#how to explain to my parents hey don’t do that!

[birdy-bird27]

Not me catching my parents trying out ai images 😭😭 I had to step away for a moment without blowing up and going on a long winded passionate rant

[ontologicalmoki]

unsolicited parenting advice of the day tell your kids what to expect! If your two year old is anxious about when dad is going to get home from work, teach him to recognize what patterns indicate that dad is coming home soon! After lunch we will do an activity and then clean and THEN dad will get home. Listen when the calendar day starts with an S dad does not have to go to work!!

and if something goes wrong and today does NOT go according to the plan your little guy expects, tell him!! Hey, dad has to go to work after all today, but he will be home after lunch! Today dad has to get groceries after work, so he’ll be home later than normal. But he will return with more bananas! Focus on the positives too, give them things they can understand. Don’t just say “not today,” they understand the concept of grocery stores and unexpected trips. Just tell them the problem. You’d hate being in the dark about everything that happens to you also. Let them control their situation, even if it’s just their own emotions and expectations.

or even! Teach them to read an analogue clock! Let me tell you, church nursery in the 1.5-3.5 age group got so much less stressful and anxious for EVERYONE when I taught my kids how to read the clock. They don’t have to ask me anymore how much time is left and fish for answers I can’t give them. They know that their guardians will come for them when the long stripe on the clock touches the 2, and that if they aren’t there then then they’re LATE and they get to hold this over their parents head. Because they know their parents can be late. And they LOVE knowing when this has occurred. There is so much less anxiety.

anyway explain stuff to your kids, they want to know. This has been an unsolicited parenting advice PSA

[lizardho]

I came out to my dad as bisexual at 14 and I was PANICKED because I had a crush on a guy in my Boy Scout troop and thought I was Going To Hell Forever and he was so kind and understanding of my distress, but he had NO idea what bisexuality was. He just said “yeah but you like girls too? This is normal. Everyone is like this.” And I love my dad and trust him with my life to this day and the idea that the concept of bisexuality had not occurred to him had not occurred to me so I put it off.

By 16 though I had a crush on like THREE boys. Three entire boys in my Boy Scout troop. I felt like my sin was slowly advancing, until like an untreated cancer it had become metastatic. I remember bawling my L’il limp-wristed sissy eyes out in his big rumbly truck on the way home from a scout meeting and him telling me that it was OK, that he still loved me if I was gay, but that he knew I wasn’t gay because I still had crushes on women and that meant I was straight. I didn’t quite know how to explain that those felt *~*different*~* and that I felt like I was losing a fight to evil inside me but I again felt comforted by his reassurances and his genuine fatherly love.

At 18 I was like “hey I’m realizing all my friends are going on missions. I don’t wanna do that. Idk how to say that and I don’t have a ‘good enough’ reason to not wanna go.” So I just put it off. Again, my parents were extremely supportive of the information I gave them (I blamed it on perpetually forgetting to start the paperwork.) and one day my mom texted me that she had done the paperwork for me! And that all I needed was to get a physical! So I did that (it was awkward af tbh, my hernia check was done by a trainee doctor and she spent like 3 minutes fishing around my inguinal canals before her attending rescued me) and was sent to Mexico City where I learned that in addition to dipshit himbos with strong hands and scruffy guys with artistic hearts I was REALLY into chubby Latin men with strong personalities who bullied me a little when I lived in Mexico.

I remember my first companion got annoyed with me during an argument and said we were just gonna wrestle and whoever won the wrestling match won the argument (I stg I am dead serious this happened.) I was like…SWEATING when he tore off his tie and threw his white button-down shirt onto the ground (I won btw, don’t ask me how).

I remember one of my companions with this really intense, almost manic energy telling me that he was gonna make sure I was safe in a new area I didn’t know very well. He cooked breakfast for me and we’d go shopping together on P-Days and in the mornings before breakfast he’d jog around and do pull-ups with his shirt off and I’d do anything but look at him because my face would break out in a sweat so intense he’d think I was crying and come over to see if I was OK and somehow make it worse. He let me play D&D with myself in the evenings even though it was against mission rules because he knew how lonely and stressed I was.

I remember one of my companions was a big chubby man with a loud voice and a great sense of humor. He was kind and direct when addressing conflicts with me, and always bragged about how he knew the secrets of women’s minds and it felt like he really did since it almost always boiled down to “Treat Them Like People and Love Them a Lot. Don’t Stop Being A Person For Them. Also Eat Them Out Sloppy Style.” Our P-Day activities sometimes felt like dates, and it seemed like he was more attentive to my emotional state than I was since he was always the first to suggest we slow down our Divinely Mandated, God-Ordained, Super Sacred Work and Wonder to get a snack or check out a Pawn Shop (I love Pawn Shops).

I remember another companion who asked me to bully him every time he did something against his goal of losing weight. It was like he gave me Carte Blanche to take out my crush on him by being a nuisance and I LOVED that. I remember having a breakdown one day after we’d spent the afternoon frantically cleaning our disgusting-barely-habitable mission house to make it look less vile that it was (not our fault imo?) and I started bawling and he pulled me into a hug and he smelled good and he told me he knew it wasn’t just the house and that I was mad at him for being a Huge Dickhead for about a week (true) and that he would work on it. (He’s also a huge chaser but that’s a separate thing.)

I remember one of my companions waking up early (and our schedule is already built for sleep deprivation) to make me a “birthday cake” from knock-off Nutella and bread. He used matches for candles and woke me up, lit the ‘candles,’ pulled them out, then smashed it in my face and took a bunch of pictures while I was still madrugada and disoriented as fuck. He had the same sense of humor as one of my HS crushes and I could push his buttons pretty easily which was so fun.

I came home from my mission and started back at BYU where I became actively and aggressively suicidal. I had a stalker the year I moved up there and my dad’s solution to that was to get me a gun. I know he wouldn’t have bought me a gun if he could have read my mind, but I had a loaded pistol under my bed during a trifecta faith/sexuality/gender crisis and that was not helpful. I remember that the day I decided to kill myself I figured I’d call the BYU CAPS and see if I could get into therapy because it felt like what I was “supposed to do” so I could check my suicide boxes. My therapist was the guy who’d helped me pick a major the year before and was this drop-dead gorgeous Hawaiian man who cried when I told him how I’d been feeling.

A few weeks into therapy I met another stunning man with soft eyes and a scruffy illegal-at-BYU beard he kept pushing his luck with. He was funny, kind, patient, married, and wouldn’t give me the time of day if he knew I was crushing on him. We were in my history of psych class, which was inarguably the worst psych class I have ever had, and we studied together for every assignment and test and I realized that my feelings for him and for all the men I’d already mentioned were in direct conflict with my faith and relationship with God. My already agonizing spiritual conflict became even more wretched and as a result of this plus some other tightly-packed experiences with Mormonisms bullshit, I left the church.

After leaving the church I decided to move back to AZ and transfer to ASU. My mom helped me get a dog since I think it had started to dawn on my family that my mental health was barely getting me through the day, and she knew that we both loved dogs. Madi made my last year at BYU livable while I got my shit together and transferred. In that last year, I went on a date with quite possibly the only semi-openly-out trans person on BYU campus. It was not a great date imo, I was not doing well, but the person I spoke with was fun and fascinating and talked to me about Gender Dysphoria and it really cemented my need to go. To leave and never come back to that fucking school.

I started at ASU a month after my last semester at BYU and within a very short time frame it felt like I was coming back together, like a puzzle magically putting itself together in an environment that wasn’t slowly draining that puzzle’s will to live.

On the 4th of July, the year I started at ASU, I saw a transition timeline photo of a gorgeous happy beautiful happy radiant happy woman and her former Mormon missionary self and I realized the light that was on in her eyes was the light that was off in mine. I looked into transitioning for 3 days, sleeping about 10 hours total during that time. I started talking to other trans people on Reddit (one of whom is now my beautiful fiancée @cintailed) and after about a month of making preparations to be disowned and kicked out, something I was not sure would happen but was ready to go through to Turn On The Lights, I came out to my family and it was amazing. I started HRT a month after that. I secretly dated some dorky guys for about a year while I applied to grad schools. I got into a great grad school for me and my needs. I got FFS. I did my trainings and classes. Me and my fiancée moved in together after some LDR shenanigans. We’ve lived together now for 4 years of basically marital bliss. We have a cat named Grandmother Esmeralda Weatherwax who bites the hell out of my feet about three times a day. My bi-cycle continues to be part of my life but now it’s not as scary. Baby gays in my life have started to look to me for advice. Idk how this all happened so fast. When the years, months, weeks, days, and hours seems to crawl by so slowly now they are rushing past me so fast it’s almost bewildering. Whereas before I felt like I was living on borrowed time, past my ‘expiration date,’ now it feels like I can Fucking Breathe. I’m training myself to slow down now and it feels worth it to Live In The Moment.

Idk why I wrote this. Idk why these thoughts only seem to come up on Sundays when I’m supposed to be writing my dissertation. Idk why I’m crying rn or why I feel so happy. I’m gonna post this shit then get on with my dissertation I guess. Read more Terry Pratchett and give yourselves the time you need. Get a pet. Talk to someone. Re-examine the events that brought you here. Be gayer. Love y’all 💕

[anylady-fics]

First | Mingi x F Reader

Cross posted on ao3

Summary: You just wanted to lose your virginity—no drama, no strings attached. What you didn’t expect was for your friend Mingi to make it that good. One wild night, a lot of firsts, and maybe… just maybe, a reason to do it all over again.

WC: 10.5k

⚠️ warnings: smut, first times, virgin!reader, oral sex (f/m), vaginal sex, dry humping, dirty talk, praise kink, voice kink (kinda), big dick Mingi (canon, right?)

An: sorry about the wc, I just really like Mingi 🫠

Ⴡ Masterlist

You got dumped again. Yeah, seriously. At this point, it was getting old. But no matter how frustrating it was, you knew exactly what the problem was, and it wasn’t something you could just fix overnight.

You were… inexperienced.

Going to college after a lifetime of being smothered by overprotective parents meant they had successfully sent you off as a virgin. And for a while, that was fine. It wasn’t a big deal—until people started acting like you were some kind of loser just because you hadn’t fucked anyone yet.

And the guys? Every single one you tried dating was the same. Either they wanted to get into your pants before the first drink was even finished, or they pretended to be patient—like they weren’t just waiting for the moment you’d cave. You might be inexperienced, but you weren’t stupid. And as much as you wanted to get it over with, you couldn’t do it with just anyone.

But after getting dumped for the third time in two months, you decided to do something about it. Something had to change. You wished you’d just handled it back in high school like everyone else, but that ship had sailed.

Your friends told you to just ask one of your guy friends to help you out. Which sounded easy enough… until you actually pictured doing it, and embarrassment nearly killed you on the spot.

Still, if you wanted to lose your virginity, your options were limited. The random guys you’d been trying to date were too impatient, too pushy, and way too stupid.

Which meant your only real option was actually asking a friend. But which one? 

You had a few options, but you needed someone who wouldn’t laugh in your face or make things weird. Someone who’d get that this was just a favor, not a relationship.

Okay. That made things a little easier.

Maybe Mingi? You’d been friends for years, you went to the same college now, and he was definitely experienced enough to help. Plus, he already knew you were a virgin, so at least you wouldn’t have to explain that part.

But how were you supposed to ask him?

Like… “Hey, I need someone to fuck me so I can finally lose my virginity and date like a normal person”?

Yeah. That didn’t sound awkward at all. Well, you would have to try. Maybe it would be less awkward if you could text him…

You: Hey! You good? Look… I kinda need to talk to you about something. 

Mingi: Hey, pretty. Long time since we talked, wanna hang out at that coffee place you like? 

You: Sure, we can meet there after class. Byeee, see ya.

Well, if you couldn’t even type the question, saying it out loud was going to be a nightmare. But you had to try. No backing out now.

After class, you went straight to the coffee shop and ordered your usual before Mingi arrived. The second you saw him walk through the door, your stomach dropped, a cold, nervous, oh-god-what-am-I-doing panic settling in. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“Hey! Still buried in your books, nerd?”

“Yeah, and it’s been causing me some problems.” Mainly the one you were about to dump on him. “What about you? Still hitting up every party?”

“Not as much. Kinda got tired of it.”

That… was a surprise.

“Oh. Right.”

He ordered his drink, then leaned on the table, watching you. “So… what did you wanna talk about?”

Okay. You can do it.

“Uh… so… I don’t even know how to say this, Mingi.” You took a slow sip of your way too large Americano, trying to find the right words. “I mean, it might be a lot to ask, but I’m kinda out of options.”

He tilted his head, waiting.

“I got dumped again yesterday. And look, I know these guys are assholes and not worth my time, but it keeps happening because I’m a virgin. And I feel like… it’s really getting in my way, you know?”

“Uh… I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t.” You groaned, shifting in your seat. “Okay, what I’m asking… it’s just a favor, that’s all. I really want to lose my virginity, and I really don’t want it to be with those idiots I’ve been dating.”

Mingi blinked. Then blinked again.

“You’re asking me… to take your virginity?” His eyebrows shot up, his expression somewhere between shock and did I hear that right? “…Is that what’s happening here?”

“Yeah… I mean…” You trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.

Mingi still looked shocked, but you could tell—this whole situation was doing wonders for his already massive ego.

“I gotta ask… why me?” He leaned back slightly, arms crossed, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “You have a few friends.”

You sighed.

“You already know I’m a virgin. And you also know I’m not an idiot.” You glanced down at your drink, feeling your face heat up. “We’ve been friends for years, and I don’t know… I trust you.”

Mingi didn’t say anything right away, and the silence made your stomach twist.

“But if this is too much,” you added quickly, forcing a laugh, “just forget I ever said anything. And then I’ll dig a hole in the ground and hide from you for the rest of my life.”

“Relax, I was just curious,” Mingi said, holding back a grin. “Of course, I can help you with that. I think any guy in the world would.” 

You rolled your eyes. His ego was thriving.

“But,” he continued, tilting his head again, making that cute puppy face at you “I gotta ask… how far have you actually gone?”

You exhaled sharply. Alright. You can do this. You weren’t exactly the type to chat about your sex life—or lack thereof—but considering you’d just asked Mingi to take your virginity, honesty was kinda mandatory at this point.

“Huh… I…”

“Oral? Fingering?” He had zero shame. Which, good for him. Terrible for you.

You cleared your throat.

“No. And… yes.”

“And did you ever… you know, finish from it?”

“Nope. Only by myself.”

That bit of information seemed to stir something in him. His expression flickered between offended and genuinely shocked.

“Damn. So the guys were really that bad, huh?” He shook his head, exhaling like this was personally upsetting. “Yeah, okay. We’re definitely not jumping straight to it, that’d be traumatizing.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you suggesting…?”

“That we take it step by step.” He leaned in slightly, voice a little lower, a little slower. “I can’t just… do it. I mean, it’s already a painful experience for most girls, and it’d be a hell of a lot easier for you if we… prepped first.”

You were already blushing because of his lower voice. It got worse.

“Oh…OH…”

“Yeah. Well, that’s my one condition if I’m gonna help you.”

“Okay… I guess.” You swallowed, fingers tightening around your cup. “So, uh… when do we start?”

Mingi shrugged, finishing his coffee.

“You can come over tonight if you want. My roommate’s out.”

He set his cup down and looked at you expectantly. You, on the other hand, were frozen.

That soon? 

You did want to get this over with. But you’d kinda imagined having some time to mentally prepare. Then again… maybe not thinking too much about it was the better option. If you gave yourself too much time, you might just chicken out entirely.

“Okay. So…”

“We can go now,” Mingi said, already standing up. “It’s getting dark anyway.” He waited for you to do the same, then tilted his head before asking you. “You’re really sure about this?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I can ask you to stop anytime, right?”

“Of course.”

You nodded, but your mind was already spinning. You couldn’t stop thinking about what you were about to do—and who you were about to do it with. But the truth was, you had no idea what was actually going to happen. Mingi had been clear, this wasn’t going to be just jumping into it.

So… were you two just going to make out and see where it led?

Jesus. Just thinking about that made your stomach flip.

You hadn’t really considered how weird this could get, but for some reason, you still felt safe about it. Mingi was a lot of things, kind of a fuckboy, sure, but he wasn’t a liar. If something felt off, he’d tell you. You just knew that.

As soon as you got to his place, Mingi gestured for you to sit on the couch before heading to the kitchen. A moment later, he came back with two cans of beer, handing you one. The silence was already killing you.

“Drink,” he said, popping open his can. “Might help you relax. You’re really tense.”

“Yeah, I am… thanks.” You exhaled, cracking yours open. “I was just about to ask for one.”

Mingi smirked before sinking into the couch beside you. “So… tell me more about these guys you dated. They’re really dumping you just because you’re a virgin?”

“Yeah… I mean, they always try to get in my pants, and when I don’t let them, they just… lose interest.” You shrugged, taking a sip. “I don’t even always tell them I’m a virgin. I don’t need that getting around and people making fun of me, you know? So I just let them assume I’m, like, frigid or something.”

“They’re just assholes.” He paused, tilting his head. “But, like… your virginity… it’s not something important to you?”

“Not exactly…” You sighed, swirling the beer in your can. “I just wish I’d gotten over it when I was younger, like all my friends did. But you know my parents.”

Mingi nodded. He definitely knew.

“I just couldn’t do it with some random guy,” you continued. “That would’ve been awful.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, watching you. “I get that.”

“And I know you’re very experienced, so…”

Mingi chuckled, finishing off his beer and setting the empty can on the coffee table.

“I wouldn’t say very… Just… enough.”

Oh. His voice. The way he looked at you.

There it was.

That shift in the air, the kind of tension you could feel settling between you. You took a slow, deep breath, then placed your empty can next to his.

“If you say so…”

“So… whenever you’re ready, pretty.”

Your stomach flipped again.

“Can we… kiss?”

Mingi’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. That’d be a great start. I told you… I wanna take things slow.”

You were already sitting close, so all it took was him leaning in, a slight tilt of his head, a shift in the air between you. You mirrored him, your breath catching just before your lips met.

Soft. Damn, his lips were soft… and so plump.

So far, nothing too unfamiliar. You let yourself ease into it, testing the feel of him. But then his tongue brushed over your lips before slipping into your mouth, meeting yours in a slow, teasing slide. And that… that sent a rush of heat straight through you.

In just seconds, that shy kiss turned into something messy, wet, hot, needy. Damn it. You could feel the effect between your legs, heat pooling inside your panties. And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Mingi chuckled, that deep, lazy sound vibrating against your skin as he trailed kisses down your chin, your neck. 

“How you feeling?” he murmured against your throat, his voice low, teasing.

“G-good…”

His lips curved against your skin. “Hm… you’re pressing your thighs together.” Another kiss, right under your jaw. “Already horny?”

God. You swallowed hard. Why were you suddenly so shy?

“Uh… yes.” 

Mingi hummed like he expected that answer. 

“Ever dry-humped someone before?”

“No… never.”

Another smirk, he was such a tease… and then, two slow taps against his thigh.

“Come here. Sit on my lap.”

You hesitated for half a second before obeying, standing up just to settle yourself over him. His thighs… fuck. Thick. Comfortable. Solid under you. And even through his jeans, you could feel him. He was hard, very. 

“Good girl.” Those words hit you in a very specific way…

Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as you kissed him again. Embarrassment still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind, but it was quickly drowned out by the heat pooling deep in your core. You let your body take over, responding to him—the kissing, the touching… the way his big hands gripped your waist, strong and steady.

“Come on, baby. Grind on me.”

Oh, fuck.

You felt those words straight between your legs, a sharp pulse of need making you clench so hard you whimpered against his lips.

Mingi groaned, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, guiding you into motion, urging you to move against him. Against his hard cock pressing through his jeans. Against his thick thighs.

“Just like that…” The delicious friction sent sparks up your spine, and soon enough, you were moving all on your own, chasing more of it. “Don’t stop.”

“Mingi… fuck!”

You ground down harder, a little faster, just enough to push you right over the edge. The orgasm hit you in waves, leaving you shivering and whimpering in his lap as his hands held you steady. He murmured soft praises, his voice thick with something dangerous, something that made your toes curl. Wow, that was really fast.

And all you could think was: Holy shit! You just had the best orgasm of your life. From grinding on your friend. And you didn’t know how you were supposed to feel about that, but you were just fine for now.

“So… was it good?” Mingi chuckled against your neck, his lips trailing soft, teasing kisses back up to your mouth. “You good?”

“Yeah, but… I feel… uh…” You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, to think. “I don’t know. I just came, but I’m still…”

Needy. You didn’t have to say.

His lips curled into a smirk, and you didn’t even know you like that pretty face of him that much.  

“We can keep going if you want to.”

“What would be the next step? Since you wanna take things slow.”

“Hm…” He tilted his head, considering. “Maybe I can make you feel good with my fingers. If you’re okay with that.”

Your brain short-circuited for a second. Because fuck. Your panties were soaked, embarrassingly wet just from kissing and grinding against him. But you were still throbbing, still desperate for more.

So you just… nodded. 

 “Yeah… it’s fine.”

Still perched on his lap, you hesitated before shifting off him, kneeling on the couch beside him. Your legs felt shaky, but not from exhaustion, no. It was pure anticipation.

Mingi followed, sliding down to kneel on the floor in front of you, his eyes dark and hungry as he leaned in.

“You want me to take your shorts off, or you wanna do it yourself?” He murmured the words against your lips, stealing a quick peck before trailing his fingers down to the waistband of your shorts.

“Y-you can do it…”

His touch was slow, deliberate, as he unbuttoned your shorts and slid them down, pushing them aside like they were nothing.

Then, his hands settled on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Wanna keep the panties on?” His voice was low, husky. “I can still make you feel good like this, if you’re not ready to take them off.”

You should’ve been embarrassed. Should’ve felt shy about the way he was staring at you, at your pussy, taking in the obvious wet stain darkening the fabric.

But you weren’t.

Because he looked wrecked just from seeing you like this. And you loved that, really turned you on even more.

“...It’s okay,” you whispered. “You can take them off too. I mean… there’s no point feeling shy now, right?” Your breath hitched. “You’re gonna see my pussy anyway…”

“Hm…” He chuckled at your words, fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. “So… you told me you’ve been fingered before, right? How was it for you?”

You hesitated for a second before exhaling, remembering the times you let that happen.

“It was always rushed. Like… in the backseat of a car, or some dark corner in a club. Sometimes it just felt uncomfortable. Sometimes a little painful…”

Mingi hummed, his fingers slipping lower, tracing light patterns over the fabric.

“So has anyone actually seen this pretty pussy, baby?” His voice had dropped, thick with something you couldn’t quite name. “Am I really the first?”

Your breath hitched as he hooked his fingers under the elastic, dragging your panties down slowly, revealing your mound first, then the rest as you lifted your hips just enough to help him.

“Yes… you are.”

“Fuck.” His exhale was heavy, like he was struggling. His hands smoothed over your bare thighs, slow and teasing, while you instinctively pressed your legs together. You had just told him there was no point in feeling shy, but still… his eyes on you like that made your skin burn. Mingi let out a soft, amused hum, his lower voice killing you. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, baby.” His thumbs brushed gently along the inside of your thighs. “But I need you to talk to me, okay? I don’t want you to feel any pain.”

You nodded, but he wasn’t done.

“Good girl.” He said that again, making you shiver once more at his words. His lips curled into something dangerously soft, dangerously sweet. “Now… spread your legs for me.” His voice was just sinful, God. “Let me see you.”

Even with a lingering trace of shyness, you spread your legs for him. Mingi let out a sound that looked like a moan, his eyes locked onto your glistening pussy like he was savoring the sight. You knew you were dripping, could feel it pooling beneath you, and the thought alone made you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for his touch.

“Nah-ah.” His voice was pure, silken dominance. A soft kiss landed on your thigh, his warm palm resting against your belly. “Eyes on me, baby. I wanna see every little reaction. So behave, and look at me while I touch you, okay?”

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, blinking up at him, cheeks burning under the weight of his gaze.

Mingi started slow, his fingers first trailing over your mound, teasing, barely there, making you ache for more. Then, with the lightest pressure, he dipped lower, parting your folds, gathering your slick on his fingertips. You whimpered when he finally brushed over your clit, already swollen, already throbbing for him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet…” His voice was rougher now, and when he pressed down on your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles, your body reacted instantly. Your thighs threatened to snap shut, but his free hand kept you open.

“Talk to me, baby.” He smirked at you, making your cheeks burn again. “You like it when I touch you here?”

“Y-yes… feels so good, Mingi…” Your voice was barely more than a breathy moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly. God, what was this man doing to you?

“Good…” He kept up the slow, torturous rhythm, circling, sliding, making sure you felt every second of it. And then he smirked again, eyes flickering down between your legs. “I can see you clenching…” His fingers teased lower, brushing over your dripping hole, but never pushing in. “You want a finger inside this pretty pussy, huh?”

“Yes… please.”

You’d never felt like this before. Sure, you’d touched yourself before—your fingers, the desperate grind against your pillow. But this? Craving someone else's touch this badly? That was new.

“Yeah?” Mingi’s voice was warm, teasing, his breath fanning against your skin. “Alright, baby. Gonna put it in now. Tell me if it hurts, I’ll stop right away.”

He played with your clit for a second longer, making you squirm, before twisting his wrist and easing his middle finger inside you. He slid in easily—too easily—because you were already so wet, dripping onto his palm.

“Fuck…” He exhaled, watching the way you clenched around him, his voice thick with something almost reverent. “You’re clenching around my finger so tight, baby. Tell me how it feels.”

“Hm… it’s okay. No pain…” Your words were soft, airy, but your body was already responding to him, hips shifting just the slightest bit, searching for more.

“Yeah?” He started moving, slow thrusts, just the tip at first, then deeper, dragging against your walls in slow, deliberate strokes. “You like it like this? Or maybe…” He let his finger sink all the way in, curling it just right, hitting somewhere entirely new inside you.

A moan ripped from your throat before you could stop it. 

Mingi chuckled, clearly pleased. “I think I have my answer… Looks like I just found your G-spot.”

“It’s… embarrassing that I couldn’t find it myself…”

“Mm, it’s fine, baby…” His tone was honeyed sin, smooth and coaxing. “It’s kinda deep, see?” He pushed in again, curling that single finger right against the spot, making your body jolt. “Here… this spongy little place… this is where you’re most sensitive inside.”

Another slow press, another deliberate curl of his finger, sending a shudder down your spine, leaving you gasping.

“Feels… different…”

“A good different? Or do you want me to stop?”

“No… keep going. It’s good… really good…”

“Mm…” He smirked, his free hand sliding down to find your clit, circling it in slow, teasing motions while his finger pressed against that spot inside you over and over again. “Like this, baby? Feels good?”

“Yes…” Your voice was breathy, almost desperate. It felt too good—like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You had no idea your body could respond like this, that just one finger could unravel you so easily. But now you knew. And you needed more. “Don’t stop…”

Mingi hummed in approval, his movements shifting, pressing into your G-spot with more precision, rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure. It was overwhelming, the pleasure washing over you in such an intense way it left you breathless. Your hips had a mind of their own now, rolling into his touch, grinding against his hand as you chased the high building inside you.

“That’s it, baby…” His voice was low, dripping with praise. “Keep riding my fingers like that… fuck, you look so pretty like this…”

You felt something building inside you—something different. A weird kind of pressure you’d never felt during an orgasm before. It made you panic a little.

“Mingi… feels weird.” But it still felt good, so you didn’t stop. You kept grinding against his hand, chasing the high.

“Weird how? Talk to me.”

“Like I’m gonna… pee…” you admitted, your voice small, embarrassed.

“Mmh…” He didn’t sound the least bit bothered. “Wanna try letting go, baby? You might squirt if you do. It’ll feel so good…”

But you couldn’t. The sensation was too intense, too unfamiliar. And the idea of actually doing that in front of him made your whole body tense up.

“I can’t… I just wanna cum, please… make me cum…”

He kissed your thigh again, soft and reassuring, his finger still buried deep inside you. But now his focus shifted. His other hand is working your clit in that perfect way. God, he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Come on, baby… cum on my fingers. Keep moving, just like that…”

You did. And it hit you hard. Your orgasm crashed over you, stealing your breath, making your legs tremble uncontrollably. You couldn’t even speak, so you just moaned and whimpered as he worked you through it, drawing it out until you were spent.

Then he slowly pulled his finger out and, without breaking eye contact, brought it to his mouth and licked it clean. The sight alone made your pussy clench again.

“You taste so fucking good…”

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back a moan, because fuck. He wasn’t even touching you anymore.

“So…” Mingi sat back down beside you, his tone playful. “How was it for you?”

You let out a breathy laugh, still recovering. “That was amazing… thank you. Uh—” your hand moved to his thigh, remembering how you’d been grinding on it minutes ago, “—want me to return the favor?”

“Not today, pretty. Tonight was all about figuring out what you like.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”

“Next time we can try adding another finger… if you’re up for it. Maybe I could eat you out, too.”

“You really wanna do that?”

He looked at you like you were crazy. 

“What kind of question is that?” His eyes dropped briefly to your bare skin. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know… Some guys just don’t like giving head, I guess.”

“Straight guys? I don’t think I know anyone like that. Shit… were your exes that kind of loser?”

“One of them… maybe two.”

“Yeah, they probably didn’t like girls to begin with.” He laughed, shaking his head. “But me? I love eating pussy. You’re so damn responsive… so sensitive. Probably ‘cause you’re a virgin. Honestly, I had a lot of fun today.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is!” He gave you one of his cutest smiles, like he wasn’t just talking about eating you out a minute ago.

“Wanna crash here or want me to take you home?”

“I don’t know… I think I could stay on your couch.”

“Damn, do you think I’m an asshole or something?” He laughed, but it had a bit of a bitter edge to it. “You can use my bed. I mean, if you want, we can share. It’s big, and I don’t mind. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take the couch.”

“Calm down, Mingi… I just don’t wanna bother.”

“We’re friends, relax. So, bed or couch?”

“We can share the bed, I don’t mind.” You were just a little embarrassed, but it was fine. “Give me one of your shirts or something so I can sleep.”

“Wanna shower?” You did. You were still a mess, sticky and flustered, adjusting your clothes like it would help somehow. “Go ahead, I’ll order some food.”

Mingi was so sweet you couldn’t help but feel safe there, like actually comfortable. That post-makeout awkwardness you usually felt with guys? Nonexistent. Maybe it was because he was your friend, and it really felt like he cared.

You took a long, needed shower, and when you were done, he handed you a pair of boxers, some comfy shorts, and a soft oversized shirt like you’d asked. He’d ordered Chinese, and you ate with him while watching TV like nothing had just happened between you—chatting about college, life, random stuff. At some point, you were barely keeping your eyes open.

“Let’s go to bed. It’s pretty late,” he said, turning off the TV and getting up. “I’m gonna shower. You can go ahead and sleep if you want.”

So you did. You headed to his room, crawled into his bed and immediately sank into the smell of his sheets. That soft, clean scent of his cologne was everywhere. Your brain briefly panicked about what you’d tell your roommate the next day, assuming you’d even tell her anything. But she'd probably annoy you until you did.

You were drifting off when you heard Mingi come in. He had a towel slung low around his hips, and you peeked—just a little—before shutting your eyes again. He changed, then slipped into bed right beside you, and suddenly your heart was racing. He smelled like soap, like shampoo, like everything warm and familiar, and holy shit, all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him. But you didn’t. You forced yourself to stay still, and eventually, you managed to fall asleep.

But nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared you for the morning.

You woke up to a warm weight draped over your waist. At first, you almost ignored it… until you remembered you weren’t in your bed. You weren’t in your room. You were at Mingi’s. And his arm was on your waist.

And then it all came rushing back… the way his finger felt inside you, the things he said, the way you came so hard you couldn’t speak… and now? Now he was pressed right up against you, and very clearly hard. You could feel his cock resting against your lower back, thick and hot even through the fabric, and you really, really didn’t want to freak out.

But fuck.

How?

You shifted your hips, just a little, enough to grind back into him, slow and deliberate, because you wanted to feel him. All of him.

Mingi mumbled something low, half-asleep, and pulled you closer, spooning you tight, his breath warm against your neck. The way it made you shiver? Unfair. You bit back a soft moan, trying to keep it together.

You couldn’t stop wondering… was this just morning wood? Or was he actually turned on?

But the way he was holding you, not moving away, letting your ass press right up against him like that… yeah, it could definitely be both.

“Hey…” His voice was deep and rough, soaked in sleep, and it went straight to your core. “You doing that on purpose?”

“I was just… trying to feel you.”

Your voice came out breathier than you expected. He let out a low groan, somewhere between sleepy and way too sexy for your own good.

“Then why don’t you just touch it?”

“You want me to touch your dick?” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but damn.

He chuckled against your neck, his body shaking a little with it.

“You did say you wanted to feel me.” Then he rolled onto his back, arms behind his head, shameless and relaxed. “I’m all yours.”

You could see it. The tent in his shorts, the thick bulge straining against the fabric… and shit, it looked huge.

You swallowed hard, your shaky hands practically begging to touch him.

You sat up on the bed, reached for him, and the second your fingers brushed over his clothed length, you felt it. Hard and heavy, all for you. Fuck. 

“Shit, baby… want me to take it out for you?”

His voice was low and wrecked, thick with lust, and god, he wanted this just as badly as you did.

“I can do it.” Your fingers slid under his waistband, tugging down his shorts and boxers in one go until his cock sprang free. Thick, flushed, and already leaking, smacking lightly against his stomach. “So big…”

“Yeah?” He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a slow squeeze that made precum beads at the tip. “You like it?”

“Yes…” God, you did. He was pretty, and that wasn't something you'd ever said about a dick before. But his? Fuck, yes. “Let me touch you.”

You weren’t some handjob expert or anything, you’d done it before, sure, but this felt different. Bigger. More intense. More him. Still, you wanted to do it right. You wanted to make him feel good.

Mingi watched you as you wrapped your fingers around him, slow strokes at first, eyes flicking between your hand and your face. His cock twitched in your grip, and that alone made your thighs clench. 

He hummed in approval when you squeezed a bit harder, stroking slowly, getting his tip wetter with precum before you could do it a bit faster.

But you wanted more. 

You didn’t even think, just leaned in and spit on his cock to help your hands glide easier.

The slick sound it made when you started stroking him faster had you biting your lip, and then came his whimper… breathy, needy, absolutely filthy.

“Fuck… you’re good at this…”

Hearing that lit something in you. Gave you all the confidence you needed to keep going.

You spit on him again, not giving a damn about being messy, and the way Mingi moaned for you… it was the hottest sound you’d ever heard.

You were using both hands now; he was big, too big for just one. It made your hands feel small, and the thought of having his cock inside you? Kinda terrifying… but mostly it just made your pussy clench and drip even more.

“Baby… I’m gonna cum—” he panted, voice desperate, eyes locked on you like he was begging you not to stop.

And you didn’t. You weren’t stopping until you felt his hot load spill across your fingers.

He let out a deep, wrecked moan as he came, hips twitching, cock pulsing in your hands. His cum painted your fingers, spilled onto his belly, his pelvis, so much of it.

God, it was so hot.

You loved the feeling, knowing you made him come like that. Make him lose it with just your hands.

“So…” Mingi was still catching his breath, chest rising and falling. “Now you’ve felt me.”

You laughed under your breath. Yeah, the whole thing started with you just wanting to feel how hard he was. But this? This was so much better.

“Yeah… I liked that. And…” You still had his cum on your fingers, warm and sticky. And you didn’t fight the urge anymore. You brought them to your mouth, licking them clean right in front of him—just like he did with you. “I like your taste too.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me.”

He sat on the bed and pulled you closer, kissing you like he needed it. That caught you off guard. You thought most guys would be grossed out by kissing you after you had their cum in your mouth.

But not Mingi.

He kissed you deep, tongue and all, messy and hot, just the way you liked it.

“Can I do something? Please?” he asked, breathless against your lips.

“What?” You were already dizzy from the kiss alone.

“I wanna eat your pussy…”

You felt heat rush through your whole body. You wanted that, bad. Even if the sunlight was peeking through the window, making everything feel more exposed. There was no way you could say no.

“…Okay.”

You didn’t know exactly what to do, but Mingi did. He gently switched your positions, laying you on your back and climbing over you.

He tugged your shorts off and tossed them aside without looking, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your pussy. You were soaked, your arousal shining under the light, and it clearly drove him wild.

You didn’t need to be asked, your legs opened for him on their own, desperate to know how it would feel to have his mouth on you.

He kissed your thighs first, slow and wet, his soft lips making obscene sounds against your flushed skin. You couldn’t stop staring at him, he looked like he was enjoying this as much as you.

Your eyes locked, and in that second, you knew: if you wanted him to stop, he would. You felt safe. Even with your legs spread wide open in front of him.

Then his lips met your mound. A chill shot through your spine and you had to fight the urge to squeeze your thighs together.

But Mingi kept you open for him.

He pressed a kiss to your clit first, then started to lick it, slowly, teasing, just getting a taste of you. Watching your reactions.

Your eyes fluttered shut. It was already one of the best things you’d ever felt—and somehow, it got better. He started sucking your clit, flicking his tongue over it, then dipped just the tip of his tongue inside you. Then he was making out with your pussy, completely lost in it.

You wanted to scream. Your whole body was trembling, your chest tight with how good it felt. You couldn’t keep your hips still, you were grinding against his mouth, moaning uncontrollably, fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him even closer.

You were so close. You could feel yourself falling apart.

And when your orgasm hit, it wrecked you.

Your legs trembled, your stomach clenched, and your moans were so loud you didn’t even register them until your body started to come down.

It was hands down the best orgasm of your life.

Fuck.

Mingi kissed your thighs while you were still trembling, then crawled up your body to press soft kisses to your neck and lips.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, and fuck, that was easily the hottest thing you’d ever done.

“So… did you like it?”

“Are you kidding?” Your voice was barely audible. “That was insanely good.”

“I’m glad.” He let himself drop beside you with a satisfied sigh, stretching lazily. “Hmm… I think we should get some breakfast. But… my roommate might be home already…”

What?

Fuck.

There was someone there? And Mingi just let you moan like that?

“You didn’t think that was worth mentioning before I screamed loud enough for your neighbors to know your name?”

“Nope,” he said, grinning. “Didn’t want you to hold back. But relax. If he heard anything, he won’t care.”

“Fuck, Mingi. I’m so embarrassed.”

“There’s no need. He won’t say anything, and he won’t even know it was you. I’m not telling anyone.”

“…Okay then. Thanks. I guess.”

You didn’t stay in bed much longer. Not because it wasn’t tempting, but because you were starving. You changed back into your clothes from yesterday, and Mingi took you out to your favorite coffee shop so you could have your much-needed morning caffeine.

What surprised you most was how easy everything felt. There was no awkwardness between you two.

You talked about college, cracked dumb jokes, and laughed about random stuff like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just made you come harder than anyone ever had.

But then it hit you: a vivid flashback of Mingi’s mouth between your legs, and your thighs clenched on their own. Your cheeks burned instantly.

“What?” he asked, smirking. “You’re blushing.”

“Yeah, I…” Why couldn’t you breathe properly all of a sudden? “Sorry, I just…”

“You were thinking about the dirty stuff we did, huh?” He leaned closer, teasing. “I think you might be ready to really do it.”

“I was… and you think so?”

“Yeah. I figured you might be a little traumatized from the other guys,” he said gently, “but you’re doing fine. So, whenever you feel ready… we can.”

You were speechless. Truth was, you’d felt ready the second he first kissed you. He had been nothing but respectful, never pushing, never rushing, and that made you want him even more.

“…Okay, so what do you think about tonight?”

Mingi raised his eyebrows, looking a little surprised by what you’d just said. You were surprised, too. You thought it would take longer for you to let go like that. But the truth was… you felt ready. And the best part? Him.

You weren’t going to lose your virginity to some random loser. It was going to be with someone you trusted. Someone who cared about you.

“It’s totally up to you. I’m free tonight,” he said with a soft smile, a sweet one this time. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah… I really want to.”

Mingi smiled wider and, like the absolute prince he was, formally invited you on a date. He said he didn’t want to just take you to his place and jump into bed—he wanted to give you the whole experience. And you kinda liked the idea.

He even walked you home. But the moment you stepped into your apartment, your roommate nearly lost her mind.

“Tell me everything!!! You slept with your hot friend, didn’t you?! I saw you two! Holy shit, he’s gorgeous… you’re so fucking lucky.”

“I didn’t…” you muttered, cheeks burning. “Yet.”

You were way too embarrassed to give her all the details, like how he made you moan louder than you ever had in your life. So you just said one thing led to another… and now you had a date.

That was enough to send her into full panic-mode-on-your-behalf. She practically dragged you out of the house to buy lingerie, insisting that if you were finally going to lose your virginity, you needed something sexy. And you knew that she was right.

You found a few beautiful sets. Lacy bras and panties that made you feel way hotter than you expected. But once you bought them, it really hit you: this was happening. You were finally going to have sex.

Fuck.

You still couldn’t believe it.

Back home, your roommate helped you style your hair and pick out an outfit for the night.

She was genuinely happy for you, and you were getting really nervous. But in the best possible way.

“Listen… it might hurt a little. But it’ll feel good after, okay? Just keep that in mind.”

She wasn’t trying to scare you—she was actually being gentle—but it wasn’t exactly helping. “And he’s experienced, right? That’s a very good thing.”

“I know it’s gonna hurt…” Because Mingi was big. Like, the biggest you’d ever seen. “But I’m not really that scared about the pain. I’m more nervous about… what happens after.”

“Like… things getting weird between you two?”

“I don’t think they will…”

And you meant it. Mingi didn’t make things weird. He made you feel safe.

“Then relax,” she said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “And for the love of God, use a condom.”

That made you laugh, even if you weren’t sure why. Maybe because you were quietly freaking out and laughter was the only thing keeping you from losing it.

And yeah… time was running out. He’d be there any minute, and your nerves weren’t exactly calming down.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was Mingi. You’d already done things with him, intimate things. This was just the next step. You wanted it. And you trusted him. Everything was going to be fine.

Your roommate helped you finish your makeup, soft and glowy, just the way you liked, and a few minutes later, your phone buzzed.

Mingi was calling. He was already downstairs, waiting for you. 

When you came down, he was already in the car, parked right in front of your building. As soon as you got in, the scent of his cologne hit you. Clean, expensive, and so him. He looked really good too, even more so in those clothes.

“Hi…” you said, trying not to fall apart while buckling your seatbelt. “Where are you taking me?”

“Well… I know you like Italian food, so I picked a nice Italian restaurant.”

“You’re making me really nervous, you know? I…” your voice was shaky, your breathing unsteady. “I just feel a little weird doing this, like…”

Like it was something serious. That’s what you meant.

“There’s no need to be nervous, you know that, right?” he said gently. “We’ve gone out to eat a bunch of times. The only difference is that tonight, I’m helping you with something… personal.” He smirked, starting the car. “Could’ve happened before, if you wanted.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m unsure about this. I want it. I’ve been thinking about it all day, actually… it’s just… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Maybe you’re just overthinking it,” he said, flashing you that same calm, charming smile. “It’s all good. We don’t need to plan every step. Let’s just eat, talk, and see where the night takes us.”

He was right, you knew that. But still, why was your heart racing like that? Damn. 

Either way, you managed to calm down a bit when he let you pick the music.

Dinner was amazing. You ate well, sipped on some very good wine, and Mingi showed you just how much of a gentleman he could be on a date. You’d been out with him before, sure, but it never felt like this. This was different. This was a real date.

A few hours passed in what felt like minutes. Eating, drinking, laughing, talking. When the check came, he grabbed it and paid before you could even peek at the price.

As you were leaving the restaurant, his hand found your lower back—guiding you gently, protectively, until you reached the car. That simple touch made you shiver, even though you were way calmer than earlier.

“So…” he said once you were both buckled in. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

The playful tone in his voice helped a lot. You were still a little nervous, sure, but you knew exactly what you wanted now. You weren’t backing out.

“Maybe your place, handsome,” you replied, matching his tone.

He chuckled, turning the engine on. “Not nervous anymore?”

“Just a little. But I’m good.”

“That’s good.”

You looked over at him while he drove, and damn, he looked so good. So relaxed, so confident. You were on a date with a ridiculously hot guy… and you were going to sleep with him. Silly thoughts, maybe. But you couldn’t stop them.

Not long after you left the restaurant, Mingi was already pulling into the parking lot of his building, and you could feel the thick tension between you as soon as you stepped into the elevator. He was acting all relaxed, but you could tell… he was probably just as nervous as you.

When he opened the door to his apartment, you walked into the living room a little faster than you meant to, maybe driven by all that anticipation building inside you. He locked the door behind you and turned the lights on.

“Do you want something to drink…?”

“Not now, but thanks. I’m kinda nervous…” You bit your lower lip, taking a good look at him. God, he looked so good. So fucking good. “Can we… go to your room?”

“I’m kinda nervous too, to be honest. I’m gonna be your first, and I really don’t want this to be a bad experience for you. I’ll try my best.”

“Mingi, I trust you. I really do. I’m not even worried about that…”

“Good… so, we’re both nervous and in the mood. What are we waiting for?”

You chuckled at his words as he guided you to his bedroom. He had changed the sheets, it smelled really nice in there, clean but still like him. You sat right on the edge of his bed and waited as he closed the door behind you.

When he turned around and looked at you, his gaze was so intense, you could feel he was holding something back. And fuck… you couldn’t wait to find out what he was going to do to you.

Mingi sat right next to you, and after making you squirm under his intense stare, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into a rough, hungry kiss. Fuck… it was really happening now. Kissing him wasn’t new, but this time it felt different. It felt hotter, more desperate, like you both couldn’t wait any longer.

Your body was already burning up, and it was like he knew exactly what you needed. Without saying a word, he unzipped your dress and slid it off you like it was nothing, not even giving you a second to overthink it. You let him, kissing him harder, wanting more.

You couldn’t help but silently thank your friend for making you buy that lingerie set, because the second Mingi saw you sitting there in just your bra and panties, he let out the filthiest fucking groan.

He hooked a finger under the strap of your bra, playing with it, before biting your lip and trailing his mouth down your neck. Then, without hesitation, he reached behind you, unhooked your bra with one quick move, and tossed it aside like he couldn’t get it off fast enough. 

He was still fully dressed, it didn’t feel fair at all. So you tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him. You had to break the kiss for just a second to pull it off, and that gave you a chance to really look at him… his flushed face, his lips already swollen from how hard you’d been kissing him. You couldn’t help yourself. You had to bite them, suck on them, make him feel just as desperate as you did.

You pushed him back until he was lying flat on the bed, and as soon as he hit the mattress, you climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. This time, it was you who kissed him like you were starving for it, your tongue in his mouth, your hands all over his chest, raking your nails down his skin.

His hands slid down from your waist to your ass, gripping you so hard it almost hurt, squeezing and groping until you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth. He pulled you closer, pressing you down against the bulge in his pants, making you grind against him as your bare tits brushed over his chest.

But he wanted more. He pulled you enough to bury his face in your breasts, licking and sucking your nipples, teasing them with his hot tongue until they were aching. He devoured you, biting just hard enough to make you gasp, his lips marking you, claiming every inch of your skin. Fuck, it felt so good you couldn’t think.

You shifted to kiss him again, grinding shamelessly against his clothed cock, your hips moving on instinct as dirty flashbacks flooded your mind. You could already feel how soaked your panties were, though they barely counted as panties at all. The thin, see-through thong did nothing to hide how wet and desperate you’d gotten for him.

“Baby… I gotta…” He grabbed your hips, holding you still for a second as his hands moved down to unbuckle his pants. You hadn’t even realized how tight they were on him. “Let me take these off.”

As soon as he shoved them down and kicked them away, you climbed right back on top of him, grinding against his cock again, slow and needy. He left his boxers on, but you could already see the wet spot spreading there. 

You really wanted to make him feel good, you felt this urge to try something new, it was pulsing inside you. You rested your hands on his chest, slowly breaking the kiss.

“Mingi… can I…” Your fingers slid down to his waistband, teasing, pulling the elastic just enough to catch a glimpse of the neatly trimmed hair there. “Can I suck you off?”

He blinked at you a few times, like he couldn’t quite believe what you’d just said. Of course, you knew you were offering something no man in the world could resist, and you wanted to get that exact reaction out of him. It worked.

“F… fuck. You really wanna do that?” He licked his lips, almost trembling beneath you. “If you really want to… do it. I know I’m gonna fucking love it.”

“It’s my first time…” you murmured, trailing wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, then over his chest and hard abs. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

He just nodded, breath hitching, eyes fixed on you as you slid his boxers down, finally freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and heavy, slapping against his lower belly. Your mouth watered instantly. Fuck… you’d never thought about sucking a dick before, but you needed it, craved the taste of him.

You wet your lips first, then stroked him slowly a few times, just to watch the precum bead at the tip. You leaned in and cleaned it up with your tongue. It tasted a little salty, but it only made you crave more. You licked along his length, making him groan again, a sound that you felt deep between your legs as you clenched harder than you thought was possible.

Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you started sucking on the tip, just like your friends had described before. God, you liked his taste, and you were already making a mess with your spit and his precum.

“Just like that, baby… make it wet. I like messy.”

Fuck, his voice. You couldn’t believe how turned on you were just from sucking him off.

You tried to take more of him into your mouth, and you gagged a little when he hit the back of your throat, but the way he moaned almost made you not care at all.

“You’re so pretty sucking dick, baby… keep going…” He caressed your head, holding your hair to get a better view as you started moving a little faster. “Fuck, yes… use your hand too. Like that… fuck. Such a good girl for me.”

You didn’t care if you were choking on his cock or not. You loved being praised like that. You could already feel how wet you were, ready to drip at any second.

You kept using your hand just like he told you to, listening to every instruction, loving how much he kept telling you how good you were at it. You bobbed your head faster, getting used to taking him while jerking him off at the same time. It was hard at first, but now you were doing it easily.

“I don’t wanna cum in your mouth… let's stop here. Let me eat your pussy now.”

He gently pushed you away, watching as a string of spit kept him connected to your swollen lips.

“God, you’re gonna kill me.” He touched your lower lip, running his thumb across it, as if he couldn’t resist praising you. “Lay down and spread those legs for me, huh?”

You used the back of your hand to wipe your chin and happily laid down for him, letting him slide your ruined panties off in a second.

“Fucking God, you’re so wet…” He ran his fingers between your pussy lips, feeling just how slick you were. “Baby got this wet just from sucking my cock?”

Yes, you did. And you were so horny that any trace of embarrassment had already faded. You nodded, spreading your legs a bit more, silently begging him to lick your pussy because you couldn’t wait another second.

Mingi didn’t make you wait. He dived in, eating you out like you were his favorite fucking meal. His groans and moans vibrated against your pussy, his tongue teasing your entrance before he slipped a finger inside, making your head spin. Fuck. You ground down on his face, unable to stop yourself… your whole body was on fire, and you screamed when he added a second finger, the sudden stretch making you shiver under his touch.

There was nothing but pure pleasure. He finger-fucked you so fast and so deep that the obscene wet sounds echoed through the room, proof of how messy and turned on you were.

“Gonna cum… fuck, don’t stop, please…” You clutched at his hair, grinding your pussy against his face, sloppy and desperate. He loved every second of it. So did you.

You tried to close your legs when your orgasm ripped through you, stealing every breath and almost your soul, but he didn’t let you. You whimpered, tried to push him away, but your legs barely worked. He finally stopped touching you, but kept his eyes fixed, watching the way your pussy kept clenching even after you came.

"That was so hot, baby..." When you finally came down from your high, you saw Mingi ripping open the condom and rolling it down his cock. "Ready?"

"Yes. Fuck. Yes." You didn’t mean to sound so desperate, but your pussy wasn’t exactly letting your brain make decisions anymore. Your legs were already spread, your body completely relaxed, and you couldn’t possibly be any wetter. Everything was ready.

"Okay, I’m gonna put it in… slowly. Tell me if you need me to stop, okay?"

He hovered over you, eyes locked on yours, holding himself up with one arm while guiding his cock to your entrance with the other. You felt the pressure, the stretch as he started pushing in—slow, careful. There was pain, but not in a way that made you want to stop. It was… thick. Full. He was big. You knew that. But feeling it? That was something else. And he was barely halfway in.

"God, you’re so big…" You gripped his biceps, biting down on your lip.

"You can take it." He leaned in and kissed your cheek, his voice deep and steady. "It’s just the tip now, but you can take my cock. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?"

You moaned just from hearing him say that. He already knew how much you loved being praised, and when he felt you clenching around him, he groaned.

"Fuck... can I keep going?"

You nodded, bracing yourself, but the pain never got too sharp. He didn’t bottom out just yet, but even half of him made you feel stretched to your limits. Still, the thought of having him completely inside you made your whole body ache for more. You focused on relaxing, breathing slowly.

"Fuck... I want more. Give it to me. Please."

Mingi waited a few seconds, like he needed to be sure you were okay, and then did exactly what you asked. He was so gentle, so patient—you couldn’t have asked for a better first time. And then it happened. His cock slid all the way in, filling you to the hilt.

The feeling was overwhelming. You felt so full, so hot, so incredibly stretched.

"Tell me when I can move."

You pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Move... please..."

Nothing could’ve prepared you for that. Not fingers. Not toys. Nothing. It burned at first, but not enough to stop. You were soaked, and the sounds—wet, obscene, addictive—only made you more delirious. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on how he moved inside you, how deep he was, how thick he felt.

But you needed to see it. You looked down, desperate to watch the way your pussy was taking him.

Mingi got the hint. He sat back on his knees, shifting your hips slightly so you could see it happen—see his cock disappearing inside you over and over.

"Play with your clit for me." He grabbed your thighs, his eyes fixed on where you were connected. "Fuck, you're taking me so well..."

You licked your fingers and started rubbing your clit. It was swollen, hypersensitive, and the added stimulation made you moan like a mess. You didn’t care. You just needed more.

"Feels good, baby?" He held himself deep inside you. "Think you can cum for me like that?"

"Yes..." You looked again, watching how slick his cock got each time he slid in. You didn’t stop rubbing, and soon your hips started moving too, chasing that feeling. You felt everything—his size, his weight, the way he hit that same spot his fingers found before—and it made you dizzy.

"You're clenching... keep going, baby. Use my cock. Get yourself off. Cum all over it."

You didn’t hold back. You rode him the way you needed, chasing your high, grinding and moaning and letting go. It didn’t take long. Your body locked up as your orgasm hit, your pussy squeezing him in waves while you screamed, head thrown back, completely undone. Mingi groaned with you, like your pleasure alone was driving him insane.

Your legs were useless now, limp from the intensity. You were still coming down when he started moving again—this time harder, faster, with no hesitation. All you could feel was pleasure.

"You're so hard... I can feel you. So deep..."

"Didn’t think you’d take cock this well, baby... Can I fuck you harder?"

"Yes... fuck me. Wanna feel you cum too."

For a second, you hated the condom, but it didn’t matter. Not when he started pounding into you like that. It was rougher, and you loved every second. Your body was sore but it felt too good to care. You heard his moans, his breath getting shakier as he got closer. He kissed you, bit your neck, and moaned against your lips when he finally came, filling the condom as his cock throbbed inside you.

God, that was insanely good. 

You were caressing his back while he tried to catch his breath. You had just lost your virginity, and it felt so good you could barely believe it.

“So… good enough for your first time?” He slowly slid out of you, pulling off the condom and tying it up. “I’m really glad you chose me, gotta say.”

“It was amazing. Thank you… really.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I did you a favor, and as you can see…” He lifted the condom, still full. “I had a great time too. Huh… Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. And… you know… is this a one-time thing? I’m sorry for asking that right now, it’s just…” You hesitated, suddenly aware of how exposed you were—and not just physically. “I… I don’t know. Forget it.”

“It doesn’t have to be. A one-time thing, I mean. If you want more…”

“I was just thinking that maybe next time you could… skip the condom, maybe?” Your voice dropped a little, more nervous now. “I was a virgin until now, and I take the pill. I just… really want to know how that would feel.”

“So… you’re asking me to creampie you?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking like the cocky bastard he was. “You know that feels like going to heaven, right?”

He looked so hot saying that, so confident, his body still glistening slightly from sweat. You couldn’t stop staring.

“I can do that, of course. Your pussy’s gonna look so pretty dripping with my cum…”

Your cheeks burned instantly, and you had to look away.

“Hm… feeling shy now? Bit too late for that.” He chuckled, tossing the condom aside and lying down beside you, his fingers lazily exploring your chest, your collarbone, your neck. “Ask me whatever you want. I’ll do it. I can be your first for a lot more things, you know.”

“That sounded like an invitation… want to keep me around?”

You turned to your side, facing him, still trying to process everything that just happened. Your legs were sore, your body still buzzing, and your brain felt like it had short-circuited somewhere halfway through.

Mingi looked over at you with that same cocky, satisfied smile, resting one arm under his head.

“I think I'll.”

A second later, he slid closer behind you, pressing his bare chest against your back and wrapping an arm lazily around your waist. You didn’t answer him, it wasn’t necessary. You just tangled your fingers with his and fell asleep. 

Somehow, the crazy decision that led you to end up naked in his bed turned out to be the best one you’ve ever made.

[pencil-n-pen]

I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

₊ ⊹

summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

--

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

--

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

--

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

--

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

--

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

--

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

--

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

--

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

--

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the t.v, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the screen.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

taglist: @topsecret101 @slowdownpal @leeknowpegger @sunbl3achedfly @hiireadstuff @paige0103 @private190104 @beautyb1ade @coraline-jones353 @pleasenter-sandman @sttvrdustt @gluchie @thomasintheshadows @dessamira1001 @bbleeeeh @hufflely-puffly @bippityboppityboob1tch @buggys-space @redxfangirl @liauchiha147 @dreaming-potato @meandyoulollz @jobrosimp

[yasministration]

A motherly visit - son!harry potter

summary: when harry sends you another owl claiming that professor snape has it out for him, you decide to pay them a short visit wc: 1.5k+

Irritation flooded through yours veins, your eye nearly twitching with annoyance as you read through Harry’s letter. Once again, your son had been unfairly treated by his Potions teacher, graded lower on his exams and essays than he deserved. Your chair scraped loudly on the floor of your potions lab as you pushed it out from under your desk, grabbing your coat as you made your way to the fireplace in your office.

You wiped down your clean hands on the soft fabric of your coat before grabbing a handful of floo powder and travelling to Professor McGonagall’s office. As the green flames died away, revealing your confident stance, Professor McGonagall blinked slowly, only mildly surprised to find you in her office. “I need to find my son so we can have a chat with Professor Snape.” The older woman opened her mouth to reply, but you were already walking out of her office. She sighed, leaving you to your own devices in the rogue hallways of the Hogwarts castle.

Luckily for you, a loud call of “Mum!” had you stopping in your tracks and spinning on the balls of your feet to see Harry jogging towards you, his book bag flapping uncontrollably at his side. Harry gripped the strap of his back, holding it snugly against his jumper clad chest as he ran towards you with a smile. Ron and Hermione immediately quickened their pace to catch up with their friend, who threw his arms out to engulf you in a tight hug.

“Hey, sweetheart.” You mumbled, lips pressed against Harry’s forehead as you wrapped your arms around him. “What are you doing here?” He questioned excitedly, adjusting his glasses in a way that instantly reminded you of your husband. “I got your letter.” Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “I sent you that like an hour ago!”

“And I’m sick of hearing about how your incompetent Professor keeps poorly grading your papers, which I know deserve higher grades on.” You huffed angrily, putting both your hands on your hips. “You have your papers on you, don’t you?” Harry nodded, immediately ruffling through his book bag. You winced at the sight of loose papers in the bag but looked away, instead busying yourself by greeting your son’s two best friends. Harry made a noise of achievement as he pulled out two separate stacks of papers, presenting them to you with a smile. You scanned through them quickly as he explained “That’s my essay on the uses of mandrake plants in advanced potion making, and then that’s our most recent end of unit test.” “Well, come along then, Harry.”

“Mum, I’ve got a lesson now.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure your Professor will understand I’m on a time crunch.” Your heels clicked loudly against the concrete floors, heads of students turning to look at you curiously. That would probably be one of two reasons: 1. You were a parent who had no business currently being at Hogwarts. 2. You were the most successful potioneer of your generation, specialising in poisons and their remedies, with a success so prominent that every potions student in Year 5 and above stared at your name on the cover of their potions textbooks every time they used it.

The chilly atmosphere of the dungeon welcomed you as you made a beeline to the potions classroom. Harry’s thoughts were racing as he tried predicting what you were going to tell Professor Snape, holding your son’s exam papers in hand.

Luckily for you, Snape had just exited his classroom, opening his mouth to let his students into the dark room, when he spotted you. His eyes were immediately clouded with annoyance, but something else lingered in his gaze. “Snape,” You started, glancing at the group of students waiting to be called into their classrooms. “I suggest you give your students a free period. We have things to discuss.” You didn’t wait for Snape to respond, pushing past him to walk into his classroom. You settled your things down on a table near Snape’s desk, standing up behind the uncomfortable stools. “Take a seat, sweetheart.” Harry smiled gently as you returned your gaze to him, eyes softening as they took him in. You pushed a rogue strand of hair away from his face before turning around to meet Snape’s eye as he trudged towards you.

“You realise it’s been almost twenty years, right?” Harry wasn’t expecting those to be your first words. “So I suggest you get over your little crush on me and your hatred towards my husband, because my son is facing the consequences of your feelings.” Harry gasped at the revelation, his eyes wide with shock. He pursed his lips suddenly to suppress his laughter.

Snape hated him because he was jealous of Harry’s father?

You turned over Harry’s papers to face the Professor. “Look me in the eye and tell me you believe these deserve a Poor.” Snape looked up, making solid eye contact with you, though he didn’t say anything. “Y/N-” “It’s Mrs. Potter to you, Snape.”

The long-haired Professor inhaled deeply. “Mrs. Potter, I strongly believe that your son’s papers deserve the grades they were awarded.” You hummed, entirely unconvinced. Pushing Harry’s essay to the side, you flipped his exam paper open. “Then we seriously need to question your teaching. Green pen, please.” Snape grumbled quietly as he stood up walking to his desk to retrieve a green pen for you, placing it in your extended hand.

“Let’s see.” You spoke under your breath, moving around the table to stand next to Snape. The next few minutes were dreadfully tense for Harry, watching as Snape spent most of the time looking at the side of your face rather than the paper, where you were adding small check marks next to Harry’s answers. When you reached the end of the paper, you flicked back to the beginning, counting the marks in a quiet whisper.

“You’ve given my son an 18/50. The mark he should have gotten is a 39. Not an outstanding by any means, but still two entire grades above the one you gave him.” Harry swallowed thickly as you spoke, crossing your arms over your chest whilst you stared down Professor Snape.

“Keep up with this prejudice against my son and I promise, you will come out of a job.” Snape scoffed, finally saying “You act as though anyone will take your word over mine.” Your genuine laugh surprised Harry. “You can stop pretending you think they’ll choose you over me. We both know Professor Dumbledore has been begging me to take this position for, what, four years now?” All colour drained from Professor Snape’s face as you revealed that information. You walked around the hopeless professor to place a hand on your son’s shoulder.

“Who knows, maybe next year I’ll take his offer?” You leaned closer to Professor Snape, bringing your voice down to a whisper. “If I don’t hear that you’ve changed my son’s grade by tomorrow, I promise, worse things will happen to you than losing your job." You straightened up, clearing your throat before adding "Who knows, maybe I’ll even send my husband to visit you.”

Harry revelled in the way Snape shuddered at the mention of his father. He didn’t bother hiding his smile at Snape’s reaction to your friendly threat, holding his hand out for you to hold as you gathered your things. You took Harry’s hand, guiding him out of the room with a satisfied smile. “Is it true they asked you to come work here?” You nodded with a hum.

“Why didn’t you take the offer?” You turned to look at Harry’s hopeful eyes, furrowing your eyebrows. “I didn’t want to be invasive. I mean, I know for a fact I wouldn’t have wanted my parents to hear every rumour that was spread, or know every time I got into trouble. That would be inevitable if I worked here, and, you know, I want you to have some freedom.”

“Well, what if you came next year?” You stopped in your tracks at Harry’s question, turning to look at him properly. “You know, it’ll be my last year, so I’d have had my freedom, and you’ll be a great teacher for everyone. And I guess it would be nice having you around.” Harry’s cheeks were flushed pink and your heart warmed as you realised the true reason for his request. He missed you and his dad.

“Okay.”

“Okay!?” Harry jumped up at your agreement, laughing joyously. “But!” “But?” Harry echoed, sounding slightly horrified. “I’ll still live at home. I won’t stay here overnight like some Professors do. We’re just one apparation from home anyway. But I guess I’ll stay here until late afternoon if I have to mark papers.” Harry grinned, throwing his arms around your shoulders to bring you into a tight hug. You laughed, eyes widening as you realised he was looming over you despite the heels you wore. “Harry, honey, you are getting too tall.” The boy shrugged as he let go of you. “Madame Pomfrey said I’m still growing. I’ve still got a couple of inches ‘til I catch up to dad anyway.”

“He won’t be too happy about that, but the two of you can argue about it at dinner tomorrow, yeah? I’ll send McGonagall an owl to let her know. Just come by using floo.”

“Ooh and can we play a game of Quidditch after?”

“Only if you’re willing to lose.”

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @boromoony, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin

[noisilyscreechingsong]

“The what?”

Danny and Duke had been having a pretty okay day. Duke got a ridiculous packet to complete from his professor, and Danny tripped down the stairs in the library, causing a ruckus that got everyone’s attention.

So yea, everything was going well until they decided to push their luck and go to a new coffee shop a bit further away. It wasn’t the coffee shop itself, but the goons that came out of nowhere to kidnap Tim Drake-Wayne who was getting an order to go, which turned into a gang fight in the middle of the street.

Danny and Duke, along with Tim, ended up sheltered behind a car and missed the opportunity to bunker down inside the shop.

“Well, this isn’t what I planned today,” Tim comments.

“Same,” Danny agrees.

“Maybe we can wait it out?” Duke suggests.

The other two give a look that says that it was not going to happen.

“Rock, Paper, Scissors for peeking,” Danny says, already holding out his fist.

“Bet.”

They look at Duke.

Peer Pressure works and he groans with clear discomfort at the situation.

Duke loses. A bullet whizzes past his head.

“Nope! Nope. Not doing that again.”

Tim rolls his eyes at the dramatics, but with Danny still there he bit his tongue.

“What’d you see?”

Duke looks at Tim like he’s crazy.

“Lots of people with guns,” he answers hysterically.

“Need a hand?”

Red Hood had swung down from the nearest rooftop, hand gun in both hands. He pops off three shots before having to duck behind the car with them.

“Hood, what are you doing here? This isn’t Crime Alley,” Tim asks like they bumped into each other at the supermarket.

Hood shrugs, “Close enough.”

“Oh sweet, can I borrow that?” Danny randomly asks.

Before anyone can question what he was talking about he was already reaching out to take the handgun off of Hood’s thigh.

“Whoa-“

Danny turns to look over the car’s hood and pulls the trigger. Nothing happens.

The others pull him back quickly. He winces at the hard fall to his tailbone.

“Holy crap! Danny!”

“Dude, are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Hey!” Danny interrupts their freak out. “It’s not my fault his gun is broke.”

“The safety is still on, idiot,” Hood tilts his head.

“The what?” Danny asks in genuine confusion.

The three brothers all pause and look at him.

“The safety? On the gun? So there isn’t a misfire?” Tim explains. He was stuck between shocked and judgmental.

“This is why people who don’t know how to shoot shouldn’t touch guns,” Hood says in frustration while reaching to take it away.

Danny pulls it back out of reach.

“I know how to shoot, thanks. My parent’s weapons just don’t have safety things. I’m not used to it,” he grumbles.

“What do you-“

But Danny was already finding the safety and flicking it off before trying again. This time he hits two goons, one in the shoulder and another in the leg.

The batboys glance at each other.

“So,” Hood tries to be casual, “what do your parents do?”

“They’re scientists,” Danny answers, mainly focused on shooting another person dressed in a mask, “but they make their own weapons.”

“Are they by any chance mad scientists? Or borderline rogues?” Duke asks as half a joke.

“Of course not,” Danny answers. Then he pauses to actually think about it. “I don’t think so.”

“Cool. That’s fine.”

**

After that Danny had a few more ‘meet and greet’s with the local vigilantes and saw some lingering shadows around their apartment. They had the weirdest questions about his family.

[that-one-girl2020]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a skit about what were the Saja Boys fighting about and what Jinu and Rumi were talking about, because I really want to know.

Interlude

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: Sorry getting around to this one took a little bit, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it until I started writing it. This takes during part 5! Rumi and Jinu’s conversation happens before the start of the part and the fight between the guys happens during the Idol Awards. Rumi and Jinu’s song is still Rumi and Jinu’s song, just with some edits.

Synopsis: What happened between Rumi and Jinu before the Idol Awards without the romantic undertone? What fight did the boys stage as part of their plan?

CW: Self mutilation (only mention), toxic parenting (thanks Celine), arguing.

Word Count: 2,024

Master List

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

What did Rumi and Jinu talk about?

“Okay, sooo…” Rumi drawled as she joined Jinu. The two had agreed to meet up the night before the Idol Awards to discuss Jinu’s answer. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Why does the bird wear a tiny hat?” She raised an eyebrow curiously at the three-eyed magpie perched atop its blue tiger friend.

“I made it for the tiger, but the bird keeps taking it,” Jinu explained, looking at said bird. Sussie only narrow its eyes at the two, daring them to try and take the hat from him.

Rumi and Jinu chuckled. She was surprised at how easy it was to get along with Jinu when she looked past his surface. Yeah, his appearance had flustered her at first, but he was just an ordinary guy.

“So, about tomorrow, have you thought about my proposal?”

Jinu’s face became solemn. “Look, I want to believe in your crazy plan, but I don’t think I’m the one to help you.” His mind was stuck on thoughts of you. The soft moments the two of you shared together. The self-inflicted marks you had on your arms from scratching at your patterns. He was conflicted. If he actually helped Rumi with her plan, would that help you or would it just trap you into a life of never fully accepting yourself if your patterns didn’t disappear? But if he went through with his own plan, would you hate him?

Rumi’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “Actually, you already have.” Jinu looked at her curiously. “I spent my whole life keeping this secret, this shame of what I am, and the more I hid this shame, the more it grew and grew until it started to destroy the one thing that gave me a purpose, my voice.”

Jinu listened to her quietly. He was frustrated on your behalf. Rumi spoke with no regard for you or what you were going through by also having to hide this part of yourself. But he couldn’t change the way Rumi felt about her situation.

“But since I’ve met you, and the more I talk to you, become friends with you, I don’t understand it, but somehow, my voice has healed,” Rumi went on.

Jinu listened as she sang.

“I tried to hide but something broke~ I tried to sing, couldn't hit the note~ The words kept catching in my throat~ I tried to smile, I was suffocating though~ But here with you, I can finally breathe~ You say you're no good, but you're good for me~ I've been hoping to change, now I know we can change~ But I won't if you're not by my side~”

There were flaws in her song, holes that made something inside Jinu ache. Rumi was still blinded by illusions. A reality that she wanted but wasn’t hers. And he ached because he was the source of Rumi’s comfort when it came to accepting a part of herself that you shared. It shouldn’t be him there, it should be you. Why couldn’t Rumi just talk to you? Why couldn’t Rumi see that you were hurting?

“Why does it feel right every time I let you in?~ Why does it feel like I can tell you anything?~ All the secrets that keep me in chains, and~ All the damage that might make me dangerous~ You got a dark side, guess you're not the only one~ What if we both tried fighting what we're running from?~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ What if we find a way to escape it?~”

Jinu kept back, keeping his distance from Rumi as she sang of false hope. ‘Escape it’? Escape a part of him that makes him who he is? He doesn’t always like that part of him, but it's still exactly that. A part of him. He couldn’t be so naive as to want to escape it. But he could feel the genuine emotions Rumi was putting into her words, her desire for a friendship like this. Someone who can understand her and see all of her without judgement. And Jinu wanted that too.

“We could be free, free~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ Let the past be the past 'til it's weightless~”

He just didn’t think he would be getting the non-judgemental relationship he wanted from Rumi. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want her friendship. So he opened up a little bit, let a crack shine through to his true self.

“Ooh, time goes by, and I lose perspective~ Yeah, hope only hurts, so I just forget it~ But she’s breaking through all the dark in me when I thought that nobody could~ And she’s waking up all these parts of me that I thought were buried for good~”

You. He told Rumi about you, vague as it was. The girl that reminded him what its like to be human. To care. To love.

“Between imposter and this monster, I been lost inside my head~ Ain't no choice when all these voices keep me pointing towards no end~ It's just easy when I'm with her, no one sees me the way she does~ I don't trust it, but I want to, I keep coming back to~”

And Rumi smiled with understanding. Because she had people like that too. People she wanted to be better for, to be able to open herself up to fully. She and Jinu really were a lot alike.

“Why does it feel right every time I let you in?~ Why does it feel like I can tell you anything?~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ What if we find a way to escape it?~”

The two sang together, voicing their similar hope and wish. To be free to love the people that they do. For all of them to be seen and accepted whole heartedly. No secrets. No lies.

“We could be free, free~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ Let the past be the past 'til it's weightless~”

The two felt like they were floating. Like they could share the deepest parts of them and the other would only accept it with open arms. Like they had known each other for years instead of just a few weeks.

“Oh, so take my hand, it's open (Free, free)~ What if we heal what's broken? (Free, free)~”

The two friends took each other’s hands. If the whole world fell apart and they lost everyone else, at least they would still have each other. Because Jinu knew the dark secrets that Rumi kept hidden from everybody else. And Rumi knew the light hopes that Jinu kept hidden from the world.

“I tried to hide but something broke~ I couldn't sing, but you give me hope~ We can't fix it if we never face it~ Let the past be the past 'til it's weightless~”

The two stood in silence for a moment, Rumi shocked at how strong her voice felt as she sang with Jinu, and Jinu shocked at how quiet his head was. That hadn’t happened around anyone except…you. “I…I don’t hear his voice,” Jinu admitted in his shock. “I’ll make sure the Saja Boys lose tomorrow.”

Rumi’s lips twitched up in a small smile, “Then we’ll both win.” Rumi looked down in consideration, tempted to leave without asking but her curiosity got the best of her. “Who is she?”

Jinu blinked, “Huh?”

Rumi jokingly rolled her eyes. “Who is she?” She repeated. “The girl you mentioned when we were singing?”

Jinu startled, his back straightening as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He hadn’t really thought that one through. “Oh, uh, a girl, just a girl I met, uh, during one of our performances. She…she just sees and accepts all of me,” Jinu told her, a blush on his cheeks.

Rumi was tempted to ask if this girl knew about them being demons but she couldn’t help but internally coo at how bashful Jinu was about this girl he obviously liked. She must be really special. “I’m happy for you, Jinu. If it all goes to plan, you should ask her out.”

Jinu chuckled, “Yeah, only when you finally ask out those two girls.”

Rumi spluttered, her face turning red, “Ah, no, we’re just friends!”

Jinu smirked, crossing his arms smugly, “But you knew exactly what girls I was talking about, didn’t you?”

Rumi only stuttered more, feeling caught, “No, just, they, they’re—ugh, just shut up. You’re so annoying sometimes.” She turned on her heel to leave. She desperately wanted to end this conversation. “Bye Jinu.”

Jinu couldn’t help but want to tell her the truth. About his past. He wanted this friendship with her to be genuine, to share who he really was. “Rumi, wait. I…”

Rumi looked at him expectantly.

“I…” He couldn’t do it. “I can’t wait to see you on that stage tomorrow.”

For you, he would betray Gwi Ma. He couldn’t be selfish. This way, you could live a happy life.

But then, as Rumi left, Gwi Ma summoned him to remind Jinu of the type of person he really was.

~~~

What were the boys fighting about during the Idol Awards?

The boys were tense. They had passed the Huntr/x girls earlier. Their skin crawled with the urge to do something. Just last night, you had been crying on their couch, in their arms, singing to them in your sweet voice about how you had been shoved into a mold that didn’t fit you. And those girls had played a role in it.

But they had to stick to the plan.

The five of them were in their dressing room, ready for their cue. The air was tense. The five of them knew the next part of the plan that had to happen, they had to come up with an excuse not to perform. They had discussed it earlier and decided to stage a fight between them. But it would only be believable if it was about a real topic. None of them wanted to start it.

“Jinu,” Kwan began, a frown on his lips and a furrow in his brow. “Are you really friends with Rumi? The girl who played a direct part in ruining (Y/n)’s life?”

Okay, so they were going with this topic. The other Saja Boys hadn’t gotten to know Rumi like Jinu had so there were definitely…opinions about her.

“You don’t know her, and yeah, she’s not perfect, but she is my friend,” Jinu rebutted.

“Sure, a friend who doesn’t deserve the sister she has,” Jum added fuel to the spark of agitation.

“It’s not like we deserve her either,” Hyeon crossed his arms, saying what they all had been thinking for a while.

Chungae bristled, “That’s not for us to decide, that’s up to her.”

”You know what choice she’ll make, she’s too good for us,” Jinu reminded them all bitterly.

“She is, but this isn’t the way to protect her,” Chungae scowled.

”Then how do you suggest we protect her, huh?!” Jinu burst out. “Please, I’d love to hear some other ideas!”

“This whole thing was your idea, don’t tell us you're tapping out now!” The five devolved into spitting vitriol at each other, whatever came to mind first.

“I’m not letting us all be sealed away, away from her!”

“Well, how do you think this is gonna end?! We’re on different sides!”

“What, and you wanna leave her alone with all these people?!”

A stage hand tried to get their attention, “Boys, you're on in two minutes!”

They continued.

“How are we supposed to protect her, love her when all we do is break everything we touch?!”

“All we can do is our best for her!”

“Our best is never good enough, look where it got us!”

“This is the best we can do for her?! Betraying her and throwing her to the wolves?!”

The stage hand turned to another, “Change of schedule, go and tell Huntr/x that they’re going on.”

Mission success. They separated to ‘get some air.’ The next stage of their plan commenced.

Outtakes:

*Later*

You: *earnestly concerned* “So…what did you guys argue about?”

The Saja Simps: *not wanting to tell you they argued about not being deserving of you* “Uhhh…”

Jinu: “Global warming.”

Chungae: “Nail polish colors.”

Hyeon: “Cats or dogs.”

Kwan: “Is water wet.”

Jum: “The meaning of life.”

You: “…”

You: “Okay, don’t tell me then.”

…

*Meanwhile, with Polytr/x*

Mira: “Why are you so close with Jinu…?”

Zoey: “Yeah, you two are oddly close for someone you’ve known for a few weeks.”

Rumi: “Uhhh…we bonded over our mutual dislike for a side of ourselves and sang about our emotions…?”

Mira and Zoey: *Gasp* “You sang an emotionally revealing and trauma bonding song with Jinu before us?!”

…

Taglist: @brights-place @itmechaosartist @reni502 @chin-chii @cultish-corner @enerofairy @mama-m1na @akariis4snowball @gremlinartstudio @shynotded @shadowmoonlight0604 @omgsuperstarg @neigesprincess @sleep-7372 @hurts-my-brain @kiwibackie @gh0stied3ath @naysha140 @theferretkids @lelantyuu @sexyindependentdowntospendit @hornehlittleweeblet2 @moonymoo1 @moochiwoochi @cheolright @crescent-z @prorpy @mey-archive @cami1qx @nerdalicios @xxsadlovexx @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @blackheart34 @anonymousewrites @scarletrosesposts @justanindiangirl12 @beexboo @tatsuri-zomushiki @call-me-nyxx @queenofviolenceandnerds @randomfan218-blog @jaybbygrl @unholycheesesnack @ocean-mochi @iviorienne @confusedparticle @otakusimp1 @nosbaby07 @fries11 @ri-eveowe @1950schick @libdarkheart @yourjustassaneasiamx @the-bookish-artist @anduinandwrathionlover @eternallyrosyfire @lysira340 @lansy-4 @strayharmony943 @maximumtrashchild @bleufu1 @minepugs @valeriele3 @arieslucy @nisarelle @suzieq1948374 @esposamultifandom

[itsmarsss]

cool. [Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader] (Diary of a Wimpy Kid)

(from the vault)

You start working as a babysitter for the Heffleys, but a certain someone seems to be bugging his parents to go out more often. Why?

Words: 6,164

Warnings: like one slight sexual/porn innuendo

[. . .]

"What do you mean someone to watch me?” Greg yelled, exhasperated.

Rodrick laughed out loud at the whole situation. “Wait is little Greg here getting a babysitter?”

“Yes, and she starts tomorrow night," their mom replied, matter-of-factly.

“Mom, I’m in seventh grade! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“We’d believe it if the last time we left the two of you alone you hadn’t directly disobeyed the only thing we told you not to do and thrown a party while we were gone," their dad explained.

“Wait. Mom. So I don’t have to watch him? Like ever again?”

“No but you should be ashamed of the reason why-”

“Hell yeah!”

“Rodrick-” He was already up the stairs on the way to his room. She sighed. 

“Mom you can’t do this to me. Do you know how bad it'll be if the guys in my grade find out you got me a babysitter?”

“They’re not gonna find out, sweetie.” She patted his head.

“And it’s not negotiable.”

“What your dad said.”

"Dad!”

“I’m sorry, kid! But if it makes you feel better, since Rodrick will be here and we’re getting a babysitter because we can’t leave the two of you alone, she’s teeechnically his babysitter too, right?”

“It doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I tried," he shrugged.

“Where are you two even going tomorrow?”

“We’re having dinner! " Susan exclaimed, excited to talk about it. "Alone, finally, because-”

“Wait couldn't she technically be Manny’s babysitter then?”

“Thank you for caring so much about what I had to say, son.” She sighed once again. “She’s not Manny’s babysitter because Manny’s gonna stay with your grandma.”

Greg huffed and made a point to be extremely loud when stumping upstairs to his room, immediately getting cornered by Rodrick. 

“So… a babysitter, huh? And I thought your seventh grade couldn’t get any worse.”

“D´you think it’ll be that bad?”

“Dude they probably got you an old lady who smells like a museum whos gonna make you eat soup at like five PM and sleep at seven.”

Greg widened his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, worried at the thought of what his brother was making him imagine. “You think?”

“Yup. And I’m not even talking about the total humiliation it's gonna be if someone your age finds out.”

“Crap.”

“Good luck with that.” Rodrick was obviously enjoying the mere thought of the torture that was going to follow.

. . .

“A babysitter?” Rowley asked, rather loudly. Greg quickly put his hand over his best friend's mouth. 

“Dude! Can you be quiet?”

“Hmmph!” Rowley tried to protest.

Greg released his hand from over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Why do I need to be quiet?”

“Because I don’t want anybody to know!”

“Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Rowley!”

Rowley just shrugged. “I wouldn’t be embarrassed. A babysitter sounds fun! Maybe she’ll read you bedtime stories! And play board games with you!”

Greg just looked at him incredulously. “Just don’t say anything about this to anyone., okay?"

Rowley suddenly started to look really nervous. “You know I can’t lie…”

“It’s not lying! It’s just not mentioning it! No one’s gonna ask about it.”

“Okay. Fine.” He didn't seem that sure about it, but Greg knew he'd try his best.

. . .

You took in a sharp breath before knocking on the front door. It took no time for it to be sprung open, and you were greeted by a smiling Mrs. Heffley. You retributed the smile. 

“Hi Mrs. Heffley!”

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” She asked as she ushered you into the house, startling you when she closed the door behind you as you walked in. 

“I’m alright! How about you guys? Your dress looks so pretty!”

“Oh my God, thank you! You know it’s been ages since I’ve worn a pretty dress to go out, you can’t trust three kids with a pretty dress, they're always gonna ruin it.”

“Oh God that must be hell,” you laughed along with her. “Where are you guys headed tonight?”

“Looking forward to having dinner in peace,” she laughed again. “Manny!” she yelled suddenly, startling you yet again.

A little boy walked in in his diapers, holding his pants up with both hands. 

“Manny can you just please put on your pants?” Mr. Heffley followed the kid around, frustratedly asking him for what you assumed must have been at leat a fourth time to put his pants on, judging by the tone in his voice and the sigh that accompanied it.

“No!”

“Manny!” Ms. Heffley yelled yet again. The kid did what he was supposed to.

“Um I didn’t- is Manny gonna be staying with me tonight?”

“No! No,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re taking him to my mother’s house.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” You tried to let out how relieved you were. Little kids were a whole other level of difficult, specially at Manny's age.

“Darling are you ready?” Susan asked her husband.

“Yeah! Yeah.”

“Greg!” she yelled again.

“What?” The boy yelled back from his room upstairs. 

“Y/n’s here! Come say hi!”

“Who’s y/n?”

“Your babysitter!”

He came downstairs. Very slowly. “Mom I already-” He stopped.  “You’re not an old lady!"

“Gregory! We don't say that to people! What is that about?"

“I’m sorry! I meant- Rodrick told me my babysitter was gonna be an old lady who smelled like a museum."

"Of course he did," Mr. Heffley said, under his breath.

You pretended to smell yourself. “I think I might smell more like an art gallery maybe,” you joked.

“I’m so sorry about this."

“It’s fine, Mrs. Heffley! Don’t worry about it. Now you two go have some fun, alright? Come on."

“Yeah! Okay. Right. There’s money on the table, you can order whatever you want for dinner the kids will eat whatever. Just grab the money before Rodrick comes downstairs or he's gonna pocket it. If you need anything you can call, okay? Really, anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! I promise I’ll call if anything happens! But I think we’re just gonna stay and eat some food and watch some movies, right Greg?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Please be nice, Greg. Oh and if Rodrick bothers you tell him I said he’ll be grounded if I hear he's not letting you work alright?"

“Sure thing! Thank you. Now go!” You joked, pretending to send them off.

. . .

You and Greg had both sat down on the couch in the living room.

“So. You’re not an old lady.”

“Nope.”

“Are you in high school?”

“Yes I am.”

“What grade are you in?"

“I’m a senior!”

“Oh. Rodrick’s a senior too.”

“Cool! I don’t think I’ve seen him around though.”

“Lucky.”

“Why’s that?”

“He makes my life hell!”

“Well don’t you make his life hell at least a tiny little bit?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“That’s just your job.”

“Trust me no girls like him.”

“Whatever, Heffley. So what do you wanna do?”

“Can we play video games?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“Apocalypse of The Damned?”

“I have never heard of that in my entire life.”

“You’re gonna like it I swear!”

“Alright. But you have to bring me the money your mom left on the table, I’m gonna order us some pizza.”

“Deal!” He ran out to the kitchen, getting back with the money in no time.

. . .

“Hey I was thinking. Can my friend sleep over?” Greg asked, obviously having been preparing himself to do so for the past few minutes, while furiously hitting buttons on his controller as you scrolled through your phone, having gotten tired of playing at that point. 

“Um. Is your friend gonna give me any trouble?”

“No! You can- you can trust us.”

“Is he annoying?”

He seemed to take his time to think of an answer. “A little. But he’s pretty cool.”

“Fine, I’ll ask your mom.”

You clicked on Mrs. Heffley’s contact name. 

hi mrs heffley

how's the date going? im sorry to interrupt

You didn't even have the time to finish writing the next text before she was calling you. You picked it up.

“Is everything okay?” Susan asked, clearly worried.

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine, you don't have to worry! I’m so sorry to interrupt your date, Greg wanted a friend to stay over and I just wanted to see if that’s okay with you.”

“Is it Rowley?”

“Sorry?”

“The friend, is it Rowley?”

“Is it Rowley?” You asked Greg, leaning away from the phone, to which he just nodded his head yes. “Yeah, Rowley.”

“Okay, of course he can! And don’t worry, I’ll pay you extra for it.”

“Oh, that’s really nice, thank you. Now you should go back to your date, I'm so sorry to bother.”

“No worries! Are you sure everything’s fine?”

“Yes! We ordered pizza and we’re playing video games right now. Everything under control.”

“And Rodrick?”

“Uh, I haven’t really seen him honestly. He definitely hasn’t left his room though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Bye!” You hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, call your friend. Ask him if he has any board games we can play!”

Greg did as you said, and, in about half an hour, a little boy with a yellow shirt with a dog on it stood at the door.

“Are you Greg’s babysitter?’

“Uh yeah, I am.”

“Cool!" He looked at Greg behind you. "You told me she was old!”

“Rowley!”

“What? You did!”

You laughed at the interaction and let them do their thing, only asking them to stay by the living room so you could keep an eye on them. You sat on the couch, scrolling through your phone again as you knew the pizza should be about to get there.

The doorbell rang in no time. You stood up to pay for it, grabbing the large-size pizza and tipping the delivery guy, who didn’t look very friendly at all. You brought it in. “Hey Greg can you go call your brother?”

“Yeah!”

He ran up the stairs, and you set the box down on the dining table, Rowley sitting down. Greg came back.

“He told me to bring it to him.”

“Why?"

"He just doesn't wanna come downstairs."

"You don't have to do it.”

“What? He’s gonna beat me up for it!”

“Not with me here. I got you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Chill out.”

. . .

“Hey you little asshole? I told you to bring my pizza!” A voice exclaimed from the second floor, and Greg muffled a quiet ‘shit’.

“Hey don’t say that!” You scolded Greg for swearing as a reflex.

“Hey? Are you not listening?” Rodrick was clearly close to the kitchen now. He walked through the door. “I said get me so-” he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you.

“Who’s this?” He asked the boys.

“That’s Y/N,” Rowley said, through gulps.

"And I'm right here you know? You could just ask me who I am."

“Well who are you? And what are you doing… here?” He leaned over the wall, in a poor attempt to look cool. You had to fight yourself tas not to laugh uncontrollably at the sight.

“Well I seem to be your babysitter for the night.”

“What?”

“Did you also expect an old lady? You know, that's a really common and really hurtful babysitter stereotype, you really should think about the things you say now.”

“Wha- huh- yeah- I’ll just-” He let out a weird laugh, and walked up to the table, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth, seemingly to shut himself up.

“Well we’re gonna watch a movie after we’re done eating. You wanna join?”

“Oh he’s not gonna-” Greg started talking, but Rodrick quickly interrupted him, almost choking on his food as he did so.

“Yeah! Yeah! What are we uh- what are we watching?”

“Zathura.”

“What the fuck is Zathura?”

“Don’t swear in front of them!”

“Sorry.”

Greg looked at Rowley like Rodrick had just gone insane. Did he just apologize?

You laughed. “I’m kidding. You guys don’t mind, do you?”

They both slowly nodded their head no. 

“Cool. As long as you don’t repeat it in front of your parents, alright? Don’t wanna get me in trouble.”

“We’re not five!"

“Well you do look like it,” Rodrick commented, and Greg stuck his tongue out at him.

. . .

“This movie doesn’t make any sense,” Rodrick commented, pointing at the screen.

“It’s not supposed to! It’s a kids movie about a magical board game,” you pointed out.

“Let me guess, did Rowley pick this one?”

“For your information, I did. You got a problem?”

“No.”

Rowley had, in fact, picked this one.

Greg and Rowley shared a look again. This was getting bizzarre.

The movie was over in about half an hour, and it was time for you to put Greg to sleep.

“But it’s so early!” The boy complained, and you laughed.

“I know, but you don’t have to sleep now, you just gotta go to bed! I can’t, like, force you to sleep.”

He let out an annoyed groan before agreeing and pulling Rowley with him by the wrist. “Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs in a few!” You yelled out, and went to the kitchen to wash the dishes from dinner. It wasn’t really something Mrs. Heffley had explicitly asked you to do, but you had those extra minutes and wanted to get on her good side. 

What you didn’t expect was to come in to find Rodrick still standing there, startling himself when you walked in.

“Uh hey!” His voice was high-pitched, clearly not expecting to see you there so soon.

“Hey.” You wordlessly walked to the sink, starting with the dishes. And then he offered to help you, which didn’t fit the image you had of him at all.

“What?”

“I said do you want some help? I can dry them.”

“Uh sure. Thanks.”

He just nodded, grabbing a cloth. “So did you put them to sleep yet?”

“Yeah they’re supposed to call me when they’re ready. Then I’m pretty much done.”

“Are you leaving like right after?” Was he… disappointed?

“Well not right after, your mom still has to pay me.”

“Right. She paying you extra for the dishes?”

“No,” you laughed, “just wanna score some points. This job’s good money, you know? But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

You nodded, a little awkwardly. “So what’s the deal with the van?”

“What?”

“The huge white van parked right outside? I assume it’s not your mom’s.”

“Yeah.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better color?”

“What?”

“You know something other than the classic creepy white van?”

He actually laughed. “I don’t think a creep would have ‘löded diper’ written on the door.”

“Maybe you’re just trying not to look too suspicious.”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” Was he… flirting? Well, that was… an attempt.

“What, are you inviting me? You know, I was taught not to get into creepy white vans with strangers.”

“We’re not strangers!” He held his hand up for you to shake, which you did. “I’m Rodrick.”

“Y/N.”

“So. Ho'wd you end up babysitting Greg out of all people?”

“I mean, your dad posted something about it in the newspaper and my mom told me about it. Some extra money, you know?”

“And you’re sure it’s worth it? I mean he’s a big pain in the ass.”

“Aren’t all brothers?”

“I’m not.”

“Right. You’re like a dictator to him!”

“No I’m not!”

“He was scared you were gonna beat him up if he didn’t bring you pizza.”

“He’s dumb. I wasn’t gonna beat him up that badly.”

You laughed. “Well, we’re done. Thank you for the help. You can go now if you wanna.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Oh my god! Stop trying to make me sound old! I'm some granny cinderella who turns into an old lady who smells like a museum when midnight strikes," you teased him, and he scrunched up his nose in embarrassment.

"Right. He told you about that.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. To be fair, I never had a babysitter, you know? I just thought they were all old and boring.”

“Do you think I’m old and boring?” You joked.

He snorted. “No, you’re pretty.” His eyes widened, realizing what he’d just said. Way to go. “Not in that- well not that you’re not pretty, you are, but you know what I mean. You’re uh- you’re pretty compared to what I- expected?"

It was stupid, but you could feel yourself blush a little. Why was it that you always fell for the most absolute idiots? “So I’m pretty… compared to an old woman.”

“I think you should let me start over.”

“But-”

“Y/N!” You heard Greg yell from upstairs, and you left the kitchen to go see him, going up the stairs and entering his room.

“Okay, we ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes!”

“Both of you?”

“Yup.”

“Okay I’ll believe you. But your mom told me you’re on thin ice.”

Greg rolled his eyes and both boys got on the bed. 

“Okay, goodnight. If you don’t sleep right away don’t make too much noise.”

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Why, did you actually like me?”

“Just a little.”

You smiled. “Well no. But I think I might next week.”

“Cool! ‘Night, Y/N!” 

“‘Night!”. You closed the door behind you, and walked downstairs to wait for Mrs. and Mr. Heffley to return so you could go home. 

You stopped on the hallway to send your mom a quick text saying you were fine and should be leaving in a few before making your way to the living room.

To your surprise, Rodrick hadn’t gotten back to his room. Instead, he was laying on the couch, his entire body draped over it as he scrolled through his phone. He sat right up when he saw you. “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey. You not have anything to do?”

“I’m offended. But no I don’t.”

You laugh, sitting down beside him. “Okay. Well your parents must be on their way, so. Don’t have much to do either.”

“You wanna watch something?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well a real movie.”

“Zathura’s a real movie! I like it!”

“You actually do?”

“Yes!”

“Whatever. Well an adult movie I mean.”

“Uh, an adult movie?”

“No! Not that kind!” He was blushing furiously and you found it hilarious. 

“Yeah whatever. What do you have?”

You ended up settling on a Marvel movie, but you barely had the time to start it before the doorbell rang, and you had to go get the door.

“Hey Y/N! I’m sorry we took so long, we had to go get Manny.”

“That’s fine! Rodrick and I were just about to watch a movie!”

“Rodrick came downstairs?” Mr. Heffley sounded genuinely surprised.

“Well you can finish it if you want!”

“Oh, no, I really should get going. We can finish it another time.”

“Oh well. Okay.” She put Manny down and grabbed her wallet, handing you your money. “Here, with the extra from Rowley. Hope they didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Oh they were so cool! I was surprised.”

“Oh that’s great to hear! If they haven’t traumatized you too much we’d love to have you sit them again.”

“Oh definitely! Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Are you driving home?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually walking. I thought we’d be done a little earlier.”

“Oh that’s not good, we can take you-”

“I can take her!” Rodrick yelled, almost falling off of the couch in his eagerness. He stood up, walking toward you. His dad looked like he was short-circuiting.

“Are you sure?” His mom asked.

“Yeah! Come on, let’s go.” He walked quickly past the front door and into the white van.

“Sure. Bye Mrs. Heffley!”

“Bye sweetie! Tell me if he bothers you too much!”

You walked towards the van, getting in on the passenger’s seat. He turned the engine on in silence. There was an awkward atmosphere surrounding you, and you didn’t know why.

You cleared your throat. “So uh. Thanks for driving me.”

“Yeah it’s chill. Where do I turn?”

“Oh let me just- give me your phone.”

“What?”

“So I can put the address on the GPS?”

“Oh. Sure.” He handed it to you after unlocking it, and you did as you said. 

“Turn left in 200 feet,” the disembodied voice said, and he did.

“You don’t have to uh- do these things for me. You know, drive me home, help me with the dishes. It’s nice, but I’m not gonna tell on you if you don’t.”

“I know. I uh. I want to.”

“You wanna do the dishes?”

“I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Fine.”

You got home pretty quickly, as you didn’t live a long way from the Heffley residence, and got out of the car. 

“Thank you for driving me! Goodnight.”

“Yeah!” Rodrick yelled back, and waited for you to get in to drive off. There was a smile on your lips you couldn’t shake off, and you felt stupid for it. Was the weird wannabe rock band kid really having an effect on you?

. . .

On wednesday, you got a call from Ms. Heffley again. And then on friday, and saturday, and sunday. This could not be normal, right? But it was money, so you obviously wouldn’t refuse it. So you pulled up to the Heffley residence for the fifth time on sunday, knocking on the door as usual.

Greg opened it this time, greeting you with a confused expression. “You’re here again?”

“Miss me, kid?”

“Are they going out again?”

“Apparently.”

“Mom, Y/N’s here!”

“Oh hey sweetie! Thank you for coming!”

“No problem! Where are you off to today?”

“Well we’re going bowling. Rodrick found us these pamphlets at the mall and wouldn’t stop bugging us about trying it out, so we decided to give it a go.”

“Oh he did?” That was strange.

“And you seem to have things so under control! I can’t believe we’ve been going out so much!”

“Well I’m happy to hear it. When will you be back?”

“I’d say eleven if that’s not too late for you?”

“Oh definitely not! As long as Rodrick can drive me.”

“Oh that won’t be a problem. You ready, darling?” She asked her husband, who walked by holding Manny in one arm and a huge bag in the other. 

“Yeah.”

"Everything there?” Susan asked him, referring to the bag. She turned back to you. “Manny’s staying over at my mom’s for the first time today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Yeah!" You exclaimed, not really getting all the excitement about it. You supposed you would if you were his mom. Right now you were just happy you didn’t have to watch over him too. Little kids were always more difficult. 

“Okay bye everyone!”

Greg and Rodrick were right behind you the moment you closed the door.

“Can we make pasta?’ Greg asked, and damn, the little dude must have had some sugar because he looked like he’d downed like three energy drinks at once.

“Well yeah. I make a killer pasta. Is Rowley coming today?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool.”

“Do you want help with the food?” Rodrick finally spoke up, and Greg looked at him like he was speaking Greek.

“Sure.”

“Are you okay?’ Greg couldn’t contain himself from asking him.

“What do you mean, assface?”

“Did you just offer to help with the food?”

“Yeah?”

“Who are you?”

“Oh shut it, dickhead.” You didn’t miss the nervous glance he gave you, clearly signaling something about you to Greg. And then Greg seemed to figure something out, his eyes going wide.

“Oh! Is that why you-” Rodrick looked alarmed, putting his hand against Greg’s mouth to keep him from talking, but he managed to get himself free. “Is that why you’ve been trying to get mom and dad to go out all week?”

“Hah. Don’t know what he’s talking about, pssht.” Rodrick laughed nervously.

“Uh sure. Well I’m already hungry so I’m thinking early dinner and then we can make dessert?”

“Yes!” Greg yelled.

“Okay but if we’re making the food you gotta set the table. Deal?” 

Greg groaned in annoyance, but agreed. “Fine.” He went on his way, and you and Rodrick made your own way to the kitchen.

“So,” you started, as you grabbed the pasta from the cabinet. “You’ve been trying to get your parents to go out all week.”

He looked everywhere but at you. “Uh, I don’t know what the kid’s on about.”

“Well, shame. Cause I was gonna thank you.”

“For what?”

“Well the more times a week I work the more money I get right?”

“Oh right. Right. So yeah you can thank me.”

“So you were setting them up to go out. Why?”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool. “Wanted to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now. You could be in your room. Or like out with your friends or whatever.”

“I didn’t anticipate that you’d actually be cool.”

“Oh you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah.” 

The water started to boil, and you threw the pasta in the pot, stirring it with a fork.

“Cool. You’re kinda cool too. You know when you’re not trying to be impressive.”

“I’m not trying to impress you!”

“I didn’t say you were trying to impress me .”

“Well I was.”

“You were.”

“Did it work?”

“Why’d you want to impress me?”

“Cause you’re cool. I wanted you to think I’m cool too.”

“Huh. Maybe I do.”

“Cool.”

“Y/N I’M DONE! I THINK ROWLEY’S HERE !” Greg’s voice came from the dining room.

“I didn’t hear the doorbell, are you sure?” You yelled back, walking past Rodrick to get the front door. Maybe you were too lost in the conversion to hear it, because the boy was standing right there when you opened it.

“Hey Y/N!” He said with a smile, greeting you with a hug, which was very on-brand for the kid. 

“Hey Rowley. You alright?”

“Yeah! I brought water balloons!”

“You did?”

“Well they’re not full of water yet so they’re just balloons but yeah.”

“Cool! You should tell Greg!”

“Will you play with us?”

“Oh I don’t know, I don’t have clothes I can get wet-”

“Well that’s not a problem!” Rodrick said, and you frowned in confusion. “You can borrow mine!”

“Oh I don-”

“C’mon, Y/N, you really gonna disappoint the boy?”

“Shut up. Fine, but you’re playing too.”

“Deal.”

“Yes!” Rowley exclaimed, before taking off, presumably to go find Greg.

“Well you wanna go up to my room?” Rodrick asked, apparently having otten some confidence from out of the blue, sporting a cocky smirk.

You laughed. “You wish. Just bring me a t-shirt.”

“Yeah. Someone’s gonna be looking like the number one Loded Diper fan out there.”

“If you bring me a white shirt I will beat you up!” You yelled, and he was already on his way upstairs. You took the past out of the pot, mixing it with the sauce you’d made, which was the easiest one you could find.

Rodrick was back as soon as you set the pot down on the table, handing you a gray shirt that , of course, had ‘loded diper’ written on it in terrible handwriting. 

“Thanks.” You draped the shirt over your shoulder and all of you ate in silence, apparently all stupidly hungry for some reason.

You were done pretty quickly, but made sure to get Greg and Rowley to promise to help with the dishes this time, since there were more.

“Okay! We’re gonna get changed!”

“Yeah me too!” You yelled back, making your way to the bathroom, changing into Rodrick’s gray shirt.

It didn’t hang as loose as you thought it would, and you laughed at the thought of Rodrick wearing a tight shirt for no reason. You supposed it was an old one he decided to turn into loded diper merch. Loded diper. What a stupid fucking name. You guessed it was fit. 

Someone knocked on the bathroom door. Rodrick. “You done? These kids are little demons, they talk so much!”

You laughed, unlocking the door and grabbing your own shirt before opening it. 

“Hello?” He looked wide-eyed, like his brain was malfunctioning, staring profusely at his shirt. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Fine. The shirt alright?”

“Yeah. A lot smaller than I expected. Does Rodrick Heffley wear crop tops?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “Sometimes. That bad?”

“No.”

“Chicks dig the crop tops, you know.”

“Oh do they?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess I’d have to see you in one to give an opinion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening any soon."

“Shame.”

“What?”

“I said let’s go.”

You barely had the time to walk into the front yard before Rodrick was hit on the face by a huge water balloon. You turned to see a terrified-looking Rowley at the other side. Rodrick gained his bearings again. 

“Oh you’re in, you little shit!” He seemed way too determined on winning this, but who were you to judge?

Him and Rowley occupied themselves with each other pretty much the whole time, as you did with Greg, until you got hit rather strongly in the back. You stopped what you were doing, which was aiming your next balloon at Greg, who was right in front of you, and turned around to see Rodrick laughing at you.

“Motherfucker-” you cursed yourself mentally for swearing in front of the kids, hoping they wouldn ‘t tell on you, and launched the balloon at him at full speed, it landing on his chest. 

“Hey!”

You played for about half an hour more until the sun set, and you decided it was best to get back inside. All three complained, and you laughed at the situation, because you supposed you did sort of sound like a mom when trying to convince them to get in, but they ended up listening.

“Okay what are we watching tonight?” You asked as you closed the front door behind you and dried your feet on the mat by the entrance.

“Oh can we watch a horror movie?” Greg asked.

“Nope, we know how that ends.”

“But we’ve changed!”

“It’s been less than a week!”

“People change!” Greg tried to plead, but you knew Mrs. Heffley wouldn’t like it if you caved in.

“No can do, Gregory. We can watch that Adam Sandler movie you wanted though.”

“With the little kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

You were halfway through a second movie when the boys decided it was time for dessert, and you still had a little while before the Heffleys came back, so you decided you’d all bake cupcakes.

They didn’t turn out as great as you wished they would, but also weren’t half bad. They were a little flat and maybe a little toasted on the top, but were otherwise pretty edible. You covered them with some frosting and ate them as you finished the movie.

It turned out when you were done the Heffleys still hadn’t come back, so you decided to put the boys to sleep then. You came back to Ridrick looking at you at the other end of the hallway. 

“Hey,” you said, not expecting him to be there.

You stood there in silence for a few moments before he cleared his throat and started talking.

“Um do you wanna hang out? ‘Till they're back?” It was funny, with him. One moment he’d be full of confidence, flirting with you at the max, but, in a second, his entire demeanor would change and he’d look unsure, insecure to ask you anything.

You were starting to wonder if he wasn’t just being a stupid hormonal teenager and if he actually, maybe, had a little bit of a crush on you. But you wouldn’t entertain those thoughts, of course. First because you could be completely misinterpreting the situations, and second because you needed the job, and you hadn’t gotten enough of a read on his mom to know if she’d be cool with that.

Still, you did have nothing else to do but scroll through your phone as you waited. “Sure.”

“Oh! Cool. Uh, my room’s right there,” he pointed to a white door by his left, and you followed him in. It actually looked pretty cool. It was sort of exactly what you expected his room to look like, except maybe a little messier, if that was possible.

To each their own, I guess. It’s not like you were the cleanest person to ever walk the Earth. You sat down on his bed, and he opted to sit down on a beanbag just in front of you.

TIt's safe to say things were a little awkward. “Uh. So. Cool room.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You studied the multiple posters he had glued to his walls. “Oh, The Cure. Cool.”

“Yeah. They’re not like super my style or anything. But they’re cool.”

“What would be your style?”

“I don’t know. Hard rock.”

“Huh. I don’t know. You just look like one of those guys who like rock but secretly listen to Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber or something when they’re alone.”

“What- what I would never- I don’t-” busted. 

You laughed at him as he tried to deny it. “I think it’s cool.”

He stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah. Taylor Swift’s cool.”

“Yeah uh. Girls dig that.”

“Do you really know what girls dig or do you just make random guesses?”

“I’m well-informed.”

“Oh are you? You have a girlfriend or something?” Subtle.

He scoffed. “Pfft. Yeah.”

“Uh- huh.”

He gave in. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay”

“You're a girl. What do you dig then?”

“What a romantic way to phrase that question. I guess I don’t know. Never stopped to think of it. What do you think we dig?”

“Uh. Bad boys?”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah I guess. But it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether they’re nice to us.”

“So you want bad boys who are actually nice.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Uh. But I can be nice.”

“Who said you’re a bad boy to begin with?”

“Um rock band? Cool eyeliner?” He motioned to himself, mockingly.

“Well who do you wanna be nice for?”

“Uh. You? Obviously.”

Your smile faltered. There was the confidence making an appearance again.

“What?”

“Uh. You know. So I can uh- practice. For other... girls?”

“Right.”

“Or maybe not.”

“Okay I ‘m lost.”

“Do you wanna go out with me? ” He blurted out at rapid speed.

Okay, sudden much? “What?”

“Uh. We could… go to the movies or something? You seem to like movies.”

“Right. But as a… date?”

“Yeah.”

You thought about it. It was just a date, it’s not like his mom would get mad about a date, right?

“Sure.”

“What?”

“I said sure.”

His eyes widened, he didn’t seem to have been expecting a positive answer. “Oh! That’s cool! That's- cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

He began standing up. “Well, do you wanna-” In that very moment, before he could finish, the doorbell rang, and you made your way past him, running downstairs and getting the front door. 

“Y/N! How are we?”

You hoped the blush on your cheeks wasn’t as visible as it felt as you talked to her. “We’re great! Greg and Rowley are already in bed, Rodrick and I have been uh. Hanging out.”

“Oh that’s nice of him!” She turned to face her husband, who, in turn, grabbed your wrist. 

“What have you done to him? Are you some sort of witch?” He asked you.

You laughed awkwardly. “Oh it’s all him! He was showing me the posters in his room, we like the same bands!”

“Oh do you uh. Like rock too?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Well we’re taking too much of your time. Is Rodrick driving you home?”

Oh, right. Shit. He was.

“Yeah I uh, think so.”

With that, he walked into your view, holding up the van keys. He’d apparently put on shades, probably so his parents wouldn’t see he had eyeliner on.

“Why do you have sunglasses on?” Mr. Heffley asked him as he walked past them.

“It’s called fashion, dad!”

Mrs. Heffley handed you the money for the night, and you went on your way, getting into the van with Rodrick, who, by now, didn’t need the GPS to get to your place. Except he wasn’t driving to your place at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanted a slushie. That cool?”

“I guess.”

He stopped by a 7/11 and bought each of you a slushie and some chocolate bars, which you ate outside. The wind started to get harsher, and you crossed your arms around your chest for warmth. He caught on to that, taking his striped hoodie off and giving it to you. You looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah but you’ll be cold.”

“Rockstars don’t get cold.”

“You’re not a rockstar.”

“Not yet."

You raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

"Just take it!” 

You did, and put it on. This one hung looser than the shirt you’d borrowed earlier. It did help. You tried your best to contain the smile that was insisting on forming on your lips. You knew it was dumb.

“Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, and you could see him smirk, proud of himself. “You’re so cheesy. Wouldn’t take you for it.” 

“I’m not cheesy. I’m just not an asshole.”

“You kinda are.”

“Shut up!”

You ate in silence for a bit before you decided to say what was on your mind. “Hey about that date?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know if we should do it.”

He tried to seem chill about it, but he looked a little hurt. “Why?”

“Well it’s not that I don’t want to! I do. For… some reason,” you added, trying to lighten up the mood. “But do you think your mom would be cool with it? I mean I don’t wanna lose this job and I don’t know if she’d really like us being alone if we’re dating.”

His face lit up. “So you’re thinking about dating me?”

Oh, you’d messed up big time now, he’d never let this go. “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I think it is.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh we’re using big boy words now?” He grinned.

“Shut up.”

“Well. Don’t think that should be a problem. They don’t have to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What, do you tell your parents everything? They don’t have to know we’re dating.”

“Yeah but we’re not dating.”

“Not yet.”

“Shut up!”

“They don’t have to know we’re going on a date, then. Plus, the days you work can be like little dates.”

“Yeah except there will be two children up our asses.”

“You can manage.”

“Fine, Heffley. But if I lose my job you’ll be owing me. Like literal money.”

“Deal.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah. Cool.”

[. . .]

A/N: sometimes ur 20 pages into a diary of a wimpy kid rodrick heffley oneshot and you ask urself wtf am i doing with my life. this is the product of that. i wrote this THREE YEARS AGO WOW so i edited some of it to post it here but nothing major cause i didn't want it to lose its energy lol. btw i was in fact like. actually in high school at the time lmao. luv yall!

[brucedefender4eva]

Before everyone goes crazy on this post

I just wanna clarify that I imagined this only happens, like, once a week every two years or so. Very sparsely does Bruce ever do this to any of his children

This is totally not aimed at any particular comments or reblogs, I wanna make that very clear.

Sometimes Bruce gets tired, and instead of going about the problem like he usually does, which will most likely end up with yelling and hurt feelings, it’s more of a gentle parent response.

Bruce is like: “Hey, I’m telling you not to do this thing. If you do it, I’m going to let you suffer the consequences for it because I cannot keep having this conversation with you when you keep disregarding what I say.”

And then his kids don’t listen and want to argue, so he lets them suffer the natural consequences. He’s not ‘giving up’ on them. Bruce doesn’t give up on people

And with this, all of the bat kids in the post are adults aside from Damian, who Bruce is giving him space so they can cool off before they say anything irreparable to each other.

With adults who mostly no longer live with him and often have very big arguments about how they are adults and don’t need him micromanaging their lives, he’s letting them be adults. He's giving them the space that they always ask for and letting himself have some peace.

Is he worried? Yes. But this is what they wanted, and it is their fault that it didn’t work out. They know he's disappointed and they know why.

I don’t believe that just because they’re his children, it doesn’t mean he can’t check out for a bit and let them figure it out.

If this was a regular parent, I’m sure the not really broken leg with Dick would be a total red flag and seen as neglect or abuse but they’re not regular people.

Bruce has tried plenty of times to have his children be regular civilians, but they want to continue being vigilantes, so they’re going to suffer vigilante consequences, especially if Bruce warned them and they did it anyway.

Bruce will send them a text and let them know he's always up for a talk, or he'll make Dick's favorite protein shake and let him pick out a movie for them to watch togehter. I just didn't put that stuff in the post.

So basically, I was going for a ‘gentle parenting’ outlook. He’s also just human, and he gets tired of all the arguments his kids expect or purposefully go looking for.

I guess I didn’t write it that well and it might have come across wrong but yeah ( ^ω^ )

Again, no hate to anyone. I just wanna explain my thought process for it.

<Next>

[e1e4n0r5]

Their Little Plaything: 3

Part 1, Part 2

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Bullies Cait & Vi x Loner Nerd Reader

Words: 4650

Synopsis: Cait and Vi introduce a few new things to you

Warnings: Bullying/mocking, power imbalance, FFF threesome, secret filming of sex*, mention of masturbation with toy, fingering (r! receiving), sex toys (anal beads, nipple clamps, butt plugs, vibrators, dildos) strap-on, strap-on referred to as cock, description of masturbation with sex toys, squirting, mild degradation, mild spit play, dirty talk, praise kink, finger sucking, anal fingering (r! receiving), anal sex (r! receiving), double strap usage, mild choking/breath play

Notes: We've got more of this to come!

Secret filming of sex*: I don't want to spoil the story but I need to disclaim this now: this is not a revenge porn/public humiliation scenario. Those recording do not intend to release the footage or show it to any third parties. It's a toxic behaviour that will be addressed in a future chapter. I do not condone or encourage this behaviour.

A few days later, and thankfully without a second visit from Sky, you got a text in the group chat. You still hated the chat name ‘Plaything’ but your tummy always got fluttery when you saw a message come in.

It was Cait, sending you an address.

Caitlyn K: 7pm?

You: That works for me

Caitlyn K: You remember we talked about those toys of yours?

You: …Yes? 😳

Caitlyn K: Bring everything you have, we’ll see what we like when you get here

At 7pm, the Uber pulled up outside a large ornate house. Not quite a mansion, but a house most people would dream of living in. You thanked the driver, then walked up to the front door, admiring the house as you went.

Ringing the doorbell, you waited.

Cait answered a few seconds later. She looked as perfect as she always did, tight-fitting navy blue blouse pristinely tucked into tailored pants. “You’re on time. Good.” She stepped aside, letting you in.

“This is your house?” you asked in amazement, looking around at the marble floors and ornate decorations. Art covered the walls, expensive rugs protected the shining floor.

“Her family’s rich,” Vi explained, leaning against a doorframe as she looked you up and down, “remember?”

“My parents purchased the house in the summer before we started at Piltover, so we could live somewhere suitable.”

“Live somewhere forever? Because this is beautiful,” you gushed, not even noticing Cait taking your hand and pulling you into the kitchen.

She chuckled. “Don’t be silly; this is just our college home. We’ll move somewhere else when we graduate.”

“Another family property,” Vi smirked, joking, “I’m gonna be a trophy wife.”

“Is your wife single?” you joked back.

Cait eased the Piltover Uni tote bag off your shoulder. “Is this all of it?” she asked, not looking through it yet.

You blushed, suddenly remembering why you were there. “Yeah, that’s everything.”

Vi leant one elbow against the kitchen island. “Hey, sweetheart,” she called to you, “come here.”

You walked over, standing in front of Vi. And waited.

She smirked back at you, looking you up and down ravenously. “Pretty skirt.”

You looked down, touching your blue flowy knee-length skirt. “Thank you.”

“Bend over,” Vi instructed, nodding her head to the counter.

You flushed. “Bend…?”

“Bend. Over.”

You hesitated but obeyed. The counter was a little higher than your hips, so you had to pull yourself up a little, your feet dangling off the floor.

Vi lifted your skirt over your hips and snickered when she saw your underwear. “How many times do we have to tell you, sweetheart?” she teased, pulling them down and stuffing them into her back pocket.

“Are you going to take them every time?” you demanded, trying not to blush as Vi’s fingers spread your pussy, exposing your moist hole.

“Damn right we are, until you learn not to wear them.”

“But people will see-”

You gasped as, in a split second, Vi bent down to your pussy, spat on your hole, and slid two fingers into you.

Cait laughed as she looked inside the bag. “I said bring what you have, not go and buy out a sex store.”

You trembled as Vi turned her fingers inside you. “I didn’t!”

She did a double take at the bag’s contents. “You already had all this?”

“Yes,” you whined.

“And you’ve used all of it?”

“Most of it.”

Cait laughed, rummaging through the toys inside. “Well, you were a horny little freak.”

Vi curled her fingers inside you. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Cupcake; what’s she got?”

Cait just shook her head in disbelief, laughing as she started pulling out items, placing them one by one on the counter next to you. Multiple sets of anal beads; nipple clamps; half a dozen butt plugs; several vibrators of different sizes; different brands of lubricant; and an unopened beginner’s leather bondage kit, including a blindfold, ball-gag, wrist and ankle cuffs, a small paddle, and a small flogger.

Vi’s fingers stopped in your pussy. Looking over the array of toys now spread out on the counter, she grinned at Cait, then into the camera recording you all from the side from its hiding place in an outlet in the wall,. “Well, well, sweetheart. You are just full of surprises.”

“This,” Cait said, picking up the bondage kit, still in its clear packaging, “I’m curious about. You clearly haven’t used it; were you too scared?” she asked in a patronising tone, bending down in front of your face, holding up the kit.

You shook your head, lip trembling as Vi resumed fucking you. “It was a joke gift-”

“A gag gift, you mean?” Vi mocked with a chuckle.

“From some people I worked with over a summer. They said it would get me out of my shell.”

Cait ran her thumb over your bottom lip. “Oh, but you had no-one to use it with,” she taunted.

You shook your head, your clit throbbing as Vi started curling her fingers.

“How about we open it when we go upstairs? Finally put it to use?” She slipped her thumb into your mouth, and you sucked it with a moan. “Which of those is your favourite?” she asked, nodding her head to your collection but keeping her eyes on yours.

You blushed as you glanced at them from the corner of your eye, Cait’s grip on your mouth keeping your head straight. “Lots.”

She raised an eyebrow at you. “Tell us.” She kept her grip on you, turning your head to the side so you could see more clearly. “How did the lonely little virgin spend her Friday nights?”

“I’d…” Vi started thrusting faster, like a woman on a mission, “Oh god…I’d put the clamps on.”

“Hmmm,” Cait nodded.

“Put in some beads.”

“Any particular ones?”

“I like those ones best,” you pointed to the average sized black beads connected by a flexible thread.

She nodded again, feeling her own pussy grow wet at the thought. “And then?”

“And I’d play with my pussy with that vibe,” you finished, pointing at a relatively small pink realistic vibrator.

“Very nice,” Cait praised. “Shall we recreate that upstairs?”

“Not yet, Cupcake, we’re not finished here,” Vi insisted, reaching a hand under you and starting to rub your clit.

A strange feeling started to build up inside your pussy, making your legs shake. “Wait, Vi, stop! I-I need to pee!”

“No, you don’t,” she ignored you, continuing her thrusts.

You gritted your teeth, fighting against the feeling. “No, really, stop! I don’t want to pee!”

“Sweetheart,” Cait said softly, turning your head back to look at her, giving you a firm but reassuring look. “You are not going to pee. Just let go, and see what happens.”

You wanted to resist – it seriously felt like you needed to pee! – but they were both so sure you wouldn’t. And they would know better…

You forced your body to relax, taking a deep breath, allowing the feeling to build up inside you. You panted as you rocked your hips on Vi’s hand.

“Good girl,” Vi praised, rubbing your clit a little faster, “Just let go, baby. Let go.”

With that, your pussy clamped down on her fingers and violently squirted all over her hands and the floor. You gasped for breath as your hips writhed on the counter, your feet scrambling for purchase against the cupboard doors.

“Fuuuck,” you breathed out, moaning as your eyes rolled back, flopping down on the counter.

“Good girl,” Cait praised, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Let’s take a few things upstairs.”

You sprawled across the counter as they moved around you, Vi washing her hands in the sink, and then helping you up on shaky legs. You looked down at the floor, seeing the large amount of liquid splattered there.

“Oh god!”

“It’s not pee,” Vi assured somewhat testily, holding you against her front.

How could it not be?! you wanted to ask. “Are you sure?”

Vi’s hand cupped your cheek, turning your head to hers. “What did we say before you came?”

You whimpered. “That I wouldn’t pee.”

“So, are you calling us liars?”

Your eyes widened. “No! No, I swear.”

“It’s squirt, not pee. So, stop fussing.” She started pulling you upstairs, leaving Cait in the kitchen to choose some toys.

Their bedroom was just as finely decorated as the kitchen and foyer. A large rug covering most of the marble floor, one wall covered in spotless floor-to-ceiling mirrors, a bookcase filled to the brim with books and knick-knacks on another wall. Against the wall in front of the door was an extra-large bed covered in fresh sage green sheets, a violet-coloured throw spread across the end.

You were only able to marvel at the décor for a second, before Vi nudged you further inside, pulling her shirt over her head. You watched in awe as her torso and breasts were revealed, your hands automatically reaching for her.

She chuckled. “Eager, are we?”

You just nodded, cupping her breasts.

“Good,” she said, cupping the back of your head and pulling you in for a deep kiss. You moved your arms over her shoulders, running your hand through her hair as she cupped and squeezed your ass. Pulling you against her front, something hard rubbed into your lower tummy.

You pulled away briefly, giving her a playful squint. “Have you got something in your pocket?”

“Something that’ll wipe that smile off your face,” she challenged. “On your knees.”

Your cheeks turned redder, but you obeyed as Vi opened her jeans. Around her hips was strapped a larger toy than before, thicker and more detailed. Without Vi saying it, you sat on your heels, opening your mouth and waiting patiently.

She chuckled as she looked down at you. “Oh, such an eager little slut, aren't you?” You didn't blush; you nodded. She was impressed at your eagerness. “Then get to work.”

You leaned forward, taking the tip of the toy into your mouth. You slowly slid your mouth up and down the toy, unsure of your movements but enthusiastically trying your best. You couldn’t get very far down before you coughed and gagged, but Vi soothed you, stroking your cheek until you tried again. You didn’t get any further, whining unhappily.

Vi laughed, pulling out. “Don’t worry, sweetheart; you’ve got plenty of time to practice.” She sat down on the floor, only a few feet away from the large mirrors, pulling you into her lap. “Open again,” she held up her middle and ring fingers, sliding them into your mouth. You moaned around the digits, moving your tongue over them, keeping your eyes locked with hers.

Pupils blown wide, her own cheeks flushed, she smirked at you. “Little slut,” she said affectionately. Pulling her fingers out, she moved them to your pussy, sliding inside again. “Gotta get you warmed up for this strap.”

“I’m warm!” you protested, riding her fingers.

“Oh really?” she raised an eyebrow. “You think you can take this?” she nodded down at the toy glistening with your spit.

“Yes,” you whined. “Just fuck me!”

She laughed. “Alright then, you asked for it.”

Pulling her fingers out, she aimed the toy at your entrance, pulling your hips to slowly lower you onto it. It stretched you immediately, making you gasp and groan. Your breath caught in your throat as she forced you further down, not stopping until your hips pressed against hers, the toy pushing against your cervix.

“See? I told you,” she mocked, rocking your hips back and forth a little, letting you adjust.

“Fuck,” you breathed, trying to hide your wince.

“Think you’re a big girl now? That you can take any cock you see?” she challenged.

You shook your head. “No,” you pouted.

“You gonna believe us in future when we say you need warming up?”

You bit your lip, nodding. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Good, so you’ll listen to me now.” Cait appeared in the doorway, your tote bag hanging from her hand, a strap around her own waist. Looking closely, you saw your small pink vibrator attached the harness.

“Cait?”

She approached you seductively, her hips swaying as she walked. “Where do you think I’m going to put this, darling?”

You paused, opening your mouth as a guess when she stopped in front of you.

They both laughed at you.

“Try again,” she taunted, kneeling behind you.

“What?” you squeaked, trying to look around but Vi held your cheeks, forcing you to look at her.

“You can’t dangle those toys in front of us and not expect us to play with your ass,” Vi smirked.

“But you’re already in-”

“And this is why I’m going to warm you up,” Cait chided, taking a tub of lubricant out of your bag, “If you’ll allow me to, Your Highness,” she mocked.

“Ohhh…” you moaned, a little worried.

Vi held you tightly, moving you both to lie on your side, her hips sliding her toy in and out of you slowly. “Just relax, baby,” she soothed, kissing your neck. “We’ll take care of you.”

Warm fingers pressed cold lube to your back hole, making you twitch. Cait rubbed the lube around, before gently sliding a finger inside. It was so much, with the toy already stretching your pussy, but not enough at the same time. They both filled you slowly, carefully, letting your body adjust to both of them.

When you were moaning loud enough for them, your head thrown back and eyes closed, Cait reached into your bag, pulling out a small camera. Half the size of a Rubik’s cube, she turned it on and angled it between your legs, directly at your holes. Vi pulled your top leg up, holding it back to your side, opening and exposing both your holes.

Slowly, she added a second finger, making you gasp and shudder as she stretched your ass just a little. “Breathe,” she coaxed in your ear. “Well done.” She pumped her fingers inside you gently, turning them slowly, stretching you a little. With her free hand, she coated your toy with some more lube, moving onto her side behind you.

“Ready?” Cait asked softly in your ear, pulling her fingers out of your ass, holding the base of the vibe to your hole.

You nodded desperately. “Yes. Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck my ass,” you begged, and were rewarded with Cait sliding the toy into your waiting hole. You moaned softly, your eyes closing as you felt Cait turn on the vibe, the sensations moving through your body.

Cait rocked inside you, letting you adapt to the feeling of being filled fully in both holes. “Are you alright, darling?”

You panted. “So full,” you whined when Vi slowly started moving again. You let your head hang down to the side, too weak to keep it up.

Vi gave Cait a look above you. “Sweetheart, look in the mirror,” she said, knowing you were too tired to do so.

As if you’d planned it together, you whined sadly. “I'm too tired.”

“C'mon, try for me,” she encouraged, knowing you wouldn't be able to see anything anyway.

You weakly lifted your head up, but you couldn't see around your propped up leg. “I can't see,” you complained, flopping your head back down.

Vi hummed thoughtfully. “Do you want us to show you later?”

“Show...later?” you asked weakly, your clit throbbing from the sensations in both holes.

“We could record it? Show you later?”

You whimpered at the thought of them filming you. “But…Who else would see?”

“No-one,” Cait promised firmly from behind you, kissing under your ear. “No-one else gets to see you like this.”

“Just for us, sweetheart.”

You hesitated. That sounded risky…

Vi continued. “Imagine having something you can look back on, something to remember this moment.”

Cait added, “And you’d remember how your body felt, how we feel inside you right now, filling these little holes. You could remember that every time you watched it back.”

You whimpered again, it did sound fun when they said it like that. “O-Okay. Just for us though!”

Cait smiled at the successful ruse, reached for her phone inside the bag, and resting it on the floor between all your legs, next to the small camera that was already recording. She angled it directly at your holes, pressing the record button. When the timer started counting, she returned to kissing your neck.

“You’ll look so pretty for us, sweetheart, our star of the show.”

“You wanna say how this feels?” Vi asked, stroking your thigh as she supports it.

“It feels so good,” you whined weakly.

“Louder for the camera, baby,” Cait coaxed in your ear.

You trembled at the mention of the camera, even as it made your pussy leak. “It-It feels good,” you said louder. Vi raised an eyebrow at you, urging you to continue. “It feels good in my pussy. In my ass too.”

She smiled proudly. “You like having a vibe in your ass?”

You nodded. “It feels really good. It's making my clit throb.”

Cait smiled against your cheek. “Well done, sweet girl,” she praised. “Reach your hand down, play with that button for us.”

You moved your hand down your body and rested it on your clit, rubbing gently. You didn't want to cum straight away.

“Good girl,” Vi praised, looking down at you rubbing yourself. “Show the camera how much you want to cum.”

You moaned loudly, rubbing faster as you imagined what the camera was capturing. As you drew closer, your holes started clenching on the toys, your hips rocking between the two women.

“I’m cumming,” you gasped, your fingers moving faster.

“Wait for us, sweetheart,” Cait breathed in your ear, chasing her own climax as her strap vibrated against her clit.

Shaking your head, you panted, “I can’t.”

Vi took hold of your throat, squeezing firmly. “Cait said wait, baby. Do as she says.”

The blood rushed to your head as Vi kept her grip on your throat, both women working themselves towards orgasm. You’d stopped rubbing your clit as it threatened to send you over the edge too soon, but Cait took over, forcing you to hold yourself back until they were ready.

When they were just about to cum, Vi released your throat. The sudden rush of air and blood, combined with Cait’s manicured fingers on your aching clit, sent your brain into overdrive. All three of you climaxed simultaneously, all writhing and moaning together, your bodies moving as one.

When you all settled down and caught your breath, Cait gently pulled out of your ass, earning a groan from your tired throat. Sitting up, she picked up the small camera off the bed, stopping the recording. Switching it to photo mode, she quickly pointed it at the three of you, taking a few post-sex selfies, you and Vi clearly visible in the background. With your head down and breathing deeply, you were none the wiser about what Cait was doing, but Vi smirked at the camera, kissing you or rubbing your body, at one point giving the camera a ‘rock on’ hand sign as she stuck her tongue out. Pointing it at you, she took a few more, then stood up, heading into the bathroom. She hid the turned off camera in a drawer, slipping the harness off.

Heading back into the bedroom, she picked up her phone, stopping that recording. Stroking your leg gently, she called your name.

“Sweetheart? You want to take a look?”

It had been a few weeks since that night, since Vi and Cait had finally asked, out loud and deliberately, if they could film you. You’d said yes, conditionally. From then on, you always said yes when they held up a camera or their phones, and they grinned like you were giving them a gift each time.

At first, it felt like control. Like a choice. And the look in their eyes, how hungry they were to capture you, to remember you; it had made you feel flattered, even powerful. You’d flushed under Cait’s praise as she scrolled through shots afterwards, and Vi’s rough kisses had made your heart flutter in ways you hadn’t expected.

After that, it became something regular. Not constant. Not predictable. Just often.

They’d ask. Usually. Cait with her soft, coaxing tone, or Vi with a smirk and a tilt of her phone. Sometimes it was during sex, sometimes it was after, when you were curled up in their bed, bare-chested, blinking blearily as your brain tried to function again after being fucked dumb. Sometimes it was video, sometimes pics. Sometimes both.

You tried to keep track. Tried to remember all the times you’d agreed. You told yourself it was fine. That you trusted them. That the way Cait sometimes didn't ask was just forgetfulness, or heat-of-the-moment urgency. That the one time you noticed Vi filming from the side of the bed as you ate Cait out on your knees…Well, maybe she’d just assumed you’d be okay with it, since you always were.

Your stomach always twisted after those moments.

But you didn’t stop. You never stopped.

Your dorm room was quiet, late afternoon sun stretching long and lazy across the carpet. The warmth clung to your skin as you sat on your bed, your phone buzzing steadily in your hands.

Cait had been sending more photos again. A drip-feed of images from the past few weeks. Ones you remembered approving. You tapped through them slowly, mouth watering. As they had told you during the first time they asked, your body flushed and throbbed as you remembered what you were doing when the photos were taken.

You saved each one.

Your phone buzzed again. Another image. You tapped the screen.

It was from two nights ago: their room, soft lighting, Cait’s fingers splayed across your bare stomach, Vi’s hands on your breasts. The photo was angled from above, beautifully framed, almost cinematic. You remembered that moment. You remembered saying yes.

A knock on your door broke you out of it. Heading over, you opened the door for Powder.

“Hey, babe!” she greeted cheerfully. Holding up a bag of snacks and drinks, she stepped inside. “Ready for that new season?”

The two of you lay together on your bed, her phone connected to a mini projector, casting the TV show onto your ceiling. The volume wasn’t too loud – you were still paranoid about a formal noise complaint, even though the three of you had stopped having sex in your room. Cait had added you to her Uber account, so you go over whenever you wanted, her family's card footing the bill.

Your phone buzzed every so often, but you ignored it. It was most likely Cait, sending you more things. You couldn’t open those messages next to Powder!

After about the tenth buzz, Powder paused the show.

“Just answer that, would you?” she teased, sitting up and getting a drink.

You sat up too, turning a little so she wouldn’t be able to see your screen. You were right, it was Cait. And the photos were rather intimate. She’d sent a few photos, but also made some GIFs from videos. Your own body parts and theirs filled your group chat.

“What are you looking at?” Powder asked teasingly, seeing your blushing face.

You held your phone against your chest. “Nothing!”

“I don't think ‘nothing’ makes people blush like that. Oh wait, is it Vi?” she grimaced.

“No. No, it's Cait.”

“What's going on?”

“Just some pics.”

Powder oooh'd playfully. “What kind of pics? Naughty pics?”

You blushed. “Maybe. Of us.”

“Of you? Together?” You nodded. “Like, sex pics?”

“Uh, yeah,” you laughed nervously.

“Oh my god, show me! Nothing with Vi in it!”

Your eyes widened. “Really? You want to see that?”

“I bet you look hot! C'mon, show me,” she winked.

You supposed one pic couldn't hurt. You held your phone close to you, so Powder couldn't see – to which she groaned dramatically and looked away – and looked through all the pics Cait had shared with you over the weeks. You flicked through, looking for one that was either just you or just you and Cait.

You found one, turning your phone to Powder. “For both our sakes, don't swipe!”

“Alright, alright, jeez...”

The pic you'd selected was of you and Cait. You both knelt on the bed in front of the large floor-length mirror, her front pressed to your back as she filled you with a strap. You couldn’t see her breasts or pelvis, only her side profile, so you’d felt comfortable showing Powder. Her hand closest to the mirror held the phone by her side, her other hand turning your face to the mirror and the phone. She was smiling, you looked blissfully fucked out.

“Wow! Holy shit, Y/N, you're gorgeous! Look at your tits, they’re so perky. Why do you hide them under those clothes?”

You blushed but enjoyed the compliments.

“What's that?” Powder asked, zooming in on the image.

“Don't zoom in! You might see something you don't want to see! What if Vi’s in the background?”

“Well, what's that? Is it a camera?”

Your head shot up, grabbing the phone from her. You squinted at the zoomed in image. Your slightly old phone didn't cope very well with the pixels but even you could tell what you were looking at. In the back of the room, obscured on a shelf in the back, was undeniably a small camera. Pointed directly at the bed, a small red pixel above the lens. Had the camera been recording? You remember that day, Cait hadn’t said anything recording videos, she only asked for that one photo.

“You guys record too? Jeez, I don't even want to imagine what footage you have. You could probably make a fortune online though.”

You felt sick.

And you continued to feel sick for days. You felt like there were bugs crawling all over your skin, and your stomach twisted and flipped anytime you thought of the women. You'd successfully avoided them since you made the discovery of the camera in the background of that photo, telling them you’d caught a stomach bug and were recovering in your dorm. They wished you well but didn’t come over, though Cait had sent a courier with rehydration meds, anti-nausea pills, and some food packs.

Since then, you'd spent hours trawling over every frame in every photo and video Cait and Vi had sent you. You didn't find any other cameras, but some of the files felt off to you. You couldn't always remember when they'd been taken.

Most of them, like the one with you and Cait on the bed, you definitely remember happening. You remember seeing one of them pick up the phone or camera, ask you if they could take something, and the files matched what you'd been doing in the moment. But some other files...You weren't sure you remembered. One video was you on your back, Vi riding your face as you fucked yourself with a toy. Cait had been with you, but she had supposedly been pleasuring herself too, not taking videos of you. Some photos of either woman using a strap on you, normally with your ass up, face buried in a pillow or the covers.

Like you hadn't known the camera was there.

You went to the coffee shop early one morning, hoping to get your mind off those images. You knew it was too early for Vi or Cait to be on campus; on Thursdays their first class was at 11 and they stayed home until then.

You sat at your usual corner table, quietly and miserably reading a textbook, trying to get back into your study habits, when a soft accented voice spoke.

“Sorry to bother you; are you Y/N?”

You looked up, really not wanting to talk to the pretty redhead with freckles. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry, we haven't met before. I'm Maddie. Can we talk?”

@sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516

[oldermenfucker]

Holding you, Holding me / M. Robinavitch

masterlist / next

ONE: I can see you

Summary: your parents’ wedding anniversary brings you and your mom’s friend closer to each other, closer than it should be, but there is no harm if no one finds out, right?

Warnings: fluff, Mom’s best friend trope, kissing, tension, alcohol consumption, age gap (Robby’s 50, Reader is 26)<3

Word count: 6.5k+

an: i SUCK at writing first chapters so excuse me if this isn’t my usual style lol but hopefully i can get you excited enough to read the rest of this fic cause WE ARE JUST GETTING STARTED TEHEEEE

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill this form please<3

Post layout is inspired by the lovely @robbyology ‘s posts<3

Idk who this dividers belongs to if you know please tell me<:

Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell, yeah And I could see you being my addiction You can see me as a secret mission Hide away and I will start behaving myself

“Honey,” Dana knocks on the door, slowly pushing it open when you reply with a quick ‘come in’ and pin your hair up, “The guests are here, would you mind helping me for a bit?”

“‘Course, Mom!” You nod, fixing the end of your dress before you walk up to her, hugging her tightly, feeling her arms wrapping around you as well, “Happy wedding anniversary.”

“Thanks, baby,” she kisses the side of your head pulling back to look at you again, beaming as she tells you to give her a twirl, “You look so beautiful, especially in this room. It’s like you’ve never moved out.”

“I moved out five years ago,” you raise your eyebrows at her, chuckling when she groans and rubs her palms up and down on your arms. 

“I know, I know!” She squeezes your shoulders, her hands gliding down to grab yours, “I’m so grateful for this marriage cause you were born from it— I swear if you say that word!”

“I didn’t say anything!” You laugh, threading your fingers through hers, leading her out of the room slowly, “But you know, I wasn’t exactly born from it, kind of bought into—“

“Thank god you moved out,” Dana pinches your arm playfully, pulling you to her side as she walks towards the staircase, “Cause I can’t deal with your constant reminder, as if you aren’t my first child.”

“Hey, Mom, look at me,” you turn her to face you, snaking your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulders, “I’m just teasing you, you are the best mother ever and I’m so fucking glad that I’m a part of this family.”

“Don’t make me cry,” she whines and hugs you back, pressing you close as she holds you in her embrace, “I love you so much, honey. You made me a mother, I’m forever grateful for you.”

“I love you too,” you kiss her cheek, slowly moving away from her before looping your arm through hers, “C’mon, we’ve got some guests to talk to! Who is here already?”

“Heather came in early to help despite telling her specifically not to do such a thing. Mel and Frank just arrived, a few of your father’s friends and their wives,” she explains, her hand moving as she talks, “There are still a few people left, but we gotta start early.”

“Let’s get some alcohol in their system,” you say, moving toward the kitchen with Dana on the toe, finding Heather sipping on a glass of water while she leans back on the counter before she spots you, “Hey!”

“Hey, sweetie!” She pulls you in for a hug, rubbing her hand on your back as she asks how you have been doing, leaning back to her previous position as you mimic her and rest your elbows on the counter.

“How you managed to come here with a baby at home is beyond me,” you lean into her side when she chuckles and wraps her arm around your shoulders, “Especially with how attached your little boy is. I’d call in sick and snuggle all day.”

“Believe me I’ve done that lots of times,” Heather chuckles, “But this time I couldn’t resist. I had to be here to watch your mom handle everyone like she is in the ER.”

“Fuck off, you two,” Dana rolls her eyes, handing you a tray of cocktails to take to the table she has set up in the backyard, “I’m not the charge nurse here, I’m just a happy wife—“

“Right, that’s why you’ve cooked ten thousand meals,” Heather snorts when you say that, “A happy wife in charge of her circus.”

“Stop it— go get the door,” Dana laughs, grabbing the tray from your hands before she and Heather start talking and moving the drinks and plates outside.

“Yes, Ma’am!” You walk to the front door, reaching for the doorknob to open it as the ring goes off again, “Coming!”

“Hi!” Samira greets you, throwing herself into your arms as soon as you pull the door open, wrapping her arms around you, hugging you tightly, “I missed you! Where have you been?”

“I missed you too, ‘Mira,” you hug her back, grinning when she squeezes you in her embrace, “Work’s been so busy lately but— oh, Jack?” 

“Hello,” he gives you an awkward smile, raising his hand to give a little wave while holding a large bouquet of roses with his other arm, “How are you?”

“Did you two—“

“No! No, no—“

“Samira—“

You pull away from her, looking at her with wide eyes, a devilish smile threatening to take over your face as you stare at her, waiting for an explanation.

“We arrived here together by accident! I swear—“She shakes her head frantically, but you can notice the subtle hint of a smile on her face, she knows she is caught, but that is a discussion for later.

“Alright, alright,” you squeeze her arms, stepping to the side so Jack can come in as well, “Welcome, Jack.”

“Thank you,” he nods, giving you a pat on the shoulder as he passes you to put the flowers down next to the other gifts, “Where’s your mom, Slugger?”

“Giving me my mom’s nickname now?” You laugh, pointing at the hallway leading to the backyard, “Outside with Dad and his friends, probably talking about some boring stuff.”

“Stop acting like a teenage girl,” he raises his eyebrow at you before he walks past you, putting his hand on Samira’s waist to lead her to where the group is drinking and he catches the way your jaw hits the floor, “Not a word—“

“Accident my ass, you guys are dating—“

“Not. A. Word.” 

You chuckle in disbelief as you watch Jack wait for Samira to walk out first, waiting a few minutes before he also joins everyone outside. You linger back, sighing softly as you go back to the kitchen, picking up a piece of cheese from the plate you are sure your mom has put for the wine she wants to open later. 

The doorbell rings again, this time catching you off guard. You are sure everyone is already here given how loud the group is, even your little sister is there with your parents, enjoying her time with all the attention she must be receiving.

You walk to open the door again, turning the doorknob before you are met with the sight of Robby; he looks just as handsome as you remember, with his signature blue shirt that he has rolled up his sleeves and his quite worn-out jeans. 

He looks casual, like he has done this ten times already, and knows nothing serious is going on. And he has; you remember how exactly last year he showed up on time to chat with your mom, or the year before that with a box of pastries that you and him sat down to devour on the stairs leading to the backyard.

You didn’t think he would show up, it had slipped your mind completely. But now, seeing him here with another box of pastries that he has cherry-picked himself for the two of you, you are glad he has decided to come.

“Hi,” you smile at him, leaning on the door as you wait for him to say something instead of just beaming at you, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I can never miss Dana’s parties,” he shrugs, stepping inside when you open the door further, and he easily towers over you, his smile widening when he sees you beaming up at him, “Besides, I had to bring my yearly payment. Napoleon and Paris Brest for you, sweetheart.”

“You didn’t have to!” You take the box from him, giving him a sheepish smile before leading him to the kitchen to put the pastries in the fridge, “Thanks, Mom’s gonna be happy that you are here.”

“Only Dana?” He teases you, leaning on the countertop with his hands in his pockets, watching as you reach for two glasses from the cabinet with a flustered smile, pulling out your father’s Kentucky Bourbon to pour for him, “Does he know you drink from his secret stash?”

“Of course, he does,” you hand him his glass, clinking them together before you take a sip from your drink, face twisting at the burning feeling down your throat, “How can you drink this shit? I can barely handle it.”

“Years of practice with Abbot on the rooftop.”

“You drink bourbon on the hospital’s roof? You’re insane, I’d rather get my hand chopped off than be your patient,” you turn around, resting your back on the edge of the counter, your arm brushing against his as you look up at him.

“You were my patient a few times, be grateful I wasn’t drunk when I was treating you,” he smiles sarcastically, the lines on his face deepening so beautifully it almost makes you stutter.

“Thank you for not killing me and getting a lawsuit, doc,” you roll eyes, looking down at the amber liquid in your glass when you hear his warm chuckle, followed by a clicking of his tongue, “You’re not gonna go out there?”

“I will, eventually,” he explains with mild indifference, “I see half of these people every day, I just need a break from Langdon jumping around me even if it’s for ten seconds.”

“Understandable,” you nod, watching through the glass door how your sister engages with Heather and Mel, “Wish I could be as comfortable as she is around people. Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong there, you know? Not because I’m adopted, but…”

“I get it,” he nudges your arm by his elbow, looking at you softly, “I feel the same sometimes. You are not alone in this, not at all, sweetheart.”

“I love them but I feel outcasted because I can’t join their conversations easily,” you say, nudging him back before you rest your head on his arm, “Good thing we have each other in these parties, huh?”

“Yeah, cheers to that,” you raise your glass but look at it with a frown, really not wanting to drink the horribly warm and bitter liquor. He sees how you hesitate, shoulders moving as he chuckles and shakes his head, drowning the last of his glass before he grabs yours, rough fingers brushing over your soft ones briefly.

“I’ll have that, go get yourself something else,” he smiles, “Dana’s Gin and Tonic is always the best, maybe you can have her make one for you.”

“Not when Dad’s got all her attention, and I’m supposed to be the host tonight and let her enjoy her anniversary. Though a beer sounds very tempting right now, you can get me a Gin Tonic later,” you push yourself away from the counter, walking to the fridge and opening the door, finding the cans already on the coolest shelves.

“You’ve already planned our next meeting, have you?” Robby asks, crossing his arms over his belly, making his biceps bulge under his sleeves, “Gonna give me a run for my money?”

“My mom’s friends are doctors, you bet I’d make you spend money on me,” you watch as he puts the glass down next to his hand on the counter, reaching for the can in your hand silently, opening it up without you asking him for it, “You have a lot to making up to do.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he smiles, wrinkles deepening around his eyes when you snort, thanking him softly when he hands you your drink, “I’ve been doing doubles lately, can’t even remember the last time I had a night off.”

“You’re doing double shifts? With Abbot? C’mon, Robby, you are much better than that,” you stand in front of him, giving him a teasing look when he leans down with a surprised smile on his face, “You should take a break.”

“Abbot is much nicer at night, trust me. But you’re right, I need a break, and I definitely should make it up to you. I’ve been… busy.”

“Nope, I know you,” you point at him, pressing your finger on his chest, “You’ve been thinking, which isn’t a good thing at all, means you’re worried or depressed.”

“‘M not depressed, I’m going to therapy,” he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer gently when he brings your hand to his face, brushing his lips on your pulse point, his beard rubbing against the smooth skin and leaving a delicious burn.

“Both can coexist,” you grin, feeling your cheeks heating up when he doesn’t let go of your hand, “You should take it easy on yourself, I don’t want my uncle to end up in his department.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, rolling his eyes at you playfully, “How many times do I have to tell you to not use that word? I’m not your uncle, I’m anything but your uncle.”

“I know! But it’s worth the reaction every fucking time,” you laugh but it soon dies out when you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen. You pull away from Robby, walking to a cabinet to make it look like you are busy with your back to him.

“Finally, here’s our sad boy!” Dana waltzes in, pulling Robby for a hug with a gentle pat on his arm, “Where’ve you been? You didn’t even answer my call.” 

“Really? Must have missed it then,” he shrugs, hugging her back, his eyes meeting yours across the kitchen, “Something came up and I had to stop on my way here.”

“What could possibly be more important than my party, Robby?” your mother pulls away, smirking knowingly, thinking she has got him all figured out, “It doesn’t matter cause Heather and everyone is already here.”

You tense slightly at the mention of Heather’s name; you have been there, you saw it all. How they fell in love, how they were so happy, and how it all crashed after Covid. And during all those times, you had to battle the silly childhood crush you had on Robby.

Robby notices the very tiny shift in your attitude, watching as you take a large sip from your beer, smiling when your mom turns around and winks at you with her hand still on Robby’s arm, looking between the two of you before she raises her eyebrows at him.

“Are you keeping my daughter hostage here because you hate socializing?” 

“If anything she is keeping me hostage—“

“What the fuck, Robby! Don’t blame me for your lack of friendly communication skills.” You gasp, hiding your face between your hands when he chuckles and your mom follows his lead, walking towards the fridge to pull out the champagne she put there to cool for the night.

“It’s his trick, honey,” Dana looks at you, pointing at the ice bucket with her head, “When he doesn’t wanna take accountability, he’ll shove it on someone else.”

“That doesn’t sound like him at all!” you glance at Robby, finding him shaking his head and hiding his smile behind the whiskey glass he is bringing to his lips, “You choose when to take accountability or not? That’s so weird.”

“No, Dana’s being mean again,” he grabs the ice bucket from your hands, going to where your mother has opened the freezer to fill the bucket with ice cubes, “After living half a century, you learn a lot and knowing when you are wrong is one of the lessons. And right now, your mother is teasing me for coming late. I am not in the wrong.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should be so grateful that my best friend is here and didn’t ditch me for some boring book he borrowed from my other boring friend,” Dana puts the champagne between the cubes, grinning sarcastically at Robby who only shrugs, “Now get out there, both of you before my dear husband thinks you hate him.”

“I’ll take that,” you grab the cold bucket from Robby’s hands, leading him out of the kitchen, giggling when you see how the heat crawls up his neck to his face, “Don’t be embarrassed, she roasts everyone, dad included.”

“She is like a ghost who’s been haunting me from the first day we’ve known each other,” he pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans, following you through the hallway until you stop and turn to look at him.

“How much will you pay me if I pull you away from the party as soon as possible and put you out of your misery?”

“All you can think about is money, get out of here,” he laughs and opens the door for you, “I’ve already done enough for you today. You ought to pay me back this time.”

“Oh, wow,” you snort, lips parting in surprise, “Just because you bought me some pastries doesn’t mean you get free will under my mom’s roof, uncle.”

“Fuck you,” he groans, urging you to go outside, and when you don’t and only smirk at him, he puts his palm on your waist and pushes you gently out of the door, making sure you carefully step on the stairs.

“Look who’s finally here!” Frank says, making all the heads turn towards you and Robby, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Hello,” Robby waves awkwardly, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Is it too late to turn around and disappear?”

“Yup,” you glance at him, grinning without hesitation, knowing he is already regretting stepping out, especially now that he has to greet everyone he sees every day, “Smile and be pleasant enough so they can tolerate you.”

“I’m always pleasant to be around,” he rolls his eyes at you briefly, scoffing when Langdon walks closer, Mel in tow, “Ah, here he is.”

“Where have you been, man? You’re late to the party.”

“The party doesn’t start without a glass of champagne,” you jump in, giving Mel a side hug before putting the ice bucket on the table with all the food your mother has placed, “And the champagne is not opened yet, so technically he is on time.”

“You always have his back,” your father chimes into the conversation, patting Robby’s back when they greet each other, “Glad to see you, Robby.”

“Yeah you, too, congratulations by the way,” Robby smiles at your father, watching how Jack comes forward as well, ready to help Robby if he wants to escape your father’s poor attempt at humor.

“If I don’t have his back, no one else will,” you shrug, looking at Robby over your shoulder who only smiles at you in return, deeply grateful for your presence.

“Well, are you going to open that bottle or not?” Dana strides over to you, grabbing the champagne before handing it to your father, “Let’s get this fucking party started.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You roll your eyes when your father winks at Dana, reaching for the knife to do some dramatic cork popping, breaking the tip of the glass as your mom holds the glasses under the flowing champagne, laughing when everyone cheers.

You stand next to Langdon, clapping with others when your parents kiss and congratulating them. Everyone grabs their glasses and waits for your father to say something, and you catch a glimpse of Robby moving to stand behind you.

“Fifty bucks he’ll thank you too for existing,” Robby leans down to a whisper, grinning when you glare at him playfully.

“That’s not fair! You’ve heard his speech for at least ten years,” you say, taking a sip of your champagne, “I’ll bet he’ll thank you and Jack too, my wife’s best friends. I’d pay a hundred bucks to him just to say that and embarrass you.”

“You’re evil,” he groans quietly, giving Langdon an awkward smile when he glances at the two of you in confusion, only to get distracted by your father again.

“I learned from the best,” you reply, nudging his elbow with yours, pointing at Frank with your head, “What’s his deal?”

“Dunno,” he whispers back, shrugging as he waits for your father to start his yearly speech, “It’s probably because I kinda ignored him when I got here.”

“Oh, poor baby is upset,” you fake a pout, smirking when he coughs to hide his amusement, “Pay attention, Doctor Robby. The show’s about to begin.”

“My offer still stands, fifty bucks, you in?”

“You owe me a drink, remember? Keep the money, you’ll need it with your three hundred kay yearly check,” you snort when you see him shake his head at your words, drowning his entire glass in one move, “Easy, don’t want you to make a mess and ruin his award-winning performance.”

“Definitely Dana’s daughter, how can I ever forget,” he whispers, lips twitching when he catches you grinning shyly.

There is something so charming about him, the way he effortlessly manages to make you smile and get you all hot and bothered. You do not try to hide it anymore — you do when your mother is around — but it is out in the open, and you try to mask it up with the sort of friendship you have created with him so you don’t make him uncomfortable. 

Maybe he knows or doesn’t, it’s not like anything is going to happen between you, not when he is the textbook definition of a gentleman. Touchy yet respectful, like he does it to anchor you to reality when he is around. 

It’s your dirty secret, the silly crush of yours that makes your heart beat faster when he so much as glances at you. But you have never allowed yourself to dream more, to fantasize about hypothetical scenarios that you might have a chance with him, and you are sure he would shut you down immediately if you say anything.

“Hello, everyone!” your father starts, “I’ve said this speech for… at least ten years give and take and every year I try to come up with something new, but… nothing comes to mind. So, I’ll go ahead and give you whatever is in my head right now.”

“We’re screwed,” one of your father’s friends jokes, earning a playful glare from Dana and your father, and you snort before you see Robby shakes his head, giving you a nudge.

“Yup,” you whisper, pressing your lips to each other so you don’t giggle, “He’s gonna say it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“What?” You glance at him then look down at your fingers tapping over the rim of your champagne glass, “You were going to bet on it.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to make this harder than it already is for me,” he hisses, straightening his back with his palm on your waist and the way his long fingers spread on your back makes goosebumps rise on your arms.

“I live to make your life harder,” you make the mistake of turning your head to look at him because the grin he gives you meets the corner of his eyes, the lines on his face deepening. With a shake of your head, you look away, “It seems you do the same.”

“You’re cute if you think I’d let Dana’s daughter get away with something.” Cute, right, that’s all he sees you as.

“I’m my own person, not just her daughter—“

“It’d be appreciated if you two paid attention,” Your mother glares at the two of you with her eyebrows raised, “You’re lucky I’m feeling kind tonight or you’d be kicked out of this house by now.”

“Sorry, Mom,” you duck your head, giving her an apologetic smile, looking down at your feet with your lip between your teeth. Robby nods as well, raising his hand in apology so your father can keep going with his speech.

“That was close.”

“She caught us, Robby, it was more than close,” you hiss at him, turning your attention back to your parents, “Don’t talk anymore.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” You can practically hear his smirk, but you know if you turn around the said smirk will turn you into a melting puddle on the grass.

“As I was saying before I got rudely interrupted,” you roll your eyes at your father, “Being with Dana is something only one person is lucky enough to experience, and boy is it an experience!”

“You should see how much of an experience he is,” She runs her fingers through your father’s hair, “Not that I’m complaining, I love a good challenge.”

“I’ve been her challenge for twenty-something years,” he turns his head to look at her, “And I’ve loved every moment of it,” he dips his head to capture Dana’s lips in a soft kiss before he breaks it and looks around, finding you and your sister with ease, “And our daughters, thank you for being the fruit of our love.”

You catch your sister winking at you just in time, and you raise your glass in reply, watching how everyone else mimics you and claps for your parents — so does Robby, nudging you slightly to get your attention, giving you a look that screams ‘Told ya’ before he diverts his attention back to the couple kissing.

“I hate you,” you whisper and drown the rest of your drink, shooting him a small glance, shaking your head when he shrugs as innocently as he can.

“I doubt that,” you snort when he says that —not a lie, you feel so many things when he is around and none of them are hate — and take his empty glass from his hand. 

“Time to socialize, Robby. Your bestie is coming here.”

“You gonna pay for this later, sweetheart,” he walks away toward Jack and Samira after he gives your shoulder a squeeze, meeting them halfway before they start talking

You slowly walk away from the crowd, the noises enveloping your senses in the wrong way. You are not the biggest fan of these gatherings; they are lovely, yes, you get to meet everyone and have a drink and take a break from work, but by the end of it, there is no energy left in you because of how fidgety you were all throughout the night, how you overthink about everything you said and were going to say.

You linger around, popping chips in your mouth a few times so you don’t have to worry about eating dinner with all these people around — you can just skip it and go for the pastries in the fridge. 

Your gaze moves from your parents to your sister and at last falls on Robby. Fuck, he looks good under the bright moonlight and the yellow lights of the backyard, and it makes your heart race. Get it together! You want to scream, shout, and bang your head to the wall when you catch sight of him laughing at something Jack says.

As if he can feel your eyes on him, he turns around slightly just so he can catch sight of you, giving you one of his famous heartwarming grins that never fails to make your fingers twitch in excitement. You smile back, giving him a little wave before you see him moving towards Heather, instantly beginning to talk with a broad smile on his face.

You sigh, not a lie if he has told you himself that he still has feelings for her, and run a hand through your hair, humming softly before you sneak back inside the house. You can feel your surroundings fading away as the warmth of the house hugs your body instantly.

You make a beeline for the fridge, pulling out the box Robby brought earlier, smiling at the cold sensation of the plastic against your fingers before you walk out of the kitchen and upstairs to the balcony on the other side of the house — the little corner reserved for you and your sister. Luckily, she is too busy making everyone laugh to join you up here.

There is a bench with a coffee table in front of it and a visible view of the neighborhood to top it off. The bustle of the party is in the background now, the noises have grown quiet and the cold pastries in the box are tempting you to take them out and eat them alone — might as well do that. 

You put the box on the table and take a seat on the bench, taking off the lid before you bring one of the cream-filled pastries up to your mouth, taking a large bite and closing your eyes at the taste; it feels as if sparks fly on your tongue with how delicious it tastes. 

Robby knows you too well and it’s both maddening and lovely.

You are about to take another bite when you hear the familiar footsteps coming outside, finding Robby there in the doorframe just looking at you.

“Eating those all by yourself? Rude.”

“You were busy, didn’t wanna interrupt your fun time,” you shrug, taking another bite just to tease him, making a loud humming sound as the cold cream fills your mouth cavity, “Y’know? They taste better when I’m the one enjoying it and have no reason to share it with anyone.”

“You’re being mean just like—“

“Just like your mother,” you finish his sentence, giving him a cold look before turning your face back to the view of the balcony — he looks gorgeous and it’s making you sick — and taking another smaller bite, “Will you ever see me as a person and not just an extension of my mother?”

“What do you mean?” He chuckles and rounds the table to sit next to you — wait, was this bench always this small that now his thigh is pressed to yours? — and turns his head to look at you.

“I mean… It’s always ‘You do this just like your mother does’ and ‘You are Dana’s daughter’ and ‘You’re mean just like her’ and it feels like you don’t even see me as a person just my mom’s sidekick. Or, you might have been in love with my mom which then we’d have a bigger problem.”

“I’m not in love with your mom!” His voice grows thin as he laughs at your words, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’ve got no idea why I do this, maybe because I wanna make sure we have clear boundaries…”

“Boundaries? It feels like you wanna avoid something much more complicated than that,” you explain, taking another large bite out of the pastry in your hand, smearing the cream over your nose and lips, “Like you wanna do something but hold yourself back.”

“You are Dana’s daughter—“

“Jesus, Robby,” You groan, turning around in your seat as best as possible, your thigh nearly thrown over his as you try to give him an intense look, “I just told you—“

“I know, I know,” he nods, his hand that was resting on the back of the bench comes up to your head, stroking your hair before tucking a few strands behind your ear, careful not to ruin your hairstyle, “I don’t want to do something that we’ll both regret later. It’s safer to stay as Dana’s daughter than anything else when you’re around me.”

“Is it because of Heather?”

“Fucking hell, of course not!” He gives you a disapproving smile, “‘m not gonna deny that there is an attraction on my end, but we’re done, have been for a while.”

“Then you’re being ridiculous…” you don’t shy away from his touch, not now that you know and trust his words, “How are you so sure that we’ll regret it?”

“Because…” his thumb wipes the cream over the edge of your lips before bringing it to his mouth, holding your gaze as he swipes his tongue over his finger, flushing slightly when he notices how your eyes darken and dart down to his lips, “I can’t do it, if anyone finds out—“

“No one will find out—“

“They might,” he whispers, leaning closer, crowding your space, “and I can’t lose you for something so silly. I don’t do casual—“

“Neither do I but I’m not a pussy like you—“ he shuts you up with his — now wet — thumb over your lips, his face inches away from yours, and the sheer weight of his eyes making you squirm a bit.

“Careful, I’m not your dad. I don’t tolerate mouthy girls.”

“Good thing I don’t want you to be like him,” you say softly, leaning in as well, nudging his nose with yours, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face, “Don’t call me Dana’s daughter anymore.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart.”

It sure as hell feels like fireworks exploding in the sky when his lips meet yours in a chaste kiss, his hand threading in your hair as best as possible as he devours the sweetness of the pastry from your teeth and tongue.

You kiss back just as feverish as he does, not backing down at all. It’s not like you, because you have never been bold enough to say something up until tonight or take actions as risky as this, but it’s Robby, and he brings out a version of you that doesn’t shake with nerves.

He is gentle, not with his tongue but with his hands as they wander down to your jaw, tilting your head in a way he likes and kissing you at a pace that has your head spinning. 

You know you have crossed the line, but it doesn’t matter anymore, not that at least you know the feelings aren’t as unrequited as you thought they were. He kisses you like he has been holding back — perhaps he has — and it makes your body warm all over, face heating up and fingers twitching.

You mean to reach for his face as well, but you have forgotten the pastry you were holding in your hand, dropping it on his shirt and jeans when you try to cup his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry—“

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he replies breathlessly, picking up and dropping the remaining pastry in the box as he looks down at his now cream-covered shirt, glancing over at you as you reach over to try and take off some of the cream with your fingers, “Don’t worry about it—“

“Fuck, Robby, I’m so fucking sorry! Look what I’ve done, your shirt is ruined—“

“It’s not ruined–hey, sweetheart, look at me,” he cups your face in his hands, leaning down to peck your lips, hoping he can stop the overdrive your brain is probably taking with all the negative thoughts, “It’s okay, I’m gonna go wash it off, yeah? It’s a silly shirt, I have ten other pairs exactly like this.”

“At least let me get you one of my dad’s,” you stand up before he has the chance to say no, “And you take that off and drop it here so I can wash it tomorrow and bring it to you.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I insist,” you give him the best pleading eyes you can muster, grinning when he nods and stands up as well, following you into the house, “You can wash up in my ensuite bathroom while I grab you a shirt.”

“Alright,” he nods and walks through the room toward your bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt and peeling it off, turning on the facet before he starts wiping off the cream.

He hears you knock on the door, waiting for him to let you in and when he does, you step inside slowly, looking down as soon as you get a peek of his nude broad shoulders.

“Don’t get shy now,” he chuckles, handing you the wet shirt before he grabs the clean one from you, glancing at your flustered face as he begins to dress up, “It’s nothing you haven’t already seen.”

“Right, but that was in a pool and you didn’t have your tongue down my throat before getting in the water,” you drop his shirt next to the rest of your laundry, crossing your arms over your chest as you shyly look at how his muscles flex as he tugs on his collar.

“A minor detail, sweetheart,” he turns around, and you smile when you see how red he is, handing him a rag to clean up his jeans as well, “A minor detail that should never see the light of day.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t snitch to my mom about how her best friend was kissing me,” you roll your eyes and look down, fuck him and the effect he has on you. It was one kiss and yet, you already feel like you are about to melt into a puddle.

“Even the thought of it sends me to cardiac arrest,” he hands you his wallet as he wipes the cream off the front pocket of his pants, groaning as he sees the dark wet spot growing, “This all your fault.”

“Shouldn’t have kissed me if you didn’t want me to get you dirty.”

“You looked far too beautiful to resist,” he says so casually like it has been on his mind for a long time, “I’d do it again even if I knew you’d make a mess outta me.”

“Cheesy—“

“Honey, where are you? Have you seen Robby?”

“Fuck—“

“That’s Dana—“

You run out of the bathroom, throwing Robby’s wallet somewhere carelessly before making your way into the hallway, meeting your mom with an uneasy smile.

“Hey! What are you doing up here?”

“I was looking for you and Robby! Where did you two go?” She asks, pinning you down with a curious look, “Has something happened? Are you okay?”

“We were sharing the pastries I brought her. Clumsy me, I dropped the entire thing on myself,” Robby comes out, chuckling awkwardly as he stands in a shirt that doesn’t belong to him — it’s your father’s and Dana notices it immediately.

“At least she found you a clean shirt, you’re lucky it’s not his favorite,” she laughs, and you follow with a chuckle, trying to mask the bubbling anxiety inside you, “Alright, almost everyone’s left. I have no idea why since the night is just starting!”

“I should go too,” Robby says, walking to hug Dana and leave this very uncomfortable moment, “Happy anniversary again, I had a great time.”

“You’re no fun,” your mom hugs him back after she groans out the words, “But yeah, you have a shift tomorrow, get some sleep.”

“I’ll walk you out,” you offer, waiting for him to say his goodbye one last time before you follow him downstairs, making sure your mom is out of sight before you open the door and wait for Robby to step outside.

He grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for a quick breathtaking kiss, his lips slotting into yours passionately. You brace yourself with your hands on his chest, kissing him back before you have to part as soon as you hear some noises in the house.

“Goodnight,” you say breathlessly, licking your lips in hopes of getting a taste of him again, smiling as he strokes your head and steps away, giving you a quick wave.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

[slutforvoldy]

“ FATE HAD A BETTER TASTE THAN ME. ” ( kimi antonelli ! )

SUMMARY: the reader found a rare twin strawberry and planned to give the other half to her longtime crush, that is until her best friend ate it.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: mutual pining, teasing, fluff, slight angst, best friends to lovers, slowburn

pairing: kimi antonelli x bestfriend!reader

TODAY WAS THE moment.

The stars had aligned.

The fruit gods had smiled upon you.

You’d heard the story your whole life. Your parents met because of a strawberry. Not just any strawberry—a twin strawberry, fused together like two hearts meant to be shared between soulmates. Your dad swore he found one the day he realized he was in love with your mom. He gave her one half, ate the other, and boom—they got married and had you.

You always rolled your eyes at the story when they told it. You didn’t actually believe it, not really. But you always secretly hoped. Just once. Just one twin strawberry. A sign. Something stupid and sweet and maybe—just maybe—real.

And then today, as you opened a fresh box of strawberries after a long day at the paddock…

You gasped.

Right there, nestled in the corner like a tiny red miracle—a twin strawberry.

Two hearts, side by side.

A strawberry soulmate sign. A juicy, red declaration of fate. It was everything you needed for your completely unspoken, mildly obsessive, painfully one-sided crush on Ollie Bearman.

You held it up in absolute awe. “It’s real,” you whispered, “Oh my God, It's real!”

You squealed, spinning in a circle, practically bouncing with excitement. “Okay—okay. Stay calm. This is it. This is fate. This is the sign.”

Ollie was in the next room, yelling at the car sim, probably crashing into an imaginary gravel. Perfect. You’d give him half. Make a joke about true love. Laugh. Maybe he’d laugh, too. Maybe it would turn into something. Finally.

You took one delicate bite of your half, savoring it, heart pounding with butterflies—

And then, behind you—

“Hey, are there any good ones left?”

You turned just in time to see Kimi Antonelli—best friend, pain in your ass, snack thief extraordinaire—pluck the twin strawberry right from your fingers and pop it into his mouth.

"Kimi, no!"

Still chewing, he blinked. “What?”

You stared at him in frozen horror.

“…No,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” he mumbled through a mouthful of your destiny.

“NOOOOOOO—” you practically screamed, stepping back like you'd just watched someone stomp on a wedding ring. “Kimi! You ate my fate!”

He looked at you like you’d grown three heads. “It was a strawberry?”

“It was the strawberry!”

He blinked. “You mean like... a special brand?”

You gaped at him, hand still outstretched. “It was a twin strawberry, you idiot! Do you understand what you’ve done?! That was supposed to go to Ollie. That was my love story! And you just—you just ate it like a gremlin—”

Kimi threw his hands up, laughing. “Okay, hold on! In my defense, I didn’t see a label on it that said ‘please don’t eat, contains soulmates!’”

You smacked his arm. “You absolute moron!”

He just grinned, somehow infuriatingly pleased with himself. “You’re seriously telling me you think giving Ollie a weird mutant strawberry would make him fall in love with you?”

You glared. “It worked for my parents.”

“That explains a lot.”

At that moment, Ollie walked in, cheeks slightly pink from the sim, grinning at you both. “What’s going on?”

“She tried to woo you with a strawberry.”

"KIMI!"

You’re still mad.

Kimi keeps offering you strawberries like it’s some kind of peace offering. It’s almost impressive how persistent he is—like he thinks a couple of fresh strawberries will suddenly fix everything. You’re not buying it. Not after that.

At first, you ignore him completely, staring off into the distance, pretending you don’t see him standing there with that dumb, sheepish look on his face and a basket of strawberries in his hands.

He tries again, leaning in with a strawberry, his face full of hope. "Come on, just one? It’s a really good one."

You scowl, your arms crossed tightly. "You can’t just throw fruit at trauma, Kimi. That’s not how this works."

He stands there for a moment, blinking. “What do you mean, ‘trauma’? It’s a strawberry, not a therapy session.”

“I know what it is, but that doesn’t change the fact that you ate my soulmate strawberry and ruined everything. My destiny was in that berry, Kimi!” You throw your hands up dramatically.

“Oh, come on,” he grins, unbothered, “It wasn’t that serious.”

You shoot him a look like he's lost his mind. “It was very serious! Do you have any idea what that strawberry means?”

“Not really, but I get it. You’re mad at me,” Kimi says, finally accepting that no amount of fruit-throwing is going to make you calm down.

You roll your eyes. You’ve spent enough time with him to know that no apology from Kimi would ever come in a conventional way. And yet, here he was—still trying.

“You know,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eye, “If you’re that upset, I can keep throwing strawberries until you forgive me. Might take a while, but it could be fun.”

"You're so ridiculous," you mutter, but you can't help the smirk that creeps onto your face. He has that effect on you—frustratingly charming and impossible to stay mad at for long.

But then, Kimi’s expression changes. He stops, holds out a single strawberry.

“I swear,” he says seriously, eyes locked on yours. “If I ever find another twin strawberry, I promise, I’ll give it to you first. No theft, no sneaking it from your hands. I swear.” He beams a smile at you, making it almost impossible to stay annoyed.

“Fine, I’ll forgive you," you say, reaching for the strawberry. "But next time, I’m putting alarms on my fruit from now on. If you even think about eating one, it’ll start blaring sirens.”

His smile widens. “Victory.”

Kimi grinned mischievously as he settled on the couch beside you, popcorn in hand. "Scary movie tonight?" he asked, already clicking on the first horror movie he found.

You frowned, trying to hide your growing discomfort. "You know I don’t like scary movies," you muttered, but he just shrugged.

“Perfect,” he smirked, pressing play.

You tried to focus on the movie, but every jumpscare made you flinch, and with each creepy moment, you found yourself inching closer to Kimi. It was subtle at first—your shoulders brushing, his arm casually resting on the back of the couch—but then, during a particularly terrifying scene, you completely panicked and grabbed the closest thing to you—Kimi’s arm.

You pulled back immediately, embarrassed, heart hammering in your chest. "Oh my God, sorry!" you exclaimed, trying to shift away from him.

But Kimi, that insufferable tease, was quick to pull you back in. His arm tightened around your shoulders, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Whoa, hey, where are you going?” Kimi said, feigning innocence. “It’s just a scary movie.”

You tried to squirm free. "I wasn’t—I'm not—this wasn’t supposed to happen!"

“You’re going to break the soulmate spell,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he pulled you back against him. "If you move away, the universe might get upset. The strawberry gods might get... angry."

You blinked at him in disbelief, heat creeping into your face. “Kimi, seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said with a smirk, his hand gently resting on your arm. "You know how it works, right? Soulmates share tough moments. And this," he gestured to the screen where another jump scare was just about to happen, "is clearly a tough moment."

You groaned, too mortified to even look at him. “You're ridiculous."

It was one of those nights when the team was just trying to unwind. You were sitting at a table with a few of the drivers, laughing and teasing them about their car sim skills.

Kimi, as always, was leaning back in his chair, watching the others. He wasn’t much for the car sim competitions, but you’d often tease him into playing for fun. You challenged him to a bet, offering to cook dinner for him if you won and him getting you a ridiculous souvenir from the next race if he did.

The game began, and soon enough, you were both neck and neck. Your focus was unwavering, fingers tapping quickly against the controller. You looked over at Kimi, who was giving you that same quiet, intense gaze he always had when he was determined.

“You’re gonna regret this, you know,” Kimi said smugly, grinning as you both powered through the final lap.

“Oh, you wish,” you shot back, barely holding in your laughter. You were having fun—so much fun you didn’t notice the way Kimi was watching you with an odd mixture of admiration and something more complicated.

The game ended with you victorious, and while Kimi was feigning frustration, you couldn’t help but notice the slight smile tugging at his lips when you leaned in, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

“Guess I’ll be cooking for you,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

Kimi’s lips twitched into a grin, but his eyes stayed on you a bit longer than usual. There was something in his gaze, a flicker of something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place. His usual casual demeanor faltered for a brief moment, and for the first time in ages, you felt a strange tension in the air.

Late afternoon at the paddock. After a long day of press conferences and media interviews, you and Kimi are hanging out in the garage, trying to kill time before the next round of events. Kimi, as usual, has his headphones in, tapping away at his phone, while you’re flipping through a magazine, half-watching the crew.

Without much thought, you lean in to hand Kimi a snack from the table in front of you—one of your favorite chocolate bars, still wrapped in its shiny foil.

Your fingers brush against his as you extend the snack, and in that split second, you both freeze.

His hand is warm, and the touch feels… unexpected. It’s just a brief second, but it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. You pull back quickly, muttering something about the bar being “weirdly wrapped.”

Kimi, of course, doesn’t notice your sudden nervousness. He just picks up the bar and opens it, chewing nonchalantly as if nothing happened. You catch yourself staring for a moment, wishing you could calm down. But then he shoots you a grin.

“What?” he asks, leaning forward. “Something on my face?”

You cough awkwardly. “No, no. You’re fine. Just… distracted, I guess.”

Kimi shrugs and goes back to his phone, but you can’t seem to focus on anything. That was… way too much of a moment for something as simple as handing over a snack. And then you realize—you’re blushing. You quickly look away.

The late afternoon sun hung low over the paddock as the team began to pack up after another exhausting day of testing. You were sitting by the pit wall, absentmindedly picking at a small bowl of strawberries, enjoying the rare moment of peace.

Kimi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you pop another strawberry into your mouth. “You know, I think you’re stuck with me forever,” he teased, a glint in his eye. “Soulmate rules and all that.”

You blinked at him, eyebrows raised. "Really? Do you actually believe in that nonsense? It's just a stupid fruit, Kimi. There’s no such thing as soulmate strawberries."

Kimi’s grin widened, and he gave a small shrug, clearly not bothered by your skepticism. "Hey, I didn’t make the rules. But you know, you were the one who was all into it when it happened. Acting all hopeful and excited—what happened to that?"

You scoffed, trying to look annoyed but not quite managing to hide the small flutter in your chest. “What happened? You eating it happened, Kimi!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Ah, so now you’re blaming me?”

You didn’t reply immediately, trying to ignore the slight warmth spreading through your chest. “Maybe,” you muttered, quickly turning away to hide the flustered look on your face.

But Kimi couldn’t help but grin wider, his teasing tone softening just slightly. “Well, guess you’re stuck with me now, whether you like it or not.”

On the inside, you weren’t sure if you minded so much anymore.

It’s one of those rare days when there’s nothing to do. The team is off-duty, and everyone’s scattered around doing their own thing. You and Kimi, however, decide to cook dinner together. You’ve both joked about your terrible cooking skills before, but for some reason, you both think it’ll be fun to try.

You’re in the kitchen, looking at the recipe book while Kimi is rummaging through the pantry. There’s something so intimate about it, but neither of you mentions it. You're just two best friends trying to cook without burning down the kitchen.

“You know, I’m not sure this is going to end well,” Kimi says, eyeing the recipe with suspicion.

“Oh, come on,” you reply, grinning. “We’re fine! Just follow the recipe. We’re basically culinary geniuses.”

Kimi raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re calling yourself a genius and you can’t even cook pasta without burning it.”

“Hey, it’s one time,” you defend yourself. “And you burnt toast yesterday.”

Kimi laughs, and as he reaches across the counter for a spice jar, his hand brushes against yours. It’s accidental, but this time, neither of you pull away. You both freeze, eyes meeting for a brief second. The touch is so casual, but there’s this weird tension building up between you two.

“Maybe we should just... order pizza,” Kimi suggests, his voice suddenly softer.

You shake your head, trying to push through the awkwardness. “No way. We can totally do this. It’s not that hard.”

But after a few more clumsy moments, you both end up laughing so hard at the mess you've made that it breaks the tension. The moment passes, but as you look at Kimi, there’s a new realization—he’s not just your best friend anymore. He’s something else.

The rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes in seconds as you sprinted across the track, your shoes slipping on the wet ground. The race was over, and the sky had decided to join in with a downpour just as the team was wrapping up. You weren’t exactly prepared for a sudden thunderstorm, but you weren’t complaining. There was something exhilarating about the chaos of it all, the way the cold rain clung to your skin, the way it made the world feel like it was just you and Kimi running to escape it.

You were both laughing, winded and drenched, as you ducked under the cover of the garage. The rain continued to pour down in sheets, but at least you were sheltered now—well, sort of. You were both dripping wet, the water splashing off your clothes as you tried to catch your breath.

Kimi glanced at you, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow down. The raindrops stuck to your eyelashes like tiny crystals, and your cheeks were flushed, either from the sprint or the cold, or maybe from something else entirely. You didn’t know what it was, but something about the way the water glistened on your skin, how you looked in this moment, caught his attention in a way that felt... different.

“You look like a soaked strawberry,” Kimi said, his voice low, teasing, but there was something in his tone that made your heart skip a beat.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide the butterflies forming in your stomach. “Flattering,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

But he wasn’t laughing anymore. He was looking at you, really looking at you, his usual cocky grin replaced with something softer, something more vulnerable. His eyes flicked from your rain-soaked face down to your lips before settling back on your eyes.

Without another word, Kimi reached out, his fingers brushing against your wet hair, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. His hand lingered, just for a second, but it felt like a lifetime. The air between you suddenly felt thick, charged, like there was something unspoken hanging between the two of you. The soft touch of his fingers on your skin made your breath catch, and you could feel your heart race faster than before.

“I think I like you,” he blurted, his voice rougher than usual, like the words had been stuck in his throat and finally broke free in the midst of all this chaos.

You blinked, feeling your pulse spike at his words. You stared at him, trying to process what had just happened.

“Like... friend-like or soulmate-fruit-like?” you asked, trying to keep it light, keep it playful, but a little part of you was holding your breath, waiting for his answer.

Kimi froze for a moment, looking like he was about to say something, but then—like always—he let out a small, nervous laugh, his usual smirk creeping back onto his face.

“Both. Or neither. Who knows?” he said, his voice trailing off like he was trying to play it cool again.

The checkered flag waves.

Kimi’s name flashes across the screen in bold white letters: P1.

The paddock erupts. Mechanics are shouting, champagne is already being passed around, and you know the cameras are hunting for the perfect shot of him—Mercedes' golden boy. But your feet are already moving.

You push through the crowd, barely registering the pats on your shoulder, the beaming congratulations from people in passing. You don’t stop until you're right in front of him.

His race suit is still zipped up, hair damp from sweat, cheeks flushed from the heat and the rush of victory. His eyes find yours instantly—like he was looking for you too.

“Kimi,” you breathe out, not even meaning to say anything.

He doesn't say anything either. He just opens his arms, and that’s all it takes.

You step into him without hesitation.

The hug is immediate, solid. His arms wrap tight around your waist, yours loop around his neck. It should be quick—a brief moment in the chaos of celebration. But neither of you move.

The sound fades. The world softens.

You feel his chest rising and falling, the heat of his skin beneath the suit, the tension melting from his shoulders. He’s holding you like he’s been waiting for this—for you.

And you don’t want to let go.

Eventually, too aware of the people around you, you pull back. Just enough to breathe.

Your arms slide from his neck, fingers brushing his collarbone before you drop them. He lets go too, but a beat too late. Like his arms didn’t get the message.

And then you're just standing there. Close. Too close.

You glance away, trying to calm the heat in your face. “You smell like burnt rubber and sweat,” you mumble, voice half-laughing.

Kimi huffs a breath, and you swear it sounds nervous. “It’s my new cologne.”

You both laugh—awkward and soft—and then it’s quiet again.

But inside?

Your heart is crashing against your ribs like it's racing him on track. And judging by the way his eyes keep flicking to your mouth, the way he keeps shifting on his feet like he doesn’t know whether to speak or stay quiet—

He feels it too.

That electric something neither of you is quite ready to name.

You're curled up on the edge of your hotel bed with the lights off and the post-race glow lingering like a soft ache. The noise of the crowd is long gone, replaced by silence. But inside your head? It's loud.

You keep replaying it—the way Kimi tore off his helmet, hair messy and eyes wild with adrenaline. He should’ve run to his team, should’ve celebrated with the people who made that win possible. But he didn’t.

He came to you.

Straight to you.

Like instinct.

And you? You didn’t think. You just hugged him. Threw your arms around him like you needed to feel him, to ground yourself, to confirm he was really there, really him. It was impulsive, too long, too close, and when he didn’t pull away, neither did you.

And when you finally did, the awkwardness hit. You both laughed it off—kind of. Said something stupid. Shrugged it away like it meant nothing.

But it did. You felt it. In the silence after. In the thud of your heart now.

You press your palms to your face and breathe deep, like that’ll slow everything racing inside you.

Because you finally get it.

You know why your stomach flips when he smiles, why your breath catches when he says your name like it’s a secret. You know why your chest gets tight every time you see him.

You groan into your hands, falling back onto the hotel pillows, like the ceiling might offer answers. Or clarity. Or maybe just a break from the whirlwind that is your brain right now.

But it doesn't.

Because now that the realization’s there—loud and pulsing—you can’t stop the flood that follows.

The memories come in waves. One after another. Like your brain's stitching together the truth you’ve been avoiding for weeks.

It all starts to add up now. Every look. Every laugh. Every stolen second.

You like him.

And not in a friendly way.

God. You really like him.

It had been weeks since you realized what you were feeling for Kimi, and ever since that moment, everything had felt different. Every touch, every shared glance, and every laugh you’d shared with him now carried more weight than it ever did before.

You had tried to deny it at first. Tried to brush off the fluttering in your chest when he smiled at you, or the way your heart skipped whenever he’d joke around. But the more you tried to ignore it, the stronger those feelings became.

So you did the only thing that made sense to you: you started distancing yourself from him.

It wasn’t easy. Kimi wasn’t the type to miss details, and he noticed immediately. He’d text you more often, always asking if you were okay, or if something had happened. The messages always came with the same playful tone, as if nothing was wrong, but you could sense the concern behind them.

You’d make excuses.

“I’m just tired. I’ll catch up with you later.” “I’ve got some things to do.”

Each time, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You hated the way you were pulling away, but you were terrified of what would happen if you didn’t. If you let yourself feel this way, you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop it.

And that’s what scared you the most.

You were in the break room, staring out the window. The noise of the team in the distance faded as you lost yourself in thought. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. Kimi.

The messages were simple at first.

"You’re being quiet today." "Is everything okay?"

You didn’t respond right away, trying to focus on something—anything—to distract yourself from the inevitable. It was only when you heard the door creak open that you turned to find Kimi standing there, his usual mischievous grin absent. His eyes searched your face with that quiet concern you couldn’t ignore.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Kimi said casually, though there was an edge to his words.

You quickly looked away, your heart hammering in your chest. You’d known this moment would come, but you weren’t prepared for it. “I’m not avoiding you,” you said, though the lie slipped out too easily.

Kimi raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because it sure feels like it.”

You swallowed hard, guilt twisting inside you. “I just... I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind for weeks now,” he replied, his voice softening. “What’s going on?”

You didn’t know what to say. The words stuck in your throat. It was all so much. So much easier to stay distant and pretend it wasn’t happening, pretend that your feelings didn’t exist.

“I just need some space, Kimi,” you said quickly, standing up and trying to put some distance between you both. “I need time to think.”

But Kimi didn’t budge. He stayed where he was, his eyes fixed on you. “You can’t push me away, not like this.”

You flinched at his words, but you refused to meet his eyes. “I’m not pushing you away. I’m just... figuring things out.”

“Figuring what out?” Kimi’s voice dropped an octave, a rare seriousness creeping into his tone. “What’s there to figure out?”

You finally met his gaze, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t know what’s happening, Kimi. I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Kimi took a step toward you, his expression softening. “Whatever it is, I’m here. But you don’t have to carry it alone. If something’s bothering you, you don’t have to shut me out.”

Your breath hitched, and you quickly turned away, hating how much it hurt to hear him say that.

“I just need time,” you said again, though it sounded weak, even to you.

No, You weren’t falling for Kimi.

Or at least, that’s what you kept trying to convince yourself.

Maybe it was just a confusion. You’d been around him too much. Close proximity, long nights, inside jokes. It messes with your head. Anyone would start overthinking things in that situation. Right?

You told yourself that as you sat beside Ollie in the Haas hospitality, laughing a little too loud at one of his stories. It was easy with Ollie—no butterflies, no tension, just effortless.

You sipped your drink and leaned a little closer, smiling at Ollie like you meant it.

You didn’t.

But you needed to.

Because every time Kimi looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, every time his voice dropped to that softer pitch meant only for you, every time your hands brushed and you felt it in your chest—you panicked.

It couldn’t be real. Not that kind of feeling. Not with him.

So you started avoiding him, not just in messages but also in real life. Skipping coffee runs. Taking different routes to the paddock. Sitting beside Ollie instead of Kimi.

And Ollie noticed—of course he did—but he didn’t say anything. He was good like that.

But Kimi noticed too. And he said even less.

Which hurt more than you expected.

You caught him watching you once from across the motorhome, his eyes unreadable. He didn’t look away when you met his gaze. Just held it, like he was trying to figure out what the hell had changed.

You looked away first.

You were with Ollie now. Laughing, joking, making it look like everything was fine. Like you were fine.

But you weren’t.

Because no matter how many conversations you forced, how many times you told yourself you were just confused, no matter how close Ollie sat beside you—your eyes always drifted to the Mercedes garage.

And you knew.

You weren’t confused.

You were in love with Kimi Antonelli.

It’s late. The race weekend has come to an end, and the venue is quieter than it’s been in days. Most of the team is tucked away in their rooms. You, however, found yourself wandering aimlessly, trying to shake off the weight of your thoughts.

The cool night air is soothing, and the city lights in the distance twinkle like stars. You’re not sure why you’re still out here, but something about the solitude feels... necessary. You’re lost in the hum of the night when suddenly, you hear the faint sound of footsteps behind you.

Before you can turn around, Kimi’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Can we talk?”

You stop in your tracks, a shiver running down your spine at the unexpected interruption. There’s something in his tone that makes you hesitate. You weren’t planning on this, but you don’t get a choice. He’s not going to drop it.

“Now?” you ask, forcing a lightness to your voice you don’t feel.

He nods. “Yeah.”

You let out a quiet sigh and turn around to face him, bracing yourself for whatever’s coming next. Kimi doesn’t usually push you for serious conversations. So when he does, you know it’s something important.

“You’ve been really distant lately,” Kimi suddenly says, breaking the silence. “I mean, I know you’ve been busy with everything and you said you need time, but it’s like... you’re trying not to talk to me.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words. The thing is, he’s not wrong. You have been avoiding him a little, mostly because of your confusing feelings. But you don’t know how to explain that.

“I just...” you start, unsure of how to articulate what’s been on your mind. “It’s just... sometimes it feels like we’re not the same, you know? Things have changed, and I don’t know why.”

Kimi looks at you carefully, his gaze softening. “You’ve been acting strange ever since that whole ‘twin strawberry’ thing, haven’t you?”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it was important to you, right? You wanted to give it to Ollie or whatever. But I ate it. And then I noticed that you’ve been kind of... off since then. Like you were disappointed in me.”

You freeze. Is that what he thinks?

“I wasn’t disappointed in you,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “It’s just... I thought it meant something, and then it didn’t. But... I guess that’s silly.”

Kimi sits next to you on the hood of the car, his voice low. “I don’t think it’s silly.”

You turn to look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He looks at you seriously. “It mattered to you. That means it matters to me, too.”

It’s the first time he’s said anything like that. It’s not the playful teasing you’re used to. It’s real.

Your heart races. This is the moment when you finally realize that maybe... you’ve both been feeling something more for each other.

But you don’t say anything yet. You just sit there, both quietly looking at the stars, not needing to say anything else.

It had been a long day at the race, and everyone was unwinding in the team lounge. You were talking to Ollie, laughing at some stupid joke he’d made, the conversation flowing easily as you leaned in slightly, maybe a little too close for Kimi’s liking. But you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice the way Kimi was watching you—how his eyes darkened every time Ollie smiled at you, how the knot in his stomach tightened every time you laughed too loud.

Kimi’s usually cool exterior was starting to crack. Every small gesture between you and Ollie, every lingering look, seemed to intensify the feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure when it started, but the jealousy had been simmering, growing in the pit of his stomach with every passing minute.

And then, there it was. You were standing close to Ollie, both of you too involved in the conversation, your arm brushing against his. Kimi couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care if it was nothing, if you were just friends. The way you two seemed so at ease with each other… it just hurt.

You had been talking to him more than usual, laughing and enjoying the conversation like you used to with Kimi—before all the feelings, before all the unspoken tension.

Without saying a word, Kimi stood up, grabbed his jacket, and walked out of the lounge, his steps heavy and deliberate. He didn’t want to see you with him anymore. He couldn’t.

You noticed his absence only when the weight of the room shifted. You glanced up and saw Kimi disappearing into the hallway, his back turned to you. Panic surged through you as you rushed after him.

“Kimi!” you called, your voice cutting through the air as you ran to catch up. You found him standing in the rain just outside the building, drenched but not caring. He was staring out into the night, his body rigid.

“Kimi, what’s going on? Why are you leaving?”

He didn’t respond, his silence only amplifying the growing anxiety in your chest. You stepped closer, your feet squelching in the puddles. “Kimi, talk to me.”

“Oh, now, you finally want to talk to me," He finally turned, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt, and you could see how his fists were clenched at his sides.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he spat, his voice dripping with frustration. “I know what’s going on. You think I’m blind, huh? I saw how you were with him. You two talking, laughing, too close, like… like it was something else.” His eyes narrowed, his face reddening from the rain and his own emotions. “I know you like him. You’ve been liking him for a while, and I—” He stopped, his breath catching as his fists clenched tighter. “But you don’t get to shove that in my face. Not in front of me.”

You blinked, completely stunned by his words. “Kimi, what are you talking about? It’s nothing like that!”

“Oh, really?” he shot back, voice tight and bitter. “Then what was that? Do I have to watch you getting cozy with Ollie every time I turn around? Do I have to watch you smile at him like that, while I just stand here like an idiot?” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I’ve had enough.”

You stepped forward, your heart racing. “Kimi, I—”

“No!” he snapped, holding up his hand. “I get it now. You’re into him. Fine. You like him. Just don’t—don’t make me watch it. I don’t deserve that.” His shoulders sagged for a second, the anger slowly being replaced by something else. Vulnerability. Hurt.

You stood there, breathing heavily, heart hammering. Something clicked. The jealousy, the tension, the way he’d been acting all night.

"Why are you acting like this, Kimi?" you questioned.

"What do you think?!" he snapped.

“I’m in love with you, goddamnit!”

Kimi’s voice cut through the storm like thunder—raw, sharp, and intense.

He raked a hand through his wet hair, pacing a step away before turning back, eyes burning despite the rain pouring down his face. “Do you even get it?” he shouted, arms thrown out like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

“Do you know what it’s like watching you smile at someone else like that? Letting him get close like how you are to me? Like I’m not right here—like I haven’t been here, this whole damn time!” Kimi continued.

Your breath hitched. “Kimi—”

“I can’t—” He shook his head, chest heaving. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t care. I can’t keep standing there like it doesn’t fucking destroy me.”

He stepped closer now, eyes burning into yours with something real.

“Look, Ollie’s my best friend,” he said, voice tight. “I’ve never been jealous of him. Not for the wins, the praise, the attention—none of it. I’ve always been proud of him.”

His voice cracked just slightly, barely audible under the sound of the rain, but it shattered something in you.

“But the only time I ever hated him—ever—was when you were with him. Laughing. Touching his arm. Knowing how much you like him. That didn’t just make me jealous,” he breathes, voice cracking, “it fucking destroys me.”

You shook your head, stepping closer to him, despite the rain that was soaking you both. “I’m not in love with Ollie anymore, Kimi.” You paused, searching for the words. “I— I was. But that was a long time ago. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Kimi blinked, clearly taken aback by your words. “What?” He stared at you, disbelief in his eyes. “What do you mean? You’ve been—”

“I don’t know when it happened,” you interrupted, voice soft. “But I’ve been in love with you, Kimi. I’ve been feeling it for a while, and I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t even know if you felt the same way.”

You reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers trembling slightly. “I don’t want anyone else. It’s always been you, Kimi. It always will be.”

Kimi stood there, staring at you, his mind racing. For a moment, the rain kept falling, the world around you fading. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he couldn’t deny it. There was something inside of him that knew this moment had been coming. The jealousy, the feelings, everything had been building up for so long.

“Are you… sure?” he asked softly, voice shaking slightly as he took a step toward you.

You nodded. “I’m sure, Kimi.”

He didn’t say anything else. He just pulled you in, crashing his lips into yours, his arms wrapping around you tightly. The rain continued to pour down, soaking you both, but neither of you cared. It felt like everything had fallen into place.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, breathless.

“Guess the twin strawberry was real after all,” he says, chuckling.

"It turns out that fate had a better taste than me."

[yourneighborlyweirdo]

The Easiest Way to Manifest/The Ultimate Beginner’s Guide to Manifesting! (My Personal Method)

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What if I told you there was a way to instantly manifest whatever you’ve ever wanted?

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I’m talking like, you think it and it appears minutes (or even seconds with practice) right before your eyes?

If you’re interested, this is how.

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Introduction:

So, let’s get into it. Hey, if you don’t know me, I’m kinda new here on Tumblr—new like I just started posting today type shit. (I literally set up my account hours ago.) I’ve been scrolling on this app for atleast a month now and I’ve been seeing some posts that are pretty helpful, so I just want to give my personal advice to any of those who are struggling. (Because that used to be me.) I wanna start this off with a warning…

Warning: If this doesn’t resonate with you, take what you like and leave the rest. If my advice doesn’t help you out it doesn’t have to! And don’t force yourself to use my technique if it feels weird to do or something you aren’t comfortable with. But if my method doesn’t work for you, (which I highly doubt because this can work with anyone and everyone) then maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. And also, I am not a professional. I am merely a vessel trying to pass my knowledge on to others. But, I do consider myself a Master at Manifesting, only because I’ve Mastered it. And my only goal is to help you Master it too. If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to drop a comment or a DM. Thanks!

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The Law:

In this technique, I will be using the Law of Assumption. If you’re not sure what this is, let me explain…

The Law of Assumption is a universal Law for manifestation. As the name suggests, it means assuming. Everything you assume will become your reality. Practicing the Law of Assumption means realizing that the 4D (Your mental reality, your imagination) is the only thing that matters, not your 3D (Your physical reality, the thing you’re seeing right in front of your 2 eyes.)

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(Side Note: I use “LOA” to abbreviate/shorten “Law of Assumption.” Both of these terms will be highlighted in pink for your understanding. Also, the 4D is your imagination and the 3D is the physical world around you. I suggest you remember these terms.)

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An Example Scenario of Using The Law:

Example: Let’s say, I really want a soda. But I’m laying down in my bed, so obviously, I can’t see a soda in front of me. But, using the LOA, I can get my soda. Here’s how…

So, I’m sitting here in my bed really wishing I had a soda in my hands. To manifest a soda, I will use the LOA. To use the LOA, I will either think or speak out loud, whatever you want to do, to manifest. I will start thinking. “Damn. I really want a soda right now. I know I’ll get my soda. I want it so I can get it. I will have my soda, one way or another.” And a couple minutes later, I got a text from my parent saying they brought me a soda from the gas station. (Yes this example is a true story on how I started manifesting using the LOA for the first time.)

If you’re not picking up what I’m putting down, let me break it down. Here’s what just happened in that example:

1. I really wanted something (in this case the “something” was a soda)

2. I started to think about how I wanted it, then I assumed that I would get it, one way or another.

3. Boom! I got my desire. (Which was the soda in this case.)

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Breaking It Down:

See how easy that was? Within minutes I got my desire in only 3 easy steps. If you’re still confused, let me explain…

What happened there was I identified what I wanted (AKA: My desire being something I wanted.) Then, I used the LOA to manifest my desire to becoming my reality. Then naturally, the 3D followed what I thought in my 4D.

Literally the only thing I did was think what I wanted to happen and it happened in front of my eyes.

You: “But why? But how? How is that even possible—”

What happened was I thought something in my imagination (my 4D) and the physical world (the 3D) conformed because the 4D will always be in charge of the 3D.

Think of the 3D as a chief in a restaurant. The 4D is the waiter, and you are a customer in that restaurant. Let’s say you wanted to manifest a soda, so you’d say, “Waiter! I would like one soda please.” And the waiter, (The 4D) writes down in his notepad that you ordered a soda. The waiter would then go to the back and go tell the chief (The 3D) what you ordered, and then the chief would make it, and then you would get it.

That’s what the 3D and 4D are. You’d “tell the waiter what you want to order” (AKA: Think in your brain using your imagination/4D what you want to manifest) Then the “chief would cook up what you ordered and you’d get your order.” (AKA: The 3D will make what you manifested happen in your physical world and your manifestation would appear in front of your eyes.)

Hopefully now you understand what the LOA is, how to use it, and what happens when you do use it.

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What Happens When I Manifest Something and The 3D doesn’t conform?

Let me say this now: That is impossible. It is impossible for your 3D to not conform to the 4D. The 3D only will NOT conform when you ASSUME it won’t.

Your assumptions will become your reality. To change your assumptions, use your thoughts and imagination, (AKA: the 4D) and your 4D will become your 3D.

Assumptions are thoughts. Thoughts are your reality.

Read those 2 sentences again until they are memorized.

Don’t you see? Do you understand how easy it is?

So let’s say, you manifested something, imagined it (using the 4D) and it didn’t appear right infront of your eyes. Don’t panic. It’s okay. Take a breather, and tell yourself that you will get your desire. You imagined it in the 4D, and after reading this post, you’re sure that the 3D will conform because it WILL. Just persist in the fact that you WILL get your desire.

(Do you get what I’m saying here? Assume, assume, assume. Assume you will get your desire. Assume it will come quickly. Assume that it’s easy because it is! When in doubt, assume, assume, assume.)

If you don’t get your desire, it’s because you’re assuming (AKA: Thinking) that it won’t. Assume that you can and will manifest, and it will.

The 3D DOES NOT MATTER. You know why? Because, I’ll repeat,

Assumptions are thoughts. Thoughts are your reality.

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A Step By Step Tutorial:

1. Identify what you want to manifest.

2. Assume it will happen by thinking.

3. You get your desire.

You can assume things many ways. Here are my favorite ways in the form of sentences:

1. Assuming it will happen in the future. (Example: Using sentences containing “I Will.” Sentences in the future tense. “I know I will get desire one way or another.”)

2. Assuming it will happen in the present. (Example: You use sentences containing “I Am.”Sentences in the present tense. “I have my desire.”)

3. Assuming it already happened in the past. (Example: You use sentences containing “I Had.” Sentences in the past tense. This is also referred to as “Living in the End.” “I already have my desire.”)

Remember that all of these ways are ways to manifest. There is no better one than the other—use what works best for you! (I personally use all 3 ways all the time. They all work the same way and for me, not one is better then the other. They’re all great and they all work. Use what works best for you!!! Don’t let anyone tell you one works better then the other because that’s simply not true. I’ve manifested using all three and so can you!)

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Summary And Last Thoughts:

In order to manifest, you only need to figure out what you want to manifest, then think about it as an assumption, (one of the 3 ways I listed above, using a Past, Present, or Future sentence) and then just wait knowing you will get your desire.

Notice how in this post I never covered the “how” or the “when.” (The only “how” I covered was how manifestation works with the 4D and 3D, nothing beyond that.) Because you don’t need to focus on those things! Focus on manifesting, NOT how it happens or when. The only time you should be focusing on the when is when you are manifesting your desire to come quicker.

Also notice how in this post, it was a continuous cycle of…

Thoughts=Assumptions

Thoughts+Assumptions=Your Desired Reality

Anyone can manifest. And this isn’t the only way to manifest, this is one method of many. It’s easy when you assume it’s easy!

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I hope this post helped atleast someone. Have a good evening, morning, or afternoon. If you have a question or concern, feel free to drop a comment or send a DM.

The ultimate Law of Assumption song (You deserve your manifestation and that’s why you should get it!)

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Sincerely,

Your Neighborly Werido

[pucksandpower]

Like … for Uber?

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: maybe you should have been a bit more specific when you told your parents that your boyfriend drives for a living

The aroma of roast chicken and freshly baked rolls wafts through the air as you nervously adjust the centerpiece on the dining room table. Your parents and younger brother are due home any minute, and you’ve spent the afternoon preparing for this pivotal family dinner. Tonight, they’ll finally meet your boyfriend.

The doorbell chimes, sending a jolt through your body. You hurry to the entrance, smoothing down your dress before opening the door. Max stands there, a bouquet of flowers in hand and an easy smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “These are for your mother.”

“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that,” you reply, taking the flowers. “Come on in. My family should be here soon.”

As you lead Max into the living room, you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. You haven’t exactly been forthcoming about Max’s career, telling your family only that he’s “a driver.” It wasn’t a lie, per se, but you knew they assumed he worked for a ride-sharing service or delivery company.

“Nice place,” Max comments, looking around. “Very ... homey.”

You laugh. “Is that a polite way of saying it’s nothing like your fancy Monaco apartment?”

“No, I mean it,” he insists, pulling you close. “It feels lived-in. Comfortable.”

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway interrupts your moment. “That’ll be them,” you say, your stomach doing somersaults. “Ready?”

Max squeezes your hand. “Always.”

Your parents burst through the door, arms laden with grocery bags. Your mother’s face lights up when she spots Max.

“Oh, you must be the boyfriend!” She exclaims, setting down her bags to give him a hug. “You’re even more handsome than Y/N said.”

Your father steps forward, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, son. Heard a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Max replies with a chuckle.

As introductions are made, you can’t help but notice your parents exchanging curious glances. You know they’re dying to ask about Max’s job, but they’re too polite to broach the subject right away.

“Dinner smells amazing,” your father says, sniffing the air appreciatively. “Shall we sit down?”

Everyone gathers around the table, and you begin to serve the food. The conversation flows easily at first, with your parents asking Max about his family and where he grew up. But as the main course is cleared away, you can sense the questions they’re itching to ask.

Your mother finally breaks. “So, Max, how long have you been driving?”

Max looks momentarily confused. “Uh, professionally? Since I was 17, I guess.”

Your father’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seventeen? Isn’t that a bit young to start with Uber?”

“Uber?” Max repeats, bewildered. “I don’t-”

You quickly interject, “Dad, Max doesn’t work for Uber.”

“Oh, my mistake,” your father says, looking embarrassed. “Lyft, then?”

Max turns to you, a mix of amusement and confusion on his face. “Schatje, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Before you can explain, your mother chimes in. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, dear. Driving for those apps is honest work. We’re just curious about what it’s like.”

Max opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. “Mom, Dad, I think I need to clarify something. When I said Max was a driver, I didn’t mean-”

The sound of the front door slamming interrupts you. Your younger brother, Tommy, comes barreling into the dining room, out of breath and wide-eyed.

“Sorry I’m late, I was at practice and-” He stops short, his jaw dropping as he spots Max. “Holy shit! You’re Max Verstappen!”

The room falls silent. Your parents look from Tommy to Max, then back to Tommy, confusion etched on their faces.

“Language, Tommy,” your mother scolds automatically, before adding, “Wait, what did you say?”

Tommy is practically vibrating with excitement. “That’s Max Verstappen! He’s not just any driver, he’s a Formula 1 World Champion!”

Your father turns to Max, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “Is this true?”

Max nods, looking slightly sheepish. “Yes, sir. I’m a Formula 1 driver for Red Bull Racing.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Your mother is the first to recover, letting out a nervous laugh. “Oh my, and here we were asking you about Uber! We must look so foolish.”

“Not at all,” Max assures her, his smile warm and genuine. “It’s actually quite refreshing. Most people I meet already know everything about me.”

Your father leans forward, his interest piqued. “So, Formula 1 ... that’s the racing with the really fast cars, right?”

Max nods, launching into an explanation of the sport. As he talks, you can see your parents becoming more and more fascinated. Tommy, meanwhile, is peppering Max with questions about his latest races and rival drivers.

“I can’t believe my sister is dating Max Verstappen,” Tommy says for the third time, shaking his head in disbelief.

You feel a blush creeping up your neck. “Tommy, please ...”

Max reaches under the table to squeeze your hand. “It’s alright, liefje. I’m just glad they know now. No more secrets, yeah?”

Your mother stands up suddenly. “Oh, goodness! I completely forgot about dessert. I’ll just go fetch it.”

As she hurries to the kitchen, your father clears his throat. “So, Max, I have to ask ... is it dangerous? All that racing, I mean.”

Max considers the question carefully. “There are, of course, risks. But the cars are incredibly safe these days, and we take every precaution possible.”

Your mother returns with a homemade apple pie, setting it down in the center of the table. “I hope you like pie, Max. It’s an old family recipe.”

“It looks delicious,” Max says sincerely. “Thank you for going to all this trouble.”

As your mother serves the pie, the conversation shifts to more casual topics. You find yourself relaxing, relieved that the truth is finally out and that your family seems to be taking it well.

“So, how did you two meet?” Your father asks, between bites of pie.

You and Max exchange a glance, both smiling at the memory. “It was at a charity event in London,” you begin.

Max jumps in, “She spilled her drink all over my shoes.”

“Max!” You exclaim, swatting his arm playfully. “I did not spill it, you bumped into me!”

He laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Maybe we bumped into each other. Either way, I’m glad it happened.”

Your mother sighs contentedly. “That’s so romantic. And now look at you two, so happy together.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Gross, Mom. Can we talk about racing again?”

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of laughter and conversation. As the night winds down, you find yourself in the kitchen with your mother, washing dishes while Max chats with your father and Tommy in the living room.

“He’s a lovely boy,” your mother says softly, handing you a plate to dry. “I can see why you like him so much.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry I wasn’t more upfront about his job. I just ... I wanted you to get to know him as a person first, you know?”

Your mother nods understandingly. “I get it, sweetheart. It must be hard, dating someone so famous. But from what I’ve seen tonight, he seems very down-to-earth.”

“He is,” you agree, glancing towards the living room where you can hear Max’s laughter mingling with your father’s. “He’s just Max to me.”

As you finish up in the kitchen, Max appears in the doorway. “Need any help?”

Your mother shoos him away. “Absolutely not, you’re our guest. Go relax.”

Max insists on helping anyway, drying the last few dishes as you and your mother put them away. The domesticity of the moment strikes you, and you find yourself imagining a future where scenes like this are commonplace.

Later, as you walk Max to his car, the cool night air nips at your skin. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“That went well, I think,” he says, a hint of relief in his voice.

You nod, leaning into him. “Better than I expected. Sorry about the Uber mix-up.”

Max laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Don’t be. It was kind of fun, actually. Your family is great, by the way.”

“They liked you too,” you assure him. “Even before they knew you were famous.”

He stops at his car, turning to face you. His eyes are soft in the moonlight as he cups your face in his hands. “That’s all that matters to me. That they like me for who I am, not what I do.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. “I love you, Max Verstappen, Uber driver extraordinaire.”

He grins against your lips. “And I love you, Y/N Y/L/N, girl who definitely did not spill her drink on my shoes.”

[loomiseater]

Some Fun

warnings: smut ofc!, dub con, intercourse, and cum eating.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Billy Loomis x fem!reader

Request page

Masterlist

Written: July 17th, 2024- August 4th, 2024

Published: August 4th, 2024

Summary: Billy wants to have some fun with you.

wc: 1,599

request: ok so it's the end of the movie and billy decided to fuck reader instead of killing reader.

“Oh, don’t think we’ve forgot about you, Y/n” Billy teasingly said as he pointed the knife at me. “Please- I didn’t do anything! Please Billy! I’m begging you, don’t kill me!” I pleaded to him on my knees. It was like he was secretly getting off to it.

Him and Stu were both a bunch of sick fucks. 

“Tell me…why should I not kill you?” He asked me. I don’t know? Maybe because I want to see my future?! I didn’t answer him but instead I looked around the kitchen and the doorways to see if Stu was around. He was no where in sight..so I ran for it.

I hurried up the stairs but Billy was hot on my trail. As he was running up the stairs after me I grabbed the glass vase and threw it at him to slow him down. And it did slow him down, I ran into Stu’s parents room and locked the door. As soon as I ran into the room I saw Sidney’s body. 

She was dead. My best friend was dead. Her throat had been slit along with stab wounds in her stomach, she didn’t deserve to go out like that. I fell down to the ground to hug her one last time. 

As I gave her a kiss to the forehead, I was met with Stu rushing out of the closet grabbing me from behind. He was laughing as I was kicking and screaming. “Let me go!” I shouted. “Now why would I do that?” He questioned with his head tilted. 

Before I answered him I broke down in tears. “I didn’t do anything to you two! Please! Just let me live, I won’t call the cops! I’ll keep it a secret!” I pleaded. “We both know that’s not true, sweetheart” Stu said as he gripped my jaw. “Ounch!” 

He pulled me out of his parents room and dragged me into his bedroom where Billy was waiting. He was sat on Stu’s bed smoking a cigarette but soon blew it out when I was thrown on the bed next to him. As I sat up, Billy traced my cheek with his blood covered hand and I was shaking in fear.

“You can leave now” Billy said to Stu, not even acknowledging him. It was now Just Billy and I in the room. The silence was so loud and so scary. Was he about to murder me next?

“You’re pretty, you know that?” It sounded as if it was a question but I didn’t answer. “I’ve always wanted you Y/n. Since the first time we met in 8th grade, but you never gave me a chance” he started off as he pushed some of my hair back. “But now..I’m gonna take that chance” Billy said before he grabbed the back of my head and kissed me.

I hesitated at first but eventually gave in. I eventually pulled away from the kiss, now feeling guilty. I’m kissing the man who murdered my friends. 

I tried to get up off the bed but Billy yanked me but down as I shrieked. “The hell do you think you’re going?” He asked with a glare. “This isn’t right Billy! You and Stu MURDERED our friends- I’m not doing anything with you” I explained before crossing my arms.

“The hell you are” He responded before grabbing my and pushing me roughly on the bed. “What I say goes” he sternly said as he pointed to himself. “You’re not the boss of me!” I snapped back.

He pushed my chest down with one hand so he could show his dominance. 

“Be quiet!” He lowly but sternly said as he was now face to face with me. 

Billy started pulling my skirt down along with my blood stained top. My face began to feel hot and tears started falling. The quiet room was now filled with my quiet sobs and Billy’s shushes.

“Hey, look at me. Don’t cry” He softly said as he gave me another kiss. He soon leaned down and started placing kisses on the exposed parts of my chest. As much as I don’t wanna admit it, his kisses were turning me on, my panties were beginning to feel soaked.

Billy unhooked my bra and tossed it to the floor. He grabbed my right boob and kissed it before he sucked my nipple. I tried to hold back but a moan slipped out. “Don’t hold back, baby” he replied as I closed my eyes shut.

As he was sucking my boobs, his hands roamed free on my body before they stopped at my entrance. His thumb began rubbing small circles over my clothed clit. “Billy- please!” I whined as I gripped his wrist. He let out a dark chuckle before he answered to my whines.

“Please what? Go faster?” He said with a sinister grin. He picked up the pace and my legs began to shake. “I knew you’d like this. Dirty whore” he stated before I squirted. It was all on my panties and on the palm of his hand.

“Beautiful” he whispered as he went in to kiss my inner thighs. He pulled my panties off and in my head I kept telling myself that I don’t want it but my body was craving it. 

Him, his touch, his dick…

Billy unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down along with his underwear. He pulled his dick out and I was amazed at the size. My eyes widened. He was at least 8 inches, the tip was red, the shaft was veiny, and he was leaking pre cum.

“Ya know? I was gonna stretch you out but im tired of waiting. And you haven’t been all that nice to me today” he arrogantly said, almost as if I was in the wrong. “Maybe because you murdered MY friends! Are you insane?” I shouted. I was furious at his statement. Does he not hear himself?!

He grabbed my throat tightly as he pushed himself inside. The stretch was intense yet pleasureful. He bottomed out in me as he leaned his back groaning. “Billy!” I moaned. 

He pulled back out and shoved himself back in beginning to thrust. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this exact moment” he expressed. Billy removed his hand from my throat and began to grip my hips. 

I started moaning loudly, there’s no point of bothering to hide the pleasure anymore. I’m already wet.  “Good girl” he grunted. His thrusts soon began to get rough and the sound of our skin clapping against each other filled the room.

His balls slapped abasing my clit and to be completely honest this is the best feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. I was filled with lust but also guilt. I was having sex with a murderer. Im just as bad as Billy and Stu.

“Mhhm you like that?” Billy moaned as he placed kissed along my neck. “Yes baby, feels- so good!” I replied as my eyes rolled back. He grabbed my legs and pushed them all the way back until they touched my ears.

His dick was digging deeper than it was before with this new angle. And I loved it. “Shit! I’m about to cum!” He moaned in my ear as whines left my throat. My legs were still pushed back as he began giving me powerful, slow thrusts. “Look at you creaming on my dick” he whispered.

“I love you’re dick so much!” I shouted as tears fell down my face. “I want this pretty pussy to cum on my dick, cmon baby, I know you can” He said in a husky voice. I don’t know but the voice just did it for me.

Suddenly the feeling in my stomach snapped and I came on his dick. “Ohh yesss” I screamed as my orgasm washed over me. Billy was still fucking me bust his thrusts got slow and sloppy, I knew he was coming to an end. 

He pulled out of me and came on my stomach. I looked down and the creamy substance and he swiped some of it with his fingers and shoved them in my mouth. I sucked the cum of his fingers as his rolled back and groans slipped from his mouth.

He eventually got up and began to put his clothes back on as I covered myself with the bed sheet. 

“Put you’re fucking clothes on you’re coming with us” he demanded. I didn’t want to anger him so I did as told without any back talk. I see how well that went for my friends…

As I was putting my shoes back on he walked over to me and stood in front of me. “Me and Stu are skipping town and you’re coming with us. We’re gonna go to the store, grab a couple of things, and leave” he stated.

I simply nodded my head and followed him out the room and downstairs to the front door. I was met with Randy’s dead body. He had been stabbed in his throat several times along with a bullet to the shoulder.

It took everything in me to hold my tears back. My friends were dead and I’m skipping town with their murderers..not like I had much of a choice though.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Stu appeared next to me. “Maybe Billy will let me have some fun with you” he said with a evil smirk on his face. “Not a chance, fuck rag!” Billy replied as he shoved Stu in the shoulder. ‘Ow!” Stu winced.