#seems like a one-way ticket to not putting yourself out there

[writingbuckets]

The Hot Take: Part 2

paige bueckers x influencer!reader

wc: 1.7k

a/n: thanks so much for the kind messages on part 1! enjoy <3

**********

You can feel the energy in the arena even from the parking lot. Fans are buzzing, and you catch glimpses of them sporting jerseys and waving signs in support of Paige and her teammates. There’s a spark of excitement mixed with nerves in your stomach as you make your way to the courtside seats Paige promised.

You glance down at the ticket she sent you through DM with a wry smile. It’s a little surreal, actually being here. The back-and-forth messages with Paige left you curious and maybe a little too interested in seeing her play. Overrated, you’d said. Well, tonight she’d get the chance to prove you wrong.

As you settle into your seat, you text Taylor to let her know you’ve arrived. She’s responds in caps “EXCITED FOR YOU”, sending laughing emojis and a “TRY NOT TO FALL IN LOVE, Y/N.”

In the locker room, Paige’s teammates are already in pre-game mode, stretching and reviewing plays, but Azzi catches sight of Paige checking her phone for the third time in five minutes. She grins knowingly, nudging Jana beside her.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” Azzi asks Paige with a teasing tone. “You’ve got that look.”

Paige pretends not to know what she’s talking about, tucking her phone away with a smirk. “What look?”

“Don’t play coy. This is a new level of focus even for you,” Jana chimes in, eyeing her with mock seriousness. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with your biggest critic being courtside tonight, would it?”

Paige rolls her eyes but can’t hide the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Just trying to make sure she gets her money’s worth,” she says with a shrug. “Not every day you get a ‘critique’ from someone who’s never even seen you play live.”

KK, who’s been stretching nearby, perks up, catching the last part of the conversation. “Wait, is this the podcaster?” She laughs, sitting up and pointing at Paige. “The one who called you overrated? Oh, this is too good.”

“Yeah, we’ve been talking a little,” Paige admits, trying to sound casual but clearly enjoying the reaction from her friends.

Morgan snickers. “Talking, huh? I don’t think she meant that comment as an invitation, Paige.”

Paige gives a mock glare. “Please. She’s practically begging to be impressed.”

Aubrey chuckles, crossing her arms. “Just don’t get too distracted out there, superstar. She might be here to see you crash and burn.”

Paige laughs and waves them off, but there’s an undeniable confidence in her tone. “Oh, trust me. She’s not ready for what she’s about to see.”

**********

You watch the team make their entrance, the crowd roaring as each player is introduced. When Paige is called, the noise is almost deafening, and you find yourself instinctively clapping along, even as you try to stay cool.

Finally, the game starts. Within moments, it’s clear why Paige has all the attention. She commands the court with ease, weaving around defenders with a blend of grace and intensity that makes it hard to look away. Every shot, every pass—it’s like she’s putting on a show, and with each move, she glances your way, her gaze almost daring you to look impressed.

You catch her eye after she lands a particularly smooth three-pointer, and she gives a slight smirk, as if to say, Not bad, huh?

You raise an eyebrow, mouthing back, “Still not impressed.”

In response, she grins and picks up her pace, dominating every play with a flair that seems designed to taunt you. The more you watch, the more you find yourself pulled into the game, barely noticing the time passing. But every so often, her eyes find yours, and it’s like the entire arena fades away for just a moment.

The final buzzer sounds, and Paige’s team wins by a comfortable margin. As the players cool down and talk to the press, she sends a quick look in your direction, clearly reveling in her victory. She approaches the sidelines, her teammates trailing behind and giving her little nudges and knowing looks.

Azzi shoots you a cheeky grin as she passes. “Hey, thanks for coming. Glad Paige had her own personal cheerleader tonight.”

Jana adds with a laugh, “More like underrated, huh?”

Before you can respond, Paige strides up, wiping sweat from her brow and grinning with that signature self-assurance.

“So?” she says, folding her arms and looking at you expectantly. “Any thoughts from my favorite hater?”

You keep your expression neutral, even as your pulse quickens under her direct gaze. “Not bad. You almost looked like you knew what you were doing out there.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Almost? That’s high praise coming from you.”

You shrug, tilting your head thoughtfully. “Guess I’ll have to watch a few more games to make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”

Her eyes light up at that. “Oh, so you’re coming back?”

“Only if you keep up that level of play,” you reply, not missing a beat. “I’d hate to waste my time.”

Her teammates are still hovering nearby, soaking up the banter with matching grins.

KK gives Paige a nudge. “Careful, Bueckers. I think she’s starting to like you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first,” Paige quips, giving you a sidelong glance. “Some people just need a little convincing.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “You think you’ve convinced me?”

“Not yet,” she admits, a teasing challenge in her eyes. “But I think I’m close.”

You can’t help but laugh, enjoying the back-and-forth more than you’d like to admit. She’s good at this—smooth, confident, and annoyingly charming. And the way she keeps looking at you, with that mix of amusement and intrigue, makes it harder to stick to your original opinion.

As the conversation winds down, you start to think about heading out. But before you can make a move, Paige’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“So, a few of us are grabbing food to celebrate,” she says casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You should come. Unless, of course, you have better things to do?”

Her eyes are challenging, and you can feel her teammates watching you, clearly curious to see what you’ll say. Part of you wants to play it cool, brush it off, but there’s a bigger part that’s intrigued, drawn to the idea of spending more time with her.

“Why not?” you reply, keeping your tone light. “Could be interesting.”

She grins, giving her teammates a triumphant look before gesturing for you to follow.

The group heads to a local spot where they’re regulars, filling up a large booth with laughter and chatter. You find yourself seated next to Paige, who’s now relaxed and fully in her element, her focus entirely on you.

“So, tell me,” she says, leaning in as she sips her drink. “What made you think I wasn’t as good as people say?”

You shrug, pretending to think hard. “I think some players need to be humbled sometimes. Keeps things balanced.”

“Oh, really?” She smirks. “So you’re, like, the self-appointed hype police?”

“If that’s what it takes.” You give her a challenging look. “And, judging by your performance, I think you’re taking my job pretty seriously.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Maybe I just like proving people wrong.”

Aubrey, who’s overheard, chimes in with a grin. “Yeah, Paige is kind of a show-off when it comes to impressing people.”

Paige rolls her eyes, but she’s clearly enjoying the attention. “Hey, I like a challenge.”

You lean back, folding your arms as you meet her gaze. “Good to know. Might have to challenge you more often, then.”

The night goes on, filled with jokes, teasing, and the undeniable chemistry simmering between you and Paige. Her teammates keep throwing her looks, nudging her when she gets too obvious with her attention, but she brushes them off with ease.

By the end of the night, you’re more than a little curious about where this dynamic might lead. Paige, it turns out, isn’t just an incredible player—she’s clever, competitive, and, as much as you hate to admit it, a lot of fun to be around.

As you say your goodbyes and head out, she catches your arm, pulling you back for one last exchange.

“So,” she murmurs, her voice low, “can I ask for your opinion on me now?”

You meet her gaze, a slow smile spreading across your face. “ I’ll tell you when you make an appearance on the show.”

She laughs, nodding as she steps back. “You can count on it.”

You linger a moment, savoring the playfulness in her tone and the easy confidence in her smile. Her teammates start calling her over, and you see her hesitate, glancing between you and her friends. It’s almost as if she’s weighing her next move, and the idea that Paige Bueckers might actually be a little reluctant to end the night brings a grin to your face.

“Better go before they start making up embarrassing stories about you,” you say with a nod toward her friends, who are watching the two of you with unabashed interest.

She chuckles, eyes glinting with something mischievous. “Don’t worry, they don’t have any dirt on me… yet.”

“Oh, so you’re planning on giving them some?” you shoot back.

Paige tilts her head thoughtfully. “Only if it’s worth it.” Her voice is low, suggestive, and you can’t ignore the electric undertone beneath her words. She glances toward the exit, then back at you, taking a small step closer. “But, you know… I wouldn’t mind getting to know my ‘biggest hater” a little better.”

Her words hang in the air, and you feel your pulse quicken. There’s a part of you that wants to keep this light, play it cool, but another part—a part you’re not fully ready to admit yet—is undeniably intrigued by her invitation.

With a playful smile, you shrug. “Maybe you’ll earn that chance. If you’re lucky.”

Her laughter rings out, bright and clear. “I think I make my own luck.”

You offer her a mock salute. “We’ll see about that, superstar.”

As you turn to leave, you feel her gaze on you, lingering, as though she’s already planning her next move. And as you step out of the restaurant, the night air feels different—charged with possibility. You’ve seen a side of Paige that few get to see, and it’s clear this game of wit and challenge between you isn’t over yet.

But for now, you head home, wondering what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into.

[not-poignant]

hey pia! i love your work, hi!!! im a young writer interested in posting some of my big projects online (not that i really expect them to get any traction lol). i was wondering how you protect your work from plagiarism, or how you deal with people plagiarizing your work. it seems like the internet is kind of the wild west, and that’s only sometimes a good thing :/ im probably a bit too poor to afford any sort of copyright or whatever online authors do, but maybe i can save up? 🙏🙏

PS - i didn’t actually care whether or not this ask was anonymous, but from my experience on tumblr it seems like an unspoken rule🤨 so i guess i’ll turn it on🫡

Hi anon!

Tbh the only real difference between anon and attaching your name is that I have the choice to reply to you privately if you send an ask under your name (which is sometimes preferrable if the question is personal or really niche!) and that gives me more options. Anon forces me to only answer publicly (which is probably why you're seeing that so much!!), but the downside is that sometimes I have to delete anon messages when I don't want the responses or even the ask/s on my public blog.

Anyway! This is something I'd respond to publicly anyway, because I think this is a fear a lot of new and young writers have. The tl;dr is that copyright is often assumed on the internet, provenance makes it easy to send DMCA takedowns, and letting a fear of piracy stop you from putting your work up is one of the biggest ways I see new authors handicap themselves on the web currently (idk if it's confirmation bias or what but it seems like I see this several times each month atm from specifically new authors), and it's like...not a thing...to be hampering yourself with.

Okay, now for the longer explanation:

The first thing with copyright is that it by and large depends on your country and what you want to do with the story. In Australia, every created work by default has legal copyright protection simply by being created by someone. We don't need to pay to apply for copyright on creative works, we automatically have it and if we can prove provenance (i.e. if we can demonstrate we created it first, with like a document date etc.) we are legally protected.

So I can't answer for the country you're in, anon, but honestly, this is how it works on most of the internet where you're likely to put a project online. AO3 will respect that a work is yours if it gets stolen, if you can prove you came up with it or published it before another person did (literally all you need is a screenshot or a link). In the Properties or Details of most of your documents, the 'date created' is your best friend.

I've had my work stolen quite a few times over the years. It's been stolen the most from AO3 over to Wattpad (it's almost like Wattpad authors don't realise that sometimes we look lol).

In one case, blanket commenting on one of the fics that the original fic was on AO3 *and complete and not stolen* was enough for the author themselves to take it down. x.x Otherwise what you generally do is send a DMCA takedown notice, which almost all creative sites give you access to when reporting theft (your readers cannot do this for you, you must do it.)

Similarly, on AO3, if this happens, you can just report it. The big downside here is that it can take the volunteers there some time - sometimes up to two weeks or more - to get on top of that, so it might feel like nothing at all is happening. Patience is recommended.

Look, theft happens, you can't avoid it. It is a normal part of putting your work out there in the world. And I can't tell you how many new authors I know who kind of shoot themselves in the foot trying to prevent the acts of thieves, while not realising they're hampering themselves in the process.

Pirating is the worst, but so is never putting your work out there, or waiting for a magical protection from piracy. It doesn't exist - and there's a general rule where the more steps you introduce to stop or reduce piracy, the more you actually alienate your general readers - think about how having right-click disabled on a website can feel, for example. It's considered hostile internet architecture that is often very inaccessible.

(There's also a phenomenon where the authors most scared of theft are the ones least likely to encounter it, because their works are new, and they'll need a lot of time to build up readers and engagement in the first place. Most of the time, those who plagiarise don't want to take the works of new/young authors over the works of experienced authors who just won't think to check the sites they're using. By the time you're popular enough for that to be an issue, you'll probably have more confidence in yourself and your ability to handle this. I will say theft of ebooks on sites like Amazon etc. is way more common than theft of original stories and fanfics on AO3, but both happen more often than they used to, that's just...sadly a part of life.)

Also, applying for copyright doesn't mean your work won't get stolen. You'll still have to send DMCA takedowns, and you'll still have to get in contact with websites. A lot of the time websites have a form you can fill out. You still have to do all that labour and pay to register copyright. The filing of copyright is sadly not a magical shield against theft of a creative work. It does make it easier to take someone to court, but that's expensive, often not worth it, and the labour someone can spend chasing down thieves is often better spent amongst the readers who actually give a shit (they're the ones who often notice the theft in the first place when it comes to serials).

If you plan on publishing ebooks, there's software and organisations you can pay a monthly fee to, who just exist to issue takedown notices to piracy sites so you don't have to. I've never used these personally, but from what I've read on Facebook writing groups, they're often not worth it compared to the past, because new sites spring up all the time. But different authors have different experiences with online theft (and different levels of income to combat it) so you'll hear different things on that front.

I'm...pretty zen about it. To me, it's only a worry when I have to send someone a notice about it, which I don't actually have to do all that often. Like, it sucks, but almost always it never happens as much as a new author like yourself fears it will. That doesn't mean you won't hate it when it happens, but you'll live, and your works will keep finding readers, and it won't be what you're likely imagining it will be. It's for most authors, just an occasional giant pain in the ass that we forget about a day or two later sdakfjdsa

[paarksunghoon]

Sunghoon trying to stay sane and respectful but your love for mini skirts and barely there tops are testing his patience day by day. He's not a horn dog but God when you press against him, so soft, so pretty and oh so naive..do you not notice your entire cleavage hanging out for his eyes to drink in, or the skirt riding up your luscious thighs as you rant about your day?

as someone who wears mini skirts all the time…nbgngngn. i’m also pretty high but reading this really put a number on me so sorry for typos lol

***

Sunghoon is a skirt chaser.

He’s always loved seeing girls wearing them since it made their legs look longer. It didn’t matter much to him—short girls or tall girls—he loved seeing ass peeking out from under the skirt and how they’d always tug at the hem to pull it down. Sunghoon doesn’t date much either (although that definitely wasn’t because nobody wanted him like that either; he wasn’t looking for that type of commitment).

He loved the kind of skirts that paired well for going out. Sure, the solid color staples pieces were cute. But the way silk touches the skin and how hips sway in these fabrics was enough to make his mouth salivate.

When you started wearing them, Sunghoon became perplexed.

You, his best friend since twelve, seemed to have ditched jeans and long dresses for short skirts and baby tees. In the past few months, he’s seen you switch up your wardrobe to the point where he was sure you had more than enough mini skirts to last you a lifetime. They came in all colors and styles, one for every color underneath the rainbow and then some. His friends all noticed this too, eyes following your ass every time you walked in front of them. That made him mad.

The thing is, you have an amazing ass and your tits always sit so pretty. He tries not to stare and gawk at you every time you wear these kinds of clothes. You keep it fairly tame when you’re in broad daylight and push the boundaries on a night out. You don’t seem to care that his friends stare at you every time you try to cover yourself up from a gust of wind or when you bend down. Sunghoon has probably seen your panties too many times.

He really doesn’t understand why all of these feelings are bubbling up. He’s seen you in bikinis and didn’t react like this. Sunghoon is confused but that doesn’t stop his dick from getting hard every time he pictures your outfits when he’s in the safety of his bedroom.

His favorite way to get off is by pushing his back against the bed frame and spreading his legs, holding his fist in a circle and he pumps himself up and down. Sunghoon pictures you riding him in one of your infamous mini skirts, looking up at the ceiling and imagining what you’d look like on top of him. He thinks about how he’d look down and the dirty affair would be covered by the fabric, as if thinking about fucking your best friend wasn’t weird.

Sunghoon is pulled back to reality when you squeeze his bicep in lieu of a greeting.

“Do you have our tickets?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus, Y/N. You need to warn a guy before you creep up on them.”

“All I did was touch your arm!” His cheeks feel hot as you laugh. “Were you in deep thought, or something?”

His eyes flicker to the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you wear but scoffs, playing it off. “Nah. You’re as quiet as a mouse.”

“Well this mouse wants to go inside.”

You don’t wait for him to answer you. Sunghoon feels you tug him by the hand towards the security line in front of the concert venue. You’ve been a bit more physical with him lately, tugging on his arm and sifting your fingers through his hair whenever he’d lay his head on top of yours. He only ever means to for a brief second in the way friends do, but he hesitates to pull away once you tug at his roots.

The artist is a band you two discovered a few years back and he was in charge of buying the concert tickets for the both of you. Sunghoon sees the fruit of his labor pay off when you’re both standing inside after you both pass through security. The venue is crowded and small, but you’re sure everybody is too high out of their minds to notice people bumping into them anyway.

As the two of you walk closer towards the middle, it starts to get tighter. Sunghoon moves you in front of him and puts his hands on your waist to guide you and doesn’t mind that your arms are resting on top of his.

You don’t move away from him once you’ve joined others either. He noticed that you’re a bit shorter than everyone else around you. “Do you want to get on my shoulders during your favorite songs?”

“No, that’s okay. I want to dance.”

He looks down at your skirt. “Mhm, let me know if you change your mind.

The two of you wait until the show begins and you’re talking to him about how excited you are for tonight but all he can think about is how he could cop a feel if he really wanted to. The skirt you’re wearing provides him easy access to touch you but he refuses to act on his urges, often flexing his fingers to calm himself down.

Halfway through the show and everyone is having a great time. You’ve danced for an hour straight and feel your legs wobbling after jumping and screaming the lyrics to Sunghoon. He’s a bit taken aback when you rest your back against his chest but tries not to think too much into it.

But you stay like that for a while and he can feel the fabric of your skirt. He toys with it absentmindedly as he nods his head to the melody until he feels your legs tensing against him. When he looks down, your thighs are squished together.

Fuck. He wonders if you’re horny.

Sunghoon hooks his chin over your shoulder and peeks down below to where his hands graze the hem of your mini skirts. When you don’t motion for him to move away, he grunts when his hands start to disappear and moans directly in your ear when his fingers touch your panties. It’s only then does he realize how wet you are.

His other arm is secured over your waist and you grip onto him at the sudden contact across your blooming core. He swipes his index and middle fingers back and forth to gauge just how wet you’ve become, smearing it all over your panties. It brings a gasp out of you and he pushes his lap against your ass.

It’s too much and he’s too hard. Neither of you are paying much attention to the show anymore, too wrapped up in your own little world to focus on anything else. Sunghoon nearly moans out loud when he realizes you’re allowing him to hump you from behind.

“Are you trying to ruin this friendship?”

Sunghoon feels you nod against him and the two of you head out of the venue and into his car. He tries to keep it in his pants on the ten minute drive back to his apartment. You don’t fuss when Sunghoon shoves his hand between your legs and keeps rubbing over your pussy as he drives, one hand on the wheel while he plays with you. Your best friend bites his lip and tenses when arousal gushes out of you.

“Recline and open your legs wider, baby.” You do as he says and he pats your clit twice. “Good girl, listening to me like that.” He switches his ministrations and brings his thumb to rub over your clit in back and forth motions. “Need to make sure you stay wet.”

And stay wet you do. You’re wet all the way home where he locks the two of you in his place until he’s dropping to his knees and pushing your chest against the wall. Sunghoon puts his face between your legs and licks up the arousal clinging to your panties while spreading your cheeks apart with his big hands, squeezing when you yelp.

He pulls the pathetic fabric aside and sticks his tongue into you, prying yourself open for his viewing. His warmth breath fans over your core and it has you pushing back against his face until his tongue licks you up in repeated motions.

Sunghoon doesn’t really care that he’s too horny for foreplay and neither do you, apparently, because when you hear sunghoon unzip his pants and take them off, you’re taking your panties off and taking your shoes off too. He grabs himself and aligns his tip with your hole before pushing all of himself inside.

You’re so wet. It’s so hot. He fucks you like he’s got enough stamina to last a lifetime and your tits bounce against the walls at the pace he’s set. He pulls back far enough that he nearly slips out every time but without fail, Sunghoon will make sure his dick stays wet the entire time you’re with him.

He pulls you back onto the couch with his cock still lodged inside of you, manhandling your body until he’s got you on his lap and your feet are placed by his knees. Sunghoon pushes his hips upwards and fucks you like this, balls slapping your clit with every thrust. He moans when you moan, the emptiness of his apartment filled up by erotic noises that only spur on his orgasm.

Your release triggers his. When he feels your cum seeping down onto the base, Sunghoon shoots his thick ropes into you but doesn’t stop thrusting. Albeit lazier and more random, he keeps his frantic pace and lets you dig your fingers into him while you wonder how your best friend made you cum so fast.

“Fuck!” you moan when Sunghoon pulls out just to push himself back in once he’s made your body lay in front of him.

“You’re so fucking sexy in these things.” He acknowledges the skirt by flipping the fabric with his fingers. Sunghoon doesn’t give you enough time to reply but you’re too busy moaning to care about the consequences anyway. “Wear them more often and I’ll fuck you like this every time.”

Since when is your best friend so good at dirty talk?!

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

[aakeysmash]

you and college!sukuna see each other at a party

college!sukuna masterlist

Going to the same college as college!sukuna means you inevitably see each other at a couple of parties you both attend to. It doesn’t happen that much, because you and him are both heavily set on sitting on your living room couch doing absolutely nothing the majority of the nights, and you try to ignore each other when you know you’re going to be in the same place out of the house. But when Sukuna manages to leave Yuuji at one of his classmates’ houses for a sleepover, his friends get a whiff of the news and drag him out of the apartment.

He does put up a fight about it, because Sukuna being Sukuna, he hates parties; even more if he has to pay for a ticket before entering. The rancid smell of alcohol mixed with sweat makes him want to punch someone. Not to mention girls always try to get in his pants, and while in the past that would have stroked his ego, now he finds himself annoyed by it. The chicks seem to be copies of each other: really short dresses, really long batting lashes, really dragged out alcohol induced words and he really doesn’t care about any of their tits pressed on his arm.

You, on the other hand, hate men who touch you on the dance floor. Your girls convince you to hit the club every time (“every time” probably being less than 3 times in the whole year) because they say you will have “so much fun”, but your definition of fun isn’t being groped by a guy you don’t even think attends your college to begin with.

Today you find yourself searching for the bar after the last guy who tried to squeeze your ass almost got kicked in the balls by you. You plop down on a bar stool and absentmindedly order a drink (of course there’s fruit in it), and while you wait for the barman to serve you, you take out your phone from your purse. You scroll on your socials, getting bored in 5 minutes, and while you softly tap on the counter with your freshly done nails you decide you had enough.

Message to: Worst roommate ever: is Yuuji home?

The message gets through but doesn’t get read. You roll your eyes, thinking he’s probably busy doing absolutely nothing inside the apartment. You feel so jealous.

“Come on man, you’ve been here like… two hours,” comes a male voice behind you. You don’t bother turning around, resorting to sipping your drink before swirling the straw around. “Just take someone home and relax,” the boy continues. You scrunch your nose. That’s a disgusting thing to say.

“You mean I’ve already been here two hours. I’ve had fucking enough. I’m going home. Alone,” someone responds, biting rough voice getting closer to you. From the corner of your eye, you see someone slamming one of their elbows on the counter right next to you, and you scoot over away from them. You don’t want to interact with anyone unless they taste like sweet fruit and they’re called “passion fruit mojitos”.

“But whyyy,” the first guy asks, trying to reason with his apparently leaving friend.

“Because I got 10 pairs of tits shoved in my fucking face in the last 20 minutes,” the second one barks out, ordering a gin tonic when he spots the barman. Basic ass.

Suddenly, you receive a text.

Worst roommate ever: no. sleepin over at some kid’s

You sigh. You’re sure you’d have more fun if Yuuji dragged you into one of his latest hobbies. That’s it, you’re still going home, even if you’ll be bored to death either way. You turn around for a split second to leave a tip to the barman when you recognise the pink head next to you. Sukuna has his back turned to you, so he hasn’t seen you yet. You try to sneakily go away, not wanting to interrupt the conversation he’s having with a man you think you’ve seen him with on campus, when you tell yourself that if he really wants to go home you could go home together. At least you’re going to save the money you would’ve given to the uber. You touch his shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey-“

“God wants this to be the day I sock a bitch to the ER,” you hear him grit out. His friend, you think he’s called Geto, winces. Then, still turned away, the tattooed man continues with “I don’t fucking care about your pussy, get the fuck out.”

You slap him on the back of his head.

“Is this the same mouth you kiss your mother with?” You exclaim, feigning shock.

“What the fuck?” He whips his head around and you see how his expression turns from an annoyed one to a confused one. He rolls his eyes.

“You know damn well my mother is dead,” he says. You see his friend’s eyes pop out of his sockets. This is not something you say to a stranger. “I almost broke your nose. Don’t play with me,” your almost-roommate says, one side of his mouth lightly raised, as if he’s actually disgusted about seeing you here, completely facing you. Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“You should have. I would’ve had a reason to kick you out,” you seethe.

“Oh really? Then who would’ve opened the door for your sorry ass the next time you forget your keys?” He tells you, his face getting closer to yours, menacingly. The friend he still has next to him watches the scene in front of him with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not my fault they’re never where I think I left them,” you mumble, frowning.

He smirks. “I should’ve known it was you when you’re the only one up here with a yellow fruity drink. Pussy,” he says, louder, to make you hear every word above the music.

“Fuck you and your basic gin tonic ass.”

He grins. “Baby, have some manners. We can’t have you dirtying your criminal record with sex in public, can we?” He says, lightly caressing your cheek with his index finger. You swat his hand away, glaring at him the meanest way you can. Meanwhile, another guy you recognise as Satoru reaches the barstool. He greets you and gives Geto a questioning look, to which the other responds mouthing “Who is this girl?”. Satoru just shakes his head, giving you a knowing look.

You get back to looking over at your roommate. “Wanna go home?” You ask him, features relaxing. You just want to go home, with or without him, and sleep until tomorrow.

He chuckles. “You’re not helping your case if you say it like that.”

You shrug. “I guess that’s a no,” you say, getting your purse and standing up, heels clicking toward the exit. When you don’t hear him follow you you turn around, and he levels you with a bored look. “Oh okay, so I guess you want the landlord to come knocking at your door tomorrow morning and say you’ll have to pay full rent since I was brutally killed by some random dude this uneventful night, all because you didn’t want to come home,” you almost scream, trying to get your words across the thumping of the bass, turning back around and resuming your walk. You already shot your friends a text saying you’ll be going back with Sukuna, anyway.

“No, wait- come on baby, don’t be like that,” he whines, rushing up his stool and following you. He waves his friends goodbye with a flick of his wrist, and you shoot them a small smile when you pass by them. You and Sukuna continue bickering while getting out of the club. He tries to grab your head and fakes bashing it against the wall, and you push him away jokingly, smiling up at his badly concealed grin. He puts one hand in his jacket’s pocket, the other one grazing your small back to keep you from bumping into random drunk guys. You don’t even seem to notice the gesture, and he doesn’t seem to realise he’s doing it either. Suguru and Satoru are still watching you two, albeit a little dumbfounded.

“So? Who’s the one that got big captain whining?” Asks Suguru, drinking the gin tonic Sukuna left behind. Sukuna leaving a paid drink behind? After not touching a single girl since he came this night but leaving with you three minutes into a conversation? You must be something, for sure.

“Someone he claims to be a pain in the ass,” answers Satoru, chuckling.

[kykyonthemoon]

Under The Weather

Zayne came to visit you when you were unwell, and turned out, you were not the only one who needed special care.

── .✦ Zayne x Female Reader|MC

♡︎. Tags: fluff, sweet, soft domestic fluff, tender loving care, established relationship, sickness, seasonal flu and usage of medication.

♡︎. Word count: ~1k

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic - currently closed.

In a dreaming state, you woke up at midday. The doorbell rang, and you had to force yourself to move your painful, fatigued body. 

Zayne was waiting for you outside. At that moment, you immediately recalled something really important.

You had stood Zayne up.

That Saturday morning was supposed to be your date at the cinema with Zayne. But in the early morning, you had a fever and ultimately fell asleep. You turned to look at the wall clock inside the room and felt even more guilty.

Zayne, though, remained silent. Just by looking at your current state, he could tell why you did not show up at the cinema. The first thing he did after entering your flat was take your temperature.

“S-Sorry, Zayne…” You mumbled while he got you some medication. “But… How was the movie?”

"I don't know." His voice echoed from the kitchen, where he was pouring a cup of water. 

“Huh?… Didn't you watch it?”

Zayne appeared in front of you. In one hand he carried a few pills, and in the other a glass of warm water. He spread both of them in front of you, bending down slightly to be within your reach on the sofa.

“I bought two tickets. If I only used one, the remaining would feel very lonely.”

Despite your feeble grin, it seemed as though a bit more life had been infused into the flower that was your heart.

“Sorry that I made you wait…” You replied after taking the medication. All of a sudden, you could picture Zayne sitting by himself at the cinema, two tickets in hand, soft drinks and popcorn beside him. You were filled with guilt. You felt so guilty. “You can just call me next time, if something like this happens again.”

“I did make a call.”

"Huh? I don't remember receiving any call..." 

You quickly found the phone on the table and turned it on. There were dozens of calls and messages from Zayne with no response. You must have fallen deep asleep, as you did not  know anything. 

Zayne lowered himself in front of you with one knee bent on the floor. He looked up at you, his hand gently ruffled your hair.

“"It's fortunate that you didn't get yourself into any trouble scarier than a fever.”

You grinned. Zayne treated you with gentleness as always. Even when you had stood him up, he did not get angry and came to your place to take care of you. All of a sudden, you were dying to kiss him. Yet when you softly closed your eyes and leaned towards his direction, your nose started to itch, causing you to sneeze violently and collapsing into Zayne instead.

He held you in his arms, caressing your soft hair. Just as you were about to sneeze again, Zayne snatched up a tissue from the table and carefully put it to your nose. Your hair was disheveled and your whole face reddened. You were still in your jammies with snowmen on them. You were so embarrassed to let him see you looking that unkempt. Zayne, though, only gave you a soft stroke on the face, saying that you should rest some more. He would take care of lunch. You drifted off into another dream right after Zayne carried you back to the bedroom.

When you woke up, he had finished preparing porridge and a light meal. Since you still wanted to make it up to Zayne for that movie both of you had missed that morning, you suggested another one at home. You curled up on the sofa, leaning against him. Remembering what he had mentioned during the meal earlier that there had been a seasonal flu epidemic in Linkon recently, you quickly rose up and moved far away from him, all the way to the other side of the sofa. Zayne rolled his eyes at you, wondering why you were acting so strange. 

“I don't want to give Doctor Zayne my flu…” You clarified.

Zayne smiled, shaking his head slightly. He gradually moved towards you until you were both sitting side by side like earlier. 

“I have a strong immune system. I am capable of taking care of you in every way without becoming sick."

Undoubtedly, you took Zayne's word for it and allowed him to look after you for the next few days. However, by the time you recovered, he was the one to get sick.

“I thought Doctor Zayne was so confident about his immune system.” While taking his temperature, you could not resist teasing him more.

Zayne lay on the bed without responding. His nose tip was red from excessive sneezing, and his body was heated from a fever. You took the opportunity to poke his cheek several times. His face reddened even more, and he appeared uneasy while lying still. Doctor Zayne seldom became so submissive and tolerated your bothering him to this extent.

You assisted him in taking his medication and urge him to get more rest.

“You should… go home… I'll be fine again tomorrow…” Zayne said. 

"I'm not leaving. You caught the flu from me, didn't you? It is now my responsibility to take care of you until you fully recover!"

Zayne met your determined gaze. He smiled softly. 

“Heal me then, Doc-tor.”

You leaned down, about to kiss him, but Zayne quickly put a hand on his lips to stop you.

“That is... not something we can do right now…”

You grimaced before giving his knuckles a tender kiss. 

"So you have to make it up to me later once you get better, Doctor Zayne," you said.

[kingtomura]

Uber Eats

synopsis: What a crappy Friday night! You’re the only driver for your restaurant and you have to deliver to this Tomura S. guy. The worst part? He never tips. wc: 2.7k content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, quirkless au, oral (f! receiving), overstim, degredation, vaginal fingering, mdni cross posted to ao3

You hated this guy. 

He ordered every week without fail, like clockwork. 

“Do I have to make this delivery?” You ask your manager, wishing the ticket in your hand would burst into flames. 

It did not. 

The black ink only stared back at you as you stewed in your own misery: 

Tomura S. 

“You’re the only driver we have!” Your manager calls back to you, tossing some rice around in a wok before dropping it into a takeout container. “But after this, you’re good to go.” he placed the next order into the wok and the hiss of the food only added to the bustle of the restaurant.

You sigh, accepting your fate and crumple the receipt in your hand. It was the last delivery of the night so you find solace in at least being able to leave once you were done.

This guy was a known regular, and better known for not leaving a tip. Ever. It didn’t matter how big the order was and it didn’t matter what the weather had been outside — Tomura S. would not tip. And unfortunately for you it seemed he was more likely to order on your shift so you had to be the one to deliver. What awful luck.

Your manager waves you off after he finishes packing Tomura’s order and you step outside to your bike. It was about a fifteen minute bike ride, and the sweet promise of going home was all the motivation you needed to get it over and done. You put the order in the front basket of your bike and were off, hitting more than a few bumps in the road on your way.

Once you reach the apartment complex, you set your bike aside and head up to his door.

You’ve been here many times before, but that doesnt stop the nerves. 

Tomura was an… interesting fellow. Never a smile on his face and rarely a thank you. 

You steel yourself at the door of his apartment, taking a breath before raising your fist to knock. Maybe today would be different, you ponder, shifting your weight to cool your nerves. Maybe he would tip generously and send you on your way.

Everything could all be a big misunderstanding and you start to feel yourself get a little hopeful. He could be a nice guy under that rocky demeanor — maybe you’ve misjudged him.

The door opens with a little too much force and a vermillion glare meets your eyes. 

You feel yourself falter under his gaze. “Um, Tomura?" You put on the best smile you could and extend your arm, the bag of takeout presented to him. "Here’s your order.”

He looks down at the bag and then back up to you — carmine eyes giving away ill hidden boredom before ripping it from your hand and turning on his heels. The slam of his door making you jolt as you strained to hear his muttered thanks. So quiet you’re sure you may have imagined it. 

It would be generous to say you were shocked, but tonight had not been a kind night to you. A few too many potholes on your way here and a few too little tips given out has your lips pursed and fists clenching in anger. You had just about had it with this man. 

What was his deal? You come all this way, make sure his food is hot — hell, you even smile and that's still not enough. Well, you were done playing nice and found your fist tapping against his door before your brain could process your actions.

In less than a few seconds the door swung open, this time a much more annoyed Tomura greeting you. 

“What?” He rasped, face turned down into a scowl, much different from his earlier indifference. 

You don't waver, “What is your deal?”

His brows shoot up in surprise, “Excuse me?”

“I said, what is your deal? I’ve been delivering to you for months and not a single time have you tipped me! You know that's how I make a living right? It's just unfair.” you huff, exasperated.

This seems to surprise him further, and if you weren't crazy you would think that was amusement on his lips. “Tip? Is that what you want?”

You are surprised, but you nod. 

He huffs, taking a step back, “Fine.”

And then he’s gone. 

You’re not sure if he intends for you to follow him inside the apartment, but you have an idea that he wouldn't leave his door open otherwise — so, against your better judgment, you go in. 

It's dark in the apartment, and not very spacious. The dim lighting gives you little to work with but the blue light from the idle game screen playing on the tv in the living room helps you make out what you're looking at. Tomura has already gone deeper into the home, no doubt to his bedroom or wherever he may keep his money. You decide to stay where you are in the living room and look around a little.

The space wasn’t… awful, messy — yes, but not disgusting. It looked average to what any other twenty-something living alone would look like. 

You try not to make a habit of getting to know customers you deliver to, but judging from the nintendo switch docked near his television, it seems you may have a little in common. 

What surprises you are the anime figurines and plushies lining the bookshelf near the television. He didn’t strike you as a plushie enjoyer. Finding yourself smiling, you walk over to one. A green dino with goofy teeth and cute eyes. Cute. You reach out to touch it, the plushie feeling as soft as it looked.

The sound of footsteps on hardwood break your focus and you look back to see a grumpy Tomura, looking through his – assumedly empty –  wallet, “I don’t have any cash on me.”

His hair is fluffy and white, but looks a pale blue in the hue of the paused game on the television screen. His frustration is prominent in his scowl and you take this moment to really look at him, carmine eyes focused and brooding. He was taller than you originally thought and his black shirt was loose around the collar area, exposing his collar bones and you find your eyes drifting lower. You could tell he was toned under the thin black shirt he wore but you had never had a chance to really notice. Unconsciously, you lick your lips.

“Did you hear me?” 

Your eyes snap up, cheeks flushing, “Y-yeah!”

He huffed, irritation obvious but continued anyway, “well, what do you want?”

You don't know what you want anymore. If he doesn't have cash then it doesn’t matter. This seems like it may have just been an oversight on his part, so you may be better off letting this go. Maybe he would order again and tip you extra next time.

You take a few steps forward, every intention to walk by him and get to the front door when you stop, finally responding to his question, “nothing, just remember next time.” Your gaze catches his and then drifts lower, to his lips. Tomura catches the trail of your gaze and it forces you to look away. You swore there was a hint of a smile on his lips but maybe you were tired, it has been a long day. 

You shift your weight, ready to continue on your way out when Tomura reaches for your arm, grip tight and demanding. It takes you by surprise, but surprises you even further when he dips down and crashes his lips into yours, rough ones meeting the softness of yours. The kiss is not smooth or slow, but needy and hungry, Tomura playfully nipping your bottom lip before pulling away. 

“I have an idea,” he breathes and pulls you by the hand to his couch, falling ungracefully onto it and in an instant he's on top of you. 

Your cheeks are burning as you place both palms onto his chest to halt his movements, “H-hey, what are you doing?”

His laugh is low as if you should already know the plan. “I’m going to give you your tip.” 

And then he's down again, lips warm and demanding. A moan escapes your throat and you fist a hand in his hair, overwhelmed and desperate to get more of him. His tongue swipes your bottom lip and you waste no time letting him in. His large hand trailed down your side, and you pressed closer to him. He felt intoxicating, and arousal pooled in your belly as Tomura pulled away, panting. He was just as flushed as you knew you were, the wild look in his eyes only making the arousal between your thighs slicker.

Tomura trailed kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving soft bites in between licks. A particularly hard bite made you gasp, gripping his shoulder and turning your head, giving him better access to your neck.

He only chuckled, sitting back and looking down at you, “You look like whore.” he spat, teasing tone in his smile. “All spread out on my couch like this.”

His hands moved to your pants, popping the buttons and pulling them down. You should stop him, tell him to wait because you barely know him and it's a little soon, but his words have you biting your lip and lifting your hips to help him get your pants down and off. 

That only makes Tomura shake his head in disbelief, a pleased smile betraying his false disappointment. 

He reaches down and presses his middle finger to your clothed cunt, rubbing soft circles and laughs, “You’re soaked. Didn’t take you for such a slut.”

The words only spurred you on, spreading your legs further and closing your eyes. It felt good to finally get some kind of contact – he was right where he needed to be. Until he pulled away, leaving you more desperate and a complaint on your lips. You stop in your tracks though as Tomura leans down, tongue licking you through your panties. 

Your hands fly to his hair, moan erupting from your lips. You’re unsure how thin his apartment walls are, but you don't care. The feeling sends pleasure shooting up your spine and your heart picks up its pace.

Tomura laps at your clothed cunt, fabric muting the full feeling but giving you enough to cry out. You find yourself grinding closer, body begging him to keep going and he obliges, only for a moment. He gives your cunt one more kiss before pulling back and pulling your soaked panties down and off, tossing them across the living room. 

He wastes no time diving back in, tongue licking a strip from your hole to your clit and your back arches. The hold you have on Tomura’s hair is so tight, you're sure it’s painful at this point, but he only groans, wet muscle lapping your clit eagerly. Your thighs reflexively try to close, but Tomura is faster, hand stopping them and thumb rubbing soothing circles. 

“Oh, god,” you squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure building quickly and you will yourself not to go over – not yet. That would be embarrassing. 

You feel the pressure in your abdomen tighten and it's clear you won't last much longer. Tomura took that moment to suck your sensitive nub and you spill over, mouth open in a silent moan and thighs quivering.

Tomura rides you through it, only pulling away from his ministrations once you catch your breath. “That soon, huh?” There's no bite to his words and you only give him a halfhearted glare, heavy lidded eyes still reeling from your orgasm. 

You’re distracted and don’t notice Tomura’s not finished with his antics. It wasn’t until you felt a digit pressing at your heat, slipping in slowly and making you mewl in pleasure. You were soaked, and the pressure making your head loll onto the armrest of the couch. It felt so full already. 

“Ah!” you gasped, feeling the familiar glide of Tomura’s tongue against your oversensitive clit once more. 

It was almost too much, your cries reaching new heights as he pumped his digit in and out of your sopping cunt, juices from your arousal mixing with his saliva. He was taking his time building your next orgasm, moving slow and steady, making your toes curl in pleasure. 

The push of a second finger against your hole had you tapping Tomura’s shoulder, “t-too much! Tomura!” 

Your cries fell on deaf ears as he continued, tip of his tongue flicking your clit as the second finger pushed in to join the first, waisting no time fucking you in earnest. His fingers were thick and the feeling of being so full made you dizzy, pleasure spiraling as you tried to ground yourself mentally. You grabbed Tomura’s shoulder, fisting his shirt in your hand as you lost yourself in the pleasure once more. 

Tomura’s motions ceased as his eyes met yours. You could only imagine how blissed out you looked in this moment, breath ragged and sweat clinging to your brow. Tomura wasn’t much better off — he was as desperate as you, hair splayed in wild directions after your hands ravaged through it. You open your mouth – impatient words on the tip of your tongue and Tomura curls his fingers, digits hitting that spongy spot inside that made you see stars.

He flattens his tongue, giving your clit a final lap and it sends you over – for the second time tonight. 

Your back arches and your legs shake as your orgasm washes over you. The feeling sends waves of pleasure throughout your body, eyes squeezed shut and mind buzzing. 

Tomura watches as you come apart, palming his erection in awe. You meet his eyes once you come down from your second high of the night and Tomura wastes no time in crashing his lips to yours, clumsy and wet. You could taste yourself on his lips and groan when he pulls you closer. 

There's a trail of saliva linking the two of you once he pulls away, but Tomura’s heavy gaze is only on you. He leans back in once more to give you a much softer kiss, before pulling away again and giving the same soft kiss on your cheek — heat rushing to them for reasons entirely different from what just transpired between you both. 

It was very… intimate – in a way you did not expect from someone who had just called you a slut. 

It makes you want to reach out for him when he pulls away further, eyes seemingly pondering something you’re unaware of. He looked down at you one more time, before looking to his television and his unopened takeout bag on the coffee table. 

“My show is about to start, so…” he starts, picking up the remote to change the channel of the television, screen lighting up and noise filling the room. You stare as Tomura sits back and gets comfortable, opening his takeout bag and removing the contents. 

Was he… was he kicking you out right now? Seriously? 

Your brows fly up, eyes widened in disbelief — his lack of reaction at your scoff only proves you right. He was kicking you out. Bullshit. The humiliation is evident as you scurry to find your pants, not bothering to find wherever the hell he tossed your underwear earlier, and get the hell out of there before you said something you would regret. 

The only thing on your mind was the front door as you brushed by Tomura one last time. 

“Hey!” he called, gluing you to your spot. Your heart jumped as you turned back to him vaguely hoping he would offer you to stay a little longer.

That small flame of hope died as soon as it came because Tomura was only extending your long forgotten phone to you. 

You snatch the device from his hand and make your way out the door, face burning and legs still tingling from the way he made you come undone mere moments before. 

Once you reach your bike you find yourself huffing in annoyance. What else did you expect? Him to offer you some of his takeout? That would just be silly. You’re walking your bike to the sidewalk, ready to hop on and go back to the restaurant – sure your manager is worried sick about his only driver – before your phone buzzes in your back pocket. 

Tomura S.

Your eyes widened as you read a text from the name you knew you hadn't saved in your contacts before. 

You forgot my drink.

[tinycoffeeroom]

birds of a feather | daniel ricciardo

face claim: N/A ♡

request: here !

pairing: daniel ricciardo x british!reader

cw: mentions of chr*stian horner, singapore gp 2024

a/n: sorry for the long hiatus but i just had to come back and make something for danny. i've loved that man since i got into f1 and the idea that i won't see him on track anymore hurts so deeply. thank you for the memories honey badger, you will always have a place here on tinycoffeeroom <3

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Hi baby.

Hi love.

You sound exhausted, did you not sleep well last night?

Not really, I've been trying to go over strategies with the team, but nothing seems to be working. There's no way I'm getting in the points this week.

I'm sorry Danny, I know how much you've been working on this...

Have you asked them about that power unit thingy you were talking about?

Yeah... they don't have the time to test it and add it in before this race or even COTA.

What about the new rear wing?

Well...

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Anyway, enough about this shit show. How are you, darling? I miss you.

I miss you too, pretty boy. It sucks that this conference overlaps the race, I wish I was there so bad. Just wanna hug you.

Me too, y/n. Me too. I'm coming back as soon as the race is over. At least we have 4 weeks before the next one. Did you manage to book time off?

I did! 2 whole weeks to follow you across the globe watching you strut your stuff! Hopefully we can get Horsey back for the memories.

Blake's been emailing the owner, so hopefully Horsey will make a reappearance. (LAUGHS)

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Oh wait, Helmut's calling me, I'll call you back babe.

Ok! Lemme know what he says!

Always do. Love you.

Love you too pretty boy.

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It had been a last minute decision, choosing to fly out to Singapore. You knew Daniel would never put his own needs above yours, and while the conference was important for your career, he was important to you too.

It had been easy getting everything sorted. By the time you were texting Blake about flying over, he had already sent you a message, a simple "you know?".

A quick email to your boss, a semi lie spun about a family emergency, and a whirlwind of packing bags later, you found yourself sitting in Heathrow.

Your fingers twitched nervously as you checked the time differences between England and Singapore, double checking Daniel wouldn't find it strange if you didn't respond to his texts for the next 13 hours.

Your flight left at 8PM Singapore time, that gave you at least 10 hours before he would wake up for the race.

Blake had sneakily upgraded your tickets to first class so you could sleep comfortably on the flight and be ready to go straight into race day, or night, when you landed.

Tapping your phone awake, you smile at the lock screen staring back at you.

You and Daniel had gone away with a few other couples from the grid, a well needed break from the stress of Formula 1. In the midst of a late night beach walk with Charles and Alex, Daniel had grabbed your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder.

Your shrieks of laughter had drawn some weird looks from those around you, but neither of you cared. You'd clawed your way back, legs settling tightly around Daniel's waist as his arms wrapped tightly around yours.

You didn't even notice the flash of Alex's phone, too enthralled in the wide smile encapsulating the man holding you, all teeth and gums and happiness dripping from him like sweet honey. A quick peck to the bridge of his nose and then the corner of his mouth was enough for him to lower you gently to the ground, arms still encompassing you tightly. 

The sound of Charles fake gagging beside you finally pulled the two of you out of the lovesick stupor you'd been caught in, eyes roaming the shadows cast across your lover's face from the fading sunset. 

When Alex had texted you the photo once you were back in the hotel room, limbs wrapped around one another in the cool, air conditioned room, you'd chuckled lightly, drawing Daniel's attention. 

"What's so funny?" The hand gripping your thigh draped lazily across his lap squeezed once, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly. 

Turning the phone to face him, you watched his eyes light up, that same dazzling smile spreading as he took in the photo. 

"Send that to me."

You hummed in response, airdropping the photo to him as he pulled your thigh higher up his lap. As he leaned forward, lips searching for yours under the dim lamp light, you quickly set the photo as your lock screen, no doubt in your mind that Daniel would soon do the same. 

A tannoy drags you back to the present. 

"All passengers for flight SIA324, please make your way to the gate. Boarding will begin in 15 minutes."

Typing out a quick goodnight message to Daniel, you pocket your phone, sighing as you make your way towards what could be the last time you see Daniel in a Formula 1 car.

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ynstagram uploaded three stories to their close friends

replies:

lilymhe 💔 if i knew you were coming to singapore, i would have come too! ↳ ynstagram was a last minute decision sorry babe xx ↳ lilymhe ... don't tell me ↳ ynstagram 🙃

maxverstappen1 how did you get time off?? i thought you were super busy with work ↳ ynstagram claimed a family emergency, even if danny doesn't want me here, i needed to come ↳ maxverstappen1 he needs you y/n, more than i think even he knows

landonorris does dan know you're coming? ↳ ynstagram nope, blocked him from my close friends for a bit ↳ landonorris sneaky, i like it ↳ landonorris see you soon y/n, glad you'll be here :)

iamrebeccad you're coming to the gp??? come to ferrari hospitality if you can!!!! alex misses you 🥺 ↳ ynstagram don't think i'll be leaving vcarb this weekend, we can meet up for brunch soon though 🩷 ↳ iamrebeccad oh... yeah sure, just let me know 💜

blakefriend hope you got to the hotel alright, me and dan are out for his training session, did you get the keycard ok? ↳ ynstagram i did, and the paddock passes. thanks for this blake, i know with everything going on, last minute admin is the last thing you need ↳ blakefriend if it means dan can have some sense of calm in this mess, i'd do it 10 times over ↳ blakefriend we'll be back at 1pm, see you in a few hours ↳ ynstagram 🫡 see you then

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Getting from the airport to the hotel had been easy enough. Piling the bags you had brought from Monaco to London and now to Singapore onto the only trolley remaining, you make your way down to the Arrivals.

Stepping through the automatic doors, your eyes dart between the people around you. Families reuniting with bright laughter and happy tears, lovers sharing intimate kisses under the harsh airport lights. Businessmen already glued to the phone in their hands as they weave through bodies with ease, their bodies twisting and turning like a well rehearsed waltz.

A man in a black suit jacket and oversized chauffeur hat catches your eye, his eyes following your figure as you try to move around the other passengers. You glance down at the large piece of paper held just above his waist. 

“Y/N L/N” is scrawled in large black letters across the paper, chicken scratch that looks very much like Blake’s.

Making your way over, the man tips the edge of his chauffeur hat slightly, reaching a hand out to shake yours. 

You want to apologise for the clamminess of your palms as you accept his welcome, but before you can speak, he’s reaching across to take the trolley from you, his head tilting briefly in the opposite direction.

You follow behind him, feet double stepping to keep up as he expertly navigates the sprawling grounds of Singapore Airport. 

By the time you reach the car out front, a sheen of sweat covers your upper lip and you cringe, feeling your t-shirt slowly cling to your back. 

The man opens the boot, then the back door and ushers you in. The cold air conditioning feels like a welcome home kiss, brushing away the humidity that clings to your skin from the small journey between the airport and the car. By the time the man sits in the driver's seat, your eyes are slipping closed, head lolling against the headrest behind you. 

You didn’t mean to sleep for the entire car journey, but you’d barely been able to rest for more than 20 minutes on the flight, opting instead to cycle through nonsense films to play in the background as the thoughts in your mind waged a war on your emotions. 

It had been a tense 13 hours, trying to work out what had happened on that phone call between Daniel and Helmut. You knew there were talks of him not extending his contract, but leaving mid season?

Your Danny? The self proclaimed and well known Honey Badger, king of late braking and divebombing his grid mates. You’d been with him since the Red Bull days, and even if he wasn’t winning podiums, or even points sometimes, you thought there would be more of an uproar about this from him. 

This wasn’t the same man you’d watch nearly fight a waiter because he refused to bring you a new meal after they’d brought out a completely different dish, the same man who left everything on the tarmac and often dragged you to his trailer post race interviews for a well deserved nap. 

His texts had been despondent, almost like he believed this was the goodbye he deserved. 

That’s the part you couldn’t move past. The idea that he was going to finish his last race without the flair of Daniel Ricciardo, no doughnuts, no grid walk, no party to celebrate the last 13 years. 

After the McLaren debacle, you understood why he chose to fly under the radar. With COVID and the situation with Oscar, he’d been more than willing to slip away peacefully but this was different. 

This was Red Bull. Or the subsidiary at least. The team he’d spent the longest time in Formula 1 with. The team who took him in as a junior, that he’d won 7 Grand Prix’s with, scored well over 1000 points racing for. 

You would have thought that they would have wanted to give him a goodbye worthy of what he had brought to the team.

By the time the chauffeur shakes you gently awake, your mind is no clearer but one thing is for sure. Daniel will not face this storm alone.

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The time of Daniel getting back from his workout was looming slowly. Since entering the hotel room, you’d hopped in the shower, scrubbing the aeroplane smell from you. The suitcases were lined up against the wall and you were currently lazing on the bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok. Every so often, you’d flick to the notification screen, just in case Blake’s incoming text had somehow slipped past without you catching it. 

Your eyes flutter slowly closed, maybe a 10 minute nap wouldn’t hurt. Before you can lock your phone and settle into the plush pillows, a notification pings through. Eyes darting open, you catch the banner notification before it slides up. 

They were in the lobby. 

“Fuckin’ hell Blake.” Scrambling up from the bed, you round the corner and make sure there is no sign of you in the living room section. Your shoes are tucked away in the bottom of the closet, jacket strewn across the chair in the corner of the bedroom. 

The telltale ring of a keycard being swiped rings through the air and you slide to hide behind the wall, heart thumping against your chest. Doubt begins to swirl through your mind. What are you even doing here? What if he didn’t invite any of his family or friends because he didn’t want them to see him go out like this? Would he want you to? 

Loud voices echo through the hallway, Aussie slang thrown about but you focus on the one thick with a Perth twang. 

Your Danny. 

“Mate, I’m just gonna go point Percy at the porcelain.” Blake’s voice grows louder as he walks through to the bedroom. He locks eyes with you, giving you a quick one armed hug as you exchange quiet greetings. 

Once enough time has passed, he gestures with a finger to his lips to be quiet, head popping around the corner to Daniel. 

“Did you bring Y/N’s jacket with you by mistake?”

A confused “No” comes from the living room before Blake leans across you, grabbing the clothing from the chair. He holds it aloft, in Daniel’s line of sight. 

“No idea what that’s doing here, mate. You know I always bring a t-shirt of Y/N’s which should be under the pillow.”

Your heart swells at the statement, you had no idea he’d sneak something of yours with him whenever you couldn’t attend races. The earlier doubts dissipate, you knew right here, with Daniel, was where you were supposed to be. 

“Strange… oh! I know what’s happened.” Blake shoots you a grin before wrapping a hand around your arm, pulling you into the doorway. 

Smiling softly at Daniel, you huff lightly at the way his eyes widen almost comically as he takes you in. Silence spreads through the room, the two of you locked in intense eye contact as Blake slowly moves aside to let you reunite. 

“Hello, my love.”

Daniel’s bottom lip wobbles slightly and before you can process it, he’s launched across the room, almost body slamming you with the force he runs at you with. Arms latch tightly around your waist, his head tucked tightly into your neck, trembling lips resting against your pulse point. 

“What, I, how?” The words are muffled against your skin, the edges of them tear soaked as the collar of your t-shirt dampens to match. 

Carding your hand through his still sweaty curls, you scratch lightly against his scalp. “As soon as you told me, Blake texted me. He booked me on the next flight.”

Daniel’s head pops out from his hiding place, all three of you ignoring the tears smattering his cheeks. He looks across to Blake, who simply shrugs his shoulders, reaching down to grab his gym bag. 

“You needed them, and they needed you. It was a no brainer. Also, don’t get sappy with me, I charged the flight to your business card.” A chuckle follows and he claps Daniel on the back once, nodding in your direction before heading out the front door, the sound of it closing echoing slightly. 

Daniel’s eyes track from the closing door back to you, wide in wonderment. “But your conference?”

Shrugging, you lean forward to press a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek. “Called in a family emergency. There’s no way I was letting you go through this alone.” You lift your hand up to his face, tracing a path across the same cheek you’d just kissed. “I know your parents or your friends can't be here, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to deal with everything going on with no kind of support. I know Blake’s here but-”

You’re cut off by his lips covering yours, desperation seeping through as the words die on your tongue. The taste of salt blooms, the tears still dripping slowly from his eyes. Yours join in quick succession. A rushed “I love you” slips from your mouth the moment you part, his own coming straight after. 

The slide of his lips against your own turns molasses slow, the cooled sweat on both of you soon making way for its heated counterpart as you gravitate closer to one another. Warm hands sneak under your t-shirt, the palms cupping the swell of your hips as Daniel whispers words of gratitude through stolen breaths. Your own hands rest against his neck, nails creating slight grooves under the pressure. 

Knowing what will come tomorrow, you take in this moment, second by second. The feel of his sweat slick skin under your palms, the slight stubble on his jaw scratching at your chin, the way his heart beats erratically in his chest pressed close to yours. 

Every part of this Daniel you memorise, capturing each memory in a gold plated frame. You store them away in the evergrowing gallery of your brain dedicated to the man before you, seal them under lock and key for your eyes only. 

You always knew that one day, you’d share them with him. When all the racing was over and the two of you had the house with the white picket fence, or more aptly, the farm with the white picket fence. You’d dissect every moment of him you stored away, stacked one by one for safekeeping. From the moment the two of you met in that busy London street, every grand prix win, every high followed by every low. Just in case he began to forget the man he was, the man he would still be. 

You just didn’t realise that day would be coming so soon. 

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ynstagram danielricciardo

[caption 2: gorgeous boy xx]

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After the race, you’d left Daniel to his own devices. You knew he would want to spend his time wandering around the track, soaking in every moment of what could be his last ever race. 

Grabbing a ride back with Blake, the two of you stick to small talk, neither able to formulate the words you truly wanted to say. 

He’d given you a brief goodbye in the lobby, arms wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before the two of you separated, him taking the stairs and you choosing to ride in the elevator. 

Shuffling through the front door, you kick your shoes off, nudging them next to the other pairs in the entryway. On the way up, you’d sent Daniel a quick text to let you know when he was on his way back. 

Expecting him to respond around midnight, you slowly work through your nighttime routine, opting to wear one of his shirts to bed instead of the pyjamas you’d neatly packed. 

Slipping into bed, you unlock your phone, squinting at the brightness. Still no messages from Daniel, the 1:27am at the top of your phone making you sigh deeply. Reaching over, you plug your phone onto charge before starting up a well loved podcast, choosing an episode you could probably quote from memory with how often you relistened to it. 

As the dulcet voices fall away to background noise, you settle in for the night, head half shoved into the pillow beside you, Daniel’s scent still lingering from this morning.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Blearily opening your eyes as the other side of the bed dips lightly, you quickly tap your phone to see the time. A bold 3:57am blinks back at you briefly before the screen goes dark once more. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry babe.” Daniel’s voice whispers in the darkness, hand winding its way around your waist to pull you back to his chest. 

Resting your hand over his, fingers interlocking in the open spaces, you squeeze twice. “s’ok, wanted to see you when you got back anyway.”

Silence follows and before you can roll over to look at Daniel, his face presses into the centre of your shoulder blades, the skin warm through the fabric of the shirt.

“Danny?”

He stays quiet, the hand on your waist gripping tighter. You can hear the way his breath starts to shake on the inhale, the tears from his eyes slowly dampening the back of his shirt currently wrapped around you. 

“Danny, lemme see you.” A shake of his head rustles the shirt. “Baby, please.”

His grip on your waist loosens and you shuffle around carefully, trying to avoid shoving an elbow in his ribs and adding further insult to injury. 

You can hardly make out his face, the small amount of moonlight shining through the haphazardly closed curtains barely illuminating the curve of his cheek. It does catch the glint of his honey brown eyes, tears shimmering along his lash line. 

“Oh, my love.” Your heart breaks at the sight of the man in front of you, a shell of who you’ve come to know and love. The pressure behind your eyes builds, tears threatening to mirror Daniel’s. “C’mere.”

One hand wrapping around the back of his neck, you pull him to lay against you. He burrows in, head pressed tight into the junction between your neck and shoulder, a sombre juxtaposition to this morning. 

“This is the end. Everything I’ve worked for, over. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” His arm wraps tight around your waist once more, his leg coming to rest between yours. “I’m officially a has-been.” A wet chuckle escapes him, the noise too loud in the surrounding silence. 

You can’t stop yourself from tapping the back of his neck lightly. He knows you hate when he talks like that. “No one’s allowed to talk about the man I love like that.”

His head lifts from your neck to throw you a quick glance. “Even if it’s the man himself?”

Pulling him back to rest against your neck, you run your hands through his hair gently, twirling the longer strands around one of your fingers. “Especially if it’s the man himself. You’re not a has-been, never will be. You’re so talented in so many different ways, there will never be a time you can say you’re past your prime or whatever stupid shit is running around that gorgeous head of yours.” Your fingers tap against his scalp to drive the point home. “Even if you never step foot in one of those cars again, you’ve got your dirt biking, the wine company, Enchante, the 17 other high intensity sports you do that raise my blood pressure every time I watch. You’re smart enough to know how to adapt, and that is what you’ll do. I know it.”

“You seem very sure.” His voice comes out muffled from its spot against your neck, his breath tickling your skin. 

“That’s because I am. I was by your side during the papaya setback, I saw how you came back stronger. That’s what this situation is too, a setback. You’ll find a way through, even if I have to stand by the solution with a flashlight to guide you that way.” 

He chuckles, the edges of his voice no longer tainted with sorrow. “Can you still not say their name?”

You join his laughter, remembering the last time you’d spoken about McLaren. “Last time I mentioned that company, I got a cease and desist. Don’t think Zac was too happy with the way I was deservedly slagging them off.” Your nose wrinkles as you think back to the snottily worded email and attached letter that dropped into your inbox a few days after your last public comment about their shitty management. “So I promised to never let that name slip from my lips again.”

The room falls silent again, just for a moment. The two of you still tangled in an embrace, even as the first prickles of sweat bead against your hairline from the heat of your bodies in the warm Singapore evening. 

Daniel sighs, shuffling minutely to run a hand up and down the length of your side. “I just… I remember when I was 20. Being so excited to get into an actual F1 car, even as a tester. I remember jumping out, seeing that I was the fastest and thinking ‘this is it. This is my chance.’ I wanted to be a Red Bull driver so bad, with every part of me. To win a race, maybe even win a world championship, leave a legacy behind. And now I’ve wasted over a decade of my life with only 8 race wins to show for it. Not even a championship. What kind of legacy does that leave me?”

The sorrow creeps back into his voice, and you have to clear your throat before responding, willing the tears back once more. “A legacy doesn’t have to mean winning a world championship. Or even a race. Think about Jacky Ickx, Stirling Moss, Juan Pablo Montoya. All legends in their own right, but none of them had a world championship. If this was your last race in Formula 1, you leave behind a legacy in your own right. People will know your name for years, even decades to come. King of the late brakers, the guy who always had a smile and a kind word to say about everyone he ever met; even if they didn’t deserve it, the aptly named Honey Badger. Just because you don’t leave behind a legacy in being number 1, doesn’t mean you won’t be up there with the greats.”

Daniel hums, taking in your words, dissecting them one by one. “I’m scared. Where do I go now? Do I even try to come back? Move to a different company entirely? Retire officially and retreat to the farm? I don’t know who I am without Formula 1.”

You take a moment to think about the situation for yourself. A world where Daniel Ricciardo is no longer a Formula 1 driver. It always seemed so impossible to you, the company so deeply ingrained into his being that the very idea of him would cease to exist without it in his life. 

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” Your hand continues to card through his hair, a soothing gesture. Whether it was meant to soothe him or you, you weren’t too sure. “I wouldn’t even know where to start with advice, I’ve never had to walk in your shoes. But that doesn’t need to be something to think about right now. Enjoy some downtime, go home and spend time with your family, race dirt bikes around different parts of the world, go see Scotty and Chloe. The future is still so bright for you, Danny. And I’m just happy that I get to be beside you through it all.”

Slowly, he raises his head from its perch, bright eyes finding yours. Despite the situation, you swear he’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment. Teeth bitten lips find yours in the dim light, clumsy and fierce, but perfect in its own right. 

“I love you. So fucking much. From the first day we met and you shouted at me for splashing you with a puddle, I knew you were the one. Thank you for never leaving.”

You laugh aloud, remembering how you’d been late for university, umbrella thrashing in the England wind, when a bike had come up dangerously close beside you, running straight through a puddle and covering your jeans in muddy water. 

After a long rant at the rider, you’d looked up into apologetic golden eyes and high cheekbones, and immediately the anger had dissipated. “And I love you. Maybe not from the puddle moment, but you won me over nearly immediately after. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, with you.”

This is the moment. The moment to open the gallery in your mind to the man in front of you. To recall each and every moment you’d captured in glossy oils and remind him of who he is, who he always has been. 

And then Daniel lays his head back down to your chest, lips pressing an appreciative kiss to the shirt underneath, warmth blossoming through the fabric to your skin below. And the moment passes. 

Pressing your head back into the pillow below, you listen to how Daniel’s breathing slows, settling down as he drifts off to sleep. The perfect moment will come back. There’s still time.

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liked by fan, fan and 982,167 others

formula1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced

see 238,816 others

fan what the fuck

fan not danny ric 💔💔

fan we just got him back😭😭😭

fan helmut marko watch your back.

user lol not surprised, we all knew he was washed ↳ fan 123.456.789.012 ↳ user did i just get doxxed?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

👤 danielricciardo liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 890,274 others

ynstagram the man of many names. danny ric, ricky bobby, honey badger and most importantly, the love of my life. i've loved you for 6 summers and i'll love you for 600 more.

in the words of our favourite musical, wherever you go i won't be far to follow. whether it's in the navy of the bulls, papaya of [REDACTED], the bee striped renault or the dazzling white of vcarb, you bring so much light and happiness everywhere you go, and i've been privileged to bask in the warmth of you.

and until the next adventure, i will always be here to remind you of the power and strength you inhabit, the souls you've breathed life into and the happiness you've brought to the sport you love (sometimes more than me) for over a decade.

always and forever, your y/n x

see 10,286 other comments

fan anyone else absolutely sobbing right now?? ↳ fan as if his post wasn't enough to make me bawl, ofc y/n drops this

fan to have a love like y/n and danny...

fan not y/n censoring mclaren, they hate that damn team so much ♥️ ynstagram

danielricciardo my darling, i love you, always and forever ❤️ ↳ ynstagram so excited for our future, whatever it holds ❤️

landonorris thanks y/n max is crying now 👍 ↳ ynstagram 🤣 which one? ↳ maxfewtrell both ↳ maxverstappen1 both

alexandrasaintmleux 🩷 we need another double date when you're back in monaco x ↳ ynstagram do we have to bring them? ↳ danielricciardo on my own dedication post... wow ↳ ynstagram 🤷 gotta show my girl love whenever i can

fan helmut better hide, y/n doesn't play when it comes to their man ↳ fan fr don't let the sappy post fool you, ik they have a hitlist in their notes

fan him leaving before COTA is so messed up, he loves that track 😭😭😭 ↳ ynstagram wish you guys could have seen the special helmet :( ↳ fan OH HELMUT MARKO WHEN I CATCH U!!!!!!! ↳ fan special helmet... pls we need to see i BEG

lewishamilton with you by his side, the future is bright for the honey badger 🤍 ↳ ynstagram thanks lew 🩷 ↳ danielricciardo thanks man :)

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a/n: this is not proof read, so ignore any mistakes. i can't wait to see what danny does in the future, whatever it is, i'll be supporting him all the way <3

[retroaria]

Dress Up ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

Itoshi Sae x fem!reader | suggestive!! (MDNI) | BLLK M.LIST

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“You should wear that tonight.”

“Sae, this is a slip, it’s see through, you want me to flash the whole JFU?”

“I didn’t mean wear it to dinner, I meant after.”

You rolled your eyes and slipped out of the sheer chiffon garment, tossing it into the “yes” pile beside your boyfriend. His eyes felt like daggers on your skin as he watched you put on the next dress you had picked out for the JFU Banquet tonight.

“Are you enjoying yourself Sae?” You said in a teasing tone. Mocking at the fact he was here against his will about to spend well over a few thousand on you because he couldn’t come up with a better apology.

“If you wanted to punish me you shouldn’t have given me such a good view.” He sat idle on a bench in the dressing room of some designer store in Tokyo, slouched against the wall, watching his pretty girlfriend play dress up. Money wasn’t much to the football prodigy, but this show you were giving him was everything. If forgetting to remind you about the event until the night before your flight back to Spain is what got him here, he might have to start being more forgetful. “If you want I’ll buy you another ticket back for tomorrow afternoon.”

“I might as well just stay and go back to Spain with you. We have houseplants you know? All by themselves right now and you don’t even care.” You pouted at him as you stepped into yet another dress you didn’t really like, drawing out your pout even more. “When did fashion get so boring.”

“I like that one, it’s classy.” Sae eyed you up and down, noticing how the dress hugged your curves in a rather seductive way. It was long and black with lace detailing on the trims, sculpting out the upper curve of your breasts. You thought you looked like a nun, but his thoughts on it were far from holy. “I’ll get it for you, just not for tonight.”

“Could you stop being a perv for two seconds and actually pick one that you want me in tonight?” You spat at him as you reached backwards to unzip the dress.

“Wait-“ Sae said as he emerged from his seat to walk up behind you. He placed his hands on your hips, both of you facing the mirror, reflective glass serving as the apex where both your eyes met. His hands began to graze the length of your sides, his fleeting touch making you tickle beneath him. At this point his body was fully pressed along your backside. He dipped his head down into the crook of your neck planting soft kisses.

You swayed your head to the side, granting him further access. Your body was truly betraying your thoughts right now. “We don’t have time for this. I have to pick something.”

His only response was a “mhmm” that vibrated against your skin. His touch turned from grazes to gropes as he squeezed the fat of your hips, pulling them backwards into his pelvis. He wasn’t hard yet, but the way he was playing with your body was sure to get him there.

You still stood tense in his touch, not wanting to give in as you knew there was no time to fuck him in the dressing room when you still had to pick a dress and get ready for the event. However, he didn’t seem to care. His kisses made their way down to your exposed shoulders, his left hand gliding up your body until it wrapped around your neck. He turned you to face him, stopping his soft kisses to look at you. “Let me take this off.”

His voice was as stern and assertive as ever. As if he commanded you too, your body released itself of all previous tension, allowing you to melt into your boyfriend’s grasp. He pushed you forward away from his stance, taking in the view of your backside wrapped in this tight silky satin.

As he unzipped the dress you remained still, letting the straps fall delicately off your shoulders as the rest of it descended down your body in one fell swoop. You could hear Sae hum behind you in delight. He pulled you against him once again, harsher this time, his clothed bulge digging into your ass. With his hand still wrapped against your neck he motioned your face towards him once again to lock your lips with his. Sae’s kisses were always deep and sensual, making your body flutter in his hold. His free hand went back down to your hips, holding you still as he rutted his hips into you. The two of you moaned into the kiss, his tongue sliding across your lower lip, asking- no, demanding entrance. He deepened the kiss, but just as soon as he did, he pulled away. Pulled away from you entirely and took a step back, leaving you a little colder than before. “You’re right we should get going.”

His deadpan expression after all of that left you dumbfounded, a flush shade of red marking up your cheeks. You watched as he picked up every item you came in to try on without even thinking to separate them. “W-wait Sae there’s still time for me to finish trying on the others.”

He turned back to you, walking close enough to raise your chin with his free hand. Pulling you into a softer, slower kiss this time, as if to shut you up. His hand left your chin and reached down to grab your wrist before placing your hand over his groin to cup the shape of his cock begging for release in his jeans. “I gotta get you back to the hotel, you can finish your little fashion show there when I’m done with you.” He broke the kiss and completely removed himself from you once again. “I’ll pay for these. Get dressed and meet me at the car.”

Before you could process anything he was already exiting the dressing room, locking the door behind him. You realized he had taken everything but the clothes you came in with, intending to buy all of them without even considering if you wanted them or not. It took his lack of presence and warmth against your body for you to notice the pool of wetness that had gathered between your panties and your heat. As if his urgency had rubbed off on you, you found yourself dressed and out of the dressing room in mere minutes. A twist of excitement emerging from within you at the thought of what awaited you back at the hotel.

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I was never really a Sae girl until tumblr corrupted me and now here I am !!! - aria

[eternally-racing]

need you now | lando norris (+ oscar)

genre: smut , maybe fluff if you squint

wc: <1k (short n sweet 😌)

pairing: lando norris x reader, with a surprise appearance from #81 himself (read and find out hehehe)

warnings: female masturbation, phone sex (ish), voyeurism, dirty talk

rating: R - minors DNI

summary: calling your boyfriend Lando to complain about being horny seems to turn into so much more.

- - - - - - - -

“Landooooooo” you’re whining to your phone camera. You’re throwing a tantrum like a child and you know it, but you just can’t seem to help yourself. It’s been weeks since your boyfriend promised to visit, and after Lando was supposed to come home last weekend but got called into the factory for some last minute meetings, you’re more than a little… frustrated, to say the least. 

You know Lando can tell too. He’s cheeky enough to want to make you squirm, putting on that all knowing smile that you love so much. These conversations have become all too frequent between you two - you nestled into your sheets at home, Lando relaxing in his driver’s room during any free time he has on a race weekend. You’re even wearing one of Lando’s old shirts, and from the way that your nipples are poking through it it’s all too easy for him to tell how horny you are. 

“Lan you don’t understand, it’s like I just need to be fucked. Not a want, a NEED. and you’re not here and it’s the worst.” There are of course much bigger problems in the world, but for a girl who knows the touch of Lando Norris and hasn’t felt it in weeks, this feels like torture. 

Once you get going on the topic, you’ve set the train into motion and there’s no stopping it. Lando of course doesn’t stop you at all, what better feeling is there than your girl talking about how much she misses your dick?”  

“My poor baby” Lando says sweetly with a tinge of sarcasm that makes you roll your eyes “your fingers just aren’t enough, are they?”

Lando knows exactly what you need to hear to egg you on and he says exactly that. “I bet you’re already wet just thinking about me coming back, aren’t you Y/N? You’re thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you when I finally get my hands on you again.” 

You can feel your thong getting so wet and you’re almost in such a sex craze that you’re willing to book a plane ticket to get halfway across the world to be with your boyfriend. If Lando’s going to play games, you can play them too. You lean over towards the camera, giving him a nice shot of your cleavage. “What are you planning to do to me, Lan?” 

And tell you he does. The filth Lando mentions to you is enough to make you feel like you could orgasm without even touching yourself, and small moans and whimpers seem to slip out of your mouth as you try to keep quiet about how much he’s affecting you. There’s promises made of orgasm after orgasm, and even the images in your head of Lando buried beyween your legs is enough to make you clench your thighs together in eagerness.

“Lan, I need you now” you mumble with glazed eyes, “look what you’ve done to me”. You’re about to show him the mess he’s made of your legs and take the oversized shirt off your body when Lando’s eyes go wide and he tells you to hold on for a second. And the words he says as he cuts off your actions make your jaw drop to the floor. 

“Babe, you might wanna say hi to Oscar.” 

You gasp audibly and almost drop your phone entirely. Lando turns the camera all too slightly to the left to show both him and Oscar now. The younger man is settled comfortably onto the couch next to your boyfriend, and the knowing look and slight red tinge to his cheeks tell you that he's been there for your entire conversation. Lando's eyes seem to flit between you and his teammate, trying to gauge if this was his best idea or worst idea ever.

You can barely look him in the eyes as you stumble through greeting Oscar. But it's not missed on Lando that you don't make any moves to cross your arms over your chest or cover yourself up in front of Oscar, and he keeps that information as something to talk to you about later.

“I should head off, mate, but if you ever need help with that problem… I’d be happy to lend a hand.” The Australian boy has the audacity to wink at you through the camera before he picks up his jacket to leave. The Oscar you see in front of you doesn’t resemble the shy, timid rookie you first met at the beginning of the year - you can’t imagine how much else has changed about him since then.

Who knows, maybe it would be worth it to take Oscar up on his offer.

[tgcg]

this is my element (+ album)

asking me to pick my fave album is like asking an orphan matron to pick her favorite baby boy

thats some weird and cruel circumstances to put upon me i feel like it changes every damn week like a rota

i mean what if my beats misbehave and i gotta put 'em in time out i cant play permanent on that theyre too cute

but yknow what i can show you one thing thats been on my mind lately

===

so when i was a kid we had this skateboard vid by "element skateboards" on DVD

they were this skateboard kit slash apparel company that was all about progressivism and shit and they did these much lauded comp tapes of dudes riding around on their boards and doing the dopest of macho tricks on the shit

flipping it turnways

putting the rock in the house like a big man

we had some of their merch actually

===

so anyways the one we had back then was This Is My Element

released 2007

mostly clips from cali i think and i mean the camerawork is fucking insane on some of those shots

this is gonna sound lame as fuck but i prob spent so many cumulative hours just peelin through the footage and ogling the shit outta it

that framing was tight

===

so you may be asking yourself or me

dave you genuine dicksucker i asked about your fav album not your favorite sordid ass display of smooth dudes hardcore riding and grinding them boards in public dude you have a problem

ok well that wasnt a question first of all so jot that down

but anyways to THAT i say

listen to the music

the whole thing has an original soundtrack of ambient beats

got some abstract hip hop jams, got some more indie stuff, lots of acoustic sampling

HELLA underground

and basically every track minus one is done by sampler beast david p. madson AKA "odd nosdam"

dude is my hero seriously

he is the master of the beat machine i shit you not hes always been kinda my idol on this stuff

aside from bro obviously

===

obviously.

===

anyways he had an E-mu SP-1200 which is a really oldschool sampler invented by dave rossum in the late 80s

revolutionary to the hip hop scene

nosdam had this mega distinct sound to his music that i always wanted to replicate on my own beats

still do

i dont know for sure if he used it on T.I.M.E. but he uses some of the same samples from "vol. 9" which was exclusively SP-1200 so im gonna get a lil j’accuzi on that

it couldve been a boss dr sampler SP-202 though idk

he had one of those

===

so aside from beating the shit out of the pause/resume button to flip my whole cranium at the cinematography or whatever i would also kinda play it on loop to listen to the soundtrack and space out at 2am

the lonely broner seemed to free his mind at night

ok shit broner is good but i didnt mean it like that

that was goofy lets just keep movin

it was the only way i had to listen to it back then but i mean the video is 50 mins long so its basically just an odd nosdam album with accompanying ambient skater sounds and random expletives and whatever

random car sequence

yknow what i dont think people respect enough?

the dude who catches all the "mad stunts yo" on camera

i swear to god at least half the time hes ALSO on a board and that shit is bananas to me

bros gotta be on some whole other level of zen to skate good AND catch all them glamor shots of his fellow skater

thats like an express ticket to the ER imo

the ambulance is already on the scene watching you like an eager crow watches a half dead dog

===

ok gonna go ahead and lay it out flat

not great on a board myself

kinda dogshit at it actually

so maybe im not exactly an arbitrator of skateboard heinousness

but i always kinda liked watching THEM do it i mean who doesnt?

whats an even crazier layer to stack on the "dave" cake is

and dirk told me this because unfortunately it kinda happened post-2009

he would do all these collabs with one of my childhood favorite underground rappers david cohn aka serengeti

surrounded by daves left and right dude even before all the time travel horseshit

thats like

serendipitous as fuck i think!

===

if sburb was just a revolving door of artists called dave that i could bump fists with

instead of other mes in various states of aliveness tending toward extremely dead

i wouldve probably given it something higher than 2 stars on my TGN review

===

so yeah you ask me my favorite album its T.I.M.E. by odd nosdam i guess

bump that shit on a walk your mind will go places unknown to man

[shjsnjkj]

MY SUMMER LOVE┊ p.sh

kinktober day 5! - masterlist

warnings: smut, MDNI, unprotected sex, making out, pussy eating, nicknames, crying

genre: smut

taglist: @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma @moonpri @blushbunini

wc: 2,8k ✧.*

☆ sunghoon x reader ; It was August 31st, and you were heading back home tomorrow because of school. Unfortunately, sleep didn't come easily. Your mind kept replaying all the memories you had with Sunghoon this summer, except for one. The one you'll be making tonight with the help of his camera. “Fly through the deep night to you. In the thick darkness, I will hold you again”

After all that time at university, you were finally ready to travel somewhere. Somewhere you could unwind and leave all your stress from the past few months behind. You considered traveling to a new city or even a country, which seemed like a great idea. However, you didn't have anyone to travel with because your friends had other commitments during the summer. That's when you saw your grandparents coming in sight. You don't get to see them often since they live far away, but you figured it was time for a visit. After all, you went to Hawaii when you were just 10 years old. You really missed your grandparents, but video calling was a great way to keep in touch with them.

That night, you discussed the idea with your parents and purchased the tickets for yourself. In less than a week, you had packed everything you needed into two suitcases and one bag. You brought at least five bikinis and planned to buy more when you got to your destination. You pictured yourself going to the beach every day, making new friends, learning new dances, putting flowers in your hair, drinking coconut water, and doing other fun things. This was all you could think about while you were on the plane.

When you arrived, you first met your grandmother and then your grandfather, who walked behind your grandmother with a beautiful flower lei. They were more than happy to meet you. You received many compliments and hugs from them, which made you happier than ever.

On the ride home, you rolled down the car windows and put your hands out to feel the air hit your fingers and blow your hair. The first surprise to you was the house where your grandparents parked. You didn't understand where you were. You remembered that there was a normal, cute white house with a balcony and a garden in the back, but this house was almost the opposite. At the entrance, it was kind of the same, but there were trees in front of it, so you couldn't see much from the house. When you walked in, you were shocked. The house was huge! Everything was much bigger than before, there was even a pool in the backyard, not to mention the ocean view right behind it. Your bedroom also had a window overlooking the ocean, so you could admire it every time you were there. Your grandmother bought you some bikinis, straw hats and dresses. They were so pretty and you couldn't wait to wear them while you stayed here.

The other day, just before you sat down to eat, a sudden ringing of the bell interrupted you as you were putting the food on the table. Your grandmother went to see who it was, and you continued your task.

"Grandma, who was that?" -when you looked up, she wasn't alone; a boy was standing next to her.

Your eyes widened for a moment at how handsome he was. Jet black hair and deep brown eyes. He was quite tall and slim, yet muscular. You didn't want to be weird, so you looked away. You assumed he was just some neighbor's son asking for something, but your grandmother proved you wrong.

"Y/n do you remember Sunghoon?" -she asked in a soft voice.

"Uhmm, yeah? The boy who was my best friend when I was little, right?"

"Yes, oh you remember. That's good to hear, Y/n" -she became so happy.

"But why are you asking me this now, when we have a guest? What's up with him? Is he doing well?" -you put the silverware next to the plates.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Come on Grandma, I haven't seen him for ages and I don't even know where he lives anymore. How could I ask him anything?" -A long silence remained between the two of you, and you realized that you could be so stupid to say such things when Park Sunghoon himself stood right in front of you.

"Oh..." -all words stuck in your mouth.

"It's good to see you again Y/n! I missed you a lot!" -he stepped forward and gave you a big hug.

"Oh...Sunghoon...yeah it's nice to see you too!" -you hugged him back, still processing who you had just met.

Sunghoon was your best friend. Or is he still yours? You were not sure.

He, you and your 3 other friends formed a group of friends when you were little. There was nothing to do in the summer and your parents always worked, so you came here every summer and met these amazing people. Unfortunately, your friends moved to another country and you lost touch because you were little, but Sunghoon stayed and the last summer you were here in Hawaii, it was just the two of you, just like now.

He didn't stay for lunch, even though your grandmother tried to convince him, but it might be a good choice. It would be a lot for you at first. Still, you were so curious about Sunghoon. What happened to him over the years, how is he doing, does he have a girlfriend, what's up with his family and things like that. Wait, why did you care if he had a girlfriend?! Anyway, you went out to think about your feelings, accompanied by a tasty strawberry mocktail. You sat there for hours until you fell asleep and the only thing on your mind was Sunghoon.

The next day, you woke up in your room. Out of nowhere, you got up and went to your window to look at the sea, just in time for the sunrise. You were amazed by the beautiful sight when someone came into your sight. You immediately recognized that it was him, Sunghoon. He was sitting on the sand watching the sunrise just like you. Thinking that there was no reason to wait any longer, you wanted to talk to him and decided to go outside. You changed into your white bikini and wore a long white dress over it. You brushed your hair and did your morning routine in the bathroom. Then, as quietly as possible, you went out of the house and looked for Sunghoon. He was still sitting on the sand, wearing a white t-shirt and black pants. He was so good-looking you forgot that and also how much you loved him. You pushed your thoughts away and sat down next to him. He looked at you and smiled softly, then turned his gaze back to the sky.

After a few minutes, he finally began to talk to you. The two of you forgot about time and sat there until lunch. That day, he had lunch with you and was still talking about what had happened in the past years. You couldn't even remember the last time you felt this happy and free, but you knew that this feeling was everything to you and you didn't want it to end.

2 days later, Sunghoon asked you to go swimming in the late afternoon and you agreed. It was so much fun, you joked a lot and dived into the water where you saw beautiful fish and plants. As time passed, you felt more and more attracted to him. Sometimes you went out for dinner, coffee, and there were nights when you went out dancing hula and other dances. Some days you went swimming in the morning and some days you went swimming at night. You felt that Sunghoon must feel the same way because he showed you signs. Every other day, he would bring you a flower to put in your hair, making you blush every time. He took care of you and always brought happiness and a smile to your face.

One night when you went swimming, the two of you became closer. He kissed you for the first time. To be honest, you have been waiting for this moment since you were little and it finally happened. Sunghoon admitted that he felt the same and was ready to take steps towards you, but you stopped to come here. Yes, it was painful for both of you to bury your feelings in your hearts. But it was over and you were free to live your love lives this time. Your grandparents were incredibly happy for you both. They always knew how much you loved each other from the beginning, and they often invited him over for dinner, a day at the pool, or just to be with you. After a month, Sunghoon started sneaking into your room and spending the night with you. Those nights were your favorite because the way he made you feel had the power to make the whole world stand still for you.

All the love you had for each other, you couldn't describe what it did to your heart. And now it was the opposite of what you felt all these months. You just cried at the dinner table and felt that your heart was breaking because you knew that tomorrow morning Sunghoon wouldn't hold you in his arms, you wouldn't go swimming anymore, you wouldn't watch the sunrise anymore, you wouldn't see the lust in his eyes for you, you wouldn't be able to kiss his red lips anymore. At least for a year. It can be easy for someone, but not for you, you hated the idea of spending the days apart and you weren't ready for tomorrow.

Your grandparents tried to comfort you, but the tears didn't stop pouring from your eyes. The best idea was to go to sleep, but the moment you saw your suitcases ready to travel back to your hometown, it started again. Slowly you lay down on your bed and stared at the ceiling for hours because sleep didn't come easily. To be honest, you didn't even want to sleep because tomorrow would come faster and you didn't want that.

Before midnight, you heard your window open. It was Sunghoon.

"My love" - he said

"Sunghoon, what are you doing here?" -you ran to him and hugged him as tightly as ever.

"I know we talked about meeting tomorrow before you go back, but I couldn't be without you tonight Y/n" -he kissed your cheek.

"Do you know how much I cried today? I can't lose you Sunghoon" -tears started to form in your eyes for the nth time tonight.

"Baby, don't cry. It will only get worse. Look, I brought a camera for tonight."

"A camera?"

"Yeah, I was thinking about making a recording tonight. How do you feel about that?"

"How could we forget? That is a perfect idea baby. Let's do it." -you kissed him.

The next second, he put the camera down and started recording while you closed your door.

You kissed Sunghoon hungrily and he returned the kiss. You sucked on his tongue while his hands roamed all over your hot body. Goose bumps formed on your skin as his hands passed over every part of you. Soft moans left your mouth between wet kisses. He moved his left hand under your thigh and lifted your leg a little. You knew what he was going to do so you jumped and crossed your legs on his waist. He moved over to your bed and gently laid you down on the mattress. His kisses went from your lips to your jaw to your neck. You felt a little pain, but it was a good kind of pain. You assumed he was marking you and it made you feel even more lustful. His fangs would certainly leave deeper marks on you, but in no time his fingers traced the inside of your thigh. Sunghoon touched the hem of your dress and pulled your nightgown all the way up over your head. Revealing your already hardened nipples, he only reacted with a smile. He went back to your lower part, surprising you with his finger pressing against your clit over the fabric. "You're already so wet, baby. Let me make you feel better." He gave you a kiss on the lips before pulling off your white panties, which were a little stuck to your folds from the wetness. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart," he whispered before kissing your pussy as he grabbed your waist to keep you still. You felt his tongue doing all the tricks down there, making you tremble and scream inside for his touch. You closed your eyes and soon you felt Sunghoon put two fingers inside your pussy. Slowly he moves them in and out, making you see just starting from this. He watched your every move, all the sounds you made and he couldn't wait to hear your screams. To kiss you while you moan so loudly from the pleasure he gives to you. Sunghoon couldn't wait any longer and stripped off all his clothes. He positioned himself at your entrance and kissed you deeply the moment he pushed himself inside you.

Your folds take him so well that you have to cry out from pleasure. Making Sunghoon's wishes come true. "Don't hold back your beautiful voices Y/n" and right after that you let out a loud moan, hoping that your grandparents are asleep and don't hear anything from your room. Sunghoon just pushed himself deeper and deeper into you with a grin on his bitten lips.

"Sunghoon...mhhm"

"Tell me baby what you want"

"Please..." -you couldn't form a word anymore, just mewing nonstop.

The sounds of your skin, the kisses, the shallow breathing heightened all your senses. You buried your head in the pillows and felt like you were going to cum any second.

"Ahh.. Y/n. You feel so good." -He rolled back his eyes.

A few more thrusts and you came at the same time. His release filled you completely and as he pulled down he was covered with your white release as well. Sunghoon's muscles flexed and he collapsed next to you, sweat dripping from his face. Loud breaths filled the heated room and you could feel the cold night wind on your naked bodies. But it didn't matter, because after you had cleaned up, you were safe and sound in your lover's arms. You felt his breath on your shoulder and his heartbeat on your body. You didn't want this to be over, so you looked at Sunghoon for a few minutes after he fell asleep, capturing this moment in your mind forever.

You woke up early since it was time to go to the airport. Sunghoon was still in your bed but he was up as well. You went down to have a quick breakfast which your grandma made for you, and after he noticed Sunghoon he made another serving for him as well. Your suitcases were in the car and it was time to go. Still, you and Sunghoon were sitting on the sofa, watching the ocean view while making out.

As slowly as possible, you reached the car and Sunghoon gave you a gift bag which he insisted you open when you arrived home.

“My one and only love, please don’t cry too much. I’ll wait for you as much as it takes. I would wait for you until the end of the time because my heart belongs to you forever. Please smile a lot and call me everytime you want, I’ll be here for you Y/n! I’ll love you until the day that I die. Even after that I’ll love you. Here’s a flower for today as well” -he put the pink hibiscus in your hair. The same one he gave to you the first time- “You are the most beautiful human being in my eyes, take care, until we meet again.” -he held your hands and kissed you deeply.

“Sunghoon…” -you touched the flower and started to cry- “Thank you so much for everything, I’ll be back before you know it because life without you will be misery. I love you with all my heart until the end of time. I’ll always love you Park Sunghoon” -you pulled him in for another kiss and then waved him goodbye from the car. The two of you held back your tears but after you drove away you both broke down. You cried as much as you could until you got on your plane and he went back to work.

After a long flight and car ride, you were finally in your room. You put the flower from your hair into a glass box and then checked your messages. Of course, Sunghoon had already sent a lot of messages, but your eyes stayed on the video notification. You knew what was in the video and you couldn't wait to watch it. Before you opened it, you remembered what Sunghoon asked you to do. Open the gift.

Fighting back tears, you opened it. There was a T-shirt sprayed with his perfume, a white plush bunny, and a letter. You didn't hesitate to open it, only to find a ticket from Hawaii to your city with Park Sunghoon's name on it.

[total-dxmure]

ೃ࿔ “INVISIBLE STRING THEORY” MASTERLIST

the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

total word count: 13.8k

𖦹 chapter one- grief is a difficult thing for anyone to navigate, but ellie finds it impossible to tread through her bottomless depression. all roads seem to lead to nowhere and everyday is a struggle. after a run in with the law after a ptsd episode, her close friends decide that it's do or die. a quick phone call to joel is all it takes to turn her world upside down. moving back to wyoming is a last ditch effort to save the scarred marine. the woman has no idea what's waiting for her back home. . . or who.

𖦹 chapter two- it's easy to pretend that things are normal when she's with joel. she can put on a brave face. grin and bear it, as they say. your sudden appearance in ellie's life hits her like a battering ram, and she finds it impossible not to be drawn to you. joel lets her know that you are no stranger to loss. the two of you seem to have a lot in common. a lost engagement ring, a smitten ellie and a minor mental breakdown.

𖦹 chapter three- you're tired of waking up in bed cold and alone. abby would have wanted you to find joy again. . . so why can't you? ellie shows up bright and early to help you with your duties on the farm, which is when you realize just how irresistible she is. for the first time in a while you feel comfortable to be yourself around someone, and she feels the exact same way. she shares some hard truths about herself and discovers what was once lost to you.

𖦹 chapter four- to be continued . . .

ೃ࿔ fic "soundtrack"

i fall to pieces - patsy cline

i walk the line - johnny cash

big black car - gregory ivan isakov

blue eyes crying in the rain - willie nelson

streets of laredo - marty robbins

plastic jesus - tia blake

almost gone - my terrible friend

death don’t have no mercy - rev. gary davis

i’m so lonesome i could cry - hank williams

god’s gonna cut you down - johnny cash

[throwaway-yandere]

FLAWLESS (Yandere!Various Genshin/Reader)

A/n: This is a complete interactive fic w/ CGs! There’s an HP system and 4 possible endings (yandere!Scaramouche, Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Kazuha). This is my final fanfic and I really put my best effort into drawing and writing this. Have fun!!! Your choices matter so read the evidences properly and try not to get a bad ending hahaha. (Pls answer this poll after and feel free to send me memes about who you got hAHHAHA)

Unreliable Synopsis: (Danganronpa!Genshin AU) If this is your last dance as an idol, then you do not want it. No. You’ll make the real criminal sing instead.

CW: yandere themes, blood, murders (well duh ansy–), and brief mentions of suicide.

Kazuha frowned. "For (L/n) (Y/n), this whole ordeal must seem like a flawless crime."

"They don't know the murder weapon, the suspects— no nothing." Kaveh sighed.

Alhaitham interjected. "Indeed, but the real questions will begin in a moment."

Words punctured the air in nameless accusations. Each time people enter this room, only distrust looms acting both as a safety blanket and suffocating plastic. You stared at the people left. One, two, three, four, five... You clenched your fist, and all those fingers pointed back at you. 

The sixth. 

There are only six survivors left.

"Say, (L/n) (Y/n)." Your Akademiyan companions stared at you as Kunikuzushi’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. "Where were you at the time of the murder?"

You gulped.

The Teyvat Akademiya. Home only to the most renowned student of their craft. The faculty carefully picks out select groups of students to be their new freshmen- and it can only be counted by hand how many had declined such a generous offer. It was a government state university, but it was also a golden ticket to knowing people from high places.  

Each student was known for contributing something in their fields of interest. In fact, both your adoptive siblings were alumni of this prestigious school. Your brother Aether was a famous "adventurer" (as he loved to call himself instead of an artifact-obsessed archeologist) whereas your sister Lumine was a remarkable swordswoman with a straight-edged track record. Even your older friends, Dainsleif, and a certain glasses-wearing individual you had forgotten the name of were graduates and now boast incredible resumes befitting of an Akademiyan. Each alumnus you've met wasn't someone any person with a head on their shoulders would dare disrespect. 

But that was not the reason for your schoolmates’ evident intimidation.

“Allow them a moment to process,” Alhaitham scoffed. “The Body Discovery Announcement was approximately 2 hours ago. It’s challenging for individuals from the entertainment industry such as them to comprehend complicated matters in a few seconds.”

“I would’ve fainted at your rare attempt at empathy if it wasn't obviously pointed,” Kaveh scoffed before turning to you with a soft stare. “(Y/n), don’t listen to these two, I’m sure we can find out if you’re innocent or not later.”

You gave a short nod of assent.

Tragically, murders had become the norm for college students like yourself. No one has flinched at Kaveh’s grim mention of a suspect lurking by and none had the insanity to deny what had occurred.

It began when you first woke up in one of the Akademiya's classrooms. You stirred awake on a desk near Shikanoin Heizou, the "Detective Prince". He was a famous figure, so you instantly believed him when he said you were both hauled into this location against your will. You were enthused by his infectious desire to uncover whatever was behind the “kidnapping” you found yourselves in. He told you not to worry, that despite the barred windows and inaccessible exits, you'd both "probably" find a way out.  As you both wandered around the area, you found fourteen other students (some familiar faces, some not as much). For a brief moment of hope, everyone thought escape was possible. 

That was until a certain cold-eyed puppet entered the scene.

A heartless puppet you’re sure was waiting for everyone just under that elevator.

“Is… Is this everyone?” You asked like a mouse, frightened as your eyes darted for any hints of twinned cyan hair. Nothing about your recent behavior had gone unnoticed.

Senior Faruzan is missing…

Yoimiya frowned, grabbing your hand for comfort. “(Y/n)…”

Kunikuzushi scoffed. “Enough of this dumb ohhh boohoo exhibit. Let’s go.”

The most mysterious of the bunch left for the stairs immediately, punching the button on the elevator to its ground floor. Yoimiya huffed, muttering complaints about Kuni’s behavior while the three other men followed her silently. No one took the stairs two at a time and walked at a snail’s pace. A clear indication that no one wanted this to occur. 

And just like in the previous cases, Kazuha’s eyes were on you the entire time but spoke nothing of this behavior.

The elevator door opened. You looked at the camera above it. If the Shogun's words are to be trusted, then the outside world is watching your every move like reality TV.

If that's the case, might as well give them a show.

Kunikuzushi stepped aside, royally ushering everyone— and specifically YOU— in.

“Idols first.”

Everyone entered the trial room. If the mood from earlier was tense, it is worse now that you’re inside. Stepping into the cold room makes the situation all the more real.

There is an execution waiting to happen, but without a hint if it’ll be “us” or “them”. Every bright person inside the room here had previously partaken in 4 of these court sessions by force. Since no one can exit the premises nor contact the outside world, the only key out was to kill and avoid getting caught. 5 people had attempted to commit murder, and considering how you’re still breathing, none of the “blackened” had succeeded in getting their way.

How… How did it come to this? 

You enrolled in the Akademiya in hopes that you'd also find the subtle clues as to why Aether went missing, this wasn't in your plan.

Getting roped into this killing “game” was on no one’s to-do list. You received an invitation to enroll in the Akademiya because of your stark idol career, although your siblings being famous alumni may have greatly increased your chances of receiving that privilege. You would’ve thrown that paper into the fire if you knew you’d get dizzy upon arriving in the Akademiya and will wake up in such a heartbreaking dilemma. Hearing from a grapevine, you discovered that Kaveh was invited for his architectural drafts, Kazuha for his poems and a bit of swordsmanship in his repertoire, Yoimiya for her firework shows, and Kunikuzushi?… You don’t know. But you are wholly aware as to why Alhaitham is here as your senior— you were there when he opened his letter after all.

The “mascot” is yet to make her entrance. So, as “obedient” students, you’ve uncomfortably shuffled to the places you were meant to stand. Bile rose inside your throat as you looked at the last five students excluding yourself circling the room— with Faruzan’s crossed-out portrait to your right while Kamisato Ayaka’s on your left. It would appear that most of the dead students were on your side and the closest breathing person next to you was Kunikuzushi, who was two photographs away.

Alhaitham, Amber, Tighnari, Ajax, Albedo, Kamisato Ayaka, You, Faruzan, Xiao, "Kunikuzushi", Kaveh, Cyno, Yoimiya, Layla, Yunjin, Kaedehara Kazuha, and Shikanoin Heizou.

The deceased faces had been crossed out in bright violet paint, a nauseatingly unsubtle reminder that only six remained. Yet, the one that was meant to sit towering above was missing.

“… Where’s The Shogun?” Kazuha asked.

“Ah, so you do have a voice. And here I was about to call you a cricket. I thought our poet lost his words, considering how the previous trial ended,” Kunikuzushi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Just wait and see.”

You sighed, hoping it was quiet enough for Kuni not to have heard it. 

The last trial broke everyone’s spirits and sense of camaraderie the most. Before trials, the puppet gives everyone an incentive to kill. In the Ayaka-Heizou murder case, each student was given a videotape that raised more questions than answers. Yours was a clip of Lumine, your fellow theater actors, and idol mates congratulating you for your enrollment before it cuts off to a scene of your home burned to cinders. As for Ayaka, hers was a short-lived message of her older brother asking her to come visit the clan for Thoma’s upcoming birthday— before it cuts to a gruesome scene of her brother fatally wounded on their living room floor. 

“Find out what happens once you graduate!”... and then the tape ends.

Whoever was the mastermind behind this killing, you had to admit, they were an expert in psychological torture. And unfortunately for everyone, Ayaka was a smart individual— killing the most trustworthy student, Heizou, to cover her tracks better. She put up quite the fight in manipulating everyone to think that you and Kaveh were possible culprits.

You even got into an argument with the calmest person around. Kazuha was “convinced” that Ayaka was right, which led to you two entering an incredibly heated argument that left him depressed with his rejected apology. You were on "good terms" with him before, that being he would always offer to cook food and accompany you often. 

… Perhaps that was a good thing. Discreetly, you thought he strangely knew you to a degree that makes you far from comfortable. It still bugs you how he knew you all too well and yet you know nothing about him other than his aspirations: traditional Inazuman poetry writing with a bit of karuta on the side.

Maybe he used to be a big fan of yours? Even so, the foundation of your music, choreography, and persona was weaved through a tapestry of feel-good lies. And yet, he was wise enough to speak your true thoughts before you even hesitated to voice them in your cheery idol tone. 

But that’s not the issue right now. 

The issue on your plate was that you had no evidence to prove your innocence except for the list of school rules on your E-Handbook because you were convinced someone will kill you during the investigation.

You laughed to yourself bitterly. Might as well review those rules now.

You opened the E-Handbook.

As per “school rules”, there are regulations to be had in a murder game, but none stick to you as these three. Rule #10 and #7: A class trial will commence after three or more students have discovered a corpse, and a Body Discovery Announcement will play as soon as it occurs. However, a trial will be held if and only if every survivor is present; failure to do so will result in class “expulsion.” 

And the last rule that never left your mind was Rule #8: If the guilty party is exposed during the class trial, they alone will be executed.

By the end of Trial #4, she did not receive a proper execution. Ayaka was compelled to restore her honor and raised her sword to…

…

… You couldn’t hate her for it. Even though you were close friends with Heizou, you couldn’t hate any of your fellow students. They all had family, hopes, and visions for the future. Each one here was "a fledgling barely out of the nest." You couldn’t deny that you would’ve done the same.

"Since the Shogun isn't here yet, let's get a headstart," Kaveh gripped the court fence, eyeing everyone with a nervous stare and stiff posture. "What's your alibis?"

Nobody raised their voice initially. You cast a pitying glance toward Kaveh. When it comes to your closest friendships, he comes in second only to Heizou. As someone who had seen the horrors of the media which is essentially a mirror of the world's social issues, Kaveh's one of the few decent individuals left on the planet, in your opinion. In moments of quiet, you, Kaveh, and Faruzan used to chat together, with Heizou periodically interrupting to share his findings regarding everyone's entrapment.

Considering how Kaveh is your last true friend left, you volunteered yourself.

"I never left my room," you spoke audibly depressed, no longer caring that you appeared un-idol-like. "And I refused entry as well. I heard a couple of angry knocks at 9:37 p.m., but I didn't open my door for anyone."

You looked at Kazuha, hurt and accusingly.

You'd never forget how Kazuha called you a murderer. That intense argument made up 30% of Heizou's class trial. He lost his composure and called you a "dishonorable monster". The whole back-and-forth was very much unlike him. After the trial, neither of you talked– and you never left your room unless it was to get something to eat without anyone in sight.

If he was the one who killed Faruzan because he can’t get to you, then you’ll…

"9:37 eh? You got a watch now?" Kunikuzushi pointed at your wrist.

You snapped out of your aggression and nodded, which made him break out in a fit of laughter. 

"HAHAHA!!!" Kunikuzushi grinned, wide. "Learned your lesson, huh?!"

You scoffed, but your ego was humbled and your heart sank at his harsh words. 

Everyone in the room nearly lost their lives because of your time-blindness. It's precisely what made Kazuha suspicious of your motives. You were always unsure of the time, hence, you didn't have the most watertight alibi compared to Ayaka. Before you entered your room to lock yourself, Alhaitham blocked the door with his shoe and handed you his spare wristwatch. He was the last person you saw before your self-isolation.

"Good," Alhaitham said. "And you, Kunikuzushi?"

"Are we going to ignore that angry knocking thing?" Kaveh rightfully asked.

"Let's complete the first task first," Alhaitham answered. "Let's follow the circle; it's (Y/n), then Kunikuzushi, Kaveh, Yoimiya, Kazuha, then I."

"Conveniently putting yourself last," Kunikuzushi snarled. "But whatever. I was napping in my dorm. Woke up when I heard footsteps outside and decided to investigate. The discovery alarm rang off when I entered the nurse's office the second time."

Kaveh fell silent, his face pale.

"I… never went to m dorm that night"

"Oh?" You and Yoimiya curiously said in unison.

"I-I was with Alhaitham, patrolling!!!" Kaveh defended; his arms in the air. "I swear on my life, I was with him! We're probably the footsteps Kuni heard."

He spoke as if it was a good thing with his mouth, but he was whispering that it wasn’t with his eyes.

"Can't be certain," Kunikuzushi threw in a quick grumble and snapped his fingers. “But I think that's probably the case.”

"That makes sense. I mean, if Kuni was telling the truth then that just means there's more chance it's just those two hopping around. Oh, and I was actually on the second floor at the time. I was in the recreational room cause I wanted to get tokens for the cute little Shogun Stall.'' If Kuni’s side comment lasted a month, then Yoimiya's would be a year– but her good cheer is just what everyone needed to alleviate the tension.

"I wasn't in my dorm room either," Kazuha said. "I was in the cafeteria. I couldn't sleep so I decided to fry fish."

"True, I think. When I checked the cafeteria a knife was missing from the shelf."

"We’ll keep your fact-checking in mind, Miss Naganohara." 

No soul was sure if Alhaitham was being genuine about it except for you. And the answer was yes, he was being warily appreciative. Admittedly, you don’t know any of these people before this killing game started, except for one person…

Alhaitham looked away, conscious of how you looked at him.

In all fairness, Alhaitham was closer to Lumine than you and Aether, and he wasn’t your favorite neighbor either. As a kid, he was the type who would leave in the middle of hide-and-seek simply because the ordeal wasn’t “stimulating” to his developing intellect. He had a habit of causing uncomfortable situations just to “observe” your reactions with an emotionless stare. Alhaitham had once given you a sumeru rose with a startling grasshopper to see how you would behave, and the worst part is that everyone knows he did these without malice. His grandmother had to force a sorry out of him for your tears to dry. “He probably has a crush on you, you know how boys are,” was the excuse the old lady tried, but your twin siblings were quick to shut that thought down. You and he were simply oil and water, nothing more, nothing less.

But there were times you two got along. When you aired out loud sentiments regarding how stuffy his room must be, you snatched the book he was reading and dashed up the nearest tree. Despite his grumbling reservations, he was thankful that you taught him how to climb that afternoon. That was the first you saw him smile wider than usual and offered to narrate the book you stole: The Little Prince. 

However, that version of Alhaitham you’ve come to love remains awol amidst this killing game.

"As for my whereabouts: Kaveh is correct. He and I were patrolling just the first floor and exchanging conversation. Neither of us could sleep. We started at 9:15 and ended abruptly at 11:05, when we, along with Kunikuzushi, found–"

"The body." Kunikuzushi finished.

"Yes," Alhaitham said.

Kunikuzushi smirked. From your perspective, the worst part about this was not Kunikuzushi’s inappropriate smugness, but the look in his eyes that mirrored what Heizou used to have— what your good friend used to be. The light in his eyes, his more forward demeanor, the way he crossed his arms and snapped his fingers– it was as if he was copying him. 

Mocking him.

You hate Kunikuzushi. You detest just how much you don’t know why he’s in the Akademiya or anything else about him other than his first name. You loathe how he had made it his job to be the antagonist of every damn class trial. You hate how he looks at you as though you’re beneath him. You despise how much he is willing to withhold vital information till the very end.

Kunikuzushi is like a commedia dell’arte stock character. A Scaramouche. An unreliable servant. You can’t trust a man who said he was moved by your acting in all your filmography only to act like he wants nothing more than to crush your spirits once lives were at stake.

After listening to everyone’s alibis, your intuition screamed from something deep within a place you had begun to trust after experiencing these trials:

Out of six survivors, FOUR of them are hiding something.

“Is everyone present?”

Before you could speak up, a low and refined woman’s voice stole everyone’s attention. All turned to gaze at the long synthetic-haired lady with a katana by her side. She returned the stares with an unfathomable coldness as she strutted to her throne, the silk of her grand kimono touching the floor. 

There she is. The lone audience and judge. The puppet: the Almighty Raiden Shogun. Undoubtedly made of metal and not flesh. Xiao had learned that firsthand when he sacrificed his life in an honorable duel against the captor— but seeking freedom by force was of no use when she herself is capable of the murders she wished to witness.

“Very well. We shall begin.”

“W-Wait, hold up, ma'am!”

The last vaguely extroverted cheerleader raised her hand; her bravery to interrupt the Shogun was acknowledged.

“... Can I share my E-Handbook data with (Y/n)?” She asked, high-pitched.

The medical and criminological technology of this era eluded everyone. Trapped inside the Akademiya with no phones or any signal to the outside world, each student only has their E-Handbook to rely on. It contains information the owner investigated regarding murders and records testimonies made by their peers. A handbook is only “handy” for both people who were hoping to survive and those who were hoping to twist the facts. 

And that offer is exactly what you need.

“You see– they didn’t leave their room during the investigation period– probably worried that the killer might be after them next and they kinda turned into a hikikomori for the past few days. I’m kinda worried they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves on this trial so… So, uh… Pretty please?” The blonde girl smiled nervously.

The Raiden Shogun stared, calculating.

“I shall allow it.”

“Thank you so much!” Yoimiya tapped her E-Handbook as fast as she could, more eager than you were in watching the loading screen fill up.

(SYSTEM: RECEIVING NAGANOHARA YOIMIYA’S E-HANDBOOK DATA…)

(SYSTEM: TRANSFER COMPLETE.)

You smiled at Yoimiya but it came out crooked and jaded. She didn’t complain that you weren’t at your top form today, but she did send you a loud “Do your best!” in her native tongue.

The Shogun walked to the throne and took her seat.

“Now then, let the class trial begin.”

Out like a bolt of lightning, the doors behind you were completely shut with metal bars in her flick of a wrist. In her twisted form of justice, she hammered the circular surface with her gavel.

“Court is now in session.”

(SYSTEM: TAP HERE TO CONTINUE)

[sencrose]

— ALL (SIX) EYES ON ME

pairing: gojo satoru x f!idol!reader

tags: slight dubcon/yandere, idol AU, no curses AU, clothed/costume/mirror sex, body worship, sweat kink, armpit licking lol, praise, cunnilingus, pet names (princess, sweetheart, sweetie), satoru's just a little weird in this sorry

wc: 9.2k (ugHGUHGUHGUGHUGHGUHGU)

summary: Everything's lining up. The tickets to your first solo show sold out weeks in advance. Small problem: there's only one person in the audience.

a/n: i don't...? i don't know man. this is extremely self-indulgent, self-ship coded at times, and technically a reeeeally late birthday gift to myself lmfao. makes a lot of references to jp idol culture (once again). if you have any questions my ask box’s open! dividers by @/adornedwithlight. + playlist + ao3 link here.

It’s taken weeks of preparation but it’s finally going to pay off. Countless hours of rehearsal, dancing in dusty studios until your body’s on the verge of dropping, singing until your voice is almost hoarse, but not quite. You know your limits, and you’re not willing to break them before something so crucial.

On the dawn of your birthday, your obligatory solo live has been the only thing on your mind. It can’t be anything short of perfect, especially after the tickets sold out in record speed. The stakes have never been higher. At least when you sell out a venue as a group, you can rely on each other. There’s no one to catch you if you fall here, physically or otherwise.

The green room feels empty without your fellow members to back you up. It’s a bit unnerving, having all this space to yourself, the mirrors reflecting back to you, and just you.

The silence of the room gets to you, so the obvious course of action is to play your set list in the background. You know all of the songs well, singing along gently as you unpack your luggage. Ruffles and frills bounce out as soon as you unzip it. No matter how tightly you attempt to pack your outfit, it seems like it has a mind of its own.

Putting it on was an ordeal in the beginning. Too many straps, too much fabric, too much volume to get lost in. But it’s become a part of you in the past couple of years, a second skin of sorts.

The top, a cropped blouse with a sweetheart neckline, always goes on first before you do your makeup. That was a lesson you learned on your second live when you accidentally stained the collar with foundation. You tug on the zipper, which always gets caught in between a bulky seam, tugging a bit harder when you get there. From there you bring it over your head and awkwardly shift until it’s finally on. It fits snugly once you zip up the side seam, your curves emphasized by the ribbon lacing detail on the side.

Makeup is simple enough, just a bit more extra than your usual day to day. More exaggerated eyeliner, an extra pigmented blush, dramatic eyelashes you still haven’t gotten used to (seriously, it’s distracting when they’re constantly in your periphery). To finish it off, some glitter around the eyes so it sparkles extra bright like the stars in the sky under the stage lights.

Once you’re done, it’s time for the skirt, and it’s always heavier than you think it is. It’s a given though – several layers of circles coming together at the waist, and dozens of yards of ruffled lace hemming each edge. It’d be a scientific anomaly if it weighed any less.

You shimmy your way into the skirt, one leg at a time until the elastic cinches at your waist. With it secured, you jump a couple of times – half to test its stability, and half to just watch the hypnotic bounce of fabric. At this point, it’s customary to do a little spin around in the mirror, lose yourself in the swish of fabric moving like the waves of the ocean, encapsulated around your waist. It’s your favorite part, just watching everything come together, feeling like a real star – even if the venue barely fits a hundred attendees.

All that’s left are finishing details. A ruffly garter that hugs your thigh, soft satin gloves on your hands, and a tiara instead of your usual matching set of bows on your head. Last but not least, a pair of platform boots. It’s still something you’re adjusting too, the weight of them dulling your dance moves just slightly.

When you check your phone, it’s just a few minutes before call time. You neatly pack your casual clothes in your luggage and roll it off to the side before exiting the room. Everything’s so different when you walk the hall alone. It’s a bit lonelier, a bit longer – plain white walls converging to a point you know all too well. You know you’re getting close when the instrumental playing through the speaker gets louder, too loud to ignore, a sign for you to put in your in-ear monitor.

Then you make it there, on the back edge of the stage like you’ve done so many times before, though alone this time. Anxiety beats like a drum in your chest, and you can’t bring yourself to peek through the stage curtains. Curiosity killed the cat after all.

The background instrumental starts, a soft bump of bass rumbles the floor, rattles your body. It’s your cue to go. With the mic held close to your chest, you step out to the stage, bright stage lights blinding you momentarily.

“Good evening everyone! Thanks for coming out tonight, it really-”

Your voice involuntarily stops in its tracks when your vision comes back to you.

The crowd is empty.

Well, almost empty.

A single fan stands tall right in front of you, familiar azure eyes staring a hole into your soul.

You remember him – Satoru. Couldn’t forget him if you tried. His reputation precedes him. If you had to choose a fan who’s dedication bordered on deification, it would be him.

Your fellow members even had a silly nickname for him: Mr. Monopoly. For the frivolous amounts of money he spent on your merch, and how he monopolized your time at every meet and greet by buying out a dozen cheki tickets the moment a performance ended. In fact, there have been a handful of events where he’s the only fan you’ve spoken to.

Despite that, it’s not like he’s creepy or anything. In fact, he’s incredibly normal – from what you can see anyway. Never crosses the line, never goes beyond the casual small talk about performance quality, curious questions about the upcoming release. But something about how much time and money he spends attending your shows keeps you on edge. Someone who spends so much of his life tucked away in dingy live houses can’t exactly be a paragon of society.

But this can’t be right, right? Your heartbeat’s erratic, pounding so hard against your ribcage you’re scared it’s going to crack. Didn’t the venue sell out weeks ago? You remember the congratulations text your manager sent you, the way you bounced off the walls of your bedroom in excitement at the news. That wasn’t fake. And what reason would he have to lie?

Was this some kind of online troll campaign? There’s always a possibility, but you’re quick to write it off. You’ve never been the topic of any notable online conversation, positive or negative. For once, your habitual ego surfing escapades pay off.

The wave of Satoru’s dazzling penlights snaps you out of your mental spiral, albeit still shaken.

“Um, it really means the world to me.” The words come out shakier than before.

You’re a professional.

It’s the only thought repeating in your mind, a hamster running on a wheel with no end in sight. You hope it rings true.

“Anyways, since it’s my birthday,” you continue, your voice still unstable. Your eyes wander around the room only to confirm nobody else is here, save for your manager, who’s also playing the role of bartender for tonight. The reality of the situation sinks in a little more, your heart dull and heavy.

“I thought we could get started with a solo cover of one of my favorite singles.” There was originally more you wanted to say, but your words elude you. Everything comes out cold, monotonous. “I really hope you enjoy it. Thank you.”

Satoru cheers and you swear it nearly bursts your ear drums, roaring like a tiger’s battle cry.

The instrumental starts, a hum of stringed chords hits your ears and you break into your starting pose, a smile beaming on your face despite the hurt in your heart. You know this dance like the back of your hand, but it feels uneasy performing in an unfamiliar setting. Lost somewhere in the in between; not quite alone in a dance studio, but not performing to the crowds you’ve grown used to.

There isn’t the usual weight to your moves, slightly deflated like a balloon that’s been left out for hours. The irony isn’t lost on you, singing about staying strong in the face of adversity under the soul crushing weight of disappointment.

You can hear him inhale, suck in dramatically like a child preparing to hold their breath underwater, only to let out a barrage of chants. The usual calls, about you being his favorite, about how cute you are. If this was backed by an army of fans, it would inspire you. But for the moment, it’s a bitter reminder of what could have been. It’s hard. You don’t want to be ungrateful, but you were expecting a bit more for your big day.

It happens before you realize it, glassy eyes forming tears when you blink.

The slight moistening of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Satoru, and his calls start to change. He’s improvising, his words customized solely for you. Clapping in triplets, shouting lines of encouragement at the pause between lyrics. From woo woos to ‘you can do it!’, from oo-ah oo-ahs to “I’ll cheer you on”, from hey heys to “my oshi’s the best!”

It’s hard to not feel touched by his efforts. You’ve grown as a performer, him as a supporter, alongside each other. It warms your heart a little. You’re caught by surprise when you hear yourself giggle in between the lyrics. To be acknowledged is its own reward. What originated from sadness morphs into something else entirely. A fire in your heart, rekindled. Even if no one else showed up, Satoru would always be here. And maybe that’s enough for you.

It’s common practice to choose a spot in the audience to look at, not making direct eye contact with anyone. But nobody tells you what to do when you’re performing to an audience of one. How do you stop yourself from being pulled into Satoru’s form, so bright and radiant he lights up the room?

The song finishes with a flourish, and you hold your pose for a moment just as you’ve practiced. You finally recollect yourself, chest visibly rising and falling from exhaustion.

“S-sorry about that.” You take a moment to wipe your tears as best as you can with the back of your arm. It’s hard not to mess up your makeup, and you can only hope there aren’t trails of black falling down your cheeks. You sniffle, careful not to do so in the mic, but you’re sure he hears considering he’s only a few feet away. “As long as someone’s here, the show will go on. So let’s have lots of fun tonight!”

He cheers at that, lifting his penlight and spinning it around in his hand. A single star in the endless night sky.

“The next song is something I haven’t performed in a long time.” You walk around the stage, your eyes never leaving Satoru’s gaze. “I don’t think I’ve performed it since debuting.”

Satoru gasps upon hearing, humming like a bee from excitement.

“So if you know it, I would love to hear you sing along.” You set your arms down to your side, turning around to face the back of the stage. This song was from the beginning of your journey, a bit more experimental and leaning on the side of cyber pop. Buzzy synths and blocky eight bit pads echo throughout the room, and it rumbles throughout your body. Something about it is more intense than you’re used to, the way the instrumental has no choice but to bounce off the walls and back into you. How it shakes your very being.

It’s easy to get lost in the stage backdrop, an endless sea of black. But when you turn and see your lone fan, lightstick in hand, it’s as if you’re a lost ship guided home by the draw of a lighthouse’s lamp.

Even if you haven’t performed this routine on stage in a year, it feels right. Like this was how it was always meant to be performed. Singular rhythmic claps, Satoru’s roaring voice piercing through your in-ear monitor.

As soon as the first words leave your lips, it brings you back. Back to a time when you and your group were still starting off. To the nearly empty rooms on a Friday night, to the countless hours you’d spend standing on busy streets handing out flyers to promote your show. The first time you ran into Satoru.

Late afternoon in Akihabara. Spring had just come in full bloom, bringing along a litter of cherry blossom petals on the pavement and the accompanying hordes of tourists. It had been a long day, then again, most of those days were long days. The heat always found a way to get to you when you’re standing in your costumes for hours at a time, competing alongside all the other dressed up girls promoting their respective maid cafes and idol groups. Then there were the faceless crowds ignoring you every time you gestured for them to take a flyer, to come to your show. It was the pinnacle of demoralizing work, really.

Satoru was just a faceless being until he stopped in his tracks, the first and only person to talk to you that day.

“Is this tonight?” he asked, his glasses slightly pointed downward just enough so you could see that magnificent blue of his eyes.

“Y-yes. It’d be great if you could come cheer us on,” you responded with a smile.

He took the flyer without a word, folding and putting it in his pocket and you assumed that was that. You didn’t actually expect to see him again. But you did.

When he came to your performance, you didn’t pay him much mind, and you assumed he did the same with you. He stuck out like a sore thumb, choosing to stand towards the back of the room and avoiding the handful of fans at the front, arms crossed as if he didn’t want to be there despite paying for the (admittedly hefty) entry fee.

Yet at the end of the show, he lined up at the counter. Bought only a single cheki ticket to meet with you, to tell you he enjoyed the show, that he looked forward to the next one. You didn’t believe him, but sure enough he showed up at the next concert. And then a single ticket turned into two. And then three, four, until it snowballed into the dozen ticket minimum you recognize him by today.

And now he’s here. Cheering you on so enthusiastically you can practically feel the passion oozing off of him. Oh, how times change.

The song’s over before you know it. It takes you a moment to return from your trip down memory lane.

“Wow, what a throwback, huh?” you sigh dreamily, reminiscing on the past, on how far you’ve come. “I think it’s actually my first time hearing anyone mix to it.”

Gratitude rises and swells in your heart like a river during a rainstorm, nowhere to escape but your lips. It overrides any rational thought in your brain. The words spill faster than you can catch them. “Thank you for being here, Satoru.” With that, you break the number one taboo of addressing anyone directly in the audience.

“Anything for you,” he says softly, smiling and tilting his head just slightly. He doesn’t need to shout or project his voice any further, he knows you hear him. Maybe it’s just the lighting, or your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear the whites of his teeth glimmer.

Heat darts to your cheeks, feverish, and it’s not from the oppressive stage lighting. Your next words do nothing to help.

“This next song,” you pause, “is a love song. Kind of.”

Satoru responds, a scandalous and elongated, “Ooooh?”

Your rehearsed speech falls apart with the reaction Satoru gives you. It wasn’t this awkward when you were practicing it in the mirror, but this feels too direct of a conversation. Expectant, adoring eyes look up at you, waiting with bated breath.

“I, I mean it’s more about following your dreams,” you continue, flustered and taking long, aimless steps across the stage before turning back to face him, “there’s love in that, right?”

“There is!” he says, waving his penlight in the air side to side.

“I’m glad you agree. Well, if you know this song, I would love to hear you sing along.”

That goes without saying. As soon as the instrumental blasts through the speakers, Satoru’s chanting his heart out. A hope intertwined that you’ll listen to him, hear him for who he really is.

Satoru’s energy shows no sign of declining, his voice still as thunderous as when the show started. Your voice guides him along, an adventure navigating between chiptune keys and artificial strings, until it reaches the bridge. A flurry of sugary sweet synths buzz, racing to a climax together. Satoru inhales to prepare for the speech to come.

“I have something to confess!”

This is far from the first time you’ve heard this speech, it’s a staple of the culture after all. But this is the first time it’s been so clear. No one else to muddle his voice. Satoru, and just Satoru.

When he’s the only one in the audience, you decide to indulge him. Bending down on one knee, cupping your hand behind your ear.

“Tell me, tell me!” you exclaim back, voice as sweet as the melody playing through the speakers.

“My oshi really is the cutest!”

It’s a back and forth, and it feels much more like a conversation than it normally would. The words bounce between the two of you so naturally, like a tennis ball during a rally.

“Really really?” You play into it, faux shock weaved into your tone.

“I like her, I like her, I really do love her!” Satoru chants it rhythmically, trance-like. Each syllable is aimed crystal clear, an arrow with startling accuracy shooting you in the heart.

“Do you, do you?”

“I’ve found my princess!”

It’s hard to pose, but you manage to give him a little curtsy before pointing at your tiara. With Satoru chanting his affections to you, you truly feel like royalty tonight.

“Did you, did you?” you respond, tilting your head with a smile.

“She’s my reason for living!”

No matter how many times you tell yourself that the two of you are practically relaying a script, you think there’s a morsel of truth behind his words.

“Is she, is she?”

“Let’s walk through this life together!”

It shouldn’t have such an effect on you, you’ve heard it plenty of times before. From other concerts, from larger crowds. But it does. It has you smiling so wide your cheeks start to ache.

That’s new. When was the last time that happened?

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

Maybe you’re crossing a line when you extend your arm further, his lips so close to the mic you can feel his breath on it. Not that Satoru seems to mind. If anything, his eyes sparkle a bit brighter, his smile eclipsing any doubt in your head.

“I love you!” Satoru yells so loud the volume of it makes you wince. For just a fraction of a second, your smile drops before you place it back on, a well-worn mask. If you didn’t know any better, you would assume this was a real confession.

“L-O-V-E Y-O-U!” It's just how the call ends, but it feels like he’s spelling it out for you with intention in every letter, just in case you didn’t hear him the first time.

With the end of the chant you’re thrown into the last chorus, getting off the floor and resuming your choreo. Satoru resumes to the usual chants, as if he wasn’t yelling something reminiscent of a love confession.

A kick and a pose and that marks the end of the third song of the night. Something about Satoru’s cheers are electrifying, static shooting through every fiber of your being. It takes you a moment to catch your breath before taking a bow.

“And now for the last song of the night,” you pant into the mic, breathless.

“Ehhhh?” A long, high-pitched whine, as is customary when the night’s almost over.

“I know, I know. It’s always sad when things come to an end, isn’t it?”

“But let’s make the most of this together! I want to hear you put everything you got on the line!” you scream into the mic, as if there’s more than a single pair of ears to take in your words.

Satoru cheers wildly at that.

“And I hope I’ll see you at the next event!” you exclaim, waving your spare hand before getting into position.

A guitar riff, followed by a soft bass announces your last song of the night. The notes dance on your skin and you welcome the sensation, taking them in and returning them ten fold. The ruffles of your skirt brush against your thighs as you roll your hips, entrancing like a bird’s mating ritual.

You thought you’d never get sick of the view of a crowd, but there’s a new contender rising in the ranks of your favor. As you circle around the stage in preparation for the chorus, Satoru also seems to be planning something. As soon as the words leave your mouth, Satoru mirrors your dance, penlights shining brightly in hand. Every jump, every sway of your hips, he meets you there.

You’re supposed to be the star of the show but he’s caught your attention, outshining your glow.

As the last chorus makes its round, the words escape a bit more desperate, dancing the line between singing and wailing. Despite everything that’s happened, you’re having fun, maybe some of the most fun you’ve had performing thus far. You’re not sure you want this to end.

With his hands armed with penlights between his fingers, he swipes swiftly across the air, as if he’s cutting the space in between. One, two, three large circles in quick succession before kneeling on the floor, pose akin to an over-dramatic archer. From there on, every spot he hits in the air is calculated, as if he’s aiming for a bullseye on a dartboard before his hands move down to his side. Then, a pulse of motion before he aggressively spins his lightsticks in the air. Swinging low, left, right, left, bringing up his lightsticks past his head, before repeating the motion all over again.

It’s silly. He’s silly. It’s another side of him you haven’t seen before, despite him being such a dedicated fan. Maybe the crowd was just a distraction from seeing Satoru for who he really was.

Maybe it’s a good thing they aren’t here.

That breaks your train of thought. You know you shouldn’t be thinking of him like this – it’s unprofessional. This doesn’t stop the thought from lurking in the background, from reappearing on the surface when you meet his gaze, see the way he smiles for you and–presumably–only you.

As the instrumental fades, you shoot your hands up, gently bringing them down with a graceful flair, pausing when they reach hip height.

Even after a performance of his own, Satoru still cheers with the same momentum from the start of the night. His energy truly knows no bounds.

“Thanks again for coming, I really appreciate it,” you breathe into the mic heavily, your exhaustion now catching up to your body.

“I really had so much fun performing today. I hope we’ll see each other at the next live!” You thank your single fan of the night with a 90 degree bow, before running to gather supplies for the meet and greet session. And knowing Satoru, he will be participating.

As soon as you finish speaking, Satoru’s quick to walk to the counter, as if there’s a tangible chance anything is going to sell out. An exchange of words and bills and he comes bearing a handful of tickets – his usual.

Before you’ve even finished setting things up, Satoru walks up to the stage. There’s no need to wait to be called up when you’re the only performer here, him the only fan.

He waits patiently as you grab a small table and a pack of paint markers hiding behind one end of the stage.

“Thanks for coming, Satoru!” You reach out to grab his hand.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He meets your gaze.

“How did you enjoy the show?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“I guess not,” you chuckle, “I’m glad you had fun.”

You gesture your manager to come over, and he speedwalks over with an instax camera in hand.

“I know it’s your birthday, but could I ask for something?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Could I…” he trails off, a contemplative look painting his face as he chooses his next words.

“Yeah?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and gesturing for him to continue.

“Could I put my arm around you for this one?” he asks, with newfound confidence.

Your ears perk up at the question. “You’re not gonna post it anywhere, right?”

“‘Course not. You have my word.” He pats his hand against his chest and gives you a reassuring smile.

You give a contemplative glance to your manager holding the polaroid camera, who gives you a shrug.

“Okay, but only this once.”

Then you break a second taboo, letting a fan touch you past a fleeting handshake, the connecting fingers of a heart.

His arm wraps around your waist and you do the same to him. It’s no surprise he’s warm, which makes sense considering he’s been dancing around just as much as you, if not more. However, it is a surprise you’ve never noticed how nice he smells. Then again, live venues aren’t exactly conducive to scents that aren’t sweat and dust.

With a bright flash, the polaroid hums as it prints out the photo. Satoru doesn’t linger, even though you think he would. And when his touch leaves, you almost wish you savored his warmth a bit longer before shaking the thought out of your head.

Every other pose he asks for is within the realm of normal. Several different hand heart variants, cat paws, the occasional silly pose thrown into the mix. It almost feels like a couples shoot. Almost. Pose after pose, flash after flash and you’re left with a handful of polaroids to sign, laid out in a messy array on the table.

“What was your favorite part?” you ask.

At this point, you think you have him figured out. Though Satoru has been to several shows, his answer usually boils down to a few options when you sift through all the embellishments and wordy rambles. Your performance, your outfit, your energy, and –

“Having you all to myself.”

That catches you by surprise.

For the first time since the beginning of the night, your composure cracks. It takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the situation and attempt to put a smile on your face again, but your voice comes out cold and distant.

“Huh?”

“How’d you like your birthday gift?” he asks, ignoring your confusion.

“Gift? Like performing?” you ask back, shaking the paint pen to get ready to sign the polaroid. You look back at him with a wavering smile. “It was fun.”

“No, no, not that.” Satoru waves his hand in front of his face and shakes his head. “Your first sold out live! I bought all the tickets.”

Your hand seizes in the middle of writing, a growing blob of paint forming where the pen is pushed down against the film. There’s no air to be found in your lungs, as if the entirety of the concert hits you all at once. When you find it in yourself to look at him, he stands there with his usual innocent smile painted on his face, patiently awaiting your reaction.

You clear your throat before finally speaking. “Really?”

“Really,” he says with ease, almost prideful at the fact.

The idea of him spending thousands on selling out a show seems implausible, but then again it is Satoru. If anyone were to do something so ridiculous, it would be him.

A nervous laugh escapes you, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts. It feels like you’re on a tightrope, a delicate balance to toe between professionalism and fanservice.

“You like me that much?” It’s a true, honest question. You finally lift the pen off the film, frowning slightly at the pool of paint on the picture.

“Of course!”

You don’t know how to respond to that. There’s no training guide on handling situations like this, but there really should be. You choose your next words carefully, falling back on something safe, distant.

“Thank you for your continued support.” The words come out hesitantly, robotic, like you’re reading off a script.

“Anything for you,” he responds warmly, seemingly unaffected by your tone.

If you heard this at one of your usual concerts, you wouldn’t have paid it much mind – just one of those casual comments a fan says to their oshi. Now, his words have some weight. It’s not something you feel comfortable holding.

But a twinge of guilt hits your heart when you look at him, when he still smiles with admiration on his face, like you’re the one who hung the moon and stars in the night sky. Maybe you’re being too harsh on him; different fans show their support in different ways after all. Hell, you’re sure some of your members would kill to have a fan like him.

Regardless, it’s still hard to shake off the uneasiness that plagues your chest, even harder to come back from a conversation like this.

“Have you considered doing more solo activities?” Satoru asks, ignorant of the thoughts that plague you.

“Eh?” You jerk at his words, not expecting him to carry the conversation. “Not really,” you respond while drawing an assortment of random doodles across the polaroids. The usual decorations, hearts, sparkles, confetti, what have you.

“You really should, I’d be the first to cheer you on!” he says with a smile that puts the sun to shame and that twinge of guilt hits you again. Here he is supporting you in earnest, and you’re judging him for it.

“Would you now?” you attempt to joke but it comes out a bit shaky.

“Of course!” he exclaims, your unease going seemingly unnoticed.

“Well, if I ever do, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you there,” you respond with a soft smile before moving on to labeling the pictures with the date and your signature.

“You promise?” He holds out his pinky, waiting for you to reciprocate. You take a moment to ponder before raising your hand to meet his.

“Promise,” you reply, intertwining your pinkies together. The visible glee on Satoru’s face is a sight to behold. Part of you wonders if he only shows this side of himself to you.

“Oh, I think they should be dry, but still be careful with them.”

“I know, I know, wouldn’t let anything bad happen to them.” He holds them gingerly as you hand them off to him, as if he’s holding a newborn puppy in the palm of his hands.

“Have a nice night, Satoru.”

“You too. See you soon!”

----

The activities of the night catch up to your body when you make it to the green room, plopping on to the vanity chair. If you landed any harder or the chair was any cheaper, you’re sure it would’ve broken from the way you tossed your dead weight onto it. You spin around aimlessly on the chair, staring up at the ceiling as a form of decompression. All you need is a moment to recollect yourself after the emotional roller coaster of a night.

A knock on the door and your back immediately straightens, posture prim and proper as can be. Your manager opens the door, barely peeking through to greet you.

“Hey, good job tonight,” he comments, opening the door fully once he sees you’re just lounging around.

“Thanks.”

“I’ve finished closing up, so just turn off the lights when you head out.”

“Yup, got it.” You give your manager a thumbs up and a smile, and he takes it as a sign to leave.

Before he has the chance to close the door shut, you grab his attention, a question burning in your head. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” he responds, opening the door again so you can see him face to face.

“Was the concert really sold out?”

“Yep,” he states matter-of-factly, “you should get your cut by next week.”

The pay is the last thing on your mind.

“Okay.” It comes out hushed, strained.

“Anything else?” he asks, tapping his fingers against the door.

You ponder it for a moment, but you’re not sure you want to bring up your concerns to him, if it’s worth the fight. What are you supposed to say? The walking piggy bank that sponsored the entirety of your performance makes you just a tad uneasy? But then again, he’s probably just a nice and honest fan. He might have an interesting way of showing it, but at the end of the day he’s proved himself to be harmless. You don’t see a solution that doesn’t lead to an extreme, and you don’t necessarily want to punish him for his support. So you bite your tongue, letting your thoughts stir and simmer.

“No,” you sigh, resigned.

“Alright, then,” he says, none the wiser, “have a nice night.”

“You too.”

You plop back onto your seat with a groan. The desire to relax for another moment outweighs the desire to get out of your costume. It’s easy to find yourself lost in thought, daydreaming about being back home, taking a nice hot bath to relax your sore muscles.

There’s another knock on your door.

“I’ll be out in a few, just give me a moment-”

The door opens with a slow creak.

It’s not your manager.

“Oh, Satoru!” you say, shock coursing through your body as you jump up from your seat, “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you off,” he says, as if it’s normal for him to be back here. Didn’t your manager close up? He would’ve seen him and kicked him out, right?

“I thought we said our goodbyes earlier,” you respond, voice an octave higher than usual. It only comes out when you’re trying your best to defuse a situation. “You know, at the meet and greet portion?”

“I know, I know,” he says, waving his hands as if he’s shooing away your comment, casually walking towards you.

You don’t think he actually knows.

“But we had such a good time, didn’t we?” he asks, taking another step forward to close the distance between the two of you.

“I mean, yeah! But there’s a-”

“What if we let it continue?” he interrupts, “your birthday isn’t over yet.” He glances over at the clock and your eyes follow. 10:12pm. The second hand moves slower than you’d like.

“It’s your special day isn’t it? Let me treat you.” His body presses closer against yours. The pressure makes you more aware of his height against yours, of the muscular build you feel through the thin layer of fabric.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, not this close. “I’m not sure if this is a line I should cross, Satoru,” you mumble, an attempt to convince yourself to abide by the silent oath all idols take when they first get on stage and declare themselves entertainers – be as innocent as possible. No male friends, no dating, and certainly no hookups.

“You don’t have to cross anything,” he says, voice low. His face is dangerously close to yours, and your heart skips a beat when you realize just how beautiful he is – the tufts of white carefully brushing across his forehead, the glint of sweat that makes his skin glisten, and those hypnotic crystalline eyes of his, glimmering with devotion just for you. “I’ll cross it for you.”

Without any warning, his lips press against yours, and it’s nothing like what you expected. Nothing like the crazed, enthused fan you’re used to seeing. It’s gentle, sweet. The taste of melon soda sits on his lips.

The moment your lips part to say something, Satoru takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in, teasingly pressing against yours. His hand grabs yours before you can react, fingers intertwining until it represents something romantic. You feel your defenses slipping as his other hand grabs your chin to deepen the kiss.

You hate to admit it, but he’s a good kisser. Somehow, it comes so naturally with him. A dance shared between the two of you, except there’s no stage platform keeping you apart. He’s right here, not an inch of space to be found between your bodies. Everything about him overwhelms you – his gentle hand holding yours, the softness of his lips, the way he nearly whimpers with every kiss, needy and desperate for more.

Satoru’s knee pushes against your thighs, pressing to split your legs apart until your crotch rests on top of him.

“Let me spoil you,” he pleads, out of breath.

It’s far from the end, it’s just the beginning. A love letter to each part of your body, delicately inked with the utmost care.

His lips bite the tip of your right glove, gripping the fabric before pulling off to reveal your bare hands. The sight sends heat rushing to your core, seeing him hold the glove between his lips before spitting it out. When you cover your face with your gloved hand from embarrassment, Satoru meets you there. A soft nip at your finger before peeling the other glove off your hand, eyes looking up at you with something dark, something low. You don’t recognize it.

Once your hands are bare, he holds them gently. No excited death grip like the first time he held them at a meet and greet.

“I’m so lucky I get to hold these cute hands of yours.” Open mouth kisses from the tip of your fingers, slowly making their way up your forearm, your bicep, until he meets your shoulder.

“W-wait, Satoru, I’m still kinda sweaty, let me-”

“You think that bothers me? I love every part of you.” He drags his tongue up your forearm again before kissing and sucking on the skin. “And I really do mean every part.”

Over the months, you’ve learned that Satoru is many things, but he’s not a liar. The way he explores every inch of your body is filled with admiration. You feel it in the way he leaves messy kisses on your skin, nearly moaning when he licks the sweat off you.

When he brings your arms up, you pick up on what he’s going to do next and rush to get your words out. “W-wait, S-Satoru it’s kinda gross, isn’t it?”

“Not to me,” he says it like it’s an undeniable truth, “but if you think so, then I’ll just have to clean you up, right?” As if to prove his point, Satoru flicks his tongue before dragging a stripe against the curve of your underarm. From there he licks the droplets off of you like a man at the brink of dehydration who just found an oasis. He’s messy and wet, leaving nothing behind but his spit as he licks up anything and everything perspired from your body. “Tastes sweet to me.”

With that he goes in for the other side, once again lapping at your sweat like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Even when he’s licked up all there is to be savored, he’s not finished until he leaves sloppy kisses, sucking and nipping at the skin. He bites a little too hard for your liking, earning a yelp from you.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself, you taste so good,” Satoru’s quick to apologize, looking at you with a cheeky smile, “wanted to have a bite to myself.”

And then he’s squatting onto his knees, hands delicately massaging your thigh as he looks up at you to ask, “could you lift your skirt for me, sweetheart?”

You comply, bringing up the hem of your skirt. Since you haven’t started your undressing process of the night, you’re still wearing your safety shorts. Satoru doesn’t seem to mind, basking at the sight of your upper thighs he’s only caught glimpses of when you jump on stage.

“You don’t need this with me.” He pulls on the hem of your shorts, swiftly bringing them down to your ankles, as if he’s unwrapping a present with a pull of a bow.

You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that you can’t see him under your skirt, getting lost in the layers of crinoline and ruffles that blend in with his hair. It adds a layer of anticipation, being unable to see what exactly he’s doing, though you’re not sure if you would be able to look at him even without the barrier of the skirt.

Satoru starts low, plush lips pressed against your ankle, tongue tracing up your calf and leaving a wet kiss on your thigh. One moment you feel a hint of teeth around your garter, and the next you feel it loosen and fall to your feet.

Feeling too exposed, you instinctively press your legs together – not that this stops Satoru.

His tongue presses against the seam created from your thighs pressed against each other, and a soft moan slips from your lips.

“If you want more, you’ll have to open up,” he pants breathily, planting another open mouthed kiss on your leg.

There’s an aching want growing in your core, burning hot unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. When he looks up at you, you recognize the way his eyes glimmer with determination. You think you can trust him to tame it. And though Satoru was the first to cross the line, you aren’t any better.

You hesitantly shuffle your legs apart, unable to meet his eyes, waiting nervously for what’s to come.

Satoru is quick to take the opportunity.

He dives in, tongue pressed against the cotton of your underwear. His tongue rolls against your clit through the fabric, and you desperately wish the thin layer wasn’t there.

“Working so hard for me,” he coos, talking directly into your pussy, “you deserve a little treat.”

You want to protest that you’d work hard even if he wasn’t there, but you’re not sure that’s true anymore. The only sound that leaves your mouth is a whine as his tongue ghosts over your clit.

The wet sounds that echo throughout the room fills you with embarrassment, and you’d be regretting it if it didn’t feel so damn good. You don’t remember the last time you felt like this. Satoru’s just too skilled, his tongue pressing flat against your clit before flicking and you respond with a choked back whine.

It shouldn’t matter, you’ve crossed the line already. But there’s something about letting him hear you like this that sets your face ablaze.

Satoru’s fingers press against your folds through the fabric, spreading them apart before his tongue hones in on your clit. Each drag of his tongue draws shapes onto the bundle of nerves with intention. If you could think properly, maybe you’d be able to make out the letters, another confession of his love to you.

Only once your underwear is thoroughly soaked with a mix of his spit and your arousal, does he pull the fabric to the side. Your breath hitches at the sudden exposure, the cold air of the room fanning against your skin. The sensation doesn’t last long as Satoru’s face enthusiastically presses into your cunt. Everything about it is too much; the way his nose presses against your clit, his tongue lapping messily between your folds.

A finger slips in with little resistance around the ring of muscle and you can’t hold your moans back anymore.

“You like that?” he asks.

You give him a shy nod.

“Then lemme hear more of you,” he says, before planting his face back into your pussy.

The sounds get louder as he practically makes out with your pussy. Lips pressed against your clit before a sliver of tongue makes its way out, teasing you with a flick.

Satoru slips in another finger and you groan at the fullness. You knew his hands were large, you’ve felt them before countless times during your post-concert handshakes. Maybe you should’ve taken a longer look at them, analyzed them more thoroughly. The thought never crossed your mind that he would use them like this, knuckles deep into your cunt.

The way he explores your body scares you. How he knows where to press to get a reaction, how to hook his fingers to get you to lean into his touch. As if he absorbed anything and everything there is to know about you through your fleeting moments together. His fingers curl and hit a spot that has you weak in the knees, leaning back onto the counter to find balance.

“Wait, please,” you whine, high pitched and needy. It gets harder to keep your skirt up for him, legs weak from his ministrations.

“Hey, I said keep it up, didn’t I?” he pauses, taking a moment to look up at you from the ruffles.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, gorgeous. Just wanna see your face when you cum on my tongue.” With that, he goes back in, far more aggressive than before. His fingers move faster, drawing out wet squelches from your pussy with each pass. The noises he makes are far too lewd for your ears, slurping and groaning as he laps at your clit. This is more the Satoru you recognize, the one you saw earlier tonight. Satoru, who loses himself in the heat of the moment, who eats you out like a man starved.

It’s obvious you’re close with how much your legs tighten. Satoru senses this too, his pace intensifying to get you there.

“Let it all out for me sweetie,” he pants into your cunt between flicks of his tongue. That winding coil in your core snaps and the grip around your skirt tightens as you cum on his tongue. You can’t hold your moans back, letting them messily spill from your mouth as a warm pleasure rushes through your body.

Satoru doesn’t stop, even after the moans have left your body and your muscles have started to relax again. Your heart races at the realization that he wants more.

“Please, please, please, it’s too much-”

“It’s okay, I know you can do it,” he coos, far too sweetly for what he’s asking for you,“lemme give you another, ok?”

Your legs tremble, muscles spasming as his tongue works around your clit in earnest, swirling around the nub as his fingers continue to press against your g-spot. He doesn’t relent when you hand grips onto his hair – if anything it encourages him to go harder. Whatever it takes to get you closer to clenching around his fingers and moan for him in that saccharine voice of yours.

And it works – almost hurts when you cum around his fingers a second time without so much a break. You can’t stop yourself from moaning his name, nearly on the same level of adoration he gives you during your concerts. Satoru seems to be getting a kick out of it, his breathing becoming more labored the more you call for him.

When he takes his fingers out, you wince at the feeling, still sensitive from your orgasms. Your legs threaten to give out on you, but Satoru’s quick to wrap his hand around your waist.

“You did so good for me,” he rushes in to kiss you, and the taste of melon soda barely lingers. You taste yourself– a bit bitter and salty–on his lips, on his tongue when you open and entice him to take you.

Satoru pulls on the elastic of your skirt, raising it up until it’s past your waist. The hem of your skirt now barely covers your exposed pussy, the ruffles brushing it against it as you shift.

He turns and bends you over the vanity, the mirror’s lights shining brightly in your face. It’s not that far off from stage lighting — white rings reflected back in your pupils as you stare back at your reflection.

“You know how cute you are?” he whispers into your ear, so close you can feel the warmth from his words. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

You can’t exactly look back to see it, but you feel it. Something solid pressed against you, wrapped in the cotton of his pants, sliding in between your wet folds. It only takes a moment for him to free himself from the confine of fabric, to feel something hot and heavy and real pushing against you.

“You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this,” he says, cockhead sitting on top of your folds. Just feeling you, skin to skin, earns a visceral reaction from him. He can’t stop himself from moaning at the warmth of your cunt, even when it’s just the tip sinking in.

Satoru savors every moment of pushing himself into you, hands shaking as he searches to hold yours. The sound you let out once he bottoms out is foreign to your ears. It stretches you out so much you regret not turning around to get a good look at it.

Satoru starts slow, but you can feel the restraint in his movements. A languid roll of his hips as he fucks into you, littering your neck with kisses. You attempt to tell him not to bite, but all you can let out is a sweet moan when he does.

The drag of his cock against your walls is dangerously addictive, like you could be hooked on this forever. And though it feels good, it’s not enough. His strokes are teasingly slow, as if he wants you to ask for more.

Again, Satoru stumps you by showing how much self control he has. If his wotagei was anything to go off of, you were expecting something frenzied and manic. But you do see a part of his passion reflected in his actions. In the way his words leave his tongue, honeyed and sweet. In the way he fucks you with a tenderness you weren’t sure he would ever be capable of.

“Feelin’ good?”

“Mmhm,” you nod, attempting to hold your voice back from sounding any lewder.

Satoru’s eyes watch over you through the reflection, corners of his lips upturned as you lose yourself into him, voice nothing but dulcet moans. A rush of red rises to his cheeks, making him burn brighter than before.

“God, you’re going to be the end of me,” Satoru groans, his chest pressing against your back until there’s no space left between your bodies, the heat radiating off of him making it feel like you’re melting. With the way he’s rolling his hips into you, you might as well be. Each drag of his cock makes you dizzy, makes you wish you threw your ideals to the side far sooner.

It just feels too good; part of you wonders if this is how lovers do. Maybe not in this particular location or situation, but in the way his hand reaches over to yours. Fingers finding each other and intertwining once again, as if this was always the way it was meant to be. Something drums up in your heart – you don’t want to let go. Desire unfurls in your chest and you want to live in the moment, but you also wish you could bottle it up and save it forever, especially when his soft lips gently kiss your neck before biting to leave yet another mark.

As sweet as it is, you think you’re getting a bit greedy. You want to see more, want to see the Satoru you’ve come to appreciate in all his frenzied affection. With the way he’s moving so slow, he has to be testing you, right? A way to make you say the magic words just so he can hear them, the tone and pitch of your voice, the way you enunciate every syllable so sweetly, commit them to memory. Or maybe he thinks you can’t handle it, in which case, you want to show him you can. A way of thanking him for his years of support.

You don’t do it on purpose – you just can’t help it, looking at him all doe-eyed and a slight pout to your lips. “S-Satoru, harder,” you whine, and something breaks in him. Any ounce of self control goes out the window as soon as you mutter those words.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he mewls, arms wrapping around your lower waist.

His fingers search for your clit, flipping through the layers of ruffles before pressing onto the bud. Within moments he’s playing with it like it’s all he’s ever known, until he has you whining and wincing from his touch. Drawing rough shapes around the bundle of nerves until your muscles squeeze around him.

He starts fucking into you harder, the sound of skin slapping far too loud to ignore. Your hand grips onto his harder, skin balmy from the sweat and heat emanating from both of you.

“You like that, princess?” he asks in a huff, barely able to contain his lust.

All you’re able to let out is a whimper and a nod, and Satoru takes it as a sign to continue.

You don’t recognize yourself in the reflection, tiara crooked, stage outfit unkempt, the debauched expressions you make as your number one fan fucks you senseless. But it doesn’t matter – there’s only one thing on your mind at this very moment, that hot tension in your stomach rapidly rolling towards its peak.

“S-Satoru, I’m, I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum for me,” Satoru growls breathily into your ear, gently kissing the shell before continuing, “let it all out just for me.”

When your climax washes over you, it’s far more intense than the others he’s given you tonight. Legs trembling as pure bliss rushes throughout your body, even as Satoru continues fucking you through it. It’s too much, moaning his name as a way to talk yourself through it. Every part of you is warm and fuzzy as pleasure runs its course.

Satoru isn’t far behind, he’d probably want this to last longer but he just can’t – not with the way your walls clench and squeeze around him. With a few more strokes he’s burying himself deep into you, huffing and panting as he empties hot, white ropes of his seed into you.

It takes a moment to peel away from him, and the second you do, he’s quick to tighten his grasp around you, to hold you in your arms just a bit longer.

Satoru gives you a kiss on the cheek, something gentle and chaste.

“Did you like your present?”

[glaciertea]

Tickets for Two

Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader two-shot

Part 2

This is part one of this story that's been on my mind for quite a while.

Summary: Working the graveyard shift at a movie theater has it quirks. It's not the best thing, and it's not the worst.

Well, there is one thing that keeps you from leaving this job.

The huge, gorgeous man who comes in every Thursday.

CW: Nothing for this chapter, just having a crush on Miguel.

Word count: 1.7k

There was something about Thursday nights in the movie theater that always made you exhilarated.

It wasn't the smell of freshly stale popcorn that stunk up your nostrils or the fact that you were able to score the after-hours time slot on this day. The ones many would kill to have because after 9 p.m., the place is a barren ghost town. Oh, no. It wasn't one of those reasons. 

It was him.

Throughout the year and a half you managed to survive working here; you've never seen a man like that before in your life. Yes, you've seen your fair share of attractive people come in and out; of course, this was a place to watch the latest hit-or-miss films. But this one, this one was different.

Tall, high cheekbones, a jawline that could shapren diamonds merely by looking at them, those piercing eyes, and those muscles. You always have to pinch yourself to make sure you're not dreaming.

He started coming three months ago for the ‘Traditional Thursdays’ feature presentation. Your theater would show old movies from the 1930's ranging to the 2020's or 2030's. It was a nice addition, as your boss wanted to have that “retro-style feel,” and it was pretty successful… if one were to go at the 9 p.m. slot. That frame usually brought in a decent amount of customers, but you were happy to not deal with that anymore.

You managed to get in the ten-to-one schedule block. It was a ghost town during those hours, especially with the midnight showings. You would lounge behind the concession, eyeing a few nightcrawlers emerge, but you would wait for him.

He would walk through the sliding doors exactly at midnight. Never a minute early, never a minute late. The actual film doesn't begin until 12:10 to showcase the following week's feature and a trailer or two. 

So it gives him enough time to head in your direction. He has become a regular for you, always ordering a medium black roast coffee, a small popcorn, and a pack of gummy worms. It got to the point where you realized the items were never going to change, so you made it a habit to have them prepared for him on hand. You barely speak because you don't know what to conjure up, and you certainly don't want to make a fool of yourself, so you stick to the basic “Here's your order” and “Enjoy your film.”

He always responds with a “Thank you” or an “I appreciate it,” and each time, your knees will wobble. His voice was smoother than the butter that you poured on the popcorn. He had you weak. His chiseled profile, his domineering height—he was too good to be true. You want to know more about him, but he's very much to himself. You are intimidated by him; his demeanor can make him seem unapproachable, but that only draws you in more.

There will be a day you will finally find the courage to strike up a conversation. One day.

You just weren't expecting it to be today. You manned the concussion stand, eyeing the time and counting the milliseconds. It was, of course, slow, but you loved it. Easy money to you.

His order was fresh and ready to go; he was going to stroll in less than a minute, and you had to put a lid on your excitement. And like clockwork, he came in and made his way right to you.

Putting on your best smile, you placed the snacks and beverage on the counter. “I got everything ready to go, sir. Piping hot and a new batch of popcorn made.”

“Actually, I want to switch it up. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.”

Your brain practically malfunctioned. Not from the request, but from the fact he uttered more words to you. Your reaction must have given something away as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“If not, that's fine. I don't want you wasting supplies on me.”

Scolding yourself, you shook your head and waved your hands. “No, no! No, sir, it's not an inconvenience at all. I'll gladly ring you up with a new order. Anything for the customer.” You despised saying that phrase as it got so many ungrateful, smug idiots out of problems they decided to cause. But for him? You would repeat it endlessly.

Discarding the usual and clearing the order from the register, you nodded. “What are your taste buds tingling for?” Did you really say those words in that order? Your body suddenly wanted to combust.

The man raised a brow as you chuckled nervously. “That sounded... less dumber in my head.”

His lips turned upwards at that, and your heart stopped. He smiles? He can smile! You never once saw him do that, but if you did, you managed to miss it. He managed to look more radiant; how was that possible?

“Well, my taste buds are craving pretzel bites, fruit snacks, and... can I make my medium roast into a large?”

“Yes, sir, I'll try to get it done before the film starts.” 

“No hay necesidad de apresurarse. Take your time.”

“Okay.” You squeaked out, hiding your flustered state from him.

Miguel rested his arms on the countertop and observed the way you moved back and forth, blending new beans and meticulously placing the hot pretzels in a bag. 

“Here you go.” You reached down and took a packet of fruits and propped it nicely on the pretzel bag. “Steaming and raring to go.”

“Are you usually precise when making these orders?” Miguel pulled his wallet out and paid for the meal, leaving a nice tip.

“Kind of. Maybe it's because I have more time to do these things, and I like my regulars to enjoy nice treats.” You grinned and went to clean up his usual. “I hope you enjoy.

“I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Definitely keeping sure. Thank you again.”

You didn't know what meant by that as he took up his things and headed off to catch the film. You put your hand to your chest and calmed your heart rate, going on about your night. You honestly believed that would've been the end of that interaction and that the following week would revert back to the same old, same old, but you were far from it.

The next Thursday, he was there, but fifteen minutes earlier, asking for a new item from the menu alongside the other treats. You were once again thrown off, but that didn't mean you got to be near his presence more, and if not longer. 

It started off with small extras. A bag of pretzels, sized up on the popcorn, an extra bag of candy—nothing too extravagant. However, as the weeks coasted by, the orders got bigger. A hotdog, flatbread pizza, sliders—those meals took you longer to make, but you did not mind one bit. 

You got to chat with him constantly; when Thursday rolled around, you had that extra pep in your step. The conversations ranged from his tedious office filled with people of the same personality, the many tales of strange movie customers from you, or anything that springs to mind. He was awkward, loveable, and sweet, and your crush for him only grew more with each visit. To the point that it was overwhelming.

And it wasn't blowing away anytime soon. 

You were fixing him up a basket of curly fries and chicken tenders casually yapping away when the topic of movie genres popped up.

“I'm into animated movies. They seemingly are able to convey more emotions than actual humans.”

Miguel enjoyed watching you; he honestly preferred looking at you than the film he was supposed to see. “I enjoy them as well. They tend to have moments that resonate with you on a higher emotional level.” He tapped his finger on the glass counter. “Do you have any favorites?”

“Hmm.” You rubbed your chin before moving back over to the fries and dumping some extra salt and pepper on them (they barely had any flavor to them). “I like a good Lixar film. It's funny how they're able to give certain things sentiment. Rather it's inanimate or not, they find a way. I mean, they gave a torso and sweater emotions. A sweater!” You poured the fries into the plastic basket and moved onto the tenders. “Now in particular, I love Bouillabaisse. Up is a heartbreaker, but I can understand the older man's pain. Searching Elmo is so gorgeous, especially for the time it came out. And Coco, that's a tearjerker. That ending scene when he's singing to her? Gets me every time.” 

“I enjoyed all those as well.” Miguel took a sip of his freshly brewed coffee. “Especially the last one.”

“Oh yeah?” You grabbed some tongs and flipped the tenders to cook them evenly. 

“Sí. A bit of a bias though.” 

“A bias?”

“I share the name of the main character.” He stared right into your eyes as he said that.

“Miguel.” It was velvety as it slid off your tongue.

Was that a suave way of him giving his name? It never occurred to you that you actually never learned his name. He knew yours because of the required name tag, but you were glad to know it now and took it with no complaints.

“It fits.” You smiled and finally finished and rang up his meal. “I shouldn't keep you from the movie. I hope everything is of satisfaction for you.”

“You already know it will be.” He paid and reached for his goods when he stopped.

You crooked your neck and looked down to make sure you didn't miss anything. His usual and the new meal were there, so you didn't know what was up. 

“Is everything okay? Did I mess up your order?”

“Everything is fine. I only want to…” he snatched up a napkin and scanned, even going as far as peering over the counter.

“Miguel?” 

“Do you have a pen?” 

“Yes?” You took one from under the register and handed it to him.

“Thank you.” He scribbled down at lightning pace and folded it half, sliding it across to you. “I'll see you then.” He bowed his head, snagged up his meal and left. 

You had to wait several seconds to recover from your shock when you hastily snatched up the napkin and opened it up. You drew your lips to your teeth to prevent yourself from screaming. 

There were ten digits written in blue.

[hcsiqs]

Please I’m dying for some Morgan fluff of any sorts ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️

| now that you know me so well

• pairing: morgan cheli x teammate!reader

• summary: morgan realizes she has a crush on you and doesn’t know how to go about it without freaking out

• warnings: kinda soft angst to fluff??? im not sure

yes yes i love morgan

The whole team had gotten tickets to go see A Boogie in concert, so that’s how Morgan found herself in your passenger seat. You could tell something was off with her as she fiddled with the glasses that she had resting on her head. She kept taking them off her head and then would put them back on, pulling her phone out to look at herself every couple of seconds.

To you, it almost seemed like she was nervous. You weren’t sure about what, but she definitely wasn’t acting her normal bubbly self.

As soon as Morgan arrived in Connecticut the two of you hit it off immediately. You were a sophomore at UConn compared to her being a freshman, so when you had heard about her possibly committing last year, you watched all her high school highlights that you could find and immediately loved how she played the game.

The fact that she’s amazing at getting rebounds was the first thing you noticed watching her play. It honestly got you so excited for her to be playing with UConn because well, the team isn’t the best at getting rebounds. And then when she got here and was one of the sweetest most out going people you ever, you were even more excited for the year ahead.

You spent most of your time around her, just helping her out around campus here and there when she needed it, like finding the gym or cafeteria. And over those small interactions you two grew close. Which meant you had learned how she acts when she’s nervous or somethings bothering her.

“Everything good?” You asked, taking your attention away from the road for a quick second to look at the girl beside you. You took removed your right hand from the steering wheel and placed it on her leg, hoping it would calm down whatever nerves she was feeling.

But that action only seemed to up her nerves, “Oh, yeah, yeah, I’m good,” she nodded her head quickly up and down before retracting her leg from your hand as she crossed it over her other leg. You then moved your hand away from her, it finding the back of your neck as you rubbed it awkwardly.

“Ok,” you respond before placing your hand back on the wheel.

The rest of the drive was pretty silent besides A Boogie playing from the car. Then as soon as you parked she immediately got out of the car and found her way over to Aubrey. You didn’t miss the way the 6’1 grad student looked at you before going back to her conversation with Morgan.

You then found yourself getting nervous. Trying to think of ways you could’ve possibly fucked up and made Morgan not like you anymore.

As the team entered the venue, you turned your cap backwards so that the rim wouldn’t be in your face all night. And then several people headed to the concessions to get drinks, one of those people being Morgan, so obviously you followed.

But Morgan seemed to be in a non-stop conversation with Aubrey until it was her turn to order her drink. You noticed how Morgan was avoiding eye contact as she went on her phone, but then it was her time to order. You immediately stepped up beside her, making her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I got it,” you nudged your head to the server as you placed your hand on the small of her back that was exposed due to the crop top she was sporting. “Whatcha want?”

“Um Dr. Pepper,” she gave an awkward smile.

“Two Dr. Peppers please,” you smiled at the server, your hand still resting on her back. You then handed them your card before receiving the two drinks. Before you got the chance to hand Morgan hers, she was fishing for her wallet in her pants to try and pay you back. “Chill Mo, it’s just a drink,” you laughed, guiding the two of you to your seats with the rest of the team.

The concert was fun, with Paige getting recognized every five seconds and as well just being together with everyone on the team. But once the concert came to a close and due to Paige’s popularity, the team found themselves shooting basketballs with A Boogie in some random parking lot. You decided that this would be a good time to talk to Morgan and ask if you had done something because if it went badly, no one would be paying attention.

“Can I talk to you?” You bent down to whisper in Morgan’s ear, your fingertips lingering on her back. From how close you two were, you could hear her take in a deep breath before nodding her head yes. You then took her to a quieter area, away from everyone yelling. You let out a deep breath before shoving your hands in your oversized jeans, “Did I do something? I-I just feel like I did. And if I did something to make you uncomfortable I’m really sorry,” you began rambling, your eyes searching Morgan’s for any indication of what you had done.

“No, no,” she immediately shut you down. “You didn’t do anything,” she reassured you. She brought her hands up to her hair parting the back of it before laying it down against her chest. “I—um,” she started to talk but it was evident how nervous she was.

“Oh,” you nodded, still trying to figure out why she had been acting so weird around you lately. “Are you sure? I just feel like you’ve been acting different towards me lately.”

Morgan sucked her teeth and then started biting the inside of her cheeks, too scared to say what she was thinking. The truth was that she had gained a crush on you and suddenly didn’t know how to act around you and she most definitely thought she was doing better at covering it up.

She opened her mouth before closing it right back, trying to find the words. You just let the silence fall between you as you could see the wheels turning in her head.

“Um, so, I think I like you, an-and it freaks me out because now I don’t know what to do or say or anything. And I know you probably don’t like me like that so yeah,” she spoke quickly, the embarrassment taking over her cheeks in a red flush.

You couldn’t help but smile at her. The way she was so nervous to tell, but you could also feel your heart smiling at her confession.

“Just forget I said anything,” her eyes were trained on her feet as she tried walking back to the group, but you stopped her with your arm and pulled her back in front of you.

“I like you too,” you smiled, your hand coming up to her face and cupping her jaw. “Like a lot,” you laughed before bringing her into a sweet and short kiss.

“Really?” her brown eyes sparkled as looked into yours, her cheeks now pink from the soft kiss.

“Mhm,” you nodded with a big stupid smile on your lips. Your lips met hers again, but now her hands came to your head pulling you in deeper, also causing your hat to fall off from her hands pulling on it. You both let out a laugh as it hit the floor, and once you pulled back you picked the hat up and placed it on the freshman’s head. “You look cute.”

“Not cuter than you,” she replied, her hands coming up to the hat on her head.

allie’s corner

i love me some cheli cheli