release. The smirk on his face was unmistakable—a blend of triumph and deep-seated affection that he only reserved for moments like these.

“You know, baby doll..." he said, his voice softening to a more intimate tone. “it’s not just about getting a reaction. It’s about knowing how much you need this—how much you crave every bit of it.” His hand moved with deliberate, gentle strokes, still teasing, ensuring that the aftermath was as intense as the build-up.

You looked up at him, breathless and flushed, meeting his gaze with a mix of desire and exhaustion. The connection between you two felt palpable, a mix of competition and passion that seemed to define every interaction.

“Is that so?” you managed to reply, your voice hoarse but laced with playful defiance. “And what makes you think you’re the only one who can bring me to that edge?”

Sukuna’s eyes sparkled with mischief, his lips curving into an even broader smile. “Oh, I don’t think I’m the only one. But I do like to think that I’m the best at it. There’s something about our… little games that just makes everything so much more exhilarating.”

He pulled you closer, his breath warm against your ear. “And you love it. Every second of it. The highs, the lows, the rivalry... it’s all part of the thrill.”

You shivered at his words, the heat of his body and the intimacy of the moment amplifying the connection between you. His touch was a constant reminder of the dynamic between you two—a blend of passion, competition, and mutual desire that made every encounter both electrifying and deeply personal.

As the intensity of the moment began to wane, Sukuna’s touch softened, and he held you close, his hand resting possessively on your lower back. The playful glint in his eyes remained, but there was also a deeper sense of satisfaction, as if the night had cemented something unspoken between you two.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep this up, you know?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

He starts to emphasize his words, his voice low and commanding, as he enters you with a slow, deliberate thrust that sends a shudder through your entire body. Each movement is precise, calculated, as if he wants to draw out every sensation, making sure you feel the intensity of him.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens reflexively, your nails scraping against his skin, leaving faint trails in their wake. The contact seems to please him, a low, almost primal growl escaping from his throat, vibrating through his chest and into yours.

The warmth between you both intensifies, the heat of the moment engulfing you. It’s stifling, but you crave more of it, each moment more consuming than the last. Your mind, once racing with scattered thoughts, is now empty, surrendered entirely to the sensations overwhelming you.

Every nerve is alive, tuned to the rhythm of his body against yours. As Sukuna pushes deeper, your world narrows to the singular, undeniable reality of him filling you completely. It’s overwhelming, exhilarating, and you’re lost in the sheer intensity of it. All that exists is him, inside you, and the way your body responds to every movement he makes.

“Say it, baby doll.” he insisted, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to send a sharp thrill through you. “Say you need me.”

Your heart pounded with thunderous applause, and for a moment, you hesitated, the words caught in your throat. But the way he looked at you, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, pulled the confession from your lips.

“I… I need you, darling.” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, your body arching against his, craving more. “I need you, Sukuna. All of you.”

A satisfied grin spread across his face, his hold on you tightening as he captured your lips in a fierce, claiming kiss. “That’s right.” he murmured against your mouth, his voice thick with desire. “Only me. Always me.”

And with that, he moved with renewed intensity, each deep thrust and touch a declaration, a challenge, a promise that you were his—and that no one else could ever come close to what the two of you had. He was good, he was good at making you feel like this. 

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your shoulders, down the curve of your spine—each kiss a mark, a reminder that this, whatever it was between you, was uniquely yours. Every gasp, every moan he drew from you only seemed to fuel him more, his movements becoming more fervent, more determined to prove his point.

And you couldn’t help but revel in it—the way he knew your body, the way he knew exactly how to drive you to the edge and pull you back, just to see the need in your eyes grow stronger.

“You love it, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “You love the way I make you feel… the way I take you apart and put you back together again.”

You could only nod, lost in the rhythm of his movements, the intensity of his gaze, the heat that built between you. Because he was right—there was something about the way he touched you, the way he pushed you, that no one else could ever replicate. And in that moment, with his hands on your skin and his voice in your ear, you knew that you were exactly where you wanted to be.

He continued with a deliberate rhythm, his movements precise and relentless. You could feel the intensity building, every touch and motion sending waves of sensation coursing through you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, a mix of pleasure and the sheer force of his actions. He always knew how to push you to the edge, how to test your limits, and tonight was no different.

Each thrust was a carefully measured challenge, a dance of dominance and submission that left you breathless, gasping for air yet craving more. The friction between you was electric, sparking and crackling like a live wire, building with every moment until you felt like you might burst from the sheer pressure of it.

Sukuna’s eyes never left yours, a dark, consuming gaze that seemed to see right through you, drinking in every reaction, every gasp and shiver. “You feel that?” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. “That’s what happens when you get me riled up and excited, baby doll.”

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat, your body trembling under his touch. He was relentless, every motion a reminder of his strength, his intensity, and the unique connection that bound you together. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, the kind of sensation that left you dizzy and reeling, your heart pounding in your chest.

But beneath the raw physicality, there was something more—a deep, unspoken understanding, a bond that neither of you could deny. His touch wasn’t just about possession or power; it was about claiming you in a way that no one else ever could. And in his eyes, you could see the same need reflected back at you, a hunger that matched your own.

“Tell me, baby doll.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Tell me you feel it too.”

“I feel it, darling.” you whispered, your voice breaking with the intensity of the moment, your hands gripping his arms as if anchoring yourself to him. “I always feel it… with you.”

A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze softening for just a moment, a flicker of something almost tender beneath the heat. “Good, good…” he said softly. “Because I’m not letting you go. Not now… not ever.”

And with those words, he moved with renewed determination, his hands tightening on your hips, his body pressing closer, as if trying to fuse the two of you together. The rhythm between you became more frantic, more desperate, as if neither of you could get enough, as if the very air between you was charged with the electricity of everything left unsaid.

The world around you faded, until there was nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his breath against your skin. And in that moment, you knew that whatever games you played in public, whatever battles you waged on stage, nothing could compare to this. To the way he made you feel, to the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

And as the pleasure built to a fever pitch, you surrendered to the sensation, letting it take you over completely, knowing that with Sukuna, you would always find yourself right back where you belonged—in his arms, in his gaze, lost in the heat of this dangerous, undeniable connection.

Your bodies moved in perfect synchrony, a rhythm known only to the two of you. Sukuna’s grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you of his presence, his power. His breath was hot against your neck, each word he whispered sending a fresh wave of heat through your veins.

"You're mine. Only mine." he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with conviction. "No one else gets to have this… to have you like this." His words sent a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone both thrilling and comforting in its intensity.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark desire and something deeper—something that made your heart clench in your chest. "You think anyone else could handle you?" he taunted, a sly grin spreading across his lips. "Handle us?"

You couldn’t help but smile back, despite the breathless state he had you in. "N–no one." you managed to reply, your voice a whisper, yet full of certainty. "No one else would even come close. Only you.”

His grin widened at your words, his eyes lighting up with that familiar mix of pride and satisfaction. "Damn right." he said, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, almost tender gesture before capturing them in a fierce kiss. “Only me.”

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, the air between you charged with an intensity that was almost palpable. "We could do this forever, you know," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his expression suddenly serious. "Keep pretending, keep pushing each other… but you and I both know the truth."

You looked up at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his gaze. "And what's that truth, Sukuna?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against yours as he spoke. "That no matter what happens on stage, no matter what anyone else thinks… this is real. What we have… it’s real."

For a moment, all the bravado, all the games, all the theatrics fell away, and it was just the two of you, standing at the edge of something deeper, something more profound. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of rightness settling in your bones. "Yeah, of course." you whispered back, your hand finding its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. "It’s real."

And as his lips met yours again, this time slower, more deliberate, you knew that whatever this was—rivalry, love, obsession—it was something you wouldn't trade for anything in the world. Because with Sukuna, every line blurred, every touch sparked, and every word spoken between you felt like the beginning of a song only the two of you knew the lyrics to.

A song that, no matter how many verses you added, would never truly end.

══════════════════

epilogue 

The social media buzz had been relentless since the rivalry between you and Sukuna had begun. Fans and media alike were glued to every update, eagerly dissecting every new development in your ongoing feud. It was a carefully crafted spectacle, each move calculated for maximum impact. But what came next was entirely unexpected.

Sukuna was known for his bold, often controversial social media presence, but this latest post took things to a whole new level.

The photo he shared was striking and intimate—a mirror selfie in which Sukuna stood with his back to the camera, his muscular body on full display. In front of him, you were barely visible, your form concealed mostly by his arm, his body strategically positioned to cover you. The image was provocative, suggesting an intimacy that had never been publicly acknowledged before.

The caption, simple yet loaded, read: “My baby doll likes excitement.”

The post exploded across the internet. Fans, already used to the charged tension between you two, were stunned into silence before erupting into a frenzy of speculation and excitement. The comments section was a whirlwind of reactions, from shock to adoration, as people tried to make sense of this unexpected revelation.

At first, there was a stunned silence from your side. You were sitting in your living room, scrolling through your feed, when you saw the post. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the image and the caption. The boldness of it was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

Minutes later, your phone buzzed with notifications. Your own social media accounts were flooded with messages, your fans reaching out with a mix of curiosity and support. Some were confused, others were jubilant, but everyone was talking about it.

You decided it was time to respond, and you crafted a post that acknowledged the new development without backing down from the playful rivalry. You shared a photo from one of your concerts, the stage lights casting a dramatic glow.

Your hands were littering towards his naked chest while you were dressed on your stage outfit. He came to visit you and well....had fun in your waiting room. You added a caption: “Guess Sukuna’s not the only one who likes a little excitement. See you on stage, my darling.”

Sukuna’s reaction was swift and equally bold. He replied to your post with a comment: “Looking forward to it. Let’s see who can keep the audience more entertained.”

The exchange between you two set the internet alight. The combination of intimacy and competition only fueled the frenzy, turning your personal revelation into the hottest topic of the moment.

Behind the scenes, the two of you found solace in the chaos, a private celebration of your bold move. When you next met, the atmosphere was charged with a new kind of excitement. 

Sukuna greeted you with a grin that spoke volumes. “Well, that certainly stirred things up, hm?” he said, pulling you into a fierce hug.

You laughed, your heart racing with the thrill of it all. “You’ve got that right.” you replied, looking up at him with a smile. “But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Ready for the next round?”

You looked into his eyes, a mix of challenge and affection in your gaze. “Always.” you whispered back. And with that, you both knew that whatever came next, it would be just as exhilarating and unpredictable as the ride you were already on.

[inkpetrichor]

The quiet passenger | Aone Takanobu x f!reader

cw. timeskip aone. tooth rotting fluff. leg injury. mentions of back and feet pain. i think that's all but lemme know if i missed anything! wc. 2.2k an. i used to work as a wheelchair asistant and i had a passenger once who was huge but quiet as a mouse. he didn't say anything at all, but he bought me a water bottle and left a great tip. that lovely stranger inspired this uvu. enjoy<3 comments are always appreciated <3

Being a wheelchair assistant wasn’t an easy job.

For starters, you had to know the international airport like the back of your hand—and the place was massive. During your first few days, you got lost more than once, wandering past terminals that all looked the same and double-checking signs until your feet ached.

Airports carried a heavy kind of energy. Maybe it was the sheer number of people coming and going, the tension in their steps when traveling for work, or the chaos before the calm of those heading off on vacation. Whatever the reason, no one came to relax at an airport. It was a rite of passage—liminal, noisy, and impatient. A place that would take you where you needed to go, but never gently.

Pushing wheelchairs around added its own weight. Most of your passengers were elderly—either very sweet or very cranky—and almost always heavier than you. The wheels helped lighten the load—when they rolled properly—but it was still a daily strain on your legs and back.

The man you’d just dropped off at his gate had spent the entire ride ranting about "kids these days," unloading decades of pent-up frustration while you nodded with a polite smile and prayed for a good tip. 

No thanks, no tip. Just your aching feet and another tight-lipped "Have a good flight."

Your lower back throbbed in protest, and your fake smile had begun to fray at the edges. A stubborn strand of hair kept slipping from your bun into your eyes, and you didn’t have time to fix it properly, so you kept puffing it back in place with a huff.

It was a hard day. 

But alas—we persevere.

You headed back to the main counter to pick up your next passenger.

Then you saw him.

Short white hair. Tall. Broad. Intimidating in the way an avalanche might be—slow-moving but unstoppable. His leg was in a thick white cast, barely fitting into the footrest of the loaner wheelchair. He stood awkwardly beside the counter, towering over the staff, his hands curled tightly into the sleeves of his hoodie. Eyes down. Shoulders drawn in. Silent.

"Oh! Here she is," your coworker said. "She’ll take you to your gate."

Don’t let him intimidate you, you told yourself, wheeling the chair toward him. You took the boarding pass the staff handed you and scanned it with practiced ease.

Aone Takanobu. Boarding in thirty minutes. Tight window.

"Aone Takanobu-san?"

His head lifted, and his eyes—cool, pale gray—met yours. He nodded.

"Hi! I’m your assistant today. We’ll get you to your gate in no time. Just hop on and leave the rest to me, okay?"

Aone looked down at the wheelchair, then back at you.

You could see it in his face—the hesitation. At nearly twice your width and with legs that stretched a mile, he clearly wasn’t thrilled about being pushed around by someone your size. He opened his mouth like he might object.

You smiled wider and winked. "I promise, I do this for a living. You're not my first mountain today."

That earned the faintest hint of color at the tips of his ears. But he sat down, slow and stiff, muttering something like a gruff "…okay."

You set off, weaving through the crowd. His silence stretched between you, and after a few minutes, you tried to bridge the gap.

"So… rough injury?" you asked, keeping your tone light, careful not to pry too much. "What happened?"

A pause. His gaze stayed fixed ahead.

"Volleyball," he said at last, voice low and flat.

You perked up. "Oh! I used to play a little back in school. Are you a wing spiker? No, I guess middle blocker, right?"

He didn’t answer. Just grunted. Could’ve been yes. Could’ve been no.

You tried again. "Are you traveling for recovery? Or..."

Nothing.

As you steered around a loud tour group, that same rogue strand of hair slipped free again and tickled the corner of your eye. You puffed upward to try and blow it out of your face, but it clung stubbornly to your temple. With one hand on the wheelchair, you tried tucking it back behind your ear, only for it to fall again seconds later.

You sighed under your breath. "Stupid thing…"

You wheeled him the rest of the way to his gate in silence. He didn’t say much, didn’t smile or joke like other passengers, but he wasn’t rude. Just… reserved. Maybe shy. Still, it stung a little to feel like your attempts at conversation had fallen flat.

Another no-tip ride I guess, you thought.

Then, without warning, he startled you by sharply pointing to the side.

You followed the gesture to a nearby convenience stall. "Do you want to stop there?"

He nodded. And that was how you ended up parked outside the stall while he limped in. You watched him pick up a bottle of water. Then another. A can of iced tea. A protein bar. A pack of chocolate-covered almonds. A bag of salty rice crackers. A snap hair clip?

You tilted your head. Maybe he’s visiting someone?

When he returned, arms full of snacks, you chuckled. "Got enough for your travel buddies?"

He didn’t respond. Just handed you the bag as he sat back down.

But you noticed the ears again—tinged with soft pink.

You turned the last corner and saw the gate.

"Finally," you whispered, then let out a long sigh as you checked the screen. 

Delayed.

Your shoulders slumped.

Aone looked up at you, his expression calm but curious.

Without a word, he patted the seat beside him—big hand gentle, deliberate. An unspoken offer.

It wasn’t until then that you realized how much you’d been shifting from foot to foot—your thighs were aching, your calves tight from standing for so long.

You blinked. "You sure?"

He patted again. Once. Firm.

So you sat, sighing again as you rolled your ankles beneath you.

Without a word, he reached into the plastic bag and handed you the water bottle. Then the iced tea.

You looked at him, surprised. "For me? Really?"

He didn’t look back, just nodded once. You watched as he swallowed, jaw flexing as if embarrassed.

"…Thanks," you said softly.

Your fingers brushed his as you took the bottle.

Both of you froze for a second.

Then blushed, looking away from eachother.

The silence between you changed. It wasn't awkward anymore—it was warm. Tentative.

When you let out a third sigh, he shifted in his seat and finally spoke again.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Was I too heavy?"

You shook your head fast enough to feel your bun bounce. "Not at all! Just… long day. You were the nicest person I’ve had to assist today."

He looked at you, brows gently drawing in and tilting his head, as if asking you to elaborate.

That look made you talk. Maybe it was the honesty in his eyes. Maybe it was the way he truly listened as you talked about cranky passengers, impossible schedules, and a micromanaging supervisor who barked more than he spoke.

He nodded occasionally, eyes never leaving your face.

You tried once more to tuck the stubborn strand of hair behind your ear. It slipped loose again, falling right back into your face.

You sighed, a quiet groan slipping out. "Stupid thing won’t stay put…"

Before you could fuss with it again, Aone leaned in.

His movement was slow, deliberate—but gentle. His large hand came up, and with surprising care, he brushed the strand from your cheek. You barely had time to process the warmth of his fingers before he clicked something into place.

The snap of the hair clip was soft, but the breath you held was loud in your ears.

Your fingers went to your temple, brushing over the little accessory, still warm from his touch. "You… got this for me?"

He nodded. Slowly. Earnestly.

Your chest tightened.

"Why...?"

Then, just as you were starting to breathe again, you caught it—barely a shift, but enough to see. A soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Fleeting. Gentle. Real.

And somehow, in a cold metal chair at a delayed gate in the middle of a noisy airport, the world narrowed to that smile, that gesture—and the quiet flutter of your heart skipping a beat.

Maybe he didn’t say much.

But he didn’t need to.

The sound of rowdy footsteps echoed before you saw them—four or five tall figures in matching jackets, lugging duffel bags and speaking loud enough to turn heads in the terminal.

Aone looked up.

"Aone? Dude, what the hell?" one of them called. "How’d you beat us here?!"

Another stepped forward, gaping. "Your assistant must have been lightning fast!"

Then they saw you.

There was a beat.

"Oh." The first one grinned. "She’s pretty too."

Your face lit up in a blush. You gave a small, awkward wave. Aone’s own face was suddenly pink to the ears, eyes locking on the floor like it might save him from spontaneous combustion.

The team filed into the seating area, slumping into the chairs around you both. You stayed seated beside Aone, hands folded in your lap, trying not to look too overwhelmed. It was hard, surrounded by giants and the buzz of conversation.

Most of them talked around Aone, as though used to his quiet presence. He offered only the occasional nod, sometimes a soft grunt. You noticed his hand subtly opening one of the snack bags—the chocolate almonds.

One of his teammates reached to grab a few.

Without a word, Aone jerked the bag away from him.

The teammate blinked.

Aone turned to you instead, holding out the snack bag in your direction.

You paused, looked up at him for a second.

He nodded, eyes careful but full of quiet intent.

You smiled softly and took a few. "Thanks."

The teammate who’d been reaching blinked again. Then grinned.

"Oh I see how it is."

Aone’s ears turned an even deeper red.

The rest of the team took the hint, leaning back and chatting among themselves as you and Aone sat a little closer, quietly sharing the snack bag between you.

Your hands brushed occasionally whenever you reached for the almonds at the same time. At first, he would pull back quickly, but each time, a little less so—lingering, as if savoring the brief contact. You found yourself doing the same, fingers slowing just enough to meet his halfway.

A few minutes passed before Aone shifted beside you. He pulled out his phone—huge in his hand—and opened the contact screen. Then, without looking directly at you, he held it out, thumb hovering nervously at the corner.

"If you…" He paused. Swallowed. "If you don’t mind."

His face was tomato red.

You blinked, then smiled. "Of course not."

Your hands brushed as you took the phone. You typed in your name and number, heart skipping when you saved it. When you handed it back, his fingers curled around it like it was the most important thing in the world.

Before either of you could say more, the overhead speaker crackled.

"Flight 1308 to Sendai, now boarding through Gate B07."

You stood and turned to Aone. "Ready?"

He nodded, and his teammates stood too, stretching and adjusting their bags.

You moved behind his chair, beginning to push him toward the gate. The boarding bridge connected to the jetway, but you knew from experience—there was a small dent in the ramp. Enough to require a lift over the lip.

"Here, we’ll help," one of the guys offered, already stepping forward.

You just smiled. "Thanks. I got it."

Then, in one smooth motion, you felt the muscles in your back and legs strain a little, but you angled the chair just right and lifted Aone over the dent like he weighed nothing more than a duffel bag.

Aone’s teammates blinked.

"Dude."

"Did she just—?"

You only laughed under your breath and kept pushing forward. Aone glanced back at you, stunned, and maybe—maybe—a little impressed.

You escorted him all the way to the aircraft door. The flight attendants gave you a nod of thanks as you came to a stop. Aone looked up at you, then quietly reached into his hoodie pocket.

He pulled out a bill and placed it gently in your palm, but didn’t let go right away. His hands—warm, massive, careful—curled around yours for a moment longer than necessary.

You looked up at him.

"Text me," you said softly, smiling.

He nodded once, firm and sincere. "I will."

His hands lingered—a silent promise—before he finally turned and limped toward the plane. His teammates closed in around him, offering support.

You could already hear their voices drifting back through the jetway.

"Yo, was that a smile?"

"Since when does Aone smile?"

"Dude, we just witnessed an origin story."

There was a low, muffled grumble—definitely him.

You stayed where you were. The plane door began to close.

But just before it sealed shut, Aone turned back.

He looked right at you.

And smiled—a real, bright, breathtaking smile that softened all the sharp lines of his face.

Then, as if he’d rehearsed it a thousand times in his head, he lifted one large hand—

—and gave you a shy, careful wave goodbye.

Your breath caught. You bit your lip, smiling back so hard your cheeks hurt.

God. You were so in trouble.

my masterlist♡

[evis-gossip]

His mission. Part 2: Wake up

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Categories: Light angst, fluff, mostly hurt/comfort, almost sick fic

Warnings: Protective! Ghost (almost possessive). Talk of commas and unconsciousness. No use of Y/N. Allusions to long hair and small body. Hospital setting. Ghostie’s in his feels, I fear. MC speaks briefly of loosing their family and so does Simon.

Word count: 1k words

A/N: Guess what? We’re back babes. I did a little more research for this one and so it’s a little longer. MC is explicitly female in this one, sorry babes. I acknowledge that so far it has been faily platonic, but it's gonna start getting romantic soon. I can't help but want to eat this man up.

Part 1: He had you - Masterlist

Simon hadn’t moved and inch away from your bed.

Johnny had just brought him a change of clothes, jeans and a jumper. Simple, but most importantly, not tactical gear. Nothing bulletproof, cammo, sharp or particularly practical. Just something comfortable that’d make you feel easier in his presence. In any other case he wouldn’t have cared about clothes, but he did now. He wanted to look presentable for when you finally woke up.

Believing you would wake up at any second, he made Soap stand watch over you while he changed in the hospital rest room. And when he came back at super speed, fully believing you must’ve woken up after the less than 5 minutes he was gone, he was utterly disappointed when you didn’t. He had your safety first thing in his mind, but he just wanted you to wake up already. He had so many questions. Like for starters, what was your name? He wanted to know everything about you, but he couldn’t know anything without even enough to utter your name and went right back to sleep, then that would be enough to get someone to find intel on you. At least then he could let you rest while he studied your history. They even tried your fingerprints. But no such luck.

He should be grateful the doctor hadn’t proclaimed you comatose, just unconscious, just resting. But to be honest with himself, he was getting greedy, he wanted more. He needed to know what the hell was it that made you feel so safe in his presence? Why did the old bloke feel so protective over you? Maybe because your delicate features made you look so angelic, or because you had felt so soft and small in his arms. But he forbade himself from thinking those thoughts over an unconscious woman he knew nothing about. He didn’t even know how old you were and still he wanted to haul you up in his arms.

Simon hadn’t slept in almost a week. Ever since he found you, he hadn’t slept a wink. He spent all that time looking into you face, inspecting every feature, every freckle. And he was a soldier, he could keep himself awake for 72, no caffeine, imagine with. But after all that time, sleep was starting to catch up with him. Your steady heart beat on the monitor was starting to lull him to sleep.

He didn’t notice his head falling to the side of the bed, nudging your knee, right next to your limp hand. Not the most comfortable position to fall asleep in. Delete Created with Sketch.

When he woke up, something was tickling his forehead. He opened his eyes with a groan to find out that something were your fingers lightly trying to graze his skin. He sat up so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. When he looked into your face, you’re eyelashes were fluttering so slightly he might as well have dreamed it. He wanted to caress you face gently and brush away the strands of hair, but instead took your fingers in his hand and traced your fingernails, willing you to wake up.

As much as he had eagerly will you to arise, he now had to face the reality of it. What if you didn’t even speak English? That was a very real possibility. And what if you had amnesia and didn’t even remember your name? He eagerly watched you wake up nonetheless, swallowing his own questions for later. Your head tilted to the side and your eyelids scrunched tighter one last time before you opened them with a whine.

“Hey luv” he smiled softly, not like the beast baring his teeth he’s used to being “Hmm, brit, eh?” “That’s right” he sighed looking at your face. That was the first thing he ever heard you say, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find your voice otherworldly. He’d do anything to keep you talking. You looked so peaceful and far better than how he found you, but he needed to know " What’s yer name, luv? Can’t find yer family wit’out it” You tilted your head to your side, avoiding the question completely, tears filling your water line “Sh sh sh” He cooed gently as got closer, cupping your face tenderly “Yer don’t gotta talk if yer ain’t ready” Simon looked into your eyes and felt himself fighting to stay above water instead of drowning in them. You whispered your name before breaking into tears. “They’re all gone. ‘Is only me now” You sobbed your heart out, leaning into his arms and Simon found himself finally gathering you up to his chest again. He kept repeating in his head that it was all to calm you down, but truth was, he enjoyed having you so close, even if you were crying hysterically.

He rubbed your back soothingly softly beckoning you to calm down. He understood. He didn’t have anyone else left either, but he was not about to let you feel the same way he did, not when you just woke up after being held hostage for god knows how long. He’d be there for you. When your crying slowed down to soft sniffles, he laid you down on the bed again, right before nurses flooded the room to check you up after waking up. A little more conscious than the previous time, you scurried away from them and crawled to the safety of Simon’s warm embrace. And he held you tight. It was conflicting really. To feel so protective over someone so vulnerable. Almost possessive. Like an incessant need to keep you all to himself.

He was glad you had woken up and started to talk. He was even more pleased when you fell back asleep clutching the fabric of his jumper, nuzzling into his chest again. This time he did not put you back in bed, but instead pulled the blanket over your small frame and sat back, letting you sleep peacefully in the cradle of his arms.

Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!!!! <333

[sturnioz]

hey

wait

what about

mechanic!matt…………..he been told you to get rid of your car but you don’t have the money for it, the uni semester has already been off to a chaotic start, and PLUS it was a gift from your grandpa on your 18th :(

i lowkey kinda fucked up this req and changed it a bit cos i struggled to write it :| i wrote meeting mechanic!matt for the first time instead my bad my bad my bad. but welcome mechanic!matt <3

you're freaking out.

you're freaking out so bad you're teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown, overwhelmed by a storm of emotions as you stand in the middle of the auto repair shop.

you've been so stressed; your new semester had a chaotic start, your classes keeping you unbelievably busy. to make matters worse, you've also had a painful falling out with your best friend, the kind of rift that feels like a gaping wound. on top of that, you recent breakup still fucking stings and you feel like you're going to throw up every time you cross paths.

and now, as if the universe is conspiring against you, your car has betrayed you, refusing to start in the middle of the road when you were on your way home. (the embarrassment of having to call a tow truck had only made it worse).

the constant sounds of clanging metal and the low hum of machinery surrounds you, gnawing at your nerves, overstimulating you. you close your eyes and rub your temples, desperately trying to block out the flickering overhead lights that create disorientating flashes behind your eyelids.

the air was thick too, heavy with the scent of motor oil and burnt rubber, a pungent reminder of your current predicament that makes your stomach churn with nausea, and you feel an overwhelming urge to escape, to bolt out the fucking door and leave this place behind.

but you can't.

you can't abandon your car — your baby, a precious gift from your grandpa.

with a deep breath, you peel your eyes open, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you scan the bustling shop for the beefy man who greeted you when you first arrived. you're desperate for answers, anxious to find out if your car is truly fucked.

oh god, you wanted to cry. the thought of the repair costs makes you stomach twist. how much money will you have to spend? money that you don't even have. panic instantly washes over you.

you're screwed. you're done. you're hopeless. you're—

"hey," a voice jolts you from your spiralling thoughts, and you snap around, bracing yourself to confront the man you were searching for, but instead, you're taken aback by someone completely different.

he stands before you, hair tousled, strands falling over his light blue eyes. he's wearing a snug black tank top and dark blue overalls, the sleeves casually wrapped around his slim waist, showcasing a patchwork tattooed arm. his hands are smeared with grease and oil, evidence of a long day spent working on cars, and he nonchalantly twirls a wrench around his finger while chewing gum, casualness radiating from him as he stares at you.

"how bad is she?" you dare to ask, your voice trembles slightly, a mix of fear and hope surfacing in your chest.

the corner of his lips twitches slightly at your words before he begins. "she's not doin' too good." your heart sinks, a lump forming in your throat as you brace yourself for what's coming. "for starters, your battery is dead, but there's some damage done to the ignition system too... s'likely that the stater's shot, and the alternator needs replacing too."

you swallow hard, the reality of the situation hits you like a punch in the gut, and the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy fog. "how... how much are we talking?"

"could be a couple hundred for the battery 'n starter, maybe more dependin' on what else i find when i dig deeper," his fingers rhythmically tap against the wrench in his hands, chewing his gum slowly as he admits, "not gonna lie t'you, sweetheart — s'not gonna be cheap."

"fuck," another wave of panic rises within you, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you feel so helpless. "i uh, i don't, i.. i can't, i—"

"hey," he says again, his voice steady and soothing as he gets your attention. your watery eyes snap to his when you feel his hand touch your shoulder gently. you don't even care about the grease and oil staining your shirt right now. "take a deep breathe, yeah? in and out. eeeeasy."

you nod quickly, following his instructions, inhaling deeply through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, trying to regain control over the rapid beating of your heart. your skin feels clammy, and your head is fuzzy, but his calm demeanour seems to help anchor you.

"there we go.. that's it," he hums softly, squeezing your arm as he nods in approval. "now, talk t'me. slowly."

"i... i can't afford it," you whisper defeatedly. "i don't have a job right now, i can't. i don't know how i'm going to pay for all this."

he studies you quietly for a moment, his gaze shifting from concern to something more contemplative. "we can figure somethin' out... sellin' the parts might be—"

"no!" you blurt out, shaking your head sharply. the suddenness of your response catches him off guard, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise at your defiance. "i'm sorry, i... i can't sell it."

he lifts his hand to scratch at his cheek, squinting his eyes as he processes your reaction. "you uh, y'not makin' this easy, sweetheart—"

"i know, but i can't sell it," you insist with a soft sigh. "it means a lot to me.. please? is there another way?"

he studies you again, standing in silence, and you hold his gaze, hoping he'll come up with a solution. you watch as he takes a step closer, lowering his voice as if he's sharing a secret.

"what if.. we work somethin' out?" he suggests. "i'll uh, i'll fix your car for cheap — maybe for nothin' if you do somethin' for me?"

"what are you suggesting?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

he grins, revealing his pearly whites as he chews his gum, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as if he hadn't just proposed something so serious and sudden. he doesn't answer you, which makes you prompt the question again, and he keeps the grin on his face as he turns and walks further into the shop, casting a glance over his shoulder at you, a silent invitation to follow him.

[https-immotmari]

❝ But I can't help myself when you get close to me ❞ ─── pjsk boys!

WRITER'S STARTER NONSENSE!

first request, yahey!(❁´◡`❁) and I should probably put request open for anyone getting confused if I'm open for requests or not. Also, I don't know if you want romantic or platonic so I'm doing romantic if you don't mind ^^* cute username and pfp btw!

fandom! .project sekai character(s) used! .akito shinonome, toya aoyagi, tsukasa tenma and rui kamishiro gender of reader! .gn!reader head start! .mention of toya's dad🤢

. . .akito shinonome!

dude is perplexed the moment you snake your arms around him. It's like he hasn't been given affection (he's touch-starved)

he should have known the first time he met you, you were as bubbly as bubbles from the powerpuff girls, or even more, and just like that, you've been a daydream and nightmare to him.

back when you two were friends, you kept it minimal such as asking for his permission whenever you want to hug him and even then, akito was, and still is, a flustered mess that it gets to the point that his brain is filled with you and you alone.... okay, maybe a bit of toya but, that's a bit, kay?

now that you two are a thing thanks to an, kohane and toya, you "innocently" used the knowledge you have to make this man a mess. as you should tbh

like, run your fingers through his hair while you're cuddling him, and HE'LL MELT FASTER THAN HE CAN RAP

only in private though, when you two are out in public and you feel the urge of cuddling him there and then, he can shyly give you a side hug for now.

like, poor baby is getting multiple heart attacks whenever you just pop out and immediately attacking him with your cuddly self.

when in private though, you won't waste time in cuddling this man to death, in which he secretly appreciates it, however, can't admit out loud due to his pride and ego.

to be honest, I headcannon him being a human heater when flustered like, you two are just cuddling, you are being your beautiful self and cuddling this man to death while he's just flustered as a boiling kettle. You can even see smoke coming out of his ears.

thanks to being his human heater self, his warmth is only making you want to cuddle him more!

also, thanks to ena and mizuki teasing little bro, he prefers you two cuddling in your house since no so-called annoying older sister and her friend teasing the living daylight out of him.

SMALL SPOON! HE'S FR A SMALL SPOON! he's so touch-starved for your affection, like, after finishing band practice, he rushed to your side and waits for you to have your urge in cuddling him, in which you immediately do it.

though, he still denies being the small spoon since quote-on-quote he's the man of this relationship.

just shut him up by pecking him on the lips and he'll immediately shuts down, use this to your advantage and cuddle him.

. . .toya aoyagi! (my fave&lt;;3)

another touch-starved baby since his father didn't give him enough love till now. L in the comments for toya's dad.

now, unlike your human heater, this guy is your human cooler.

so, whenever the summer hits and you feel like you're getting cooked to a T, just cuddle this guy and you'll feel like you're in the north pole. (merry christmas btw)

baby over here is melting from your cuddles and his gleeful smile and fond chuckles explains it.

I feel like he'll read you a story whenever you two are cuddling on his bed, since this is the only room he can have privacy besides the bathroom, he'll just one hand on the book and the other hand is wrapped around your waist or on your hair, twirling a strand or two.

even though he's fine with public pda, he's still cautious about his actions, his what ifs are like "what if somebody insults them whenever we do this" since toya cares about your feelings very much and he doesn't want your day and your feelings to be ruin by somebody who pokes their noses in other people's business. #stantoyaaoyagi

still, he'll keep an arm around you because toya wouldn't want to make your pretty head thinks he's tired of your cuddles,

it's actually the opposite, he's can never get tired of your affection and you.

though when in private, you can bet this man shows you his touch-starved self.

your cuddles are the medicine to every bad thing happening to him like, that one time where he and his dad got into a serious argument, he would go to your house and cuddle you there. once you open the door and see his rather saddened looked, your arms are already around him, whispering sweet words to him till he feels better.

no words can describe how much he places you above everything, even himself sometimes, baby just grateful to the gods above that he gets another person he can cherished besides his friends.

he was quite shy when you two were new but as time passed, you influenced him with your affection and cuddles, and now look at him, the same cuddly person as you are, maybe even more.

you guys having an unspoken rule on who's giving more cuddles and you damn well when it comes to game, toya aoyagi isn't losing but, he'll make an exception just for you<3

him being small or big spoon depends on his mood that day, like when he's feeling lovely as ever and wants to return every affection you've given him, he'll be the big spoon, especially if you had a bad day. this guy is a good listener and he'll be understanding of the situation. of course, you as well return his affection ^^.

and him being small spoon when him feeling tired after band practice, having a bad day, or whenever he feels like it.

you sometimes tease him about him being your baby and he just blushes, he doesn't deny it since he sometimes admits that he can be quite clingy and cuddly as an infant.

. . .tsukasa tenma!

this dude is ecstatic to have a partner like you (≧∀≦)ゞ

just two sunshines cuddling each other, nothing to see here~

to be honest, he doesn't care if you two are in public or private spaces, just cuddle the man right there and then.

though, if you're shy in public, he'll be understanding after teasing you a bit.

whenever some nosy people give their comments about give singles respect and blah blah blah and if it makes you feel bad about your cuddles, he'll declare war on them. he's a theater blonde, of course he's gonna do that.

it's rare seeing you two separated tbh. like, in school, every student can see you two having your arms around each other, in phoenix wonderland, his band mates, the guests, mascot, AND EVEN MIKU can see you two cuddling each other, even at his or your home!

you two just can't get enough of each other (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

though, whenever he's needed somewhere while he was cuddling with you, he'll whine before carrying you. he'll bring you everywhere since he needs his darling co-star to refill his energy whenever he feels tired.

his band mates just shake their heads and let their leader do whatever he wants.

tsukasa has the tendencies to squeeze you, he sometimes thinks you can squeak whenever he does that like a stuff toy he had when he was younger that he used to cuddle in his sleep.

though, speaking of family, his family especially saki adores you!

for saki, she's happy that her older brother has a partner like you since he always tires himself out just for her so it's wonderful seeing his brother having someone cuddly as you.

he flexes you to others. like, "look at my beloved starling! aren't they the cutest thing your eyes have ever seen?" and it's a picture of you sleeping while cuddling him and the person is just "huh?"

he flexes you as if you're a trophy or a great achievement in which you are.

it honestly relaxes him whenever you cuddle him, especially when it's such a peaceful day and without rui's inventions blowing him up. just you and him, in his bed, cuddling each other in peace while you two tell each other about your days and how it's been doing.

he cherished those moments with you, and nothing can replace those moments even when it's something expensive as gold.

like toya, him being small or big soon depends on his mood. if he wants to be pampered by you and your affection then he'll be the small spoon but, if he wants to return those pampering from you then he'll be the big spoon and pamper you! it's a win-win situation.

you make his heart go crazy, as well as his mind, that he made a play dedicated to you and you only.

. . .rui kamishiro!

aye! you like cuddles, he likes them as well! after some reassurance from you that is

from the start of your guys' relationship, he was not sure about being touchy with you but once you accepted him in those warm arms of yours, he's in.

like tsukasa, he doesn't care if you two are in public or private but, if you're too shy in public, he'll just give you a teasing cat smile and just gives wraps an arm around you all the while teasing you.

it ain't rui kamishiro without him teasing you at least 10 times a day.

you know those two faces/personality octopus plushies? the ones where each side has a different expression of the octopus plushie, you two have those but quite different from the normal ones, thanks to mizuki's help, he made two plushies for the two of you. one of the sides of the octopus plushie has a '^^' expression while the other side said, 'I'm having the urge to cuddle you rn'.

so, whenever you want to cuddle this man and you're too shy to say it, just flip the octopus plushie and he'll understand. I can imagine him being the big spoon cuddling you while both of your octopus plushies are on top of your guys' head, having the "^^" expression on them.

it's so cute that it'll give other cavities q(≧▽≦q)

just like his leader, direct over here will carry you everywhere just for the dose of his daily cuddles. he can either carry you bridal style, on his back, or maybe on his shoulders if he's feeling very teasing at that moment.

surprised attack cuddles!

you'll have to make a perfect plan to catch him off guard since he's always on guard due to you doing your surprised attack cuddles very often.

but, once you did catch him off guard with your surprised attack cuddles, he'll simply chuckles and say "such a sly partner I have~" but if you squint, you can see his cheeks being painted with the beautiful colour of red.

yes, rui kamishiro can be flustered, you just have to work hard on it.

sometimes nene just third wheel you two while you two cuddle and she's just playing her game, she doesn't feel bothered by it since she's grown used to the two of you being like this, i mean, she was the one who helped along in setting you two up.

if he was a cat, he would purr in your embrace. little kamishiro just can't get enough of you and it shows.

you're as cuddly as a teddy bear if he were to describe you. whatever occasion the world has, you two simply cuddle each other like every other day yet rui feels like he's on cloud nine.

he's mostly the big spoon when it comes to cuddles since he wants to just have you laying on his chest while he ruffles your hair, something peaceful he needed in his rather chaotic life.

however, if you want to be the big spoon this time, he'll reluctantly agree, after teasing you of course, and be the one being pampered by you.

every picture of you in his phone is you cuddling on him, and he cherishes those pictures, two of the pictures are set as his wallpaper in home and lock screen.

he just can't wait to get home after practice so you can attack him with those cuddles of yours (/≧▽≦)/

WRITER'S ENDING NONSENSE!

my goodness I feel like some sort of creature possessed me and gave me motivation for this! Hope this tale satisfied you, @hearts4saki! ヾ(≧▽≦*)o

rules! + masterlist!

[2plottwist]

Respite, Despite it All

Summary: After a long day of battling the horrifying creatures of the Shadow-Cursed Lands, you return to the Last Light Inn. Your lover, Astarion, has wonderful plans of pampering you. TL;DR Astarion is a soft gentle cutesy vampire boyfriend that treats you like you're a queen.

Pairing: Astarion x Elf!Reader, referred to with she/her pronouns

Characters: Astarion

Warnings: MDNI 18+, oral sex, fingering

Author: Emma:)

Word Count: 2.1k

Photo Credit: pay. on pinterest

Cradled in between wooden posts and crumbling stone was the Last Light Inn, a rare refuge in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Within the room you had taken for the night, the curse felt even farther away. For starters, there was an actual bed- a luxury within itself. It wasn’t nice, by any means; some of the wood had rotted away, and the sheets scratched against your skin. But it wasn’t a bed roll, which was a huge relief for the aches that shot up your back and to your neck. 

The best part of it all was the wooden tub in the corner of the room. You couldn’t remember the last time you had bathed in an actual tub, or warm water, for that matter. You had to make do with the river Chionthar or another reservoir nestled deep in the woods for months. It had soap, a sponge, and bathing oils. Everything you needed for a perfect night of relaxation. 

After a grueling day of battling shadows and other sinister creatures in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, you finally made your way back to the inn. The weight of exhaustion bore down on you, every muscle aching from the day’s relentless combat. You had left Astarion at the inn, opting to take Halsin with you in order to give him a brief moment of respite. As you push the door open to your shared room, the soft flicker of candlelight greeted you, casting a warm glow over the stone walls. The faint smell of lavender wafted through the room, pushed towards your nostrils by the breeze coming through the open window. 

Astarion was folding a towel before he turned to greet you with a soft smile. “Hello there,” he said quietly. “I trust you had a good day, my sweet, even if I wasn’t there to brighten it?” 

You couldn’t help but smile as he stepped closer, his hands moving to help you out of your armor, each piece clinking softly as it fell away, leaving you exposed. 

“Come now,” he says, guiding you toward the tub. “Let me make up for my absence.” His touch is gentle, his hands firm yet tender as he eases you into the warm embrace of the water, sliding the curtain closed around you.

The water in the tub is deliciously warm, enveloping you in a comforting embrace as you sink deeper, letting the heat ease away the tension in your muscles. The steam rises lazily, curling around the candlelit tub. Soon, the curtain is pulled back, revealing that Astarion has also stripped. He sinks into the water beside you, the sharp angles of his face softened by the flickering light, making him seem almost ethereal. He leans back, the water lapping at his pale skin. His fingers lazily trail through the water before he reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

His touch is gentle, reverent almost, as he tucks the hair behind your pointed ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek. “You know,” he murmured, “this might be the one part of this cursed place that I actually enjoy.”

You smiled, your eyes half-lidded as you savored the feeling of his touch. “It does have its charms, doesn’t it?” you replied, leaning back against him. “Though I think it’s less about the place and more about the company.” Astarion chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips, closing your eyes and savoring the moment. The warmth of the water, the faint scent of your favorite plant, and the quiet intimacy of being with him make it feel like the rest of the world has fallen away. 

Astarion shifts beside you, turning to face you more fully. He takes the sponge in hand, dipping it into the water before running it over your shoulders with a deliberate gentleness. The warm water cascades down your back. His touch is so tender, so careful, that it sends a shiver down your spine. He notices and smiles, a hint of that playful smirk you’ve come to love evident on his lips. 

“I’ve had centuries to master all sorts of skills,” he says, his voice low and velvety, “but I think I’ve found my favorite- pampering you.”

You sigh contentedly, letting your head fall back against the edge of the tub. He continues his gentle ministrations, the sponge gliding over your skin in slow, deliberate motions. There’s something in the way he touches you, as if he’s savoring every moment, every inch of you. It’s a side of him that he doesn’t show often, a softness that he keeps hidden and reveals just for you. 

Once he’s finished washing you, Astarion helps you out of the tub with the same gentle care. He wraps you in a thick, soft towel. His hands move over you in slow, careful strokes as he dries you off. When you’re dry, he guides you to a nearby stool, his touch light on your arm as he steers you into place. 

He grabs a brush and sits behind you on the bed, his fingers working through your damp hair. “I used to do this for my sister, Dal, centuries ago.” There’s a pause, the memory clearly bittersweet for him. “Of course, her hair was never quite as lovely as yours.”

You smile, leaning back into his touch as he brushes your hair with practiced ease. The bristles glide through your locks, the gentle tug at your scalp almost hypnotic. “How many sisters do you have?” you ask, your voice soft. 

“Three,” he replies. “But know I was only this kind a long time ago.. before Violet started putting garlic in our bunks.”

The braid he weaves is intricate, his fingers moving deftly as he creates a pattern. You can feel the care he’s putting into it, the way he’s making sure each strand is secure. It’s an act of love, one that speaks volumes. When he finishes, he secures the end with a red ribbon before leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“There,” he murmurs against your hair, his breath warm on your scalp. “All done.”

You reach up to touch the braid. You turn on the stool to face him, your heart swelling as you take in the sight of him sitting there, his crimson eyes filled with a warmth that’s still so new and wondrous. 

“I don’t deserve you,” you say, leaning against his knees and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“You deserve so much more,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Before you could respond, he placed a finger under your chin, tilting your head up and capturing your lips in a kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of promises, of a future you both hoped for, despite the uncertainty that surrounded you. 

When you finally broke apart, you found yourself smiling. “You’re right,” you said, your voice light with teasing. “I do deserve more. Like maybe you giving me a massage.” Astarion laughed softly, his breath warm against your skin. “In your dreams, darling.” He stands, offering you his hand. “Now, what do you say we retire to bed? I’m not quite done pampering you yet.” You take his hand, allowing him to lead you to the bed. He lies you down gently before trailing a hand down your exposed torso. He walks to the foot of the bed before climbing over it, carefully placing his knees by your hips. 

He smiles down at you, his naked form towering above you. He strokes your cheek softly, pausing at your mouth and softly dragging your bottom lip down. You place a gentle kiss on the pad of his thumb. 

“I love the way you feel beneath my touch, you know,” he growls softly, placing a knee inside your own, pushing your legs open. He leans in and kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips. You smiled up at him. It made his heart sing.

“Astarion…” you whispered.

“Shh,” he said softly. “Let me take care of you, love.”

You nodded, and his tongue slid across your mouth, and you moaned into the touch. His lips run down your neck, nipping softly at the tender flesh above your collarbone where he drinks from you. He continues kissing down your body, working his way to your breasts. His tongue flicks out, catching your nipple. Your breath catches at the action and you reach out to tangle a hand in his moon-kissed curls to steady yourself. You can feel the warmth pooling in between your legs, and you can only assume he can too as he dips his head, kissing your inner thigh. 

When he finally reached your core, he took his time, licking and nipping at your folds. He licked up and down before gently circling your clit with his tongue. You gasped, arching your back. “A- Astarion…” He chuckled softly, the feeling vibrating against you. “I’ve got you, my love.”

He teased your clit with his tongue, flicking it lightly. You moaned, your hands gripping the sheets. He groaned- he couldn’t help himself. You were so beautiful. He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. 

He paused, slipping a digit inside of you and curling it in swift motions. “Are you enjoying this?” he asked, his voice was husky with need. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” you whimpered. 

“Good,” he murmured. “Now, I want you to close your eyes and relax.”

You allowed your head to fall back against the pillow as he slipped another finger inside of you, pumping them slowly in and out of you. 

His mouth found you again, sucking on your clit harder than before. The combination of his fingers inside you and the sensation of his tongue sent waves of pleasure cascading over you.

“Come for me, my darling,” he murmured, pressing another kiss onto your inner thigh. “I need you to come for me.”

The order was enough to send you over the edge, your orgasm rippling through your body as your spasming walls squeezed his fingers. The sight alone was enough to have him falling into an orgasm right after you. 

After he cleaned up, he joined you under the covers. He pulls you closer, holding you against him. His arms encircle you, strong and protective, his chest rising and falling slowly with the steady rhythm of his breath. He rests his chin on top of your head, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine with the gentlest of touches. It was reverent, every movement a worship, as if you were a divine being descended into his arms. 

And perhaps, to him, you were. 

There’s a peace in his eyes that you rarely see, a calm that had been elusive for so many years. His voice is soft, barely more than a whisper in the stillness of the night. “You are… everything I prayed for,” he murmurs. “In those dark, endless nights in Cazador’s dungeon, when hope was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Though I didn’t know you then, I dreamed of you.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of his past and the lightness of the future you’re building together. He tilts your face up to meet his gaze, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand how someone like you could care for someone like him.

“But you’re here,” he continues, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “And you’re real. Divine, in every way that matters to me.” He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and then another to your lips, lingering as if to reassure himself that this moment is real.

He holds you even tighter, his arms a barrier between you and the world, as if he could protect you from everything just by keeping you close. “I never thought I’d find something—someone—worth praying for again. Yet here you are, proving me wrong in the most wonderful way.”

In his embrace, the horrors of his past seem distant, replaced by the quiet comfort of your presence. As sleep begins to claim you both, he can feel your heart beating against his chest, steady and strong, a reminder that despite everything, despite the pain and the darkness, you’ve found each other. And in this moment, that’s all that matters.