#I still need a crash course on how to tag holy fuck

[anxiousandcaffinated]

honestly, would do this

[writing-mlm]

We’re alike… aren’t we?

Summary: Jason gets help getting bandaged after being stabbed, you get help after your fear of needles stops you from taking your HRT Pairing: Jason Todd & Trans!reader Wc: 960 tags/warnings: gender neutral reader, can be nb/ftm/mtf, stitching jason up, taking HRT, mentions of being tortured, trans blues, no romance but can be seen as such

based on a tiktok by @/bloody_converse

—

Jason doesn’t understand why you stay around even after everything he’s done. You know his past, you know his present, and for fucks sake you probably see where his future is heading. But fuck, you’re still there. You’re still letting him in at one in the morning after he crashed through your window for the millionth time that month, all with open arms. 

You’re still giving him the good blanket because it’s the middle of winter and his suit isn’t all that good at keeping him warm. You’re still lowering the music because he’s bordering on a concussion. You’re still staring at him as if he isn’t a serial killer, crime lord, zombie!

He doesn’t understand that you get it. 

In your own way, of course. 

You know what it’s like having a family that mourns you even though you’re right in front of them. You know what it’s like to feel as if you’re in the wrong body, missing parts that you’ll probably never get no matter how hard you work because it’s not the same. It just isn’t. You understand all too well what it’s like when your family looks at you, not looking at the adult you’ve grown into but the child they once had. The child you can no longer be. The adult that cannot bear to accept because it’s not what they had in mind for you. 

You know what it’s like to be set aside, to be considered wrong. 

You both don’t like mirrors, broken enough that you’ve gotten bad luck for the next three lifetimes. You both get nervous when getting intimate with partners because what if they think your bodies are gross? You’ve both gotten fucked over by your fathers. 

“Did you take your shot?” He asks as you hand him a water bottle and a pill for his pain. 

“No,” You sigh, looking away from him. “I chickened out again.” He doesn’t laugh, but you see the twinkle in his eyes as he takes the pill without the water chaser. He still drinks it, though. It’s non-contaminated water, it’s like the holy grail for fucks sake. 

“Get it, I'll do it.” It’s no use putting up a fuss, he’d just get up and find it himself. Besides, you could really use the help. The needle thing still freaks you out and your insurance is moving slow to move you to something better like gel or auto injections things. 

When you return, he’s washing his hands and putting on a pair of gloves. Not to mention in one of his shirts he keeps at your place, something about having too many germs on his clothes to be next to medical equipment. He’s forgotten pants, you note. Probably because he’s bleeding from his outer thigh. 

“I’ll get the medkit,” Setting your box of HRT supplies on the coffee table, you ignore his protest. Getting the kit you’d gotten after the first time he crashed at yours needing medical attention but refusing to go to a hospital or Bruce’s. Which, for the record, is more often than you care to think about.

When you return he’s sitting on your floor, a small pool of blood collecting on his discarded shirt. You replace it with an old towel and clean the spot. He doesn’t wince, but you see his thigh tense as you wipe the area and begin stitching him up. He’s used to getting stitched up, it hardly affects him these days unless it’s a bad wound. Thankfully this is a small stab wound, it’ll heal in under a week if he doesn’t open the stitches. And he probably will at some point. 

“All done,” Grinning at your work, you wrap it in bandages and then put a pin to secure it. He’ll check on it once he can but he trusts your handy work, it hasn’t failed him yet. 

“Your turn,” He says when you remove your own set of latex gloves. You wince at the idea but begrudgingly let him do it. He moves you to the couch, lifting your shirt enough that he can see your stomach and has you hold it up. You do, knuckles pressing against your skin so much your hand starts to shake.

“You’re a lot better at stitching me up and putting a needle in your stomach,” He humors you as he’s grabbing an alcohol wipe, eyes flickering up to yours. He cleans the vile first, carefully setting it on the table when he’s done. 

“You try getting tortured by needles,” You mutter, blinking down at his hand as he wipes the area. It’s cold against your skin, even more so when he fans it for a second. “Fucking hate Joker,” 

“Don’t we all,” He grabs the bottle and a 1-millimeter syringe that makes you inhale and look away. “You’re good, you got this,” He mutters with his attention mostly on drawing the liquid into the syringe with a careful eye. He switches the needle before checking for air bubbles and pinches at your skin once he’s sure it’s perfect.

“Ready?” He asks. “You can squeeze my shoulder.” You can only muster a nod as you prepare yourself. He works slowly, watching as he carefully slides the needle into your stomach and then watches your face as he slowly injects it. He doesn’t like it when he helps you; the panic in you makes his stomach hurt but he also doesn’t want you to not take your HRT or have a panic attack trying to do it yourself. 

He pulls the needle out and wipes away the drop of blood before putting on a bandaid. 

“All done.” He smiles, snapping his gloves off. You drop your shirt with a sigh, running your hands over your face as you relax.

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-Friday Coda

Tagged by the always lovely @theotherbuckley @perfectlysunny02 @cal-daisies-and-briars @aroeddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @loserdiaz @wikiangela @daffi-990 @tizniz and @diazsdimples Thank you all so much for all the tags throughout the week and today! I have eased back on working NFL Buck because I am absolutely swamped with school. I have started clinic rounds and somehow the classwork has doubled for the next set of courses. Which holy crap. So a lot of my days are for studying, homework, and quizzes. Add on being a mom/house wife and yea, not a ton of time to work on my favorite WIP. But I am making time on Thursday to watch the newest 9-1-1 episodes and write codas, because I started them in the final episodes of season 6 and really enjoyed it! So I made a goal to make a coda for most if not all of season 7 episodes! 2/2! I will try my absolute damnest to get some work into NFL Buck because it is my baby and I know how much it is beloved. Until then, enjoy the season 7 codas. Posted to ao3.

7x02 Coda

“We-I…” Buck tries to find the right words again, but he has no idea what they should be.  He doesn’t know if he should be defending himself along with Eddie and Chimney, proclaim that they were just being honest with internal affairs. Or if he should defend Hen and the betrayal she felt when they couldn’t back her up.

Rock and a hard place, with Buck being squeezed tightly in between.

Chimney left the locker-room soon after Hen, with the passing false hope comment, “She’ll come around.”  His phone was half-way to his ear before disappearing around the ladder truck, most likely spilling the entire ordeal to Maddie.

Buck slumps back down on the bench and leans his head against the lockers, closing his eyes with a defeated sigh. Still standing close by, Buck hears Eddie hum in agreement. Yea, tonight was very much a downer.

“We should have had her back.” Buck finally says.

He feels additional weight added to bench and pressing warmth along his arm and thigh when Eddie sits beside him. “We did. We just all put our foots in our mouths trying to show her.” He assured.  He gives Buck knee a gentle squeeze, “You more than me with that whole ‘right call’ comment and wanting to give Captain Collier’s a hard time.”

Buck groans in embarrassment, “I was trying and horribly failing to lighten the mood.”

“The mood was dead on arrival; you had no chance.” Eddie chuckles.

They both go silent, stewing in the hurt emotions left behind by Hen and Chimney, mixing with their own anxiety and worry. It kind of reminds Buck of the last time Hen was captain and that man died at the happiness convention. God that felt like so long ago, when really is less than a year.  Yet here they all are, questioning themselves on the job after losing a patient and without Bobby’s steady leadership to help guide them through it.

Buck could only hope this didn’t send him or anyone else on the team into a spiral of questioning their purpose in life. And he really hoped it didn’t lead to another brush with death, for anyone of them.

The hand on Buck’s knee never left and gave another squeeze, pulling him from his past wallows and has his eyes fluttering open. He looks over at Eddie and sees an understanding smile gracing his lips. “That man’s death isn’t on us. We we’re working on the worst of the crash, and we saved that girl and her mother.  Hen made the right call, the same one Bobby would have made and when those lab results concur with her story, she’ll be back, and we’ll find a way to make it up to her.”

Buck takes a moment to let Eddie’s words sink it and pull him from the beginnings of a self-deprecating spiral. He did his job, he gave his facts of the event truthfully, and Hen would come around. In all regards, Buck just needed to learn how not to put his foot in his mouth, because at the moment it really was a nasty taste.

Slowly most of the tension that had built up during Hen’s confrontation eases away and Eddie felt it through the press of his shoulder into Buck’s, “That has to be a record.” He comments before getting to his feet and reaching a hand out.

Buck doesn’t even hesitate and tries his damnest not to flush too red as Eddie hauls him to his feet with little to no effort. The man has a girlfriend and Buck was done chasing. “Uh yea. Turns out when you stop trying to search for the life’s great moments and instead live in them, internal spiraling is easier to pull out of.” He explains. Eddie also is a big contributor, but Buck isn’t going to admit that to said man.

“Well… At least those self-help books will make good kindling for the next campfire.” Eddie cackles and Buck swats at his shoulder which only makes him laugh harder.

Eventually Buck joins in and the pit of dread dwindles further. He embraces this moment and knows eventually everything is going to be okay.

Short but somewhat sweet I hope! Tagging (no pressure): @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @buck-coded @devirnis @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @sunshinediaz @watchyourbuck @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bekkachaos @buddierights @try-set-me-on-fire @rainbow-nerdss @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @eddiiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @dangerpronebuddie @missmagooglie @thebloomingheather

[crowleys-hips]

Additional Tags:

dead nightingale: do not eat | Hurt No Comfort | Implied/Referenced Suicide | Suicide | Suicidal Thoughts | Hurt Crowley (Good Omens) | Angst | AU where everything goes wrong | Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence | Don't Try This At Home

Summary:

"And that's the tragedy of it all, isn't it? To have been so close within reach of that dream, fingers almost grazing it. Just for it to have burnt to the ground. He of all beings should've been wary of the dangers of flying too close to the sun. No one else knows the agony of scorched wings like he does.

But this fall? It's not one he's coming out alive from. He's lost everything now."

or

Crowley drinks holy water

There's nowhere to turn this time. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide and lick his wounds. Nowhere to brood. No alcohol strong enough to bear the injury of this reality. Everywhere is just a new hell where his own mind executes the torture.

How could he have gotten it so wrong?

How had he deluded himself into believing he really knew this angel? Six thousand bloody years and he still doesn’t know a single thing, apparently. He’s a demon. A wretched, worthless, atrocious, unforgivable, vile demon. That’s all he’ll ever be. But above all, unlovable. What the hell had he been thinking, thinking he and an angel could ever be anything? That a wretched thing like himself could ever mean anything to a being so pure and holy. His soiled hands are and have always been unfit to hold a heart as golden as his.

Stupid. stupid. stupid. So fucking stupid.

Friends? We’re not friends! We are an angel. And a demon. We have nothing whatsoever in common! I don’t even like you!

There is no ‘Our Side,’ Crowley!

I am good. You, I’m afraid, are evil

Shut up.

You were an angel once

Shut up. Shut up.

We may have both started off as angels, but you are fallen

SHUT UP. SHUT UP SHUT UP.

Well, obviously you said no to Hell, you’re the bad guys!

Crowley swerves abruptly, narrowly avoiding a double-decker, and hits the pedal as he uselessly tries to speed away from his own thoughts, but there’s no outrunning the truth. Aziraphale is gone. He chose Heaven over him. Because of course he did. He never even was an option to begin with. What a ridiculous notion.

We’re a team, a group. A group of the two of us-

How terribly fucking wrong he had been…but then why…?

I knew you’d come through for me. You always do…

I know you…

This is um, Crowley. He and I…go back a long time

Oh there’s no need to thank me, that’s what…friends…are for…

I need you!

Crowley growls as he glares at the blurry streets before him. No, no you don’t, he thinks as he presses his foot down. No, you fucking don't. You've demonstrated as much. He tries to ignore the relentless, burning, ice-cold pain that comes crashing down on him in waves, cracking his ribs, burning and constricting his lungs. His heart stings with every pathetic beat, like a constant plea to be set free of this torment.

Had it really all been a lie? Had he been lying to himself all this goddamn time? Had Aziraphale never seen him as anything but a convenient work partnership or whatever the fuck it is that they had going on for all these years? Was it just that? A transactional relationship? A dirty means to an end?

He’s barely aware of where he's going. The road gets blurrier and blurrier as he can’t fight the tears any longer.

Of course he’s not important. Never has been. Never will be. How could he have been so delusional? Aziraphale has never wanted him . Only the angel he once was. The angel who has long been dead. A starmaker cast into his own flames. His past self mocking him for all that could’ve been, had he just been someone entirely different. A corpse haunting his every waking moment.

You can’t necromance innocence, angel .

He as himself has never been enough. Never good enough. Never ever ever ever. That much should've been obvious from the start, but he’d been too busy reaching for this ludicrous fantasy of an Us pretending and hoping against all odds that he could have this. But of course, as it's bound to happen time and time again, reality came crashing down upon him. An iceberg sinking the unsinkable. Slowly, then all at once, tearing apart in half and dragging down a millennia old hoax -beauty built on lies, lies built on baseless hope- to the depths of an endless, cold void. And even so, even now, at the very end of his world, this faithless love is the only hoax he'll ever believe in. There's nothing left of him but the memory of warm lips, soft, shaking hands on his back that, for just an infinitesimal spark of time, deigned to hold him close, and a grief-stricken face mixed with disgust and contempt. Those piercing, stormy blue eyes burnt at the forefront of his mind.

I forgive you.

Crowley chokes on a sob as he veers up a dirt road at the side of a hill. He's somewhere south of London, he doesn't know where, he just knows he's far enough away from everything. This is it now. Enough stalling.

He stops the car near a cliffside and turns off the engine. He takes a moment to wipe his tear-streaked face and takes a couple of deep, shaky breaths to steel himself before reaching into the glove compartment with a shaking hand. There it is. He carefully pulls out the little glass vial. He turns it around in his hand, staring at the clear liquid pensively. Memories of a distraught angel warning him about destruction fill his mind.

“Well, it's not like it matters to you anymore. You have no use for me now. You'll never know,” he mutters out loud, sighing in defeat.

He slides his sunglasses off and places them on top of the dashboard before he goes to open the door, but finds it’s locked. He tries again.

“C’mon,” he sighs and yanks on the handle. “You can’t do this. You’re my car and you will do as I say,” he yanks harder, to no avail. He sighs. “Alright. fine. I’ll just do it in here then.”

There’s a pause. After a few seconds, he hears the click of the door unlocking.

“That’s what I thought,” he reaches for the door again, but stops.

He looks back at the wheel. The dashboard. The all too silent stereo. The gear stick. The passenger seat where he had been beside him so many times. The rearview mirror with the memory of his image forever burnt onto it. The backseat with his plants. Everything. Delicately tracing every surface with his mournful eyes.

“I’ll miss you too, old friend,” he whispers to the car, taking one final look at it. “I’m sorry,” he looks away and finally climbs out.

He walks up the short path to the edge of the cliff and looks out at the ocean. The echo of longing stares fills his memory. He looks out at the ocean and tries not to think of how he’d been drowning in that haze of silver blue for all his life, aching for air, living for the hope of it all. He looks out at the ocean and takes a deep breath, the salt air stinging the wounds in his soul. All those times that he’d felt truly seen, with or without shades, just to find out that all along those angelic eyes had been wrapped under a blindfold. The nudity of his emotions means nothing now, because what he had deemed worthy of the risk and effort just to be known, his angel had deemed it all worth the loss. All evidence of their shared fragile existence being something worth fighting for and staying alive for is nothing now but the ashes of a once raging fire that had burned too bright for its own good. A collision of two stars resulting in a violent supernova, leaving behind nothing but a blackhole in its aftermath.

He cradles the shattered pieces of six thousand years close to his heart, weeping at the impossibility of ever piecing it all back together. His only one love gone, his kingdom come undone, what else is there left for him now, but to give in to the vastness of this new nonexistence?

He looks down at the little vial in his hand. Six thousand years worth of memories swirl around in his mind. Shared laughs over hearty meals. Long walks around a park. Seemingly endless nights of drinking and long conversations. Small favors. Grand gestures. Intricate plans just to spend some time together. Little stolen moments shared on begged and borrowed time. A song. A slow dance. An almost. An oh-so-painful almost. And that's the tragedy of it all, isn't it? To have been so close within reach of that dream, fingers almost grazing it. Just for it to have burnt to the ground. He of all beings should've been wary of the dangers of flying too close to the sun. No one else knows the agony of scorched wings like he does.

But this fall? It's not one he's coming out alive from. He's lost everything now.

He unscrews the lid from the vial and looks out at the ocean again, thinking of those silver blue eyes.

He drinks.

On a hill not so far behind stands an old cobblestone house that's been empty for years. It's been on sale for the past decade or so, but to its misfortune, no one will ever buy it. It just stands there, waiting for warmth and love to finally inhabit it. To restore its crumbling facade and revive the light within. But none will ever come.

𓅪

Over the next few years, ornithologists all over the world started to debate over the strange phenomenon that occurred that particular year. All nightingales from every corner of the planet had mysteriously lost their ability to sing. All sorts of theories for its cause started to spring, from climate change to habitat loss to changes in their own nature. But no one ever figured out why. And little by little, every single one went extinct.

One single angel in Heaven heard the silence. The loss carved him hollow. Not being able to face his insurmountable grief, he spent the rest of his eternity trying to figure out how to rewind time to undo the damage.

It is unknown if he ever succeeded.

[be-side-my-self]

First watch of Season 4 of Only Murders In The Building

Rewatch of ONLY Murders In The Building to prepare for season 4:

<Part I> // <Part II> // <Part III> // <Part IIII> // <Part V> // <Part VI> // <Part VII> // <Part VIII>

This is no rewatch but my new posts can also easily be blocked because I'll continue to use #OMITBRewatch as a tag. I'll also tag #OMITBS4. While quoting, I use M, O, C for the main characters.

S4 E1

I'm excited... who killed Sazz?

Those old home movies are adorable. And it shows again, how people are still recognizable even decades later.

... how sad that they didn't even go looking for Sazz?

In the intro... Howard is walking a dog? Not his cat?

What the fuck?! They did not find Sazz... :(

Again, What the fuck??

At least Charles is worried...

Funny that Mabel is now crashing at Olivers place when he crashed at her place before.

O: "Donna and Cliff have pulled their financing! For 'bail' and 'defense attorneys', some stupid shit like that!!"

Not stupid to them!

Oliver is so dramatic.

C: "Hey, I'm sorry about all this but it could be worse. All morning, I have been hearing this whistling sound. I might have a brain tumor" O: "Look, don't try to cheer me up."

Howard got a puppy! Why did he come to Charles apartment?

Awww Gravy is cute. A goldie!

Okay... did Gravy used to work as a cadaver dog?

Lmao...

Oh my god! The corpse is not there anymore but Gravy did smell the blood Mabel smelled.

That really is a bit of a bizarre scene of New York... and if it is a Godzilla movie why is it important that the one grandpa needs help with his microwave? ... is it a parody movie?

Bev Melon...

Bev is a freak.

The Brothers... yeah I can see how that is confusing.

Trina and Tawny Brothers

They don't look Identical. And... they are kind of weird.

Bev: "Oliver who we want to strangle and cuddle at the same time. And Charles, everyone's un-fun uncle with his grouchy, little turtle face. And Mabel, with your traumatized, homeless, jobless, mumbling millennial charm stuck between these two old dudes."

I think that would be the point when I jam on the breaks. Jeebus fuck, Bev.

Bev: "Oh, we don't need to do numbers. You can just have your lawyers call business affairs."

Fucking hell, Bev.

... they don't have lawyers... I assume. Mabel certainly has none.

What the fuck?

"Howdy!"

Sidney...

C: "Well, let's get into this gas guzzler"

When they are in the limo and stand up, I can't help but remember the Bob's Burgers episode in which they are told they can't do it because so many people lost their heads because of the movie "Big" with "Thomas Hanks". Nat (the limo driver) is great.

OH! Okay... the stop Oliver wanted to do was to get burgers. Of course he needs food.

What is up with all those Western motifs? What is up with that?

C: "I'm Eugene Levy?" M: "I'm Eva Longoria." Eva: "Yeah." O: "I'm... I wanna say Tim." "I am Jack Black." (???????????) O: "Ah, that's it. Yeah." "I'm not Jack Black." Bev: "Oliver, that is Zach Galifi--" O: "Oh, yes! Zach Galifragilistic, of course." Zach: "Ha! I see what you're doing. People do this. You're trying to 'Beween two Ferns' me."

... Oliver really does not know him... well neither do I... who is this? I think I've seen him before but uhm... also let me check something.

"Between Two Ferns with Zach Galifianakis is an American talk show hosted by comedian Zach Galifianakis which features celebrity guests." ... I have never heard of this. Okay, I checked and I might recognize his voice as Felix Fishoeder from Bob's Burgers. And... that is probably it. I haven't even watched the Hangover movies and without the beard I did not recognize him at all.

... the age gap was creepy? Really?

The people who thought it's creepy need to check their reality.

Holy shit. Zach and Oliver do not get along. Like Zach is burning Oliver... holy shit.

Also it's amazing that Eugene is a fan of Charles. That is a fun twist.

They are equally awkward too.

Loretta!

That is actually a good advice, Eva.

Cowboys and whistling wind are motifs in this episode... maybe the season.

... omg Loretta and Oliver are so cute... and it looked like he almost asked her to marry him or something? Awww...

SCOTT BAKULA!

Okay, now I see why Sazz was also doing stunts for him. I always remember him younger.

They are breaking in.

Sirens blaring in LA is not worrysome at all.

Lester is great...

Howard: "No, it's Grave-y. Shewas a CADAVER DOG!" Called it!

And everything comes together.

So, where is the body?

The trash chute... of course.

Right in the incinerator...

Oh Sazz :(

... so how did they get on the other building to shoot Sazz and then got into the Arconia to get rid of the body?

[one-winged-dreams]

MASSIVE LORE DUMP, AS PROMISED, I'm high as shit so I hope I conveyed my vision wel

using my tag list just in case

Tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @lysandreslittlechatot @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @adoredbyalatus @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships @kylars-princess @little-miss-selfships

Okay so as far as I've got, everything started when some "heavenly matter" fell to Earth. It was humanoid but possessed no organs or indicators that it was at all a sapient being.

So of course it gets dragged off and every researcher on the planet NEEDS to get their hands on it. So humanity does its thing where "we don't know what it is but let's find out what we can do with it.

A few month or a year later comes first contact with aliens who show up and are like "So that stuff came here, right?" And once the semantics of 'holy fuck, aliens' wore off humanity was like "oh the heavenly matter? Yeah, neat stuff, been playing around with possibilities, why?" And the aliens are like "Do you want space kaiju? Because that's how you get space kaiju." "What does THAT mean?" "You'll find out if you don't stop fucking with it."

And then they leave and of course humanity doesn't listen. And then giant space kaiju DO start showing up. Which means humanity does what humanity does and tries to build giant robots. Giant artificial cyborgs is more like it. Whatever they're mechs. Later the call them Angels seeing as how they're made out of the "heavenly matter"

They're supposed to be fitted with an AI but the AI keeps getting rejected. Lo and behold, the thing has created a brain and has it's own consciousness. This proves to be extremely interesting and troublesome because there is little to no communication. It may as well be a newborn baby. An AI program is created to give them an instant crash course in the basics of humanity but it's still difficult to communicate with them because they can't speak (no vocal chords) and they can barely move on their own. Eventually one manages to tap into a network (what kind I do not know) Bluetooth style and requests a neural link with a human being. It will be absolutely permanent, there will be a person in your head at all times, and the connection can't be broken until both of them die.

Sounds good let's do it.

So they start trying to link the Angels up with people but they find out that compatibility is difficult to discern. After a while it's discovered that certain people with cognitive degeneration or imbalanced brain chemicals take to the link almost immediately. THAT'S a secret they keep under wraps, along with the fact that it's a legitimate treatment that works at the price of you never having personal privacy again.

Anyway, a company is born called -gestures bc I've got nothing rn- that becomes the face of the project. It's made up of multiple nations of the world as to discourage the Angels as weapons of war. Which would eventually have happened if the space kaiju didn't actually show up.

The ones that had been neutrally linked to an Angel were instructed to enter the (very gross and squishy and slimy) inside so that a full neural link could be completed. And then it was monster ass kicking time. The Angels made perfect weapons against the Kaiju and the aliens from first contact came by like "we have literally never seen anyone crazy enough to do what it is you're doing, teach us because these things have been wrecking us forever,"

And so the corporation expands all over the world and out into various civilizations through space.

And so being a pilot is COOL now, you're a hero, a sports star, a celebrity and public figure. There are usually three to five pilots in one base (which is the building they keep the mechs in as well as a building so huge it's literally a self contained community for employees and pilots to live in for the sake of convenience. Anyway the company is like the biggest deal on the planet.

The way they scout for pilots is to find someone with an abysmal psych case file and cross reference it with their cognitive ability. Then they swoop in like "I know life's hard sweetie? Don't you want to be healed? Don't you want to be a star?" And suddenly there's a new idol to fawn over. The Angels are just as popular, sentient mechs are hype as fuck. the pairs go on becoming full on celebrities.

The neural link itself is a two way mental connection between the Angel and the pilot. They hear feel and see the same things and hear each other's thoughts. It's the ultimate commitment because it can never be broken.

When pilots are out or need their Angel's presence without lugging a giant 40 foot tall (absolute MINIMUM, They can go as big as 80 feet) mech around, they have a neural Bluetooth speaker attached to their own person because they do meetups and talk shows and all that other bullshit.

Anyway, Sariel is an aerial unit, so he's got big angel wings (shhhh let's not think about the mass production EVAs for a second) and he's only 40 feet tall. He's got charm but in a rough sort of way. He's kind of a jackass but a playful one.

I'll talk about my insert on the design art.

So uh

I got got by this post

so...

potential new oc f/o just dropped 👉👈

ABSOLUTELY ripping off the concept of religious themes in mecha series, he's like... a giant sentient mech. That has flesh also? And his designated name is Sariel.

I need to put like, an actual plot together because I need a convoluted narrative to make a dynamic

But yeah >:I

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @lysandreslittlechatot @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @adoredbyalatus @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships @kylars-princess @little-miss-selfships

[luvrlixie]

KILLING ME SOFTLY

【REQUESTED】 - OKAY OKAY SJDBJSISH I WAS GONNA REQUEST A SKZ SEEING YOU IN THEIR CLOTHES OR SOMETHING BUT THEN I STARTED THINKING ABOUT BINNIE SEEING YOU IN SHORT SHORTS AND HIS SHIRT WHICH IS LIKE HUGE ON YOU (ALSO THIS MAN IS DEF A THIGH GUY) AND MY MAN GOES F E R A L. SO. YOU LET HIM RIDE YOUR THIGH <33333

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tags: changbin x gn! reader, soft dom reader, thigh riding/dry humping, very soft, exhibitionism????????? idk they aren't alone in the dorm but no one walks in. not a lot of smut sorry y'all </3 mostly just sappy emotions.. but still nsfw... lit rally wrote at 4am and don't feel like editing lmaoo

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"seriously binnie! if you're gonna spend so much money on clothes, you should at least wear them. you have so many cute sweaters and the fact that they're collecting dust in the back of your closet is a crime."

changbin sat up and peered over the back of the couch as you entered the room. he was ready to shoot back a snarky comment but his words died on his tongue as soon as he saw you.

you stopped by the studio to visit him earlier, where he and the rest of 3racha were working on a track for the next album. you hadn't planned on staying long since you knew your boyfriend would be busy. but about 20 minutes after showing up chan was ushering everyone else out of the room, claiming that he had everything he needed from the other boys for now and that they both deserved a night off. any worries you or changbin might have had about chan overworking himself were immediately replaced by the realization that the two of you would finally have some time alone.

and that brought you to where you were now. standing in front of a blushing boy, wearing shorts and a long shirt of his that completely hid said shorts. you had decided to change after your boyfriend proposed that you spend the night. (at the time he was excited for movies and cuddles, but now it was an offer that he was starting to regret as he could already feel himself growing hard). the shirt you wore was one that changbin never put on due to it's size, he didn't think the whole oversized clothes style was really his thing.

but holy fuck it was yours.

"you uh- you look good."

changbin swallowed and you squinted. he was always a sucker for you wearing his clothes, but it was still odd for him to be turning so red just from seeing you in an shirt of his. luckily it didn't take long for you to notice the way his eyes wouldn't meet yours since they were focused on a different part of your body. you couldn't help but let out a little giggle. seeing you in his clothes might make him weak, but his biggest weakness was your thighs. he'd never exactly talked about your thighs in particular, but it was something that you had picked up on as your relationship progressed. you couldn't help but notice how changbin was always making sure to leave little marks on the inside of your thighs, and would jump at the chance to lay between them when he got sleepy, and how he would often pull out just in time to paint your thighs with his cum.

"like what you see?" you asked playfully as you took a few steps forward so you were standing in front of him.

"like what i- fuck yes... you're gonna be the death of me y/n."

you hummed in amusement, loving the affected you had on your boyfriend, and tangled a hand in his hair so you could guide him forward and let him press kisses on your thighs.

"mm seriously, on my gravestone it's gonna say your name after cause of death" changbin breathed out as he happily trailed his lips over your skin.

"that makes it sound like I murdered you, I'm not a fan of that"

you stood there for a few more minutes. finally moving away once you sensed that changbin was growing impatient. although you loved making your boyfriend beg, now was not that time for that. even though you moved to sit down next to him, changbin whined when you stepped away. knowing you, the poor boy was worried that you were gonna make him suffer through the whole movie with a boner. however, you had much different plans in mind for tonight.

with a smile, you slid a hand between his legs. "such a pretty noise, that little whine. wanna make it again for me?"

changbin's mouth went dry, he opened it to say something but nothing would come out. how were you always able to make him speechless? he did want to make that noise for you again. he wanted you to coo over how cute he sounded, but not here. not in the living room with minho still tucked away in his room, and with hyunjin and seungmin who were expected back at any minute.

"please, please let's go to my room. I need you."

you shook your head and started palming at chnagbin's crotch through his sweatpants, making his body go slack. "shh baby it's okay, calm down. I was just gonna let you grind against my thigh, let you get off like that. we'll be fully clothed so if anyone walks in it'll be pretty easy to play it off as cuddling or a makeout session."

that seemed to be all the reassurance that changbin needed. the way you were touching him paired with your soft voice was making his head spin. all he was focused on now was making you happy and chasing his orgasm. not even a second went by until he was moving onto your lap so he was facing you and straddling one of your legs.

"there you go! good boy."

you helped him settle into a comfortable position and pulled him close so his chest was pressed against yours and his face was buried in your neck. as changbin started to move his hips, you continued whispering words of encouragement and gentle praises since you could feel how tense he had gotten. changbin hadn't exactly done this before. and although the whole thing seemed rather self explanatory and he had gotten off by rutting against a pillow multiple times, he felt a bit self conscious with you watching his every move.

"It's okay bunny, there's no right or wrong way to do this. just whatever feels good." you whispered soothingly into his ear, catching the nervous look in his eyes and the way his movements kept faltering.

it was silly of him to be nervous, he realized. the safest he had ever felt was with you, and over the course of your relationship you had both tried out plenty of new things together (both in and out of the bedroom). thigh riding? this was nothing, you had certainly seen him in much more embarassing situations. so changbin nodded and finally started settling into a steady pace, trusting your words entirely.

every drag of his cock elicited a soft ah sound from the dark haired boy. luckily, you didn't have to worry about him being too loud. he was vocal and made plenty of noise, but always quiet whimpers and soft choruses of "oh"s. you could get him to be loud if you wanted to, you knew how. for now the tiny noises he was making was more than enough to satisfy you as you played with his hair and peppered his forehead with kisses. "there you go bun, bet it feels so good huh?" as you spoke you pressed your leg upwards, applying extra pressure to the whimpering boy's cock. the gasp he let out made your eyes widen in entertainment and you repeated the action, taking pleasure in how he squirmed everytime. "keep going little slut, don't slow down. doesn't my bunny wanna make a pretty mess for me?"

"m-more'" changbin panted.

normally you'd chastise him for not saying please. but right now you honestly couldn't care less. you just wanted your boyfriend to feel loved. wanted him to be as proud of himself as you are of him. so you smiled and pressed your leg up again, hands gripping onto his hips so that you can help guide his movements. "that song you were working on when I visited sounded so good. I know you've been working so hard on it. you're so talented baby, so amazing." changbin let out a sort of strangled noise and tightened his arms around you, pulling himself as close to you as he could get. the absence of words didn't bother you. sometimes changbin babbled on and on while you ruined him, telling you how good he felt and how much he loved you. while other times he just clings onto you, settling on a variety of whines to communicate. both were good.

as the familiar tightness grew in changbin's body, he focused on following the push and pull of your arms. if it wasn't for you guiding him he would have entirely lost his rhythm. knowing that your boyfriend was getting close, you started bouncing your leg and kneading his ass with one hand.

"changbin.. binnie, hey. c'mon let me see your face" you softly prodded, waiting for him to pull back. when he did, your heart squeezed in your chest.

he was so beautiful.

his lips were parted and his bottom lip was glossy and red from biting down on it too hard. his hair was sticking out in a few places, and his eyes were so full of pleasure. you could tell from the glassy look that changbin wasn't entirely present, his thoughts were elsewhere.

"m'gonna..." changbin slurred, hips twitching and back arching. you caught on immediately and softly grabbed his chin to make sure he didn't hide his face again, you always loved to see his face screw up as he comes. this time was no different.

"good boy, good boy let it all out for me"

you helped him ride out his orgasm and leaned forward to kiss him. not even caring that the kiss was messy and mostly just teeth since changbin was panting far too heavily to give you a proper kiss. when changbin's orgasm had finished washing through his body, you let him crash back into your chest. as you waited for him to catch his breath you rubbed his back and buried your face in his hair, giving him time to compose himself before talking.

"I love you binnie"

"..love you too y/n ... but seriously you're way too hot ... gonna die from sexiness overload"

[hotdamnhunnam]

Jax + 👀⏰🚭

Thanks for your request for my Emoji Fic Fest! 💗

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Up in Smoke

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, overused tropes y’all have already read (friends to lovers + only 1 bed) Word Count: ~1.3k Emoji Prompt: 👀⏰🚭 (key words are in bold)

“What?”

You glare at him and keep your mouth shut. How the fuck dare he ask what.

He went and said it as if he has any right to look so hot when he’s supposed to look like shit. Just sitting there. Sleep-deprived stare, messy ass hair. Ratty old shirt stinking of sweat and dirt and he just doesn’t care. Jax Fucking Teller never looks like shit, not even just a little bit.

Last night he got stuck in a fight and needed somewhere quiet he could crash and hide. As his best friend you somehow got caught in the middle of it. Now you and Jax are cooped up here in this motel out on the roadside. Some unspoken tension rears its ugly head between you two and you’ve no clue how to get rid of it.

Actually you do—you have more than just a clue—you know you need this stupid sexy piece of shit to fucking fuck you.

“How’d you sleep,” you ask without lifting your voice into a question. Your own sleep wasn’t that deep. You’d tossed and turned in every possible direction. On a mattress that felt like the pit of hell—expected nothing less from this motel, given the room was so dirt cheap.

He gives you that signature you’re-a-stupid-whore look which between friends is endearing. Friends or not, coming from him it’s fucking hot. A whole damn kink. “How do you think.”

You cross your arms and scowl. He chose to sleep on a scrappy old towel. “Christ, don’t be a dick about it. I told you to take the blanket but you said you’d be fine on the floor without it.”

Jax ignores that and just pulls a cigarette out. Sticks it in the sweet pink pucker of his mouth. You want to be that cigarette right now. You wish he’d read your mind somehow. Why can’t this big blonde idiot figure it out…?

He takes a puff and looks so hot you might start choking. You can’t handle that today. “Put that away. This room’s non-smoking.”

Snickers at you as his broad shoulders lift up in a slight shrug. “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

You start to fume, the smell of smoke and your own slutty desperation swirling all around the room. “You’re gonna set off the alarm—”

Reach down to yank the cigarette out of his mouth but then he swiftly grabs your arm. That ice-blue fire in his eyes that could do you serious harm. The way you wish he would—he’d rough you up so fucking good… he’s more the fire-breathing dragon than Prince Charming but to you the beast has all the fucking charm.

Last night he’d been a gentleman and had insisted that you take the bed. Today you’re mad ‘cause you had been desperate for him to share the bed with you instead.

He doesn’t know that yet. But he could sense it from the second that you grabbed his cigarette. Jax doesn’t want your lifelong friendship to go up in smoke but he’s been itching to get in your pants for years and if you’re standing here and handing him a ticket… maybe if the sex is epic then it’s worth getting his dick wet. Epic sex is one thing Jax Fucking Teller never regrets.

***************

“Bitch, all you had to do was ask.”

He’s such an ass. That shit is so typical Jax.

He growls it fierce, ridge of his teeth grazing the soft lobe of your ear—thick fingers slide across your slick sensitive clit, seeking the tight heat of your slit—then fucking pierce—he can’t believe he has you here and holy shit—it’s stark how different you appear. He tells himself it’s just a fuck, but no such luck, as something sparks and runs him over like a truck.

Jax Teller never feared the dark but just the light: something that felt too fucking bright. Done so much wrong he has no right. Having you near—this was exactly what he’d feared. Had tried to fight. He’d won last night. He’s losing it with you right here.

The lines between friendship and whatever this is should’ve stayed clear. For fucking years, that was the path he’d tried to steer. Stroking his dick alone in bed, or drowning in another chick he had just met—picturing you instead—that was the closest he could get.

Until you grabbed that motherfucking cigarette.

It’s barely been a minute yet, and you’re already dripping wet. It hits him now that’s how you’ve always been for him. It hits him now that you adore him. That you’d do anything for him.

Hits him in the way you hold him like you’re on the verge of death—the way you lick into the heaven of his kiss with your sweet tongue, fucking explore him—suck the smoke out of his lungs, white hot and seething. You’re the fire that the beast in him is breathing. He’s your first and last and only fucking breath.

You’re set to shatter into pieces on his knuckles, and he wants to fucking cry at just how beautiful you are, but that’s the shit that would cut deep enough to scar, and so instead he fucking chuckles.

Makes you weak; you’d scream at him if you had words to even speak. Just leave it to this piece of shit to fucking lighten it. He drags his fingers from your soaking cunt right in the instant just before you hit your peak, and you can’t keep him in no matter how you tighten it.

Here you had thought you both felt something that meant everything, but suddenly you worry that your inner slut got carried off imagining. Suddenly you think of course that’s not what’s happening. You’re just spread out beneath your best friend on the crap mattress of some seedy motel, and there’s no fucking way the fallout from this session will go over well. No way you can go back to what you were, after this ravaging. No way you can go further and become more in the future, which is what your stupid little heart desires more than anything. No way in hell. No way in fucking hell.

You’re slipping fast and he can tell. Tripping somewhere inside yourself. He’d run away from all the weight of that—or fuck through all the issues, if it’s not too late for that—that’s what he’d do, if you were anybody else.

You’re not.

You’re you and that’s what scares him. Like, a lot. He’s never felt something that tears him, but he’s shocked to find the pain and fear of feeling more than he can even bear just makes him harder, pushes him to take this farther. God, it’s super fucking hot.

The doubt and heartbreak radiating from you twist him up in knots. Jax had no clue, just what that little laugh off of his wicked lips would do. He did it to protect himself but didn’t think it would screw you. He sees it’s true, your pretty face painting the picture of your thoughts. Inches from pushing him away but pull him close instead ‘cause whether friend or lover, you’ll still love him like no other. Cling to him with all you’ve got.

He knows you better than he has any damn right to. He’s in you before he ever drives inside you. Always has been. This was real before it happened.

Holds you as you’re gasping—big strong hand soft on your face, the other keeps your hips in place, forehead against yours as he looks at you with eyes the blue of hope and then becomes the rope you’re grasping.

All the lines of who you were—the blindness of before—didn’t just blur. They fucking broke. You take him deep into your core, and let him wreck until it hurts, beg without words, for him to fuck you like a whore and so much more, and breathe him in so deep you choke.

There’s light on both ends of this cigarette, and no regret, as everything goes up in smoke.

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Emoji Fic Masterlist

Emoji Fic Tag List – below; if you’d like to be added or removed, just let me know!

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[existslikepristin]

Yexercise

This was the vote story immediately after Movie Night. Note: image has all three members from the beginning, but it ended up being all Yeri.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, Yeri, male reader insert, blowjob, titfucking, anal, va--nilla sex, workout sex, exhaustion, kink talk, appearances from Wendy/Seulgi/Irene but JoY hAs A bOyFrIeNd

~~~~~

"Hey, thanks. You don't need to give me the discount though," you say. You put your wallet back in your pocket, pick up the bag of muffins, and take the coffee from the guy across the counter.

"Nonsense! The Lounge wouldn't be so successful without your help. Besides, the profit margin on that stuff is insane."

The two of you chuckle with each other for a moment, and you smell the coffee he practically gave you free. Fresh roasted and ground on location, not too much sugar, and slightly more cream than usual. "Damn, man. This stuff smells like heaven."

"Heaven? Haha! More like Brazil! But speaking of heaven, who's the lucky lady today? You never get more than one muffin on your own."

You shrug. The man knows you, that's for sure. "Well, not a date this time. Wendy asked me to meet her here,"

"Oh, Red Velvet?"

"Yup. I think it's a business thing. I was asking her about song composing but I'm not supposed to tell you she's getting into that."

"Of course." He raises his eyebrows and flattens his mouth. "You know how Mr. SM can be about these things."

That's exactly what SinB and Eunha said and did a couple days ago, and nobody ever explained what they meant. "Actually, I--"

"Ah, there she is! And Seulgi and Yeri too!"

You turn around to see that he is definitely correct. Holding the door open is Wendy, dressed in a blue-and-white-striped sweater that sags off one of her shoulders, baggy blue jeans, and white sneakers. Her light brown hair is draped over one shoulder. Her casual outfit is contrasted by her exceptional, yet minimal make up.

Yeri has already passed her and entered the building. Unlike Wendy, her make up consists of some lazy eyeliner and not much else. Your heart skips a beat when you see her light gray yoga pants are as tight as a second skin, though her pink hoodie hangs just low enough to see any of her ass. She's cut her hair into a short bob again, and dyed it dirty blonde.

Seulgi follows Yeri, and certainly looks the most put-together overall. Her jet black hair is pulled into a ponytail so you can see her glamorous earrings and bright red lips. She's wearing a nearly wrinkleless white dress shirt barely see through enough to show her bra, black business pants, and short black heels.

A shiver crashes down your spine, nearly making you drop your coffee. You're not sure you'll ever get used to seeing all these gorgeous idols in person, and especially not when they're approaching you.

"Hey, sorry we're late," Wendy opens the conversation, "We got held up for a minute."

Yeri smirks. It looks like she's paying more attention to the menu overhead than to any one person. "Held up by some Canadian grandma driving."

Wendy frowns. "It's called a speed limit."

Seulgi gives you a short bow. You do the same back. Finally, a regular greeting. Then again, it makes sense since she's the one you've spent the least amount of time with. That's not saying much though, since you haven't had much opportunity to get to know any member of Red Velvet. "Good to see you again," she says formally.

"Oh shut up Sluggo, you know why we're here." Yeri points up at the menu. "I'll take the mocha--"

"What she means is... Well, can we talk?" Wendy asks, looking more than a little flustered.

"Yeah, totally. I got some muffins for us to share, but I thought it was just going to be the two of--"

"Fuck yeah, bro! Thanks!" Yeri snatches the muffin bag out of your hand and has one halfway in her mouth before you can protest.

Wendy sighs. "Let's sit down, shall we?"

Getting a table with room for four is a simple matter. Seulgi sits opposite from you, Yeri next to her, and Wendy next to you.

Yeri's busy eating both of the muffins you bought, which may be the only reason Wendy is able to finish her thoughts. "So, we don't have a whole lot of time. We're actually-- well, two of us are going to a gig in like fifteen minutes, but you know we're really busy. I mean, of course, you know us, and we've got a thing in fifteen-- Ugh. I'm sorry, I'm so bad at this. How's your day been?"

Normally in all of your previous conversations, short as they have been, you've noticed that Wendy is generally much more confident than this. "Um, pretty good. It's still early though. Just got here myself, so I haven't had time to do much today."

"Oh geez, that's right. I'm sorry, the last few weeks have really just been blending together, you know? So like, you know Yerin right? I mean, of course you know Yerin. So Yerin has been talking to Joy, and you've been brought up in that, and so we know a little bit about you."

You chuckle and scratch the back of your neck. "Ah, crap. If Yerin's been talking about me, I can only imagine the kinds of things she's said." Obviously, your history with Yerin and her perverted attitude can mean one thing.

Seulgi blushes. "Y-yeah. Is it okay that we're talking to you about this?"

"I mean, we haven't really talked about anything specific yet."

"They mean sex." Yeri blurts out, slightly muffled by muffin.

You laugh. Thinking back on Wendy's texts and her vague word choices, you figured she had a serious question for you, but you still can't figure out what it is she wanted to talk to you about. It's a little awkward that she brought two of her group members with her if she's looking for advice, too. "I kind of figured that's what it was about. But hell yeah, I'm an open book. What's on your mind?"

Wendy lets out a relieved sigh. "Oh my gosh, thank you. I thought I was going to die from my own awkwardness there."

She pauses as a barista walks over with Yeri's drink. You make note of the way, out of the corner of her eye, Yeri watches the barista's ass as she walks away.

Wendy continues with a bright smile that you're a little more used to seeing, "So uh, the three of us are currently looking for something, and wanted to know what your rates are."

You hesitate, piecing together what Wendy just said with the fact that the conversation has been defined as one about sex. "Has Yerin been... saying I'm a prostitute?"

Suddenly, it feels like you're in a pressure cooker. Silence grips the table as the tension rises. Wendy stares at you like a deer in the headlights, her eyes widening slowly and her smile fading.

The sound of the steamer behind the store's counter sets off a chain reaction of noise.

"OH MY GOD," Wendy shouts, "I AM SO SORRY!"

Yeri slaps the table and bursts into laughter, sending crumbs of muffin everywhere. Seulgi is glowing red, shaking all over, and looking frantically between you, Wendy, and the mess Yeri is making.

"I DIDN'T MEAN-- OH GOD--" Wendy grabs your arm with both hands, crushing down as if she's afraid you're about to leave. She lowers her voice to a hushed tone, but speaks at the speed of a runaway train, "I'm so sorry I didn't mean anything by it I supp-- We all support the sex work industry and I'm sorry I didn't me--"

The other two have effectively disappeared. Seulgi, with her arms covering her face and crouched low in her chair. Yeri has fallen to the floor, truly making the scene worse with how hard she's laughing and gasping for air.

For as mildly insulted as you feel, you aren't very surprised, considering Yerin's habit of using insults and crude words as terms of endearment. You smirk and put a hand on Wendy's shoulder. You try to calm her down, but are slightly afraid she won't hear you through her rambling, "Hey, hey. You're good. I'm not a prostitute, but it's fine."

Wendy slows down, but appears to be on the verge of hyperventilation. "I can't believe this. I shouldn't have assumed. Oh god. I am such a dumbass."

You get out of your chair and wrap your arms around her. She immediately shuts up, face melting into your chest. "You're good, Wendy. Honestly, that's hilarious more than anything."

Yeri is calming down a little as well, with the aid of Seulgi furiously brushing away the streaks of black makeup running off of her eyes. Even so, she can barely manage to get back into her chair, still having giggle fits and clutching at her stomach.

"I might not be one, but I think I can help you out anyway. What exactly are you looking for?" You let go of Wendy and watch her dab at a few tears that started with a napkin.

"No, no. I don't think I can say after all that. I am... so embarrassed right now."

Still fighting to catch her breath, Yeri chimes in, "We're too busy to find dick so she tried to find a way to schedule it. Holy shit, 'Sup? How's your day? How much do you charge for a good time, ho?' Right? Wow, Wendy."

"Yeri! That's not what she said!" Seulgi slaps at Yeri's arm and nervously looks around for anyone who might still be watching.

"Might as well have been! This is the best!"

You can't help but chuckle along with Yeri. You stare in her direction, hoping to get her attention with your next sentence, "You don't have to pay to fuck me."

That shuts Yeri up. She stares back. "Woah, you serious?"

You sit back down and glance at Wendy and Seulgi. They're staring too.

"Yeah, why not? Sounds like fun. Hell, I'd go for it right now, but you've got a gig to get to, right?"

Seulgi shakily raises a hand as if she's asking permission to speak. "O-only two of us are going to that."

Underneath the table, you feel someone's foot sliding up and down your leg. You have no doubt it's Yeri's, as she speaks up again, "Why don't you guess which one of us isn't busy today?"

Yeah. Why don't you?

Options for Part 1 [IMPORTANT (duh)]: 1. (Picked:) Is it Yeri? It seems too obvious, given how eager she obviously is. But she could be straight up trolling you. That seems like something she'd do. If it's her, you imagine you'll end up exhausted soon. She seems to have a LOT of energy to burn.

2. Is it Wendy? She's the one who organized this meetup after all. Maybe she'll ask you to come along as she drops the other members off at their gig. If she's the one, you can guess you'll have a very nice, sweet time. She's got those wifey vibes.

3. Is it Seulgi? She's been very quiet this whole time. She definitely took the time to dress to impress today. Maybe it's you she means to impress. If you're spending the day with her, you have no clue what to expect. You've got to watch out for the quiet ones...

~~~~~

You look underneath the table and see it is, in fact, Yeri who is stroking your leg with her foot. Her running shoes aren't exactly making it comfortable or sexy.

"I'm going to guess it's you."

"Sure is, babe." Yeri winks. Wendy and Seulgi both groan in unison. Yeri doesn't seem to mind them at all.

"So," Wendy says slowly, "you really meant that about having sex with us? I don't want to pressure you."

You look across the table and see Seulgi biting her lip, not in an intentionally sexy way, but maybe nervously?

"Yup. I'm not free literally all the time, so we might have to actually schedule it, which definitely feels weird, but I'm up for it."

Wendy grins. "Awesome! Thanks! Thanks? Thanks."

"But hey, to be totally clear, why me? You guys know you can have sex with each other, right?"

Seulgi pops in, "We have. It's just... we all want different things that others aren't comfortable with."

"Yeah, getting fucked softly by strapons is boooring," Yeri says. She glares at Wendy.

"H-hey! You know my hip--"

You're about to ask what they all want to do that's so radically different, or why they assume you're okay with all of it, but Wendy's phone alarm goes off.

"Crap. So, can we talk about this later? We have to get to our shoot."

"Totally, sure. Text me when you're off?"

Wendy and Seulgi are already starting to walk away. Yeri has made herself quite comfortable where she is though.

"I'll text you, yeah! Um, are you okay with babysitting that one for a bit?"

Yeri scrunches up her nose. "The fuck, bitch?!"

You laugh. "Yeah, why not?"

Wendy smiles and rushes out the door. Seulgi follows, but only after giving you a polite bow. "See you again soon!"

The busy life of a big three idol, you muse to yourself.

"Hmmm, seems we've got some time to kill, huh?" Yeri leans forward on the table, squeezing her tits through her bulky sweatshirt.

"Guess we do. I have one formal request to have sex with you and another to babysit you. Bit unusual."

Yeri groans. "Yeah fuck that. You realize I'm well into my twenties right? I want your cock, not a bedtime story."

You decide against telling her about the stories you swapped with SinB just a couple nights ago. "Couldn't put you to bed if I wanted to with that extra large mocha you've got there," you say instead.

“You could put me in a bed.”

“Snappy one. I like it.”

Yeri smirks and takes a sip of her coffee. “I don’t mean right now though. I’ve got something in mind already.”

“You mean what you were going to pay me to do?”

“Sure was, ho. Why? You still want the money?”

You sigh. “Well I’m really not in the business. So if you really want to spend something on me, maybe get me some breakfast? You ate mine.”

“You can eat me.”

After you give her a brief, unamused look, she relents. “Okay. Okay. What do you want? You can eat it on the way.”

“I see you like to make assumptions. And I’ll take a smoked salmon bagel.”

“I’m used to my assumptions being met. And I didn’t know they made those here.”

“Do you assume you’re going to get your way today? And they’re delicious.”

“Maybe I do assume that. I guess we’ll see. And I’ll have one too.”

Yeri hops off of her seat and goes back to the counter to put in your order. Thanks to the lack of a line or crowd, the bagels are ready by the time you’ve followed her. You open the bag.

“Four? Feeling hungry this morning?”

“Oh I’m starving for dick, but only one of those is for me. The others are for you. You’ll need the energy.”

“Question.” You stop, The Lounge’s front door half open in your hand. “Do you always speak so boldly and then follow it up immediately with something vague?”

She smirks and you watch as one of her hands slides around your waist and traces your butt before giving it a tight squeeze. She reaches past you with her other hand and pulls the door open the rest of the way so she can step outside, slowly twirling around you. “No,” she says, “Sometimes, I don’t speak.”

Smooth, you think.

The walk to wherever Yeri is taking you is a pleasant one. She takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. She walks in sync with you. She makes easy conversation about work, food, and ideal local vacation spots. She nibbles on her bagel slowly enough that she finishes right about when you finish all three of yours. You almost forget that less than an hour ago she was making lewd comments about hiring you for sex, and that she is currently taking you to a location where she intends to fuck you.

It’s not long before you reach a building that she pulls you into, swiping a key card to open the door. The inside isn’t particularly remarkable, and you don’t see any signs anywhere that would reveal the building’s purpose. Three flights of stairs going up and one more key card swipe through a door, and you find yourself in a small gym.

One wall is effectively a single giant mirror like a dance studio would have, and there’s a variety of equipment you recognize as being for pilates as well as weight training and a treadmill. The floor is ever so slightly spongy-soft, it’s well lit when she flips on the lights, there’s a large potted fern in one corner with a small stereo next to it, and it’s otherwise undecorated. It smells like sweat.

“Personal, private gym?” you ask.

“Personal, private gym,” Yeri says. She drops her purse and kicks off her shoes next to the door, motioning for you to do the same.

“Not that I’m complaining, but couldn’t we have used a room at The Lounge, or your place, or mine?”

“Maybe. But I’m comfortable here. And there aren’t any company bitches here to get on my case for getting our freak on.”

Yeri walks into the middle of the room and pulls her hoodie over her head. It turns out she was only wearing a purple sports bra underneath.

Although she is still fully dressed as far as modern societal standards are concerned, you find yourself staring at her incredibly sexy body as if it’s totally exposed. Her leggings are exactly as skin-tight as you were hoping, practically revealing her firm ass. If she’s even wearing anything underneath them, you can’t tell. But as she lifts her arms above her head to toss her hoodie behind her and to stretch, it’s her mostly bare back and the toned muscle running up and down either side of her spine that catches you off guard. You can’t take your eyes away. She looks at you in the mirror and catches you staring.

“I’m glad you like,” she says, putting one finger between her teeth in the corner of her mouth and giving you a sultry look you didn’t think she was capable of. She twists to look at you over her shoulder. “Your turn.”

You remove your jacket and pull your shirt off. While it’s over your eyes, you hear padding footsteps coming your way, followed by a body being pressed up against yours. By the time your shirt is totally off, her hands are sliding up your back. This is one seriously forward idol you’re dealing with.

“So here we are. I picked the location. What’s next?” Yeri asks, “I’ve got a naughty thought or two, but maybe you have an idea you want to surprise me with.”

Options for Part 2:

1. No surprise, nothing fancy. Just get naked and get started. 2. There must be a shower in this building if it contains gyms. Ask her to take you there and you can get her wet all over. 3. (Picked:) Yeri was literally going to hire you for this, and “naughty thoughts” sound fun. Ask her what those are all about.

~~~~~

“Naughty thoughts huh? Why don’t you tell me about those?”

Yeri grimaces and looks off to the side. “Uh...”

“Uh…” You look down at her, confused. “What? What.”

“I was, you know.”

You hesitate…

“No! I don’t know! What?!”

“Like, I was expecting you to just rip off my bra or pants and go to town, you know?”

“But you said you have naughty thoughts. Why wouldn’t I ask about those?”

“I don’t know! I was counting on you not asking about them!”

You rub your eyes. You’re about to ask why she would bother bringing up the option if she was going to make such a big deal out of it, but she speaks first.

“I want to get fucked while I’m working out.”

“That’s it?” you ask after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s not all I want to do.”

“Well, care to share with the rest of the class? Or are you too embarrassed about having really normal-sounding kinks?”

Yeri shoves you back and takes a few steps toward the pilates equipment. “Are we doing this or not?”

“I’m all for it.”

She grabs the sides of her bra and with no small amount of difficulty pulls it off over her head. You easily forget about the awkwardness as you watch her breasts squeeze out slowly and eventually drop the rest of the way.

Yeri's breasts live up to the hype. When she beckons you over to her (in the same way you would beckon for a dog, annoyingly), you realize your opportunity to touch them for yourself is at hand. Literally.

You grab her by the shoulders first though, spinning her around so she's facing the pilates bench and the mirror. You wrap your arms under hers to feel her tits from behind. They're more than your hands can take in a single grasp. But you're not in this for speed. You bend down to kiss her neck, which gets a satisfied growl from her.

"Bite me," she says. It's not a softly spoken statement, and it's right next to your ear thanks to your positioning, so you're stunned for about half a second.

You do as she demands, taking a small bit of her neck between your teeth and sucking. If she wants hickeys you won't argue.

You're rewarded with a smack on the top of the head. Confused with her behavior again, you pull away.

"I didn't say nibble. I said bite."

"Oh. Uh, sure."

"Like, draw blood."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah! Like, if you're gonna bite, it's gotta be hard! Really get your canine teeth in there, right? Just fucking give it to me."

You stare at her for a moment. "Let's, um, start with the exercise thing first, yeah?"

Seeming suddenly confident again, Yeri hops onto the pilates bench and flips herself upside-down using the bars. She stretches herself out into a position you imagine can't be easy to hold for long. "Sure, if you can reach me."

You squint at her for just a second. She's switching between embarrassment and confidence so fast you can't figure out what's really going on. But at least right now, she seems fine.

Standing up on the bench, you find you’re at nearly the perfect height to put your face between her legs. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do. You grab the waistband of her leggings and pull them down to her knees. Underneath, absolutely nothing. No underwear, no hair. Just a completely bare pussy and smooth ass tensed with the effort of holding her body weight in an upward arch.

It’s a tight fit getting your head between her legs, given that she doesn’t have a lot of space to spread them apart. The reward is worth the trouble.

You flatten your tongue against her pussy to give it a full, long lick. She responds with a long, breathy moan. And since she gives you no reason to stop, you do it again, and again, and again. Each time, Yeri shivers just a little bit, making it obvious how much she’s enjoying herself.

Hands on either side of her hips, just touching for the sake of touching and not holding her up, you close your eyes and focus on your work. Not work. You’re not getting paid for this. Stop thinking about that.

She’s got a mellow taste as far as you can tell. It’s got the tang you would expect, but it’s maybe a little musky. You don’t try to distract yourself, but trying to figure out how Yeri tastes the same way men’s cologne smells is really messing with your head.

It’s when her hips suddenly drop away from your hands that you realize she has been holding herself in place for several minutes. She’s breathing heavily and she doesn’t fall only because her leggings are caught on your shoulders. She doesn’t seem seriously exhausted or anything though. Maybe this was just the first rep.

“Tired?” you ask anyway.

“I also want to try pet play.”

You stare down at Yeri. You’re sure you heard the words that came out of her mouth correctly, but they weren’t the answer to your question. “So… hang on. Back up. What?”

“You know. Meow.” Holding herself up with one hand, she uses the other to make the classic neko paw.

You tilt your head and rub your temples. “Alright. Um, I think we should probably work out what’s really happening here. You gave me a lot to work with.”

Yeri hoists her legs back over your head and stands on the bench again, kicking her leggings off the rest of the way. “Yeah! What do you think? Those are my ideas!”

“They are varied.”

“Is that good or bad?” Suddenly Yeri looks embarrassed again.

“No! They’re good! I’m not here to kink shame you. I don’t know if I’m really into all of that, or if they can all be incorporated into a single session, but I’m totally up for some of it.”

Session? This isn’t an appointment, and this isn’t my job! you think, furiously. You’re suddenly worried if every minor reference to work or professionalism is going to sound like it’s connected to sex from now on.

Yeri smirks, “Oh, okay. That’s fair. Anything sounds good! What do you want to do… with me?” She punctuates the last two words by grabbing her tits and winking at you.

Deadline for this vote is 12/20 at 12:00 UTC! No guarantees on how fast Part 4 will come out, but work should slow down soon, and it’s not like I’ll be going anywhere for a holiday because of this virus, so you can probably expect Part 5 and maybe also another short over that weekend! Options for Part 3: 1. (Picked:) Workout sex sounds like it will wear you out, but getting sweaty with a partner has never been a problem before! 2. Pet play? What was that meow about?! Maybe you want her to play a cat, or you can convince her she'd be something else? 3. Oh fuck, right. Yeri likes vampires. Bite her. [Warning for blood stuff, though not super gory or anything Red Flavor joke]

~~~~~

“Tell me more about this workout sex,” you say. To avoid letting the mood die down any more than your confusion already might have you inch forward, one hand on Yeri’s breast, the other wrapping around the small of her back. You pull her in closer toward you and put your mouth to hers.

Yeri hums into your kiss. She takes a moment to enjoy it before she pulls back. “It’s exactly what it sounds like, like what I said.” She comes in for a couple more small kisses and continues, “I work out. While I do that, you fuck me.”

You bring her back into the kiss, keeping it chaste for now. At least, as chaste as you can get while you’re more than half naked and she’s completely naked and you’re discussing exactly how you’re about to bang.

“I can start over there and bench while I suck your cock.”

You moan your agreement into another kiss.

“Then I can do my squats on it while you take your turn benching.”

You moan your “Huh?” into another kiss.

“Then you can do your squats by pile driving me into the floor.”

So it seems she plans on you working out too.

“So? Are we going to do this?” Yeri holds you back.

You take a deep breath. Whatever higher power you believe in has brought you this far. You’re not going to let it down.

“Why don’t you get down there and find out?”

Yeri practically jumps across the room. She grabs a couple of dumbbells and immediately gets into bench press position.

When you walk over, ditching the rest of your clothes on the way, Yeri looks up at you and smirks. She wiggles the weights around and, in a sing-song voice, says, “Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb.”

You stand above her, unsure how to respond.

“Get it? Dumb Dumb? Dumbbells? The weights?”

“Uh, no?”

“What?! That’s like, a classic!”

“Is that one of yours?”

“Yes! You haven’t heard it?!”

“You just called your own song a classic.”

Yeri rolls her eyes. “Not classic as in old. As in-- I’m about to suck your dick, so laugh at my jokes.”

That makes you actually snort back a laugh. “Okay, I guess I get it now.”

She smiles and hangs her head off the edge of the bench. You make your way next to her head and she licks her lip at the sight of your dick at nearly her eye level.

“Just don’t go too hard okay? I’ve got a gag reflex.”

You crouch just enough so that your dick touches her lips, which she happily opens. The moment her tongue reaches out and touches you, you feel a bit weak in the knees. How you’re going to keep this up and also do real exercise, you have no idea.

Yeri cautiously starts pumping her weights up and down at her sides. You take the same slow pace with moving back and forth. After the mention of her gag reflex you don’t dare thrust for real, keeping it to an inch or so at a time. Yeri more than makes up for the lack of depth with her tongue though, twirling and curling it around randomly.

Thankfully there’s a bar across the bench that you can lean on to prevent a total collapse. Just beneath your head, you watch as Yeri’s chest and arms flex to push the weights up, then relax and spread out as she lowers them. The steady motion, the subtle definition of her body, and her heavy tits are a sight to behold, and so behold it all you do.

Yeri’s tongue sweeps across the bottom of your dick, and you feel a burning desire to be deeper inside of her. You decide to try your luck and push forward a bit farther. She doesn’t so much as lose the tempo in her lifting, so you go farther. Too much more and you’re sure you’re going to hurt her, but her legs are spread to either side of the bench, leaving something else open that you could probably get much deeper in.

You’re suddenly jolted back to awareness by the sound of weights slamming to the floor. Yeri grabs your hips and holds you tightly in place. You think she may have forgotten about the exercise after all with how intensely she’s sucking. But then, she pushes you away and gasps for air.

“That’s one set down!” She grins up at you and strokes your dick.

“Isn’t it bad etiquette to drop your weights like that?”

“Personal, private gym, remember? My gym, my rules.”

“Well not to break your rules, but I want to try something else in your next set.”

“Why? Didn’t you like that?”

“Oh I did, but that’s just the problem. You’ve got me worked up now, and I’m having a hard time holding back.”

Yeri gulps, and you see her whole body shiver. “I-I mean, I’ll try.” She picks her dumbbells off the floor and lays back again, sticking her tongue out and opening her mouth wide.

“I didn’t mean deepthroat! I just meant I wanted to fuck your pussy.”

You aren’t sure if Yeri’s sigh is one of disappointment or relief. “Ah, I see. Well by all means go for it!”

She scoots herself down the bench so her head isn’t hanging off and starts her next set. You walk around her slowly, just taking in the sight, admiring her again. She’s clearly used to the exercise, because her skin is just barely starting to show a few dots of sweat.

Once you’re between her legs, it’s a simple matter to crouch again just a little to maintain the correct height. You couldn’t see it from your previous angle, but Yeri is soaking wet. It’s only been a few minutes really, but already there’s a puddle underneath her. You mentally give yourself a pat on the back for contributing to that.

Yeri’s entrance is tight, but pushing into her is smooth sailing with how much natural lube she’s producing. Every time she lifts her weights, her muscles tense and she subtly clenches down around you. You might have thought this was a weird concept to begin with, but you’re definitely on board now. Not quite in time with her lifts, you thrust in and out. Looking down, you can see her toes curling. She’s clearly putting in a lot of effort not to squirm out of position.

“Seems like you’re having fun, huh?”

You don’t get an answer. You’re slightly annoyed that she seems to be ignoring you, but you realize she’s probably trying to count reps. But it would be fun if you could make her lose track…

You put your hands on either side of the bench and get a good grip, preparing to turn into a fucking machine.

Unfortunately, you’re the one who gets a surprise when Yeri drops her weights again. Her head shoots up to yours for a needy, open-mouthed kiss. Her damp body presses against yours.

“This is...” she says between the moments she has her tongue in your mouth, “so much better… than trying it… with a dildo!”

You try to push Yeri away so you can get a word in, but her arms and legs are both clamped around you. You give in and lower her down so she’s on her back again, putting you right where you need to be so you can roll your hips.

Yeri squeals and her grip on you gets even tighter. “More!” she shouts when she pulls away for a half a second.

You strain to get your hands under her arms and break out of her grasp. Her nails rake across your back quite painfully as you do, but you manage to pin her arms to her sides. She glares up at you, biting her lip and giggling.

“More?” she asks this time.

“Don’t you have one more set to do? Isn’t three sets a thing?”

Yeri scowls. “I changed my mind. It’s your turn to bench. I need to do my squats right now.”

You roll your hips again. You watch, amused, as Yeri’s fingers clench at the air over and over again. You’re a little worried about what might happen when you let her go, considering she seemed to have some kind of blood fetish. But then again, she might just not be trying all that hard to get away. She’s the one with a fairly athletic career and a workout plan after all.

Even so, you can’t help but tease her with another roll of your hips. You have difficulty finding your own words with how good she feels, tight around your cock. “It was your idea to get fucked while you worked out. I’m just holding you to your word, you know.”

A sly smile curls across Yeri’s face, though it trembles when you grind into her again. “I’m keeping my word! I normally only do two sets at a time!”

“I’m not so sure I believe that.” Her legs let up a bit, so you use the leeway to get in a short thrust.

“You calling me a liar?”

“Of course not. Why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t call me a liar you get to pick what hole I fuck you with while you’re benching.”

She makes a valid argument.

Deadline for this vote will be 12/26 at 6:00 UTC (just in case some of you will be too busy the day before with holiday stuff) Options for Part 4: 1. No complaints from you if she continues with her pussy! 2. Then again, you’ve got a thing for anal, and she’s offering. 3. She could give you a blowjob. It seems like she wants the practice. 4. (Picked:) But also… Yeri is the first person in one of these stories with big enough boobs for a titfuck.

~~~~~

“Well since you’re definitely done with your sets, and since you’re not lying, you wouldn’t mind titfucking me?”

A few quiet moments go by. Yeri puts a hand on her chin, looking down between your bodies, then to her boobs, then at the dumbells on either side of her. She reaches down to grab the weights again.

“There’s lube in my bag. Grab that first.”

You smile and pull out of her pussy, which makes both of you take a sharp breath at the same time. “Doing more benches huh?”

“Well obviously. This is workout sex. I can’t give you a tit job while I’m squatting, so the best solution is for me to focus extra hard on my arms - which is definitely more than I normally do - so you can stand over me.”

Her bluff is pretty obvious, but it’s amusing, and you’re still getting what you asked for so you’re not going to push your luck by calling her out. This is something you’ve been trying to convince Yerin to try for a while, but she’s brushed it off every time. So if you aren’t getting a boob job here, you’re not sure when or even if you’ll have the chance again.

The lube you find in Yeri’s bag is vanilla scented. While you take a moment to enjoy the smell, Yeri lies down and starts another set with her six kilo weights.

You move to stand over her chest and enjoy watching her muscles work again from a different angle. This time you watch her breasts in particular, putting a hand down to lightly cup one and brush your thumb over her nipple. Much like before, Yeri’s focus on her workout is uncanny. You can’t get her to break, so you decide to help yourself.

You pour a generous amount of the lube into Yeri’s cleavage, smearing it all over. Your dick is still wet from her pussy, but this stuff will certainly last longer. The pleasant smell and the sight of her wet breasts turn on your instincts again. You lower yourself until your dick is resting on her, and you squeeze her tits together.

It’s not nearly as tight as anything else you’ve experienced today, of course, but it’s no less of an incredible feeling. When you start to move back and forth is when you realize how heavenly it is, even if it involves some extra effort. As you slide through Yeri’s cleavage, you notice the tiniest glance down from her. Is she losing her focus?

You smirk and reposition your hands a bit so you can casually rub her nipples between your fingers. Again, a small glance down. This time, it’s accompanied by the corners of her lips moving up.

“If you’re enjoying this already, wait until your hands are free to help out.”

“Ssshut up.”

Her arms tremble for a second. It would make sense if she’s getting distracted by the fact that she’s working out. But she hasn’t done that much, has she? Six kilos isn’t too crazy for an athletic idol like herself. You take a look over to the side again when her arms come all the way up.

There’s a mostly worn off line right before the six. She’s lifting nearly triple what you thought she was. Suddenly, you find yourself concerned with where they might land if she drops them again, given where your feet are, and you resolve to not distract her anymore.

That doesn’t mean you’re going to stop the titfucking of course.

You shift your feet back a little and have to lean forward, but you manage to get back into rhythm quickly. You slide in time with her lifting. The next time you look at her face, Yeri’s eyes are screwed shut and she’s biting her lip.

You aren’t able to contain a groan, and her eyes snap open and look into yours. She gives you a smile and after one last pump of her weights, she tosses them (thankfully) to the sides. Her hands clasp over the top of yours. Her breaths are labored, but she speaks through them just fine.

“I’m helping now. What am I waiting for?”

You pull one of your hands from under hers. It takes you no time at all to find her clit. Her knees come up to trap your arm there, as if you needed the additional encouragement. You circle it slowly with your fingers.

“Oh, I see now.” Yeri’s voice is quiet and her mouth quivers. She looks down at your cockhead poking out of her cleavage with hunger in her eyes.

You take your other hand away from hers, but only so you can put it back on top, where you guide her into kneading her breasts around your dick. She quickly picks up on the hint and squeezes down. She even takes the initiative and lifts her head to try to lick you as you thrust.

Unfortunately, she can’t quite reach, but you’re not going to let her effort go to waste. You hover your now free hand next to her pouty lips. You quickly go back in your mind to when she was very interested in biting, but you’ve already sealed your fate, and her mouth is wrapped around two of your fingers.

Something about watching her dutifully crushing her tits against your thrusting dick and sweetly sucking on your fingers with her eyes closed sets you off. You barely have the time to say, “I’m cumming.”

In that moment, Yeri’s eyes reopen and catch yours. She makes no move to change what she’s doing. So with one last thrust, you groan in ecstasy and orgasm.

Your cum first hits the bottom of her chin, then lands on her neck, then seeps out onto her chest, directed into different directions by her collarbone. She hardly reacts where you can see it, keeping her eyes locked onto yours and wrapping her tongue around your middle finger.

On the other hand, literally, her legs wrap around your arm and roughly pull your hand until it’s fully connected with her pussy. Your brain is still in a mid-orgasm haze, but it’s easy enough to realize what you’re supposed to be doing. You oblige, dipping two fingers inside her. That gets a happy hum out of Yeri, which you feel directly vibrating up your hand.

After you blink the stars out of your eyes, you look down and see that Yeri is scooping at your cum to bring it to her mouth. She sucks it in without letting go of your fingers. You would protest at the awkwardness of feeling your semen being swirled around your knuckles, but the greediness she displays is way too sexually charged for you to care about things like that anymore.

Eventually, she vacuums all of it down and off your hand, swallows, and releases you. She gives you an expectant look, eyebrows raised and mischievous smile plastered across her face.

You continue to finger her, but her eyes don’t move from yours. “Um. Wow, damn,” you say, not sure what else she wants.

Yeri’s eyebrows go higher. “You’re not going to mention…”

“Your amazing body? Or how hot it is when you’re sweating like that?”

Her smile turns into an absolute shit-eating grin. “Protein shakes are good after exercise!”

You bite your cheek to keep from… laughing? An exasperated sigh? You’re not sure, with how terrible and cliché of a line that would have been.

“Yup. Definitely something like that.”

Yeri giggles and pushes you back so she can sit up. She takes the hand you were fingering her with now. “So you still up for more? Joy says Yerin says you can usually go more than once.”

She starts to lick her juices off of your hand. You can’t help but admire her weird pervertedness.

Deadline for the Part 5 vote will be 1/1 at 12:00 UTC (because I am guaranteed not to work that day!) Options for Part 5: 1. Of course you’re still up for more, as long as you don’t have to deal with more of this workout bullshit! 2. (Picked:) You’ll do more, but only after she does the squats she said she was going to do. She doesn’t get to half ass her workout just because you’re here! 3. Nope. You’re out of here. See you around, sloot! 4. Maybe. But you'd actually like to maybe get to know Yeri a little first? You kind of jumped into this real fast.

~~~~~

“What? You’re already done with your workout? You’ve barely done anything though.”

Yeri gives you a dirty look. “I’d normally do more, duh. But you’re here right now.”

“Yeah, to fuck you while you work out.”

“Yeah, which you did.”

“Did you cum?”

“No, but that’s fine. I got what I wanted.”

“Do you want to?”

Yeri looks over at the squatting rack, chewing her lip. “I wouldn’t mind, but it’s hard to make me cum. And it would be dangerous while I’ve got something really heavy on top of me.”

“Challenge accepted then.”

She raises her eyebrows at you.

“You go hard on the rest of your workout and I’ll do the best I can to make you cum once you’re done.”

Yeri doesn’t say anything. She walks over to the rack though, and leans back against it. She looks you up and down, straight-faced.

“If you don’t cum, it’s not like you’re not getting your money’s worth.”

She still says nothing, her eyes landing on your dick.

“Because you’re not paying me for this. Because I’m not a prostitute…” You shrug, unsure of how to proceed when you’re being stared down naked.

“Let’s do it. I want to see if you can do it.”

“If I can? Well, what is it that makes it so hard to make you cum?”

Yeri bends over to grab some weights to put on the bar. “I dunno. If I knew, I wouldn’t have the problem.”

“You nervous?”

“It’s not like I haven’t had sex before.”

“Uncomfortable maybe?”

“No, I’m fine. A bit restless, but who isn’t?” Yeri stands under the bar, adjusting herself so her back is comfortably in the curve.

“I know a couple other people like that. We’ll do a little bit of experimenting. Maybe it will work, maybe it won’t.”

“Good enough for me.”

“Good enough huh?”

“Yup.”

“Sounds unenthusiastic. You sure you’re up for it?”

“I asked you for another round, remember? I just don’t want you getting your hopes up.”

You laugh. “Everything I could have hoped for is standing in front of me nude and about to do squats.”

Yeri chuckles and picks the bar off the rack. “Greasy.”

You just smile and watch as she does the first squat. It looks effortless. You don’t know enough about form to judge it, but it seems like it’s been practiced for quite some time. It’s smooth on the way down, and smooth on the way up. Graceful, even.

The grace of the action is slightly undercut by the fact that she is of course still naked, a little sweaty, and her chest is completely covered in lube. But that makes it no less attractive to you.

As she does more, you walk around, getting a good view from every angle. The mirror wall ensures that if she wants to, she can see you as well. But she seems focused again, staring herself in the eye.

Her breaths are labored. She inhales deeply as she goes down and exhales loudly as she comes up. Her skin starts to glisten all over as her effort comes out in her sweat. You reach out to touch her, but you suddenly get an idea and step back. Shortly after, she sets the bar back on the rack with a heavy sigh.

“What’s up? You can touch. It’s encouraged.”

You go back to her purse and pull out a water bottle you had seen earlier. “I’m going to hold off on touching you for a minute. I like this. I’m changing the plan. I’m not touching you until I can see how much effort you’re putting into this.”

A smirk creeps up one side of Yeri’s mouth. “You’re on,” she says. She catches the water bottle when you toss to her and takes a swig from it. Then she puts another five kilogram weight on either side of the bar.

As she gets into the next set, you move next to her and sit down on the floor. “Look at these hard-working legs,” you say. She didn’t respond the last time you talked to her, but she can still hear you… you assume. This is mostly just you saying your thoughts out loud, but you hope she’s paying attention.

“Taking on all of this to maintain the look of a perfect idol, but healthy. Damn, I would kill for your dedication.”

Glancing at the mirror you see another tiny smile on Yeri’s face.

“What would you say the ratio is? Your effort and practice versus your natural talent. What amount of each is it that makes your performances look so easy? Because watching you right now it has to be at least sixty percent or more in favor of the exercise.”

You reach out again like you’re going to touch her as she comes down, but you keep your hand just far enough away.

“And not just what you do, but the way this body of yours looks. If I wasn’t watching you sculpt it right now, I’d have figured it was sculpted by some Greek god. Belongs in a fucking art museum if you ask me.”

Your hand hovers extremely close to Yeri’s leg. You can actually feel the heat of her body, way above what you’d normally feel coming off a person. It’s like she’s a human furnace. And the amount of sweat on her is very noticeable now.

The bar catches on the rack again and Yeri bends over to grab the water again, drinking a few more swallows of it this time. “Museum my ass,” she says through a breathy laugh.

“That’s what I’m saying! One more set, right?”

Yeri stretches her arms, prompting you to wonder why she didn’t stretch before the workout. Your narrator says you shouldn’t think about it because it’s really hard to remember all of those kinds of details, and that’s not the point of word porn. But yes, you should be careful and stretch before working out.

“That’s right. I hope you’re ready to go again because I’m seriously wanting more.”

“Absolutely,” you say. You stand up and run a hand over Yeri’s butt and up her back, pressing roughly. “I don’t think I’ve even gone soft once since I had this scene in front of me.”

Yeri groans and rolls her shoulders as you touch them. “I can stop now, you know. I could go for the fucking right now.”

“I know, I know. But you’re not done yet. And I can’t believe how much I’m enjoying watching this.” You take your hand away and look Yeri in the eye via the mirror wall. “Hell, I might just have to convince you to do more.”

Without another word, Yeri gets underneath the bar again and picks it up. “If you’re so eager to see more, then…” She cuts herself off and dips into another squat.

Your eyes trace her from the floor up as you circle around. Yeri's thighs tremble from the weight. Her ass spreads from the movement. Her chest heaves from her breaths. Her lips part in just a way that you consider telling her to drop the bar so you can kiss her, but you're committed to watching her finish.

Rather than tempt yourself with the sight of her lips, you look up at her eyes. But you quickly regret it, as she looks back at yours. Her normally bright, mischievous eyes turn into black holes that you can't escape from. You feel a drop of your own sweat curl its way down your cheek.

“Holy shit, Yeri. I can’t wait to fuck you again, but at the same time, seeing this is too incredible to stop.”

Yeri is the one who breaks the gaze first, scrunching up her eyes. You look down again to see the trembling in her legs has gotten pretty bad.

"This is more weight than you usually use, huh?"

"Y-yup."

"How many left?"

"Three."

"Five."

"What the fu--"

You interrupt her with a kiss, since she's fully upright. The heat of the fire inside her drafts into your mouth. You don't want to stop, but you manage to pull away. "Just do five."

She looks up at you, her mouth gaped open. "Kay,"

As Yeri dips down, you walk around her again. Behind her, you put your hands out over her shoulders to spot her when she's back at your height. "Four more."

Yeri glances at you in the mirror, but quickly shuts her eyes again and goes down. You follow to make sure she's safe, but keep your hands off the bar.

Back at the top again, you continue the countdown. "Three."

Yeri doesn’t open her eyes this time. You just follow her down again, lightly resting your wrists against her shoulders to make sure she knows you're there. Her whole body is quivering as she rises again.

She gasps loudly when she's upright. "Keep breathing," you remind her, "Only two more."

"Shit," is the one word she gets out before she goes again. There's a moment when she reaches the bottom that she hesitates, and you fear she's going to drop the bar. You brace your arms, but Yeri clearly isn't one to disappoint. She rises again, shaking like a leaf.

You feel a little bad when she's all the way up again, as she is clearly already beyond what she's comfortable with. Even so, you're confident you can keep her from hurting herself, so you lean forward next to her ear and say very softly, "Just one more."

It seems she's got nothing more to say, because she immediately goes down for the last squat. You nearly lose your balance following her this time.

She squirms as she starts to lift herself up for the last time. The sweat practically pours off of her.

Her form must be a little off too, because the bar knocks against one of the middle rungs on the rack. She jerks back. A struggled croak comes out of her throat, and you can see her face screwed up in the mirror, with the tiniest bit of black eyeliner running down one side of her face. You're just about to grab the bar and push it up the rest of the way, but you barely have the time to make the move when she huffs and practically jumps up the rest of the way.

The bar lands on the rack safely, but Yeri's knees buckle and she starts to collapse forward. Thankfully with how close you are, you're able to catch her almost immediately, and avoid smacking your head on the bar too.

Her skin, even through her sweat, is practically hot enough to burn your hands. You help her lay down on her back and grab her water bottle, opening it and holding it ready.

Despite your concern, you're feeling extremely turned on. Her beautiful chest rises and falls rapidly. Her whole body absolutely shines. And on her face, closed eyes and a satisfied smile.

You put the water bottle to her lips and tilt so just a little trickles into her mouth. "Stay hydrated," you say simply. Yeri complies and gulps down the stream of water.

When you take away the half empty bottle, Yeri groans and uses her arm to roll herself onto her stomach. "Fuck me already."

That's a request you're happy to fulfill. You position yourself over her and spread her ass apart with your thumbs. Your dick is still covered in lube from earlier, and she's pretty slippery right now too…

A pleased hum from Yeri is the last encouragement you need, and you slide into her ass much more easily than you would have expected. Yeri's moan is muffled by the floor.

"So I keep going, eh?"

"Mmmfffmm."

You lift her pelvis up a bit so you can get a hand underneath and on her clit like before. You rub slowly, to match the slow thrusting into her ass. She doesn't move at all, but her moans keep coming. Much like earlier, her pussy is absolutely drenching your hand, so you assume you're doing something right.

Now that you're in full contact with her body, you can feel her heat again. It's hot enough to be uncomfortable, but considering what you just convinced her to do, you don't think your comfort is worth stopping for.

"How do you feel?" you ask.

Yeri lifts her head enough to respond coherently. "My legs fucking hurt."

You chuckle. "Yeah, sorry about that. You just looked so good doing that. Do you need some time to cool do--"

"Don't you dare get off of me."

"Woah! Noted. Nice."

Yeri rests her head on her arms. "The burn is worth it."

"Good to hear. I enjoyed it too."

"Oh? You didn't do much though. After this," she takes an extra deep breath. Whether it's because of something you did or her exhaustion you're not sure. "After this, you can do an actual workout you know. I think it's only fair if you take a turn, right?"

Ummm… is it fair?

Literally only even putting this in because this part was starting to get too long and I need to try to keep them short for my own sanity LOL *dies inside*. So the deadline for Part 6 will be Jan. 4th at 12:00 UTC. Options for Part 6: 1. (Picked:) Of course! You’ve been looking forward to your chance this whole time. You’ll happily get your lift on! Save you a trip to your gym! 2. Sure, if you have to. But maybe it’s something you can discuss when you’re not in the middle of this? 3. You don’t want to work out. That wasn’t exactly what you had planned when you came in, but you’re not going to say that now. 4. No way. You’re here to fuck Yeri. If you’re going to work out, you’ll do it on your own time!

~~~~~

In the time it takes you to pull almost all of the way out and slide all the way back in, you’ve made a decision. “Yeah, fuck it. Maybe you can give me a solid tip or two. I could probably use the exercise anyway.”

“I don’t know. Feels like you’re fine to me, but I’m happy to help if I can.”

“Aw, how flattering. And to think I considered saying no.”

Yeri fidgets a little bit. “That would have been okay. Either way, I don’t want you to stop what you’re doing now.”

“That’s good. Because I don’t want to.”

“But don’t forget. It’s okay if I don’t cum.”

“You know, that’s alright. I’m just going to make this as pleasurable for you as I can while I have you underneath me. Let’s not worry about the orgasm right now.”

Yeri holds her head up long enough to look at you in the mirror and say, “Oh my, you caught on. Thank you. But about the orgasm… I do like the idea of your cum in my ass.”

You’re not going to bother arguing against that. If that’s what she wants, you’re happy to provide.

You give Yeri’s ass a few more long, slow, languid thrusts. All the while, you keep a steady pace on her clit.

For as tired as she must be, Yeri doesn’t leave all of the work to you. She grinds her hips in tiny circles and clenches down on her pelvis. She must be doing some kind of exercise for that too, because you know for a fact both Eunha and Yerin have never been able to do that quite as effectively as Yeri is now (though you do feel a sense of deja vu and the name Seungyeon briefly pops into your head). You have to pause each time she does it, and you’re not sure if you’re annoyed by it or if it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever experienced.

At the end of an extra long stroke, Yeri reaches behind herself and lays her wrist on the back of your neck, pulling you down so your mouth is next to her ear. You take it as a hint, so you nibble and kiss around the outer edge.

Yeri giggles in a low tone. Her fingers stretch their way into your hair and lightly scratch back and forth.

The sensual tone of the moment overtakes your sensibilities for just a second. Just long enough for you to back up and drive in with one powerful thrust. You hear Yeri’s breath catch in her mouth and you bite down where her shoulder meets her neck, just above and behind her collarbone.

It wasn’t your intention to bite especially hard, but you were a little caught up. Yeri’s caught breath turns into the very first bit of a scream before it catches once again. Her fingers spasm on the back of your head, and every other part of her body that’s in contact with yours tenses up.

You also don’t intend to stop. You don’t quite pound into her the same way, but you do move faster than you were moving before. You change your angle to be more vertical, and you manage to get a couple of fingers around Yeri’s clit.

“Oh god,” Yeri manages to say.

Her ass clenches down on your cock painfully hard. Her whole body freezes up, and the hand on your head feels like it’s stuck. You’re just able to keep thrusting. It seems that’s exactly what you needed to do, too.

Yeri screams out incoherently. You’re a little thankful that she’s facing away from you and into the floor, because you feel like you might have lost your eardrums otherwise. Even as it is, your ears hurt.

Her hand falls away and pats the floor. Her voice is much weaker now. “I came… I came,” she mutters.

You cock an eyebrow up. It wasn’t as hard to make that happen as you were led to believe, especially for anal sex. Fully hilted in, you grind your hips around. “That was easy.”

“Shut uuup,” her voice sounds hoarse. You look to the side to make sure the water didn’t get knocked over at any point, because you get the feeling she’ll need it. “It doesn’t usually happen… like that.”

“What do you think was different?”

“I don’t know… the clit stuff maybe?”

“You don’t get your clit played with often?”

“No, I… I said shut up! Can you… let me up?”

You hold back a laugh and do as she asks. Untangling yourself is slightly difficult with her dead weight on your arm, but you help out by pulling her over onto her back and handing her the water bottle.

Looking down at your hand now that it’s free, you see it’s completely soaked. You must not have noticed how wet she was getting with all of the heat and being distracted by the intense fucking. And right where she was just lying down, there’s practically a lake. You’re not sure where her sweat ends and where her sexual fluid begins (but you have a pretty good idea).

Yeri drags herself up into a sitting position against the squatting rack and finishes off the rest of the water. “Well now my legs and my ass are going to be sore for days. Good thing I’m only MCing stuff I can sit down for.”

“Are you going to be okay with that? After that scream, your voice is a little bit…”

“Yeah, I’ll just tell them I’ve got a little cold. They’ll buy anything.”

The two of you smirk at each other.

“God damn though, that was good. Is it weird to say thanks for that?”

You chuckle. “Nah. And you’re welcome. Will you need more water?”

“I’m dehydrated as fuck now, so yes. But there’s a vending machine right down the hall. But this was enough to hold me over for a minute. What are you looking to do?”

Yeri gestures around the room. There’s quite a bit of equipment you could try out.

This will be another short vote period! Voting will close on 1/6 at 12:00 UTC. Options for Part 7: 1. The bench is free. That’s pretty basic stuff, and probably where you’re most confident in showing off. 2. She’s got a leg press machine so you can destroy your legs like Yeri just did. Actually that would have been very convenient earlier… 3. (Picked:) Try your hand (and the rest of your body) at pilates! You don’t know what to do, but you’re sure to get a laugh! 4. You lied! You’re out of here! HA!

~~~~~

You point up at the pilates setup and Yeri laughs.

"Yeah! This will be great! You're totally the graceful type."

You're not sure if that's sarcasm you detect in her voice, but you shrug it off. Her laugh is what you wanted to hear and you're already successful in that.

"Oh of course," you say with a very false confidence, "You know they call me the pilates master? Because they do."

You step over and lift yourself onto the device. You grab a hold of it the same way Yeri did before. At least, you’re close. You're not exactly sure.

Very carefully, you step your way up the bars and find yourself horizontal. Then you go further and completely lose your sense of direction, though you think you might be upside down. The blood rushes to your ears but you still hear the sound of Yeri giggling across the room.

“You weren’t kidding. That’s a super advanced move.”

“Yup. I invented it,” you say, pretending to be sure of yourself despite the disorientation, “I call this move the Reverse Crab with Lion Splash. It’s really good for your kneecaps.”

Looking up, or down, or sideways, one of those directions, you see an upside down Yeri covering her mouth to attempt to hold in her snickering.

You complete your sort-of backflip, so that you’re facing the padded table below you, your knees caught on the middle bar. You can feel your hamstrings, back, and shoulders straining to keep from falling right then and there.

Yeri’s barely contained laughter bursts out. You didn’t think it was that funny, but she’s an odd person, so you’re not surprised. Until, that is, she says, “You’re just freeballing up there with those gymnastics huh?”

It hits you that the sight of your lubed up and mostly softened dick flopping around as you awkwardly twist your way around the bars probably is fairly humorous. And a bit embarrassing to match. You suddenly feel a little bit self-conscious. And yet, you manage one last retort, “Uh yeah. Haven’t you heard of penilates?”

Yeri snorts and pats the floor. “You’re funny, you know that? I like it. Get back down here and I’ll show you how to do some basics if you really want to do pilates.”

Well, as long as she claims you’re funny.

You maneuver yourself out of the bars and drop off the rack. “Alright coach! What do I do?”

“First, come over here and lay down on your stomach. Put your hands to the sides like you’re going to do a pushup, but like, right under your shoulders.”

The lightly padded floor makes the action relatively comfortable. Yeri rolls on her hips so that she’s able to put a hand on the small of your back. A strangely comfortable chill runs up your spine at the feeling.

“Now push yourself up with your arms, but make sure your legs stay attached to the floor.”

You easily follow her instructions.

“Good!” she says cheerfully. She lifts your chin up, putting more of a stretching sensation on your chest. “Make sure you’re looking straight forward. This is called a Swan. It’s not a big deal, but it helps you with stretching out your core.”

“Yeah, I feel that for sure. I was expecting something a little more intense.”

“Most people are. Pilates is pretty easy though. Mostly.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the hard stuff?”

“Calm it down! We’ll get there. Probably not today though.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Because I’d like to do this with you and I can barely feel my legs.”

“Wow, I’m that good of a fuck?”

Yeri runs her hand over your butt. “Yup. It was all you and your sexual prowess and had nothing to do with anything else that happened since we got here.”

The two of you share a chuckle.

“So how long do I hold this?”

“About now would be good. For you, I’d say… do that for about thirty seconds at a time. And three times of course.”

“What if I normally only do two sets?” you ask as you lay yourself back on the floor.

She lightly smacks your ass. “Hey! What did we agree on about not calling me a liar!”

“Oh, sorry. I would never call you out for lying.”

“That’s… pretty much right. Now, up up!”

Once in your second Swan, you have a thought. “Hey, old reference at this point, but I’ve got a question about what you were talking about in The Lounge.”

“Shoot.”

“I asked why the three of you don’t just have sex with each other, and Seulgi said it was about wanting different things and being uncomfortable with it. So uh, have you tried to bite them before?”

“Oh god. Yeah, I tried that once or twice. Real good reactions out of all four of them.”

“Four?”

“Yup. Well, five. All five of us have tried having sex with each other. Still do sometimes, if we’re feeling desperate.”

“But you’re not into it?”

“Basically. Seulgi is in mad love with Wendy but she’s scared to admit it. Wendy is obsessed with Joy, but Joy is trying to convince herself that she’s straight. Irene and Wendy are both only interested in soft, nice sex, but they both want to be penetrated and can’t seem to get their act together with a double ended dildo. Seulgi wants to be a domme, but ever since Wendy was nearly murdered, she has to go easy on her hips. I’m totally into being dommed, but Seulgi is a wimp and when I talk back to her she gets all nervous and shit.”

You assume thirty seconds have passed, so you lower yourself to the floor again. You knew you would get some kind of explanation when you asked, but you weren’t expecting so much information. You think you may have already forgotten some of it.

Yeri keeps rambling, “Irene used to fuck Seulgi all the time, but during their sub unit promotions they got really busy with each other and I think they just kind of lost the mood, you know? Plus, now that Seulgi wants to explore her rougher side, Irene’s just not into it. Joy used to be the perfect fuck buddy for everybody because she was so good at accommodating everyone and enjoying it. Oh actually, she even did the pet play thing with me once! No clue what we were thinking though. I tried to be a puppy, but then I made a joke about Haetnim and that totally shut the whole thing down. And I’m pretty sure that it isn’t a healthy thing for Wendy, because of how hard she’s crushing for a quote unquote straight girl. But yeah, that’s the point with Joy. She’s claiming that she’s totally straight and started dating Cheungae, but I don’t know how long that’s going to-- Oh no, stay on your stomach.”

You had started to roll over after finishing your third Swan, but Yeri holds you back by your shoulder. “Next I’ll have you do a T.”

“A T? Like the letter T?”

“Exactly.”

“Is it like this?” You stick your arms straight out to either side and point your feet straight down, keeping your face on the floor.

Yeri laughs. “Basically, yes, but now pick your head, chest, arms, and legs up as far as you can, looking forward. Hold that for five seconds, five times.”

This move in particular is actually a bit harder, as it sounds like the only part of you meant to stay on the floor is your stomach.

“Sorry by the way. I rant on like a gossipy bitch sometimes. Was that too much information?”

The voting deadline for Part 8 will be 1/13 at 12:00 UTC! Options for Part 8 [IMPORTANT]: 1. “Well, it was maybe a bit much.” You can’t blame her for oversharing, but it’s no big deal. She seemed extremely eager to bring all that up, after all. 2. (Picked:) “Nope! In fact, tell me more!” Should you know all of this? No. Do you want to know more? Absolutely yes. 3. “Yeah, you really shouldn’t say so much.” It was pretty rude of her to say all of that stuff about her members’ personal relationships. Your question was much simpler than that.

~~~~~

"Nope! In fact, tell me more!"

Yeri chuckles. "Just as long as you don't spill any of what I tell you, alright? We could both get in some real trouble."

That's how secrets always work, right? You can keep the secrets and the non-secrets separate and never tell anyone anything that would be a problem, right? Yeah, no problem.

Right?

"Well, I don't think Joy's relationship is going to last much longer. She is trying really hard, but the strain is going to get to her. And one of our members is absolutely going to fuck her soon and restore the balance."

You snort, forcing you to put your hands and legs down. "Restore the balance? What is this, an epic fantasy novel?"

"You know what I mean! She's the perfect fucker or fuck toy for every member, and in the past, she's loved that. She told us so herself. But we've been together for years, so we know when she's not alright. About a month after she started dating Cheungae, she said she couldn't have sex anymore. And it's just been downhill from there. They're fucking each other, but she has said more than once that she misses fucking other people too."

"The things people do for the sake of relationships."

"Yeah, it's cute, but…" Yeri grips your ass cheek as you come out of your last T. "You know how freeing it is to not be in one."

You sigh, thinking for a second about something SinB told you. "Yup… but hey, has Joy talked to this guy about an open relationship? Or like some other kind of arrangement? Just taking a wild guess here, but I'd imagine any guy would die for a threesome with Joy and you."

"I offered. I heard from Wheein that Cheungae's got a dick the size of the DMZ, so I'm all for giving that a spin. Joy rejected the idea though."

"Damn, why?"

"Well Cheungae isn't the problem. Joy is. I don't know if it's selfishness or if she is just trying way too hard to make a normal relationship work, but she doesn't want to share, herself or her man."

"That sucks. I'm sorry."

"Ah, it's okay. Like I said, I don't think it'll last much longer. And as far as I'm concerned, I've got myself a solid replacement!"

"I'm not a commodity!"

"Sure, ho, sure." Yeri giggles and slaps your butt.

You reach between her legs and push a couple of fingers into her pussy. "Sounds like you're trying to get me mad."

"Why would I do that? You… degenerate sack of shit who can't even fuck the right hole?"

Suddenly, you hear the sound of Yeri's phone going off. It's Wendy's voice. "Are you ready for this? Zimzalabim!"

Yeri scowls. "Hurry up and pound my twat into the core of the planet."

You hold in a laugh and push Yeri onto her back and climb on top of her. Your sweat mixes with hers as you press your bodies together. She’s not burning hot like before, but she’s still pretty warm, and there’s certainly fire in her eyes as she pulls you to her lips--

“Are you ready for this? Zimzalabim!”

Yeri’s tongue invades your mouth forcefully. Your practiced cock finds its way into her with no trouble at all. There’s no hesitation from either one of you. She pulls you into her, and you--

“Are you ready for this? Zimzala-- Yeri! I’m calling you on the important line! Why aren’t you picking up?”

That doesn’t sound like a ringtone anymore. You pull away from Yeri’s kiss, but she suddenly sticks a finger against your cheek. “Don’t you dare stop. I don’t want to feel my legs.”

“Didn’t that already happen?” you ask, with no small amount of snark.

“Yeri? Are you still? Oh god. I’m sorry--” Static crackles through the speaker for a moment. “This must be really awkward for you.”

“Oh don’t mind me,” you say, “I’m just doing my job, apparently.” You back up just a bit and start thrusting hard and fast. Yeri’s breath gets pushed out of her with the force of the first one, but she quickly adjusts and matches your rhythm.

There’s a pause from Wendy. “O-okay. That’s good. I mean, wait! No! Yeri! Irene is on her way to pick you up to take you to the studio!”

“God- dammit- Wendy-” Yeri is having difficulty speaking, only managing to get a word or so out for each time you slam into her. “He’s so- fucking- good- Tell- her- to- wait!”

You could swear that you can hear Wendy blushing through the phone. “We can’t! You’ve got to record…”

“He doesn’t- care- about- spoilers!”

“I mean, I kind of do… How did the call start if we’re over here?”

“I had to install an app on her phone to automatically answer the call-- I mean, you’ve got to hurry and pack up! Irene is going to be there any second!”

Yeri whines in staccato, and is about to say something but is interrupted. And you’re suddenly forced to stop fucking her by a voice that chills your spine like being lost in a blizzard.

“Wendy’s right, Yeri. We’ve got to go.”

Looking to the side, you and Yeri both see Irene standing in the wide-open doorway. The lack of expression on her face is unnerving in a way you can’t accurately describe.

“Come on Irene, please! We can just record later! Just give us five more minutes!”

You feel like you could comment on the fact that Yeri sounds like she’s complaining to her mother to stay in bed, but Irene lifts her eyebrows a few millimeters and your motivation to make a joke is suddenly gone.

“Uuugh!” Yeri reluctantly, slowly, pushes you to the side.

Well, seems like that’s over with. But maybe you can convince Irene to let it not be over with… Or not. Hard to say.

The voting deadline for Part 9 will be 1/17 at 12:00 UTC! Options for Part 9: 1. Irene doesn’t scare you! Tell her you’re not done with Yeri yet! SM can wait for her! 2. Okay, Irene scares you. You should apologize and see yourself out of here. 3. (Picked:) Eh. No big deal. Yeri said that Irene is basically just the same as the other RV members.

~~~~~

You lean back against one of the vertical bars of the squat rack. The metal is very cold, making you flinch. But you play it cooler than the metal, propping your chin up on your wrist by putting your elbow on your knee.

“Hey Irene,” you say casually, as if you weren’t naked in front of one of the most powerful idols in the business, “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s fine.” Irene is just as casual as you are. She seems more interested in watching as Yeri crawls around the gym on her arms, gathering clothes.

“So you have a new comeback soon, huh?”

Her eyes seem unfocused for a moment, as if she’d just spaced out.

“Oh. Yes,” she eventually says.

Irene’s not especially talkative, you surmise.

“Well, if the recording isn’t too urgent, you can hang out with us for a bit longer. I bet Yeri would be willing to share, assuming you were also wanting in on this situation.”

“Oooh, hey yeah. You want some Irene?” Yeri asks. A cheesy grin spreads across her face. “I got him all warmed up for you.”

Irene gestures softly at Yeri’s bra in the middle of the floor. Yeri rolls her eyes and reaches out for it.

“I appreciate the thought.”

You shrug and move to grab your own clothes. Putting them on feels gross considering the sweat and cum all over you. You resolve to take a shower as soon as you get home. “It was worth a shot.”

Yeri gets her sports bra back on and lets out a long sigh. “You sure though? My voice is a little fucked up right now. We could say I’m sick and that you’re just taking care of me like a good leader.”

“Yes. Let’s go.”

A woman of few words, this one.

With your legs fully functional, you’re able to finish dressing much quicker than Yeri, and approach Irene, giving her a standard bow. “Good to meet you, by the way. Sounds like you’ve already heard about me.”

“From Joy, yes.” Irene bows back to you. “Is it okay if I get your contact from Wendy?”

You blink in shock. That was easy enough. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me.”

Irene nods, expression still inscrutable. “Do you prefer calls or texts?”

“Either works for me.”

Yeri pops in. “He’s not actually a prostitute you know.”

For the first time, Irene makes a face you can decipher. It seems to be a bit of minor, subtle shock. “Oh, so this…” She points back and forth between you and Yeri. “Was for…”

You finish for her after she pauses. “The hell of it, yeah.”

“I paid you in salmon bagels,” Yeri says.

“Well that and a free pilates lesson, sure.”

The tiniest smile curls up the corners of Irene’s lips. “How fun.”

It gets silent again, besides the sounds of Yeri huffing as she works to get her pants back on.  You nod quietly, unsure of how to respond.

Thankfully, Irene looks you in the eye and motions for you to come closer, which you do. While Yeri is occupied with pulling her hoodie back over her head, Irene leans in close to you and whispers into your ear, so quietly it takes you a moment to process what she’s saying.

“I heard you earlier. Stay away from Joy.”

You back off again, a little struck by what sounded like a very calm threat.

“I’m parked downstairs Yeri. No more than five minutes, okay?”

“Oh come on, you tell me that now?!”

Without another word, Irene turns and walks back out the door. You’re still a little stunned, watching the back of her head, when she looks back over her shoulder and gives you a coy smile and a wink. Your head swims with questions.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been staring at the now-closed door, but you’re snapped out of it by a loud smack on the back of your jeans, just below your ass. Yeri’s next to you, keeping herself upright with her hand on the wall. “A little help here?”

You look down and see her legs are shaking like leaves. “Oh shit, yeah, I’ve got you.”

Scooping your arm under hers, you support as much of her weight as you can on your shoulder. It feels like she’s mostly able to stay on her feet on her own, but she definitely wobbles a bit.

“You going to be okay?” you ask once you’re in the hallway.

“Oh totally! I’ll be able to walk... mostly normally once we’ve reached the studio. But you know how it is. Squat until your legs give out and then immediately get ass-fucked to an unexpected orgasm, and that’ll give you a few minutes worth of trouble.”

“That’s not actually a sensation I’m familiar with.”

“Who knows? Maybe Seulgi will get her domme act together and then you will be!”

You’re not so sure how you feel about that.

“Hey by the way. Irene was asking about getting your number, right? Can I get it now? Faster than getting it from Wendy since she’ll probably be out all day.”

This will be the last vote for Yexercise! *Wipes away tears* The deadline for this vote will be 1/23 at 12:00 UTC, at which point we’ll be talking on the Discord server about what’s next! Options for Part 10: 1. (Picked:) Of course she can have your number right away! You had fun, she had fun, you should have more fun! 2. Don’t let this crazy have your contact info. In fact, you should let Wendy know to give her a fake number…

~~~~~

You don’t even need to say anything. You pull out your phone, open your contacts, and hand it to Yeri. She puts her info in and sends herself some random gibberish in a text.

“Awesome!” she says, slipping the phone back into your pocket expertly as you make your way down the hall together, “No requests for sleazy pictures though. Can’t have anything getting out if something happens to your phone. Or mine.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream-- well, I would dream of it. But I won’t ask.”

Yeri giggles. “Ah, hey. The water’s right there. Wanna stop for just a second?”

At the machine, Yeri swipes her key card just like she did at the door to the gym. It only contains what you recognize as the cheap water brands, unsweetened tea, some dried fruit snacks in plain packaging, and a variety of protein bars. There’s no indicator for payment anywhere though.

“Perks of the personal, private gym?” you ask.

“Perks of the personal, private gym,” Yeri says.

A couple of water bottles are pushed out at arm’s height. Yeri hands one to you, takes the other for herself, and you both gulp down about half before continuing.

“I’ve got to say, I was expecting this to be one of those expensive waters. Blessed by monks, imported from Egypt, shit like that.”

Yeri smirks. “You know what they say. SM water tastes like water. No reason to spend wastefully.”

She finishes her water off, and you get to the stairwell. You think that three flights of stairs might be a little difficult at the moment, but fortunately there’s an elevator nearby you hadn’t noticed when you were following Yeri up earlier.

As you’re gradually taken to the ground floor, Yeri nudges your side. “If I ever share something juicy with you by the way, I expect at least five words in response. None of that ‘LOL’ followed by silence stuff.”

You laugh. “What if I can’t think of anything to say?”

“You can just bullshit an answer. No biggie.”

“What if my life is threatened because I know your gossip?”

“Your life, huh?”

“Well, not specifically. I just assume Irene will break every bone in my body. I guess I can live through that, right?”

“God, she better not be doing that again.”

You stare at Yeri. “Doing that again?”

“Making people uneasy. Point is, don’t worry about her. She’s just got a… uh, an unusual way of communicating, we’ll say.”

“Something like that, sure.”

Yeri puts her free hand on your chest. “She’ll warm up to you, I promise. I’ll put in a good word for you! As long as you do me one more favor.”

Anything to get a good word in to Irene so you don’t end up murdered. “What’s that?”

“Just give me one more, real good kiss in front of her. Right up next to the car window!”

You wrap your arms around her waist and shift Yeri so she’s in front of you. “Like this?” you ask, and half-lift her to your height. The moment your lips touch, you feel the elevator jerk to a stop and the door opens.

“Maybe a bit more than that, but I like where your head’s at.”

“It could be between your legs,” you say, mimicking Yeri’s seductive tone from earlier at The Lounge.

“Don’t tempt me like that!”

All smiles, you help Yeri feebly get outside. You spot a car with dark windows, where you can barely see Irene’s silhouette inside. It also happens to be the only car on the street, and Yeri easily confirms that it’s the correct one.

Yeri is thankfully able to stand on her own once you get to the passenger side. You open the door for her, but before she gets in, you spin her to face you and dive in for a real kiss. She moans and her arms wrap up under your shirt instantly, so you respond by sliding one hand down the back of her yoga pants. It should be right where Irene can see your fingers outlined through the fabric.

Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a reaction from Irene. You wonder what it will take to crack her neutral act.

“Mmm, even more than that next time, okay?” Yeri pulls away from you and turns to get into the car.

“Of course. I might charge you one extra water bottle next time though.”

“Uh-oh. I’ll be sure to save up for it.”

You laugh together before she sits down. You lean over to pop your head in after her. “See you next time then. And good to finally meet you Irene!”

Irene looks up at you from the book she was reading. “Hm? Oh yes, a pleasure.”

Yeri catches your gaze again. You can see the moment of sudden, unbridled thrill in her eyes, so you wait for her to say…“No Irene! The pleasure was mine!”

Her hand shoots up, and you meet it for an excellent, but questionably deserved high-five. Irene sighs heavily.

You laugh and back up again. “Nice one, Yeri. See you later.”

“See ya, ho!” Yeri shouts before closing the door. As is the case with Yerin, you’re pretty sure you’re stuck with nicknames like that from now on.

You wave the car goodbye and turn back around to make your way back home. You could use a shower.

THE END

~~~~~

Post-story notes:

Hey everybody! Thank you again for joining me for one of these crazy vote stories. I’ve really appreciated the participation, and I think we’ll be getting even more next time!

We’ll be discussing the subject and characters for the next story on the Discord. Suggestions so far include (forgive me if the capitalization is incorrect on these)… Dreamcatcher, WJSN, Mamamoo, Momoland, CLC, Oh My Girl, Lovelyz, more Gfriend, and Fromis_9! But nothing’s set in stone yet! Fill out the form in #announcements if you have even more suggestions to add to the hat.

As for when the next story starts, I’m going to say probably the first week of February. As you may have seen me mention, I’ll be writing some shorts just to spill some of my creative juices. On top of that, I quit my day job! Because I’m starting school! So exciting and nerve wracking! Given how stupidly stressful my day job was, I’m hoping I should be able to pump out stories a little more frequently moving forward.

The storyline unlocks from Yexercise are going to look pretty obvious: [Yeri - Workout buddy] [Yeri - Gossip girl]

And just like with Movie Night, here are some fun facts about unpicked options! At least one of you read these last time, and made a very astute observation about Sowon, so you’ll be getting your wish for that fairly soon.

Part 1. Picking Wendy or Seulgi would have (obviously) resulted in a different name for the story altogether! The names I had in mind weren’t finalized, but the top contenders were “Snow Day” for Wendy and “Dom-Flavored Pringles” for Seulgi.

Part 3. Yeri had two animals in mind for the pet-play: She could have been a cat or a cow. The option to be a puppy would have also been there, but she would have been skeptical about it given her history trying that with Joy.

Part 4. At first, I wasn’t planning on there being any anal in Part 6, but because the vote for Part 4 was SO close, I went back and changed my plans, just so y’all could get what you wanted. :P

Part 5. Again, just mentioning how close the vote was. I was very interested to see that for most of the voting period, the options to keep Yeri working out and to stop and just talk to her were neck and neck. I’m still feeling out what the best balance is between fluff and smut, and you guys are surprisingly wholesome!

Part 7. If you had chosen the leg workout, you’d have been too exhausted to help Yeri out of the gym, resulting in Irene rescheduling the recording session. She’d have stayed to hang out, and that would have blocked off the [Yeri - Gossip girl] storyline (which does have some smaller impact on the relationship with Irene moving forward as well, btw).

[couldntbedamned]

Til the Veins Start to Shiver

Bruce Banner/Reader

Summary:  You decide to tease Bruce with some provocative photos while he's working.  Bruce decides to tease you right back, and then some.

Warnings/AO3 Tags:  Teasing, swearing, derogatory language, dirty talk, Bruce Banner has a filthy mouth, dom/sub undertones, orgasm delay/denial, oral sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, overstimulation, size kink, aftercare

Author’s Note: Written for the fabulous and talented @boop-le-snoot. Inspired by this post here on Tumblr.

Til the Veins Start to Shiver

- - - - 

Bruce was about to lose it. He’d told you not to send him such provocative pictures while he was trying to work.

But you didn’t like to listen. You wanted him to lose it, wanted him to wake up and realize that as delicate looking as you could appear, you weren't breakable.

He wrapped up his work as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself and then stalked towards his floor. His sound-proofed, Hulk-proofed floor.

You were waiting for him, of course.  Smiling as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.  Smiling as if you’d won.

“Was it fun, baby, teasing me like that?”

You giggled. “Yes.”

“I hope it was. Because I like to tease, too. And I’m much, much better at it.” He pulled off his glasses and set them down on the dresser, began to unbutton his shirt.

“Get on the bed.”

“But what about my clothes?” Soft, pretty, lacy things.

“Do you really think I’ll let something like clothes get in my way? I thought you were smarter than that, baby.”

“It’s been a couple of hours, baby. How do you like teasing now?” Bruce asked. His face was wet from your pussy that he’d been eating off and on, forcing you up, up, and up but never letting you crash over. His fingers, also wet, drew messy little shapes all over your thighs and stomach.

“What’s the matter baby? Are you cock-dumb already? I haven’t even split you open on my cock yet.”

“P-please.”

You’d lost count of how many times he denied you, only knew that you needed to come more than you needed your next breath.

“But you like teasing,” Bruce chided, mock hurt all over his face.

“I guess there’s nothing else left then,” he finally said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You grab his arm before he can pull away, a feat of speed you had no idea how you managed. “Ple-ease, B-bruce. Fuck m-me.”

“Oh, you want me to fill that needy little cunt of yours?  Want me to split you open and fuck you like a dumb little doll I can toss and throw around?”

You nodded, desperate. “Y-yeah. Use me.”

“Sweet, dumb little baby, thinking you can tease me like that, that you’ll win. But you know better now, don’t you? Sir is so much smarter than you.”

Bruce pulled you onto him, held you over his monstrously thick cockhead, tinged with green and so much bigger than he’d previously fucked you with.

“You wanted this,” he cooed in your ear before he forced the head inside of your soaking cunt.

It was a stretch. Holy fuck, even with the hours of finger-fucking and oral sex it was a stretch and so, so much. But he didn’t stop, used his strength to pull you down onto him and your thighs trembled and your cunt pulsed and you didn’t know how you were going to survive it.

“I’m almost halfway in,” he told you, raising you up just a bit before forcing you down until you could feel him hitting your cervix… maybe even feel him in your throat. The hair around the root of his cock and balls would have probably tickled if you could have felt anything other than every single pulsing veined inch of him inside you.

“Pretty baby, full of my cock just like a dumb little girl like you should be.” He didn’t thrust but with every slight movement, fire raced through you. It was too much it was too much it was too much!

“And what do you say to Sir, when he’s filled your pretty little cunt with his big cock?”

You whimpered, tears falling.

He jerked his hips up and your cervix shifted and you cried out.

“Well?”

“T-th-ank y-you S-ir.”

“If you can still form words, I’m not doing my job.”

He started to properly fuck you, pulling you up and down, pausing a few times to add some lube in an act of mercy you didn’t think you’d get. The lube helped to a point, but a cock half-way between Bruce and the Hulk was not meant to be taken by mortal cunts like yours.

The battering of your cervix started to… not quite change from pain, but kind of meld with a deep sort of buzzing that signaled an orgasm you didn’t think you could walk away from.

“Baby girl, finally being so good for me, letting me use her just like she needs. Just let go, baby. You’re too pretty to think, just empty that head and I’ll empty into you.”

His fingers started playing with your clit while he used you like a fleshlight and when your orgasm tore through you with a violence you had never felt before, you felt yourself soak his cock and then collapsed bonelessly against him.

He continued to work in and out of you, his cock leaving no micrometer of your cunt unclaimed.

When he finally came, it was with a loud groan-bordering on-roar. The spill of his release was hot in your womb. There was so much and it squelched out with every thrust as he continued to milk his orgasm with your cunt.

“Look at my pretty baby,” he said adoringly as he lifted you off his softening monster of a cock and laid you back on the bed where you laid useless and splayed-legged.

Bruce kissed you, stroked his hands all over you lovingly as if checking to see that you were still there with him.

He didn’t move to clean you up, but you were too tired, too… cock dumb to care. Instead, he slipped something up your hips, around your ass. Then something slid inside you and settled in place. Something else pressed against your clit.

“I hope you enjoyed that orgasm, baby. Because I’m not done teasing you, yet.”

Vibrations started, sent fireworks across your clit, and you realized he’d locked a vibrator in place with the belt he’d pulled onto you. The shaft inside of you began to vibrate, too.

“There’s my pretty, cock-dumb baby. You look so pretty when you come for me, especially when you’re needy and crying.”

He settled back to take in the sight of you. He stroked his soft cock, idly.

"It’s always so fun to see how you plan to keep me from working too hard, baby. I have to admit, this is more satisfying than the equations I was working on. I might just have to keep this up all night."

With a sobbing moan, you came, and feeling no retreat from the vibrators, sobbed some more.

“My pretty baby has some smart ideas sometimes,” Bruce said fondly. “Not as smart as mine, but I love her anyways.”

- - - - -

Much later, as you fought sleep while lying next to Bruce, wearing your coziest pjs and wrapped in your favorite fluffy blanket, after Bruce had reverently and gently cleaned you and held you in the hot tub filled with soaking salts and oils and had hand-fed you your favorite snacks and held water for you to sip all while telling you how brilliant and wonderful and precious you were, how much he loved you and your intelligence, you had to agree to disagree to a point.

Bruce Banner may have earned seven Ph.D.’s, but you had gotten want you wanted, after all.

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[pitubea1910]

“I could kiss you right now”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Featuring: Avengers

Words: 2k

Warning: fluff, alcohol, some mild swear words

Request: -

Tags: -

Notes: -

Masterlist

Tony’s parties were among the most dangerous and funny events you could attend in New York City. The man really knew how to throw one. And if they were always a success when there was no reason to have one –except boredom-, imagine how they were when there was an actual reason.

This time, it was Tony’s 40th birthday party.

Usually, he would just use one of the floors of the Stark Tower. However, for this very special occasion, Tony had gone completely mental. He decided not to use the Tower. He didn’t rent a property or a club in New York. He had decided to take you all to Santorini, where he had rented a whole villa for all of you to spend his 40th birthday.

When he gave you the news, a week before the trip, you all were shocked. You thought he was kidding, but when he appeared the next day and gave each one of you a plane ticket to Athens, you saw how serious he was.

So there you were, with your best friends –pretty much family- in the world, drunk in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Along with the rental of the villa, it looked like Tony had bought the whole supply of alcohol of the island for your enjoyment and you weren’t going to let him down.

You had started drinking at 11 in the morning. Piña colada with your breakfast. Was there any better way to start the day? Of course, by sunset, you were more than tipsy. So was everyone else. Even Thor, Bucky and Steve were drunk. Tony had asked Thor to bring all the Asgardian liquor he could find and the god had complied.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” You said, leaning against the white stone wall while looking at the spectacular view of the ocean in front of you, with a cherry vodka in your hand.

“It is”, Wanda, who was beside you, said. “I can’t believe Tony rented this. I mean, look at this view.”

Just then, Steve and Sam walked right past you, laughing at something Sam said. Steve’s eyes and yours met for a moment and he winked at you before he continued walking. They were probably on their way to get more alcohol.

“Yeah… an amazing view”, you mumbled looking at Steve’s ass.

“Make a move already”, Wanda laughed when she saw what you were looking at.

“Should I?” You mumbled, still looking at the corner where Steve had disappeared.

“You’ve been pining for him for months now, so yeah”, she shrugged.

That was true. Even though Steve and you had been friends for a long time and you had never thought of him differently, but something had changed months ago. You didn’t even know when it had changed exactly, but suddenly you found yourself not being able to take your eyes off him, thinking about him at all times, smiling whenever he looked at you, looking for him the moment you walked into a room and so on.

You never made a move or let him know anything. You couldn’t risk your friendship or the team just because of an infatuation that would probably go away at some point.

“We’ll see”, you said and pushed yourself from the wall. “You coming?”

Wanda narrowed her eyes, looking at the ocean, considering your question as it was the most important question ever asked.

“No, I still need some more air”, she finally said.

“We’re next to the pool, literally around the corner… there’s air”, you said.

“Whatever”, she said with a drunk chuckle.

You brought your red cup to your lips and finished the sweet beverage Natasha had prepared and went back to where everyone was.

The villa was huge and it was at the top of one of the many cliffs of the island. Therefore, the stunning views. It had a swimming pool, a hot tub, a tanning and barbecue area and a chill out area. You had no idea how much money Tony had invested in this, but it would have been a lot.

“There she is!” Bucky said when you turned the corner to join everyone.

You had decided that the best place for the core of the party was the swimming pool area, since it was next to the barbecue and had plenty of places to sit down, lay down or just –obviously- take a bath.

“I just went to have some air”, you said.

“Because there’s a huge lack of it around here, right?” Sam teased.

You stuck your tongue out at him and went to the alcohol table to get a refill. You looked around the table for the ice. Once you found it, you threw three ice cubs into your cup and took the vodka, pouring some in the cup as you hummed to the music playing through the speakers.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Holy shit!” You exclaimed, not expecting anyone to talk to you at that moment.

Steve was quick enough to get the bottle before it crashed into the ground. You had been so focused on your drink that you hadn’t even heard anyone approaching you.

“Shit, sorry”, Steve said with a small smile and placed the bottle on the table.

“It’s okay”, you said as you giggled. “I was just… focused”, you laughed. “And yes, I am enjoying myself, thank you very much”, you finally answered his question.

You took the cherry bottle and poured some into the mix, turning it red. Finally, you looked at Steve, who was busy with his own drink. He looked gorgeous in that white shirt.

It had been Tony’s idea to have a white theme for the party, so everyone was in white. You were wearing a short white dress and brown sandals, with your hair up in a loose pony tail. With a sigh, you looked away from Steve, thinking about what Wanda had said.

Talking about making a move on Steve was easy. Actually making one, was a complete different story. He wasn’t only Steve, your friend; he was also Captain America, a public person with thousands of girls behind him, wasn’t a bit arrogant to think that he would chose you? You knew you had a lot to offer, but you didn’t know if it would be enough.

“You coming?” Steve asked when he finished refilling his cup.

“Huh?” You looked up at him.

“You okay?” He laughed. “You’ve been zooming out all afternoon”, he commented.

“Yeah, yeah… I think I’m just a bit…”

“Drunk?” He said with a teasing smile. You narrowed your eyes at him but smiled anyway. He always made you smile.

“Tipsy”, you said.

“I see”, he nodded and looked around. Suddenly, his lips formed an evil grin. “Maybe I can help you.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not going to bed or anything like that”, you said.

“Do you have your phone with you?” He asked, putting his cup on the table. You shook your head, actually wondering where you had left your phone. “Perfect.”

Without saying another word and without giving you time to react, Steve picked you up, making you drop your cup and spilling its content.

“Steve! What? What are you doing!?” You exclaimed, holding onto him as you saw that he was approaching the pool. “No! Don’t you dare! Rogers!”

“I think you need to sober up a little”, he said, still smiling.

“Go for it, Rogers!” You heard Sam encouraging him.

“Sam, shut up!” You screamed at him. “No, Steve, don’t!”

When Steve got to the edge of the pool, he was supposed to just throw you into it, but you refused to let go of him, so when he tried to let go of you, he found himself being pulled by your weight into the swimming pool as well.

The water wasn’t cold at all, thanks to the outside temperature, but it still caught you completely by surprise. However, you didn’t let go of Steve at any time. If you were going down, you were taking him with you.

“What the fuck?” He said when you two came out to the surface to the laughs of the whole team.

“You threw me into the pool!” You exclaimed, your arms still around his neck.

“And you took me with you”, he said now laughing.

“Well… yeah”, you nodded before you started laughing as well.

“Better?”

“I was okay the whole time! What made you think that throwing me into the water would sober me up?” You laughed.

“Well, I don’t know”, he shrugged. “I watched it in some movies. Aren’t you sober?”

“Sober enough to do this”, you said.

Then, you moved your hands to his shoulders and pushed him under the water before swimming away. You heard him coming to the surface with a gasp so you tried to swim faster to get to the edge, but just when you were about to reach it, Steve grabbed your ankle and pulled you back.

“No!” You laughed.

“You just tried to drown me!”

“Please, don’t, don’t do it”, you said holding onto him as he was a lifeboat.

You hadn’t even realised that you had both your arms and legs around him so he wouldn’t push you under water. It wasn’t until he smiled at you and pushed some hair out of your face that you were aware of it. And it was then when your heart starting beating way too fast and you felt yourself blushing.

“Please”, you whispered. Not really knowing what you were asking for.

“I could kiss you right now”, he whispered, looking at your lips.

You felt the breath leaving your throat as he spoke and your eyes moved down to his lips, just in time to see him running his tongue over them. It was the biggest temptation you had ever felt and, yet, you didn’t dare to close the distance.

“Do it”, you said instead.

Steve smiled slightly and moved his head closer to yours slowly, as he was giving you time to back away. But you weren’t going to do it. Still, he stopped when he was just an inch away from your lips, so close you could feel his breath against you, you could smell the gin mixed with his own scent. It was intoxicating. You bite your lip slightly and it looked like that was the last sign Steve needed.

He pressed his lips against yours slowly, allowing you to savour the moment as he wrapped his arms properly around you. His lips were cold due to the water and yet they felt warm and soft, his tongue slowly found its way into your mouth where he found yours, making a low moan escape your mouth which caused him to smirk into the kiss.

It was then, with his arms around you and his tongue in your mouth, when you realised that your feelings for the Captain were deeper than a crush.

***

Next day you woke up around noon with one of the worst hangover you had ever experienced. It had been one of the best nights of your life and you couldn’t remember most of it. However, you remembered the most important part: kissing Steve.

It hadn’t stopped at the pool. Once that kiss finished and everyone also finished teasing you, there were dozens of them along the night. Stolen ones, quick ones, heated ones. It looked like he had been waiting to kiss you for ages and was now making up for the lose time.

Yet, when you went to bed when the sun was already coming up again, he didn’t go to your room with you. He decided to sleep in the room he was sharing with Bucky. You weren’t exactly disappointed, but you weren’t happy about it either. Maybe he regretted it? Maybe he realised that he shouldn’t have kissed you and wanted to put distance?

There was no way of knowing it, except talking to him, but you didn’t know how to start the conversation. Although getting out of bed was a good start. You put on a pair on ripped jeans, a white short t-shirt and your flip flops. Since there was nothing you could about your hair, you just put it up in a messy bun and made your way out of the room.

The house was completely silent, which made you think that maybe you were the first one to wake up. It was surprising, since you and Steve had been the last ones to go to bed. In the kitchen, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice and walked to the patio where you had spent the whole night. It looked like Tony had hired a cleaning service since the only trace of the party was Bucky’s underwear floating on the pool.

“Morning”, you looked at one of the hammock to find Steve, lying there shirtless and with his sunglasses on.

“Hey”, you said, smiling a little as you remembered last night. “How are you feeling?”

“It’s the last time I’m drinking that Asgardian thing”, was his response.

You chuckled and took a seat on another hammock, next to him.

“You say that every time”, you said.

“Because I always forget how awful it feels in the morning”, he admitted with a smile. “How are you?”

“Like someone smashed my head with Mjolnir”, you smiled.

Steve smiled and turned his head to look up once again. While you drank your juice, you studied his face, wondering how to start the conversation and not finding an answer. He looked relaxed and happy –despite the hangover-. If he regretted anything, he would say something or, at least, wouldn’t be so relaxed, right?

“You’re staring”, he said after a few minutes. “So you probably want to tell me something.”

“Maybe?” You said.

Steve smiled and sat up, taking off his sunglasses. Then, he moved his legs to the side so he was sitting properly and facing you, his forearms on his legs and his eyes focused on you, waiting.

“Shoot”, he said.

“It’s about last night”, you said.

“I figured”, he nodded. “What about it?”

Was he really going to make you explain it? Wasn’t it obvious?

“Well… we… we had fun, right?” He nodded. “And we…”

“Kissed. A lot. I know”, he smiled. “I don’t bite, (Y/N), you can say it if you don’t want it to happen again.”

“What? No! That’s… you want it to happen again?” You asked.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed”, he said. “But I’m not the kind of guy who goes around kissing someone for no reason.”

“So… there’s a reason?” You asked and he nodded. “What is it?”

“Maybe the same reason that made you kiss me back every single time?”

“Eh…” you looked down at the juice. Steve took the glass from your hands and put it on the floor before taking your hands in his.

“Because I like you, (Y/N)”, he finally said. You looked at him and bit your lip, but you couldn’t help smiling widely.

“You do?” You asked and he nodded again. “So you don’t regret it?”

“In fact”, he said, moving a bit closer. “I think I’m going to kiss you again, just to show you how much I don’t regret it.”

He placed one of his hands on your face to pull you closer and kiss you slowly. This time it was different from last night, it was calmed, slow and perfect. When he pulled away, he pecked your lips briefly before looking at you.

“Then why didn’t you stay the night with me?” You asked.

“Because I didn’t want our first night together to happen when we were completely wasted”, he shrugged. “I want us to remember it perfectly”, he smiled.

Your stomach twisted at his answer. It was probably the best one he could have given you and it made you feel so stupid for thinking that he was going to avoid you. With a small smile, this time it was you the one kissing him again, moving to sit on his lap as you wrapped your arms around him and he hugged you tightly, kissing you back as the morning sun warmed you up in that beautiful morning of May.

[fandom-monium]

I JUST READ KITCHEN CATASTROPHES OMG ITS SOOO CUTE UGH MY HEART SO SOFT CAN YOU PLSSS DO A PART 2? THANK YOU KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DO

AN: thank you, anon! i dont plan to make a sequel to KC. But if i did:

For Valentine’s Day

Summary: In which you throw a wrench in Spencer’s plans: you don’t like Valentine’s Day. “If it’s with you, I guess it’s not so bad.”

WC: 2.9k (whoops)

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, semi anti-valentines day, Spencer tears up but dont worry were there to fix that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, post-For the Holidays

Fuck cooking, Spencer thinks one day.

It's an irrational thought. The kind that strikes through his mind in a flash of irritation like a scrape of the knee as he is perusing the internet. Yes, he is using a computer willingly. He has to because he's desperate.

Cooking is stupid. Who really needs it, right?

…

He needs it. God, he needs it so bad.

His need to learn cooking wasn't as incessant until recently. Until you came along.

Spencer is a meticulous person and a romantic if you'd ever met one. Makes sense considering how he grew up, reading the classics and all that. He's read all the gooey literary shit old people write and while he never understood those meanings it all dawned on him one day. Quotes written like 'the stars in their eyes' and 'sunshine glowing off them like a halo', suddenly makes sense once he meets you. Or at least, after coming to know you, months into your newfound friendship.

It's because of this he plans accordingly the weeks leading up to Valentine's day! Because again he's meticulous and a romantic and a genius so he plans every step and makes a back up plan in case A, B, and C fall through.

Is he going overboard? 

… Nah. No way. Not when it comes to you.

But fuck with a capital F, man.

It's your third date. Or what is supposed to be your third date if you would just stop being you for a second.

Then again, he loves you a lot and he wouldn't love you if you weren't, well, you.

Although—pardon his french—what the fuck. 

Spencer knows he needs to learn to cook. You've tried plenty of times to teach him and he loves learning and he especially loves it when you are the teacher (wait, does he have a teacher/student fantasy? Maybe. That’s something he'll look into later. Preferably with you). 

Unfortunately, he's terrible at it.

He's made progress and he knows it's true because you said so but the miniscule progress he's made is. Not. Enough. And it's all your fault! Because he gets so distracted by you during your lessons, like when you put your hands over his to show him proper slicing techniques—holy fuck, he wanted to combust right there—or just watching your deft hands at work, lips and brow scrunched in concentration in that adorable way. And you smell like cooking oil or whatever you're making and you're hot.

He's so into you it physically hurts. Ugh. How is he so lucky? 

You're also the first person he's been this into since Maeve. And everyone knows how well that turned out.

So he tries to dial it down for Valentine’s Day. Morgan told him once he tends to throw himself into everything he does, including love. And when you two got together, he promised the universe he will not fuck this up. He ends up combining Morgan’s advice with Luke’s, trying to be casual like Luke says because apparently you're just as into him as he is of you. 

The thought makes him grin uncontrollably. Luke says it makes him look like a clown but a lovesick clown. A lovefool, Luke hehs.

Spencer doesn’t get the joke, but it does nothing to deter him.

As Luke advised, Spencer does “not” make a dozen back up plans and does “not" plan weeks in advance. Because that wouldn't be casual, would it?

But now the day’s come and as Valentine’s Day turns to Valentine’s Night, Spencer wants to pull his hair, rub his frustratedly stinging eyes but he can't because he's in the middle of work, in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of his desk and he refuses to be that guy. Not again.

Why does he feel like sobbing? Like a loser? 

Because you don't like Valentine’s Day. No, you abhor it.

It happens in the middle of the work day. It's like he tried to open a door only for a bucket of ice water to be dumped on him and now he looks like a drowned rat. He definitely feels like one.

You're talking with Garcia about her Valentine’s Day plans as you multitask, switching between putting together packets and stacking them aside. Then taking them under the hole-puncher and stapling them together because the BAU isn't all kicking down doors and catching freaks. 

It makes sense that you’re chatting with Garcia during your break. The two of you have become two peas in a pod after you came out of your shell. Now you're inseparable. Only you make Garcia leave her batcave as much as she does now.

Out of sight, he catches tidbits of your conversation when he hears distinctively: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

Okay, you didn't say that verbatim but you might as well have, grimacing as you three hole-punch a packet and his heart. Then a nail on his coffin only it’s with a stapler. 

Thump. Chick.

Spencer winces; there goes your his Valentine’s Day plans. 

It shouldn't sting as much as it does. You've been dating for over a month and Valentine’s Day is definitely not his favorite holiday either. It's not even top 3. And as you rant he can’t help but silently nod in agreement, all the facts straight: yes, it's an eyesore. Yes, it's a capitalistic holiday. Yes, people should do nice things for their significant others no matter the time and not because it's expected on a specific day. Yes, it doesn't compare to Halloween—

The thing is, you two aren't that “couple-y”, at least in a traditional sense. Not like Will and JJ who got a babysitter so they could go out or like Luke and Garcia as they plan to go to a special Valentine’s Day event she wants to check out (she vehemently denies anything going on between them but he doesn't need to be a genius to see the affection they have for one another. Just kiss already, damn).

So yeah, Spencer hoped to spend the romantic holiday with you. For once, he'd have Valentine’s Day plans, aside from exchanging cards with the team and his mother.

But apparently you hate Valentine’s Day! So there goes plan A, B, C, and D!

Spencer feels the tears spring at the corner of his eyes. He sniffs as subtly as he can, raising an open case file to his face. Of all the plans he hadn't thought through this was not one of them. IQ 187, his ass.

He should've known. Or at least ask your thoughts on Valentine’s Day. That was inconsiderate on his part. He blinks back tears, withdrawing into himself despite his hurt because he is a lovefool and only for you. He just wants to impress you, make you happy even if that means canceling your first Valentine’s Day together.

Now if you'll excuse him, he has to call off a few reservations and make some returns. Several actually.

Can you return a dozen donuts in the shape of hearts?

… Yeah, he better ask Emily for the rest of the day off.

—

"Hey Newb, have you seen Spencer? I haven't seen him since his break," You ask, resting your chin in your hand as you squint at another form. Your eyes are beginning to tire. 

Spencer asked you several times over the course of the last week, checking to see if you were free today. You are, so you planned to hang with him after work, but he hasn't returned from his break and he wasn't answering your calls or texts. Not unusual but still odd for your boyfriend (you still can’t believe you get to say that).

Luke sighs, his smooth voice reaching over your shared divider, "You know at some point I'm just not going to respond. You guys can’t call me Newbie forever."

"Keep telling yourself that," You snort without looking up.

Another sigh and you smirk: you win.

"For your information," Luke grumbles, words punctuated with sass, "Doc went home."

You pause. "Home?" He didn't tell you.

"Yeah, probably to get ready for your date."

"Our date?" You frown and stand up, leaning over the divider to see if Luke’s fucking with you.

He isn't. Luke shrugs, humming wistfully as he rests his cheek in his hand, "You should've seen how excited he was, being it your first Valentine's Day and all. I told him to chill out because you'll love whatever it is no matter what but I'm sure he ignored that and planned something spectacular for you guys." Sitting back, he twirls around in his chair.

You grimace, recalling your earlier conversation with Garcia. 

Shit.

"Meanwhile, I have to spend Galentine's Day with Garcia because all the ladies of the BAU are taken and I have nothing better to do—" Luke comes to a full 720, catching the tail end of your coat as you whip it on and make for the door. "—um, excuse you?"

"If Emily asks, I had an emergency!" You manage to call back, throwing open the glass door.

"Okay?"

"Thanks, Newb!"

As the elevator door dings shut with you inside, leg jumping because you have a sneaking suspicion you fucked up, Luke slouches in his chair and grumbles.

He's not a newb. Or a newbie.

—

You rush over to Spencer's, catching your breath as you stumble to his front door. There's shuffling from inside, the faint sound of clanking and crashing and your heart swells because this is the man you’ve fallen for, the first one you've ever felt this way for. Here he is, being all considerate and romantic. And here you are, fucking it up when your relationship’s barely even started.

God, you're an asshole, you berate yourself as you turn the doorknob and push open the door. You're an asshole you're an asshole you’re an asshole—

Then your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. 

Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth and nose as your favorite scented candles hit you like someone shoved a bouquet in your face. The description isn't too far off considering there's a lovely bouquet of your favorite flowers still in its wrapping, haphazardly set next to a dozen donuts on the coffee table like no one's business. Its petals are strewn across the floor, a few in tiny piles like they were hastily swept to the side. Red and pink and dark green fill your vision.

Who gutted Cupid and tossed his organs around, holy fu-

"(Your name)?"

Startled, you crane your head to find Spencer, beautiful hair askew and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he clutches flowers to his chest. In his other hand, he grips the colored strings of several shiny red and pink balloons in the shape of hearts and—fuck—your heart might actually float up from your chest and into your eyes.

This is your man. Your partner. Your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend panics, fumbling for a second before stuffing the balloons and trimmed flowers back into the room behind him and slamming the door shut. He turns back to you, eyes wide.

"What-what are you doing here?" Spencer stammers, wringing his hands together.

You blink at him, dumbly holding up your phone. "You-uh-you left early and didn't return my calls."

"I'm sorry. I think I left my phone at work," Probably because he left in such a rush, Spencer groans, looking anywhere but you. The petals scattered over his floor are quite pretty in this light. "And I was a bit busy."

"I'm sure you were," You gawk openly at the strings of fairy lights hung around his living room. It's a clash of aesthetics. Spencer always rocked dark academia, but despite how ugly the combination of red and pink decorations with his nature green walls and dark wood is, it leaves his apartment a little brighter, a little cozier, and you love it.

You love everything about this.

But as you take in the ugly beauty of it all, Spencer fidgets at the doorway, mistaking your awe as shock and disgust. Wiping sweaty palms on his trousers, his eyes dart around, trying to focus on something, but every place he lays his eyes on makes him cringe. He catches all the things he couldn't clean up or put away in time. No doubt you do too. All the leftover flower petals, the donuts he can’t return, candles that haven’t blown out because he has the lungs of an 8-year old asthmatic. 

Spencer can't imagine how appalled you are.

And the longer your silence stretches on, the more nervous he gets so he blurts out, "I'm so sorry, (Your Name)!"

Your brow shoots up as he begins to ramble.

"You must hate this. I'll put everything away."

"You really don't have to—" You stop him, and your heart nearly crumbles as Spencer's does when he finally meets your worried gaze. 

His eyes gleam with unshed tears. He swallows, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Doc—"

"At least not without asking you—"

"Doctor—"

"I understand if you want to break up—" His voice cracks, as if the idea itself will destroy him (it definitely will). 

"Spencer—" His voice, wobbly and dripping with unnecessary guilt, draws you to him.

"But I want you to know that I—"

With an exasperated sigh, you grab his hand as yours finds the nape of his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. 

For a second, Spencer doesn't respond because who kisses the person they're about to break up with? Strange, really. But then he kisses you back. His hands remain frozen, unsure of where he stands, but he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He figures this is a new social cue he has yet to learn. And if this is the last time you kiss him, he'll treasure every second of it, take whatever you'll give him because again he's a lovefool for you. 

And when you pull back, he's too dazed he nearly misses the look you give him. Suddenly, he can’t breathe.

You look at him like he hung the stars instead of cheap fairy lights around his apartment. 

Spencer’s confused. "I-I... Wha—"

"I'm not breaking up with you," You chuckle, and you nearly burst out laughing as genuine puzzlement takes over his face. You tug him behind you, plopping yourselves on his couch. You smile, appreciating the way he organized the cushions and throw-pillows; there's now space for two people to lay down.

You take a breath. "You wanna know why I don't like Valentine’s Day?"

Spencer slouches, though his body is angled towards you so you suppose that's good. He sighs, "Because it's a capitalistic holiday that reinforces the idea of doing the bare minimum…"

He begins listing your reasons, and your eyes soften. Of course he listened and remembered even if you mentioned it offhandedly.

You nod once he finishes. "Yes but before that—and I can't believe I'm telling you this—back when I was a little kid, I didn’t get any Valentines."

Spencer's brow furrows at the newfound information. You continue, "I'd get some from my friends and stuff but that's not what Valentine's Day is about. At least not when you're a kid. When you’re a dumb kid, it’s about couples and romantic shit, and I didn't really have any of that growing up." You purse your lips and glance away, face flushed with embarrassment. It's really not that big a deal, but putting it into words makes the idea seem more intimate and personal.

It takes a moment for your words to sink in as Spencer can't believe his ears. How could you not have been showered with love and affection and presents on Valentines Day? It's like water doesn't make things wet or fire doesn't produce heat; it just doesn't make sense. Because you deserve that much and more.

"So every Valentine's Day, I lowered my expectations and eventually I stopped caring. I'd tell myself those things and I started to believe them," You bite your lip, eyes crinkling as you give Spencer a sheepish smile. "But now I have you."

At that, Spencer returns your smile, letting you take his hand. Any tears he had seem to evaporate instantly.

“So, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I stand by what I said before, Valentine’s Day sucks. But if it’s with you,” Blushing deeply, you play with Spencer's hand, large and veins defined compared to yours, shrugging, “I guess it’s not so bad.”

Spencer’s smile broadens, and he intertwines your fingers together. "So what you’re saying is, you don’t hate this?” He looks around his living room.

You shake your head, unable to stop the grin crossing your lips. “No. In fact, very much the opposite. Honestly, thank you for this, it’s beautiful. I have no words.” You breathe it all in; the candles, the flowers, the— Your nose wrinkles and you snort, “Did you burn something?”

Bashfully looking down, he scratches his chin. “I-uh-tried to make your favorite dishes. Though, I was hoping the candles and flowers would mask it.”

You giggle and pull him into you, snuggling into his side. “That’s okay. I’d much rather have you anyway.”

With Spencer a blushing, stuttering mess in your arms, head resting on your chest, you press a kiss to his hair and conclude; yeah, you don’t like Valentine’s Day. 

But you sure as hell love Spencer more.

—

AN:  FtH status: finished - 7/5. yes 7.

I realize this was not what anon requested but oh well i wrote this at 2 am 

I’m not that anti v day but i stand by the capitalistic aspect.

yes this takes place after For the Holidays.

also included luke bc hes my bro and i honestly think he deserves so much more than what the show gave also garvez ftw

happy post valentine’s day!!

Song: Lovefool by The Cardigans

[watermelonlipstick]

Junkyard

PG-13 oneshot: semi-angst into fluff. Thanks so much for reading!! I would love any advice or critiques, and please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in anything :) 

Title: Junkyard

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Word Count: 2170

Summary: Bobby’s a little too overprotective of you with Dean. Sam is very much a younger brother about it.

gif not mine! please let me know if you know whose it is so I can give them credit!

Dean’s hand slipped under your t-shirt, his fingers ice cold from the Sioux Falls October night. You gripped his collar with one hand, the other running through his gelled hair. The tip of his nose was cool against your cheek as his lips crashed into yours, and you nipped at him with your tongue. He answered in kind, pulling you into him. Your jeans slid on the trunk of the old junk car under the pressure until you were ground up against Dean’s belt where he stood. He slipped his other hand into your hair, gripping the base of your neck and exposing your throat before kissing and sucking hungrily. You groaned involuntarily and could feel Dean smile into your soft skin. Sliding down his chest, you gripped his belt buckle and flicked it open with one hand, your turn to grin when Dean gasped softly.

           He leaned into you, the hand on your head lowering you urgently but gently onto the trunk. The exposed skin on your back screamed at the freezing cold metal but you didn’t care, trying to yank him over you like a blanket while he tore at his jacket.

           “Boy if you don’t get that poor girl inside I’ll tan your ass and use it as a coin purse! It’s damn near freezing out! You must think I’m pretty goddamn stupid and I’ll tell you: I was born at night but it wasn’t last night!” Bobby yelled from the house, his voice carrying over the salvage yard.

           “Fuck,” Dean pulled away to whisper through gritted teeth. He pressed his forehead into you, waiting for a beat while you both caught your breath before leaning back to offer a hand. You took it and hopped down from the perch of the trunk. Feeling in the dark for any major bumps, you adjusted your ponytail and yanked your shirt down to meet the waist of your jeans. Dean re-buckled his belt and held out his arm so you could go first back to Bobby’s house.

           Coming through the door, the first thing you saw was Sam sitting at the kitchen table. He smiled up at you slyly without raising his head, and you were thankful that the cold air had already flushed your cheeks. Bobby was a few steps behind him, thankfully looking past you at Dean. If looks could kill, Dean would be burning alive.

           “How was your, uh, walk?” Sam asked with the kind of smug grin only he could deliver.

           “Fine,” you said briskly, adding a tight lipped nod. Sam looked past you to Dean, whose smile was popped open at the edge by his tongue in his cheek. You shot him a warning look and he closed his mouth.

           “Great,” Dean added.

           Bobby slammed down the casserole dish he was holding with enough force that you listened for the Pyrex to crack. “Here you go then,” he said, even more gruffly than normal.

           Dinner was so awkward and silent that it made you sick to your stomach. You tried your best to look only down at your plate, the glances you stole showing Sam’s barely contained glee at Dean having been caught out and Bobby’s barely contained disdain at it. When you finally finished your plate, you grabbed all the empty dishes within reach and headed to the kitchen sink with them. “Thanks for dinner, Bobby! I’m beat, I’ll see you all tomorrow!” you threw over your shoulder as you went, feeling for all the world like a frog trying to climb out of a near-boiling pot.

           “Not so fast, kid,” Bobby barked. You set the dishes down quietly in the sink and marched back to your seat at the table. “We need to have a talk.”

           Sam sat still, but you could tell from the expression on his face that he would’ve been exploding out of his chair with schadenfreude if he could.

           “I’ll leave you guys alone, then. Goodnight! Dinner was great, Bobby,” Dean said, playing dumb in an effort to escape himself. Bobby slapped one open palm on the table hard and the older Winchester returned to his seat. Dean had been keeping it together remarkably well, but the color drained from his face as he settled.

           Bobby sat silently for a few agonizing moments before speaking. “Now. I know you boys haven’t had a lot of experience living with a young woman before—”

           “Oh. My. God.” Sam said under his breath excitedly. Bobby glared at him.

           “But I will be damned if you plan on treating this house like some sleazy frat basement!” he yelled, building steam. You were absolutely mortified, unable to even look at Dean or Sam. “Now get your dumb asses up and go to bed. Don’t make me give this speech again.” His voice was low and grim as you got up and pushed your chair in. Sam and Dean got up too, but you heard Bobby growl a dark “sit” to Dean as you and Sam walked away. You felt a tinge of guilt at leaving him alone, but it was nothing compared to the dread that fell over you at the thought of sitting at the table a second longer.

           Sam followed you up the stairs. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “You think he’s going to kill him?” You knew he was joking, but were scared at what Bobby was going to say to Dean anyway. It was ridiculous, for three adults to be wrapped up so much in the opinion of a man who wasn’t the real father of any of you, and yet you felt exactly like a reprimanded child.

           You changed quickly into a big old t-shirt and worn cotton sweatpants, padding down the hallway in a messy bun to wash your face and brush your teeth when Bobby started yelling. Sam shot his head out of the bathroom curiously and came to the stair landing with you to listen.

           “This is not a random girl in some town you’re passing through, Dean!”

           Dean responded too quietly for you and Sam to hear.

           “That’s how you treat her with respect? Slip her out the back door to fool around in a damn junkyard?!” You heard a crash that you thought sounded like one of the chairs being tossed to the ground. When Bobby spoke again he was quieter; Sam and you leaned in to hear him.

           “If you make that girl shed one tear, boy, so help me God you’ll be wishing you were back in Hell.”

           Sam sucked air through his teeth, wincing. You realized your mouth was hanging open, stunned both that Bobby could cut that deep and that he seemed not to trust you to protect yourself at all. You weren’t stupid; of course you knew Dean’s reputation. On some level, you were worried he might live up to it. But for now he was gorgeous and it was a little lonely staying with Bobby up in Sioux Falls. You were having fun, and the fallout was for you to beat yourself up about in the future, not now.

           When you heard movement in the kitchen, you darted into the bathroom and Sam tried to head down the stairs casually to the day bed in the library. You brushed your teeth and washed your face brusquely, making it back to the spare bedroom without seeing Bobby head to the other bedroom upstairs. Pulling the old comforter over you on the old brass bed, you fell asleep fitfully.

           You woke with a start feeling like you were being watched. Based on the dim glow creeping through the slats between your blinds, it was at least a few hours after you went to sleep. When you scanned the room, Dean’s silhouette filled the doorframe.

           “What’re you doing?” you whispered urgently.

           “I wanted to see if you were up,” he answered, stepping into the room so that the moonlight illuminated his face. The shape of his full lips made you ache, the shadow of his jaw onto his neck begging to be touched. You realized as always that his socked feet were his only concession to the hour; his “pajamas” were his still-belted jeans with a t-shirt.

           “I’m up now, what’s going on?” Dean kept took a few more steps into the room toward you, biting his lip slowly. You got up to your elbows, the old bed’s springs creaking underneath you. “What’re you doing?” you repeated. “Bobby’s going to kill us,”

           “I think you mean Bobby’s going to kill me,” he smiled, half of his face obscured by shadow. He was standing at the foot of your bed now, fiddling with the hem of a blanket. “Seems pretty interested in protecting you from the big bad womanizer.”

           “Yeah, I heard some of that,” you offered cautiously.

           “Figured you and Sam would be listening. Hear everything?”

           “Not everything, but enough. So come on, don’t poke the bear. Go to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You laid back down, tucking the comforter up under your chin. Dean didn’t move.

           “You don’t want me here?”

           You smiled in the dark. “Dean, Bobby’s room is like 15 feet away.”

           “Guess we’ll have to be quiet then.”

           Dean rounded the corner of the bed and leaned down, grazing your lips with his. He knew what he was doing, and you could only hold out for a second before greedily snatching the back of his head and sliding your mouth onto his. The bed groaned in response to the extra weight and you pulled away sharply, alarmed at the noise.

           Dean grabbed the extra blankets you kept at the foot of your bed for extra cold nights in Bobby’s drafty Midwestern house and spread them on the floor in a sort of picnic-nest before spinning around and picking you up off the bed, comforter and all. You put a hand over your mouth to keep from giggling as he lowered you both down onto the blankets. “Better?” he asked as you nodded into his chest. Warmth came off of him through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, seeping into you like melting honey. Easing down until your chests pressed together, he kissed you deeply and softly without any of the urgency he had in the junkyard. You relished in the roughness of his hands and stubble on you as he took his time exploring your lips and neck. Dean pulled away to take a breath, leaning back on his knees.

           “Wait,” he whispered.

           “What’s wrong?” you spit out, scared he might’ve heard something in the hallway.

           Dean looked down at you and the shadows caught all the angles in his face. He looked into your eyes and then out the window, biting his lip.

“I’m not just messing around,” he finally said. There must’ve been enough moonlight for him to see your face because Dean pursed his lips in frustration. “I mean what Bobby said is not true. Or maybe it was before, but not now, not with you. I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”

“Dean, I know what this is, it’s okay. You don’t have to worry about ‘sparing my feelings’ or whatever,” you replied, touching his chest. He grabbed your wrist.

“Sparing your feelings? No, that’s what I mean. I want it to be more than…this,” he said, gesturing to the blankets surrounding you on the floor. “I just, I want to be, like, with you,” he mumbled.

“Are you serious?” you replied, sitting up.

“I, uh, I mean yeah,” he said, leaning back onto his heels. “If you want to.” Seeing Dean shy and nervous like a teenager this way was unusual, and it caught you off guard.

“Uh, wow,” you breathed, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t know you like, dated, or whatever.”

He let out a chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah I guess I don’t really, huh?”

“So this is you asking me out?”

“Yeah. But only if you’re going to say yes.” The half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth looked more like the Dean you knew.

“And if I did, would that make this our first date?” you asked, pulling at a loose thread from your sweatpants’ hem.

“I was thinking dinner or something, but I mean, sure, why not?”

“Hmmm, bummer,” you thought aloud with a smile. “Thought you’re not supposed to have sex until the third date.”

Without Dean’s hand behind your head it would’ve cracked against the floorboards with the force of him suddenly slamming into you, but instead you were enveloped in his kiss and the scent of leather and pine that always floated around him. You giggled into his lips when you felt Dean grin against you, and he pulled away a few centimeters. Your breath mixed as he asked, “That’s a yes, right?” It was all you could do to nod as you melted into each other, turning into a tangle of muffled little laughs, discarded clothes, and heavy, warm breaths.

~

ETA: Did you know there’s a Junkyard, Part 2? Might be worth checking out 😉

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass​, @akshi8278​, @dream-believe-and-love​

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Soulmarks, Part 10

First part

Previous

~~~

(Tw. It’s a whump, and it’s not even that bad by my standards, but I figured I’d tag anyways)

He pulled a smile to his face as he turned back to where the old woman he had helped was last, but she was nowhere in sight. Confusion flickered in his mind, and a tiny part of him told him that something was terribly wrong, but he’d not been given enough time to react.

A mallet hit him on the side of the head and he went crashing to the ground, little more than a groan leaving his lips as he tried to push himself back to his feet. The woman was still there, he needed to get her away --.

His eyes found their way to Harley Quinn, who was wiping makeup from her skin.

He struggled to push himself up, his head ringing. He’d been tricked, he had no one to save, he needed to leave --.

She smiled brightly, giving him a tiny finger wave before swinging her mallet again...

He was pulled from unconsciousness when cold water was tossed over him.

Tim looked up into the bleached faces of Harley and Joker and a tiny gasp escaped his lips that had nothing to do with the sudden cold.

God, no no no no no --.

He forced himself to relax a bit. He’d be useless if he allowed himself to freak out like this. He just needed to concentrate. He needed to get away...

He was on the floor, the stone cold on his bare arms. His arms and legs were pinned underneath him with... ropes. Ropes! He could get out of that. He just needed to time it right.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite boy blunder!” Said Joker, the smile on his face somehow stretching wider than usual.

Tim jutted his chin out as much as he could from his spot on the ground. “Man, you really do just take one joke and run it into the ground, don’t you?”

Joker’s smile didn’t waver, but he could see the way his eyes narrowed.

Good, if he could get them angry enough, then he could use their distraction to escape --.

A mallet hit him over the head again and he groaned in pain as lights danced behind his eyes. Hm. Well, that wasn’t quite to plan, but this was still doable…

Harley giggled, twirling the mallet in her hands. “Do we know for sure that we crushed the Robin findy-thingy?”

“Not yet, poo. How about you make sure? Make sure he’s alive, though, I have plans for him.”

He started to walk away and Tim’s eyes widened as Harley brought her mallet up with a bright smile on her face.

He didn’t know which possibility was worse: Harley beating him to death or what would happen to him if he survived.

Well, he wasn’t about to find out. The ropes slackened and he rolled out of the way of a swing. He wrenched his arms free

He started trying to untangle his legs from the ropes, but then decided that it was a lost cause as they got even more tangled. He’d find a knife or something later, he couldn’t just spend time trying to get out like that when someone was attacking him.

He barely managed to move out of the way of Harley’s next swing and looked around quickly for an exit.

There! On the complete opposite side of the room! Great!

Sarcasm aside, he reached around for the nearest blunt object and managed to grab ahold of an old board. He brought up his new weapon to combat Harley’s mallet, sure that he wouldn’t get lucky another time, and cursed as it splintered on impact.

Woodchips attacked them and Harley was forced to fall back to avoid getting too cut up.

Not what he’d wanted, but still good! He had distance, all he needed was to get away!

He got to his feet again and started attempting to hop-run away, only for her to step on one of the trails of rope that still bound him. He cursed as he was pulled off-balance, a hand flying out to catch his fall on instinct and he screamed in pain as his arm crunched under the sudden weight.

He brought his definitely broken arm to his chest and flipped over to look at Harley.

She was advancing on him, her mallet resting on her shoulder. She was panting, at least. Those few swings had been hard, the mallet was heavy. Maybe he could use that.

Well, not now. Now he needed to get out of those pesky ropes because she was making sure to walk on it so he couldn’t just scoot away.

He thrashed against his bindings.

One of his stray kicks managed to knock over a nearby table and a bunch of weird needles rattled across the stone.

Harley gasped and dropped her mallet. A bright smile made her way across her face as she picked up the nearest needle.

He frowned. A tranquilizer? Weird. Why hadn’t they just used that earlier?

He wasn’t given much time to think about it as Harley jumped on top of him and jammed it into his neck.

But, instead of making him feel drowsy, all he could feel was pain. Fire coursed through his veins, and he thrashed around. A scream tore from his throat.

Please make it stop please please please he’d do anything please just make it stop --!

(Tw over <3)

He snapped out of it and wiped the tears from his eyes.

He wasn’t in bed anymore, the only way you could tell he’d ever been in it at all was the bit of blanket wrapped around one of his ankles. The floor was cold beneath him and he breathed out a sigh as he let his hands drop.

And then he realized he wasn’t just on the floor, he was on top of Marinette.

He took in the chunk of hair stuck in one of his hands and the way one of her eyes wouldn’t open behind her Ladybug mask.

She slowly lowered her arms from where they’d been attempting to protect her head. He absolutely hated the way her visible pupil was still dilated with fear, the way she kept her arms in a position where she could quickly get back into a defensive stance.

“Oh my god, Nette, I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t think it would get this bad, I shouldn’t have asked you to --.”

Her hands grabbed the front of his shirt and she pulled him down. Her arms wrapped around him tightly and he tensed up. He’d just attacked her. He didn’t deserve this --.

“It was an accident. And… I summoned a lucky charm when I saw you were starting to thrash a bit. It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”

He felt a sob escape him. He buried his face in her hair, returning her hug.

Even if he didn’t deserve her affections, they did feel pretty good.

~

Marinette sat on the roof as she waited for Adrien to return from his definitely-not-bonding time with Bruce.

She saw their figures appearing over the horizon. She sent a tiny wave to Adrien and went back to messing with her yoyo.

A few minutes later she heard the tiles of the rooftop crunch as he came up next to her. He dropped down beside her.

“M’lady,” he said, a grin evident in his voice.

She looked up at him and saw his eyes widen.

“Holy crap, Nette, I thought you didn’t have patrols tonight. The heck happened?!”

She brought a hand to her eye. It was getting hard to ignore the throbbing at this point. She’d told Tim that she’d used a lucky charm to help alleviate some of the guilt, but damn did she wish she’d thought of that when he’d come at her. Her mind had gone blank the moment she’d seen that Tim was crying. She’d barely even thought of turning into Ladybug so she could at least take the pain better.

It was so… unlike her to not think. She didn’t know if she liked it.

Marinette looked back over the horizon, glaring at nothing in particular. “Tim --.”

He started to get up. “I’ll kill him --.”

She rested a hand over his arm and held him down. She sighed and continued: “-- had a nightmare. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Had a…?” He settled back into his spot beside her, a frown playing across his face. “Oh…”

Silence stretched between the two of them.

She sighed and rested back against the roof, letting her head tip back. “I’m killing Joker.”

His head whipped around to look at her. “You are?”

She nodded.

It wouldn’t fix anything. Tim would continue to struggle, it wouldn’t just go away no matter what Marinette did or whether Joker lived. Only time could really heal him. She knew that.

She gripped her yoyo tighter.

But it would at least make sure no one else had to suffer like that again.

~~~

Next part

Me: oh I shouldn’t do angst it’s a holiday for some peopleeeee!!

Also me: fuck it. It’s angst-giving now.

Taglist

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