#I just. had. to make this and put it here because. reasons

[smileysuh]

puppy boy

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. You have an ulterior motive with Mingyu, but you’d bet your right arm he has one too. Most of the guys you’ve met who are into you don’t bother with getting to know you, or having similar interests. Men in this day and age have - for the most part - lost their ability to engage in the nuances of wooing, but there’s something about this cute, beefy art major that tells you he might just have what it takes to build something meaningful with you.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, masturbation, mention of porn addiction, foreplay, ‘weird kinks’, massaging, breast worship, body worship, oral, pussy eating, blow job, hand job, man handling, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of voyuerism, degradation, praise, dirty talk, Mingyu is a switchy simp, big cock Mingyu agenda, fingering, etc… I pet names: (his) puppy boy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.8k 

🍭 aus. Svt cam boy au, frat au, university au, perv!Mingyu, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. This is part 3 of a 3 part cam boy svt au. Each story can be read as a stand-alone, but exists within the same universe :) Wonwoo is April, Seungcheol is May, and this Mingyu fic concludes the series. Find the completed masterlist here.

Prologue:

Mingyu had joined the Sigma Veta Tau frat for brotherhood, and at first, everything had been sunshine and rainbows for the Art major. He’d found friends that he knows will be lifelong mates, and it feels as if his family has truly grown at least another twelve members.

However, things have changed since he joined.

Now, two of his closest friends have started dating, and suddenly, the whole ‘Bros before hoes’ thing has gone out the window. 

Mingyu’s not mad about it per se, in fact, it’s kind of nice to see Seungcheol and Wonwoo enjoying life- but there are other factors to consider.

The first factor is that Mingyu no longer seems to have gym buddies. Turns out that tonight, instead of their usual Monday workout, Seungcheol and Wonwoo are at a double date business meeting. 

Which leads to factor number two. Wonwoo is a notorious camboy, and Seungcheol’s girlfriend is as well, in fact, Seungcheol’s girlfriend is BabyDoll246, who, up until recently, Mingyu used to watch religiously every time he needed to get his rocks off. 

Mingyu doesn’t even know what this whole ‘buisness meeting’ thing is about- Seungcheol is probably doing a presentation for everyone about numbers and aesthetics and how to make a ‘brand,’ because that’s what Seungcheol does. Even though the whole scenario sounds boring, for some reason, Mingyu wishes he was invited.

So things are a little complicated.

Mingyu feels jealous, and left out- and horny… there’s only so much distraction free weights can provide, so in order to distract himself, Mingyu begins to look at the people around him. 

Since the gym is on university property, there are a lot of cute girls his age. Most are scantily clad in booty shorts and sports bras, and Mingyu thanks god for feminism and the right to bare skin.

Then his eyes find you. 

You’re a frequent gym goer, like him, and Mingyu would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to you. 

You’re in one of those oversized tshirt and booty short combos that drive Mingyu wild- after all, what does your body look like under the fabric? 

He’s got a pretty good imagination, and Mingyu finds himself practically drooling as he watches you do some sets on a shoulder machine.

When you’re done, you stand up, reaching for your water. You turn to look at the gym as you drink, and your eyes meet.

Mingyu is quick to avert his gaze, his skin flushing with embarrassment at having been caught staring.

In an effort to further distract himself, Mingyu moves to the lying barbell section, where he begins to put weights onto either end.

“Hey.” Your voice draws his attention, and Mingyu’s heart almost leaps out of his chest to find you standing right next to him.

“Hi.”

“Where are your friends?” you ask, taking another sip of your water.

“My friends?”

“Yeah, those two guys you’re always here with.”

So you’ve noticed him too. “Oh, uh, they’re on a double date tonight,” Mingyu says shyly.

You nod. “Looks like you need a spotter then.”

“I’ll be okay-”

“The girl I usually come with broke her wrist at volleyball last week, so I’ll need a spotter too,” you tell him. “Maybe we can help each other out?”

Mingyu swallows thickly. “Yeah, uh, okay.”

It feels awkward for him to lie down on the bench, adjusting his hands on the barbell while he looks up at you.

He wonders how well you’d actually be able to spot him if something was to go wrong, but he supposes that’s not the point. In reality, he’s going to be helping you while you’re doing your sets more than you’ll be helping him, but Mingyu doesn’t really mind.

He’s never dropped a barbell in his life, and he’s not about to drop it now with a gorgeous girl looking down at him.

“I’m y/n, by the way,” you say.

“Mingyu,” he responds.

“What’s your major?”

“Art, you?”

“Funny, you don’t look like an artist,” you laugh. 

Mingyu cracks a smile. “What do I look like?” he asks.

You shrug. “I don’t know, but not an artist.” Mingyu continues his set and after a moment you speak again. “I’m in nutrition.”

“That explains it,” Mingyu says under his breath.

“Explains what?”

That you’re sexy as fuck.

“Uh, that, well, you know, you work out?” Mingyu stumbles over his words. “I mean, if you’re into nutrition, it makes sense you’re into the gym too.”

“I guess.”

Mingyu can tell from your smirk that you can probably guess his real reasoning, and he can feel his palms getting sweaty- suddenly, holding onto the barbell isn’t as easy as it usually is.

Mingyu realizes he may have overestimated his ability to keep things cool while you’re watching over him, and he pauses his set.

“You good?” you ask.

“Yeah, just uh, need water.” 

One: 

It’s been a couple of days since you met Mingyu at the gym, and you’re surprised to see him during a trip to the pool.

Once again, the beautiful man is alone, and you wait for him to finish swimming a lap so you can talk to him.

“Hey, stranger,” you grin. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You watch the way he swallows thickly, and you can practically see him fighting the urge to look at your swimsuit.

It’s nothing flashy, after all, you’re here to work out, not to show off. But you know Mingyu’s probably wondering what you look like under your baggy gym shirts, after all, he’s a man, so it’s not like he’s hard to predict.

“Hey,” Mingyu says. “Uh, how have you been?”

You shrug. “Been okay. Do you come to the pool often?” 

“Sometimes, if my muscles are sore. You?”

“My kinesiology buddy suggested I implement swimming into my routine, a similar thought pattern to you, better for the muscles and the body.”

You see Mingyu’s attitude shift. “I guess a kinesiology buddy would know a lot about that.”

It takes you a moment, but you realize that Mingyu must think your ‘buddy’ is a man, and that maybe you’re taken or on the precipice of a relationship.

God, Mingyu is so easy to read.

“She’s pretty smart,” you note, “my kinesiology buddy.”

Again, an entire emotional shift in Mingyu, and it would almost be laughable if it weren’t so cute.

This man has a schoolboy crush on you, that much is obvious. 

“So… where are your friends?” you ask.

“They’re with their girlfriends,” Mingyu sighs, and you get the sense that he’s not too happy about his workout buddies being more loved up than juiced up.

“Maybe we should just be workout buddies,” you suggest.

Mingyu’s eyes light up. “Yeah?”

You shrug. “Why not? We have similar work out schedules already, it wouldn’t be that difficult to sync them.”

“I’d actually love that,” Mingyu admits, and you love how pretty and glowy he looks.

You have an ulterior motive with Mingyu, but you’d bet your right arm he has one too. Most of the guys you’ve met who are into you don’t bother with getting to know you, or having similar interests. Men in this day and age have - for the most part - lost their ability to engage in the nuances of wooing, but there’s something about this cute, beefy art major that tells you he might just have what it takes to build something meaningful with you.

It’s not that you’re necessarily looking for a relationship, but you wouldn’t say no to one either.

Overall, you just want a connection with a man that’s not solely built on him pressing you for a one night stand, and as horny as Mingyu clearly is, there’s a shyness to him too, a shyness that draws you in. 

Two:

Mingyu’s at it again. He’s found a new camgirl to jerk over, but even as he watches the pretty brunette stroke her pussy, his mind keeps wandering to you.

You’ve been workout buddies for two weeks now, and God, there are so many instances and interactions that have gone straight into Mingyu’s spank bank.

There’s something about the way you look when you’re sweating- fuck, Mingyu could just lick it up if that wasn’t such a taboo thing to admit.

Mingyu can’t help himself, he puts his computer to the side, closing his eyes and imagining that you’re the one whimpering and moaning. 

Mingyu is man enough to admit that he’s a bit of a pervert. He knows it, he accepts it- he’s ashamed of it sure, but in that shame is something that only arouses him further. A certain type of obsession with self-degradation. He’s a bad boy, and being sinful only makes him harder as he strokes his cock.

He imagines you in the pool with water glistening on your skin- and that image turns into you in the gym doing dumbbells, sweat on your brow.

Mingyu groans, pumping himself harder. He can feel the tension building in his balls, the tingling sensation that’s beginning to brew.

He thinks about the way you encourage him to do more sets, the way he teases you that you’re his ‘drill sargent’ and you’ll sometimes aquiesce by telling him to drop and give you twenty-

Fuck, why are you so sexy?

Why does he want you to tell him what to do all the time?

He imagines what it would sound like if you told him to be a good boy and cum for you- and just like that, he pops.

Mingyu cums hard, a groan escaping him as he fist fucks himself through it, his hips shaking, sweat on his brow-

Mingyu can’t even bring himself to care that he’s cum all over his own chest, and as he finishes, he lets out a sigh, his hands falling to the bed next to him.

He’s so into you, and it’s not just your body. You’re an interesting person, and you’d sensed he needed a gym partner. Your presence has made the lack of Wonwoo and Seungcheol feel better, and that’s not something Mingyu will undervalue.

The only problem is… Mingyu’s one of the horniest men he knows, and he’s aware that his extreme sex drive may just be a problem. 

Three:

In the three weeks you’ve been working out with Mingyu, you’ve had enough situational awareness to see how other women in the gym stare at him.

And it’s not like you can blame the other girls, after all, you also used to look at him when he wasn’t going to notice.

Mingyu is hard not to look at, he’s just so big and pretty, and his muscles bulge like nothing else when he’s doing sets. 

The two of you are going hard today, and you’ve come to an agreement that for every ten sets you complete, Mingyu gets to ask you a question, and vice versa.

He’s asked you some regular run of the mill things, like your favourite movie, what inspired you to do the degree you’re working on- but then, out of knowhere, Mingyu asks, “Why are you single?”

Mingyu must notice the way you falter, your grip adjusting on the machine, and he’s quick to try to remedy it.

“I just mean, you’re pretty, and nice, and all that sort of stuff, so, I’m just confused,” he says.

“Honestly?” You let out a sigh, trying to tailor your response to intrigue the pretty man. “I have a pretty big drive for physical sensation, if that makes sense. It’s why I gym a lot, and it can be intimidating for guys. Also, I’m not into the whole one-night stand thing, and that seems to be all men want these days.”

“Wait, you’re saying, you’re uh… your sex drive is too big for most guys to handle?” Mingyu chokes.

“I’m just a girl with needs who doesn’t put out unless we’re actually dating,” you shrug.

Hook, line, and sinker.

You can see Mingyu getting hard through his gym shorts, and he coughs awkwardly.

“Uh, let’s switch,” he suggests, and you almost want to laugh.

You acquiesce, and in his newly seated position, Mingyu is able to hide his boner from you, but you’ve already seen it, and confidence is now surging through you.

Mingyu does his first ten reps, and you don’t bother to start with easy questions.

“Why are you single?” 

You watch the way Mingyu swallows thickly.

“I uh.. Well, I’ve kind of got, sort of, um, weird tastes.” 

“Like what?” you ask, and to your annoyance, Mingyu makes you wait for another full set before answering. 

“I guess it’s the sort of thing you kind of have to see for yourself, I don’t know how to explain it.”

“But we’re talking about weird tastes in bed, right?”

Mingyu nods, his ears turning red.

“Look, I just told you I don’t fuck around unless it’s going in the direction of something more than fuck buddies or one night stands,” you tell him. “So, I’d love to see these ‘weird tastes,’ but only if you’re actually interested in something with me.”

It’s been three weeks of getting to know each other, if Mingyu’s not sure what he wants yet, then that’s on him. You’re being direct, and you’re not going to feel bad about that.

“I’m interested,” Mingyu confirms quickly.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Tomorrow is usually your rest day, and you’ve never really asked what Mingyu gets up to when you’re not at the gym or pool.

“Tomorow would be great,” he confirms.

“Then it’s a date,” you conclude. “Tomorrow you can show me these weird tastes that apparently make it hard for you to find a woman.”

“And maybe you can show me about this whole ‘drive for physical sensation’ thing you have.”

God, your panties are wet just thinking about it.

Four:

It feels a little odd to have Mingyu in your one bedroom on campus apartment. This is uncharted waters, and the usual social map that you use at places like gym and pool is no longer here to guide you.

The two of you know what you’re here to do, but it’s clear you’re both shy about it as you go to sit on your bed.

Being shy isn’t usually something you experience, but you also haven’t had a legitimate dating prospect in a while, especially not one as handsome as Mingyu, so you’re being careful not to mess anything up. 

You find yourself lying next to Mingyu, both of you looking up at your ceiling.

“So… tell me about your weird tastes?” you suggest.

He swallows thickly. “What if you tell me some of yours first?”

You laugh. He’s even more shy than you are. “I guess, manhandling is fun. Feeling small and being able to be thrown around is hot.”

Mingyu nods. “I like that you’re smaller than me too. But… I also kind of like that, when we’re at the gym, you get bossy with me.”

This is an interesting development, and you sit up, resting your elbow against the pillow so you can look at Mingyu while you brace your head with your palm. “So you’re not very dominant?”

“Not really,” Mingyu says shyly. 

“More into the whole ‘good boy’ thing.”

You note the way Mingyu reacts, his gaze meeting yours, his breath catching. “Yeah.”

“What else?” you prompt. “There has to be something else for people to consider your tastes ‘weird.’” He stays quiet and you lean forward, letting your lips ghost past his ear. “Be a good boy and tell me.”

Mingyu swallows thickly, and you note the way he’s begun to fidget with his fingers where his hands are resting on his chest.

“I guess… I’m really into porn? Which is horrible, I know it’s bad for your brain and stuff, but I really just can’t help myself. There’s this word for it, where you like to watch people-”

“Voyeurism.”

“Yeah, voyeurism,” Mingyu nods. “I don’t know, it’s like… watching other people, and, you know, touching myself while I watch-”

“Lots of people like porn,” you assure him.

“Yeah, but, I watch it a lot.” 

He’s looking at you now with an expression you’ve never seen on Mingyu’s face. It’s as if he’s waiting for something, and after a moment, you realize what it might be.

“You like the way it makes you feel,” you note, “how it makes you feel dirty, but you’re also eager to redeem yourself by being a good boy.”

“Exactly. I think it’s also because I’ve been single for a while, I mean, if I’m in a relationship with someone, I don’t think I’ll need to watch as much.” 

It’s definitely an interesting kink.

Sinning by watching porn, then proving yourself to be a good boy by doing sexual favours- or at least, that’s what you assume he means.

Mingyu is really just a puppy boy, and there’s something so adorable and endearing about this large, beautiful man, admitting these things to you.

Well, he’s told you he likes when you take control, so you muster up your confidence to take the reins.

“A lot of people in this university make sex videos,” you note. “If you do well tonight, if things go well between us, maybe one day we can make our own videos.”

Mingyu makes a choked sound, and you note the way his cock is starting to rise in his sweatpants. “Really?”

“Maybe, if you do well,” you repeat. “Why don’t…” you trail your finger across his cheek, “you show me what you’ve learned from all these educational videos you’ve watched?” 

Mingyu swallows thickly, and then he sits up a little. “Can I kiss you?”

“You can do anything you want.”

Mingyu is slow about it even though he now has permission. His hand reaches out to cup your cheek, and he leans forward, eyes double checking you’re actually okay.

Even though you’d both known you were meeting up to fuck, he’s still being careful about it, and that makes you like him even more. A man who respects boundaries? Husband material for sure.

You appreciate that he’s testing the waters, but you’re eager to dive right in, so you make the final move.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his eagerly.

Mingyu groans, cupping your face to kiss you back.

He tastes good, and he’s not too forceful with his tongue, which gently strokes your lip to ask for entrance.

As you kiss, he shifts, slowly moving so he can be on top of you. Your legs open for him, and he slots against you.

You can feel how hard he is already, and when you tangle your fingers in his hair, he moans louder against you, rutting gently for stimulation.

Mingyu’s lips move to your throat, and he also teases your ear a little, which sends a shiver through you.

One of his hands slips under your shirt, and he grabs your boob over your bra, massaging you tentively.

“Take it off,” you tell him, arching your back in an effort to do it yourself.

Between the two of you, you’re able to remove your shirt, and you also remove your bra, making yourself bare to Mingyu from the waist up.

“You’re so pretty,” he muses, sitting up and looking down at you. Both of his hands find your breasts, and he begins to massage you. “Do you have any oil or anything?”

In preparation for this, you’d put a few sexy items in your bedside table, so it’s easy enough to reach for the coconut oil you have hidden there.

Mingyu drips some oil onto his hands, and then he begins to massage your breasts again.

The silky sensation of the oil makes you moan, and you relax against the bed, closing your eyes to enjoy it all.

You love a man who takes his time to worship you, and no one has massaged your chest in a very long time.

His thumbs brush over your nipples and you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

When you look up at Mingyu, you find his gaze fixed to your chest, as if he’s bewitched by the prettiest sight he’s ever seen.

You love how big his hands are, how soft and warm- 

Even so, you’re eager for more.

You haven’t had sex in a while, and your core is almost starting to hurt with anticipation.

This must be what blue balls feels like- or at least, the female equivalent, and you find yourself wrapping a hand around Mingyu’s wrist to make him stop.

“I know what your hands do,” you tell him, “but what about your mouth?”

You’re almost a little shocked at the confidence you seem to have gained, but being confident with Mingyu just comes naturally.

You know he’s man enough to take commands from a woman, in fact, he enjoys doing what he’s told, and something about that is so immensely sexy.

Mingyu shifts down the bed, and he hooks his fingers in your sweatpants, looking up at you for permission.

“Go ahead,” you nod.

The large, beefy man slowly slides your pants down your legs, and then he situates himself between your thighs. He starts by massaging your muscles, pressing kisses along your skin as he slowly works up to where you need him most.

You can feel his breath through your panties, and you shift against the bed, core throbbing already.

Then, Mingyu kisses you through the fabric, and it’s such an interesting sensation.

He begins to lick, pushing his tongue at your panties.

“Just take them off,” you groan.

Mingyu is quick to do as he’s told, and you lift your legs to make the process easier, leaving you completely bare for him.

Upon returning to his spot between your legs, Mingyu begins kissing your thighs again, and this time, as he slowly makes his way up to your pussy, you know there’s nothing standing in the way of him pleasuring you.

He kisses your clit, and the sensation makes you twitch.

Your hands snake down to grab at his hair, and he looks up at you. 

Something in his eyes tells you he really enjoys you having a hold on him like this.

“Show me what your mouth can do,” you repeat, body tense with anticipation. 

Mingyu wastes no time now, he dives in, and this time, he holds nothing back.

His tongue pushes into you, hot, puffy lips making full contact on your core as he licks and eats and slurps.

He’s a messy eater, and you actually kind of love it.

You love how lost he gets in it, how his eyes close, his hands gripping your thighs on either side of his head as he groans against your pussy.

Then you realize the rest of his body is moving too, his hips are wiggling, as if he’s looking for stimulus while he eats you out.

Fuck, he’s so hot- grinding against the bed, so turned on from giving you oral that he can’t even help himself.

“Just like that,” you tell him, throwing your head back and closing your eyes to focus on the sensation.

You’d been so wet and needy just from him massaging your breasts, and now that he’s eating you out- well, you know you’re not going to last long.

Some men don’t know what to do with a woman’s body, but Mingyu isn’t one of those men.

It looks like he has actually learned a thing or two from watching copious amounts of porn, which is kind of shocking if you’re being honest with yourself.

Mingyu shifts, and then a finger is pushing into your wet heat, his mouth now giving its full attention to your sensitive clit.

He pumps his digit in and out, and you can feel how wet and slick you are by the ease in which he fingers you.

One becomes two, and he adjusts his hand, his digits crooking up toward your g-spot.

You’re practically squelching now, and moans are escaping you without barriers. You want Mingyu to know how good he’s making you feel, and there’s no use in restricting yourself.

You begin to move, wiggling your hips so you can help him pleasure you, and your motions make Mingyu groan. He sucks your clit even harder, his hot tongue flicking the sensitive bud with more force as he fingers you.

“I’m close,” you tell him. 

Mingyu only moans in response, his motions getting faster as he worships your core.

You close your eyes, focusing entirely on the ecstasy he’s providing you.

Your muscles are getting tighter, your body preparing yourself for the orgasm that hits mere moments later.

You let out a gasp, your core clamping down on Mingyu’s fingers as pleasure erupts through you. It hits you in waves, making you moan and whimper at each contraction of your pussy around Mingyu’s fingers.

Your clit is ultra sensitive, but fuck, it feels so good-

Mingyu continues to eat you out as you cum, and it almost boarders on being too good- but you’re not about to push him away for being too good. 

Your hips are still wiggling, your body unconsciously wanting your orgasm prolonged- you’re a glutton for punishment and pleasure in that way, but you know Mingyu doesn’t mind.

Finally, you begin to push at Mingyu’s head, and he pulls away, looking up at you.

“Do you want another?” he asks innocently.

You laugh. “Want you inside me.”

“I am inside you,” he smiles, his fingers pushing in and out of you again, making an obscene squelching sound that has your skin heating with embarrassment.

“You know what I mean,” you tut.

Mingyu takes his digits out of you, plopping them in his mouth to suck clean while he groans. When he’s done cleaning himself off, he sits up. “So uh… condoms?”

“I’m on birth control, are you clean?”

“I’m clean,” he nods.

“Then fuck me.”

Mingyu starts by taking his shirt off, and you marvel at his toned muscles. This man works out at least four days of the week, and it shows.

He’s so sexy, you’re pretty sure you’re drooling, and you swallow thickly.

“Suck a pretty puppy boy,” you whisper.

“Puppy boy?”

“Yeah, you’re a puppy boy,” you insist.

He looks at you for a moment, and then you note the way his shoulders relax. “I like that.”

“Here,” you sit up. “Lie down.”

Mingyu does what he’s told, like any good puppy boy would, and you take control. 

“Lift your hips,” you instruct next, and when he follows through, you tear his sweats and his underwear off with one rough tug.

The biggest cock you’ve ever seen slaps up against his stomach, and your jaw drops.

“Holy shit.”

Mingyu flushes a pretty shade of pink. Leave it to him to be shy about how big his dick is as opposed to turning into a cocky piece of shit like most men would.

You can’t help but wrap your hand around him, bringing your mouth to his tip to suck on it.

Mingyu groans immediately, grabbing at your bed sheets as you begin to suck him off.

It helps that you’re practically drooling, but even so, he’s so large that you really can’t take a lot of him.

After a minute, you sit up. “Pass me the oil.”

He does as he’s told like the good puppy boy he is, and you coat your hand in the slick.

When you return to blowing him, you begin to pump what you can’t reach with your mouth, twisting and squeezing and teasing.

Mingyu groans louder, and you give the act of pleasuring him your all, as he’d just given you.

When a man treats you well, it’s only right that you treat him well in return, and something tells you that if things with Mingyu continue, there are going to be a lot of moments like this one.

You love sucking on his mushroom tip, teasing him endlessly as he groans and shifts below you.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” Mingyu tells you.

You hum happily around him, and he moans even louder.

Then, you pull your mouth off of him, continuing your motions with your hand. “Part of me wants to just tease you like this for hours.”

“And the other part?” he asks.

“Wants to ride you.”

He swallows thickly. “Can… can you ride me, please?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

You sit up fully, straddling him. But you don’t immediately put him inside of you, instead, you lean forward to kiss him, grinding down against his oil slicked cock so you can lubricate yourself.

You know this isn’t going to be easy getting him inside of you, after all, his cock is massive, but teasing both of you like this will make the process smoother.

Mingyu kisses you eagerly, grabbing the back of your neck with one hand and your hip with the other. He applies pressure to help you wiggle against him, and your oiled breasts make the whole situation extra nice and slippery.

Soon, Mingyu’s hips begin to twitch, and you know you’ve teased him long enough.

You reach between your bodies, grabbing the base of his cock so you can line him up with your core.

You’re gentle with yourself as you sink onto him, taking just the tip at first to get used to the stretch.

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, panting already.

“Be patient for me,” you tell him, taking another inch.

Mingyu decides to distract himself by grabbing your breasts, and he begins massaging you again, making you groan as you do your best to take more and more of him.

He toys with your nipples and a shiver of pleasure runs through you.

Another inch.

It’s good to be on top of him for your first time. You’re sure Mingyu would have been gentle if he was on top, but you’re happy to have full control of the penetration speed. Your core is twitching tightly around the massive intrusion, but you’re not someone who gives up. You take inch after inch until you’re finally fully seated on top of Mingyu.

You both groan desperately from the sensation, and you begin to swivel your hips.

“So deep,” you whimper.

“So tight,” he echoes back.

You lean over him again, pressing your lips to his so you can bounce up and down. Mingyu’s hands find your hips and he kisses you back desperately.

God, he feels absolutely unreal.

You pride yourself on being someone with a lot of stamina in bed, so you’re prepared to ride him until your thighs are burning- but then Mingyu begins to thrust up to meet you, and suddenly he’s hitting even deeper.

You let out a deep moan, staying still so he can fuck up into you.

And that’s when you decide you want to know what doggy with Mingyu feels like.

“Shit, okay, fuck,” you swallow thickly. “Want you to fuck me from behind.”

“Okay,” he pants.

You pull off of him, adjusting on the bed while he sits up to get onto his knees.

Your ass is in the air, but your lower body is close to the bed, back arched.

Mingyu brings his cock to your wet hole, and he slowly pushes in. Your core is absolutely soaked, and it’s easier for him to enter you now than the first time.

Soon, his front is flush to your back, and he grabs your hips.

“Okay, fuck me,” you tell him.

Mingyu doesn’t waste any time, he begins to rut into you. His grip is tight on your skin, and he pulls you back to meet each thrust.

He’s so deep that you’re seeing stars. Sounds are leaving your mouth that you’ve never heard come from you before.

Each thrust is magic, filling you unlike anything else ever has.

You’d mentioned you like manhandling, and this is what you were talking about.

You can feel Mingyu’s power in the way that he’s pulling you back and forth like a rag doll. There’s something so sexy about allowing a man the chance to use you, about being the one in control even while he decimates your pussy.

You can feel your orgasm begining to bubble up inside of you again, and you know from the sounds Mingyu’s making that he’s probably close to- after all, you’ve got to cum once, but so far, all of this has been foreplay for Mingyu.

“I’m getting close,” you whimper.

“Me too,” Mingyu admits. “Lay flat for me.”

It takes a moment to resposition, but now you’re on your stomach. Mingyu’s still fucking you, but now he’s laid over your back. His breath is hot against your throat and you turn your head so Mingyu can press his lips to yours.

He’s straddling your closed legs, but your back is still slightly arched so he can enter you easily.

This angle has him hitting spots you’ve never had touched, and it feels like heaven.

Your bodies are fully pressed together, there’s no distance like in doggy, and you love that this will be the position you both come in.

It’s close, but your back is still to him, so it’s not as vanilla and domestic as something like missionary.

Mingyu’s groaning more and more, and you echo his sounds with whimpers of your own.

“Shit,” Mingyu cusses. “I want to cum with you.”

“Then cum for me, I’m so close,” you whimper. 

“Fuck,” he groans again, fucking you even harder.

The whole bed is rocking, but that only turns you on more as you get closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m almost there,” you whimper, body tensing on the verge of ecstasy.

“Me too, me too,” he moans.

He presses his lips to yours and that sends you over the edge.

Your core clamps down hard on his cock and Mingyu moans desperately, his cock twitching inside of you before he explodes.

The orgasm is all-consuming, and every sensation is Mingyu.

He does his best to fuck you through it, but you know that he’s overwhelmed like you are.

No orgasm has ever felt this good, and your core continues to milk Mingyu, filling you up unlike anything else.

“Shit, shit-” he groans, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against your shoulder, panting desperately as you both try to come down from your highs.

He lays on top of you like this for a while as you both recollect yourselves, and then, he lets out a sigh.

“Give me like, five minutes, and some time to massage you again, and I’ll be able to do round two.”

He’s as insatiable as you are. Sure, he’s a little weird, but who isn’t. You’re kind of weird too, but at least your weirds seem to work together, and you kind of love it. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! If you're interested in Wonwoo's chapter about No Face, find it here, and Seungcheol's chapter is here.

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. Mingyu had told you about some ammature porn videos where there’s some ‘sir pussy licker’ or something, and how a bunch of his content is just eating out his girlfriend and making her squirt- so of course, Mingyu wants that to be a major part of the content you make.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, sex tape, multiple reader orgasms, oral, pussy eating, blow job, hand job, overstim, squirting, breast worship, body worship kink, dirty talk, praise, mentions of self inflicted edging, mentions of cock rings and other things, big dick Mingyu agenda, etc…   I petnames. (his) Puppy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

You’ve been with Mingyu for about six months now, and true to your word when you’d started seeing each other, the two of you have made a few sex tapes for your eyes only.

Mingyu’s absolutely obsessed with you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

The two of you are lying in bed after filming a new thing for the two of you, and Mingyu releases a breath. “Maybe… maybe we should start actually doing the whole cam thing,” he suggests.

“Yeah?”

“You know, make money.” 

“How much do you think we could make?” you ask, not fully opposed to the idea.

“I have two friends who do the whole solo cam show thing,” Mingyu admits. “They both bring in a lot of money, but they also do solo stuff. If we made stuff together, our target audience could be bigger.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.7k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@meowniee - @learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @sourkimchi

I'm also taggling those who I thought might like this :)

@bobathi - @amazinggraxia - @bluempire425-blog -

@twililty - @cheolaholic - @babieculture

@meowniee - @ridenotpark - @ollieollieoctopus

@axo-l0tl - @blspphr3 - @roseandpeaches

[luludeluluramblings]

The Tape... Part Two

Reader and Conner are in the cave dealing with the fallout of their Sex tape getting leaked... Reader has a plan...

Part One

Warning: Fem!Reader, NSFW themes, no actual smut, pure crack nonsense, fake Twitter post

The silence was loud. Very very fucking loud. And, so incredibly awkward. Honestly, you were surprised that this hadn't happened before. Gotham media literally had poll last week on who the hottest of the Wayne Family Orphans was. (You had placed fourth, but it's okay. You're pretty sure your ranking just shot up to first now.)

It was a PR miracle that there hadn't been a sex tape, nude, or dick pic leak before this. There had been swimsuit pics. And, someone had managed to get a picture of Dick in grey sweatpants. Lot's of people had been thirsting in the comments, talking about how they'd like to give him a son. Some of them were even women too. Internet people were feral.

Although, you try to shake that thought from your head because certainly you were in trouble.

Sitting in the Batcave with everyone - and you do mean everyone - giving you and Conner disapproving looks. The only reason Conner wasn't tied up and stuffed with kryptonite like a holiday bird was because Clark had joined the family. And, Jon was holding back Damian.

"In my defense, I did try to get it out of the carpet. But, I didn't want that to ping that in my search history. I know Tim checks that on the regular." You started, breaking the silence after what felt like hours of awkwardness. It had been twenty minutes. Still too long, but not that long. You could here a outraged 'Hey' from Tim and Alfred's exasperated sigh. You might actually make him retire at this rate.

"Is that really all you have to say on this matter?" Bruce is already using the Batman voice. And, still in his Batman gear. Not good. Wasn't he in a Justice League meeting earlier? Oh, well.

"I mean, do you want me to say anything else?" You're question causes multiple scoffs, guffaws, and Conner to choke on a laugh.

Such a shame he couldn't get to you fast enough. It was your fault really. You'd both gotten distracted in discussing where would be the best place to flee to. It had spiraled into an argument and then he had to fuck the brat out of you… So yeah… Didn't escape in time. Oopsie.

"How about an apology?" Jason had the audacity to say. As if he didn't literally murder people once upon a time.

You just shrugged. Not really feeling sorry about the situation. "Sorry for traumatizing the internet."

The grin Conner gives you is filled with glee, but he quickly hides it. There's only so much leeway he can get from Clark's presence before a little green crystal gets shoved into a newly made orifice on his person.

"I am… disappointed in you." Bruce barely manages to say through gritted teeth. And, it causes you to tear up.

"Are you saying that I'm officially the family disappointment?" There was way too much glee in your voice and a series of groans leave the rest of the family.

You had probably just earned the most coveted title in this family held together by a butler, costumes, fancy toys and BatBurger runs.

Bruce finds himself pinching the bridge of his nose when he realizes what he's done. This is the real reason he doesn't tell any of his children when he disapproves of something. He learned this with all his kids. He had genuinely thought he'd gotten lucky when you turned out normal.

He was wrong.

"Do you understand what you've done. You've just put a massive target on your back. Anyone that wants to get to Superboy will come after you now." He jumps into lecture mode instead. Trying to give the logical reason for being upset with this.

Though, in reality he was livid that, not only did Conner have sex with you, he had to do it in the damn parlor. The one they usually had family meetings in. He wasn't going to be able to sit in there anymore. Mentally, he made note to have the room renovated. And, to replace the carpet.

"Look I have an idea on how to fix that."

"Oh, and what's that?" Stephanie pipes up, trying not to grin. She knew you had something planned. And, she couldn't wait.

Almost everyone else tensed. Because they knew your plans could go to shit quick or work in the most convoluted bullshit ways imaginable. It was a gift, really.

"Give me like three minutes." You mutter before pulling out your phone and opening up your Twitter/X app. Typing out a quick sentence and sending it off.

There's a ping on the Bat Computer and Barbara pulls up the newest tweet from your account for everyone to see.

A/N: I didn't really plan on continuing this, but I thought why the heck not. Kinda short, bunch o' nonsense.

A/N: Forgive me if I seem absent, I got low energy right now and I'm stressed. I broke a tooth and I hate going to the dentist. But, I went, and I need surgery to fix it... Friggin AO3 curse hitting me and I ain't even posting on there yet.

[casssmalefantasy]

LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

PAIGE BUECKERS X READER

| parings: paige bueckers x reader!

| synopsis: a physical game leaves you bruised and furious, and paige is the only one who can calm you down. back at the hotel, the tension that’s been simmering between you all season finally boils over.

| warnings: smut, fingering, oral f!receiving, praise kink, dominant!paige, tension, possessiveness, cursing, mentions of injury, game violence, and emotional intimacy,

| word count: 2.7k

| author’s note: yall wanted this one so here you go, also i wrote this like two months ago 😭.

──────────────────────

it’s been chippy all game.

it’s what you expect going against texas.

physical team, good shooters, shit refs. it’s the kind of combination that makes you want to put your fist through a locker.

they're ranked, scrappy and come to play.

and for some reason, their starting guard has had it out for you since tip-off.

the first couple plays, you let it slide. a shoulder here, a shove there. nothing new, but by the time you’re five minutes into the third quarter with a sore hip and a stinger in your arm, it’s personal.

still, you try to keep your head down. geno’s always on your ass about that, don’t lose your cool. don’t let them bait you.

but it’s hard. it’s so hard.

and when she bodies you again on a cut, this time full-on sending you to the floor, elbow to your ribs—you snap.

you’re on your feet before your ass even registers the hardwood.

"you got a fucking problem?" you bark, chest heaving.

she smirks like she’s been waiting for this moment all game.

"maybe i just don’t like how you play."

"yeah? how about i show you how i fight."

she steps forward, and you're stepping too, ready to shove her right back into the damn bleachers—

but arms are on you. pulling you back. not the ref, not your teammates—

"yo," a voice says low, right in your ear. “hey. chill. breathe.”

you glance back. it’s paige.

both arms wrapped tight around you from behind, holding you in place. her hands flat on your stomach, grounding you.

"she’s not worth it," she murmurs. "eyes on me. breathe, baby."

you do. barely.

the ref whistles again. offsetting techs. geno is pissed.

“you, out," he snaps, pointing to the bench. "cool off. paige you too. sub."

you don’t argue. not because you’re okay with it, but because paige is still holding your hand as she pulls you toward the bench with her.

"you good?" she whispers once you sit, leaning in close, hand covering her mouth like she’s telling you top-secret plays.

"i’m fine." your voice is clipped.

"don’t lie to me," she says. her gaze is soft, but locked on you like she can see everything you're trying not to show.

“they were calling everything until that," you mutter. "but when i get decked, it’s nothing until i stand up for myself?"

"i know," she says. “refs have been garbage since the jump, but don’t let it get in your head. you were cooking before that shit.”

you’re icing your arm. paige glances down at it.

“does it hurt bad?”

“i said i’m fine.”

she hums, unconvinced.

you both sit in silence. the energy between you is thick—electric, even in stillness. you look over at the same time. hold eye contact. her blue eyes are intense, like she’s still thinking about pulling you off that girl.

you look away first.

—

paige checks back in with three to play. you stay on the bench a little longer.

but you don’t miss it.

that girl—the same one who shoved you, says something as paige runs past her. paige doesn’t say much back. just a short sentence. firm. her jaw clenched.

you don’t know what she said, but whatever it was, it shut the girl up real fast.

and paige? she scores eight points straight after that.

—

uconn wins.

the bus ride back to the hotel is chaos. everyone’s talking shit, celebrating, arguing about calls.

but you’re quiet. sore. still buzzing from the adrenaline.

you almost don’t notice paige at your side until she nudges your arm gently.

"ice said she’d swap rooms tonight."

you blink at her.

"you wanna stay with me?"

"i want to check on you."

you nod. she doesn’t say anything else. she just grabs your bag for you and waits.

—

it’s quiet in the room, just the soft hum of the air conditioning and whatever random netflix show you landed on. something to fill the space.

you’re curled up with an ice pack again. paige is next to you, legs stretched out, close enough to touch, but not quite.

you haven’t said much since you got back. you’re still stuck in your head, still replaying the game, the fall, the look on her face when she held you back.

“hey," she says suddenly. “how’re you feeling?”

you glance over. her hair’s pulled into a loose bun. she’s still in her uconn hoodie.

"better," you say.

"you sure?"

"yeah."

she hums again like she still doesn’t believe you.

“you were good tonight,” she says after a second. “even when you were pissed. it was… kinda hot.”

you blink. then raise an eyebrow.

"hot?"

“what, i can’t say that?"

you glance at the tv, then back at her. "thought we weren’t talking about that shit anymore."

she shrugs. "maybe i changed my mind."

you smirk. “so now you think me nearly getting into a fight is sexy?"

"no," she says. “i think you standing your ground, playing through all that contact, being so in it, that was hot.”

you look at her. her gaze is locked on yours.

"you looked good out there," she adds, voice lower now. "like really good."

your breath catches.

"you looked good too."

she shifts a little closer. her knee brushes yours.

"yeah?"

"yeah."

you don’t know who moves first. maybe both of you.

but suddenly her mouth is on yours, and you’re kissing like you’ve wanted to for months. no hesitation. no pulling back.

it’s hungry. messy. real.

her hands slide up your thighs, under your hoodie, fingers splaying across your waist like she’s staking her claim.

"let me take care of you," she murmurs against your lips.

you nod. she pushes you back onto the bed, gentle but sure.

her mouth moves down your neck, sucking a mark just above your collarbone.

"still sore?" she asks, pulling your shorts down.

"a little."

"tell me if anything hurts."

you nod again, breath catching as her fingers trail over your inner thigh.

then her mouth is on your pussy.

slow at first, letting you feel every flick of her tongue, every kiss she places on sensitive skin.

you arch into her. she grips your hips, holding you steady.

"fuck, paige…"

"you sound so pretty when you say my name like that."

you’re writhing now, hand tangled in her hair.

"more," you beg.

she groans softly. "you want more?"

"please p."

she slides two fingers in, while her mouth keeps working.

you cum fast, body shaking, hips bucking up into her face.

she doesn’t stop until you’re whining from the sensitivity, pulling her up to kiss you again.

"jesus christ," you mumble, breathless.

"been wanting to do that since summer," she says, grinning.

you laugh, still catching your breath.

"what now?" you ask.

she leans in, kissing your jaw.

"now we sleep," she says. “and tomorrow, we do it again, just maybe without the fight this time.”

you smile.

"we’ll see."

—

you think you’re done. you should be done.

but paige doesn’t move.

she’s still lying between your legs, head resting on your thigh, arm draped across your waist. she’s tracing slow, featherlight circles over your bare stomach, and her breath is warm against your skin.

you glance down at her.

"what’re you doing?"

"thinking."

"about what?"

"how good you taste."

your entire body twitches.

"paige."

"mm?" she looks up at you, all sweet and innocent, but there’s nothing innocent about the way her fingers trail lower again.

"you already—i thought we were sleeping."

"i lied."

before you can argue, her mouth is on you again, slower this time, deliberate.

"fuck—"

you grab the sheets, back arching.

she hums like she’s enjoying a second course.

"can’t help it," she murmurs against you. “you’re too good like this."

you whimper when her tongue flicks a spot that makes you see white.

"shit, paige. it’s too much, i just—"

"no, you can take it."

her voice is soft, but firm.

"come on, baby. gimme one more."

you don’t know how she’s got you this wrecked this fast.

maybe it’s because you’ve been holding this in since summer. maybe it’s because she knows exactly what she’s doing. maybe it’s because she keeps talking to you like that.

“you’re shaking,” she says, dragging a finger through your wetness. “look at you, all fucked out already.”

you moan. it’s embarrassing how close you are again.

"i can’t—"

"yes, you can," she whispers, slipping her fingers back in, slow and deep. “be good for me.”

you cry out, thighs trembling.

"that’s it," she coos. "that’s my girl."

you cum again, this time harder, your whole body tightening under her as you moan her name like a prayer.

she doesn’t rush you. she kisses the inside of your thigh while you come down, rubbing soft circles over your hip, grounding you.

finally, when your breathing evens out, she crawls back up beside you, slipping an arm under your neck and pulling you close.

you don’t say anything for a minute. just lie there, curled against her, flushed and wrecked and warm.

"so," you mumble, voice scratchy, "you do this for all your teammates?"

“mmh yeah if they look like you.”

"you’re ridiculous."

"you’re welcome."

you pause.

"...i might not be able to walk at practice tomorrow."

"guess i’ll just have to carry you."

you look up at her.

"you’re insane."

"and you love it."

you try to glare at her. she kisses your forehead like she didn’t just make you see stars twice in a hotel bed.

"get some sleep," she whispers, already pulling the blanket over you both.

"only if you stay right here."

"wasn’t planning on going anywhere."

[potatodemon-beesensible]

I really like how closeted Kris looks here. Like… genuinely not feeling right being human and trying to present as a goat monster like the rest of their family. Reminds me of when I REALLY did not want to be masculine and went full femboy. Nowadays I’m still that, just more confident and assured in it. I still hate presenting as masc ^^”

Like… when I say “masculine/masc” I mean outright short buzzcut tanktop kinda masculine. Frankly… I’d be fine wearing a tank top since my hair’s all grown out and fluffy now. Because it’d feel more andro i and I love androgynous fashion. Like… I always love going for andro with feminine vibes y’know? Most of the time that’s how I’ll dress. But there was a time I wore pink every day and tried concealing myself as much as possible. Had a pink beanie to hide my short hair, it bothered me if I wasn’t wearing my fem shorts, I kept my legs shaved, all that. Well- any leg hair I have grates on me and I hate looking at it even now. But yea. Oh, also always wore a scarf because I was self conscious about my shoulders. They aren’t that broad and if anything people’ve called them skinny or average but my mind’s always conflated it. Nowadays I’m cool with my shoulders. I used to have a lot of dysphoria with them though.

Okay, back to the comic. First off, Kris is dressing as Ralsei. Ralsei being Kris’s ideal version of themself they had back in middle school is really cool to me. A part of them exploring their identity. Even now in the current events of Deltarune with Kris being a teenager they’re uncomfortable seeing other humans in that one library book… so I imagine anytime it’s pointed out that they’re human is highly uncomfortable for them. Which may be a part of why they’re so depressed by the time the game starts. Everyone in town didn’t seem to think much of them wearing the horn headband around everywhere as a kid… I think it was Kris trying to express that they REALLY weren’t comfortable being referred to as a human. And as everyone kept brushing it off without picking up on the signs Kris got more depressed, closeted, less genuine. In Chapters 3-4 we see that Kris has genuinely opened up and can share some REALLY cute and happy moments with Susie. And it’s cool to see them heal and progress in such small yet significant ways.

This also adds some cool layers to Kris being defensive about Ralsei looking different from Asriel. Because if the Ralsei fursona theory’s correct then Ralsei’s a lot more personal to Kris than we may have thought… of course Kris wouldn’t feel particularly close to Ralsei as meeting the middle school you’s ideal version of themselves would be pretty awkward. But Ralsei does seem to have grown on Kris in the more recent chapters… assumedly because of how much more genuine Ralsei’s being. Which makes Keis more comfortable around Ralsei since he’s not putting on a front all the time. Like… Ralsei doesn’t seem like the kind of person Kris’d hang out with one on one in the same sense as they’d do with Susie. But Kris does very genuinely care and basically shushes us if we try hurting Ralsei’s feelings. Which is… ungodly adorable. So damn sweet.

In other words, in Kris’s eyes Ralsei is one of the homies. That’s how I’d sum up their relationship. Also, I wouldn’t doubt it if part of the reason Ralsei could follow Kris and Susie from fountain to fountain without a Light World Object is because he’s Kris’s shadow basically. As long as Kris is in a Dark World, Ralsei belongs due to being a part of Kris’s identity at one point. And now Ralsei’s getting close to Susie and he means MORE than the purpose he was assigned. He’s his own person now with people he wants to live for and that terrifies him after so long not considering himself to be one. Which… hits for me. Very 1:1 to my own life. I love muh fluffy boi ;-;

Ralsei’s ona my trauma comfort characters now. He just is. Also just a normal comfort character but ye. Fluffy boy.

Also Kris getting euphoria from their nose being compared to Noelle’s is… so damn precious.

one step closer to fitting in

close ups:

[ghwostcult]

Coffee for a lifetime

Paring: Max Verstappen Summary: Max visits a small coffee van and now he has a new favorite place to go after a race weekend.

You had been working at Lee's coffee van for almost three years. It was safe to say that you enjoyed it, for the most part.

Some days there would be outlandishly rude customers who seemed to think that whatever you said was just a suggestion. The saying "the customer knows best" was a load of BS in your opinion.

Like today.

You were on the last leg of your six-hour shift, and it was quiet. If you knew anything from your time here, it was that quiet was never good.

You had been cleaning up the front in hopes of an early escape, not wanting to stay back much longer after your shift.

That’s when an older lady walked up. She seemed to be in her late 50s and came marching up to the window like she owned the place. Only she didn’t, and you had never seen her before.

After taking her order and serving her the coffee she asked for, she pushed it back to you half-empty, demanding a refund because it was “not made right.”

So here you were, in the last half hour of your shift, dealing with this woman while a line slowly formed behind her. When you say line, it was one guy, but still. Your point stood.

After another gruesome five minutes, the guy behind her seemed fed up too. He walked up to the counter with a sour smile directed at the woman and spoke.

“I apologise for interrupting, but I would enjoy my visit here a lot more if I didn’t have to hear your arguing over something you’re clearly and severely wrong about.”

His voice was strong. His point got across the moment he opened his mouth. His accent was thick. You couldn’t quite place where it was from, but it stood out to you and seemingly to the lady in front of you too.

She looked visibly shocked, as if the idea of someone talking back to her had never occurred to her. Her mouth hung open, and her cheeks immediately heated up in embarrassment. She hadn’t expected others to be annoyed by her complaining.

The woman quickly took back her coffee, which was definitely on the colder side, and ran back to her car, out of sight.

Little did you know, the reason she was so embarrassed wasn’t just because she got called out. It was because of who called her out. Max Verstappen, famous F1 racing driver known all around the world as Red Bull’s king.

You weren’t a fan of the sport, not finding much interest in rich men driving around and then complaining when something went wrong. All you knew was that there was a race this weekend.

Your boss, always eager to cash in on big events, decided to draw in racing fans by putting up some propaganda, as you called it, for one of the teams. You weren’t sure which one.

Max smiled at you before apologising. “I’m sorry for making a scene, but I’ve had an iffy day and just wanted a coffee. I could tell you couldn’t be bothered dealing with her.”

You gently shook your head.

“Don’t apologise, please. It’s fine. I’m surprised you got her out of here so fast. Normally they like to stay and complain longer. Anyway, what can I get you?” you asked.

Max gave you his coffee order with a smile before noticing the small decorations around the van.

“You a big McLaren fan?” he asked, nodding toward the decor.

You shook your head while brewing the coffee. “There’s this big race on this weekend and the boss likes to capitalise on weekends like this by putting up some decorations related to the event,” you explained, mixing the coffee.

“Every year he changes the colours. Last year it was black and blue, who I believe was Mercedes, and the year before that was pink, and I have no clue who that was,” you said with a laugh. Max’s gentle laugh joined yours.

“Smart man,” he replied as you handed him the coffee.

“You work here every weekend?” he asked. The question surprised you, but you nodded. Normally, you would have ignored a question like that or lied, but for some reason you didn’t do either with Max.

He nodded back, offering you a small smile.

“Then I shall see you tomorrow for some coffee. Hopefully without the lady this time,” he said.

You let out a small, real laugh.

“Yes, hopefully without the lady,” you nodded, watching as he walked back to his car.

You allowed yourself to smile. You weren’t complaining about the company.

[oscpstri]

but you like it | piastri

piastri x motogp!reader, 3.5k

oscar piastri was a force to be reckoned with, and you found that true when he made your heart go 250 miles per hour. it didn't make it any better that you always somehow found your way back to each other.

INCLUDES: use of y/n, reader and osc are the same, reader is a badass though, quad lock being the enabler, lando being the number 1 shipper, inaccurate timeline, fictional events, they're literally flirting man like just KISS ALREADY UGHHHHH, literally doing everything BUT making it official so annoying

NOTE: came to be when someone requested for a oneshot so why not! TWIN FLAMES acts as a prologue to this but it's not necessary to read that in order to understand this (but still do teehee its cute)

( masterlist | more OP81 )

Oscar wasn't supposed to stay this long.

Not in Austria, not at the track, and definitely not in your garage. But somehow he found himself leaning against a wall in the back, hand in his hoodie pocket, pretending to scroll through his phone like he wasn't stealing glances at you.

You were crouched by your bike, deep in conversation with your engineer, hands moving as you spoke. There was something about the way you talked— firm but relaxed, all fire with an ice-cold edge. Oscar watches as you cross your arms and tilt your head as you listen, nodding every once in a while in agreement.

You hadn't noticed him. Or maybe you did but acted like you didn't.

"You're back," one of your mechanics teases him, passing with a sly grin.

Oscar raises his eyebrows, playing it cool. "Here for work."

"Right. Want me to get you an autograph?"

Oscar smirks but doesn't answer, gaze already lingering back to you.

That's when you feel it. The distinct buzz of someone watching.

You glance over your shoulder, just in time to lock eyes with the Formula 1 driver. He gives you a small nod as your eyes meet, to which you narrow your eyes back. It was like a secret language by now.

You walk towards him, passing your helmet to a mechanic who offered.

"Can't get enough of me, huh?"

Oscar shrugs. "Just making sure you don't fly off your bike again."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Weren't you the one that crashed last weekend?"

Oscar raises a brow, a small smirk on his face. "Almost crashed. I still won."

A smile threatens to grow on your face. Your eyes flicker to the logo on the hoodie he was wearing, looking back at him with furrowed eyebrows and a small smile. "You used Quad Lock as your excuse to be here?"

He glances down at his hoodie before looking back at you with a cheeky grin. "Can't have people knowing I'm here voluntarily."

You tilt your head in disbelief. "You're annoying."

"Yeah, but you like it."

You shake your head at his antics, turning on your heel and walking off. Oscar watches you go, lips twitching. God, he couldn't get enough of you.

The thing about you and Oscar was that you two were practically the same. Not just in the paralleling careers in different motorsports, but also in personality.

You were both calm under pressure, stoic even in high-tension moments. You were both precise and calculated with every move you pull out in races, nothing was done without reason. You two also had quiet confidence— you didn't need to trash talk another driver because the results you put in did all the talking for you. If they were giving shit, you wouldn't notice. You'd have to read between the lines in order to catch what they meant— shade with style. You two also were a media mystery. Never saying more than you had to, never giving more than what interviewers asked for, never revealing anything unless asked.

You two were mysterious, and it got the whole world talking. So much so that the moment you magically appeared in the McLaren hospitality in casual clothes and sunglasses, the entire paddock started whispering. Because you not hiding behind Quad Lock gear made everyone think that you were there, not for content, but because you wanted to be— which was true but no one needed to know that.

"Fancy seeing you here," a familiar voice says, plopping down onto the chair beside you. You look up to see McLaren's more experienced driver, clad in papaya.

"And not against your own will." Lando quirks an eyebrow, catching the absence of anything Quad Lock on your body. Your silence makes his face light up, a knowing smile forming on his lips.

"Oh my—"

"Don't," you snap. The Brit only grins more, a cheeky smile on his face like he was a toddler that was just told a secret.

"Y/N," he starts. "Do you like my teammate?"

Silence falls between the both of you, Lando patiently waiting for the answer. You only scoff, a smile growing on your face as you leaned back into the chair— that was enough to give him an answer.

"Oh my god," he whispers excitedly, shaking your knee like he couldn't believe it.

It wasn't until then when he noticed the familiar hat sitting on your lap. It was black so he didn't pay much mind to it, but when he finally got a close-up of the design, he gasped so loud the entire hospitality thought he was dying.

You catch what he was looking at, covering the hat like you didn't just expose yourself even more in that moment. You didn't care that Lando knew, but you did care if anyone else did.

"That's from when he won in Baku," Lando says under his breath, staring at the 1st place Pirelli hat like it was a pot of gold.

"Was hard to wash out the champagne but," you inspect the hat, "I got it clean eventually."

Lando continues to sit there like his brain just went into overdrive. "You two are gonna be the death of me."

You giggle at his words, eyes locked onto the hat like it was the key that uncovered every interaction you had with its owner behind closed doors.

You and Oscar weren't dating— not yet. But you two had an unspoken connection that no matter how far you two were from each other, did not go away. That's why you two texted everyday, that's why you two bickered through call, that's why you exchange reels on Instagram that reminded you of each other, that's why you would stay up until past midnight to talk to him, that's why he would set an alarm for 4 in the morning just to talk to you.

That's why you were in the McLaren garage, Oscar's Pirelli hat on, leant against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the man in papaya who was heaving like he would explode any moment now.

The media’s swarming, the team’s whispering, the cameras are zoomed in a little too close. But Oscar? He’s stone-faced.

No slammed steering wheel, no screaming into the radio. Just a tight jaw, a clipped 'I’m okay' to his engineer, and a quiet walk back to the garage.

But you know better.

His suit’s still half-zipped down, fireproofs around his waist, gloves stripped off with more force than necessary. His expression is blank — almost too blank. Like a dam holding back something sharp.

He doesn’t see you until he rounds the corner.

"Didn’t think you’d be back here," he says, voice dry.

"Didn’t think you’d throw the car into the wall," you counter, light enough to make it a joke— not a jab. He doesn’t smile.

That’s how you know he’s really mad.

You push yourself off the wall, taking a step closer. "How bad?"

He shrugs. "It happens."

"Not what I asked."

He's silent for a while, trying to distract himself from looking at you. Putting his helmet on the table, gloves somewhere else, tossing the balaclava wherever. When he realizes that there was nothing he could do anymore, he sighs, turning to look at you.

"I had the pace— I had it. Then I lost it because I pushed too hard. That's it. It was stupid."

You pause. He looks at you. Sharp but not angry. You reach up and tug at the collar of his suit— gentle, grounding. "Don't talk about my favorite driver like that."

He blinks. Something flickers in his eyes and eventually Oscar swears he could hear his heart in his ears.

"I'm your favorite?"

You let go of him, stepping back and shrugging. "By default. You're easy to beat."

A beat passes. A small smile etched onto Oscar's face.

"You're annoying," he says softly.

"You like it," you shoot back, already walking back to the front of the garage. "Now go fix your ego before I start sending helmet designs for when I switch sports and replace you."

He watches you go in awe. He lets out a long breath and forgets all about the rage he felt mere minutes ago.

It was late. The kind of late where the world was quiet, the air hung heavy, and the only thing louder than the silence was your own heartbeat. You were curled up on the hotel couch, hair still damp from a rushed shower, scrolling through race footage on your laptop when a knock echoed through the door.

You didn't need to check who it was. When you opened it, Oscar stood there— hoodie wrinkled, hair tousled, and a tired kind of weight behind his eyes. Not sad, not dramatic, just… worn.

"Couldn't sleep?" you asked softly.

He shook his head. "You?"

"Not really."

A pause.

"You wanna come in?"

He hesitated. Then nodded once, stepping inside.

The room was dim, just the warm glow of the TV playing on mute and the faint light from your laptop screen. Oscar took a seat on the edge of the bed like he wasn’t sure where to put himself.

"I keep replaying it," he said eventually. "That corner. That one mistake. It's pathetic."

You looked over from your spot on the couch. "It’s not."

"I had the pace," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "The tires were warm. I knew the entry line. And still, I turned in too early and… gone. Just like that."

You closed the laptop. Set it aside.

"I've seen that look before," you admit. "Usually in the mirror."

Oscar glanced at you, brows furrowed.

"That blank one you wear when you're pissed at yourself but don’t want to let anyone know. You were holding it all in like it wasn’t already written across your shoulders."

He didn't answer. Just looked at you like you had peeled something open without trying to.

"I get it," you added. "Everyone talks about how you're calm, collected. But no one ever asks what it's like to keep it all in when you want to scream."

Oscar's jaw flexed, but he didn't speak. You could tell he was still chasing the perfect words— still trying to frame his frustration into something he could take in.

You walked over and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. Not too close— just enough.

"If it helps," you said lightly, "you're still the best driver on four wheels I've ever met."

He snorted softly. "That's a low bar coming from someone who lives on two."

You nudged his shoulder with yours. "Careful. I might take that personally."

A beat.

He turned his head slightly, eyes meeting yours— calmer now. Less clouded.

"You're the only person I've ever met who makes me feel like I'm not already one step ahead," he said quietly.

The words settled in your chest like thunder after a flash. You tried to smile, but it came out smaller than usual. "That supposed to scare me?"

Oscar's gaze dropped to your lips for half a second too long.

"No," he said, voice rough. "It's supposed to scare me."

You didn't say anything after that. You didn't have to.

He stayed for a while. Just sitting there— side by side. No more racing, no more pressure. Just a quiet understanding between two people who had finally met their match and couldn't look away.

It started innocent enough. A quiet cafe somewhere tucked in Barcelona's backstreets. The walls covered in polaroids, espresso strong enough to fuel an entire grid.

You had found the place first. Hidden, warm, local. The kind of spot not even MotoGP fans would think to look.

Oscar showed up ten minutes late, hoodie over his head, sunglasses on like it wasn't painfully obvious who he was.

"You look suspicious," you said as he slid into the booth across from you.

"I look anonymous."

"You look like someone about to rob the counter."

He cracked a smile, fingers wrapping around the drink you'd already ordered for him. He blinked once, looking back at you with his mouth slightly agape.

"I don't drink coffee," he mutters, watching as you take a sip from your cup.

"I know," you start, "that's why that's a smoothie."

He blinks even more. “You remembered,” he muttered.

You shrugged, putting your cup down. "Was tempting, though. Figured the caffeine might help your cornering next time."

That earned a light kick to your shin under the table. You grinned.

The conversation wandered easily— racing, Netflix edits, who had the worse simulator setup. He leaned in closer when you teased him about still using traction control, and you found yourself tugging his sunglasses off just to prove a point.

You didn't notice the phone— not right away. It was only after you'd laughed— head thrown back and eyes scrunching— that Oscar paused, eyes flicking briefly over your shoulder.

Too late. Someone had already taken the photo. A fan. Smart enough to stay quiet about it— for now.

It wasn't until the both of you got back to the hotel when you noticed the amount of messages you were getting from fellow drivers and riders.

"I told you to sit facing the wall," Oscar muttered, scrolling through the chaos on his phone.

You flopped down on the bed beside him, snatching the device from his hands. "You also told me the disguise was foolproof."

He gave you a flat look. "I didn't think me wearing sunglasses would trigger a media meltdown."

"Please. You smiled. That's enough to spark a scandal."

He laughed. Quiet, barely there, but real. Then, softly:

"They think we're dating."

You looked at him, curious. "Does that bother you?"

Oscar hesitated. Then met your gaze.

"No," he said. "Does it bother you that it doesn't bother me?"

You stared at him, heart stalling for one stupid second.

"No," you said back, voice just above a whisper. "It really doesn't."

The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was charged— full of all the things you both weren't ready to say.

But maybe, just maybe, you were starting to feel ready.

The aftermath of it all was entertaining.

It starts with a Quad Lock conference, a sit-down with reporters and a new brand ambassador. The beginning to the crossover event where all the brand's ambassadors try out each other's sports.

They made you sit next to each other, you knew Quad Lock planned this all from the very beginning.

Your name is called first. You lean into the mic, perfectly composed— at least from the waist up. Oscar leans back in his seat beside you, arms crossed, face unreadable except for the faint twitch of his mouth.

A reporter raises their hand, grinning like they already know the answer. "So... that cafe in Barcelona. Cozy, wasn't it?"

You hum, chin tilted enough just to be smug, an eyebrow raised. "Should I be asking for your coffee order?"

Oscar's already smirking, mic lifted casually. "She rated it an 8. Don't think we'll be going back, though. What with the... unexpected company and all."

The room loses it. Laughter erupts, a dozen camera flashes, some even gasp at the subtle confirmation. You shake your head, trying to bite back the smile. Oscar doesn't even blink.

Then comes the real question:

"Are you two together?"

You and Oscar both pause.

"No."

"Not yet."

It comes from him and it silences the room. You turn your head so fast you almost pull a muscle. "Excuse me?"

He clears his throat. "That was supposed to be a thought."

You bite your cheek to keep from laughing. You whisper into your mic, "You're making this worse."

He glances sideways. "Am I lying?"

Another pause.

You look straight into the camera. "No comment."

Twitter dies, fan pages erupt, and you don't even bother checking your phone this time.

Then comes the inevitable team meeting. You're told to report to your team principal's office after the press conference.

You had expected a scolding, not Oscar already sitting there, arms folded, sipping from a water bottle like this was a casual debrief.

You stop at the door. "Is this… couples therapy?"

"I prefer public image management," he says.

Your managers stare at you like you've both just announced a pregnancy.

"Are you dating?"

You both glance at each other. Oscar sighs, adjusting himself in his seat. "I like her. I'm not gonna hide that."

You freeze. He's not looking at the managers, he's looking at you.

You swallow. Shrug a little. "I'd consider signing a multi-year race contract."

There's a beat of silence.

Your manager scribbles something furiously into their notes. Probably 'chaos imminent'. They finally look up at you and mutter: "Do we need to start printing shirts?"

Then it's the first race since the scandal. Your name is on every tabloid. Oscar's too. You figured he'd stay far away.

But there he is. Leaning casually against the garage, team pass hanging from his lanyard, sunglasses back on like that's going to stop anyone from recognizing him.

Your mechanics whistle when you walk into the garage and see him.

You raise an eyebrow. "You lost?"

Oscar just grins. "You'll crash if you keep staring."

You throw your towel at him. "You wish."

You win that race, obviously. Fastest lap, pole to podium, champagne in your hair, and gold on your collar.

When you walk back to the garage, Oscar is still there— a new team cap in his hand.

He tosses it to you without a word. You catch it. Thumb running over the '81' embroidered on the brim.

"Figured I owed you one," he says, a little breathless, like he ran to make sure he didn't miss you.

You tilt your head, playful. "You came all the way here just to even the score?"

He shrugs. "No. I came for you."

Your smile is slow, wide, unstoppable. And suddenly, it's not about press photos, or rumors, or what the media thinks anymore.

It's just him. It's just you. It's just the quiet, terrifying, electric realization that you've finally found someone who matches you beat for beat and it's the best thing that's ever happened to either of you.

Oscar was on pole. The McLaren garage was buzzing with the electric sort of tension that only came with race day. Tire warmers humming, radios crackling, mechanics pacing with tightly wound nerves. But the real reason everyone kept sneaking glances over their shoulders?

You.

Sitting confidently on the orange garage stool with a headset resting around your neck and the most deliberate papaya jacket zipped halfway over your MotoGP uniform. You weren't hiding. You hadn't even tried.

People stared, whispered, took photos. And you met every look with a raised brow and a smirk that said, yes, I'm here, and yes, I'm staying.

"Thought you said papaya wasn't your color," Oscar said as he passed you, helmet in hand, voice low enough just for you to hear.

You leaned back and smiled up at him. "It isn't. But you are."

He blinked. Almost stumbled. And for the first time in years, Oscar Piastri— calm, cool, unshakably composed— looked like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"You're going to ruin my race focus," he muttered, voice slightly higher than usual.

"I hope so," you teased. "Win anyway."

You watched every lap from the garage, headset finally over your ears, half-listening to strategy while keeping your eyes locked on that papaya blur carving through every sector.

He was perfect— composed, ruthless in defense, smooth on exits.

And when he crossed the finish line first, fists pumping in the cockpit, the entire garage exploded around you.

You didn't move.

Not until he pulled into parc fermé. Not until the camera caught him looking straight toward the garage before he even unbuckled. Not until he jogged in, helmet off, curls messy with sweat already on his suit.

And then you were moving.

He spotted you before anyone else did. Didn't wait, didn't ask, just walked toward you with that exhausted, elated kind of grin.

"I won," he said breathlessly.

"I saw."

"You wore orange."

"I know."

Oscar stepped closer. Close enough that the noise fell away. Close enough that his team was watching with barely-disguised grins and held breath.

You looked up at him. "Still want to pretend it's not a thing?"

He shook his head once. Firm. "No. I’m done pretending."

You smiled. "Good. Because I don't feel like hiding anymore."

He didn't say anything else. He just kissed you.

Soft at first. Gentle, almost unsure— like even now, he couldn't believe it was happening. But you kissed him back like you'd been waiting your whole damn life for it, and the paddock lost its mind.

Applause, camera flashes, mechanics howling, drivers wolf-whistling as they passed.

But none of it mattered. Because it was just you and Oscar. Two champions. One race at a time. Exactly the same. And finally, together.

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | twelve

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, angst, college au, smau/irl, mentions of medical procedures, surgery, hospitals, medicine, jealousy, breastfeeding mentioned once.

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 1.9k

authors note: it took me longer than I wanted but my health wasn't cooperating. This wasn't supposed to be a flashback but if I had added this to last chapter it would've been too long. We will be back to the present time line next part, I just needed to get this out of the way. ENJOY 🙂‍↕️

11 | 12 | 13

Sophomore year - Spring Break 2023

“Look, it’s not packed, I told you,” you said to Kelce.  

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to come to the beach, but you and Angie did, and he was tagging along because it was his only day with nothing planned.  

“You know you are crashing, right?” you teased him.  

“Excuse me for wanting to spend time with my best friend.” Kelce rolled his eyes again as you laid out something for the three of you to sit on.  

“I am spending time with my best friend,” you said with a little smirk, referring to Angie and not him.  

“Just say you hate me,” he said, putting a hand over his chest and pretending to be hurt. Meanwhile, Angie was just chuckling and setting down some of the items she had brought for the picnic at the beach.  

After the three of you were settled, you took some pictures as you always did and started talking. The conversation began with Angie telling you about Ethan and what had happened with him in more detail, and that he had tried to explain why he did what he did, but only made things worse. Kelce gave his opinions when asked; he knew better than to interrupt the two of you during your catch-up session. The conversation shifted to Kelce and Nikki, the girl he was seeing. She was nice, and you didn’t have much to tell him about her, just that sometimes she was a bit too jealous, but he knew that and liked it.

After eating and having a lighthearted chat, Kelce decided to probe a bit about the Jordan and Rafe topic. He wasn’t asking to get something out of it, but after the party and the date a month ago, he had been wanting to ask some things, though he had held back, not wanting to piss you off. You had reacted a bit badly to his lack of enthusiasm when you told him about the date, so he had refrained from asking why you had suddenly decided to give all your energy and attention to Jordan when you had been feeling unsure about him.  

“So, how are things with Jordan? Any plans for this week?”  

“No, we have been talking here and there. He wants to go out again, but our schedules keep clashing.”  

“It’s spring break; shouldn’t he be free?” Kelce tried to sound supportive, but he didn’t like Jordan; there was something that didn’t sit right with him. The only person he had admitted this to was Rafe because he knew he also didn’t like him, though Rafe’s reasons were completely different. Kelce just didn’t like the guy, while Rafe didn’t like Jordan because you liked Jordan. Jealousy.  

“He has plans with his family,” you said, taking a sip of your Coke. 

“Okay, yeah, I get it…” he paused. “But besides that, everything is good, right?”  

“Yes, after the date, he has been even sweeter, mentioning things I told him, and he always brings up the date. I’m taking it as a good sign.” You said, and Angie nodded as if to reassure you.  

“No regrets on going on the date then?” Kelce stated rather than questioned.  

“No regrets at all,” you said with a smile. “Why? You thought I was regretting it?”  

“No, no, just making sure you feel okay with him.”  

“I do, thanks for asking.”  

“So Rafe?” he said, not knowing how else to bring it up. You knitted your eyebrows.  

“Rafe? What about Rafe?”  

“You don’t like him anymore?”  

“What?” You asked, even more confused; he had caught you off guard. You hadn’t told him you had a crush on him. Angie had been the only one who knew about what you called a silly crush.  

“Or did I get it wrong?” Kelce asked, trying to read your reaction. You sighed, giving up.  

“No… I did have a little crush on him for a while, but it’s over now.” He smirked at your answer.  

“When?”  

“When what?”  

“When did you get over him? Was it before or after you saw him kissing Sofia?” He was testing you, and you hated it.  

“Who is Sofia?” Angie asked, a bit confused.  

“High school friend of Kelce,” you explained to her. “And that kiss is not relevant.” It was; you knew it had been relevant. It had been the whole reason you decided to move on.  

“If you say so.”  

“Kelce, I don’t like him anymore, okay?”  

“Thought it was a silly crush,” Angie added, grinning.  

“Angie!” you huffed and rolled your eyes.

—

This time, the family spring break trip had also been a family reunion; older cousins and other relatives had tagged along. There were more kids around this time, and Emily was over the moon to have cousins her age and even nieces and nephews who were her age or close to it to play with. Rafe mingled and talked to everyone, but at the end of the day, he always returned to what he felt comfortable with: Sarah. They were that pair of cousins who did almost everything together since childhood, and people mistook them for siblings. His mom and Sarah’s mom had been best friends since college, and by luck or destiny, they had married brothers, which led them to share a last name. Later on, it resulted in Sarah having her aunt’s name as her middle name.

So, as with any other dinner, Sarah and Rafe were sitting next to each other, ready to comment on whatever would happen during the meal or had happened earlier. 

“Who do you think will end up drinking more tonight?” Sarah asked. 

“Grandpa, maybe; it’s always him. Watch him make toasts for nothing to excuse his drinking,” Rafe said, chuckling under his breath. 

“I think it's gonna be Liliana. She officially stopped breastfeeding, and she said she wasn't looking after the baby today.” She chuckled, and Rafe rolled his eyes. 

“I know; she almost threw Theo at me today.” 

The dinner went on normally, just as they had expected. At one point, it was just the grown-ups at the table, but they were not interested in that talk, and Sarah had wanted to ask Rafe something for a while but hadn’t had the chance to do so. 

“So… how are you feeling now about the Y/N situation?” she asked, a bit scared of how he was going to react. 

“What situation?” 

“Your feelings for her.” 

“I’m okay; she’s with Jordan, so I don’t care anymore.” He said it was nothing, but Sarah knew better. This time, she didn’t want to push him to say more, or he would shut her off entirely, and that was not her intention. 

“So that’s it?” she asked, a bit concerned. Rafe sighed.

“Yeah, that’s it…” 

“Want to talk about it?” 

“No, she’s just a friend, I guess. I don’t know; we never got to talk or hang out one-on-one, so I guess she’s just part of the friend group but not my friend.” Sarah noticed the resignation in his voice, and it made her feel bad. She knew Jordan a bit, and she didn’t feel like he was a bad guy. Of course, between Jordan and Rafe, she would choose Rafe for you, but you were happy with Jordan. 

“I’m sorry…” 

“Look, she’s with him, and I just don’t care anymore. It’s her life; she can do whatever she wants, and that’s it.”

Coming out of the anesthesia was hell. You didn’t remember anything you had done. You thought you had just passed out, but according to the nurses, you talked a lot. You even fought with one of them. You apologized, and she said she was used to it; she knew patients didn’t mean it. 

As your mom had gone out of your room to check on you and see if the insurance was covering this, a nurse helped you shower and get ready to go home. Even though you knew it didn’t matter how you looked, you styled your hair and did your makeup because you wanted to look presentable. 

“Is your boyfriend waiting for you at home?” the nurse asked in a gentle tone, just trying to make conversation. 

“Oh no, no, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you chuckled softly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry for asking. I just assumed from the way you were talking about this guy when you were coming out of the anesthesia.” 

“Oh, did I say his name?” you asked, curious about what you had said. 

“No, honey, I’m sorry, but you were saying how nice and thoughtful he was at your birthday. I don’t interrupt when patients are like that; I just let them talk,” she said gently, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Rafe. 

“Probably just one of my friends,” you lied. You didn’t have to lie to the nurse who didn’t know about your life, but you did. 

“Well then, you have amazing friends,” she said.

—

When you got back home, you stayed in the living room, not wanting to walk up the stairs. Jordan had called you, asking if he could drop by to see how you were doing, and you had agreed. When he arrived, you two talked, and he met your mom briefly. You were listening to music and just hanging out when the doorbell rang.

“Don’t even try to stand up,” he said in a warning but caring tone. He wanted to go answer the door, but your mom went first. You heard a soft, “Thanks,” before she closed the door.

“What was it?” you asked loud enough for your mom to hear.

“Sarah sent you a get-well-soon basket.” She placed the basket next to you so you could see what was inside. 

“This is too cute; I need to text her.” Jordan smiled at your reaction to the gift from Sarah. “Oh, look at the card! It has a band-aid,” you chuckled softly as you looked at the front of the card. It was a band-aid with googly eyes, stick hands, and legs, and it read, “Get well soon.”

After texting Sarah, you grabbed the card and checked what she had told you. It was signed just as she said it would be: Sarah and Rafe. You felt something tug at your heart as you read the handwritten note, but you had to ignore it.  

“Jordan, can you change the song, please?” He nodded and went to grab your phone to change the song.  

“Of course.” He didn’t mean to see the texts waiting there for you to read, but he did. Rafe Cameron. He knew Rafe as one of Topper's friends. You had mentioned him a couple of times when you two had started talking, but it never made him worry.  

Jordan didn’t think of himself as a jealous guy, but when he read what Rafe had bought you, it made him want to hit the guy. Why was he buying you things? Wasn’t this supposed to be just from Sarah?  

“Can I see the card?” he asked. You nodded and passed it to him. When he opened it, he suppressed a huff. He had seen your reaction to the card, and now that he knew Rafe was in it, something just didn’t sit right with him. He was sure his eye was going to start twitching if he didn’t calm down.  

Jordan tried to ignore the feeling for the rest of the time he was there. He canceled a plan he had just made to stay there in a way to compensate for not buying you anything like Sarah and Rafe had done. He didn’t tell you how he felt; you needed to focus on your recovery, and he had to focus on not feeling jealous of Rafe.

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains @winterivory @my-name-is-baby @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewrry @ursogorgeous13 @pr3tty-pink @lmaowhatt @xoxosblogsblog @ayy1234567 @congratsloserr @moonywhisp3rs @iamheretoread1234 @rafesdrew @pogueprincesa @cokewithcameron @landososcar @drewstarkeyslover @wintersoldierslover @rafecqmeronslove @defnotayonna @wintercrows @letstryagaintomorrow @rafestoothbrush @angelicameron @dreamybabbyy @percysley @sideboobrry11 @diasnohibng @charchartumb-lr @mariamadison6-blog @drewstarkeyswife-7 @memoirofasparklemuff1n @wtfisastiles @lcversvoid if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :) follow and turn on notifications on @inthelibrarybtw-notifs to get updates on everything I write

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.

[corkinavoid]

Case File: Unexpected Gift

They are unpacking their massive haul at Jazz’s place — because books had to be welcomed into their new home and organized first — when Tucker pipes up from the video call.

"Hey, what's that in your pocket?"

Everyone turns to him. Well, to the laptop sitting on Jazz’s desk, if they are being entirely accurate, where Tucker's face is illuminated only by a cold, blueish-white glow of his screen. It's only an hour of time difference between Gotham and Amity, so, if it's just barely past ten here, it should be around nine there. Danny still doesn't understand Tucker's commitment to sitting in the dark despite having a perfectly functioning lamp in his room.

Sam is on the couch, studying her Gala dress critically, accessories and other clothing items that Danny doesn't even recognize thrown around her in piles. Dani is down on the floor, surrounded by her colorful, bright, and shiny new possessions like they are trying to take her in occupation. Jazz, books in both hands, stands by her bookshelf, her face pinched in thought like she's deciding a fate of a nation and not sorting through her library.

Danny, who's only loot from today's trip is a tiny picture that he photobombed, frowns.

"Who's pocket you mean?" He asks because Tucker's tone doesn't sound like he's just pranking them.

"Dani’s," comes a response, "I was connecting to the Bluetooth speaker she got, the one that looks like a bunny-"

"It's a speaker?!" Dani snatches the fluffy white thing — to be fair, Danny also thought it was just a toy until now — and shoves her intangible fingers inside it, feeling it. "Makes sense why it cost so much, okay," she snorts a second later.

"Yeah, but there's another audio device in the range. In your pocket," Tucker patiently returns their attention to the matter at hand.

Dani leaves the bunny-speaker alone and shifts, searching through the countless pockets of her cargo pants. The first two come out empty, the third one produces some ancient-looking bubblegum package, but then, as soon as she shoves her hand in the next one, she frowns in confusion.

What she pulls out is a tiny, no bigger than a bottle cap, dark metal disk. No markings, no logos, nothing that could even clue them into what it is.

"I don't know-" Dani starts, but Sam is already jumping up from the couch in a flurry of expensive fabric.

"That's a tracker!" She points to the thing, and then turns to Danny, pointing her manicured finger at him, "I knew Caroline was a spy!"

First, why does she say it like it's Danny’s fault, but he doesn't voice that. Sam is merciless when she's in a state of righteous fury.

Instead, he freezes and raises his hands up in surrender, like he's dealing with a particularly aggressive animal. "I mean, who's to say it was her?" He tries.

"We were at the mall the whole day," Jazz joins in, her back turned to the commotion as she keeps putting books in their places. Trust his sister to treat a surprise tracker as an everyday occurrence. "Anyone could have placed it. Think of that consultant in the lingerie store, she kept going circles around us like a shark. Or the guy who tried to hit on you in the food court."

Reasonable arguments. Danny raises his eyebrows pointedly at Sam. She huffs and flops back down on the couch.

"But who else, other than that girl, could be so interested in some random tourists that they plant a tracker on them?" She argues, "Think of the motive!"

That's a bit rich, coming from her, the daughter of millionaires. Not to mention the whole gallery of Danny's Rogues, ghost hunter parents, Dani’s position as the 'little princess' of a crime empire, and Jazz being involved in that same empire as well. There are not enough fingers on Danny's hands — naturally, he means, since he could sprout a dozen or so more of them — to count all the people who'd want to track them.

"Okay, good news, it is, actually, a tracker," Tucker cuts in, causing them to pause.

"Why is that good news?" Danny threads carefully, and Tucker grins, his glasses reflecting the light of the screen.

"It's not a bomb, a bug, or some mind-controlling chip," he explains, smug. "Although it can, technically, record audio, but I doubt it caught anything beside your Caroline and Jazz speaking — the tech is new, and the rest of you are way too contaminated. So it's fine."

"Except now they know where I live," Jazz adds casually, and that makes Danny’s stomach sink. He was too focused on who planted the thing to think about the consequences, but-

"Relax, Jazz has a gun, and, like, five people guarding this apartment," Dani waves him off — his face must be telling — and turns to the laptop screen, "Can I eat it?"

"Sure, just make sure it dissolves completely," Tucker shrugs.

"Wait, I have people guarding my apartment?" Ah, so that's the part that gets Jazz’s attention. Danny snorts, watching Dani throw the metal thing in her mouth and chew on it with a satisfying crunch.

"M-yeah, Vlad put them there," the little gremlin confirms offhandedly, "Don't worry, they have reasonable shifts, weekends, and he pays for their dinner breaks." She picks the fluffy toy speaker again and turns to Tucker, "Hey, can I connect my phone to it?"

"Gimme a sec, I'll add it to our ecto-net set," the boy hums, his hands already clicking the keys.

Danny looks at Sam. She is glaring at her dress like she is attempting to set it on fire with laser vision. Thankfully, she doesn't have it.

"I still think it was her," she states, purposefully not looking at anyone in the room. Danny shrugs, as careless as he can manage.

"I mean, I'm not saying you're wrong," he admits, because, technically, it could be. "But she doesn't look like she's evil. Besides, didn't you ask her if she needed a ride yourself, and she refused? Why plant a tracker if she'd known where we lived anyway if she agreed?"

"You have a crush on her, I don't trust your judgment," Sam retorts. Which, ouch. True, but still ouch.

–○–

This is a part of Crime Scene Do Not Cross fic, and takes place a few hours after Chapter 3.

Honestly, every one of them has had too much experience with trackers and stuff to be truly alarmed by it. So, the Team Phantom's approach to unsolicited stalking is just 'yeah, we'll cross that bridge when we get there', because if they try eliminating all the suspects one by one, it would take ages, between Danny being the Ghost King, Sam having supernatural ties, and Vlad's whole business.

However, it was not Tim’s tracker.

[imbaebi]

Sunset, Sundress and Sandals

ִֶָ࣪☾. 방찬 —

paring: idol!chan x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none?

wc / cc : 1.2k / 6.8k

skz summer masterlist

synopsis —---

chan asks you to go watch the sunset at the beach with him but with the condition that you must wear a sundress. very odd condition but you agree

—-- ⪩⪨⪩⪨

You went through your closet, throwing clothes out onto the ground.

    “Where is it...?” you mutter as your search went on.

You were looking for something in specific. It was like it vanished— oh wait silly you, your light blue sundress had fallen off the hanger and into your belt basket. You thought you were going crazy but it was just in your closet. You mentally face palm.

Your friend Chan, yes the Bangchan of stray kids asked you to go for a walk on the beach with him today. You agreed because who in their right mind would turn down, Chan? You may have had a crush on him for a couple months now... I mean come on, it's the Christopher Chan—who wouldn't have a crush on him. Though of course you were stuck in the friendzone. He was clearly too busy to date and well he was most certainly not interested in you. But being his friend was enough. That's what you told yourself.

You two had a mutual friend, Changbin and that's how you met Chan and the rest of the kids. Lately though, you noticed that Chan had been texting you more often and hanging out when he had time, just the two of you, alone. He said he liked your company, that comment had made your stomach erupt into a million butterflies but you had to be nonchalant, you learned the best from Minho and Seungmin.

Anyways, back to the date—I mean the hangout with Chan. You couldn't let your delulus take over you, not today. He had specifically asked you to wear a sundress, he knew of your huge collection since those were your favorite things to wear. Who were you to deny him?

You begin to get ready at around 5:40. He asked to meet at 7 to watch the sunset together. That would have been the most romantic thing ever if it wasn't for the cough barrier called friendship cough. 

You took an everything shower. You felt refreshed and a bit tired but it was worth it. You got ready, doing your hair and makeup, and putting your clothes on. You spray some perfume before you deeming yourself ready. You put on your sandals and grab your bag. You look great, that you couldn't deny. You sure hope Chan thought so too. Time to head to the beach.

⪩⪨

You arrive at the beach, and find Chan already there. He was leaning against his car on his phone, his eyebrows furrow at whatever it was on the screen. He looks annoyed.

“Hi, Chan.” He looks up at you, whatever annoyance that was on his face melts as soon as he looks at you

    “Y/N! You're here. Wow I really love your dress.” He compliments. Your heart literally stops.

    “Ah—Thank you! I like your outfit too.” He looks like a whole meal in his white button down shirt that were short sleeved. He has three buttons unbuttoned which gave a nice view of the top his chest. And his forehead was exposed, what a deadly combo.

    “Shall we get going?”

You two head onto the beach, you walk for a bit chatting and laughing like old friends. The sun was near setting now. You had both ditched your sandals to go stand in the shallow tide. The water was cool as it rushed to your feet before pulling back in hushed whispers. The sun reflected onto the water giving the world a warmish glow. It was a couple hours after golden hour yet this moment still felt golden in your treasured memories.

Chan suddenly takes your hands into his, he stares into your eyes making you feel nervous. The sunset breeze was cool compared to earlier's humid air. The golden colors of the sunset reflect on your eyes making you 10x prettier in his eyes.

    “Y/N. Let me get to the point... I brought you here for a reason.” you tilt your head slightly. Your eyes on him, steady because you're afraid if you let yourself you would have collapsed from the way he was making eye contact with you. “I spent all day trying to figure out how to tell you, practiced a speech in front of the mirror and everything. But I guess I got too nervous as I was driving here so I forgot everything I rehersed. I know, that was very dumb. So I'll just freestyle this from the bottom of my heart.

“Y/N everytime I look at you, you make me feel nervous but in a good way. You make time stop each time you look at me with those pretty eyes of yours, my heart starts to race and I can't help it. Truthfully I like you. I like you a lot to the point of loving. Fuck I love you, Y/N. You mean so much to me. I can't live without you, your smile, your laugh, the way you bite your lip when youre nervous and how your nose scrunches up when you smile. I love every single part of you but it hurts to think that you aren't mine, hurts to know that someone else out there could come and snatch you up at any given moment. So I was hoping, really hoping you'd give me the chance to be your boyfriend. I'll make sure you won't regret it.” He quickly rushes out out of pure nerves, just speaking whatever that comes from the bottom of his heart. You were speechless, surprised that your friend was really confessing to you right now. Your heart flutters at his sweet words. When he notices you haven't said a word yet, he starts to panic, “Ah of course you don't have to say yes or anything. You could reject me right now, I'll be able to take it even if it hurts a little or a lo-”

You shut him up by kissing him, now it was his turn to be surprised. He relaxes from whatever panic he was feeling and kisses your soft lips gently, his hand going to the back of your head.

You both finally part for air, faces flushed pink in the salty air. “I'd love for you to be my boyfriend, Channie.”

You smile that smile he loves as you take his hand.

    “I didn't know I'd be one of the lucky ones to see your romantic sides. I've only heard about it.” You giggle.

    “Yeah? Well now you'll be the only one to see my romantic side.” He says.

    “I like that but I don't know how STAYs would feel about that. You know your babygirls love their rizz daddy.” You tease. He groans loudly, the tips of his ears turning red. “I guess I'm one lucky STAY.”

You smile up at him. The ocean rushes, hugging your ankles again with it's last calm whisper of gold before the sun sunk down. Leaving the sky dark with tints of pink and purple. You hadn't really thought on the troubles dating a kpop idol would bring because of their fandoms but you were too happy, too in the moment to even care. You could worry about that stuff later. Right now, you have Chan right in front of you as your boyfriend. Somewhere between the silent gazing of you both, the gap between you had become significantly smaller. You take this chance and close the gap. His lips are soft, he tasted fainty of strawberries.

The sandals were long forgotten just like the sun that had disappeared when it had set. The calm ocean hugs your ankles once more as a congrats to the new couple. This blue sundress had become your favorite just because of the sole memory of how you two got together.

©2025 imbaebi — all rights reserved, I don't allow copy of my work. Inspiration is one thing, plagiarism is another. reblogging is appreciated.

skz summer masterlist

taglist — comment under the masterlist to be added ;

@lezleeferguson-120, @swagblazemilkshake,

[dog-bimbo]

shiu n his sweet bimbo girlfriend part five 18+ only minors dni part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 a/n based on this ask. thank you nonnie, i wanted a reason to continue this series.

you're in shiu's favourite dress, all ready and excited. he's had a bad day, he needs this. he needs to bury his face in your tits.

but there's one problem.

the new waitress at the bar is cute. not in a way that matters, just in a way that passes time. just a fleeting thought that'll never come back.

like ever.

not many people flirt with him anymore. maybe it's because he's older now, or maybe because he's intimidating.

but when they do, he always lets it play out. he didn’t chase it unless he was looking for a good fuck.

and also, you're here. so he has put a halt to everything.

his brain's scrambled at this point. he isn't even thinking before he speaks.

"you want the whiskey neat?" she asks, leaned over the table, flashing him a rather questionable grin.

he barely glances at her, then lets his gaze linger a little too long.

"yeah, neat’s good," he says, voice lower than necessary. "you’re good at reading people?"

"depends. am i right so far?" she giggles.

"yeah." he laughs, that's what lightened him up, truly.

not you, not that pretty dress, not your adamant resolve to get that stress out of his system.

you stiffen beside him, just a bit.

she's probably outspoken—

"and you—" she turns to you, takes your order politely and quickly, no gimmicks.

he leans back in the chair, completely oblivious to the fact that he's been kind of cheeky with the waitress. he forgets it though, he doesn't think well when he's this tired.

you don’t speak nor do you pout.

you just sit there with your pretty lips pressed together and your jaw tight. you don't want to be difficult, especially when you're boyfriend's this exhausted.

and then you do it—you let out that sigh. the one that says everything without saying anything.

he groans, runs a hand over his face. "oh, for fuck’s sake—"

you blink. wide eyed and confused, "wha—"

"don’t do this, baby. don’t make a thing out of nothing."

your voice is small, you're still confused. “i’m not—”

"you are," he snaps at you. "you think i didn’t see that face? i flirt back with someone clearly doing it for tips—"

you open your mouth again and he cuts you off, he's harsher now.

"you’re so fucking dumb sometimes, you know that?"

you flinch. it’s not the same. usually, when he calls you dumb, it's endearing. he's just being a tease.

because you know no one respects you as much as him.

but right now... he scoffs. he fucking scoffs. he goes twice as bitter too.

"you really think i’m the type to fuck around over a compliment? you think that low of me? or is this just some needy bullshit again?"

your stomach twists, it actually feels bad. you just sit there, the pretty dress you're wearing just for him suddenly feeling all wrong.

and when he finally lets you get a word in—"i didn’t mean it like that, shiu..."

he leans back, scoffs."you never do, baby. that’s the fucking problem."

and for the first time ever, you both drink in absolute silence. you're not rambling about something stupid that happened while you were on the clock and he's not even looking in your direction.

he mindlessly smokes. the next time the waitress came in with a new gimmick, he didn't give it a single thought.

you don’t talk on the way home. your silence is not the kind he can brush off with a hand on your thigh and a smirk.

you’re holding it in, barely.

and then, when he parks, it happens.

a tiny sob slips out, and suddenly it’s all coming up. big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, you can't stay strong anymore.

“i’m sorry.”

your voice is broken, your hand covers your face like you’re ashamed to be crying at all.

“i didn’t mean to—i didn’t mean to ruin the night. i just…” you trail off, sniffing, wiping at your face in frustration.

he turns to you, jaw clenched, eyes dark—not angry. just… guilty.

"hey."

you shake your head, try to hide it, but he reaches over anyway, thumb brushing under your eye.he exhales slow, "don’t cry, sweetheart."

you flinch a little when he calls you that, it's a whiplash. "i was an asshole back there, i was just tired... not an excuse, i know."

"look at me."

you do.he just lifts you into his lap like it’s instinct.

you’re still crying, hands gripping his suit jacket now, hiccuping and shaky.

his arms circle you. “hey,” he says, voice low, gruff with guilt. “no more of that. c’mere.”

he presses your head into his neck, wraps a hand around the back of it. rubs slow circles over your spine.

you mumble something—he can’t even make it out.he kisses the top of your head, rests his chin there.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” he says, quieter now. “i did. and i'm so sorry..." he's never been this expressive before. he's actually sorry. you can feel him shaking a bit, he's nervous. he's holding onto you like you might leave him. for a while, that's how the both of you are. quiet. not tense. just... reflective.

your face is still pressed into his neck when he mutters, almost to himself, “can’t believe i made you cry in this dress..”

you sniff, “…what?”

he tilts his head a little, he’s trying to get a better look at your face.

*you know how fucking good you looked tonight? i'm a fucking jackass doll.”

you mumble, “stop it…” you let out a breathy giggle, oh you're so soft for him.

he smiles. you try to hide your face again but he doesn’t let you. he just tilts your chin up, “there’s that dumb little giggle i like.”

you whine, “it’s not dumb.”

“sure it is,” he murmurs, brushing a tear off your cheek. “but i love it. and i love you."

and somehow, just like that, you're back to your old self. a bit tired, a bit dizzy—not with need, but in a tired way. and when he kisses your forehead again, you feel even softer.

"you gotta say it back, baby." he pouts, just a bit. this time, he's needy. "i'll think about it."

you giggle yet again, it's like music to his ears.

and the next minute—he's got his seat pulled back, his hands wrapped around you, his cock pressed against your entrance.

"you still thinkin'?" he smirks, grinding just a bit against your entrance.

"quit teasing!" you whine and then, "fuck—" it's too sudden, it's too... it's too fucking good. he pistons his cock, his entire length stuffed in.

you think he's gonna quicken his thrust but...

he's maintaining this toe-curling, eye-rolling pace of his—it's deliberately slow.

intimate. his breaths are shallow, yours too. you grip your hands on his back, tight, not rough.

he latches his lips onto yours now, his hot mouth drives you wild. he tastes so bittersweet, you can swirl your tongue around his forever...

and when you reach your climax, you moan inside his mouth before pulling away, strings of saliva that's connecting your lips with his slowly snapping away.

you start showering him with breathy "i love you"'s and he's going crazy. but he doesn't give into the temptation of increasing his speed.

wrong time, wrong everything.

and when comes inside you, he's on fucking cloud nine. your confessions serenade his ears as he unloads his pent-up stress right inside you.

you can feel him softening up now, you can feel his shoulders dropping down, his chest rising and falling, his eyes droopy.

"i don't fucking deserve you."

the words are slightly slurred, rough and coarse, but it's laced with all the love he has for you.

[seewetter]

"I still think it was irresponsible for people to put so much faith into hormone based gender affirming care before this study existed."

There seems to be a misunderstanding: this is not the first time medical studies have shown gender affirming care to be valuable and good.

This is just a study that Republicans, in the midst of attempts at making such hormones illegal for transgender people, had ordered.

I agree that this being funded and supervised by anti-transgender Republicans can make the information a bit more convincing for people who may be on the fence about hormone use, but the entire American medical establishment (!) has been in unanimous support of hormone treatments for years. Unless you believe that only Republican politicians can scientifically prove things, these treatments have been scientifically proven to be the right move for decades.

"And they were just giving it (or worse, selling it) to children who were already marginalized and vulnerable."

There is some disagreement here on this website about how we should address people who, like with this sentence, are expressing a fear of children accessing hormones.

One school of thought suggests that when discussing the issue, we should simplify things and basically say "nobody is just giving or selling it to kids". And they have a point, because most of the time, if some kid says "I'm transgender", the medical establishment responds by suggesting therapy, not hormones. And if you want hormones, they will put you through at minimum 18 months of therapy just to make sure you're *really* sure and *really* not making a mistake. And the experience most trans people have with this process is not "wow, I'm being listened to" but rather the experience of talking to someone who doesn't understand, doesn't want to understand and is really trying to talk you out of it.

Another school of thought suggests that we shouldn't simplify, because there are supposedly some cases where transgender kids do actually get hormones. But even so, nobody breathes a word when children who aren't transgender get *their* hormones from the doctor. That isn't cause for alarm, even though these are the exact same substances, often in the same doses and also often for non-medical reasons. Now I'm sure that this will lead to big long debates with people trying to point out why these situations are different and why we should all panic about these substances being given to kids but only if those kids are trans. But all that doesn't change the fact that these concerns were raised by people who didn't care one tiny bit when the kids were not trans. It didn't matter then, because the concerns are not about medicine and the science behind it and the health risks it can cause. These concerns are about gender politics, about fears of a topsy-turvy world where the nice little social groups we are trying to force people into or keep people away from are becoming open enough that people can leave or enter them at will. Hormones used in this way take us a step closer to that world and so people want to stop this at all costs.

The risk of irreversible changes won't go away because Republicans published this study. That risk will go away when people stop emphasizing how vulnerable children are and instead decide that actually funding research to make these changes easier and more reversible is worth their time and money. Similarly, any damage caused from people changing the group they belong to can't be fixed from hurting people that do this. It can only be fixed by figuring out how to let people change groups without damage occurring. I have no idea what your concerns about menopause are, but if they are medical concerns, there will be technological solutions that need to be researched and funded. That is the permanent solution to this constant bickering on this issue, it will put the arguments to rest. Same goes for all complains about social downsides. Think constructively, and you don't need to be opposed to these things and can see that they cause no harm.

Two years after being tasked with commissioning a review of medical evidence surrounding gender-affirming care for trans youth, Utah’s own state health department has concluded that trans healthcare bans “cannot be justified.” The Republicans who commissioned the study aren’t too happy about it.

Back in 2023, Utah Governor Spencer Cox signed a bill that placed an indefinite “moratorium” on doctors prescribing gender-affirming care like hormone therapy and puberty blockers to trans youth. That bill ordered the Utah Department of Health and Human Services to compile their report in order to produce recommendations for the state government on whether or not to lift the moratorium.

This week, the department delivered their long-awaited, over 1,000-page report — which is dated August 6, 2024 — to Utah lawmakers. The report’s authors found that “the consensus of the evidence supports that the treatments are effective in terms of mental health, psychosocial outcomes, and the induction of body changes consistent with the affirmed gender in pediatric GD [gender dysphoria] patients.”

The authors added that “the evidence also supports that the treatments are safe in terms of changes to bone density, cardiovascular risk factors, metabolic changes, and cancer.” Trans youth who had received gender-affirming care were within the bounds of normal, non-pathological ranges for these conditions.

y’all this is huge. please don’t “water is wet” all over it! I understand that we all already know this… The point is that the world doesn’t know or care or believe and so these studies really fucking matter!

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

Hey, are you doing okay? Could you write a Transformers: Animated headcanon with Optimus, Bumblebee, and Ratchet being friends with a reader who's super unlucky? Like, they're constantly getting into accidents or being flung across the room, yet somehow they always survive? As if the universe is playing a big prank on them XD

☆ [TFA] BOTS w/ an Extremely Unlucky Reader

i am doing fine anon! thanks for asking, i had a lot of fun writing this request :3 i think a reader with comically bad luck is interesting— each bot would have a very different way on dealing with it. i couldn't stop thinking of 'Wonder Of U' from JoJolion for some reason when i saw this request. reader is a victim of calamity lmao

scenario: your crew is trying to help you despite a few of them thinking you might be cursed. reader is a lot younger than Ratchet, like the rest of the crew.

including: Optimus, Bumblebee, Ratchet

Optimus:

— Optimus isn't really sure what's up with you, or how you even manage it. You're always the first to find a Decepticon, you're the first to get attacked by the Decepticons, you're getting tail-swatted away by Grimlock half the time out of sheer bad luck because that T. Rex doesn't seem to like any of them and you get it the worst.

— Now that he's thinking about it, you get everything the worst. He can't leave you alone for ten minutes. If it's not the Decepticons coming to offline you then its your surroundings. He suspects that you might have the environmental awareness of a rock. But that changes pretty quickly when he realizes you're just that unfortunate.

— One time, you drove into a cement pit and nearly got buried alive with cement if it weren't for Bulkhead interrupting those construction workers. The other time, you wandered into a demolishing ground and almost got flattened by debris. You're like a character from that Earth film Sari watched with Bee… a ‘Final Destination’ protagonist with the way you barely survive your day-to-day life. Optimus doesn't know how a single bot can get so much bad luck, it isn't even funny to him (it is to a certain someone else though). He may or may not be concerned.

— So, Optimus being the leader that he is, puts you under his supervision all the time. You're right where he can see you and nowhere else. But it takes a downhill turn.

— He ends up getting stuck in precarious situations with you. As if your misfortune is communicable and he can tell you don't mean it with the way you're looking at him as if you might explode into tears with absolute frustration. You don't mean for any of this to happen and it makes him feel... bad in a way.

— After being in a lot of near-death situations with you, he's gotten to know you a lot more better now so Optimus is a bit more protective over you and he can tell all of these repeated almost-encounters with Primus has definitely left you paranoid with a pessimistic streak. But hey, Optimus is trying his best to make you feel better and more hopeful about the next fight. Usually with a pep-talk or a pat on your pauldron. He is a bit protective over you, mostly because you seem to have the highest chance of getting dying and he doesn't want to lose a good Autobot.

— Eventually, he decided to keep you in the base at all times because of you being, and i quote, “a walking natural disaster surviving on mere gambles” only for a Decepticon to crash the base when the rest of the crew were out on the very same solarcycle.

— Optimus did this not only because of safety concerns but also because your bad luck is unpredictable; it could either be tripping when you're trying to run or get shot at point blank with a fusion cannon (and somehow miraculously survive). He thinks it's a liability for the team. Optimus is still figuring out how to be a leader here, he's figuring things out just like you are.

— Despite everything that goes down, your wit helps you survive all of these near termination situations that you get thrown into so Optimus is kind of impressed with your quick thinking. If only you weren't cursed with such bad luck, you might’ve made a wonderful addition to the Elite Guard. Or so Optimus thinks. Your case is unfortunate.

— He is definitely hesitant about letting you near Sari way too often when Optimus isn't there to make sure that you don't trigger the end of the universe by just existing. Primus knows what chaos would ensue with you and Sari in the same room.

— Optimus feels bad for you but he isn't sure what he's going to do with you. At all. He eventually realizes that your bad luck is just inevitable and the team has to push through it, especially when you start using your bad luck against the Decepticons.

Bumblebee:

— At first, this mech had absolutely no hesitation about laughing his aft off at every single one of your misfortunes as if there was a reality TV show unfurling in front of him. Bumblebee was borderline insufferable.

— But then, it slowly gets more concerning. Especially after the whole Allspark incident. He still gets a laugh every now and then, don't get him wrong but he may or may not be a teensy bit concerned now.

— Watching you getting flattened after Bulkhead tripped and fell right on top of you was pretty damn funny but at the same time, you being nearly made into molten metal by Blitzwing wasn't exactly something to laugh at. Or the fact that Megatron grabbed you and almost crushed you into bits with a single servo. That was painful to watch.

— Bumblebee feels genuinely sorry for you when Optimus basically grounds you saying that its for your safety and everyone else's safety. Sure you got a lot of bad luck but it can't be that bad!

— So Bee went against the big bot and helps you sneak out of base with Sari. You're not supposed to be around the human but Bumblebee thinks thats scrap!

— Bee pretty much stands up for you when Optimus decides to beach you and you seem clearly upset with it. He may be an aft sometimes but that doesn't mean he is one all the time. Bumblebee just likes cracking way too many jokes than he should.

— Has nominated you, without your consent to be bait to lure in Decepticons. You're a trouble magnet. Bee is pretty sure that if you were kept tied to a post, all the Decepticons in the vicinity would instantly be drawn out to the area. He clarified it was a joke.

— Bumblebee & Sari theorizes that your bad luck might just be your ability. Optimus Prime has his grapples and foam, Ratchet has his EMP burst, Prowl has his ninja skills, Bee has his stinger and Bulk has his ridiculous strength. You don't really seem to have any particularly special abilities.

— At some point, even some of the Decepticons (Blitzwing) notices how particularly unlucky you are and mocks you mid battle because you're stuck under a boulder that seemed to have come from absolutely nowhere. Bee stands up for you and says something like, “HEY, THREE FACE! I’m the only one who gets to make fun of ‘em!”.

— He goes from consistently making fun of your mishaps to "hey, dont take it too hard" after getting closer and closer with you. When he helps you sneak out, the two of you have gotten into a lot of mishaps together and almost died but Optimus doesn't need to know that part.

— Bee is more of a “We can work through your unfortunate circumstances together because I care about you!” type mech than a “I care about you as well as everyone else on the team so I'm going to set you aside so no one gets hurt." like Optimus is initially. So he doesn't really think you should avoid doing something just because you're basically cursed by Primus.

Ratchet:

— Out of all of them all, he probably pities your misfortune the most because he's the one repairing you afterwards.

— You and Ratchet are really close because of your repeated visits to the medbay back when you guys were just a usual Space-Bridge repair crew. You somehow managed to get yourself hurt even in that.

— The fact that you're alive is a medical mystery with the sheer amount of damages your endoskeleton has suffered. He remembers the first time he looked into your internals and his optics practically widened into bulbs. Theres cracks nearly everywhere and it took nearly forever for him to fix them all.

— To make sure he never has to spend cycles soldering and rewiring your frame, Ratchet makes regular check ups on you after a battle. Just to make sure you haven't sustained any damage trigged by your mythical levels of misfortune.

— You're capable, he can clearly see that. Ratchet also makes sure to teach you some basic repairs so that in the situation that you're on the battlefield and your stupid luck nearly gets you offline again, you can pick yourself back up.

— Ratchet can see how disheartened you are when something goes awry during a mission involving you and he isn't the best at comforting you so he just goes "it'll go better next time.". Implying that there will be a next time because you're practically a tenant in his medbay with how often you get injured.

— He's also pretty strict about you resting after a battle because you've sustained the most damage almost all the time. Ratchet wants you to be fully recovered before you go off to have another near-Primus-meeting incident again. But Bee sometimes sneaks you out regardless because you need to have fun! Despite what Ratchet says.

— He's very concerned but hes not really saying a word. Just raising his optical ridge, questioning Bumblebee when he says that you should come along to do something he perceives as reckless. Then he says something real snarky which makes Bee shut up near immediately and regret even suggesting that.

— He's your supportive yet very concerned grouchy grandpa. You're probably the only one who actually listens to some of his stories he talks about while repairing because when you're in the medbay, its usually for a longer time considering the amount of damages you sustain. So you really have nothing better to do.

[shroomyv]

Stop N’ Swap

f!reader X sir Jimmy crystal (one shot…😔)

(I have a huge feeling I’m gonna regret this post later but I’m tired asf rn so idc||also go see this movie is 5/5 in my eyes)

Warning: smut, slight tooth description, spit kink (at some point 😭), sex in dangerous settings?, kinda PWP, may be mischaracterized (I js saw the movie once yesterday pls guys pls), got carried away, not proof read (im sorry bruh)

You tried your best not to make noise—you just couldn’t risk that out here.

But Jimmy just kept moving himself into you. You had always found yourself in these situations when you went out with him and the group. 

“Quick supply hunt, just me and her. We’ll pop in and out.” Those lies constantly slipped out of Jimmy's mouth whenever you joined him on hunts. The others knew by now that “supply hunt with just you and him” meant you two were going to take awhile having “fun”.

He had them stay on zombie watch whilst you two fucked time away.

Anyone in their right mind wouldn’t be doing this—not here, not now. But never once have you seen Jimmy in his right fucking mind, and you clearly loved it if you kept allowing these “quick supply hunts” to happen. Besides—he had people outside keeping watch for any zombies.

And if any came, he could pull himself out of you as quickly as he put himself in you.

“God you're disgusting” you huffed

You always said that yet you continue to let him bounce you up and down on his cock like you needed it to get through the day. He couldn’t care either way.

 He kept smacking his skin against yours was only making it worse. It was the sweet sound you needed to hear daily to satisfy you—the only reason youd come on hunts instead of staying back actually.

“You know, you say that a lot—but you keep coming back again, and again, and again.” He whispered as best as he could.

He loved to tease but he couldn't get too loud. He was struggling to keep his own self quiet with moans and whimpers while teasing you for doing the same thing. He didn’t want either of you caught but god did he love to fuck around.

He was insane, and it was a terrifying turn-on for you. 

Your hands wrapped around his neck for balance like a second necklace for him. You loved latching onto him like he was some sort of tree whenever he had you like this. And god—you loved to climb.

He hit every spot in your pussy just right. He knew his way around your temple—made it easier for him to go quicker. He loved the sound of the squelch from your slick and his precum mixing together.

It just riled him up even more. The noise of your passion got his arousal to hit new peaks everytime.

 You had to do little work—just keep as quiet as you could and sit pretty while he tried his best to get you both off before zombies came.

He was practically trying to melt his hands into your ass—he held onto it for dear life, squeezing at the skin. He enjoyed the warmth of your insides just as much as he loved the warmth of your outsides.

“We gotta get a move on in a few seconds, so you’d best hold on.” Jimmy said “This isn’t the end though—just something to hold you up for now.”

You just nod agreeing to whatever he had to say or wanted because you needed to finish. He had been going too slow for your liking—bothering you on purpose as much as he could to get something out of you…

“Hurry up then.” You murmured.

He slapped his hips into you hard and a moan escaped your lips. He gave you a disgusting smile—smirking at the noise he had gotten out of you.

“Don’t rush—you’ll have your fun. Let’s try to keep quiet while we finish up though?” He teased.

You gave him an annoyed glare, he tried to act like he wasn’t the cause of the noise when he was the reason it happened. 

“You annoying fuck.” You huffed.

“Oh you love it.” He purred—licking at your neck as he enjoyed you shivering on his tongue.

He just kept rushing into you harder like a mad man. You had to keep yourself quiet—he could see you were slipping, you felt it become harder to keep the sounds of pleasure and gratitude from leaving your mouth.

He was gonna make sure to fill you up but you two needed to be alive for him to give you the seconds he promised for later.

“My mouth is a bit lonely, needs company from yours.” He muttered.

You rolled your eyes at his “charisma” but you knew deep inside it was working.

If he wanted to kiss you he could’ve just done it. But he wanted you to do it.

He wasn’t gonna make the move for you, but he suggested it. Besides, he wanted something in return. He was fucking you, all you had to do was kiss him a quick few times to save yourself from making noise.

You were just gonna let him do it, you knew he would eventually like he always did—especially since this time, you two were right on the edge. You could barely hold on as he kept ramming his hips into you faster and faster.

He wasn’t budging like usual this time. He gave you a glare telling you to get on with it but you didn’t. So he sped himself up as he was right near the edge to finish inside of you.

His own breath started to pick up and you still wouldn’t budge. So he’d offer some help to your body to bring your lips to his.

“Here—I’ll give you some motivation don’t worry.” He teased.

His hands gripped at your ass tighter, pulling at the skin like it was dough being molded. You felt yourself coming apart as he finally brought you to the edge.

You two were about to make noise—get yourselves killed just for a quick bit of action.

Luckily—something in your brain finally clicked as your mouth snapped shut onto his. You both sucking onto each others tongue like it needed to be tied together.

He held you tighter to him—he just couldn’t let go so long as your lips were locked to his. His mouth was absolutely filthy—someone who was so against filth like yourself should’ve been disgusted by him.

But your mouth found comfort in his—you loved every bit of it.

Because you knew that only your tongue could stay in his mouth. His mouth was only yours to swap spit with.

“God-“ Jimmy groaned, just out of the side of his mouth before you to kept it up

Your hand latched onto cheek squishing at it tight. You kept him in his clutches as your tongue just kept going deeper. You already knew your way around his mouth—but you loved to act like you didn’t just to keep your lips latched to his. Once he got you started you usually never stopped. But you were in hiding this time—you were out in the open with zombies lurking.

You wanted to keep it up forever but you knew you two had to end it off. Your tongue prepared to depart from his as you and him shared much saliva as you could with each other.

It was like your brain had left the room for a second and let arousal take over control of your tongue for a second.

Right before you pulled away from his mouth—you grazed your tongue over his teeth, like there was something on them that only your tongue could clean.

You finally pulled away from his face—though your lips had departed from each other a line of spit kept them connected in a way before you finally wiped it off.

“Your mouth is fucking disgusting, jimmy.” You were absolutely right.

“Yet yours always finds a way back to it.” He said “it’s like a routine at this point.” He was absolutely right about that part too—you hated when he was right in these moments.

“I’m well aware” you groaned.

He basked in your complaints like they were compliments. He knew you didn’t mean it—and even if you did, you were right back to swapping spit the next day or next second.

He helped you off of him as best as he could before your feet hit the ground to pull up your pants.

“Are you gonna swap more with me later when we pick this back up? I can fill you up there better than I did here.” He spoke as he was fixing himself up.

“I’ll consider it.” You knew just as well as he did that you were just gonna say yes.

He just gave you a toothy grin—flashing the yellow of them at you. You loved every bit of filth in that smile. It was like a perfect defect in your eyes.

You saying “I’ll consider.”, was an automatic yes in his mind because that’s what it always turned out to be. Besides, he wanted to keep swapping with you.

He’d swap his seed—you’d swap your saliva. 

Fair trade in his eyes—and in yours as well.

[kuumara]

(this post is abt byler! EVERYTHING IS INTENTIONAL EVEN THE SMALLEST STUFF)

This year ive been directing a school movie and let me tell u, we spent 6 or 7 months just figuring out EVERY detail, in script and camera work and then composition so EVERYTHING IN A SHOW/MOVIE IS INTENTIONAL!!!

Like there cant be ANY unnecesaary lines or shots or scenes that dont end up being useful to the story and our mentor (a producer) was very insistent on that

Then when we started filming the shots had to be perfect, like we spent at least 30mins to set up the lightz

And then more time constantly redoing shots making sure the actors do the EXPRESSIONS right and the tone of the lines and allat SO..

No, finn wolfhard doesnt just have some crazy crush on noah and he didnt speak in that tone just cause

No, their nice romantic lights didnt just die here and they had to use the ugliest ones imaginable (also noah couldve simply WENT ON BREAK while they were filming this if they didnt want him in THE love confession of THE couple)

No, they didnt make finn CRUMPLE UP BOTH OF EL'S LETTER TO MIKE because they wanted to go on lunch break already and didnt care (+ literally showing a shot of mike throwing the second letter in the TRASH. Like, a shot only for that. Even such a simple shot would require multiple takes.)

No, they didnt unknowingly do an interruption trope MANY TIMES with mike and will... And yes, they do know that trope is used for romance scenes if they dont live under a rock... (Cant put more examples because image limit but ykwim)

Oh my god this scene... Why would they let finn to do all these flirty faces if it wasnt something deeper (they made noah do all that for a reason as is confirmed - but FINN WAS DOING BASICALLY THE SAME THING). He NEVER does this even with el, let alone check her out. Also why would there be such an emphasis on "friends... best friends🥹🥹🥹" if they were actually friends - we KNOW they're friends - unless theyre not just friends 😮😮 thats not something you do if you've done 3 seasons of such a popular well-regarded show with good writing

And then this - if you go outside regularly you know natural light dont look like that, esp not for the whole time of filming a long scene like this. So, why would they put so much effort into another heart to heart with mike and will, but completely give up on THE LITERAL LOVE CONFESSION OF THE LITERAL MAIN COUPLE. Just looking at this scene you can see it's warm, inviting, even if what they're talking about here isnt that at all. So what do u feel when u look at the mileven love confession? Exactly bruh it's the complete opposite

And last but not least, the final scene - what we are MEANT TO BE LEFT WITH and probably the most important, in the school movie we were discussing and directing the end scene with most care

So, obviously mike and will's breath is synced which CANT BE A COINCIDENCE only because if you want breathing to be seen on camera u have to breathe pretty deeply but the characters are supposed to be scared so thats obvious, but they also chose to make them breathe in sync... If they didnt want people to read into it they WOULD RE SHOOT IT bc personally it was very visible when i first saw the scene and i was like hmm🤔

So just this 3second clip was very planned out and if that dont convince you everything is planned idk what will. Oh also the very obvious blocking of all the couples at the very end AND MIKE AND WILL IN THE MIDDLE - MEANT to draw your attention to them, along with el standing alone, again in the middle

[butchpeace]

1. You’re right, the 80% figure was from an old study that didn’t differentiate between those two things. But if you really think they’re correctly differentiating between “true trans” and gender nonconforming kids now, you’re way too naive.

2. If trans people have “literally always been here”, and being trans isn’t influenced by the way cultural norms affect psychology, why have we seen a massive increase in trans identification in young females? Why do I repeatedly hear from young people that they have tons of other kids (mostly girls) identifying as trans in their school class?

Are you of the opinion that there are “fake trans people” and “true trans people”? Interesting if so, considering implying that anyone isn’t “valid” would get you labeled instantly as a terf.

3. Of course every medication has risks. But in a responsible medical system, those risks are constantly being assessed, and treatment with the drug in question is always subject to reassessment and the entire use of that drug could be discontinued when the harm outweighs the benefit. I can see that happening within a few years for testosterone use in females, because there’s new research coming out, and none of it looks good.

But really l’m done with trying to convince people this is bad for us. It’s just common fucking sense that a woman shooting up high doses of testosterone for years on end isn’t going to have good health over the long run.

And can you think of any other case where medications that are understood to be very obviously harmful (to anyone with a developed adult brain) are used on people with a mental illness? Is there any other situation that’s even remotely similar to attempting to physically change someone’s sex in response to them being psychologically distressed? And in situations where the reason for the distress isn’t properly diagnosed and treated?

4. Are you not aware of the informed consent system in the US? For about a decade now, the situation has been that anyone can walk into a gender clinic, have a short meeting with a therapist, and be put on hormones within 2 weeks.

Puberty blockers and hormones for minors have had slightly more obstacles to access, but don’t you think that’s necessary considering the fact that we’re talking about children?

Kids don’t even remember what they ate for dinner the previous week, they’re extremely suggestible because they’re still making sense of the world, and they’re not mentally or emotionally mature enough to process what they’re feeling the way an adult does.

If an adult tells a kid that if they like pink and princesses and wearing dresses, maybe they’re a girl, and starts treating the kid like a girl, what do you think is going to happen in that kid’s brain?

You’ve studied psychology — Do you genuinely think the kid would say “No I’m a boy, I just like feminine things because I’m gay!” We’re talking about pre-pubertal children here. Kids believe what their parents tell them.

If you think it should be easy for any kid to go to a doctor and get put on blockers…I hope you never have children, because you have no idea what children even are, let alone what’s best for their health and happiness.

And in fact, it has been shown that the vast majority of kids who are going through those treatments are same-sex attracted. They quite literally are shooting up gay kids with blockers and hormones, over a supposed condition that no one can scientifically prove even exists.

Even if being “true trans” is real, there are still kids who aren’t trans who are being transitioned at young ages. I know because I’m friends with them. Most consider what happened to them to be a form of child abuse, or medical abuse of a minor that should be illegal. Many of them have lasting health issues caused by blockers and hormones, and the psychological trauma they go through from having these changes happen to them at such a young age is typically immense.

This is a major fucking catastrophe, and if you don’t think something needs to change in order to mitigate that harm, I have nothing else to say to you.

[aroace-insert-reader]

hey! I've been craving a idea... Could you write a hurt/comfort for Bakugo with a retiredpro!reader who got put out of commission and months/years later she turned from a happy, playful girl to an angry, isolated person? And Bakugo finds her?

Hey! I'm here to ABSOLUTELY BEG FOR YOUR FORGIVENESS 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ I made this blog and then was promptly completely sucked into the chaos that was my senior year of high school and had no time at all to do anything creative. I can't even remember when you sent this in but I know it's been sitting in my drafts since LAST YEAR. So so sorry. I'm finally completely done with high school and will hopefully have a little time to do some other things. I hope this is enjoyable enough to make up for the long wait 🤍

Pro-Hero Bakugou x Retired Pro Hero Reader

**all pairings on this blog are platonic**

(non-detailed spoilers for the manga ending)

Despite everything, UA was everything you could have wanted.

You enjoyed your classes. You loved your friends. You wanted to learn how to save people.

Sure, your first year and a half was a mess. Fighting for your lives and for everyone around you. It was terrifying, but you guys won. Not without losses and injuries and lots of things that needed to be rebuilt. But you did it.

Which is why it hurt so fucking much to be where you are now.

You helped defeat the most infamous villains in recent history at fucking fifteen years old.

And now you can barely leave your apartment.

Injuries aren't anything unfamiliar to heroes. Especially not to you and your classmates. Close calls, hospital beds, and physical therapy, could almost be considered close friends.

But you've always gotten better.

"I'm sorry, (name). It might be more reasonable to consider a career change."

The words echoed in your head.

"...consider a career change."

consider.

Like they gave you a choice.

As soon as your agency heard about the extent of your injuries, they very politely let you know that they couldn't keep a hero that would be out of commission for more than 6 months on payroll and promptly kicked you to the curb.

It was a underground mission gone wrong.

One day you were a hero, the next you weren't.

And aside from some small news outlets and gossip blogs debating the cause of your disappearance, the world moved on.

Sure, you still technically have a license.

But that doesn't do you much good when you can barely hobble to your job as a barista. (You know, the one that you had to get because you now have no income.)

You haven't spoken to anyone since the mission.

Your phone got busted and you got a new number and you couldn't really stomach putting in the numbers of everyone else out there living your dream.

Hell, you're pretty sure Todoroki just made the top three.

You know it isn't fair to your old friends.

But at this point, you're not really sure that you can be friends with them anymore.

You can't laugh or smile or joke around.

You can't be the life of the party.

You didn't die in that mission, but it sure feels like some part of you did.

You're not really sure that their friend still exists...

"--Are you even listening to me?! I swear people these days! The disrespect!" The woman standing in front of you startles you out of your thoughts.

"I apologize ma'am," you plaster on your best professional smile. (The one that used to be for scared kids and victims of terrifying crimes or accidents. The one that used to be for something good.)

(Now all it's good for is keeping face while you're being yelled at.)

"Can I offer you a free dessert to make up for this inconvenience?" You really hope that the offer is enough to placate her. It's almost closing and you just want to get home.

"You think a cheap cookie is enough to keep your job?! Do you know who I am?! I--"

"--I sure as hell don't," a way too familiar gruff voice cut in.

Shit.

"Look, spout all you want about 'people these days and their disrespect' but yelling at some poor underpaid worker definitely isn't the picture of 'loving thy neighbor' or whatever. Besides, I want to get my coffee and go home. I have had a rather long day. You know, chasing villains around Tokyo." Bakugou pulled down his face mask and let the realization of just who was scolding her set in.

The woman at the counter flushed red and started spluttering before finally giving up and storming out the shop's door.

"Sorry about that, people can be such dicks. Anyways can I have a-" Bakugou cut off when he finally turned to look at you. Eyes wide he exclaimed, "(Name)? The fuck are you doing here?! We all thought you died! You couldn't think to send a text?!"

You don't want to do this right now.

You so don't want to do this right now.

"Can I take your order?"

"No, No! You are not getting out of this that easy. We mourned you, you asshole! Your agency didn't say jack shit about where you were and you never responded to any calls or messages. You fucking moved! What else were we supposed to think!"

With every word that flew out of his mouth you could feel your blood boiling and hear it rushing between your ears.

What gave him the right?

Before you knew it, words were flying out of your mouth too.

"No! No! You don't get to yell at me! My agency didn't say 'jack shit' because they want nothing to do with me anymore! They kicked me to the curb after my last mission! I moved because I couldn't afford my fucking apartment! My phone got busted so I couldn't reply and excuse fucking me for not wanting to hang around my old friends, the friends that are living my fucking dream, while I'm barely getting by as if we didn't save the world when we were fifteen!"

By the time you finished you were out of breath and half the coffee shop was staring at you. The other half were pretending not to.

"(Name), why don't you take the rest of the day off and sort this out outside?" Your manager suggested gently.

"Whatever." You didn't have the energy to argue.

Bakugou stared holes in the back of your head as you pulled off your apron and limped over to put it away.

When you were done he lightly grabbed the crook of your elbow and helped you outside. Tucked away from prying eyes. After that show in your work, you couldn't do anything but let him.

"... (name)? Why didn't you tell us?" He asked softly. He sounded... hurt. "We... we would have helped you. Any of us would have. Did you really not trust us enough to help you with this?"

That wasn't it.

That really wasn't it.

Of course you trusted your friends.

Of course they would have helped you.

Its just...

You were ashamed.

Ashamed of being a fuckup.

Ashamed of being fired.

Ashamed of failing the mission.

And afraid that your friends would see what a wreck you really were underneath that happy bubbly friendly exterior.

And afraid that that happy bubbly friendly person that they all knew might have really died that day.

You can't stop the sobs that crawl up your throat.

And bakugou leans over and holds you tight while you babble through explanations.

A friendly shoulder to cry on.

-----

Later that evening you're tucked tight into a booth with the self-proclaimed bakusquad.

They hold you tight.

And shed a few tears of their own.

Then you share drinks and food and boisterous laughter (even if yours is a little tired and strained).

You head back to your apartment with fresh contacts for old friends in your new phone, an offer for a consulting position with shinsous weird undergrounder association thing, and love for your friends tucked back around your aching heart.

You're still angry at your agency.

And you're still hurt.

But maybe...

Maybe you don't have to be upset alone.