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thefrogdalorian · 9 months

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Pieces

Word Count: 3046 Rating: Teen Summary: Your worst fears are almost realised when Din returns from his latest job with the New Republic injured and distressed. Despite your emotions, you diligently tend to his wounds and put his pieces back together. Content Warnings: Descriptions of blood/injuries, mentioned violence against children and non-sexual nudity. Author's Note: Well I got back from my trip late last night and I just needed to get this thing out of me today. I had a great time seeing my friends but man I missed sitting down and writing!! This was meant to be way softer but it went a bit dark with the descriptions of what Din saw, oops. Anyway, I just love writing someone taking care of this poor, stressed man. He deserves everything and I want to squeeze him tightly and rub his scalp just like reader in this fic.

Link to read on AO3

Your heart constricted as you gazed at the torn flesh and thick red liquid that streaked a terrible path down Din’s unusually pale face. The cut just above his eye was, mercifully, not too deep; although, there was still a considerable amount of blood that was flowing from it, disturbed by the Bacta wipe that you had carefully dabbed over the scab that had formed during the hours Din had spent cooped up in a cockpit while returning from his latest job with the New Republic. You shook your head slightly as you took him in, a gesture borne out of both your gratitude that he had not suffered more serious harm and your annoyance that he had even been in such a position in the first place.

Despite your shaky hands as you clasped the wipe tightly between your fingers, you were trying to project calmness for Din. It was proving an increasingly difficult task, given the distressing thoughts that were currently racing through your mind. You knew things could have been worse than just a few superficial cuts and bruises and that you should be grateful above all else. But what if Din had never made it home and instead you had been greeted by the sight of a New Republic pilot in distinctive orange uniform, standing at your door to impart the worst possible news and send your world tumbling down around you in the process? You tried to focus on the task at hand. But it was a dark thought that your brain seemed determined to constantly remind you of, sending a pang of sickness to the pit of your stomach each time.

You had already cleaned several smaller cuts with a Bacta wipe, but now you focused your attention on the largest of them all. It was an angry red mark situated just above Din’s left eyebrow. The sight of it caused your heart to constrict once again at the reminder of the pummelling Din had taken. He was no stranger to physical altercations, that much you knew, but judging by the scant details he had provided you with before you had started treating him, he had been lucky to escape the planet with his life.

You paused your ministrations temporarily; Din looked at you before swiftly averting his gaze once you met it. But you had locked eyes long enough to notice that his brown eyes were misty with an emotion you could not quite place. Din looked embarrassed, apologetic and scared all at once–you wanted to gather him tightly into your arms and never allow him to leave your sight again. He looked so small, so childlike… as though he was just a scared little boy who had taken a beating, not a grown adult man with broad shoulders and a hulking frame that intimidated most people he encountered, with a reputation as a formidable former bounty-hunter. The part of you that urged to hold him tightly was warring with the other part of you that wanted to scream at him until you were blue in the face, furious at how reckless he had been.

Did he not realise how utterly devastated you would be if something happened to him? How lost and afraid Grogu would be? The two of you relied on him so much. You loved him so much… your lives would never be the same if something terrible happened to him. You had been lucky this time that the injuries looked far more serious than they actually were.

Despite how long you had had to adjust to the shock, you could still feel your heart pounding deep inside your chest. Your body had not recovered from the shock of the first glimpse of Din standing there, just standing inside your cabin, having freshly removed his helmet to reveal a sickening array of cuts and bruises that littered his handsome face. Your mouth was dry and it felt like you had a mouthful of Tattooinian sand stuck to your tongue; your pulse boomed in your ears as you finished wiping the cut with trembling fingers.

A natural medic, you were not. But the sight of the man you adored in pain had sent you striding towards the cupboard where Din’s Med kit was stored without hesitation, despite his protestations from behind you that he could take care of himself. You knew that Din was more than capable of tending to his own wounds. After all, he had spent so much of his adult life alone. But that fact did not mean he needed to be a martyr anymore, especially now that he had you.

Din had placed an already-asleep Grogu in his room before he returned to the kitchen and gingerly lowered himself onto a chair at the table while you prepared the materials you would need to care for him properly. Fortunately, you were well stocked-up with Bacta. Its healing properties were infamous across the galaxy. Although it was a precious commodity, with an accompanying hefty price tag, it was a vital resource for someone with as physically demanding a job as Din.

Din had been brave throughout the entire process, but now that you were finally treating the largest and deepest of the myriad cuts he had obtained, the steely mask was starting to slip. Your chest ached as you noticed a single tear streak its way down his cheek, mixing with the thick red blood that had already settled there.

“Din…” You whispered, tenderly cupping his stubbly cheek in your hand. Din further squeezed shut his already closed eyes and exhaled shakily. “I’m almost finished.”

He weakly nodded as you grabbed a Bacta patch from the Med Kit on the table and carefully took it from its wrapping. Din sharply inhaled as you placed it over the sensitive wound, the injury still clearly troubling him despite the careful attention you had focused on the appalling cut.

“There we go. That should get to work quickly,” You offered, despite knowing that Din had far more intimate knowledge of what healing from wounds entailed than you could ever hope to possess.

Din nodded and opened his eyes slowly. But there was no warmth in those brown eyes you loved so much. They were glassy, pained; the crinkles around Din’s eyes and the wrinkles lined his forehead seemed deepened and more drawn than usual, too. A legacy of the agonising ordeal.

“Thank you,” Din whispered. His ordinarily strong, firm voice was now quiet and shaky.

Any desire you had to lecture Din about how reckless he was for endangering himself and remind him of how terrified you were of losing him, was extinguished in an instant. The sight of him before you, broken and subdued had refocused your priorities. The time to discuss the nature of Din’s work and how much it concerned you would come. But, for now, the most important thing was to put the pieces of Din that had clearly been shattered by whatever ordeal he had just experienced back together.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You gently asked, simultaneously not wanting to pry but likewise to give him the opportunity to discuss his feelings.

Din nodded slowly. You reached out and placed your hands on his large hands, stroking them lightly and feeling the soft flesh and dark hairs beneath your fingertips.

“Okay, Din,” You breathed, “I’m here.”

“I was tracking a target on Numidian Prime. He was accused of smuggling weapons for Imperial remnants. It’s a forest planet, plenty of undergrowth for us to hide in,” Din explained, his eyes focused on your joined hands as he struggled to make eye contact. “I thought things would be over relatively quickly. I was gathering intelligence and preparing to strike later. Until… I saw where he was heading.”

“He was armed to the teeth with the weapons. I was supposed only to watch him, but then I saw him approaching a village. It was a tiny settlement, surrounded by plants on all sides. They would have been defenceless… they had no warning. I wasn’t supposed to intervene, the guy was known to be lethal. But, cyare… there were…” Din squeezed his eyes shut again. “There were children, playing outside the huts. I left Grogu in a safe spot, sealed in his pod. Then I went after them. The kids… I had to try and save them,” Din’s voice was quivering now. His eyes flew open, meeting yours. The look in them was chilling: haunted by the sights he had seen. “I was too late,” Din finished the terrible account of affairs. His brown eyes were staring through you, distant.

“Oh, Din,” You whispered, tears forming in your own eyes at his distress.

“After he… had finished with them, he turned around and saw me. I underestimated how well equipped he was. All I could do was turn and run. I got away by a hair’s breadth. Grogu did his best but… my injuries were more than his little body could cope with. What if he had pushed his powers too far? What if it was him in that village?”

“Din, listen to me,” You said firmly, surprised at the strength of your voice. Din’s eyes widened and his eyebrows raised in shock. You grabbed his face in your hands again and stroked his cheeks carefully. “Neither of those things happened. Grogu is safe, sleeping soundly in his cot. Despite the risk you took, you did the right thing. But there was absolutely nothing you could have done. He was an evil man who was hellbent on destruction. He did a terrible thing to innocent people. You are a good man, you tried your best to stop him," You paused, searching Din's face to gauge whether your words were resonating with him. Din nodded slowly in response, so you continued: "But you cannot fix everything in the galaxy. Evil is always going to exist. Thank the Force that the worst did not happen, you got to come home to your home, to your family. I love you so much and Grogu does too. What we would do without you… well, I don’t know. Every time you leave… I fear you will never return. That thought terrifies me. I don’t want to lose you”

Din’s eyes squeezed shut again, tears freely flowing down his cheeks. “I don’t want to leave you,” He sniffled.

“I know, I know,” You soothed, wiping the tears with your thumbs. “Look, it’s been a long day. Let's get you cleaned up in the fresher, then we should get some rest.”

You were both fearful of Din upsetting himself further with such fresh injuries and mindful of the fact he still wore his beskar’gam. Luckily, your gentle suggestion was met with a small nod. You took his gloveless hands and pulled him to his feet, leading him to the fresher.

Din’s hands were shaking and he was struggling with his vambraces. The clasps that he had fastened and unfastened countless times as part of the solemn daily routine of attaching his beskar’gam as a proud Mandalorian were proving problematic after his ordeal.

“Let me,” You said softly, your fingers moving to the clasps to assist him. You moved to his shoulder pauldrons and carefully removed his bandolier and belt before turning your attention to his chest plate. Din nodded in gratitude before he moved to remove the various pieces that remained, now able to move more freely with the top half of his body unencumbered by the heavy, restrictive armour.

While Din removed the final pieces of his armour, you removed your own garments, before you stepped into the shower and turned the jets to the hottest and most powerful settings. The curtain rustled slightly as Din joined you, his body now completely bared to you.

The sight of Din undressed never ceased to take your breath away. His broad shoulders, toned body and waist were certainly a feast for your eyes. But after the arduous day you had endured, there was no sensual element provoked by your nude forms in close proximity.

You took the sponge from the shelf in the shower and ran it under the jets, before lathering it with Din’s favourite scented soap. You motioned for him to step closer and he tentatively approached. Din positioned himself under the hot jets, his broad back facing you. You ran the sponge over the expanse of his tan skin, which had mercifully regained its colour compared to how pale he had looked as you began treating his injuries, watching in awe as his shoulders visibly relaxed. The tension and knots visible in the muscles beneath his skin dissipated with each careful brush of the sponge across his soft skin.

Din sighed deeply, clearly appreciating your ministrations. You were grateful that you could bring him some comfort after everything he had been through. He turned to face you slowly, until he was now facing you. His eyes had regained some of their vibrancy and his face seemed less haunted. Emboldened by how much your touches had seemingly helped Din to regain his spark, you paid similar care to his front, careful to avoid wetting the Bacta patch you had placed on the cut above his eyebrow.

"Turn around and tilt your head back," You instructed, intending to wash Din's hair.

Din complied and you reached for the bottle on the shelf. You squeezed the bottle and the thick, sweet-smelling product he used for his hair emptied into your palms. You rubbed your hands together, creating a lather before you reached your hands into his curls. You ensured the product was evenly spread throughout his hair and raked your nails across his scalp, just the way you knew he liked it.

“Thank you, cyare,” Din practically purred.

“You’re welcome,” You replied, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as he turned to face you once more.

You went to shut off the water but Din’s hand flew out. He gently grabbed your wrist to prevent you from stopping the hot jets raining down on you.

“No, now let me take care of you. Turn around,” Din whispered.

“Din, it’s fine–” You started.

“No,” Din’s low voice cut you off. “You’ve taken care of me enough today. Now it’s my turn to return the favour.”

You rolled your eyes and affectionately scoffed as you complied with his demand. But such a flippant response was soon replaced by a deep, blissful sigh as Din began to take care of you. For such a hulking man who had undergone extensive training as a ruthless warrior he was achingly gentle at times. Din dutifully washed your body, even using his enormous hands to massage your shoulders. Once satisfied with his handiwork, he shut the jets off and grabbed your hand, leading you to the fluffy towels you had placed on the counter.

As the two of you towelled yourselves off, you glanced over at Din and were relieved to see the shift in his demeanour. No doubt the harrowing, emotional sights of the day would take longer to heal than the physical wounds he had sustained. But at least he seemed calmer and closer to the man who had left your cabin for the fateful job on Numidian Prime just a few days ago. Din yawned as he dressed in the soft cotton garments he wore to sleep in and you were grateful that he seemed tired enough to rest.

Din took your hand carefully and you walked together into your room, clambering between the soft sheets of your cot. Din moved to pull you into him, the position you usually took up while sleeping. But you shook your head to stop him.

“Let me hold you,” You whispered into Din’s ear, placing another soft kiss on his cheek. Din nodded and rolled over, his back facing you.

You buried your nose into the short, dark brown curls that lay at the nape of Din’s neck, inhaling his familiar scent as your arms squeezed him tightly, hands joined on his stomach as his larger hands came to rest on yours.

You turned the light off and were about to open your mouth to say goodnight Din’s deep voice rumbled next to you.

“That was my last job with the New Republic,” Din whispered decisively into the darkness. "I won't put you through it anymore. I'm sorry for putting you through it for so long."

You silently thanked Maker that he had reached this decision without need for a grand screaming match where you had to talk sense into him. Din Djarin was not a reckless man when it came to his loved ones. He cared deeply about others. It was precisely that compassionate side of him that you had first fallen for. But it was also the side of him that had come so close to costing you everything.

"Thank you, Din," You said gratefully. "I love you. It has been unpleasant, all the uncertainty. But I will always be here to put you back together, should you ever need me to."

"I don't know what I did to deserve you. I love you more deeply than I ever thought possible," Din said, bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing the back of it softly.

"You deserve everything nice and all the love in this galaxy, Din Djarin," You replied sincerely as you squeezed him tightly.

"Goodnight, cyare," Din said sleepily. The combination of your tight embrace and words had the desired effect and he was already beginning to drift off into slumber.

"Goodnight, Din," You hummed.

You lay there for a few more minutes, feeling completely at peace. You knew that the man that you loved was safe in your arms, content and relaxed about the future.

There would be no more stressful periods of waiting around for Din to return from jobs ahead. No more fearing what terrible sight would greet you when he walked through the door. Din had survived this ordeal without grave injury. The worst had not happened. The worst was not going to happen.

You had a life to look forward to together, yet you were not naive enough to believe that a life with Din Djarin would be a simple one.

Still, you knew you would always be there to put Din's pieces back together.

#my fics #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal characters #idk what writing this today says about my mental state but lets not analyse that rn #ANYWAY DIN DJARIN GETS A HUG EVERYONE CHEERED

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sw33t-d1vine · 8 months

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I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND.

WILLIAM AFTON x GN!READER

— cw : fluff , reader is bad at baking , silly silly..!!!!

— word count , 607

— a/n : hi guys life is kicking me in the butt . sorry for no uploads 😓 anyway , silly question for u all !! what r some other fandoms or interests r u guys into ? im into Genshin , Identity V and spiderman ^_^ !! its just a silly question , id like to know my followers more !! ALSO , this is inspired by n incident that happened to my friend where she cooked cookies in the fucking microwave

・Enjoy what you read ? come join my discord server to see sneak peaks and chat with me and other friends ! Link in my pinned post :)

— Baking was hard, for some reason.

You didn’t do it often, so it definitely was a lot more complicated than it should’ve been. You had to make sure you followed the instructions right and added just the right amount of each ingredient.

Your boyfriend, William Afton, was out. You didn’t have a reason to really make anything for him, you just wanted to. So, you decided to make some chocolate chip cookies.

It was going smoothly. You added all the ingredients correctly, you made sure the batter was stirred right and now you were shaping them into hearts! It was so cute, surely your boyfriend would love them.

Then, the actual baking process came. You had set each of the little heart dough cookies into the plate. You didn’t need the instructions for this, it was obvious on what to do next.

So, you put the plate in the microwave, set the timer, let them sit and left the kitchen, content with what you finished.

You couldn’t wait for the cookies to be done! You knew William had a sweet tooth, especially for cookies and brownies. It was funny, you wouldn’t expect a man like him to really like sweets all that much, but he truly enjoyed them.

As you continued to think of how much William would love the sweets, you suddenly smelt something burning. You paused, sniffing, and furrowing your eyebrows, before sniffing again. It wasn’t until the fire alarm went off that you realized the microwave was on fire.

It was on FIRE.

Immediately running to get a fire extinguisher, you panicked, silently hoping William wouldn’t come home to a microwave on fire.

You returned, using the extinguisher to put out the fire, and letting out a long sigh. You set the extinguisher down, looking at the microwave.

Just as you were about to grab the burnt cookies out of the microwave, you heard a click from the front door.

William was home now, and he let out a tired sigh. Before he could even speak, he smelt the burnt cookies, and raised an eyebrow, walking over to the kitchen. “Darling.. I’m home.” He peaked his head in.

You stood there awkwardly, giving him a small smile as you held the burnt cookies with the mittens. “..Surprise..?”

William narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you shifted your hold on the plate. His eyes looked down at the cookies first, before trailing off to the microwave. “..What happened..?”

“Uhm-“ You set the plate down on the counter, waving the mitten around to clear the air. “..Well, I was trying to make you cookies, but… that didn’t go as planned.” You looked away, cheeks flushing a bright pink in embarrassment.

William looked at you for a long moment, before letting out a laugh. He walked over, “I appreciate that you tried to make me cookies,” He looked closer at the cookies, “But you don’t put them in the microwave.. Not unless they’re intended to be cooked in it, my dear.”

You let out a small, “oh”, shrugging your shoulders. “..I wanted them to be ready before you got here, so I thought the microwave would be quicker than the oven.” You explained, glancing at the microwave. It would be a miracle if it continued to work..

“Ah, well.” William hums, “Why don’t we cook some together? And this time we use the oven?” He teased, which made you grumble and blush. “..Okay.”

The rest of the day was spent making cookies and cleaning up the mess you made. You learnt your lesson and would make sure to never use the microwave for cookies ever again..

#william afton #fnaf #springtrap #five nights at freddys #fnaf william afton #william afton x reader #william afton x you #springtrap x reader #five nights at freddy's

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formulauno98 · 1 year

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Once Upon a Time in France | Chapter Eight

You finally had some time alone with your beau but things were almost too perfect, it was inevitable that they were going to unravel.

Word Count: 11.1k

Warnings: This chapter is spicy spice. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys and girls) 🌶

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe. Sorry for the incredibly long hiatus, Chapter 9 will be up asap.

SUNDAY PM

Flying Easyjet from London Luton to Nice reminded you exactly how lucky you were to have the luxury of frequently flying privately. Although a short flight, you found yourself squeezed between two businessmen, each off-putting for their own reasons and you found yourself counting down the minutes until landing. The man to the left of you, who had the honour of having the window seat, was watching a movie on his iPad. No big deal you would think, except for the fact that he was watching it on speaker mode and it had some dubious bedroom scenes. To your right, on the aisle seat, was another suited and booted older man. On spotting you were his seat neighbour he’d proceeded to try and chat you up, not taking the hint that you weren’t in the slightest bit interested.

Glancing at your watch you saw there were only twenty minutes left, the crew would be preparing for landing any minute now. Toto had offered to collect you from the airport and you were looking forward to spending some real time with him, away from the race track and more importantly, away from prying eyes.

– – –

The plane having landed on time, you made it through security in record timing and had even had the luxury of your luggage coming out of the carousel first. As you made your way into Arrivals you were suddenly nervous, you were going to spend a week alone with Toto. Although you worked together and were constantly stealing moments, you hadn’t spent an extended amount of time with just the two of you and you hoped that things would not be awkward.

Making your way through the throng of people standing waiting outside customs you spotted Toto in a flash, his imposing height always a dead giveaway. He flashed a charming grin as you approached him, bending down to plant a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“How was the flight?” he asked, as he took your large suitcase and large Longchamp tote off of your hands, “Jessas Maria, what do you have in this, bricks?”

Laughing you replied, “Make-up, shampoo, the essentials. And it was okay thanks, I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

Toto shook his head, “You and your essentials. Not at all, I’ve only been here a few minutes, it was perfect timing. I parked just outside, do you want to go?”

Following Toto as he started to make a move you couldn’t stop smiling. It was kind of him to come and collect you from the airport as it was always a hassle, no matter where you were in the world.

“Excuse me, Toto?” a voice called out from your right-hand side. It was the sleazy man from the plane.

Toto whipped his head around, “Hi, can I help you?”

“Well, I just wanted to say I’m a big fan. Could I please take a photo?” the man got closer, “I was sitting next to your wife on the plane.” He grinned at you hopefully.

“My wife?” said Toto, raising an eyebrow, “Y/N is my colleague.”

The man’s face reddened, “Oh, I see. I’m sorry, I saw you kiss her so thought you were married…” he proceeded to turn to you “You didn’t seem interested on the plane so I put two and two together.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” you smiled politely, not wanting to embarrass Toto, always mindful that one bad fan encounter could end up flashed across the news.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your day,” he replied, taking out his phone and standing next to Toto, still hopeful for a selfie. Laden down with your baggage Toto stood there awkwardly as the man struggled to fit him in frame.

“Could you possibly take the photo for me?” he asked you.

“Of course,” you said, again with a neutral smile.

You took a few, trying to make sure your tote bag was out of frame just in case anyone from the team were to see and handed the phone back.

“Amazing, thank you so much,” the man said.

“You’re welcome, nice to meet you,” said Toto with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, sending the man off on his merry way.

As you crossed the street to the car park you turned to Toto. “He was such a creep on the plane, he kept asking for my number.”

Toto grimaced, “I could tell, he was staring at you. His eyes lit up when I said you weren’t my wife.”

“Odd,” you said as you followed Toto towards his car, a surprisingly nondescript GLC, Toto looked troubled. “Y/N.”

“Yes,” you replied, curious about what he was about to ask.

“Does that always happen to you?”

“What?”

“Men hitting on you?”

“Why?”

“Just curious,” he said, setting your bag down on top of your suitcase as he unlocked the car.

You couldn’t help but smile as you clocked that it wasn’t any old GLC, but a top-of-the-range AMG line one. Of course, Toto would choose that.

“This is nice, where have you been hiding this?” You said as you settled into the luxurious quilted leather passenger seat.

“It’s actually not mine, they are letting me try it for the weekend,” Toto said looking shifty as he slid into the driver's seat beside you.

“Trying to impress me with a rental Mr Wolff?” You laughed, grabbing his hand playfully.

“Is it working?” He replied with a smirk, reaching across to caress your face lightly, “I’ve missed you Y/N.”

“I’ve missed you too.” You said fondly, turning towards him for a sneaky kiss, aware that although you were not at work, you were very much out in the open in the airport car park.

A classic man, Toto was not on the same wavelength about discretion and passionately cupped your face, drawing you in for a deeper kiss before breaking apart and adding breathily, “I’ve missed this.”

Blushing, you replied, “Me too. It was a long week without you.”

“Tell me about it,” said Toto, squeezing your knee gently before turning back towards the steering wheel “Shall we make a move?”

“Sounds good to me,” you said with a smile. You were finally alone with Toto, mostly away from prying eyes and able to gauge what to make of this budding relationship.

– – –

As you sped along the coastal road towards Monaco you glanced out of the window at the sparkling blue sea below. You flew through the sleepy fishing port of Villefranche-sur-Mer, the hillside retreat of Eze and the luxurious town of Cap d’Ail in record timing, listening to the dulcet tones of French radio and Toto’s local tour guide titbits along the way.

The reason why you had this time in Monaco was to oversee another Drive to Survive shoot with Toto. The production crew wanted to spend time with him in his hometown, away from the hustle and bustle of a race weekend. You’d told Sophie to tell the company travel agent that you were staying with a friend in Monaco, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

As you started the ascent into Monaco, through the winding network of underground tunnels you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to the first time you’d come here. It was your third race with the team and your first sponsor dinner and had been the beginning of the end when it came to your feelings for Toto. As soon as you set eyes on him, waiting in your hotel lobby, dressed up for the evening, you were instantly smitten.

It wasn’t long before you reached an imposing apartment building overlooking the wide expanse of beach. Toto slowed down, indicating to turn down what looked like a dead end.

“Is this going to be some kind of supervillain lair?” you said with a laugh.

Smirking, Toto reached for his key fob and pushed a button, “Perhaps…”

Your eyes lit up as what looked like a wall opened up to reveal a neat underground parking garage. “Okay, you were not playing.”

“Of course not,” Toto said with a smile, driving into the gap that had just appeared as if by magic.

“So this is where you live huh?” you said curiously, eyeing up the impressive row of cars parked in the garage.

“Yes, I live in this car park,” said Toto with a deadpan face.

“Very funny,” you said.

Toto smiled before frowning slightly, his brow furrowing, “However, I would like to forewarn you, I have not done much with the place. It came furnished so I didn’t see the point of spending more money on furniture I barely use.”

Surprised by Toto’s admission you smiled, “I’m sure it’s beautiful, and I’m here to see you, not judge you on your interior design skills. That will be my next visit.”

Toto laughed as he parked the car effortlessly, pulling up in between two cars that were hidden under fabric covers yet suspiciously sports car shaped. “Okay, well I hope you will visit again after this one.”

‘Let’s see.” you said, waggling your eyebrow at Toto before hopping out of the now stationary car.

“You are awful sometimes,” he said, rushing around to open the boot and retrieve your luggage.

“Thank you, Toto,” you said, smiling up at your tall beau as he set your suitcase gently down on the concrete floor.

Just as you made to grab the handle, he batted your hand away, “Let me take it, it’s heavy.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, knowing full well he would not allow you to carry your own luggage.

Your response was met with a raised eyebrow as Toto closed the boot, scooped up your tote and rolled your suitcase towards a small door to the left of where you were parked.

Crossing into a compact but luxe lift lobby Toto pressed his key fob to a panel and the lift pinged.

“Let me guess, this is your own private lift?” you said, following him into the small space.

“Well it’s convenient,” he said sheepishly.

“Okay Mr Bigshot,” you said with a smile. It was easy to forget just how wealthy Toto was at times.

Now his turn to blush, Toto added, “I hope you don’t find it ostentatious. I bought it for the view.”

Just as you were about to ask what the view was, your question was answered. The lift door opened to reveal a spacious living area, furnished very tastefully in cream and blue, a nod to the nautical location. The back wall of the room was entirely glass, opening out onto a sweeping balcony with a panoramic view of the sea.

“Well, I can see why!” You exclaimed, taking a step into the living area, “It’s beautiful Toto.”

Looking relieved, Toto followed you out of the lift, placing his hand on the small of your back, “It’s not bad. Let me show you around. I want you to feel at home here.”

You smiled, “I’m sure that will be a struggle.”

– – –

Toto proceeded to show you around his surprisingly spacious bachelor pad. There was another sitting area to the side of the one the lift had brought you into, cosier with a large TV and an L-shaped sofa decked out with blankets and pillows, perfect for a movie night. He had a small but well-stocked kitchen diner with a large marble island in the middle that looked out onto the sea, and more glass walls that opened out onto an outdoor barbecue area.

There was also a formal dining room, a very impressive corner office with yet more glass and two ensuite guest bedrooms for his children. Just as you were starting to wonder where Toto’s bedroom was, your question was answered as he took you up a small set of stairs to a second floor. This wasn’t just any apartment, this was a duplex.

Toto’s bedroom had the best view of all, perched higher than the other rooms, you could see the entire expanse of the bay, from Monte Carlo to Roquebrune Cap Martin. His bed was simple but cloud-like, with white-striped hotel-esque sheets and fluffy pillows. And best of all, he had a large bathtub at one end, ideally placed to soak and enjoy the view.

“Toto, your place is insane.” You said as he opened up a set of doors to reveal another small terrace, this time furnished with two daybeds and a telescope.

“Thank you… I think.” He said, “As I said, it needs a woman’s touch, it came with all of this furniture and I didn’t change much.”

You laughed, “Honestly, I wouldn’t have changed anything, whoever designed it had excellent taste.”

“Well I’m glad you like it, I’d like to spend more time here with you.” He said, wrapping his arm around your waist, “Do you want to grab a bite to eat? Or we can have something simple and eat in?”

Tired from your flight you were glad he was open to staying in, “Maybe tonight we stay in and then I’ll be fresh for tomorrow?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Toto, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I have everything we’d need for a charcuterie board, or I can cook a steak frites?”

“Ooh, you’re so fancy with your charcuterie boards…” you laughed, cuddling up to the tall Austrian, “I’m happy with either, I’m intrigued actually by the charcuterie board.”

“Intrigued? It’s ham and cheese with some grapes.” He replied with a laugh, “I have baguette too.”

“Are you propositioning me?” You laugh.

“Maybe, would you like that?” He said, with a growl, grabbing your ass cheek as you made your way down the stairs towards the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t mind.” You said, turning to face him.

“Well, it would be rude not to then.” He said and in one deft movement, picked you up, carried you all the way to the kitchen, placing your legs akimbo on the kitchen island.

For once the height difference worked, with Toto barely having to bend down to meet your lips with his, feverishly running his hands up and down your thighs and beyond.

Deepening the kiss, you ran your hands up and down Toto’s back, bringing him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and feeling him growing increasingly harder.

Breaking the kiss and coming up for air, you caressed Toto’s cheek lightly, “Will you fuck me right here?”

Toto’s eyes narrowed with lust, wordlessly answering you as he unbuckled his chinos, pushed your panties to one side and pushed his cock into you mercilessly.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, still not fully used to his impressive size.

Toto’s demeanour switched instantly, his eyes transforming from lust to concern as he stilled inside you, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I got carried away.”

“Oh my gosh, don’t be silly, you’re just big!” You said, meeting him once more for a kiss.

“Well please tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop,” he said, his brown eyes crinkled with kindness.

“Deal.” You said, kissing him once more before adding, “But please for God’s sake move.”

“If you’re sure?” He said, raising an eyebrow as he gently pulled out and pushed back in, “Is this okay?”

“Now that is perfect.” You said, “Keep doing that.”

Toto continued to thrust into you, first of all with slow, shallow strokes, before switching up to a more rapid pace of deep and forceful fucking.

“Fuck, Toto, keep doing that and I’m almost there.” You exclaimed after one particularly head-spinning thrust.

“Mmm.” He said as he grabbed your breast in one hand and reached down with the other to draw circles on your clit, continuing to pump in and out.

“Fuck, Toto.” was all you managed to get out as he took you almost to the brink. It wasn’t long before you were seeing stars, and experiencing one of the most intense orgasms of your life. As you came around his cock, Toto slowed down, mindful that once again you were being reckless and fucking without protection.

“Come on, I want you to cum too.” You said, mindful that he was near.

“But we need to be careful Y/N. I’m not as young as I was and I worry I can’t pull out in time.” Toto said, stilling inside you, coming to his senses.

“Well then, maybe you can cum somewhere else.” You said with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Oh really?” Toto said, still containing to lazily thrust in and out.

Shifting back, you pulled away from Toto, letting his cock fall out of you. Hopping down from the counter, you turned him around so that his back was now facing the counter, bending to take him in your mouth.

“Mmm,” you said as you struggled to fit it all in, gripping the base with one hand as you ran your tongue up and down.

“Hang on, do you want to move? This can’t be comfortable for you.” Said Toto, ever the worrier.

“Maybe to the couch?” You suggested as you came up for air and eyed up the white linen sofa in the corner of the kitchen.

“Perfect.” Said Toto, once again scooping you up in his arms and carrying you across the room. This time, however, he took a seat on the sofa, allowing you to perch on your knees in front of him.

“Mmm,” you said as you took his cock once again in your mouth, “This is much better.”

Toto groaned as you continued sucking and swirling and caressing his balls with one hand as you bobbed up and down.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close.” Exclaimed Toto, “Fuck, I’m going to cum!”

He was clearly trying to be a gentleman and pull out but you were determined to swallow so you doubled down with your tongue, hoping he would let loose. Sure enough, he pumped into your mouth, leaving you gagging slightly.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that was a lot,” he said, rubbing his forehead as if he was back on planet Earth.

Wiping your mouth, you made your way back up onto the sofa, draping yourself across his chest as he tucked his cock back into his chinos.

“Don’t be silly, I wanted to do it.” you said, “Although we are both way too clothed for my liking.”

“But isn’t that half of the fun?” said Toto with a smirk. “Now when I look at my island I’ll think of you.”

You laughed, “Damn, why did we not do that at mine so I can do the same?”

“Well you can think of me when you use your closet.” replied Toto, getting up to move, “Now, I know you’ve just eaten but let’s get some food.”

“Jesus, what a line boss.” you said, rolling your eyes at him, following suit and getting up from the sofa “As long as I can have the other baguette you promised?”

MONDAY AM

Following on from your racy kitchen island encounter, you’d had your charcuterie board (which didn’t disappoint), unpacked your suitcase into Toto’s half-empty closet, watched a movie (Fast and Furious of course,) and then spent the night cuddled up to Toto in his supremely comfortable bed.

Waking up to the spectacular view you couldn’t believe that he so frequently chose to spend time in Oxfordshire over here.

“Toto, can I ask you something?” you said as you felt him stir beside you.

“Hmmm five minutes,” he said sleepily, turning the pillow back over his head.

You shook your head, still surprised by how much of a sleepyhead the seemingly regimented Team Principal secretly was. Trying your best not to wake him, you snuck out of bed, grabbing your trusty waffle bathrobe and padded down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

You’d barely been in there five minutes when a boxer-clad Toto emerged down the stairs, his hair rumpled with sleep and eyes screwed up as if he was barely awake.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” you said, “Do you want a tea or coffee?”

“Morning beautiful,” he said, making his way over to you to kiss you, “I’ll make a coffee don’t worry. I have some breakfast things too if you want.”

“Ah no worries, I’m happy with tea for now,” you said, cosying up to him before breaking free to pour your tea.

“Are you sure?” he said, as he busied himself making a coffee.

“Yeah, I’m not a big breakfast eater.”

“Hold on, I make you eat breakfast all the time, even in Austria,” he said, looking slightly horrified. “Are you just being polite?”

“No, I like it, I just never have time so have got used to not eating it. It’s a treat when we have our breakfast meetings,” you said, hoping to appease him.

“I’m not sure if I would call Austria a breakfast meeting,” he said with a smirk.

“Well, I can’t say I do those kinds of meetings with anybody else,” you replied, settling onto the stool at the kitchen island.

“Me neither,” Toto replied, as he poured his coffee.

“You know the team are onto you though,” you said, deciding now was the time to broach what Olivia had brought up in the motorhome in Austria.

“What do you mean?” said Toto, his head whipping around, now fully awake.

“Olivia overheard you telling Lewis about a new lady friend.”

Toto looked blindsided, “What did she overhear?”

Smiling, you decided to tell half the truth, “Just that you were seeing someone. I’m hoping you were talking about me, otherwise, this is hella awkward.”

Realisation dawned on Toto, “Oh, Lewis was asking me the other day. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have told him anything but he noticed I seemed happier and asked me outright if I had a new girlfriend.”

“Well I do feel guilty that George knows and he doesn’t.” you said, “I still wish Lara didn’t but I guess these things happen.”

Toto looked deep in thought, “Lewis doesn’t know it’s you. I just told him I’d met someone. I wouldn’t jeopardise your position in the team like that.”

“No no, don’t worry about it, Toto. I think it wasn’t ideal that Olivia overheard but again, these things can’t be helped,” you said, reaching over to squeeze Toto’s hand as he sat down beside you at the kitchen island.

“Indeed, but the rest of the team have noticed?” Toto said, looking deep in thought as he sipped his coffee.

“Oh don’t worry, they were all tipsy after Austria and speculating.” you paused, deciding whether or not it was a good idea for you to tell Toto about what Lara had said but decided ultimately it was not worth it, “It was nothing serious.”

“Ok, I trust your judgement on this. Just let me know if anything does get tricky,” he said reassuringly.

– – –

Having spent the morning working from one of Toto’s spare rooms and trying your best to avoid any video calls with anyone who would clock where you were, lunchtime had crept up. Toto had promised to take you to one of his favourite casual eateries if you both had time and thankfully it was looking likely that you would.

You were composing one last email when Toto came looking for you, having been working himself in his office.

“I hope you’re not working too hard,” he said as he stood behind you, rubbing your shoulders.

“You say that, but if I sacked off work, you’d notice,” you said, typing your sign-off and pressing send.

“That’s true, and that’s why you're my favourite Director of Communications,” he replied with a smirk.

“I’m the only Director of Communications,” you said, rolling your eyes and standing up to face Toto, “Do you want to go and grab some lunch?”

“For sure, we can go to the pizza place I know if you’d like?” said Toto, placing his hands on your waist, swaying your hips slightly.

“Sounds good to me, although you’re being very distracting,” you said, leaning into his broad chest.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to do, distract you from work,” he said, leaning down to kiss you.

“You are a terrible boss.” you said, kissing him back with enthusiasm, “And if you don’t stop distracting me, we’re never going to leave this room, let alone your house.”

“That’s true.” he said with a smirk, “Come on then, let’s go.”

– – –

Sitting down at the small table set for two in Toto’s chosen restaurant, you were acutely aware that this was the first time you’d gone out together as a couple, and not for something work-related. Sensing your awkwardness, Toto smiled at you from across the table, taking your hand in his reassuringly.

“Don’t look so nervous Y/N, I’m the same guy you were just kissing all but ten minutes ago,” he said.

“I’m not nervous, it’s just weird to be out like this,” you said, glancing around you as if you were half expecting the team or some journalist to jump out.

“Look, we’re doing this, and if someone sees us, so be it and we can say it’s a meeting if you feel more comfortable?” Toto said, his face etched with concern.

“No, it’s not like that. I’m happy to be out.” you said, squeezing Toto’s hand, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Me too,” said Toto, looking at you with the piercing glare you’d grown so fond of. “I think we should probably take a look at these menus, no?”

“Ooh yes, it all looks good though, what do you recommend?” you said, sneaking a look around at your fellow diners’ tables.

“Do you trust me to order for us?” asked Toto, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” you said, without batting an eyelid.

WEDNESDAY PM

The last two days with Toto had been bliss. Since your casual lunch date, you’d been out twice more, once for dinner, followed by a beach walk and once for brunch. It was official, you were dating for real. You were well aware of the stares that followed Toto wherever he went but thankfully, people in Monaco seemed relatively unbothered and there had only been one incident where a woman had rushed up and asked for a photo on the beach.

So far, the majority of the team remained unaware of your blossoming relationship and as much as you adored Toto, you felt it was wiser to keep it lowkey for now.

Toto was spending the morning filming with the Drive to Survive crew, this time, driving them around Monaco in his prized 300SL. Thankfully this meant that space was limited and you hadn’t had to ride along. You had, however, popped around to Lewis’ to go through press commitments.

When you had first accepted this role, you never in a million years would have dreamt that you would end up casually popping over to Lewis Hamilton’s house but life sometimes works in mysterious ways. At least that’s what you told yourself as you rang the buzzer at the bottom of his building, humorously labelled as “Roscoe,” after his beloved pet bulldog.

“Hey Y/N, it’s open come up!” came a voice through the loudspeaker. Lewis was an interesting character, who for all his fame and fortune, remained incredibly down to earth.

“Coming!” you said as you dashed through the unlocked door to the lift lobby. Like Toto, Lewis also had his own private lift, something that you were starting to learn was not uncommon in this funny little country full of far too rich people.

Making your way up, you glanced down to check your phone, half expecting to have heard from Pete, your Netflix nemesis, that Toto was being difficult. Thankfully there was radio silence, which you took to mean good news.

Soon enough you reached Lewis’ floor and the doors pinged open to reveal the enigmatic racing driver waiting for you.

“Hey! Long time no see!” he said warmly, stretching out his arms for a hug.

“Hey Lewis, I know it’s been a while. How’s everything?” you asked.

“I’m good thanks, just got back from a run.” he replied, “How are you? Enjoying Monaco?”

“Nice,” you said, glancing around at your surroundings. Lewis’ home was much more understated than Toto’s and you could tell that he was much younger from his decor choices. There was a life-sized Star Wars figurine in one corner and huge canvases and movie posters adorning the walls as far as the eye could see. “I’m good thanks, it’s been quite hectic but it’s good to get out here early. Toto is filming with Netflix again.”

“Glad to hear it, I hope Toto has been showing you around town?” Lewis said, before adding, “Can I get you a drink or anything?”

Smiling as you thought to yourself of the places Toto had shown you, you replied tactfully, “Yes, he’s shown me a few places. Maybe a cup of tea would be nice if you have one?”

“I’ve always got a cuppa!” said Lewis with a wink, “Come with me, let’s chat in the kitchen.”

Following Lewis down a short corridor, he brought you through into a small kitchen area, dark grey with black marble countertops, most definitely a bachelor pad.

“Ooh this is nice,” you said, “How long have you lived here?”

“Ah thank you, oh gosh like ten years?” replied Lewis, busying himself filling the kettle.

“Oh wow, ages then,” you replied, getting your laptop and notebook out to go through your agenda. “So where is good to run around here?”

“Ah there are so many coastal paths, I like the one just North of the harbour. It’s less hilly if you want to push.” he said, “Do you take milk and sugar?”

“That sounds cool, Toto hasn’t shown me those yet, I’ll have to get him on that!” you said, slightly forgetting that Lewis wasn’t fully aware of the extent of your relationship, “And just milk, please. Thanks so much.”

“Y/N. Can I ask you something?” said Lewis, suddenly turning to face you, his chocolate-brown eyes full of curiosity.

“Sure, what’s up?” you said, knowing what was coming next.

“Are you Toto’s new girlfriend?”

“Well…” you began, not sure what the best course of action was, not having discussed this with Toto.

“Knew it!” said Lewis, a broad grin breaking out across his face.

“Hey! I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to, your eyes betrayed you. I knew it, the way he looks at you.” Lewis said, somewhat smugly.

“Okay, well, girlfriend is a stretch, we are just at the very beginning of something. So I would appreciate it if you keep it to yourself,” you said, hoping that he would get the memo.

“Of course, I’m just happy for you.” Lewis said, “And for Toto, he’s been such a work robot these last few years, I’m always telling him to put himself out there.”

“Thank you, Lewis, I appreciate that,” you said smiling as he set a cup of tea down in front of you.

“What I wanna know is, how did it start? Who rizzed up who?” Lewis said, settling beside you with a cheeky glint in his eye, cup of tea at the ready.

“Oh my God, go ask Toto!” you said, laughing at Lewis’ gossipy tendencies.

“Ok, I will.” he said “I bet it was you. He’s weirdly shy.”

“Lewis!” you exclaimed, before sighing. “It was kind of me.”

“What do you mean, kind of?” he asked.

Sighing once again, you decided to tell the truth, “Right, please do not tell Toto I told you this. After the boat race in Canada, I went to his room to return his shirt I borrowed and one thing led to another.”

Lewis’s face was a picture, eyes wide and mouth open, “Oh my God, that’s why you didn’t come for dinner!?”

Giggling slightly you nodded, “Yup.”

“This is juicy.” he said, “Does anyone else know?”

“A few people have accidentally found out.”

“Oh my God, who?”

“You are such a gossip hound Lewis!” you said, taking a sip of tea, “George, Rosie and Lara.”

“George knows! Fuck I’m going to have words with him. How long has he known?” Lewis said, clearly put out that his younger teammate had gossip that he hadn’t.

“A few weeks, and don’t, I think he’s scarred for life.”

“Oh my God, did he walk in on you?”

“Not exactly...” you said, still cringing as you thought about what George and Rosie had overheard.

“I wanna know so bad!” said Lewis.

“He phoned Toto while we were together and Toto didn’t hang up properly so George and Rosie overheard everything that was going on.”

At this Lewis almost fell off of his stool, “No way! That’s hilarious. I bet they were so embarrassed, oh to be a fly on that wall.”

“Poor kids are scarred for life,” you said.

“So what about Lara, how does she know? I’m surprised she’s kept quiet, she loves gossip that girl.”

“Oh she’s trickier, she walked in on us in Toto’s office… and before you say anything I was just kissing him, nothing crazy. She went mental though and ever since keeps dropping hints to people. I thought Toto was going to fire her on the spot, he was livid at what she said.”

“Really?” asked Lewis, “Livid Toto is not someone I’d want to cross.”

“Yep, me neither,” you said, thinking back to the tense conversation in Toto’s office.

“So this is very exciting.” said Lewis, sipping his tea once again, “As I said, I’m happy for you both.”

“Thanks, Lewis, I appreciate it,” you said with a smile, “Right, shall we go through these notes?”

– – –

You’d just finished reviewing Lewis’ upcoming schedule when your phone buzzed.

Y/N, we’re done, are you still at Lewis’?

It was Toto. Hurriedly you typed a reply.

Yes but just finished, shall I meet you at yours?

“I know who’s got you smiling like that…” said Lewis, wagging his tongue suggestively.

“You’re terrible Lewis. I’d love for you to tease Toto in the same way.”

“I’m definitely not going to tease him, dude’s punching. You’re the one I worry for.”

“Somehow I don’t think so,” you said.

“Honestly, you’re a catch. He’s a lucky guy,” he said, his tone more serious.

“Well let’s see,” you said, just as your phone buzzed once more.

I’ll come and meet you, I’m nearby and I want to see Lewis.

Gulping slightly as this meant that Toto would immediately find out you’d blabbed to Lewis, you typed out your reply.

Sure, I’ll wait here.

“Is it okay if I hang out here for a bit? Toto said he wants to see you and will come and collect me.”

“Course, how romantic, he’s coming to pick you up!” said Lewis.

“Oh my god, one more word and I will arrange endless foreign language interviews for you at the next race.”

“Cool, I’ll download Duolingo,” said Lewis, nonchalantly shrugging.

“I mean it Mr Hamilton.” you said, “This is the danger zone.”

Fortunately, Lewis was saved by the bell as his intercom rang out.

“Hello Lewis, it’s Toto, can I come up?” came a deep voice through the speaker.

“Sure, I’ll buzz you through, boss,” said Lewis, winking at you.

“One word.” you mouthed silently.

“I’m just kidding Y/N. I’m scared of Toto man,” he said, hopping down from the stool and making his way back towards the lift door where Toto would be emerging any minute.

Deciding to follow Lewis, you arrived in the corridor just as the doors opened to reveal your handsome boyfriend.

“Lewis!” he said, scooping the diminutive racing driver into a bear hug. “How are you?”

“Good man, and you?” Lewis replied.

“I’m okay thanks, I just finished filming and thought I’d come and check-in. Y/N, how are you?”

Toto made his way towards you and bent down for a very chaste kiss on the cheek. Sensing your face betraying you and blushing, you couldn’t look Lewis in the eye as you replied, “Good thanks, how was it?”

“As good as it could be,” said the Austrian wryly. “So, Lewis, the reason I came over was there is something I need to tell you. I always like to be transparent with you and wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Hold up big man.” said Lewis, “I think I can guess.”

Toto raised his eyebrow, looking across at you quizzically. “Oh really?”

“Yes. It’s pretty obvious.”

“What is?”

“That your new girlfriend is someone who works with us.”

Toto looked floored by Lewis’ admission. “Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Is it that obvious?”

“The way she looks at you man, like you’re a piece of meat,” said Lewis.

“Huh?” said Toto, clearly confused.

“Lara, she’s down bad.”

“Lara? No not Lara,” said Toto, getting flustered. “Why would you think I’m dating Lara?”

Lewis burst out laughing, unable to keep stringing Toto along, “I’m just messing. I know it’s Y/N.”

Relief poured over Toto’s face, “How did you know?”

“Toto…” you started.

“I just found out, I asked Y/N straight up and she’s a really bad liar,” said Lewis. “Look, I’m not going to tell anyone and I’m happy for you both.”

“Oh…” said Toto, taken aback that you’d beaten him to it, “Well thank you, Lewis.”

Shimmying over towards Toto, you put an arm around his waist protectively, “Sorry Toto, he called me out almost immediately.”

“I know what he’s like, believe me!” said Toto, throwing a glance over at Lewis.

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” said Lewis, shrugging his shoulders. “So what do you two lovebirds have planned now?”

“We’re going to collect our luggage and drive down to France,” said Toto, clutching you close by his side.

“Are we?” you said, not aware that this is what Toto had planned.

“Ooh a surprise, how romantic!” exclaimed Lewis, clapping his hands together, “Right, well then you two gotta go!”

Toto laughed, “We should. Thank you Lewis and I appreciate your discretion.”

“Of course boss!” said Lewis, saluting Toto as you both made your way into the lift, back down to the street level.

“See you on Friday Lewis!” you said, blowing a kiss at the affable racing driver.

“See you!” he said, waving as the lift doors closed softly. “And use protection!”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to Toto, “Sorry he really pressed me.”

“It’s okay Y/N, I knew he would.” Toto said, stroking your hair absentmindedly, “Sorry I didn’t discuss telling him with you first, but I felt guilty knowing George knows and he doesn’t.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s fine. And you’re right, it’s not fair for one to know and one to be in the dark.”

“That was my reasoning. How was Lewis? Apart from the gossiping?”

“He’s good, I think he’s knackered from all the travelling though. How was the filming?”

“I can understand that. It went well, I think. I wish you could have been there but they didn’t ask anything too difficult.”

“Good, I haven’t heard anything from Pete so I thought as much. I’ll let you know when the rushes come over for approval.”

Toto smiled, “Thank you. I forgot how much you love Pete.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yes, my bestie. So not to stop talking shop but where are you taking me?”

“Now that’s for me to know and you to find out,” said Toto, a mischievous glint in his eye.

– – –

Having gathered some of your luggage, with Toto insisting on you leaving some clothes behind at his, you were now barrelling along the Autoroute towards the Circuit Paul Ricard. As careful as he was in daily life, Toto was a speed demon on the roads, especially in the GLC that wasn’t his.

“So where are we staying?” You asked, still surprised that Toto had decided to go astray from his normally strict race week schedule.

“Wait and see.” He said with a grin, turning up the volume on the radio.

“You’re so annoying,” you moaned, making Toto grin even wider.

“I promise it’s worth the wait,” he said.

“That’s a big promise, Toto,” you said, side-eyeing him from the passenger seat.

“Do you know what else is big?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. You are such a child.” you groaned, “Although don’t get cocky but I’m a little sore from last night.”

“Oh really?” Toto’s head whipped around.

“Hey, eyes on the road Mr!” you said, “But yes, a little.”

“Well I don’t want to hurt you,” said Toto.

“It doesn’t hurt, I just feel stretched,” you said, “I was having trouble hiding it in front of Lewis.”

Toto smirked, obviously pleased with himself, “Did he notice?”

“No, he was too busy trying to grill me on everything.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Not much, as much as we told George and Rosie.”

“Good, I won’t live it down if he knows anything juicy.”

“I figured that,” you said, fidgeting in your seat, hoping that Toto wouldn’t be annoyed that you had told Lewis a few titbits. “I don’t want to be a backseat driver but isn’t that the turning?” you said, noticing that Toto had just sped past the exit for the circuit.

“It is, but we’re going somewhere else first.” He said, his face blank, not betraying a single thing.

“This is all very mysterious.” You said, glancing around, trying to guess where you might be off to.

“Don’t panic, we won’t be far,” Toto said, roughly grabbing your thigh before taking the next exit. The road was narrow and twisting and it wasn’t long before it turned into a steep hill.

“Sheesh, this is not what I was expecting.” You said, scared to look as Toto navigated the road at quite some speed.

“It’s not long now, don’t worry.” He said, taking another sudden turn.

“I’m not worried, I’m just wondering where you’re taking me.” You said as the road brought you towards a small cluster of traditional stone buildings. It was all very pretty and you hoped that wherever you were staying looked like this.

You weren’t to be in luck however as Toto sped through the village, taking you back onto a hedge-lined country road, although it wasn’t long before he suddenly started slowing down, as if he was looking for somewhere.

“Ah yes, this is the one,” he said, indicating down a dubious-looking dirt track.

“If I didn’t know you better, this really feels like a K and R.” You said laughing.

“Damn, you got me,” Toto said laughing as he slowed right down, the car jumping up and down on the bumpy earth track.

“Ooh, are you going to tie me up?” You said, grabbing Toto’s thigh gently.

“You’re into that?” Said Toto, an eyebrow raised, eyes still scouring the road.

“Not really. I’m Miss Vanilla.” You said laughing, “But if you are, maybe you can convert me.”

“No no that’s not for me either,” Toto said, shaking his head before taking another turn off to the right, revealing a large country house that seemingly appeared from nowhere.

“Ooh, this is beautiful!” You said, eyeing up the building before you, blue shutters twinkling in the sun.

“Don’t get too excited, we’re staying in another building.” Said Toto, pulling up the car in the expansive driveway and unbuckling his seatbelt, “Stay here a second, I just need to go and meet the owner.”

“Sure.” You said, curiosity peaked as Toto made his way into the impressive building.

Twiddling your thumbs in the car, you decided to take out your phone and check for messages, a force of habit. Of course, you had zero signal. Hoping that your team would survive until you had wifi you put it away, patiently waiting for Toto to return.

Ten minutes later, he emerged grinning, followed closely by a jovial-looking older gentleman and a small fluffy white dog. Deciding now was the time to get out of the car, you emerged awkwardly, waiting for an introduction.

“Y/N, this is Monsieur de la Tour, he owns the vineyard.” said Toto with a grin, “Monsieur de la Tour, je vous presente Y/N.”

“Enchanté, Monsieur de la Tour,” you spluttered out, desperately trying to remember your French.

“Lovely to meet you too Y/N,” replied the man in perfect English, “Let me show you both around.”

Grateful that he at least spoke English, you moved to Toto’s side to follow Monsieur de la Tour through a small archway that led you through to a garden. Plants and flowers spilt everywhere you look, twisting around a pergola overhead and bursting out of terracotta pots.

“This is gorgeous.” You said quietly to Toto, his arm draped across your shoulders.

“I’m glad you like it.” He said, his expression unreadable.

You followed Monsieur de la Tour through the garden along a small walkway towards another building. Although smaller than the main house, it was very pretty, with matching blue shutters and vibrant pink bougainvillaeas creeping up the stone walls.

“Et voilà, here is the guesthouse.” Said Monsieur de la Tour, waving his hands emphatically before handing a set of keys to Toto. “Here are the keys, as I said, if you need anything we are just over in the main house.”

“Thank you, it’s perfect.” Said Toto, “And dinner will be served at eight?”

“Yes, that’s right. We look forward to welcoming you.” The older man replied.

You raised an eyebrow, this was not what you were expecting at all.

“Lovely to meet you both and we will see you later.” He said, patting his leg for his dog to follow as he made his way back down the pathway.

“Merci beaucoup, à toute!” Said Toto before turning to you and switching to English. “Shall we take a look?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” You said, following Toto into the pretty building.

A quick tour around revealed a charming yet rustic home, decked out in terracotta tiles and vintage French botanical artwork. It wasn’t fancy but it had its charm and you knew you’d have a wonderful time.

“What do you think?” Asked Toto as you made your way back towards the car to collect your luggage.

“It’s gorgeous!” You replied, “Although I’m surprised you chose it.”

“Surprised?” Toto said, “Why?”

Choosing your words carefully you replied, “Well you’re such a city slicker, it’s very country. I would have pegged you as a Cap-Eden-Roc type.”

“I have stayed there, but I wanted to find somewhere more romantic, more you.” Said Toto, his chocolate eyes melting you instantly.

“You big old softie,” you said, reaching up for a kiss before adding, “Who knew?”

“I’m glad you like it.” He said sweetly, opening the boot to take out your luggage. “So something I didn’t tell you is this is a Domaine where they make wine so dinner tonight is on the vineyard.”

“No way!” You said, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“I know.” He said with a grin, “I remember you told me this last year, so I thought now I can make it happen.”

“Wow, I don’t even remember saying that.” You said, touched by Toto’s sentimentality, “Thank you.”

“You can thank me later,” he said, squeezing your side as he rolled the suitcase along.

“Perv.” You said, squeezing his butt back.

– – –

THURSDAY AM

Dinner at the vineyard had been out of this world, with all the wine and cheese you could ever dream of. By the time you’d fallen into bed with Toto, you were both exceedingly merry and when you’d woken up this morning, you were bemused to discover that you were both still fully clothed. Toto had righted that in record timing, pulling you into the shower alongside him and peppering your entire body with soapy kisses.

It had been a battle to pack up and leave but unfortunately your busy schedules meant you were expected trackside later that morning and you had to peel snap back to reality.

As you made your way back towards the car, you turned to Toto, “Thank you so much for last night, it was amazing. I still can’t believe you remembered.”

Laden with luggage, Toto looked very pleased with himself, “I remember everything Y/N.”

Blushing you replied, “I hope not everything, God knows what I’ve told you when I’m tipsy.”

“God knows and I know.” said Toto, beaming away as you reached the car, unlocking it with a deft flick of the keyfob.

“Wow, that's cheesy.” you said, “Can I help with the cases? I feel bad you’re always carrying everything for me.”

“Don’t be silly.” he said, making light work of putting them in the boot, “You’re much smaller than me, besides, I have been neglecting the gym recently, I need the workout.”

“Well I think you’ve gotten your cardio up lately, no?” you said, casting your memory back to the last sex-filled few days.

“That’s true,” he replied, “Let me just take these keys to Monsieur de la Tour and we’ll get going.”

– – –

True to Toto’s word, it was a very short drive to the circuit, where you’d both be staying trackside in your trusty motorhomes. As you rolled up towards security a thought suddenly hit you.

“Toto, I just realised, are people not going to think it’s weird that you drove me here?”

“Why? They all know you were in Monaco for the filming?”

“That’s true, but so was Lewis and he’s not in the car.”

“You worry too much,” said Toto reassuringly.

“I guess,” you said, not convinced, knowing Lara would definitely have something to say. You’d both remained cagey on your whereabouts for the last two days and she was most definitely onto you.

As Toto pulled up to his designated parking space you clocked a few of your team already milling about in preparation for the upcoming Free Practice. Lewis and George were on their way, via helicopter and the rest of the Senior team were due to arrive any moment, having flown out from the UK that morning.

Opening your door, you were immediately greeted with a voice calling out “Y/N!”

Whipping your head around you saw it was Tom. “Hey Tom, how are you?”

“Good thanks,” replied the young man, eyeing up Toto curiously, “How did you get here so quickly, I thought you’d just left Monaco?”

Feeling foolish at being caught out already, as you’d dropped a text to your team WhatsApp group to say you were on the way, you tripped over your words trying to cover your tracks. “Oh, yes I think the signal was bad so my message sent when we were almost here.”

Seemingly appeased, Tom nodded, “Ugh, signal here is so ropey!” Spotting your pile of luggage that Toto had just taken out of the boot, he wandered around, adding, “Can I help you guys with your bags at all?”

“Oh yeah sure, that would be lovely, thank you, Tom.” You said, shooting a warning glance at Toto to not act weird.

“Thank you, Tom,” said Toto stiffly, acting as if this was a slight on his manhood. “Y/N, I have to take a call, I will see you back in the team motorhome later?”

“Sure.” You said, smirking slightly at Toto’s sudden formality. As if he hadn’t been kissing you here there and everywhere not two hours before. “We’ll put your bags in your motorhome.”

“Thanks, guys,” said Toto, locking the car and heading down towards the paddock.

Scooping up your luggage you fell into step alongside Tom as you made your way towards the motorhomes where you would be staying.

“So you drove down with the boss huh?” He asked.

“Yeah, he offered yesterday as we both had to be here at the same time.”

“That’s nice of him, he’s never offered to drive anyone else.”

You raised your eyebrow, “Well George and Lewis are coming via helicopter and everybody else was in the UK. Would’ve been a hell of a drive.”

“Makes sense.” Said Tom, before adding, “Right well, I feel like I should warn you, the motorhomes here are super tightly packed in. Yours is almost touching the PAs one.”

Coming to a stop and seeing what he meant you grimaced, “Oof yep, it’s okay though, they’ll just have to suffer my shower singing.”

Tom laughed, “Rather them than me. Although ours is just the other side so we might hear it too.”

“It’s cosy.” You said, “Where is Toto’s? We should put his bags in there for him.”

“Our great leader has his own pitch, no neighbours, jammy fucker.” Tom said, “It’s just over here.”

Following Tom, expertly weaving a path through the haphazardly placed motorhomes you reached a larger trio of motorhomes, “Are these George and Lewis’ too?” You asked.

“Yup. It’s alright for some.” He replied, making his way towards the largest of the three, “Here it is.”

“Great, I’ll grab his bags,” you said, reaching out for the smart duffle and holdall that Toto had hurriedly packed a few days before.

“Ooh, making yourself at home I see.” Called out a voice. Rolling your eyes you turned around to see none other than Lara making a beeline for Toto’s motorhome. “Are you staying here too?”

“Yes, Lara, next door to you.” You said, glaring at her, “We’re just putting Toto’s bags in here for him. Is that okay with you?”

“Well of course, why do you have Toto’s bags?” She said, an evil look in her eye, knowing that Tom was unaware of your situation.

“They just got here, drove down from Monaco.” Chimed in Tom innocently.

“Oh that’s interesting, he didn’t tell me that he was with you,” Lara said, nose in the air.

“Okay, yes it was a secret. You got me. We were doing all kinds of shady shit in Monaco and secretly drove here.”

Tom stared at you, mouth agape as he wasn’t au-fait with your delicate relationship with Lara.

“Well, next time please put it in the diary.” Said Lara, stony-faced. “How are you, Tom?”

Rolling your eyes once again, you dumped Toto’s bags in the living area of his motorhome, you couldn’t believe Lara.

Emerging to find Sophie had joined Lara and Tom in their chitchat you greeted your assistant.

“Hey Sophie, how are you getting on?” You asked, joining their circle.

“Good thanks, how was Monaco?” She asked as if you hadn’t been in constant communication via WhatsApp.

“Busy!” You said, “I’m going to go and drop my bags off and I’ll see you all in the paddock, okay?”

“Cool, see you,” said Sophie and Tom in unison, Lara glowering away.

FRIDAY PM

Walking into the paddock to check in on Free Practice, you hadn’t expected to encounter any difficulties but these days it seemed like everyone was on your case.

“Y/N!” a voice called out from behind you.

Turning around you were disappointed to see it was Toto’s arch-rival, Red Bull Team Principal, Christian Horner. Great.

“Hello Christian, how are you?” You said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“All the better having seen you.” He said sleazily, sidling up alongside you “Where’s loverboy?”

“Loverboy?” You said, knowing full well he was referring to Toto but not wanting to let him wind you up.

“Yeah, the tall guy, sounds like the Terminator? I heard you fuck him now and then?”

Internally screaming at the crude language you tried your best to keep level-headed. “Keep your fantasies to yourself, Christian, it’s unbecoming.”

“I’d rather you than me. What’s he really like?” He asked, walking alongside you as you tried to keep moving and shake him off, “I bet he’s tiny where it counts. Tall guys always are lacking.”

Having reached your limit, you could no longer stay polite, “Christian, what is actually wrong with you?”

He smirked, “Aw standing up for loverboy. How sweet. Don’t get burnt by him though. I could tell you some stories.”

Looking at him with disdain, “Look, I do not know what you are talking about. I’m the Director of Communications, nothing more, nothing less. Do you talk to all of your colleagues like this?”

“Just the pretty ones.”

“Lovely.” You said, in a tone that suggested it was anything but. “What do you really want Christian?”

“Just to talk to a pretty lady, that’s all.” He said, “And like I said, look after yourself, Toto is not the gentleman he appears to be.”

“Not like you I suppose?” You said sarcastically.

“I never said I was perfect, but I don’t pretend to be.” He said.

Getting fed up with his annoying chitchat you were grateful to have almost reached the Mercedes garage.

“I bet Loverboy is in there, waiting for you.” He said eyeing up the entrance.

“Sure thing.” You said, “Have a wonderful day Christian, always a pleasure chatting with you.”

“Oh the pleasure is all mine,” he said, winking at you as you turned into the garage.

Internally shuddering at the creep you’d just encountered you tried your best to greet the team with a smile and not take Christian’s words to heart. You were of course curious about what he meant by stories of Toto, but equally, you knew how much shit he liked to talk so you were sure he was just trying to get under your skin, or even Toto’s.

– – –

Free Practice had flown by and the team were in good stead for tomorrow’s qualifying. Lewis had put in a staggering lap and spirits were high in the Mercedes camp. Your team had asked if you’d like to join them for cassoulet and wine in the campground but Toto had other plans so you’d politely declined and told a few white lies about US-based sponsor meetings with a time difference.

Instead, you were now wandering along a nearby beach, the Plage de Lioquet, hand in hand with Toto, not another soul in sight.

“This is nice.” You said, snuggling up.

“I know, I needed a break,” Toto said, wrapping his arm around you, hugging you tighter to his firm chest.

“Toto, there’s something that happened earlier that I didn’t tell you about.” You said, hoping now was the right moment to tell him about Christian’s harsh words.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

“When I was walking to the garage earlier, Christian decided to come and walk with me and chat all sorts of shit. He accused me of fucking you and then told me to watch out because apparently, he has stories of you being less than a gentleman.” You blurted out.

Toto’s concern turned to anger, “That piece of shit. Did he say this in front of anyone?”

“No, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. It was very creepy.” You said.

“I’m going to talk to him tomorrow. This is not okay.” He said, “He should know better. He likes to wind me up but it’s not fair to do it via you.”

“Leave it, he just wants to get a rise.” You said, not wanting to drag Toto into it.

“Hmm,” Toto said, his chest vibrating with anger.

Placing your hand on his heart, you tried to calm him down, “I only told you because I think you should know, but he’s not worth the time or the energy.”

“You’re right,” Toto said. “He is such a windbag.”

You giggled at Toto’s strange turn of phrase, “That he is. Do you want to sit for a bit? We can watch the sunset?”

“Sure,” Toto said, “That part is flat.”

Making your way across the pebbled beach, Toto stopped in the spot he’d gestured at, took off his jacket and laid it out for you both.

“Here,” he said, settling you down in between his long legs, your back flush against his chest.

“Mmm.” You said, leaning back into Toto’s warm embrace, watching as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon. “This is cool, I feel like we have our own private beach.”

“Oh yeah?” said Toto, his mind clearly wandering along the same route yours was.

“Hmm yeah. And it’s about to get dark.” You said wriggling your bottom nearer to Toto’s crotch.

“That’s true,” he said, his hands starting to explore your torso towards your breasts, giving them a light squeeze through your many layers.

“You’re hot.” He said, grunting slightly as he continued to run his hands around you.

“I’m actually pretty cold.” You said, bursting into a fit of laughter before turning around to kiss him.

As you deepened the kiss, Toto lifted you, moved your leg to one side and swooped you around so that you were now straddling him. Feeling him growing harder underneath you, you were emboldened by the fact that the sun had now really dipped and darkness was starting to fall. Confident you were still very much alone on the beach, you ground down, eliciting a moan from Toto.

“Fuck, Y/N, are we doing this?” His deep voice rumbled, low with lust.

“There’s nobody around.” You said, too horny to turn back.

“Hang on, I have an idea.” Said Toto, leaning back and tearing off his cashmere sweater, flicking it around and draping it around you.

“Is that so the birds don’t see?” You laughed, gesturing at your only company, a few seagulls.

“Well, you never know.” Said Toto, laughing as he started to lift your skirt, his hands creeping up your thighs.

“Fuck, I’m glad I wore a skirt.” You said breathily.

“Me too.” He said, reaching his goal, his long fingers pulling your underwear to one side and starting to explore where you were growing increasingly wet. “Oh, you are horny tonight.”

“Well duh.” You said, your hands skimming his abs to find his belt buckle.

“Impatient too.” He said smirking, kissing you once again before plunging his finger into your core.

Hitching your breath, you were indeed impatient and scrambled to undo his belt buckle and chino button and let his cock free.

“Fuck,” Toto said, as you found what you were after, gliding your hand up and down it as he pumped his finger into you.

“Indeed.” You said, shifting forward slightly so the heel of his hand bumped up against where you needed it most.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Toto asked, his free hand eagerly sneaking up your shirt and under your bra to cup your bare breast, tweaking your nipple playfully.

“I’ve never been more certain,” you said, leaning forward once again to kiss him as he pulled out his hand to replace it with his now achingly hard cock. He gently lifted you, lining himself up and then pushed down, filling you slowly and agonisingly.

“You okay?” He asked, always considerate.

“Yuh-huh.” Was all you managed, taking a breath as you adjusted. “All good.”

“Mmm,” he said as he started to slowly pump in and out, going for the slow grind today. Your hips buckled as you started to grind back, swirling slowly and tantalisingly.

“Fuck.” He said, “Stop for a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” You said, concerned.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to cum.”

“Ow.” You said, stilling. “Fuck, that feels so good. I love it when you’re inside me.”

At that, you could feel Toto throbbing, a warning sign that you were in the danger zone.

“Fuck, don’t say things like that.” He said, clearly on the edge of his self-control.

“Sorry, but it’s the truth.” You said, accidentally shifting as you shrugged your shoulders, “You okay? We can take a break if you need?”

“No, no, all good,” said Toto, recomposing himself and leaning forward to kiss you once more. “We just need to be careful.”

Smiling at your very considerate lover, you stayed put for a little while, content with sitting on Toto’s cock, letting it stretch you in places you’d never been stretched before as you continued passionately kissing.

Toto then started to gently thrust back up into you, and taking it as a signal that he was okay to start up again, you ground back down to meet his hips once more.

“Fuck Y/N, I’m so sor…” was all Toto managed to get out before he moaned, his cock throbbing, spilling everything into you.

“Fuck.” You said as Toto panted into your shoulder, still riding the high of his orgasm.

“Scheiße! I am so sorry.” Said Toto, pulling out of you with a squelch.

“It’s okay, these things happen.” You said, secretly panicking beyond belief. You always tracked your period and knew that this week was dangerous. You’d been careful so far but hadn’t come prepared for this and had allowed yourself to get carried away. Toto looked devastated and you weren’t about to scare him further so tried to calm him down, grabbing his chin and tilting his face towards yours, “Don’t worry, I can try and get a morning-after pill tomorrow, just to be safe.”

“Fuck,” was all he could continue to blurt out, “I don’t want you having to do that, you’re busy enough tomorrow. Shall we go now?”

“Toto, this is rural France. Do you really think somewhere will sell it to us at ten o’clock at night?”

“Maybe?” Toto said hopefully. “Although I’m old, maybe we are panicking for nothing.”

“Oh shut up with the old thing again!” You said, “It’s better to be safe than sorry, I’ll go early tomorrow.”

“Well okay, I’ll drive you.”

“And that won’t look suspicious?”

“How will you get there? They’ll hardly have it at the Circuit.” Toto said, his steely Team Principal mask back on as you climbed off of his lap, feeling everything dripping down your thigh.

“Can I borrow the car?”

“I’d rather drive you.” Toto paused, “Or I will drive and get it for you? No one will question me.”

“Maybe that’s the wisest choice. Fuck Toto, I’m so sorry.” You said, rearranging your skirt and settling beside him.

“Don’t say that, it’s my fault.” He said. “You drive me crazy Y/N.”

Smiling sympathetically you replied, “Likewise.”

Almost pitch black, you could just about make out Toto gazing at you in the darkness beside you. He took your hand in his suddenly before blurting out, “I love you.”

Floored by his words, you replied with the truth, “I love you too.”

#formula one x reader #toto wolff fanfic #f1 x reader #onceuponatimein...

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

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bakuhoes-dumbass · 3 years

Text

Aberration - Chapter 3

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Third chap, here we go! It’ll start picking up soon. I know there isn’t much ‘horror’ rn, but it will get there, I promise. Also, I’m sorry Tamaki’s part is a bit longer than Hawks. I just adore Tamaki so much and he deserves the world and lots of hugs and kithes.

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing. More to come.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

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Aberration Masterlist

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"Good afternoon Mr. Keigo, my name is Y/N and I'll-" You look up from your notes to see a half naked man with blonde hair and bright red bird wings lounging on his bed. Your jaw drops and you hold your clipboard up in front of your suddenly heated face.

Keigo looks over to you with his brows raised. "Well well, looks like we've got ourselves a new baby bird. How…" The handsome man's lips turn up into a cocky smirk.

"...interesting."

You peek over your clipboard to see his cocky smirk and hide your eyes again. "Keigo, would you please put on a shirt?"

He chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows. "What, too embarrassed to look at me, baby bird? I'll tell you what. You tell me who you are, and if you're single, and I'll cover myself."

"My name is Y/N. I'm the newest scientist in this facility, here to observe you, hoping it helps to find a cure. And there is no need for you to know my relationship status."

"Ah, ah, ah. If you don't tell me, you'll have to do this interview while gazing at my gorgeous body." You hear the cockiness in his voice.

"I swear to fu- fine, yes I'm currently happily single. Now, please put your shirt on." You mumble under your breath, "this is so inappropriate."

After a minute of rustling, Keigo leans back onto his bed. "Okay, my single baby bird. I'm all covered up for you."

You lower your clipboard just below your eyes to make sure, seeing the smirking bird man lounging on his bed with a shirt on. You finally lower your clipboard all the way before giving a curt nod. Making your way to the desk chair, you smile at the man.

"Thank you, Keigo. As I said before, my name is Y/N and I'm here to get to know you."

He snickers, "well, I'm here to answer any questions you have for me, baby bird. Fire away."

You sigh and open your notebook. "Must you call me such a name?"

"Awe, do you not like when I call you that?"

Sighing once more, you decide to just move on. You know you'll end up going in circles. "Please state your full name, age and date of birth for me."

"My name is Keigo Takami. I'm 28 years old. My birthday is December 28th." He paused to let you write that down before opening his mouth again. "Did you need my star sign and my relationship status? Well, I'm a Capricorn and I am definitely sin-"

"Nope, that's enough." You cut him off before he could ramble on even more. "Now, can you tell me what your quirk is exactly?"

Keigo blinks before turning around, the chains on his ankles clanking against the bed frame. Your eyes light up being able to actually see the giant, beautiful red bird wings coming from his back. You frowned slightly noticing they were pinned down, preventing him from being able to use them.

"Does that hurt? Having them pinned like that?" You tilt your head eyes following the edges of each feather.

Keigo lets out a quiet chuckle, eyeing you from over his shoulder. "A little. But nothing I can't handle. Why, is my baby bird worried about little ole me?"

Your frown turns into a glare and you clear your throat. "So, what exactly can you do with these wings of yours?"

Keigo's mouth twitches into a smirk as he turns back around to face you. "Well, I can fly. And I can also disconnect each feather from my wings and use them individually."

You nod, not wanting to show how impressed you were, knowing he'd make a crack at it. You finish writing down that information before asking your next question. "Now, can you tell me why you are here?"

"Getting down to the nitty-gritty, I see. Well, I was arrested and charged with Drug Trafficking, Forgery and Assault." You look at him, motioning him to continue. He shrugs. "There isn't much else to it. I'm a mafia leader. This shit happens on a daily basis, for years. Just so happened that I eventually got caught, on account of a leak in my group. Fortunately, for me, I use other people to do the killing for me. So that means they couldn't get me with murder." He cocks his head. "Unfortunately, though, trafficking and forgery are also felonies, so. That's why I'm here."

"So you spent your life moving copious amounts of drugs, forging money and assaulting clients who did you wrong?"

Keigo thinks about your words for a moment and nods. "Essentially, yes."

"Alright then." You stand up and bow your head to the mafia leader who was watching you carefully. "I will take my leave, as I have one more inmate to see before the end of my shift." You head towards the door, but pause for a moment. "Oh, and Keigo?" You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. "Your wings are beautiful."

Keigo's eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly, watching you walk out that door. His face turns bright red after processing your words. He mutters under his breath, "oh, baby bird…"

After shutting the door behind you, you breathe out. Aizawa looks up from his phone. "How'd it go?"

You raise a brow, "what, you weren't watching me through the security cameras like before?"

"Oh, I was," he deadpanned. "But, visually, it didn't look as compromising as the last two visits. The cameras don't pick up audio."

"Well, besides the lack of clothing in the beginning and the incessant flirting, I was pleasantly surprised."

Aizawa looked at his watch. "Now, I think we have time for one more before we have to turn in paperwork and unchain the more dangerous inmates from their beds to give them some room to stretch out." Aizawa flips through the profiles before stopping on one. "How about Amajiki?"

You turn to his profile and scan the words in front of you. "A cannibal, huh. Well that's not something you see every day."

"I think he'd be good to end the day with. Despite him being, well, a cannibal, he's actually extremely reserved and quite timid. I don't think he'd try to hurt you or get close to you. He suffers from borderline personality disorder, as you see." Aizawa looks up from his notes and eyes you. "However, he is a level 10. He may come across as innocent and somewhat angelic, but remember, he is one of the most dangerous criminals in this facility. He has multiple murders under his belt. So just keep that in mind."

You nod your head, slightly bouncing with excitement. This one sounds quite interesting to you. You've never met a cannibal before and this one has a quirk that sounds intriguing. Aizawa sighs before turning away from Hawk's door and heading further down the long hallway. He stops in front of a heavy door and scans you in.

Once you step inside the white room, you furrow your brows, not really noticing anyone. That's when you hear a small whimper and a few muffled, stuttered words coming from the floor next to the bed.

"W-Who are you?"

You lean to the side to see an indigo-haired figure huddled against the wall between the desk and the bed. You notice his body is trembling, only his eyes visible through his bangs, his arms covering the rest of his face. Head tilted, you squat down from a distance and smile.

"Hi there, Amajiki. My name is Y/N. I'm the newest scientist at this facility. I'm here to talk to you and get to know you to help further our findings for a cure. I'd like to be friends, if that's possible." You reply gently. You can tell he's scared out of his mind.

He raises his head up, giving you a full view of his…

Muzzle?

"F-friends?"

Your eyes widen slightly. The bottom half of Amajiki's face, from his nose to under his chin, is completely covered by a silver muzzle. It's strapped around his head and locked in place by a padlock. Your eyes travel down to see his wrists chained together with quirk cancelling cuffs and, as you expected, both of his ankles are chained to the heavy duty bed frame.

"They have you muzzled like that?" You stare in disbelief, slightly angered at the treatment. You understand that he's a known cannibal, but to strap that heavy muzzle around his head on top of chains already weighing him down.

Amajiki nods shyly, "y-yeah. I guess it's because of the whole e-eating people… thing."

You sit yourself down on the floor across from him, your notes in your lap. "Is it uncomfortable?" He nods slowly, his eyes avoiding yours. You give him a small smile. "I'm sorry."

His eyes shoot to yours, confusion flashing through them. "Why are you sorry?"

"It...seems like a lot of you are possibly being mistreated here. I've noticed a few things here and there."

Amajiki's brows furrow. "And why should you care? W-We're criminals."

"True. However, this facility isn't supposed to be judge, jury and executioner. You're entitled to a fair trial, just like everyone else. That includes not being mistreated." Your smile never leaves your face as you look the man in the eyes. "I am not only here to research a cure, but make sure in doing so, it won't harm any of you. It'll be humane, I promise." Amajiki just stares at you with an unreadable expression. You sigh and click your pen. "Do you mind if I ask you some questions, Amajiki?" He shakes his head but stays quiet.

"Can you please state your full name, age and date of birth?"

"U-um. Tamaki Amajiki, 25, March 4th."

"Thank you. And what is your quirk?"

Amajiki hugs his knees tighter. "I-It's called Manifestation. Essentially, whatever I eat and digest, I can manifest as a body part."

Your leg bounces in excitement. "So, if you were to eat, let's say, Takoyaki, you can turn your hand into tentacles?" He nods his head. Your eyes light up. "That is incredible, Amajiki. That's such a powerful quirk!"

Amajiki's eyes widened, a blush spreading across his cheeks that were partially hidden under his muzzle. This is the first time he's ever been thankful to have this thing attached to his face. "U-um, t-thanks."

You let out a soft giggle and continue writing in your notes. "Here's a little bit more of a difficult question, Amajiki. Can you please tell me why you are incarcerated in this facility?"

Amajiki stays quiet, not looking at you. You notice his hesitation. You think for a moment before looking around the room. Amajiki sneaks a glance at you, watching you look around the room. His brows furrow. "W-What are you…"

You finally spot the locations of the camera and move your body so your back was facing it. Ignoring his question, you place your pen down directly in front of you so only Amajiki can see. You furrow your brows in concentration and stick your tongue out as you hover your hand over your pen. To Amajiki's utter shock, the pen starts floating in the air.

"Y-You have a quirk?!"

You nod your head and release the pen from your power. "Yeah, I do. It's nothing fancy like yours, but it is a mutation, nonetheless. Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone who understands more of your situation than you might think. So that's why I wanted to show you." You smile at the man, who is looking at you with pure adoration. "Please, keep this to yourself. I don't know what Aizawa would do if he found out about it."

"I-I won't tell anyone, I promise."

You giggle and sit back down in your original spot. "Thank you. Now, can you please tell me why you're in this facility?"

He nods his head, still slightly dazed about this new-found information. "I was charged with multiple counts of 1st degree murder a-and…" his voice drops to a whisper, "s-serial cannibalism."

You couldn't help your interest in the subject and started rambling. "Would you be so kind as to explain how this came about? Did you grow up into a family of cannibals or-"

"NO!" He lashes out, causing you to flinch slightly. He winces as your reaction, not intending to scare you. "N-no. Nothing like that. It happened… against my will, so to say?" Amajiki sighs and rests his chin on his arms, not meeting your eyes. "I was one of the only kids in my small town to have been born with a mutation. My parents tried to hide it, tried to hide me. I don't know if it was from fear of people hurting me or fear of everyone judging them for having me."

He blinks a few times before continuing. "The town I lived in was small, a bad side to say the least. Lots of low-lifes and gangs running around. Well, long story short, someone found out about me and what my quirk was. They kidnapped me and…" He trails off. Suddenly, his eyes snapped to yours, an uncomfortable and intense feeling overwhelming you. "They forced me to eat another person, someone with a quirk. They wanted to see if I could turn their power into my own."

He cocks his head and lets out a cackle, still making eye contact with you. "Can you believe that?! It actually worked! So what did they do? They forced me to eat ANOTHER quirk user. They wanted to turn me into an ultimate weapon." Amajiki lets out a strange noise, sounding like a mixture between a guttural sob and a laugh. "Well, the joke was on them in the end. I ended up killing and eating them in the end and escaping. But after that point, something mutated further in my quirk. I couldn't stop craving human flesh." He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "A-And that's why I'm here now."

Your eyes are wide and your breath is heavy. Something inside you feels a sense of panic, looking at the clearly broken man in front of you. It's so much information to take in, you stay quiet for awhile, your body on high alert. Amajiki notices how quiet you are and he opens his eyes. He notices a terrified look on your face and internally panics.

"W-Wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I-I'm not going to hurt you." He finally moves out from his huddled form and kneels instead, the sound of chains clinking together snapping you out of it. "I-I would n-never hurt you." He whispers the last part, hoping you wouldn't hear it.

You clear your throat after taking a few deep breaths. "T-Thank you for telling me this, Amajiki. It was really brave of you to relive those experiences." You look at him and notice the fear and concern in his face. Giving him a small smile, you close your notebook. "I'm fine, I promise." You stand up on shaky legs and bow your head. "I need to get going."

Amajiki quickly stands up, making you slightly flinch again, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. "Y-You're leaving already? Will I get to see you again?"

"You will. I'm an employee here now, so I'll be the one to check up on all the inmates and work on everyone's individual sessions." You turn your back and walk to the door. "I'll see you later, Amajiki."

The indigo-haired man watches you walk through his door, longing written across his face. The only thing running through his mind are thoughts of the pretty telekinesis that made his heart race.

Once out the door, Aizawa meets you in the hallway. "How'd it go with the man-eater?"

You scowl at the doctor. "Why do you say things like that? He has a name."

"He's a criminal, Y/N. They're all criminals. Shouldn't matter what we call them." He rolls his eyes. "Just come with me. We have to finish our paperwork before the end of the day."

You grumble under your breath but follow the tired-looking doctor to his office. "You also need to prepare yourself for tomorrow. You will be meeting Kaminari, Midoriya, Shinso, Bakugo, Todoroki, Dabi and Kai. And 5 out of the 7 are level 8 and above."

~~~

Taglist: @theblueslytherin @sterassion @somechick30003 @meena-in-a-nutshell @justtj-andnonumberspls @zombieonna @amajikiwife @yulifee @atexansadventureintokinkandlife @ep-ip-ha-ny @hcneymilkks @pastelmoonwitche @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @railmeddy @unlimitedfirepheonix @confaegion @drownedbytears @burntcrips @megumitodoroki @the-lady-writes-what @awkward-confused @themotherofmoons @ihaveakoreanseoul @1-800-multifandomness @dabis-s-whore @tragically-here @andyronii @sunnnyshark @henhouse-horrors @maggiecc @tspice283 @orenjineki @aaannabbanana @letskidaddle @yzviea @jjk-is-my-shit @iwachanslove

[If your name is bolded, I wasn’t able to tag you]

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thesolferino · 3 years

Text

Favor

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ genre: angst, fluff

⤷ word count: 8.4k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a day. things only seem to go downhill from there.

It started as a favor.

On a quiet night in your apartment when you stared at your phone for way longer than your eyes could physically take and rolled around on the bed, talking to one of your best internet friends, Dream, he asked you for a favor. His voice was muffled through the mic on his phone, the one connected to his computer way cleaner, but neither of you could bother getting off FaceTime and call on Discord instead - yet you still heard him loud and clear, because you burst out laughing right after.

“What the hell did you just say?” you laughed, turning on your stomach and opening the call, now entirely focused on the timer that counted every second you spent talking to him instead of your Twitter timeline.

“It’s embarrassing, don’t make me repeat it!” And for that sole reason, you wanted him to repeat it, loud and clear.

“Is this why you were so insistent on me coming down to Florida? So I could pretend to be your girlfriend at your cousin’s wedding so your family doesn’t think you’re a loser?” you laughed, finding the situation entirely absurd as he sputtered, words mashing together, trying to defend himself.

“No! No, I wanted you to come here because we’re friends and I-I wanna meet you, this is just a… benefit, of sorts.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but laugh even harder at his poor attempt of trying to save face.

“Alright, I’ll bite.” you chuckle. “What’s in it for me?”

“Whatever you want.” he responded, much too quick. Your eyebrows raised.

“Whatever I want?” you parroted.

“Yes.” he confirmed. “I’ll buy you something, if you want; I’ll even pay you-”

“Pay me?! I’m not a whore, Dream!”

“That is not AT ALL what I was saying!” he cut in, yelling as you burst into a new fit of laughter. “It’s just… I sort of already told them I have a girlfriend and I was just hoping you’d say yes ‘cause it’s gonna be very awkward if I show up without the girlfriend in question.”

You put your head in your hands and he sort of dryly laughed at himself when he heard your palm hit your forehead. “What is wrong with you, man?”

“Listen, it’s not gonna be so bad! Just stay by my side for a bit, look pretty, we’ll get some drinks, and then dip. That’s it, I promise.” he reasoned.

“And here I thought we were gonna make out in front of everyone. What’s a fake relationship if we don’t make a show out of it?” you sarcastically snickered, and could practically see his eyeroll from miles away.

“If that’s what you want, then we’ll do it, by all means.” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head in mild disbelief.

“Alright, well, if you already told them, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you huffed, pretending to be way more bummed out about it than you really were. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you so much, oh my God.” he replied and you chuckled at the sheer relief in his voice.

A few seconds of silence pass. “What’s the catch?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“How do you want me to publicly embarrass myself in exchange for this favor?”

“Personally, I think that forcing you to tweet that tweet about pissing yourself in bed again and also tweeting that everyone should subscribe to me isn’t “publicly embarrassing” at all.”

“Maybe I should’ve picked a different fake girlfriend.”

“Sucks to suck, pissbaby.”

The weeks leading up to your meetup felt like years, with every treacherous minute of you two talking over muffled mics and shitty webcams feeling longer than it should, your empty apartment feeling emptier and emptier by the day. Was it even possible to miss a person you hadn’t even met yet?

It turns out that it very much was, because as soon as the painfully long weeks were up and you were finally metres away from him, you jumped in his arms like a woman finally seeing her soldier husband after the war, standing on your tiptoes while he bent down the best he could to hug you back. His chest rumbled with a warm laugh when you turned your head ever so slightly towards his ear.

“Hello, boyfriend.” And just like that, the warm turned into a groan of faux annoyance while you burst into laughter and he pulled away, scanning your face with an equally annoyed look.

“I should’ve never asked you for that. You’re never letting it go, are you?” Yeah, you were kind of annoying with the amount of corny boyfriend jokes you threw his way - you had to give him that. But then again, he crafted his own fate and now he must accept the consequences.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise your majesty wasn’t appreciating the work I’m doing! I just won’t show up at that wedding, how about that?” you bit back, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re such an idiot.” he laughed. “Give me those bags.”

A blissful week had passed, and he hadn’t pissed you off in real life nearly as much as you thought he would. It took a bit of getting used to to his family calling him Clay instead of his beloved internet username, and you did get a couple of suggestive looks from his mother the first few times she visited - you had a couple of “eye conversations” in which she never exactly asked if you were his girlfriend, and you never exactly denied it, but you knew both of you felt the weight of the unspoken words yet you had to keep everything secret and ambiguous. Or at least you thought you did, before he revealed to you that he told his mom the two of you were dating already. Seems like the glances were knowing and not questioning. Maybe you weren’t as good at eye conversation as previously thought.

Living with him was fine, mostly because he had godly air conditioning and a house that was probably way too big for him, and also a very cute cat that followed you everywhere and made living with a man for a full two weeks way more bearable. Finding out that he can’t cook was one of the most bizarre revelations about him that you’d had in the years of your friendship, and you demanded he watched as you made chicken wraps. You complained about how he was 21 and couldn’t cook for himself, he complained about how it’s 2021 and he can just order from Chipotle or something, dude.

A week of goofing around and trying to hide the fact the two of you temporarily lived together from the internet had passed quicker than it should’ve, and for the first time in seven days, Netflix was turned off and the two of you were dressing up for the wedding, ready to set off with his parents and younger sister. He spent ages trying to convince you to match with him, which was quite literally impossible because he wore a black suit and you brought a red dress, which resulted in the two of you roaming around a local mall at 10 am, half asleep, looking for a reasonably formal black dress, because of course Dream always got his way.

An hour of arguing and your fashion tastes clashing later, you picked an off shoulder black dress with a high slit, along with a pair of pumps, both of which you forced him to pay for, and went back home, ready to glam both of you up as much as humanly possible because you were not ready to let him show up in some horrendous pair of shoes and claim to be your boyfriend.

“Is this okay?” you questioned, turning from the mirror to face him and let him be the judge of your shimmery black and white eyelids, spending way too much time on a makeup look for a wedding of someone whose name you didn’t even know. He blinked at you as his judging gaze washed over you like a wave, scanning you up and down while you nervously cocked your head, leg tapping in faux impatient annoyance to cover up the fact that you felt like prey under his eyes.

“It’s… yeah, it is. You look good.” Dream confirmed, nodding his head at you in a movement that was way too quick and snappy and you turn back to the mirror with a huff, watching him stare right back at you.

“Too much, right? I should try something else.” You say, grabbing your makeup remover wipes, but he cuts in before you can even wipe a single smudge.

“No, no, it looks good, I promise. Really good. Don’t touch it.” Something way too sincere in his voice makes the air tense, more tense than usual, but you drop it, deciding to just take the compliment with a tight lipped smile.

“Okay. You ready?” you ask, and he nods, nervously straightening out his suit before looking back at you with an anxious grin.

“Yeah, I think so. Do I look fine?”

He did. He looked more than fine. You’d never seen him actually dress up for something and put proper care into his looks - he was practically forced into doing it by you this time as well - so seeing him in an actual black suit, all formal and expensive looking, messy dirty blond hair properly combed for the first time in ages, made you gulp and look away. You sort of never understood the argument that women and men can’t be friends because you were never attracted to one of your male friends, ever. Dream was born to be an exception to every rule, it seemed.

Realising that you abruptly looked away, you attempted to awkwardly clear your throat and smile at him.

“Yeah, you do. Let’s go.”

During the ride there, his mother seemed to finally explode and the words that have clearly wanted to pour out of her mouth for ages finally came out. You supposed it was better for the poor woman, and did your best to suppress a laugh when Dream dramatically sighed and leaned against the window when she nosily spoke up.

“So… since when have you and Clay been together? He’s told us absolutely nothing!” She spoke up from the passenger seat, shifting to look at you, excited smile plastered on her face and you politely smiled back, mentally noting that you’d have to bully the shit out of him for acting like his mom is embarrassing him in front of his 8th grade crush.

“Ah, we’ve been friends for a long while, but we only started dating a month or so ago, because it’s hard doing long distance and all that.” you said, hoping it would sound believable enough because the two of you rehearsed this a few days ago, writing out a whole backstory from how you started dating to what exact words he used when he asked you out. There were a couple of arguments here and there, such as the fact you refused to say you confessed you’ve been in love with him for years and he refused to say he admitted he’s been your “bottom bitch” for 3 years but in the end, you somehow managed to agree on a cohesive timeline of events.

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to move here?” she questioned, and that one didn’t surprise you either, Dream having prepared a full list of answers to questions that people might ask in your notes app. He was a perfectionist to the point it got on your nerves, but that had its own perks.

“No, but I’ll definitely visit more often, and if it goes well, I might as well move here.” you smiled back at her and she nodded, going back to staring through the windshield. You and Dream exchange a relieved glance that you hope his younger sister doesn’t notice.

“Let me tell you, I was waiting for you two to get together! He always talked about you, I was getting tired of him, you know that?” she giggled and you widened your eyes at Dream who, snapping out of somewhat of a daze, immediately jumped to protest, light blush adorning his pale cheeks.

“No, I didn’t! I did not, mom, don’t lie to her.” he argued while all she did was laugh.

“Oh come on, it’s not embarrassing now that you’re together!” she kept going, and his younger sister joined in, to make it even worse.

“Yeah, you do talk about her a lot, not gonna lie.” she spoke up and his cold glare directed her way told you everything you needed to know, hanging on by a thread not to burst out laughing. He refused to even look your way, turning back to the window as his cheeks started heating up. You couldn’t help but let out at least a bit of a giggle, placing your hand on his arm in fake comfort.

“It’s okay, you can admit it now.” your tone borderlined on mocking and he knew you’d make fun of him for days to come so he stayed silent while the rest of the car burst into laughter.

The wedding was truly beautifully set up, set in a hotel wedding venue, walls painted in pure innocent white with hints of gold here and there, and you nudged Dream as the two of you observed in awe, asking what sort of money the groom had to be able to afford this sort of expensive venue. Nudging him proved to be way easier now, because you linked arms - you originally made fun of him for suggesting to walk like that instead of holding hands like normal people, telling him you’d look like you were at your high school prom, but he persisted, and you didn’t end up looking as goofy as you thought.

“He’s a doctor or something, pretty sure.” he replied, quick feet trudging down the long hallways, your own struggling to keep up with him, especially in your heels. He seemed to be in a rush to sit and get it over with as soon as possible so he could avoid any nosy family members, but bad luck followed him everywhere, it seems, because as soon as you two entered the place where the bride and groom would unite, at least three different pairs of eyes locked on you, and you immediately saw a fairly elderly woman get up with open arms, staring at Dream with a grin on her face. You saw him immediately tense up, and almost laughed right then and there.

“There’s my boy! Oh, you’ve grown so much, come here!” The woman looked to be in her fifties and Dream let go of your arm to nervously laugh and fall into her hug, the two rocking from side to side as she kept going on about how it seemed that he grew taller and taller every time she saw him.

When the two pulled away, her eyes fixed on you, judgingly scanning from head to toe and you suddenly realised why Dream tensed up the way he did - old white women sure had a way to make you anxious. Thankfully, he stepped in.

“Aunt Bessie, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is aunt Bessie, my mom’s older sister.” he generously offered the explanation you were so obviously lacking and you grinned, as if that information helped you in any way, and stuck out your hand in an offer of a handshake. However, she seemed to have different plans, because as soon as she heard the words “my girlfriend” her face lit up as if she won the lottery and her lips stretched into a smile, opening her arms for you the same way she did for him.

“Oh my God, you finally got a girlfriend? Come here!” she said, shaking her head at your outstretched hand and gesturing you to return the hug which you quite hesitantly did, politely laughing as she hugged you tighter than you’d deem appropriate. Dream came from a family of huggers - that much was apparent from him, you guess, but you weren’t exactly prepared for this.

Aunt Bessie seemed to be way louder and screechier than expected, because the word “girlfriend” boomed through the room and off the snowy walls, and at least five other family members of his turned around to check who the lucky fellow that finally got a girlfriend was. Another one of his aunts seemed to notice the commotion and suddenly, another older woman with shoulder length, dyed blonde hair, along with her two younger kids, was hurling at you as well.

“I always complained to him that it was about time he got a girlfriend! He’s a fine young man, no wonder you picked him, honey.” Aunt Bessie shot you a knowing look and you closed your mouth in a tight lipped smile in a feverish attempt to keep down the laugh that threatened to escape you.

“Oh yeah, he definitely is.” you giggled, looking up at Dream again who looked like he wanted the earth below his feet to open and swallow him whole. Before you could nudge him in the ribs and tease him for hours to come, the other aunt suddenly spoke up.

“Clay! Oh my gosh, is that you?” she exclaimed, shocked grin on her face, and you briefly wondered if Dream ever even visited his family. He nervously smiled, obviously not really sure who this woman even is, but he hugged her back anyway, clearly walking the line between ‘happy to see his family’ and ‘insanely uncomfortable’.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, your dad hasn’t visited since we moved to Toronto! Look at how tall you are, you’re taller than my husband now! You used to be so tiny, whatever happened to you?” Upon hearing the word Toronto he seemed to realise who he was talking to as his eyes softened, and you wondered if he really was so expressive or you could just read him that well.

“I grew up, I guess.” He awkwardly laughed and she laughed harder than she should’ve before turning to you.

“Oh, and who is this?” She said, gaze periodically switching between him and you, a knowing smile on her face which told you she definitely knew who you were.

“Ah, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is… my dad’s cousin, Mabel.” He introduced, large hand landing on your back, and you felt like you were experiencing déjà vu at the way her face lit up at the mention of a girlfriend.

“Wow, it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N!” She said, energetically shaking your hand, before turning back to Dream. “You never told us you got a girlfriend! You’re finally planning on settling down, huh?”

Your head snapped in his direction at the speed of light when she mentioned settling down, and you could see him tense up as well as he nervously laughed.

“Yeah, we haven’t visited in a while, so nobody from the family really knew. And, uh… we haven’t really thought of that yet, we’re taking it slow and everything.” He said and you were almost in awe at how good he was at bullshitting. The woman did nothing but laugh.

“Ah, don’t lie to me, I see the way you two look at each other! It’s your wedding we’ll be attending next!” She winked, and just as Dream got ready to fake laugh once again, her family called her over and she excused herself, walking off.

The two of you hurried to your seats as well, sitting down next to his younger sister.

“Your family is insane, man, holy shit.” You laughed in disbelief, staring at him as he shook his head, clearly as distressed as you were.

“Literally nobody in this family gives a single fuck if I’m single or not except the old aunties. And I seem to have a shit ton of those.” He muttered under his breath. “The way you look at each other - I literally didn’t even look at you properly that whole time!”

You cackled at that one, hitting his arm. “She’s right, Clay. You’re one fine young man, eh?” You nudged him as he groaned in embarrassment, only turning your way to glare at you.

You didn’t get to tease him for much longer, though, because the organ started playing and the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up, the groom standing at his designated place. The bride walked in, arms locked with her father, thin white veil covering her face as she walked down the aisle, looking angelic in her puffy wedding gown. Silky brown hair fell down her shoulders, curled towards the ends, and you could see the hint of blood red lipstick beneath the veil. She looked beautiful - the groom seemed to think so as well, because you could see him tapping the corner of his eye lightly, wiping any stray tears.

She finally made it to the end and stepped to face her soon-to-be husband as her father moved away, sitting back in his chair. The wedding officiant stepped up, and held a speech much longer than it should be, which just led you to zone out.

One day you’d be beneath that veil, wouldn’t you? One day, you’ll face your fiancé the same way she is, and you’ll let your hearts link with a string that nobody but the two of you could snap. Who would that be, though? Who could you even trust with your heart in their hands? And you’re not aware of how and why and when, but your eyes shot up at Dream, whose eyes also glinted in that way where you knew he wasn’t paying attention, and maybe he was thinking about the same thing as you. Maybe one day, you’ll be attending his wedding, forcing one of your friends to play a fake boyfriend as he wipes his tears, waiting for his bride to get to him.

It was disheartening, the thought of being a bystander while he locks lips with somebody else. You supposed you just liked being the center of attention, so you let yourself pretend you were his bride in your daydreams. Separating daydreams from rational thoughts was mandatory, because you weren’t sure how you’d explain to yourself that you can’t stand seeing Dream marry someone else.

Dream, the infamous hopeless romantic, still seemed out of it, maybe even a little emotional, despite not being that close with either of the two. He was probably thinking about his own wedding as well, thinking about his future, the face he’d see when he pulled back the veil.

Just then, his eyes darted to yours, and you realised you were caught staring, snapping your head back to the couple that started reading their vows by now. You started going red from the neck up, cheeks on fire as you could feel his gaze burning into you. He turned back after a few seconds, though, probably assuming you stared at him because you were bored, and neither of you spoke, even though you kind of wish you did. What even is there to say, though?

By the time you snapped back, the “I do”s were already being said, and her veil was getting lifted, showing her beauty to everyone present, and as they kissed the whole room bursted into cheers and applause in support of the newlyweds. The two exit, teary eyed, their parents follow close behind, and that’s when Dream’s family rushes both of you to your feet, following the two into the reception hall where the actual party would take place.

From then on, the wedding is the same as any other. The two have their first dance, they give a welcoming speech, and Dream lets you stuff your face with cake and repeatedly refills your wine glass as repayment for dragging you into this whole thing. At some point, he stretches his hand out to you and asks for a dance like a rom-com main character, and you’re not sure exactly why he did that because he’s mostly terrible at dancing, but you had fun letting him twirl you until you got dizzy anyway.

You also realised just how much he did actually need a fake girlfriend, because it seemed like every twenty minutes some sort of relative of his would walk up to the two of you and congratulate him on “finally getting a girlfriend”. You ended up bullying him for that as well, wondering just how long he’s been single for if they’re all this surprised that he’s got a girlfriend, to which he just downed the glass of water he’d been sipping for half an hour and asked you about the weather.

His family took a few pictures with the new couple - you even got to speak to the bride at some point, congratulating her and wishing the two of them well, but in the span of a few hours, the wedding was over and the newlyweds made a great exit, signifying the end of the party. The two of you were driven home by his parents, and you waved them goodbye as you stumbled to the front door, your heels insanely uncomfortable and the red wine in your stomach weighing down on you; you just wanted to get out of this dress and into a pair of pajamas and pass out on his couch in the living room.

That’s sort of exactly what you did - you half-assed taking your makeup off, wiping down your face a couple of times, deciding that was enough before changing into some worn pajamas and plopping down on the couch next to Dream who already claimed his place and sunk into the cushion while a random movie played on the TV. The two of you basked in the comfortable silence that surrounded you, the exhausted, tired type. You both appreciated the quiet and fell asleep sitting next to each other, wedding already forgotten.

That night, he went from Dream to Clay.

The departure was bittersweet. You left two days after that, your hug at the airport tight, warm, filled with a sugary sweet feeling you couldn’t quite place and sour acid that ate away at you because you didn’t want to leave in the slightest. His arms were warm, inviting, whispering for you to stay but you left anyway, waving him goodbye, setting off to home.

It seemed like all your problems came and went with him, because a week later, at 3 in the morning while you were up editing a video, you got an all caps message on your Discord from Sapnap.

“YOU’RE DATING DREAM?”

You blinked at your computer screen, white letters blinding you in the dark, brain trying to keep up with why he even thought that. Within 10 seconds, another message, this time from Dream.

“so i told george and sapnap that we’re dating”

“don’t kill me pls”

Yeah, you weren’t going to kill him, per se, but he definitely made your life a lot harder than it should be. You opened Discord, Premiere Pro and the unedited video abandoned, typing back to Clay quickly.

“WHY”

He responded immediately, as one panicked man does.

“they’ve been making fun of me for being single for ages now :(“

“we already did this fake dating thing before and it went perfectly fine”

“just play along for a month or so”

“pls”

You audibly sighed. And as if he could hear you, he started typing again.

“i’ll promote you on my channel more”

“just pls do it”

“you love me, right”

Another sigh fell from your lips before you could stop it. Of course you did, because if you didn’t, there’s no way you would be playing into this. You typed back.

“fine”

He messaged back immediately.

“THANK YOU”

“LOVE YOU <333”

With a shake of your head, you mumbled “idiot” with the ghost of a smile flashing on your face, switching back to your video, opting to ignore Sapnap for a little bit. He could wait.

Fake dating seemed pretty damn easy during the first week - you thought you were killing it by sending corny tweets and staged selfies so he could screenshot them and send them to the groupchat, giggling on call about how oblivious they are and how you’re fooling them so good, both of you opting to ignore the parts where they claimed they knew the two of you were gonna get together eventually. It was fun, lighthearted, and an excuse to flirt with someone you had nothing official with.

As much as all your problems came and went with Clay, though, they came and went with his friends as well, especially that hopeless man Clay called his best friend.

Because yeah, of course Sapnap was the one to accidentally spill to the public that the two of you were “dating”.

George was streaming at what was apparently a normal time in the UK, not so much for Florida, and Clay was sleeping while you were watching his stream while making some food for yourself. It was going fine, a bit of a chill stream, and you leaned against the fridge as your oven preheated, tired eyes following his Minecraft skin.

“Sophie, thank you for the dono! ‘Hey George, I love your videos, just wanted to ask if you were speedrunning with Dream today?’” he read out, and you could faintly hear Sapnap join the stream through your headphones.

“No I’m not, Dream’s… I don’t know what Dream’s doing right now, actually. He’s not responding to me, though. Probably talking to his girlfriend still.” he continued, exaggerating the last part mockingly, still playing into the whiny role of being upset that Clay was ditching the two of them for you. That majorly woke you up, though, as you stood straight on your feet immediately, because oh no, nobody was supposed to know.

You exited out of the Twitch app quickly, letting the stream play in the background as you tried to fish for Sapnap’s profile on Discord and text him as quick as possible, trying to warn him to not let anybody know, but before you could do it, you heard his laughter clear in the stream.

“Yeah, Y/N, his sweetie poo.” Sapnap said, causing George to laugh even louder, before moving onto the next topic, and your heartbeat picked up an insane amount, nails loud and probably damaging your phone screen as you typed as quickly as humanly possible to yell at him because this was not planned, at all.

You heard him go quiet after you shot him a couple of messages over Discord (“SAPNAP” “ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID” “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU” “NOBODY KNOWS YET” “IM GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU”), type something to George who then fell quiet as well for a few seconds, pure horror on his face, and then went back to streaming as if nothing happened while Sapnap profusely apologised to you on his and George’s behalf.

No apology could fix what had already been done, though, and you were left alone with the warzone that was Twitter who had already speculated the two of you were dating long before while Clay peacefully slept somewhere in his house at 4 am in Florida. You bombarded him with messages and waited until he woke up ‘cause what were you even supposed to do?!

You chose to spend your time finishing the pizza you were originally supposed to make and almost burnt your whole apartment down because you forgot the oven was on for a whole hour while yelling at Clay’s idiotic best friends. You yelled at Sapnap, who kept apologising to you, you yelled at George, who yelled back that it’s not that big of a deal because people were bound to find out anyways, and you yelled at Clay, because he was the guilty one somehow for not being awake during your breakdown.

He did eventually wake up though, to the shitshow that were his notifications with at least thirty messages from each of you, messages from his other YouTube friends who were fairly surprised, and his entire fanbase going ham on Twitter. He was surprisingly calm about it - calmer than you were, anyways, and sheepishly said over the phone that the fake dating thing may have to go on for a little longer since you couldn’t just date for a month and then break up, and you were sort of okay with that.

And of course, the business side of him awoke at that moment, and he giddily told you about the amount of views the two of you could pull if you did the same shit you do with George and Sapnap anyway, but on livestream.

You rolled your eyes.

And then agreed anyway.

And so, the charade began.

His Twitter statement was up shortly, telling the people that you’d been dating for a couple of weeks and weren’t planning to tell anybody yet until a certain someone spilled their guts live, and the fact Dream was dating someone, let alone another popular streamer, took the internet by storm. You expected hate, and you got quite a bit of that, but the people that had shipped the two of you before were certainly more than delighted and a lot of Clay’s fans were supportive.

Now, both of you had excuses to do chill streams together and just hang out and you took the opportunity and ran with it.

You’d sit and play Geoguessr or just try and speedrun Minecraft a bunch of times for hours on end, doing stupid bits and things you’d be doing offline anyways, with a little more flirting than usual, because that’s what made it interesting.

“Oh this is France, for sure.” you claimed one night, two or three weeks after the secret was officially out, chewing on the fries you bought for this specific occasion, streaming on his alt to a few thousand people.

“You think so? It could be Belgium, too.” he responded, humming in thought as he looked around.

“I know so.” you responded.

“How?”

“I just do. Gamer intuition, babe.” you said, and he wheezed at your response, repeating the words gamer intuition under his breath.

“No, seriously. It is France, I know it is, I’ve seen so many pictures of that place I know it like the back of my hand now. That’s Lyon, or something.” you continued, plopping another french fry into your mouth.

“You have? Why do you know so much about France, that’s so random.” he responded, opening the map and pointing to France, although he keeps looking around, unsure of his decision.

“I dunno, I like it there. I wish I could move there.” you replied.

“Why, though?”

“It’s pretty and heavily romanticised! Just like me!” you joked and he laughed, before letting you continue. “I dunno, it’s the city of love. Be a little romantic.”

“The… the city of love is whatever city the two of us are in.” he said, and it took a few seconds for you to process the joke before letting out a fake disappointed sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m dating someone as corny as you.”

At that, he bursts into wheezes, and you follow along, enjoying the sound of his laughter coursing through your headphones more than you used to a few weeks back. It feels nice, feels right, acting like this. You like calling him your boyfriend more than you think you should.

A few weeks go by, and it feels all too natural. It feels too natural, talking to him first thing in the morning when you’ve barely even had your coffee, calling him pet names, throwing sweet words at each other publicly like they mean nothing. It feels all too natural, and nice, and all too right, and you don’t even notice when the two of you cross the line between public and private, and you’re stuck making stupid jokes about making out when you first see each other when there’s nobody to witness them except the walls of your rooms, but you don’t like thinking about that, because you know it’ll bring nothing but confusion. The current this that the two of you have is perfect to you, perfectly lighthearted and funny and fun, and you intend on keeping it that way, refusing to think about it in any way past jokes.

That is, until you can’t anymore.

It’s late, again, and you’re staring at his contact name on your phone screen, lazily lying on the bed. It reminds you of a night from roughly 3 months ago, when your whole friendship seemed to change in the few seconds it took you to process what he’d asked of you, and it feels weird, but nice.

“My mom really likes you, you know?” Clay breaks the quiet that you’ve learned to appreciate in his presence, and you exhale through your nose, the noise just short of a chuckle.

“Yeah?” You laugh, and he does as well.

“Yeah.” He reaffirms. “She thinks you’re a great girlfriend. Apparently I seem brighter ever since we got together.”

You laugh again. “I am a great girlfriend, to be fair. She’s totally right.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know that. If you’re as good of a girlfriend as you pretend to be, though, then you’re amazing.” He says, and words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Yeah? You wanna find out?” The flirty nature is nothing strange to the two of you, but this time it feels kinda different, it feels like you’re stepping into dangerous territory that there’s no coming back from. You feel like you’ve ruined everything, for some reason.

He laughs, like normal, though. He laughs like nothing happened at all, and you’re so, so grateful for that.

“Sure, let’s do it. You’re about to unpack the full Clay boyfriend experience.” He snickers and you laugh as well.

“That means I just unlock the dick as well as the personality.” you respond, quick as always, and the wheeze that escapes him is so loud that it makes you laugh too.

“...Unlock the dick…” he repeats through another wheeze and you nod, laughing.

“Yeah! I mean I’m literally experiencing the boyfriend experience without actually having a boyfriend, it’s fuckin’ great.” you say and he hums.

“You could have one, though.”

The implications are crazy, his words are crazy, he’s crazy and everything that he could mean and couldn’t mean by that is driving you crazy too, brain faltering and heart seeming way too big for your chest to contain it. It’s silent.

“I could, I guess.”

You choose to say, and he switches the topic naturally, like he never said anything.

Things are never the same again.

It’s not in a bad way. Sure, it is kind of a bad way for the feelings you’re trying to push down inside you, a bad way for hot nights when the unbearable heat forces you to stay up even when you don’t want to and you have no choice but to think about why you feel the way you feel as you melt into the burning sheets below you, a bad way for when he jokes about finding somebody else and you feel your stomach churning. A bad way for realising that this fake dating thing is really getting to you, but not a bad way in general.

Maybe it’s in a good way. Maybe the underlying implications whenever he makes jokes about making the relationship real are good, maybe the way he calls you in the middle of the night when he’s anxious and freaking out and defends himself by saying: “You’re my girlfriend, you’re always there for me, I just figured I could call you.” and you end up wondering if it’s possible to say jokes in such a vulnerable state or if he’s serious is good, maybe the way it’s been a few months and he won’t tell his own best friends that it was a joke the whole time is good, maybe the way you confronted him about it and he said he likes having you as his girlfriend is good.

Maybe the way the two of you are always walking the line between joking and being serious, between being friends and something more, between lies and pranks and emotional investment and fear of committing, and the way you’re always trying to push the other off, is good.

The fans love it. The fanart is incredible (serves especially well for those hot nights when you can’t fall asleep and you scroll, watching yourself fall in love with Clay in every universe, tales told by people who observe your story and find it worthy enough to retell in their own words, to take the love you pretend to have and turn it into something real), people love to gush over the compliments he sprinkles in at random times during conversation and the general flirty dynamic is loved by many, pulling in more views and attraction for you.

And you suppose that’s good too, but at some point, the good warps into bad, bad warps into terrible, and you wonder if this is all even worth the sleepless nights, wondering if he feels the same way.

Those thoughts haunt you more and more often every day. When you wake up, and text him first thing in the morning, your brain acknowledges that the camera is off - nobody’s around, people aren’t listening, so why are you still playing the role of a girlfriend and starting up a conversation with him when you haven’t even brushed your teeth properly? When you’re editing in the middle of the day and he calls to keep you company, making more stupid boyfriend jokes, your stomach flips in a weird way that makes you hate him, hate the way he can joke about these things so freely, like it doesn’t hurt him. Like it doesn’t affect him like it affects you.

But, as much as you wish you could hate him, you couldn’t bring yourself to, and that was the worst part. Because, in reality, whenever he laughed you’d smile without realising you did, whenever anything exciting happened to you he was the first one you went to, whenever you wanted to laugh or cry or sit in silence for hours or complain you always went to him, the one person who you know would listen. In reality, whenever he made a joke about giving up on the fake dating and making it real, you wished so bad that he was serious this time, that this was what it took and he’d crack and all of your suffering would end.

It eventually happens.

It’s a pretty chilly morning, birds chirp outside and the sun that slowly rises is covering the kitchen floor in a golden hue as you pour milk into your cereal with one hand and hold your phone in the other, letting Clay ramble about whatever it was this time, when he brought it up.

“So, when do you wanna come down to Florida again?” he asks casually, and you almost drop the gallon of milk in your hand.

“What?”

“I said, when are you coming down to Florida again? Last time you came was pretty fun.” he says, and an empty silence follows. There’s an unsaid “I miss you” that you don’t hear, and he’s too afraid of saying it.

“Florida wasn’t exactly on my schedule this month, man.” you say, placing your phone on the counter for a second. Clay sure knew how to surprise a person.

“Well put it down, then.” he jokes, and you hum.

“What, you got another wedding coming up?” you giggle and he groans - you never really stopped making fun of him for that wedding.

“No, I don’t. Can’t a man just miss seeing his beloved girlfriend?” It’s unbelievable how quickly dread can wash over you as soon as he makes one of those jokes. You were convinced the mix of anxiety and butterflies that appears in your stomach was gonna kill you sometime soon.

“He can, he’s just being weirdly insistent.” you argue nonetheless. “But sure, I’ll consider it.”

You do more than consider it - in a few weeks, you’re back at the airport, and falling into his arms has never given you such an adrenaline rush in your whole life. Something about having him wrapped around you, close to you, the warmth of his body radiating into yours sent you spiraling, head clouded with nothing but love and the fact that you wish you could stay there forever. You wished you could press pause and cherish the moment, let yourself bask in that feeling of pure love, pure adoration that you helplessly drowned in. But you couldn’t, and you left his arms feeling oddly empty.

Hiding the fact that you were unapologetically head over heels for him proved to be a hundred times more difficult when you were right there, next to him, talking to him, when you could just kiss him any second, feel his lips on yours and nobody would stop you - the opportunity was right there, looming over you, the devil on your shoulder taunting you, telling you to do it.

You got to wake up in the same house as him, watch his hair stick out in different directions and his raspy morning voice as he complained about the smell of your coffee, watch his eyes glint whenever he talked about something he liked and observe as he carried around Patches like a little baby. You got to experience every bit of domestic without the consequences of committing, and you wondered just how far this would go. For how much longer would the two of you blatantly ignore the fact that you were a couple that slapped the title “fake” on it because you were cowards who refused to admit what this truly was.

Not for long, apparently, because you grew tired, and decided to put an end to everything on one random Thursday night - and if he hated you forever for it, then so be it.

You were sitting on his couch, watching a random movie together, drowning in one of his Dream hoodies while you chewed the popcorn he made. It was dark outside, just past midnight, and you could see the branches of a tree swaying calmly through one of the nearby windows - the silence while he scrolled through his phone lazily was comforting too, everything was lazy and serene and it would’ve been perfect if it wasn’t for the constant anxiety that gripped you by the throat whenever you were in his close proximity, the nervousness that killed you, the upset feeling of wanting to cuddle up with him but knowing you can’t because you guys are just friends, and nothing more.

The couple on the screen kiss while a violin plays in the background - how fitting. Maybe that’s what pushes you to the edge, or maybe you were just that sick and tired.

You were exhausted, beyond exhausted. Your eyes were tired, the anxiety was morphing into annoyance and anger and you were ready to give up on it all. If this ended the friendship, at least you two had a good run. Your heart couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know, you still owe me a favor in return for pretending to be your girlfriend.” you say, and you sound gone, zoned out, more than you wish you were. You hear his phone turn off with a click.

“Yeah? What do you want?” Clay asks, and you blankly stare at the TV for a few seconds before turning to face him, eyes burning.

“Kiss me.”

It’s silent. The characters on screen are arguing. You hear the wind through one of his open windows.

“What?” he asks, voice cracking, and his expression falls. You’ve fucked it. Oh well.

“I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me like someone’s watching and you wanna make it believable.” you say, eyes boring into his, your words having nowhere near as much of an effect on yourself as they do on him. Your eyes sting like they’re being lit on fire, and your throat is sort of closing up, but it’s fine. “Let me have this before I go, because once I leave, I don’t wanna do this anymore, Clay. I can’t pretend like I don’t want you to introduce me as your girlfriend and fully mean it. I can’t lie to your face anymore.”

Silence. Deafening silence, once again.

“I love you.” he blurts out, and you don’t even register it at first. “I don’t want this shit to be fake either. God, I really don’t. It hasn’t been fake for a while now, at least not on my part. I’m sorry, it’s just- it was easier to keep this bit going than it was to actually admit that I’m… into you.”

And once again, the room falls into silence, much like it always does whenever the two of you share moments like these.

And then, you burst into laughter.

“So… so you mean to tell me, that both of us have liked each other this whooooole fucking time, and just refused to admit it and ‘pretended to date’ instead?” you burst into giggles, and he looks sort of hesitant to laugh, but he does anyway.

“I mean… yeah? I was waiting for you to call me out for doing all that when nobody was watching! Why did you never call me out?! Don’t blame me, I made it so damn obvious that I wanted you!” he protests, and you almost can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Excuse me? You should’ve just fucking told me instead of making a million and one jokes about how I’m your girlfriend! We’re not in middle school, Clay!” you argue.

“Yeah, but I thought you’d catch on and talk to me about it at some point! You never called me out for anything!”

“So what, I’m supposed to just read your mind now? You’re fucking unbelievable.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away in annoyance. As soon as a warm hand lands on your shoulder, though, the annoyance melts like wax under fire, leaving nothing behind.

“I still haven’t returned that favor, you know?” he whispers in your ear, breath fanning your neck, closer than he should be. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn back to Clay, who wore a mischievous grin and a glint in his eyes that suggested no good.

You suppose bad can be good, sometimes.

As his lips press onto yours, that theory is proven true, because he sends a flicker of fire burning down your spine, spreading into your limbs, making your fingertips electric as you pulled him in closer, hand snaking up to grip at his hair - the everlasting grin against your own proves, once again, to be no good as his hands slip under your hoodie and grip your sides, but you think you enjoy this sort of bad.

They sneak up further, and you hear him chuckle into the kiss as your insides melt at his touch. The two of you silently agree that maybe he should ask for favors more often.

#dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken fluff #dreamwastaken fanfic #dreamwastaken angst #dream x reader #dream x you #dreamwastaken x y/n

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ageofnations · 2 years

Text

At My Weakest // jtk

Summary: Jake takes care of an injured reader. (request)

Word Count: ~3.8k

Warnings: INJURY (broken wrist, nothing descriptive), hospital setting, treatment for injury (casts, painkillers), brief nudity, vague mentions of sexual activities, fluff. so much fluff. (as always, lemme know if i need to add anything)

A/N: i've never broken a bone (knock on wood plz), so i did my absolute best with the research i could gather. if something isn't exactly accurate, just forgive me

——————————

“I can’t believe you’re taking me to the hospital, Jake.” You huffed in the passenger seat. You glared at your boyfriend, pouting as he drove well over the speed limit to get you to your destination. “I swear it’s probably just sprained.”

He looked distressed, panicked that you were hurt. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, and his eyes were darting back and forth between the lanes in front of him. “I just want to play it safe, okay? I’ll feel bad if it’s more than a sprained wrist and we didn’t get it checked out. Plus, even a sprain should be treated.”

You sighed dramatically and slumped in your seat. You tried to cross your arms, but as soon as your wrist came in contact with your other arm, you felt a searing pain that made you wince.

“See?” Jake said as he snapped his head to you briefly. “Just relax. We’ll be there soon.”

“Like I’m the one that needs to relax.” You rolled your eyes at him and looked out the window at the other cars you were whizzing by.

You knew you were being a little unfair to him, considering he was only trying to make sure you were okay, but the humiliation of getting hurt and being babied was far too distracting.

Before all of this, you had been play-fighting with him in his living room. He had moved the couches, the coffee tables, the decor, all so you could rough-house together. It turned into something more like a tickle fight, and soon enough, he was chasing you around the moved furniture while you giggled like little school children. But after a while, you spent the majority of your energy trying to catch your breath, and your steps were growing lazier and lazier as you fled. It all ended with your foot catching the edge of the rug and you stupidly putting your hand out to catch yourself before you fell.

The embarrassment was what muddled the sensation of the injury. You could feel your wrist pulsing, but the collection of hot tears was the most painful portion of the situation. You felt bad for draining the moment of its humor and amusement. You felt bad for making Jake’s joyful grin turn into an expression of concern.

That expression never changed as you made the journey to the hospital. He handled you like you were bound to break in his hands at any moment. From carrying you to the car, walking you through the building’s doors, and holding your opposite hand while you waited for the results of the X-ray, he held that same manner. His eyebrows were furrowed, knees bouncing, thumb rubbing the top of yours. He was worried, and while it perturbed you slightly, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of endearment in his anxiety-ridden state.

“Hey,” you whispered to him. His features immediately softened as he saw your smile. “I’m okay. Stop it before we have to get you a room to treat your hypertension.”

The laugh he let out echoed against the walls of the small room, and you were thankful to see his shoulders shake with each noise. He seemed to relax, although a hint of nervousness rushed back through him when the doctor returned to the room. He still somehow remained the most calm out of the two of you once the news had been broken.

“5 weeks?!” You questioned. “A cast for 5 weeks?”

“Ma’am, you fractured your wrist, and while it is a lengthy amount of time, you’re extremely lucky that it’s not worse than it is,” the doctor explained. Her look of pity shifted between you and Jake while she talked. “We’ll continue to monitor it to ensure it’s healing correctly, but we’d like to get the cast on as soon as the swelling goes down.”

Jake had done the majority of the talking, explaining that you’d be willing to take the earliest appointment to get your cast put on and participate in whatever other treatments would help. Meanwhile, you continued your sulking while he rubbed a reassuring hand over your knee. When the doctor left to confirm your appointment and complete your paperwork, Jake turned to you with a prideful grin on his face, much different than the original expression he had been wearing.

“Told you you needed to come to the hospital.”

- Week 1 -

“Shit!” Your exclamation rang through the dining room. You were trying to enjoy a bowl of cereal for breakfast, but with the cast on your dominant hand, you were still having trouble learning how to do things with the other hand. The daunting task of picking up your spoon seemed futile. The metal kept slipping from your grasp and clattering against the glass bowl that housed the soggy flakes you claimed as your meal.

You heard footsteps hurrying down the hallway from your bedroom. “Babe?” Jake called out to you as he rounded the corner. You could see he was out of breath from the pace he had run at. “Are you okay? What happened?”

He was still in his plain t-shirt and boxers he had worn to bed. His hair was tied back in a loose braid, and a few stray hairs framed his face from falling out of the plait. You could tell he had just woken up, but his wide eyes did well at trying to hide that fact. His disheveled and frantic state made you blush, but the frustration kept you from smiling fully. “I’m fine, Jake,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat out of defeat. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“No, you didn’t I just-” he paused as he noticed the bowl in front of you. He looked back up at you apologetically. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hungry? I would’ve come to help you.”

You sighed and shook your head. “I wanted to try it myself this time. I’m not really hungry anymore, though.”

He playfully rolled his eyes at you, recognizing your lie from miles away. “Come on, you need to eat something. Let me make you some pancakes or something, and I’ll help you.”

“Jake-”

“Love, I know you really want to do this on your own, and you will. But for now, you’ve got to let me help you.” He was already in the process of setting out pans and mixing bowls before he finished his sentences.

You let your shoulders drop as you let his words sink in, finally coming to terms with the circumstances. “Okay…”

He made his way back to you, planting a kiss to your temple as he removed the bowl of mush from in front of you. “Thank you, baby. I promise you’re in good hands.” He winked before turning his back to continue walking to the kitchen.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled under your breath with a genuine smile on your face.

“What was that?” Jake hollered over the running faucet. “Was that a “Thank you, Jakey,” that I heard?”

You could hear the smirk he was wearing, and it only made you smile more. It lifted your spirits just enough to forget about your previous frustrations and give him the answer he sarcastically asked for.

“Yep! Thank you, Jakey.”

His chuckle was husky, but it was still loud enough to reach you. “There ya go. Now, you want blueberries or chocolate chips?”

- Week 2 -

You had gotten much better with using your nondominant hand to eat, so you were happy to check at least one thing off of the growing list of things you struggled with. You were realizing how hard it was to brush your hair or your teeth with the opposite hand. And texting seemed almost impossible with one thumb to do all of the work. You eventually just told all of your immediate friends and family to get in touch with Jake if they had an emergency. He was always there to help in any way he could.

As soon as you woke up each morning, the first words out of his mouth were some variation of “You okay?” He wanted to be sure that you slept well and that you had not slept in a position to make your condition worse. After you’d answer, he would also plant the gentlest of kisses on the rough bandage of your cast.

This morning, though, you woke up a little later than you normally did, and Jake was already up and out of bed. You were a little disappointed, but you heard the shower turn off soon after your wake, so you knew you would see him soon enough.

He came out of the master bathroom with a towel wrapped around his lower half and was working on drying his hair with another towel. He was a sight for sore eyes, but his figure only reminded you of how much you had missed letting your hands roam the expanse of his body.

“Good morning, love.” Once he saw you were awake, he tossed the towel in his hand to the side and made his way to you. He bent down to give you, and your wrapped wrist, a sweet kiss. He smiled down at your groggy expression, running a hand through your hair. “We leave for your checkup in about 45 minutes if that’s okay?”

You melted into his touch and nodded. “I really don’t wanna get up though.”

“I know, I didn’t either. But we’ve gotta make sure you’re on the mend, right?” He looped a strand of your hair around his pointer and middle finger and let it twist around the digits. “Let me help you up. Wanna try taking a shower?”

You begrudgingly allowed his assistance as he pulled you to a sitting position with your legs off the side of the bed. You shook your head. “Too much work. Plus, I can't get this thing wet.”

“You won’t have to,” he beamed at you.

Before you could fully form a curious and questioning look in response, Jake dropped the towel that was wrapped around his waist. Of the many times you had seen him naked, you still blushed like a teenager at the sight.

“Wait-“ you were interrupted by him picking you up bridal style, effortlessly coaxing a loud squeal and array of giggles from you. “Jake!”

He laughed along with you while he carried you to the bathroom. It was still slightly humid from his shower, and the glass of the sliding door was still covered with steam. The tile floor was still somehow cold against your feet compared to the other sections of the room. His hands grazed under your shirt, and he caught your lips in another kiss after sitting you down.

“Can I take these off of you?” His words were a mere whisper, vibrating against your lips as if he was telling you a secret that only you were meant to hear.

You busied yourself with his lips again, providing a nod as your answer. He raised the shirt over your head, careful to not let the fabric catch your cast. You let your arms drape around his neck for balance as he worked on your shorts and underwear. He never separated from you, other than to let out breaths of giddy laughter.

He gripped your hips while you shared one last, passionate kiss. “Come on,” he said, nuzzling his cheek against yours. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You felt a little silly holding your arm out of the shower, but Jake only focused on the task at hand. He was mindful of every part of you, cleansing every inch of your body and finishing each portion with a kiss. He dried and dressed you before leading you to the car to commence the drive to your appointment.

- Week 3 -

You hadn’t had any trouble with managing the pain up until this point. You assumed the throbbing pain in your wrist was what woke you out of your slumber. It hadn’t bothered you much, but it was unrelenting tonight. Darkness filled the room, and you hoped Jake’s snores covered the wincing you tried, and failed, to contain.

You attempted to shift out of the bed without waking the sleeping boy beside you. Luckily, he had stolen the majority of the comforter throughout the night, giving you fewer restraints in the task. However, you still pressed a little too hard on your injured arm, eliciting a soft groan that you couldn’t muffle if you tried.

Jake’s snoring stopped, but he didn’t seem to wake. He only switched the position he was lying in, his bare back now towards you.

You used the opportunity to fully rise from the bed and scurry to grab the bottle of painkillers stowed away in the medicine cabinet. You peeked back at him to make sure the noise hadn’t woke him. Even then, he was lying still and facing away from you. You rushed to the kitchen so you could avoid making any other noises in the room.

Child-proof medicine bottles were one of the best inventions you could think of, but right now, you cursed their existence. It was hard enough to open them with two working hands, but with one out of commission, it was virtually impossible.

You tried holding the bottle between your legs and twisting the cap. You tried tucking it under your arm to have a better grasp on it. You tried opening it with your teeth. Nothing worked, and you dropped the bottle countless times. You were growing more and more frustrated as the pain seemed to get worse with each try.

You sighed and looked at the cast. You could try to use your dominant hand, and while it would hurt like hell, you’d be able to find relief soon afterward. You were about to grasp the bottle with your confined hand when you heard shuffling behind you.

“Hey hey hey…” Jake rushed out. You dropped the bottle at the sound of his voice. He bent to pick it back up and continued. “You’re gonna hurt yourself doing that, love.”

“Did I wake you?” You mumbled, ignoring his chastising.

He gave you a disapproving smile, one you could barely see under the moonlight peaking through the blinds. “No, but you should’ve.” He twisted the cap with ease and shook a couple of the tablets out. “It’s hurting again?”

You nodded and took the tablets into your palm. “Just a little.”

“Seemed to be more than ‘just a little’ don’t ya think?” He teased, kissing your cheek. “Hold on.”

He turned around and grabbed a cup to fill with water. You admired his back muscles, specifically how his shoulders flexed as he moved to turn the tap off. You noticed he was yawning when he turned back to you, holding the cup out for you to retrieve.

You thanked him and swallowed the pills, washing them down with the cool water he had gathered. He stood impossibly close to you and looked down at your form while you sipped at the liquid. You could tell he was still half awake, but his smile told you that he was devoting the entirety of his attention to you. His expression was one of adoration, of love.

You wondered how he managed to cherish you as much as he did after these few weeks. You knew you probably were a pain in his ass with your stubbornness, but if he was ever frustrated with you, he didn’t let any of it show. In fact, he seemed to love you harder with each passing day.

- Week 4 -

You tried to get him to lay back down with you. You used every strategy you knew of to hopefully get him back to you. But you were becoming fond of watching him while you laid on the couch. It was endearing in a way.

Although he claimed today would be a “lazy day” after you got back from another appointment, Jake had managed to wash the dishes, take out the trash, and dust the counters. He was now working on vacuuming the carpeted areas of the house and sweeping the floors.

You turned around in your seat and propped your chin on the back of the couch, watching him empty the dustpan into the kitchen’s garbage can. “You know I can help you right?”

Jake paused to give you yet another disapproving look. “I do know that.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“I promise I’ve got it,” he said, adding a wink to the end of his statement. “Just sit there and look pretty, darling.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “That’s your job.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?”

You knew he was fishing for a compliment, and you knew he was aware that you thought of him as the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, but you didn’t wanna waste a moment to flatter him.

“You know I do, Jakey.”

He finished putting away the broom and cleaning supplies and returned to you, giving you a kiss as a thank you. “Just missing a cheesy maid’s uniform, right?”

“Huh?” You exclaimed with a laugh. You knew you heard him correctly, but the image of Jake dressed as a maid both made you giggle and become a little flustered.

He snickered at you and plopped beside you on the couch. “You wanna watch a movie?”

- Week 5 -

You were in your last week of being in the cast, and you couldn’t have been more thankful. Your wrist rarely hurt, and you swore you could use it if Jake would let you. But he didn’t. He sometimes didn’t even let you tag along when he’d go on errands, too afraid you’d insist on helping him when you shouldn’t.

Like today, he needed to get a new shirt to wear to a wedding you both were attending. He said he’d be picking up a couple of groceries afterward, so he wanted you to stay home while he did the shopping. You were a little disappointed you wouldn’t be able to watch him try on the variety of shirts he was destined to find, but he made up for it, sending you mirror selfies with each of his options. Although they all looked extremely similar, just another button up that was only fastened with two of the bottom buttons.

You were eager for him to come back. You were practically standing at the window while you waited for him to grab the bags from his car. You opened the door for him and immediately reached for some of the bags in his grasp.

“Nope,” he said, pulling away from you. “Go sit down, lemme get this. There isn’t much.”

You pouted at him, but you followed his directions nonetheless. You sat on your knees, facing the kitchen so you could watch him while he worked. He hummed while he unpacked the groceries and put them away. You noticed he was avoiding a smaller bag, one that had the name of the department store he went to to get his shirt from. However, the fabric that was housed in the bag was a bright red, and the shirt he claimed he got was a dark, navy blue.

“What’s that?” You questioned, pointing at the bag.

He glanced at it, as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. He wore a knowing smile but answered with a simple string of words. “My shirt.”

You glared at your boyfriend and his smug look. “Didn’t think red was your style,” you quipped.

He laughed. “Ohhh, that. It might be a little gift for you.” He turned to put the milk in the fridge and tried to remain as nonchalant as possible.

“A gift?!” You jumped off of the couch and essentially ran to his side.

“Careful,” he reminded. “Can’t have you breaking your other wrist just days before you get full access to this one.”

You responded by rolling your eyes at him and motioning to the bag.

Jake slid the plastic bag closer to you and watched as you pulled the piece of bright fabric out. It was thin and lacey. You didn’t have to wonder for too long once it was completely in your hand. You raised your eyebrow at him.

“Well I guess it’s kind of a gift for me…” His voice trailed off, and he seemed to be a little bashful about choosing the lingerie.

A fiery blush rose to your cheeks to match the red set in your hand.

“You don’t have to wear it… if you don’t like it. I just thought it’d look really, really nice on you.”

His softness made you smile. “Bet it’ll pair very well with this, huh?” You lifted your casted hand.

“Absolutely,” he said with a smirk.

— — —

You looked down at it, like it was some foreign object that you had never seen before. You thought you’d never get used to the cast, but with it no longer obscuring your view, you found that you had to adjust to being able to look down without seeing the array of bandages.

Jake looked at you from the driver’s side. He had one hand on the wheel with his other on your thigh. He seemed to still feel the need to take care of you in some way, despite not necessarily having an injury anymore.

It felt strange, thinking about how things would probably go back to normal now. You’d help him with chores, errands, household tasks. You wouldn’t need his assistance with eating or showering. You were glad to not need his help, but you knew you’d miss it.

“What are you thinking about?” He questioned. You hadn’t talked much on the drive home, and he was always good at reading your body language.

You shrugged. “Thank you… for everything these past few weeks. I know I was a pain in the ass.”

“Never, my love. Thank you for letting me help you. I’m glad I could be what you needed.”

“You’re always what I need,” you spoke through a breathy giggle.

He laughed with you, but let the road noise fill the comfortable silence between you both. His thumb rubbed the top of your thigh, a sign of reassurance, although you weren’t sure what for.

“I think I’m gonna try that red set on when we get home.”

He turned back to you with a look of enthused surprise. “Didn’t the doctor say to “take it easy” though?”

“That just means you have to take it easy,” you teased, adding “…sir.” to further drive in your point.

He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Yep, you’re trying on the red set as soon as we get in the door.”

-fin :)

taglist (click here to join!): @fireandsaltydogs @teenagesublimefan @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @weightofdreamz @gretavancreep @joshkiszkas @streamsofstardust @kdarling1 @gretavanflipflop @stardustingold @tripthelight-fanfic @gmolszewski @loofypoofy @the-chaotic-cow @gretavanpoguelife @doodle417 @gretavanfleas @myownparadise96 @stardustdanny @jakeyboiiiiiii @jakeydoesit @fan-girl-97 @welightthefire @maedesculpaeusoubi @josiee-gvf @brokenbellz @sammysvanfeet @streamingcolors-gvf @groggyvanfleet

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reminiscingtonight · 3 years

Note

Hiiii big fan of ur blog. Ik it’s not a song but I’d love for you to write this request with a sound?

https://youtu.be/7nQ2oiVqKHw

P.O.V. Reader is in the room next to Wanda and vision and hears this noise all night long. 🥰

The Competition

Steve was the first one to notice your disheveled state the next morning.

Hair sticking up all over the place, eyes sunken beneath deep bags, you were the embodiment of the walking dead.

When you grunted out a mumbled response to his cheery 'good morning,' Steve couldn't hold in the chuckles.

"What happened?"

At that particular moment, Wanda and Vision come strolling into the kitchen. Gleaming with their hands clasped in the other's, you're not sure how they managed to look so refreshed given all the things you heard last night.

"They happened."

Freezing in her steps, Wanda gives you a startled look. "What did we do?"

You narrow your eyes at her. "Don't try to act all innocent, Ms. Maximoff."

At her confused expression, you let out a low breath of air. "If I have to hear the windows start up sound one more time, I will not hesitate to take a dive off the roof."

The witch instantly turns red at your words. Mouth dropping open, she does her best to stutter out an explanation for the things you heard. "I-- I was just showing Vision how to use a laptop last night."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, you were showing him something alright."

At this point, Natasha puts her mug down on the counter, eyeing the three of you. "Windows start up..."

You turn to face her. "What about it?"

"Is that...?"

"Vis jizzing off? I think so."

If possible, Wanda's face flushes even redder.

Natasha leans towards you, face resting against her hand. "How does that even work?"

You shrug.

She turns to Wanda. "How does that even work?"

Vision, who up to this point remained completely silent, opens his mouth, ready to give an explanation. Wanda instantly slaps a hand over his mouth before he could get a word out.

"I totally forgot. We have to go do some training with Sam. Bye!"

Natasha snickers at their departing figures, only stopping when you pick up her discarded cup. Rolling her eyes at you, she gets up to pour herself a new one.

"Did you really have to embarrass the poor girl like that?"

You raise an eyebrow at Steve. "Embarrass her? Oh no, no. My dear captain, embarrassing her is only the beginning."

Chuckling under your breath, you turn your attention to the former assassin. She gives you a questioning look.

"Oh, you can bet that I'm going to get my revenge."

Taking a second to finish off Natasha's cup of coffee, you casually set the cup down before batting your eyelashes at the redhead. "Natalia, do you mind doing me the honors?"

All Steve had to do was take a look at your devilish grin to know that something bad was about to happen.

And thus began the moan-off.

Night after night, the compound was forced to hear the sounds of you and Natasha and Wanda and Vision as the four of you competed to see who could be louder in their rooms at night.

You woke up sore as hell every day but it was totally worth it too see Wanda's annoyed expression at yet another sleepless night.

Your and Natasha's noises would only urge Wanda to make her own the next night with Vision, and this cycle continued until the four of you were doing the dirty-dirty with your respective partners nearly every night.

It was during times like these that the others silently thanked Tony for making the four of you share a floor separate from the rest of the team.

Despite the amount of energy spent keeping up with your late-night activities, the competition actually ended before the two week mark, when Pepper accidentally found herself on the wrong floor late at night.

Horrified at the noises she was forced to endure in the three minutes it took the elevator to come back, the lot of you woke up the next morning to find a notice pinned to the kitchen bulletin board.

[Next person to pull an all-nighter having sex will spend the next month wearing a Chasity belt. Do not fucking test me. -Pepper Potts]

The compound became surprisingly quiet after that.

--------------

A/N: All I have to say is that somebody needs to take away @vancityfire13's ability to ask things anonymously.

Taglist: @olsensnpm, @invictusbabey, @idek-5, @vancityfire13, @magicallymaximoff

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #mcu x reader #drabble #Ace writes

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lxvislxdy · 3 years

Text

Lock and Key | Bakugou K.

Summary: It all started out as a harmless prank - Denki’s idea, to get the two of you to talk. It was no secret that you had feelings for Bakugou Katsuki, at least, not amongst your friends. Denki had meant well, sure, when he’d handcuffed the two of you together, but when the key goes missing... well, let’s just say, it’s gonna be a long 24 hours.

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x reader

Warning(s): Swearing, that should be it

Notes: Reminder that my requests are open! Let me know what you’d like to see on my page! Hope you enjoy this cute little fic for Bakugou :) I just wanted to write something soft and lighthearted, and cute, so this is that.

You were going to kill Denki. That is, if Bakugou didn’t get to him first.

“Calm down, Bakubro! Murdering one of our classmates would not be very manly of you!”

And if it wasn’t for Kirishima, holding Bakugou back with all of his strength and giving you a sympathetic look as you were dragged along, Denki would’ve been toast. Literally.

“Look, man, I’m sorry!” Denki was saying, hiding behind Mina and Sero, “It’s just a prank, dude, a joke! Don’t kill me!”

“I’m gonna end you, spark plug!” Bakugou growled, “Get over here and get this shit off of me!”

Sero, barely holding back his laughter, said, “Aw, come on, Bakugou, I wouldn’t call y/n ‘shit’!”

For a moment, Bakugou blinks like he’s stunned, but then his murderous glare returns ten fold. “That’s... That’s not even what I meant, dunce face! I meant the handcuffs! Get. Them. OFF!”

You know, from the look Mina is sending you, that you’re blushing.

“Okay!” Kaminari scrambles out from behind the two, smiling sheepishly as he searches all his pockets, “No worries, man, let me just... let me... get the... key...”

Bakugou finally settles down, and you breathe a sigh of relief as he drops his hand, yours falling with it. You rub at your wrist lightly, eyebrows drawn together. You’d been handcuffed to Bakugou for almost ten minutes now, and your wrist was already sore from being yanked around so much.

“What’s taking so long, dunce face?” Bakugou grumbles.

“Well, you see, uhm... okay, listen, don’t be... don’t be mad, bro, just...” Kaminari laughs, eyes wide in fear, voice dropping so low you could hardly hear him, “I can’t exactly find it.”

You yelp in surprise as Bakugou activates his quirk, feeling the heat against the back of your hand.

“What did you say?!”

Everyone winces as he yells, face almost as red as Kirishima’s hair.

“Careful, dude, don’t burn her!” Kirishima says, hand on Bakugou’s shoulder.

Bakugou shoves him off, but listens to him nonetheless, and the heat subsides.

“It’s okay, Kiri, I’m fine.” You tell him quietly.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Denki says, guiltily.

“Yeah, you’re about to be real sorry.” Bakugou says, “If you don’t get these off in the next five seconds!”

“Look, let’s just calm down for a minute, okay?” You say, stepping between the two. You feel Bakugou’s arm tug back against yours, as you move farther away from him, and your blush deepens. “Sorry. Anyway... why don’t we just see if Momo can make an extra key? Right?"

“That’s a good idea!” Kirishima says, optimistically. “See? Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, why didn’t I think of that?” Kaminari scratches his head.

“Because you’re an idiot.” Bakugou mutters darkly.

Mina purses her lips, shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Yeah, that would be great... Except Momo is visiting her parents, and won’t be back till later tonight.”

And just like that, Bakugou explodes again. “WHAT?!”

...

After a stressful call with Momo, involving Bakugou taking the phone from Mina not once, but twice, and telling her to ‘get her and her stupid ass ponytail back to UA NOW!’, it’s finally decided that you’ll just have to wait it out. Even Bakugou can’t say he’d rather go to Aizawa, because explaining this meant explaining the handprint shaped burns in Denki’s door.

Of course, Momo promises to help as soon as she’s back, but that’s still hours and hours away.

Bakugou, who still practically had steam coming out of his ears, sat beside you on the couch silently. Across from you, the rest of the group watched in sympathy (and fear). No one dared to break the silence, in fear he’d blow up on them again. You couldn’t say you blamed them.

“Come on.” Bakugou’s sudden command startles you.

“What? Where are we going?” You ask, following his lead and standing up (you were getting dragged along, either way).

He rolls his eyes, sighing, “I don’t know, but I’m not just gonna sit around like an idiot all day.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, marching out of the room. You look over your shoulder on your way out, a silent cry for help, and Denki has the audacity to give you a thumbs up and wink. You glare at him, sending your friends into a laughing fit.

“What are they laughing at?” Bakugou mutters, brow raised.

You flush in embarrassment, shrugging. “Dunno.”

The two of you eventually end up in the kitchen. You knew Bakugou could cook, everyone did because he regularly kicked everyone out of the kitchen so he could, but you’d never actually seen him in action. He was much calmer now that the two of you were alone, but the scowl never left his face.

After a few minutes of awkwardly trailing behind him as he gathered ingredients, you mustered up the courage to ask, “Can I help?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, and you begin to think he’ll just ignore you, before he’s handing you a spoon. “You stir while I chop vegetables. I don’t trust you with a knife.”

Ignoring the backhanded comment, you take the spoon from him, happy he’s letting you help. You stir with one hand, resting the other on the counter beside him, so he can use both hands to chop the vegetables. It’s not easy, trying to cook while handcuffed to the angry blonde, but the two of you eventually find a rhythm.

“So what are you making?” You ask, turning to look at him. His focus is all on what he’s doing, and he looks so serious you try your best not to giggle. Does Bakugou ever just... relax? Still, the way his lower lip just barely juts out and his brow furrows, when he concentrates hard, is really cute.

“We’re making zosui.”

You’re heart does a little flip as he says ‘we’. He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know that, but you still have to turn away in an attempt to hide your smile. As mad as you were at Denki, you had to admit that being able to actually spend time with Bakugou doing something so... normal, domestic? It was nice. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about a moment like this (except, in your daydreams, you weren’t handcuffed, and maybe there was kissing involved), but you’d never thought it would actually happen. The only time you got to spend time with him outside of class, normally, was if you asked for help with the homework or agreed to spar. But that was rare, these days. Bakugou normally sparred with Kirishima, anyway, and you always felt like a bother when you asked for help.

Sneaking another look at Bakugou, you find he’s already looking at you. He takes the spoon from you, gently bumping his hip into yours to move you out of the way, and you watch as he adds the veggies to the soup. As he stirs them in, he asks you to hand him the spices he’d set out beforehand.

“What, have you never seen someone cook before?” He asks.

You laugh sheepishly, “I ate a lot of microwave dinners growing up.”

The look he gives you is incredulous, borderline angry, and he scoffs. “You’re kidding. That shits terrible for you!”

You laugh, wrinkling your nose.

He meets your eyes for a moment, lips parted slightly, and you raise a brow at him. Before you can ask, his attentions is back on the soup, and he’s quiet again.

It doesn’t take long for the soup to be done, then, after he adds the rice. And you have to admit, even though you hadn’t helped much, you do feel a sense of accomplishment when you sit down to eat a meal that you made yourself.

The two of you sit down beside each other, forced to scoot your chairs so close that your thighs are almost touching. Surprisingly, he doesn’t complain.

“Thank you,” You say quietly, before digging in. “Wow! This is delicious!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He rolls his eyes, but you recognize the slightly smug look on his face. “You helped.”

You giggle, bumping shoulders with him. “Sure, but you’re the chef, here!”

He hid it behind another bite of food, but you could have sworn you saw him smile, too.

The two of you finish your meal in silence, Bakugou waiting with surprising patience for you to finish eating, before putting the bowls in the sink.

“Thanks.”

He gives you a look, “For what?”

For being so nice.

“For teaching me how to cook!”

He shrugs, muttering out ‘whatever’ in reply.

“So... what do you want to do know?” You ask, hoping his tolerance for your company would last.

You end up back in his dorm, awkwardly huddled together at the head of his bed. He was reading, as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. The silence wasn’t awkward, like you’d thought it would be. It was comfortable, almost calming. You found yourself getting tired, the more you sat there.

Eventually growing bored of your phone, you turned to see what Bakugou was reading, and started reading the pages yourself. You didn’t think he’d noticed, until he slipped his finger behind the next page to turn it, and paused.

“You done?” He said, quiet and soft, his cheeks tinted the slightest pink.

Your eyes widened, blushing, “Uh, yeah. S-Sorry.”

He turned the page without another word, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You tried to ignore him, pretending to read, before he sighed.

And then, Bakugou began to read to you.

“W-What are you doing?”

He stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Reading, dumbass.” He snapped. “You read slower than me, it’s annoying.”

Despite the backhanded remark, you grinned. “Oh. Okay.”

He started again, sounding significantly less irritated, and you tried to slow the beating of your heart. In all the times you’d imagined hanging out with Bakugou, you had never thought of something this sweet. You especially hadn’t anticipated his voice ever being this soft, and calming.

As he read to you, you shifted closer, eventually resting your head on his shoulder. He faltered for a minute, hiding his fumble with a cough, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the next chapter that he realized you’d fallen asleep.

And he definitely wasn’t blushing, no, not Bakugou.

Hours later, when Momo and all your friends piled into his room, he whispered harshly, “Wake her up, and I’ll kill you!”

Maybe Denki’s plan had worked out, after all.

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takuyakistall · 3 years

Text

to yuu.

Note: I wanted to write short HCs for each character as they wrote the letter when I finished reading everyone's thank you messages (◕ᴗ◕✿) ! All of them are very cute and I couldn't help but get some midnight rot so I had to write it down. Here's the link to the post where every message is listed down. Before you start reading, just a heads up, most of these are written in a romantic light. I also recommend reading the letters themselves first before heading here.

Characters: All students + Grim (Excluding Ortho)

Riddle Rosehearts

"Dear friend," Riddle thought that it was the most appropriate way to address you—or at least, that's what his brain is trying to make him think. Ever since overblotting and you helping him snap out of his frenzy, he had difficulty in labeling what exactly you were to him.

Before everything, you were supposed to be just a mere acquaintance to him and yet here you were sending him gifts out of the blue. The general "rule" towards receiving gifts was to give the giver your thanks. Albeit the better option was to thank you personally, he thought that maybe a letter would be better so that he can sort out his thoughts.

Friend. He nodded, proceeding to write down the rest of his message until he realized that this was an opportunity to invite you to tea with him under the pretense of paying you back for the gift. He furrowed his eyebrows slightly as he continued writing.

Surely, you would accept his invitation, right?

Trey Clover

"Hey you," was that too casual? Too rude sounding? Trey shook his head as he stared at the two words. He hadn't been expecting a gift from you and frankly, he was more than a bit surprised. Though perhaps he hadn't read the "gift" part when he suddenly started writing down questions about what you liked.

He immediately started thinking of how he should pay you back—gifts? He doesn't know your taste that well. Favours? Hmm, he's not too sure about that one. That's why he decided to ask, if there was something you wanted—he'll do his best to find it for you. A tempting offer, right?

It seems like you have to tell him that this wasn't a trade.

Cater Diamond

"Helloooooo," he started off. The extra amount of Os he used was proof that he's trying to take this occurrence casually. Though in the inside he was absolutely beaming. Gifts never fail to put a smile on his face, especially if it came from someone you didn't expect to give you a gift or someone special to him.

In this case, it was probably the latter. He took a small break as he stared at your gift, wondering what he should write. A small smile took over his face as he picked up his phone and snapped a few selfies of him with your gift with a caption before hitting the post button.

"Received a gift from a dear friend, isn't it amazing? ♪"

Deuce Spade

"Friend," Deuce rarely got to experience receiving gifts from friends to one another judging how his past years were spent as a delinquent. To say that he was happy to receive one from you was an understatement, he was over the moon.

He felt the need to mention it to you with a huge grin on his face. He thought of various ways to give you something back as he let out a small hum, he felt like he was having a field day. He signed the message and told himself that today was going to be a great day.

Ace Trappola

"Hey you," Ace was terribly suspicious of the fact that you sent him a gift out of the blue. Were you trying to buy him silence over something you did? Were you trying to convince him to do your homework for you? A lot of questions springed up inside his mind but not once did he think that it was just a genuine, sweet gift with no ulterior motives hidden beneath.

He knew that you would get mad at him if he continued to suspect you so he said that he was kidding in all caps with three dots after that—which didn't help his situation at all.

He felt awkward trying to convey his feelings like this and he ruffled his own hair as he told you that he just needed to tell you something later, when you're face-to-face. That would make it easier for him to speak.

Leona Kingscholar

"Good day," Leona uncharacteristically typed. He felt like he was being held at gunpoint by his past etiquette teachers as he tried to think of an appropriate response. If it were up to him, he would've just slapped a "thank you" on a piece of paper and asked Ruggie to give it to you.

Though he thought that perhaps it was better for him to actually put in effort for once. Even if it seemed like his so called effort seemed like something he just stole from the internet—that was more than enough, right? He'll just put his signature at the bottom and ask Ruggie to give it to you.

Ruggie Bucchi

"Hey you," a big grin took over his face as he wrote down his first few words. He wasn't as experienced as other people when it came to writing down messages of gratitude, he once tried consulting Leona about it—asking how to make it sound decent only to be met with an answer that went like: "Just put whatever."

And that's what he did! Truly, he's thankful for receiving a gift. For a split second, he wondered if he should share it with the people back in his homeland. Though he pushed that thought to the back of his head as he signed the bottom of the paper with his signature. He'll figure that out once he gives the letter to you.

Jack Howl

"Friend," he doesn't know what to say it's embarassing. Even in letters, he still manages to retain that straightforward yet somewhat roundabout personality of his. A tinge of embarrassment seeping through the letter.

He wished he could've just talked to you in person instead but alas, he was stuck here trying to rack his brain for words. In the end, he felt like it was best to keep it simple—the slightly demanding tone at the end was the result of him getting flustered at the thought that it's possible that it could be a date between the two of you.

Azul Ashengrotto

"My dear friend," Azul couldn't count the number of times he had crumpled a piece of paper and threw it into the trashcan only to get a new one—rinse and repeat. Jade and Floyd had to stifle their laughter when they saw how distressed he was over a single message. Though, perhaps that was the fruit of his unconventional feelings towards the giver.

He didn't want to sound too stiff and professional to the point that he sounded like a robot but also, he didn't want to sound too casual to the point that you might find it weird. He had to let out a small sigh as he ruffled his hair, another piece of paper thrown into the trash can before deciding that he should just play it safe and give you a free drink.

Jade Leech

"To my dearest," oh no. His hand slipped and accidentally made his greeting more intimate than it should be, he could go back and change it but—fufu, where's the fun in all of that? His lips tugged up into a smirk as he continued writing, knowing full well that what he was implying would evoke an interesting reaction out of you. But, if that wasn't enough to stir you up a bit then why not put a little more something? He was a prick this way.

He spotted an empty space on one of his shelves in the corner of his eye, glancing at it for a few seconds before an idea popped into his head. A smile that barely showed off his sharp canines, hidden beneath his gloved hand.

"Truly. Would I lie to you?"

Floyd Leech

"Little shrimpy," he grinned. Floyd was in an especially good mood today after receiving such a thoughtful gift from you. He played with his pen in hand, spinning it around as a distant look took over his face when he tried thinking about the reason why you gave him a gift out of nowhere.

Knowing that Floyd pays a little more attention to you than others, he was bound to be curious and he was more than eager to find out—there's always a reason behind someone's actions, after all. He tried expressing his intent to get the answer out of you which came out a little threatening but if you saw the look on his face there's no mistaking that it was an even bigger threat than you initially thought.

Kalim Al-Asim

"Hey love," Kalim was as straightforward as ever. Not a single filter as he wrote down his raw feelings. There was no reason for him to hesitate especially now that he was practically about to shake from pure joy—he was incredibly close to signing the letter and hopping into his magic carpet to give it to you personally but Jamil was there beside him to stop him if he ever does that.

Though that didn't mean that it was gonna stop him from wanting to ask you out on a magic carpet date with him, he'll just have to explain to Jamil when you accept his invitation. That is assuming you'll accept, right?

Jamil Viper

"Dear friend," Kalim practically forced him to write a letter back to you. Jamil wasn't an ingrate, he knew when to show gratitude when it was appropriate but he preferred thanking you in person. He had to settle for this in the meantime, he thought that maybe he'll just invite you to Scarabia to talk about what he could give in return.

He hadn't really expected a gift from you, especially with all the trouble he might've caused you due to his overblot. Though he didn't think it was all that bad. In fact, he felt a little relieved that you didn't hold any grudge against him.

Vil Schoenheit

"My dear," Vil had an unmistakable smirk placed upon his lips. The choice of words he wrote managed to give out a slightly smug vibe as he stared at your gift on his desk. Impressed by your ability for finding him a suitable gift, he decided to give you a little bit in return.

His smirk slowly turned into a gentle smile as he imagined your face probably tearing up at the thought of him giving you a signed card, he couldn't help but put an offhanded comment near the end. But it was quickly followed up with a single bit of rare praise from him.

Rook Hunt

"Hey love," Rook was always one to act dramatically whenever he had the chance and even in letters, he managed to sound dramatic. As soon as he realized that you had sent him a gift he started gushing about how wonderful it was and how inspiration was raining down on him like tiny droplets.

What's a better way to let his raw emotions out than poetry? That's right, this man wrote you a poem expressing how he feels because of your gift. He almost forgot to say his gratitude because he got carried away but thankfully, Epel pointed it out to him before he could give it to you.

Epel Felmier

"Dear friend," he rarely got any gifts from anyone outside his relatives so when he saw you give him a gift, he was excited to say the least. There's always a certain joy you can evoke in a person when you give them a gift it was almost euphoric for some. He thought that it was sweet of you to give him a gift and decided to give one back with a small message.

Friend. For some reason, it felt a bit off addressing you as that but he quickly shook his head and shot down that thought. As for his gift, he prepared a little something he made himself. Hehe, he's quite proud of it too!

Idia Shroud

"@YOU" it was interesting how Idia didn't bother changing to formal speech when he decided to give you a thank you message for your gift. He's typing the same way he would to his friend, namely "Crimson Muscle", but perhaps that was because he didn't know of any other way to talk to you without sounding unnatural or weird.

People would normally not even think about giving him something and yet you gave him one. He couldn't help but smile a bit when he said how you were a bit of an oddball—he came up with various nicknames for you inside his head. Most of them being different words for the term "weirdo". Yet they always had a hint of affection whenever he would think of it.

Malleus Draconia

"Dearest," Malleus started off. It was rare that he received gifts from people outside his family or nobles back in the Valley since a lot of people found him intimidating—terrifying for some, even. He was glad that you felt comfortable enough around him to show simple gestures such as these. Upon receiving your gift, Lilia noticed how it came from you and urged Malleus to write his thank you message differently from how he usually writes it.

Did you perhaps know of the legends surrounding the Thorn Witch...? If so, then maybe he could sneak in a little joke. The gift of beauty and the gift of song—ah, nevermind. He pursed his lips slightly, he'll just handpick a gift for you himself. A small gargoyle statue, maybe. Or he could ask the other members of Diasomnia to help him.

Lilia Vanrouge

"My dear," his lips formed a small smirk. Lilia appreciated all surprises, big or small. Though, in particular, something about your surprise gift made him more excited about it than usual. Was that just his old age getting to him or was it something else? He couldn't be bothered to think about it that much.

As a form of gratitude, he weighed his options. It was either giving you a gift back or letting you ask a favour of him. He thought the latter would be more acceptable until an idea popped into his head as his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. He knew you didn't know what it exactly meant but he gave you his signature nonetheless—he'll leave you to figure out.

Silver

"Hey you," Lilia taught Silver that it was common courtesy to show gratitude when someone gives him a gift. He tried thinking of countless ways to say thank you with his old man bugging him to ask you out on a date instead in the background. In the end, he paid Lilia no attention and instead went with the standard short message and giving a gift back.

He urged himself not to fall asleep as he typed out his message even though he already let out a yawn without him noticing. He glanced at the screen blankly, wondering if he forgot to add anything until he slowly felt himself snoozing off. Head resting on the keyboard and typing out whatnot. When Lilia arrived at the scene, he didn't bother waking him up and just sent the message as it is.

Silver was so embarassed the next day and refused to talk to Lilia temporarily.

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human," he didn't even try addressing you as anything else other than that even in letters. When he found a gift lying by his room, he was a tad suspicious but loosened up when he read the tag attached to it. As stated, it came from you and the gift was meant for Malleus—wait, what. Sebek scrunched up his face as his eyes scanned the words printed on it.

"To Sebek Zigvolt" This was a mistake, right? Sebek was a bit flushed but quickly shook it off by saying how it was probably a subterfuge or whatever that was. There was no way it was for actually for him, right? Surely, you must've sent this in hopes of hearing more about the great Malleus Draconia. Right?

That is... Wonderful!

Grim

"Dear underling," it was cute how he made an effort to write you a letter despite being in the same dorm wherein he could just talk to you directly. But perhaps he was so touched to the extent that he wanted to do this—did you give him tuna? He struggled thanking you properly and ended up boasting about how he was going to be the greatest sorcerer.

Even though he called you underling at first, he couldn't help but soften up a bit. That didn't sit right with him somehow, he didn't know why. He let out a groan as he racked his head for a more appropriate word until-!

Partner... Sounds about right.

864 notes · View notes

yoongsisbae · 3 years

Text

Caught! House of Cards - Chapter 2

WHOA I am amazed by all the love this story has received so far, chapter one has become my most liked post, huh?! I'm in shock, thank you! My thirst for muster Joon fueled this to be released earlier than anticipated, so enjoy! ;)

OT7 yandere!BTS x reader, Yoongi x reader & Taehyung x reader & Namjoon x reader focused this chapter

Warnings: 18+ dark themes, voyeur, masturbation A LOT of it, gaslighting & reader manipulation, shibari, intoxication, dubcon, choking, public nudity, sexual touching in public, dom!Namjoon & sub!reader

Word count: 5.3k

---

You press record and the red light on your webcam lights up. Your heartbeat races as you navigate the House of Cards website. You already have viewers and you’ve only just spent your time staring at the chat. You wish you had picked something sexier as you sit cross legged in an oversized shirt and sleep shorts. You wear a red eye mask to conceal your identity, part of an old superhero Halloween costume you pulled out from the depths of your closet. You felt like a dumbass. ‘Super Girl wouldn’t have to do this kind of shit.’

“Sorry, i-it’s my first time...m-maybe I could take suggestions?” You watch the chat move as you hold your breath. You wanted to sound sexy but you can’t stop stuttering out your words.

You’ve never been more anxious in your life, the ends of your fingers feel numb and you can hear your own pulse thumping in your ears. You’re openly inviting strangers to get off on your body, you’re about to expose yourself in ways you’ve never done before. This isn’t like sending a sexy photo to a boyfriend when you’re feeling needy, this is so much more reckless.

Just when you’re starting to regret doing this, just when you’re about to end the feed and hide in humiliation, a notification ding pulls you away from your thoughts.

Suga: take off your shirt

Your on-screen balance goes from zero to a hundred dollars. You gulp and your eyes go wide at the amount. A hundred dollars just to take your shirt off? That seems too good to be true.

‘Okay, this is what you signed up for, y/n. It's now or never!’ You mentally hype yourself up. You keep your mission in mind, make enough money to keep a roof over your head for this month.

Your shaky fingers find the hem of your shirt “F-for you-” you squint reading the username again, “For you, Suga.” You lift the shirt slowly off your body, exposing the curves of your breasts, revealing your red lace bra to your viewers.

The collar of your shirt gets stuck around your head. You feel like an idiot as you try to wrestle the shirt off your body without pulling off your mask.

---

Yoongi snorts at his screen, his lips curving up into a half smile. He sits behind two computer monitors. He watches as you stutter out apologies to your audience, entertained by your clumsiness.

He peers over his shoulder, to where his friends are playing a game of billiards. “Hey, we have a new one!”

“Oh yeah? It’s been awhile since someone joined.” Namjoon puts his pool stick down and walks over to Yoongi to get a closer look. He laughs, “What is she doing? Is this her first time?”

“It is,” Yoongi hums.

“Ah, well now I’m intrigued.” Namjoon pulls out his cell, quickly pulling up the website on his phone.

Yoongi licks his lips, “I think she’s cute.” He watches another hundred dollars add to your total as someone asks for you to remove your shorts. He notices the username and sends a glare to the man standing over his shoulder.

“What? Just trying to move the show along.” Namjoon gives Yoongi’s shoulder a shake. “You never did like sharing.”

“And you never knew how to properly take care of my toys.”

Namjoon laughs. He studies your figure and the way you move back and forth awkwardly on the bed. You’re trying to find the best pose for your request until you finally decide to lie on your back and lift up your hips, pulling your shorts down and off your legs so you’re in nothing but a bra and panties. He leans over Yoongi’s shoulder, eyes level with his monitor to get a better look at you. “She is very cute. I could have a lot of fun with her.”

Yoongi grunts. He watches you press the cups of your bra together to show your cleavage off for him. The chatroom viewer count jumps into 3 digits. You’re so eager to please your audience, he thinks, jumping at the chance to perform the simplest of requests. And he is eager to learn just how far he can push you.

Yoongi types a reply quickly and hits the donate button. He hears his friend let out a low whistle next to him.

---

A thousand dollars?! Someone just donated a thousand dollars. What the hell?

Suga: spread your legs for me. touch yourself.

Your breath hitches. You watch as another wave of viewers are added to the chat, another trickle of donations following. You feel high from their attention, and the money just keeps on rolling in! You've been so worried and stressed since lockdown happened and now you're almost guaranteed to accomplish your goal, finally something is going right, your heart jumps in excitement. It’s starting to feel...fun. You had discarded your embarrassment along with your clothes, thrown somewhere in a heap on the floor. You lean back on your palms and bring your knees together. You can feel the damp cloth of your underwear rub against your core. You’re ashamed to admit how turned on you are. The higher the viewer count goes the wetter you become. You slowly spread your legs to the camera, reveling in the game you're playing with your faceless admirers. Your eyes read over the chat, taking in all their praises of your body. Flattering compliments intermingled with salacious requests pass by the second, it’s overwhelming, and only serves to fuel your arousal.

---

Your sweet voice plays through Yoongi’s speakers, “Thank you Suga.”

“Oh fuck, she’s so wet.” Hoseok pulls up a chair next to Yoongi and Namjoon. They all stare at the screen, at the center of your light pink panties. There is a noticeable dark spot that propels the chatroom into a frenzy.

“Take a look at that view count, it’s one of our highest this month, right?” Namjoon asks Yoongi. He hums in acknowledgement. “They really have nothing better to do now that we’re all stuck in our homes,” Namjoon jeers.

The three men watch silently as your breathing escalates, taking note of how you shake and moan. Hoseok uses the camera on his phone to zoom in on your face scrunched up in pleasure and takes a snapshot.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at his friend. “I’m just showing Jin! She’s his type.” Namjoon laughs. Hoseok cocks his head to the side in confusion while Yoongi scoffs.

Of course you're Jin's type, Yoongi thinks. You're so beautiful and Jin loves to treasure beauty. Jin loves to admire his treasures, taking pleasure in finding the cracks within perfection to break them wider. He's going to have to watch out for Jin.

Yoongi’s and Hoseok’s phones ding with a notification. “Did you have to do that?” Yoongi questions Namjoon, starting to feel annoyed. He pasted a link to your stream to the group chat.

“They are probably already watching. Look,” he points to your view count, soaring into the thousands. The man on his side gives him a dirty look.

---

You place your hands inside your bra and panties, still not comfortable enough to bare it all just yet. You cup your breasts and roll your hips into your palm getting off on the friction. Your soaked panties pull on your hips, stretch against your knuckles, revealing parts of you every once in a while to the camera. How many men had their dicks out right now, how many were falling apart with you? The thought made you clenched down on nothing, covering your hand in your essence. You pull your hand away from your core and put your palm in front of the camera, showing off your wet fingers to your faceless admirers.

---

Taehyung groans. You wiggle your fingers to him, traces of your arousal drip in between, he imagines himself licking each digit clean. He imagines his own long fingers stuffing you instead, pulling sweet moans from your lips, you dripping all over him. Fuck he wants to taste you, he bets you taste so sweet, just divine.

His hands fists his hard erection, his tongue between his teeth as he watches you on his laptop. Each time you cry out in pleasure, he thrusts into his clenched fist, imagining your tight cunt wrapped around him instead. Taehyung almost loses it when you let out a needy whine, imagining all the ways he could make you cry and whimper at his hands. He wishes he had you here so he could taste and smell your body, god if you were here he would make you cum over and over again until you cry and beg him to stop.

---

Someone sends you five hundred dollars, the second largest donation of the night.

V: You’re so beautiful

No request, no lewdness, nothing other than the simple phrase that you didn’t realize how much you ached to hear. Your face goes hot. You let your hand speed up. You try to imagine the words spoken, whispered in your ear, focus on them besides the dings of your laptop and wet sounds coming from your soaking core.

You imagine a man on top of you whispering how beautiful he finds you. You throw your head back lost in pleasure, letting your fantasies overtake you until the heat inside you bursts. You gasp and shudder, forgetting about the camera on you, riding out your high for as long as you can. The fantasy man leaves your thoughts as you come back down to earth, alone again in your room. Finally, you open your eyes, staring at the ceiling of your room. The chatroom dings and dings.

Now that you’ve reached your high, the flames of your arousal abruptly extinguishes, an icy current of mortification at what you’ve done hits you in waves. You sit up shakily, wiping the sweat off your brow. Too scared to look at your reflection, you look down at your keyboard instead, trying to steady your breathing.

“Thank you for coming to my first broadcast. I’m going to log off now.”

Instead of shutting off the stream you hold down the power button of your laptop to turn your entire computer off. You lay back down as your phone vibrates with a notification. The total sum of what you made on your first live stream. You can’t believe it, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. You pull the mask off your face and throw the offending material across the room. As you steady your breathing you push down the regret that creeps over you, thoughts that ring in your ears like a lecture from your mother, feeling shame and disgust at what you allowed yourself to become. Whatever, you did what you had to do.

---

It’s an hour before you have to clock out on your last shift of the week. Your manager pulls you aside to speak with you. There’s concern in his voice and a frown etched on his face, “He is here again.”

“Oh,” you grimace, why is he so early?! “He’s, um, here to pick me up.”

Your manager’s eyes go wide. “You’re going to go somewhere with that psycho?”

“I-I can’t say.”

“If it’s money again I can see about getting you some more hours.” He grabs a clipboard off the back wall, flipping through the schedule.

You wince. “No, it’s just something I have to do and then this should all be over and done with. It will be fine.” Will it be fine? You hope so.

He gives you a skeptical look. “Are you sure? You’re sure you’re going to be okay?”

You don’t know, but you nod your head regardless, “Yes.”

“Okay,” He sighs, still looking worried, “I’ll see you Monday?”

You give him a reassuring smile. “See you Monday. Have a good weekend.”

---

An hour later you clock out and Yoongi makes his way next to you. You were grateful he didn’t make another scene, he had sat in the corner sipping on coffee, hardly paying attention to you. He didn’t have to, not when he had your store's camera system connected to his phone.

You look him over, Yoongi looks as posh as ever. He wears all black, and tight pants that show off his, well anyways, why does he have to look so good? You huff, staring anywhere else, motioning your arm, “After you.”

The man gives you a wicked smile and offers you his arm. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, but reach for his elbow. You felt silly in your dirty work clothes holding onto him. Why did you even bother waking up early today to put on a face full of makeup when you just ended up sweating it off?

"Your manager doesn't seem happy to see me," he teases.

"I wonder why..." you send him a glare.

Of course this motherfucker has a Rolls Royce. You grumble next to him. Yoongi opens the passenger’s door for you and you slide inside. When was the last time someone has done that for you? Tinder culture has really screwed you in more ways than one. You watch as he circles to the other side, he looks so powerful and sexy.

Stop, what's gotten into you?! You push down the butterflies fluttering around in the pit of your stomach. When he starts the car, he leans over to you, invading your space and making you flinch.

“Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.” His eyes travel down your body, “Unless you want me to.” His face is too close to yours, you can feel his breath on your skin as he smirks down at you.

He reaches for the strap of your seat belt, his body now entirely pressed up against yours and he pulls on the strap and buckles it for you. Your face grows hot, it felt like he was teasing you, his presence leaving you as quickly as it came. You swallow down the lump in your throat, wishing you had water for your suddenly dry mouth.

He had smelled good. Manly. It’s been so damn long since you’ve been on a date, under the excuse of social distancing, but really you’ve just stopped trying to go out on boring typical dates with normal boring men so you can have boring vanilla sex. It was a hassle, you had gotten used to the instant gratification from your viewers. But now you had neither. That's why you were so wound up, not because you wanted this smug asshole, no way.

As he reversed, you realize you have to give him your address. You bite your lower lip, thinking what to do. Maybe you can get him to drop you off somewhere close by, but Yoongi is already setting up the GPS with another location.

“Umm, I thought we were going to stop by my house first.”

“Why?”

“So I can change?”

“Not necessary, you can change on the boat. I have clothes for you since I noticed you never cashed my check.” His piercing eyes flash with anger, the accusation making you shift uncomfortably. Cashing Yoongi's check made what was happening feel like a transaction, and you weren't willing to give him that power over you.

“I-I did not agree to get on a boat with you,” you frown, red flags popping up in your head at the thought of being alone in the middle of nowhere, out at sea, with a stranger who says he’ll hurt you if you ask him to.

“You agreed to go to a party with me. That’s how we get to the party, sweetheart.”

Dammit.

---

When Yoongi said boat you didn’t realize he meant yacht. It’s huge. He leads you into the main cabin, there are clothes already laid out for you on the bed.

He shows you how to work the shower before leaving you alone. You know you were washing off the sweat and grime of the day to make yourself presentable for this party of his, but why did you feel like you were cleaning yourself up for Yoongi specifically. It made you feel uneasy. You tried to silence the alarm bells ringing in your head and focus on getting ready. It's just one night out and then you can say goodbye to Yoongi forever.

The dress was black and tight. It hugged your curves and showed off your cleavage. You can admit it was a hot dress and you felt hot in it. It’s exactly the style you like, as if Yoongi had pulled it right out from one of your favorite Pinterest boards. You sigh as you look at yourself in the mirror, the dress came with a set of lingerie that you almost didn’t put on, embarrassed by wearing underwear picked out by a man you knew nothing about. This wasn't like the times you let your viewers choose your outfits for broadcast, this was different...right?

You decide to go all out with makeup, realizing there is no doubt going to be many beautiful people at this party that look as attractive and expensive as Yoongi, so you might as well try to blend in. You put on the finishing touches, a dark red lip, when there’s a knock on the door.

Yoongi walks in, he’s changed too. He's wearing a black button down and black pants, it matches your outfit. Almost all of his fingers are adorned with silver rings. His hair styled in an unkept bedhead way that makes him look younger. You try not to stare or think about how ridiculously handsome he looks.

You look breathtaking, Yoongi thinks, ‘Only one thing missing.’ He pulls out a black choker with a gold pendant from his pocket. “For you, I think it completes the look.” He gives you a genuine smile.

“I-I...Thank you.” you don’t know what else to say. His fingertips graze your collarbones, lighting a trail of fire across your chest. Yoongi clasps the choker around your neck, the pull against your sensitive skin gives you goosebumps. His pointer finger finds its way under your jaw to lift your chin up. “Ready for some fun?” You leave with Yoongi before you have time to inspect his present, notice that on the gold heart pendant there are initials delicately scrawled in the middle. ‘MYG’

---

You enter the party mesmerized. An island. A mansion. A secret paradise. A place where the party never needed to end.

The hall is decorated from top to bottom in gold and crystal, intricate glass centerpieces and art at every corner, but what caught your eye and made your heart drop into the pit of your stomach was an entirely different kind of centerpiece. Around the main room, suspended from the ceiling, gold ropes dropped in a dozen different areas. The most beautiful women you’ve ever seen hung under spotlights, the rope tied in intricate patterns around their naked bodies, each placed in a different position. Saliva pooled inside your mouth as you watched in awe.

Party goers gravitated to them, watching the women as they ate finger food and drank. Yoongi’s breath tickled the back of your neck as he whispered in your ear. “You look like you want to join them,” His dark eyes narrowed on you.

“I’m just admiring the view,” you try to act unaffected by his words, “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m hungry,” you whine, changing the subject, you let Yoongi pull you through the crowd.

---

Jungkook grips his wine glass so tight the stem breaks in half, the glass pieces cutting the palm of his hand. He is so full of rage he barely feels the sting, letting the blood drip on his expensive suit. That conniving little man Yoongi has his hands all over your body. How did he have you? Had this been his plan all along? Did Yoongi convince you to leave the site so he could have you all to himself? And you fell into his trap! Jungkook knows it’s not your fault for being manipulated, he knows how devious his business partner can be, but he wants to punish you just the same. He has to tell someone. Taehyung will know what to do! He searches for his friend, before he goes straight to Yoongi and kills him instead.

---

“Min, please introduce us to your date!” The crowd parts as two men advance towards Yoongi. You were just getting used to Yoongi’s cold reserved demeanor when his friends’ beaming playful attitude catch you off guard. The pair is full of energy, they commanded attention, and you could tell by their looks they most certainly were used to being in the center of it.

“You know who she is,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, his hand around your waist pulling you closer to him. What did he mean? Were they-

“But we haven’t formally met! I’m Hoseok, you can call me Hobi.” He winks at you and gives you a bright smile. “This is Jimin!”

‘Jimin.’ That name is familiar to you. No way, this beautiful man is not your Jimin. Not one of your top donators Jimin. No way in hell-

“I’m so happy to have finally met you in person, Dahlia.” Jimin holds your hand in his and brings your fingers to his lips, giving you a small wink. Oh my god he’s attractive. This is the same man who paid you for late night private chats, crying about how lonely he was, he is that Jimin. You’re so astonished you don’t even register the way Yoongi’s fingers dig into your hip in jealousy.

Hoseok and Jimin are fun. The three of you drink another round of sparkling champagne as the duo takes turns telling you wild stories, making you dissolve into a fit of giggles. Yoongi sips on his whisky while he watches the three of you roar with laughter. He doesn’t mind, he uses their charm to his advantage. As expected around the extroverted pair you start feeling more comfortable, you let your guard down around Yoongi, so Yoongi doesn’t mind. You're his date after all, you’re his.

“Looks like everyone made it!” Jimin waves at a trio of men headed towards your group.

“Almost everyone,” Yoongi corrects. He drapes his arm over your shoulder and you lean into him, your body swaying from the alcohol in your system. Yoongi delights in the way the men looked at you in his arms, the visible shock and anger on their faces. “Y/n, this is Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jungkook.”

You nod in their direction, barely regarding them, instead giggling at Jimin who is making a funny face at you trying to steal your attention.

“Namjoon says he’s sorry he couldn’t make it, something came up.” Taehyung addresses Yoongi.

Yoongi frowns at the information, it’s not like Joon to change plans so suddenly.

“I need to use the restroom, excuse me.”

“I’ll show you where it is,” Yoongi begins to take you, but Taehyung’s hand grips Yoongi’s shoulder, pulling him back. “Let the lady go, it’s been so long since we’ve all seen you, Yoongi. I missed my friend. You can make your way, right baby?”

Six heads turn to look at you and you feel hot under their intense stares. “Um, yea-yes, I’ll be right back.” You leave before Yoongi can protest.

---

This place is huge. You can’t remember how you found the bathroom or how to get back to Yoongi, and the room felt like it was spinning. The party had become louder, more obnoxious as drugs and alcohol loosened everyone’s inhibitions.

You shouldn’t have drank so much, you didn’t realize how much alcohol Jimin and Hobi had been feeding you until it was too late, and now you could barely make out people’s faces. What are you going to do? Yoongi had your cell in his pocket, why did you give it to him? Jimin had grabbed it out of your hand to put his contact information in, and handed it back to Yoongi instead. You didn't even protest, you were too busy being mesmerized by Hoseok as he swayed his hips to the music playing, rolling his body to the beat.

You lean against an empty space of wall, between two couples obnoxiously making out. You’re all alone in a strange house with no way to call for help, the gravity of your situation hits you all at once and your head begins to throb.

Maybe if you can make it to the second floor you can spot Yoongi and the others in the crowd. You stumble your way to the stairs, hoping your plan works.

You see Yoongi. The bastard is still drinking his whisky while his friend’s banter amongst themselves. You exhale, finally calming down. The fresh air away from everyone helps to take away your dizziness. You watch the six men, they are all so good looking. They have to be the most attractive men at the party. You didn’t notice how intimidating the group looks, finding it funny how party goers instinctively keep their distance from them.

The three new men are tall and big, they could be models, or maybe athletes, you should have paid attention when Yoongi was introducing you to them. What were their names, Junhyung? Taejung? If Yoongi was a House member, and Jimin was a House member, could they all be...no.

You’re about to turn to leave when hands cover your mouth and grab at your waist. Your scream is completely muffled out behind the stranger’s large hand.

He holds you in a suffocating embrace, covering both your mouth and nose, you realize you really cannot breathe. You try to pry his hand off your face but it’s impossible, he’s too strong and too big, easily overpowering you. The air in your lungs is trapped inside of you as you try to scream. Is this how you die?

“Hey baby.”

‘RM.’ The last time you met him, you had your vision taken, so you could never forget the unmistakable deep rumble of his voice.

Your mind is reeling. You stop fighting against his hold and he finally removes his hand, placing it around your neck instead. You gasp and cough out, inhaling air quickly, afraid your breath will be taken away again.

You guess it made sense, first Jimin now RM, were all the party goers members too? The thought terrified you. You had no idea what your viewers looked like, yet they all knew what you looked like naked. Just how many knew who you were? It made you queasy, you shudder against RM. RM, a top donator, plastered against your back, it felt like a fever dream.

You remember all the times you flirted with him behind the protection of your computer screen, now there were no digital barriers to stop his advances. No house rules to lessen his stifling touches.

“I missed you, baby. I’m a little upset you stayed away for so long, but seeing you here dressed up so pretty, like a present I get to unwrap, I can forgive you.” The hand that held your waist down against him traveled up your stomach, between your breasts, until it settled around your neck as well. “I’m so so glad you came back to us.” His deep velvet voice rumbled in your ear, making your legs tremble.

His strong fingers begin to massage your neck. It feels so good, you bite back a moan. Namjoon rubs deep circles into your shoulder blades. You can’t help but melt into his relaxing massage, your nerves had been wound so tightly before, his expert fingers finding each knotted muscle in your back. You try to sneak a glance behind you, but every time you try, Namjoon’s hands find your jaw, keeping your attention forward.

“How is Yoongi treating you?” RM knows Yoongi? You felt so out of the loop, you tried to make sense of it all but you could only concentrate on the way his fingers pressed against your skin.

“He’s being a perfect gentleman.”

“A 'gentleman,'” Namjoon laughs, “Are we talking about the same man?” You roll your head as his fingers work the tense muscles of your neck. His thumb runs underneath your choker, ever so slightly tightening the fabric around your skin. “He was planning to keep you all to himself,” Namjoon tuts.

Anger erupts inside of him as he notices the piece of jewelry, and he pulls you into another crushing embrace, his hands underneath the curves of your breasts. “Now what would he do if he saw you in my arms, hmm?” He makes you walk back to the balcony, hands groping your chest and body pressing you forward into the banister. Truthfully, you’re scared of what Yoongi would do if he saw you, you had no idea what he was capable of, but the pleasure RM was giving you was hard to fight against.

“RM, please...” you don’t know what you’re begging him for, to let you go, to touch you more.

“Look at him.” His voice deepens, his authoritative tone makes you whimper in his arms.

His arms travel to your waist, his fingers pulling at the hem of your dress, lifting it tortuously slow. His fingertips ghost over your lace panties. “Look at how wet you are, dirty girl.” He pulls them down your thighs. If anyone were to look up, they’d see you completely bare. The thought makes you pulse.

Taehyung and Jungkook had come to Namjoon to tell him what Yoongi had done. Namjoon almost felt bad, Yoongi was like a brother to him, so Namjoon knew how much he cared about you. But why would he parade you around in front of the others, like a sweet treat on a platter? Yoongi surely knew them all well enough to know they'd want to take a bite.

“Now keep your eyes on Yoongi, what is he doing right now?”

You start to speak and Namjoon pushes two fingers inside you, all the way in to his knuckles. You let out a gasp, and he pinches the sensitive skin of breast through your dress. “Answer daddy, baby girl.”

You fight back tears, your mouth goes dry as you try to hold yourself together. “H-he’s talking to Hobi.” Namjoon inserts another finger into you at the nickname you use for his friend, the stretch is bordering on painful, making you cry out. You try to stifle your whimpers, it just turns Namjoon on even more. He grinds his erection into your ass. His smell, his dirty words, his roughness, you've forgotten how much you craved it.

“Hobi, is it? When did you and him become so friendly? Baby, you’re making me jealous. Is that what you want?” With three fingers inside you, he sets a punishing pace. It’s been awhile since you’ve felt so full. Perhaps the last time you truly felt like this was by RM himself. You pulse around his fingers at the memory. Your legs shake as his thumb finds your clit, pressing into your sensitive hood. “P-please…”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum, Daddy.”

He groans in your ear. “Hmm no.” He pulls his fingers out of you, you hold onto the banister as your orgasm escapes you. Your body shakes with need.

“You’ll come find me later tonight, won’t you, baby girl?” His warmth leaves your body, when you turn around no one is there.

---

Oh my so many questions, not many answers. Will you see your manager on Monday? Lol thank you again for enjoying my story, let me know what you think! <3

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existslikepristin · 3 years

Text

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).

#red velvet smut #kpop smut #yeri #male reader insert

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