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#can i tag you as mocha
pastelmilkie-archived · 6 months ago
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🥛Hey hey! I’m Mod Koto, but you can also call me Mys, or Makoto! Welcome to pastelmilkie! This is my editing blog, and while Danganronpa is my main source, I have others that you can request for. @yakshiaos If you ever see this (which I doubt you will but I can dream) this blog and my editing style were inspired by you!
I may be an editing blog, but I also take requests for kins and fictives!! Just lmk !
I use They/Them, Fey/Feyr, Nya/Nyas, and Straw/Berry/Strawberryself pronouns, but I have more! No preferred ones really, but please don’t use she/her unless we’re close! 🍓
⤐ Here’s my Pronouny!
⤐ My carrd
⤐ My main is @immissunderstood
Keep reading if you’d like to request something! ♡
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ᨳ Updates 𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
I have new sources and things you can request for! Icons have been taken off of my editing sources
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┊ ┊ ┊ 🍓
┊ ┊ 🥛
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Blog aesthetic / Character:
Makoto ੈ faded pink
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ᨳ Rules🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
⤐ Please be patient with me. I am a human, a human that gets stressed very easily. I may not have the motivation in me to try and edit
⤐ if you’re using my edits, I would really appreciate credit, but you don’t have to! Just make sure to like / reblog
⤐ If there are any requests that make me uncomfortable, I will deny them.
⤐ Do not come here trying to start discourse, or trying to troll (you’re not funny, promise)
⤐ You can make one request per ask! I will have to deny it if their is more then one
⤐ Please don’t request for edits when my requests are closed. There’s a reason for that
⤐ Do not try and claim my edits as your own. That’s just rude man. That means no reposts. If you do repost for god knows what reason, I expect credit and a link to my blog.
⤐ Don’t request for anything that’s on my blacklist/fall into the list of my triggers
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
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ᨳ About Me🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
⤐ You can call me (Mod) Koto, Mys, or Makoto (or Mocha. you can still call me Mocha lmao)
⤐ I am a minor (┛◉Д◉)┛彡┻━┻
⤐ I am a Bisexual / Abrosexual Enby
⤐ unless we’re close, I would prefer if you didn’t use she/her.
⤐ (I also like Oreo/Oreos okay sorry I’ll stop now-)
⤐ I’m a cancer!
⤐ Major Kins (in no specific order) - Makoto Naegi (strongest kin), Toko Fukawa, Chiaki Nanami, Ibuki Mioda, Futaba Sakura, Kaede Akamatsu, Madeline Hatter, Minako Arisato
⤐ Minor Kins (in no specific order) Hideyoshi Nagachika, Akira Kurusu, Darling Charming, Kitty Cheshire, Mikan Tsumiki, Hajime Hinata, Nagito Komeada, Mukuro Ikusaba
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
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ᨳ Sources🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
⤐ Main Source - Danganronpa ★ (all games), Identity V (IDV), Ever After High (EAH), Owari No Seraph, My Little Pony (MLP), Vocaloid, My Hero Academia (selective), Persona (2 - 5), Splatoon, The Promised Neverland, YTTD, Genshin Impact, Obey Me, Shall We Date?
Outside sources are pretty selective, so sorry about that!
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
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ᨳ What I Do🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
⤐ Manga Icons, Wallpapers (both mobile, tablet & desktop), Headers (not bouncy), Pride, Moodboards, Stimboards, Writing (selective), Layouts, Playlists, Fashion Boards, DNI Banners, Nametags, Self-care kits, Kin Analysis (selective), Kin Matchups (selective)
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ᨳ Blacklist🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
(Hnngh please don’t ask why something or someone is on my dni or my blacklist! It’s there for a reason)
Characters; Haiji Towa, Teruteru Hanamura, Kokichi Ouma (Selective), Endeavour (BNHA), Kai Chisaki (BNHA), Mineta (BNHA), Kaeya (gi)
Ships; Junko x Anybody, WoH x Anybody (Platonic is fine), Togofuka (Togami x Fukawa), Incest Ships, Pedophilic ships, Kamukoma (Kamukura x Nagito), most Kamukura ships if I’m being honest, Bakudeku (Bakugou x Midoriya) (BNHA), Todobaku (Todoroki x Bakugou) (BNHA), Eri x Anybody (BNHA) (Platonic is fine),
Aesthetics; Traumacore, Gorecore, Yanderecore, Sceencore/Glitchcore, S*xcore, Grungecore, lovecore, Any toxic ships in general
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ᨳ Whitelist🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
Characters; Makoto Naegi ♡ ♡, Toko Fukawa ♡ ♡, Chiaki Nanami ♡ ♡, Kaede Akamatsu, Hajime Hinata ♡, Izuru Kamukura ♡, Eri (BNHA) ♡, Nagito Komaeda, Himiko Toga (BNHA), Barbara (gi), Kasumi (P5), Qiqi (gi), The Travellers (gi), Natsumi Kuzuryuu, Belphie (om)
Aesthetics; Milkcore/Pastel Milk ♡ ♡, Pastel ♡, Pastel Goth, Softcore (cloudcore, dreamy, etc), Dark Academia ♡ ♡, Almost every academic aesthetic, Angelcore (Light, Dark, Fallen, etc) ♡
Ships; Saimatsu (Saihara x Akamatsu), Hinaegi (Hinata x Naegi) ♡ ♡, Kamuegi (Kamukura x Naegi) ♡ ♡, Kamunami (Kamukura x Nanami) ♡, Komahina (Komaeda x Hajime), Tonaegiri (Togami x Kirigiri x Naegi) ♡, Komahinaegi (Komaeda x Hinata x Naegi) ♡, Komaegi (Komaeda x Naegi), platonic Naenami (Naegi x Nanami), Komanami (Komaeda x Nanami)
honestly so many rarepairs you don’t need to feel scared or awkward about any ship you ask me to edit unless it’s illegal!!
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ᨳ DNI🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
⤐ You support incest & / or pedophilia, Are homophobic, transphobic, MOGAI-phobic, lgbtq-phobic, etc, Are a pro-shipper, Believe r*pe is okay, Believe that men can’t be r*ped, Are a TERF / SWERF, Racist, Are a troll, or coming here to start discourse, Sexist and/or misogynistic, All Lives Matter Supporter, ‘Blue’ Lives Matter Supporter, Trump supporter
identifies as a Yandere, Anti-Neopronouns / Xenogenders, Ableist, Anti-kin / faction, You ship Junko with anybody (this is for my own comfort reasons!), believe Animesexual, Heatsexual, Tiktoksexual, Foodsexual, Agefluid, Discordsexual, or Danganronpasexual are valid, NSFW / 18+ blogs / Kink, Exclusionist, Islamphobic, White supremacist, Anti-masker / think covid isn’t real, Participate in Chihiro gender discourse
Support anything / anyone on this list, if you’re on everyone else’s DNI you’re probably on mine as well,,,Just don’t be a jerk man
ᨳ BYF 🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
I use they/them for Chihiro mostly because I want to avoid discourse, but I’m fine with you guys using any pronouns for them if you would like! I also occasionally use the word angel to respond and talk to people, so please let me know if that bothers you and I’ll stop immediately!
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ᨳ Discomforts🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
⤐ Screaming / Yelling at me, Demanding things of me, Threatening to / Raising a hand at me, Banging / Thumping Noises, Alcohol, Anorexia / Eating Disorders, Kamukoma (Kamukura x Nagito), Junko ships
ᨳ Triggers🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
⤐ The word Pr0m*se
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ᨳ Squicks🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
⤐ Skin / fingernails (Wounds, being punctured, etc)
⤐ Bugs
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ᨳ My wonderful anons + my amazing mutuals! 🥛𓂃⋆。˚ ⋆
⤐ AMFM Anon
⤐ Krul anon
⤐ candy anon
⤐ Hinaegi anon
⤐ 🦄 anon
⤐ 🌿 anon
⤐ natsumi anon (sumi)
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
⤐ achilles❣️
⤐ bunki 💖
⤐ sepya 🌺
⤐ ace 💖
⤐ robin 💗
⤐ bun 🌸
⤐ lyn 💗
⤐ blue! 💙
⤐ petal 💓
⤐ kichi 🎲
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And that should be everything! Thank you so much for taking the time to read through all of that! Now, grab a milkshake, a hot chocolate, or a mocha for your stay, and feel free to request for something!
Can I take your order? 🥛
61 notes · View notes
scintillatea · 5 months ago
catch her in the eye
like I said mocha, this instantly gives me a mental image of a joker like villain pulling someone's eye out of their skull and whispering "caught you" to it while stroking the eye fuck i- 😭😭
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apocalyptic-cake · 2 months ago
YOUR VOICE I WANT TO CRY OMG YOUR VOICE IS SO BEAUTIFUL and omg you're belting the notes and its so beautiful and ive listened to it like 50 times now HELP
please cover every single song ever the world needs this <3
AJSGSSJJWJQJQHU ILYSM <3333
This is my new favorite thing abshshajahwhw THANK YOUUUUU I'M CRYING
Mwah
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tothestarsandback · 8 months ago
Wait I have a header text thing (I just thought I was being hilarious)
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it IS hilarious but there's just one thing. all headers on this blog need @blue-grxy 's approval (oreo)
this is the first time someone has submitted a header to this blog, so im thinking- this could honestly be a thing™ (as long as oreo approves them)
SOOOO
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overtly-affictionate · 5 months ago
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I know I already talked about this last night but I can't stop thinking back to the part of the novel where michael says he drinks black coffee with sugar so he can look tough even though he has fond memories of drinking coffee with tons of cream and sugar as a kid and would probably still prefer that if he let himself.... idk why it gets to me so much but it absolutely does
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impossible-rat-babies · 2 years ago
TMI Tuesday: Respectively, why would Darva and Dimitri say they fell for Dorian and Bull?
Darva fell for Dorian for many reasons. He loved Dorian’s passion for his interests and his faith in the good he knows his country is capable of; he knows it isn’t perfect and it won’t ever be, but it can be better. It’s about making things better, leaving behind a legacy that makes things better and will hopefully outlast you in that way. It’s not about self preservation, but having a good that people need and more importantly deserve. Darva shares that opinion, that people can be better than they are now. Darva also loves Dorian’s passion for magic and learning; curiosity for the sake of learning. The ideas of self betterment. 
Darva very much wants to be loved and desired and to have someone telling him he does deserve love, he does deserve all the care he never got. He’s very, very lonely in that way. 
The other kicker is that at points in Darva’s life, he’s settled for conditional love. The conditional love for his mother that happened when he was on his best behavior and a “good child” for her. Or the love that he got very briefly from people passing by. He’s settled for the love he thinks he deserves. He was really very much in love with Dorian when he showed him that unconditional love--the kind of love he deserves. 
--
Dimitri fell in love with Bull over a long period of time and it was many little things. Bull’s joy in small things in life like a good ale after a long day of work or how pants just feel good to wear. It’s silly stuff that Bull recognizes and loves that Dimitri doesn’t pay that much attention to. It slows Dimitri down, lets him breathe in those little quiet spaces. He loves Bull’s cunning mind and how he is smarter than he looks; he loves talking with Bull about nearly anything because Bull has thought about nearly anything, but doesn’t always voice it.
He fell in love with Bull because they have a kinship in being men who have seen much, have many scars from their lives. They are both hardly that untouched youth, both cynical with old hurts and old questions. There’s that similarity and comfort in that. Dimitri won’t judge Bull for the things he had to do to survive, the acts he had to carry out. The same going for Bull not judging Dimitri for his past actions and mistakes. 
Dimitri has lived in a world that hates him and what he can create with his hands and Bull is a reprieve from that. He looks at him for who he is in the entirety, not picking out the bits he doesn’t like. There’s authenticity in how Dimitri can be with Bull. 
--
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musingmycelium · 2 years ago
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oc three words meme
i was tagged by @mocha-writes for a super interesting meme Rules: Say the first three (3) things that you think of when you think of your OC(s)! (Without an explanation of course) and since i like doing things in threes...
ellanis tabris: magic, duty, family
noure surana: hunger, rage, freedom
idrilla lavellan: learning, sunshine, home
i’ll tag @ironbullsmissingeye @goblin-deity and @lyrium-lovesong no obligations of course
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insimniacreations · 3 months ago
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Edible Starbucks Frappuccino Chilled Coffee Drink
Get in line and get your favorite Starbucks Frappuccino!
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Also available in 4-Pack for some flavors.
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FEATURES:
12 different flavors to choose from! - Mocha - Vanilla - Coffee - Caramel - Brown Butter Caramel - Toasted White Chocolate - Chocolate Churro - Caramelized Vanilla Honey - Salted Dark Chocolate - S'mores - Peppermint Mocha - Pumpkin Spice
It will give a Focused buff for each flavor.
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This will increase your Sim's energy and hunger levels.
I was nicer with the calories on this one. Only 190 calories for all flavors (even if some are actually 290)! Check out this cool article by Carl's Sims 4 Guides to see how this drink compares against other Sims foods.
To use, click Open on the unopened bottle. The opened bottle will then be found in your Sim's inventory and you will be able to click Drink
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If you buy the 4 pack, you can also click Open and 4 unopened bottles will be in your Sim's inventory.
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You will be able to store the unopened/opened/4 pack bottles in the fridge.
Not available to drink for Children and Toddlers! {because it's not good)
The bottles and the 4-packs are found under Appliances Misc. or just search “Starbucks” in the search bar ORRR you can download the updated version of the custom register since I added these items on there.
New Drinks menu!
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DOWNLOAD
Now on Early Access. Public Release: 7/09 @ 5pm EST
NOW AVAILABLE FOR EVERYONE. ENJOY!
Like my work? Leave me a tip 😎 straight download from patreon no ads ever..
(feel free to tag me if you post a pic of your Sims eating my stuff! I would love to see it!)
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gentletwin · a year ago
he wasn’t sure, the innocence of the boy. some had seem too much, even if they were young. renji knew that much. but when the bullet tears through his body, all he can think is, “is the boy safe?” he wishes he hadn’t walked through. wished the boy was playing with his friends like a normal kid. but the area was dangerous, and renji would rather die than let the boy be hurt because of him. “... g-gotta be careful, buddy,” he coughs, hand gripping the bullet wound. “... run, kid. please.”
From an inbox call || @veiliisms
◣ ❀ ✿ ❀ ◥ ;
He’s definitely come across something horrible, something he doesn’t entirely understand. He doesn’t recognize all of the moving parts — he doesn’t have time to, as he’s shoved out of harm’s way and a loud bang splits the air. One moment, he feels the asphalt scraping across his palms and his knees, and the next, he looks over his shoulder, his heart dropping into his stomach.
The scene is chaotic, someone is trying to hurt the people around him, and oh, no, he’s laying in a pool of his own blood. It’s just like —
❝ No...I — ❞
It suddenly feels as though Lucas isn’t entirely in control of his own body, like everything around him has been put through a filter, turning it into a film. He begins to get up, as though he’s going to listen and run, maybe get help, but this is a painfully familiar scenario and he doesn’t want this to happen again. Not even to a stranger — not to anyone.
It feels like he’s somewhere between a dream and reality as he tries to hold himself together long enough to do whatever he can. His entire body is shaking. His face has gone pale. He doesn’t care.
( Things are different now. There is something he can do. )
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❝ — PK Flash!! ❞
A blinding white light emanates from his chest and seems to explode before the gunner’s eyes. It should be enough to make their eyes water and give them an escape, maybe knock them out temporarily if Lucas is lucky enough. He doesn’t have time to check. He’s desperate for this not to happen again.
❝ Can you get up? We need to go — !! ❞
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erodasfishtacos · 4 months ago
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Not Your Charity Case
prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?
word count: 6.2k 
warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt
other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing
Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)
+++
You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.
Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.
It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.
Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.
When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.
When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.
You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.
From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.
The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”
You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.
He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.
You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”
The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”
You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.
It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.
You sign, “What are you trying to order?”
He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.
He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”
You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”
The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.
You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.
The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.
“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.
“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.
+++
Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.
With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”
You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”
His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”
“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.
Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.
You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.
His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.
Well fuck him then.
***
You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.
It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.
You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.
As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.
Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.
After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”
You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.
Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.
You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.
A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.
“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.
He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.
You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.
You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”
There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”
Your brows furrow, “I did.”
“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.
You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”
“What do you need?”
He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.
You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 
***
Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.
You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.
You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.
When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.
***
The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.
‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’
After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.
You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.
***
You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.
After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.
Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.
The reply text comes shortly after
Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.
Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!
I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.
You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.
I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?
Sounds great. Thank you again x
Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?
***
He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.
You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.
You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”
He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.
You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.
He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.
“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.
The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.
“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 
Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.
It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.
Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.
Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”
Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.
The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.
Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.
“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.
His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.
He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.
He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”
You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.
“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.
“Yes.”
“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.
He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”
You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”
“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”
“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.
“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.
***
The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.
“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.
You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.
A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”
“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.
The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.
Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.
You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”
Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”
“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.
Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 
Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.
“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.
You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.
“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.
“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 
Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.
Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.
***
Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.
“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.
“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.
“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”
“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.
“I’m not very trusting of people.”
You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”
“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.
“One more chance, Styles.”
Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’
***
It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.
You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.
Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”
You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”
He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.
You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”
The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.
He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.
The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.
“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.
***
The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.
Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’
You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.
Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 
He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **
You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.
Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.
Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.
Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.
You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.
The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”
Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.
Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”
“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.
He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.
You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.
Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.
His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”
“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb
His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”
**
You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.
You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.
With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.
Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.
Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.
“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.
You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”
“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.
It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.
You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.
“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.
“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.
“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.
“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.
“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.
Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.
It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.
You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.
Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.
When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.
Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”
Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”
Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 
You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.
It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.
All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.
He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.
Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.
Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”
You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”
He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.
So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.
Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.
Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.
Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”
Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”
Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”
Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.
You wanted everything from him.
“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.
“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.
“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.
You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.
You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.
He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.
His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.
“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.
You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.
As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.
When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”
You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.
His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.
Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.
Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.
Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.
Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 
You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.
You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.
You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”
With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.
“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.
“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.
You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.
Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.
Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.
When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”
You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.
You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”
“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.
“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.
And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.
Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.
When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.
Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.
It takes you a moment - then it hits you.
Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.
You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.
When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.
The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.
---
Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.
“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.
“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.
“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.
“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.
“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.
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bee-eoofcringe · 4 months ago
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Call Me Daddy
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❀ a/n: please be kind to me. I wrote this in under 48 hours after my dumbass realized that the due date was today. It’s not super rough or violent, cause that's not me. This was for @kaijime​ ‘s dilf collab. Also, props to @half-baked-biscuit​ for revising and editing this last minute for me. I love you 💜
❀ wc: 3k
❀ who: DILF!Teacher! Sugawara, Fem!Reader
❀ what: smut (oral f-receiving, fingering, squirting), tw: noncon, tw: drugging, tw: blackmail, d a r k c o n t e n t
It wasn’t every day that someone as young as you got an opportunity like this; at age nineteen, you were presented the opportunity to be a student-teacher at Karasuno Elementary. When you first received the news, you were ecstatic and then nervous. Who would you be paired with to teach? What age group were these kids in? Would they even like you? These fears only grew as you prepared for your first day.
You showed up more than an hour early due to anxiety and prayed for no awkward instances while you sat on a bench near the front entrance. Those prayers weren’t answered. The most beautiful man you had ever seen entered your field of vision, slowly at first and then all of a sudden; his honey brown eyes were the only thing you could see. Deep dimples made themselves known to you as he smiled, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching a bit with the motion. It took you a moment to notice that he was talking to you.
“Hey there, I’m Sugawara Kōshi. I teach preschool here.” His introduction to you was all but lost in the way his gentle voice had reduced you to a puddle. “You look a little young, are you the student-teacher we were told about at the last meeting?” Suga tilted his head inquisitively, his eyes searching for answers that your mouth didn’t seem keen on sharing.
After /discretely/ calming your racing heart, you replied “yes, I am. I know school doesn’t start for quite a while, but I figured I would familiarize myself with the layout of the school beforehand.” Patting yourself on the back for being able to reply at all, you stood to bow in respect and gave him your name. “Do you always show up so early?”
He laughed softly, ruffling his grey hair and nodding. “I’m an early riser, so I usually elect myself to morning duties. I help the little kiddos switch their shoes and sign in for the day.” He hikes the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder and gestures towards the front door, “shall we?”
You follow him into the main office and make note of where everything is - principal, vice-principal, nurse, etc. It takes you a second to zone back in, but you quickly notice that he’s giving you a tour of the school, jokingly throwing your way a “take note”. You roll your eyes and smile, enjoying the tour and doing your best to memorize the important locations. By the time you make it back to the front, other staff members and some older students with morning clubs began filing in.
“Are you our newest member?” A sweet voice asks you. You turn to see that one of the office attendants had made her way behind the front desk. “I’m only assuming because I’ve never seen your face before.” When you confirm that you were, in fact, the student-teacher coming to spend the year with them, she beckoned you over to the desk and handed you a name tag and a set of keys. “I’m so glad you already met Suga-san, that makes everything easier. You’ll be spending the year in his classroom.” At this revelation, your soul left your body. Unbeknownst to you, a certain Sugawara also had a strong reaction to this remark; though he was outwardly cheery, the thing he felt the strongest was a warmth pooling in his gut at the thought of having you to himself.
After a few months, you had fully settled into your role. You helped kiddos swap their shoes in the mornings and got them checked in for the day. During class-time, you observed Sugawara’s teachings and made sure the children were paying attention - along with occasionally giving help where it was needed. In the afternoon, you made sure all the kids were set and ready to go home. It was a simple and easy routine, and honestly you were having fun. The fact that Sugawara was so kind and handsome definitely sweetened the situation.
From what you had picked up, he was a thirty-nine year old divorcee with an ex-wife who taught his son to hate him. You couldn’t even fathom anyone wishing any ill will towards the teacher; Sugawara was, without a doubt, one of the best people you had ever met. When the subject was brought up, he would deflate slightly and his usual smile would falter. You had made it your personal mission to bring him any happiness that you could while you were with him. Something you knew he deeply appreciated.
On this particular day, there was no school. Well, no school for the kids. It was a staff in-service day. When you arrived at the school, Suga was waiting for you at the front gates as usual. The two of you clocked in, dropped your stuff off in his classroom, and made your way to the boardroom where all the stuffy teacher meetings were held. You did your best to listen during these, but they were so boring. You often found yourself grumbling quietly under your breath and fidgeting. This meeting seemed to be especially torturous. Something about a new policy they were going to put in place. Something mind numbing. You let out a subconscious huff, not knowing that you had caught the attention of your superior.
Sugawara knew you hated these meetings, but if you wanted to be a teacher, these were something you would have to learn to deal with. You were a promising future prospect for their school. Your grades were stellar. Every recommendation they had received for you was glowing. You were so good with the kids. But even with all of your excellent traits, you couldn’t sit through one little meeting. When he heard the noise escape you, he did a quick sweep of the other teachers to make sure that they hadn't noticed. With that confirmation, he took it upon himself to correct this behavior; he was a teacher after all. Suga leaned back in his seat slightly, taking one of his hands off the table in front of him where they had been folded neatly. He, inconspicuously, slipped his hand under the table to rest on your knee - the one that hadn’t stopped bouncing since you sat down. He then proceeded to give your knee a quick squeeze, making sure to dig his nails in just a little bit to get his point across. Sugawara knew his methods were working when not a second later you sat up straight and focused your attention on the principal who had been speaking the entire time. This had been the first instance of Suga using a more forceful and less pleasant means of correcting your behavior, but it was far from the last.
The longer you stayed with him and continued to be a part of his classroom, the  more wary you became around Sugawara. That first instance of him digging his nails into your knee to get you to pay attention, completely inappropriate by the way, had left you rattled. At first you tried to brush it off as an accident; maybe he had meant to pat you on the knee and underestimated his strength? Though, as time went on you realized you were sorely mistaken.
Not a week after the in-service incident, he cornered you in the teacher’s lounge when it was just the two of you in there. Apparently, you were getting along with the art teacher a little too well and he didn't appreciate it.The second Hana-san left to go prep for his next class, Suga was on you with poorly concealed fury in his eyes. “So, Aito huh? Why didn’t you tell me that you’re a fan of the arts?” He spit at you, the smile on his face none too convincing, “I can teach you a thing or two about art. Did you know that while the color red is mostly associated with violence and anger, it’s also translated as passion and seduction. Is that why you wore that top today? Are you trying to catch someone’s attention?”
You were completely dumbfounded; while he had been crossing the line a little bit at that meeting, this was completely unacceptable. Although, you did need this job. Not only were you getting experience from being in an actual classroom, you were also getting paid because Suga’s class was rather large. The school was already in the market for a second pair of hands in his class when you showed up, so they gave that salary to you. You needed this job to pay rent. With this in mind, you carefully crafted your answer. “Sugawara-san, I’m a bit offended that you’d think so poorly of me. I would never go after a married man.” You gave him a pointed look and tried to come across as stern, though on the inside you only felt cold fear.
The anger bled from his face first and then the rest of his body as the tension it held had been released. Suga laughed and rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, saying “you’re right, I definitely don't think that lowly of you. I was just looking out for Hana-san. His wife is a kind woman and I wouldn't want to see another marriage become ruined.” He glanced at the clock and walked over to where he had dropped his lunch bag. “Come on then, let’s go get our kids from their meal.” His phrasing made you a little squeamish then, but again - this was only the second red flag, and red looks an awful lot like pink under rose-tinted glasses.
The final straw was on another in-service day, though this time there was no meeting to be had. Some teachers checked in and left to work from home for the day, but Suga had insisted that the two of you stay to grade the kids’ tests from the previous day. You wanted to go home and get back into bed; grading was one-person job when the questions were 1+1=2. Instead, you were bribed with a hazelnut mocha latte even if the almond milk was a bit gritty. 
As soon as you walked through the door, you started feeling off. Call it what you want, the vibes, the energy, the mood - something was wrong. As you turned around to see if maybe Suga had a suggestion to help, dread began to form in your stomach. Suga had locked the door from the inside. You took a step back at this revelation, a bit wobbly as your coordination had started to wane and your dread changed to fear. “Suga-san” you started, but no other words left your mouth - it felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. Your head was aching and everything was hot. The strength in your body was quickly fading, so it was no surprise to anyone that you didn’t fight when Sugawara walked forward and took you into his arms.
“Oh, how sweet, are you gonna make this easy for me, sugar?” He asked, with a laugh that you might’ve found charming a little while ago. “I’ve been wanting to make you mine since I first came across your student profile. I was the one that suggested you, did you know that? Imagine my surprise when they actually put you right into my hands. Don’t you worry darlin’, I’m gonna make this nice for both of us.”
The way he spoke should’ve triggered more red flags for you, more fear, more something - but you couldn’t feel anything. You were pretty much numb to the outside world. Though your vision was blurry and everything sounded like it was underwater, you were still very much conscious. Conscious, but a prisoner of your own mind.
Suga pulled you closer to his body, pleased that you sunk into his warmth, even if it wasn’t of your doing. “Did you enjoy your coffee?” He questioned, not surprised when he received nothing in reply. He laughed softly to himself and slipped one arm under your legs, the other secured itself around your shoulder. He picked you up and walked over to the reading area he had in his classroom; there he laid you down on the low couch. 
You began to internally panic when he started undressing you; you knew what he said, but people say a lot of things they don’t mean. You tried to fight his advances, but the most you could do was turn your body slightly and groan. “No,” you whispered, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, “don’t want this.” Unfortunately for you, Sugawara wasn’t listening. No, he had you completely undressed and underneath him. 
You flinched when he raised his hand to your face, brushing away the hairs that had fallen out of place and petting softly at your cheek. “You’re so lovely,” you heard him say, though you wish you hadn’t. He continued in this way for a while. Running his hands over various parts of your body and cooing softly at you in a way one would to their lover. He stopped once his hands made their way to your hips, and he kneaded the flesh there. You frowned and tried to twist your body away from his ministrations, and almost immediately you were rewarded. Whatever he gave you must not have been very strong, because while your movement was weak, it was still there.
Just when you thought things were starting to look up, you heard him say, “you should start coming back to yourself soon, I made sure to give you a low dose. Until then, let’s give you an orgasm or two, yeah?” The blood in your veins turned to ice and you began to shake your head as hard as you could. Maybe if he could see that you didn’t want it, he would stop? Instead, he spread your legs, and sat between them; judging by the look on his face, he was extremely pleased with whatever he saw.
“God, you’re soaked.” You were able to pick up his whisper, but just barely. It made no sense to you, you were terrified, there was no way in hell your body was providing an aroused response. Once again, you were proved wrong when his thumb petted at and spreaded your folds gently, eliciting from you the most wanton moan you had ever made. It shook you right to your very core. Whatever he gave you was causing this reaction - this sensitivity. It had to be.
You wanted to panic when Suga laid on his stomach; you immediately knew his intention was to eat you out. What would he gain from this? Why was he doing this to you? Neither of these questions were answered, instead you gasped when you felt his tongue dip into you. The way he ate you out was entirely selfish, but still managed to feel amazing. It seemed that his primary goal was to drink up as much of your essence as possible from the way he kept pressing his tongue into you and groaning at the taste. You were almost relieved that he wasn’t actually trying to get you off - maybe you could walk away from this encounter with a little bit of dignity? Whatever entity was listening to your thoughts that day must have hated you because almost immediately, his tongue shifted courses.
Suga pressed his appendage flat against you and dragged it up to your throbbing clit. He must’ve been feeding off of your reactions because as soon as you whimpered, he closed his lips around it and sucked hard. The bastard smirked against you when you cried out at the stimulation. He continued to drag his tongue against you, starting at your entrance and flicking his tongue at your clit. The rhythm he picked up was sinister in the way it had made your legs shake. He introduced a finger in your soaked entrance right when your thighs were tightening around his shoulders, and he wasted no time sinking it into your heat. 
That added stimulation was all you needed for your first orgasm to wash over your body. Your thighs squeezed his shoulders and your cunt his finger. You almost didn’t notice that your body jerked a little stronger than before; the drugs were finally starting to wear off. You didn’t say or do anything, hoping to keep this secret to yourself while your chest heaved. Sugawara wasn’t going to let you catch your breath, it seemed. Not even a minute after your first orgasm had taken hold over your body, his finger - excuse me, fingers - started to move within you once again. You whimpered and twitched, whining “too much,” and attempting to bat his hand away. He only chuckled and continued to leisurely finger you, enjoying the warm, wet feel of your walls. Suga crooked his fingers up and made a beckoning motion, immediately reducing you to a babbling puddle. 
As soon as he found that spot inside of you, he abused it - pressing his fingers into it and rubbing relentlessly. Around the same time, he had dipped his head back down and began to lap at your overstimulated clit again, causing your body to jerk without your consent. It was all too much for you to handle. Not long after the first one, a second orgasm began to build in your core, though this one felt different. There was more of a pressure behind this one. To your horror, Suga pulled away from you with a grin and immediately began thrusting his fingers into that spongy patch repeatedly and harsh. You wailed and tugged at his wrist, hoping to make him stop, but nothing was going to stop him now that he was determined. With one hand pistoning into you, and the other reaching up to thumb at your clit, your end was nearing fast. After one more calculated thrust, you squirted all over his fingers, soaking his lap and the couch. Taking mercy on your poor, spent body, he withdrew his fingers from your cunt and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your sternum. 
It took a while for your mind and body to catch up with each other, but eventually free movement came back and the haze of pleasure lifted from your mind. You arrived in the present to find Sugawara cooing at you and whispering sweet words, his hands creating a warm path along your sides. “There’s my girl,” you heard him say, obviously pleased with the mess he made of you. “How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice soft.
“You drugged me,” you accused, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.
“Details sweetheart, details. How do you feel?”
“Exhausted. Warm. Kinda fuzzy in the head - wait no! This was not consensual!”
“Yes it was,” he quipped, confusing your still hazy mind. “And if you argue that it wasn’t, I have everything here recorded. It would be a shame if you lost your scholarship after your mentor at Karasuno found porn of you online.”
All of the pieces slowly started falling into place. With every word he spoke, dread returned to your body. He was blackmailing you. “What do you want from me?” You asked, body and mind tired from the extraneous activities. “I obviously don't have money.”
“Let me do this. Let me pleasure you. All I want is for you to lay back and let me have you,” his words seemed suspect, but his eyes spoke of honesty. Against your better judgement, you nodded. Sugawara beamed at you, his sunshine smile slowly melting away the fear that should’ve stayed in place. “One more thing?” He said, flipping you onto your stomach and raising your hips, “call me Daddy.”
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scuttling · a month ago
Text
Paper Rings
Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.
You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.
That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.
You are not the only one to notice.
“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”
“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.
That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.
“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.
“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.
“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.
“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”
“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”
Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.
He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.
Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.
Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.
As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.
“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.
He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.
The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.
“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”
It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.
“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.
You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.
“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.
“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.
It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.
He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.
You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.
“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”
He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.
“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.
“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”
He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.
When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.
He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.
“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.
“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.
“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.
“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”
“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.
She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.
You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.
It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.
When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.
The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.
“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.
“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”
He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.
“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.
“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.
“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”
He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.
“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.
“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.
“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.
“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.
More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.
“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.
Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.
When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.
The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.
“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.
He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.
He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.
You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.
Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.
“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.
“You jump, I jump, Jack.”
He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.
“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.
It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.
That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.
You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.
“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”
You hold back a smile.
“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.
“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”
“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.
“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.
“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.
You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.
Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.
You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.
“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”
“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”
“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.
“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.
“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.
“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”
“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.
You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.
Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?
You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.
“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.
“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”
“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.
“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.
“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”
It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”
You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.
“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.
“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.
“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…
You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.
“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”
“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”
You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.
At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.
“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.
Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.
“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.
“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.
With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.
Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.
“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.
“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.
“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.
You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.
“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.
“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.
It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.
“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.
“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.
It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.
“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”
You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.
You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.
“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.
“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.
“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.
“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.
“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”
You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?
When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—
He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.
That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.
You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.
Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.
You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.
Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.
You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.
“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.
“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.
“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.
“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”
“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.
“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.
“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.
“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.
“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.
“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.
“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”
“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.
“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”
“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”
“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”
You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?
“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”
“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”
“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”
You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.
You’ve never felt less like celebrating.
At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.
“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.
“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.
“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”
You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?
“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.
“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.
Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.
At least there are two beds, this time.
You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.
You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.
It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.
It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.
“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.
“Where would she be? The front or the back?”
“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.
Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.
The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.
You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.
“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.
“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”
“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.
“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.
“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.
The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.
You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.
“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”
He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.
“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”
He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.
“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.
The words are nice to hear, though.
“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”
You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.
“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.
“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”
“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.
“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.
It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.
“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.
“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”
“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.
“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”
“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.
“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.
“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”
“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.
“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.
“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”
“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”
“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.
“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.
“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.
“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.
“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”
You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.
The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!
Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner
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applepiekyuu · 6 months ago
Text
“almost funny”
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synopsis: suna rintarou thinks you’re out of his league, and you think he’s out of yours.
tagged: general dumbassery, fwb-to-lovers, some profanity, sexual references but nothing explicit.
commitment level: 5.6k words.
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It’s almost funny, really. It’s funny how what started out as a purely physical transaction has now transformed into a one way ticket to Simpville with the name Suna Rintarou stamped on it in big red letters. Suna runs a hand through his hair in frustration as he stares down at your sleeping form, curled up in his SF Giants tee that fits you like an oversized nightgown. He loves how you look there, wearing his clothes, bed head resting on his pillows. It’s almost embarrassing how much he loves it. How much he might love you. 
He doesn’t really remember when he started seeing you as more than a good fuck. Maybe it was that time you told him he looked pretty with your lipgloss smeared across his mouth. 
“That’s a nice shade on you,” you’d laughed as he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “You should wear it more often.” 
Then, before he could respond, you’d yanked him back in by the collar, licking into his mouth, deep and dirty. He shivers now even just thinking about it, recalling the taste of that lipgloss. Strawberry lemonade, the sort that comes in little bottles at the dollar store. However “pretty” he might’ve looked in that moment, he’s sure you looked a hundred times better. You always do, and you don’t even have to try. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even in your worst moments. 
Or maybe it was the time you remembered his birthday when no one else did. January 25th; all his friends had taken off on their ski trips or tropical vacations, but you showed up to his apartment toting a cupcake and a single candle, belting a loud, out of tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ until he shut you up with an impulsive kiss on the lips. You’d been surprised, but not so surprised you couldn’t kiss him back. Suna’s pretty sure most friends-with-benefits don’t do that sort of thing. They don’t sit across from each other at the kitchen table, splitting a vanilla cupcake and laughing over matching frosting mustaches. They don’t hug each other goodbye after two hours of scrolling through YouTube and nothing else, content to linger in that air of tentative familiarity and pseudo-friendship. 
Whatever the reason, whenever it happened, all Suna knows now is you’re more than just a fuck buddy. He doesn’t even want to associate the term with you — it feels disrespectful. He wishes he could just stop pretending. Stop pretending he doesn’t want you to be his. 
“Hey.” 
Suna grins at your low, throaty morning voice. It’s cute. 
“Hey,” he responds, reaching forward to flick your shoulder. “You slept in.” 
“Did I?” You blink the sleep from your eyes and squint at Suna’s bedside clock. 9:06. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.” 
You fly out of bed, wiggling into your jeans and tossing your hair into a careless ponytail before frantically scanning the room. “Have you seen my sweater anywhere?”
Suna exhales through his nose before getting up and walking over to his closet. “I hung it up last night so it wouldn’t be wrinkled.”
You freeze in your tracks, slowly turning with a teasing grin plastered on your face. “Oh? How considerate of you.”
Suna shrugs, avoiding your gaze. He feels a flush rise to cheeks and desperately hopes it doesn’t show. “Just being polite.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a little crush on me,” you crow before taking the sweater from the hanger and slipping it over your head. 
“You wish,” he snorts, but all he can think is you’re absolutely right. 
You ignore him and begin shoveling all your things into your purse: a compact mirror, lipstick, house keys. You glance at the clock again. “I’m gonna be so late to this lecture. Damn. Maybe I can text Aiko and ask her to record the first part for me.”
Suna raises an eyebrow. He remembers your friend Aiko from a party last year, before you and he began your… arrangement. She’s outgoing, friendly, and probably the flakiest person he’s ever met. “She’s not gonna do that. Just let me drive.”
“No, it’s fine,” you automatically brush him off, heading into the bathroom to splash your face with lukewarm water. “You probably have your own shit to take care of.”
Yeah, you, he thinks, but instead he says, “Not really. Plus, you’ll probably miss the whole thing if you try to bike to campus. Let me take you in the car. I’ll strap the bike onto the back.” 
You give him a look. “Are you sure, Rin?”
“It’s really not a big deal,” he says, throwing on a shirt. “Outside in five, and I’ll have you there by 9:30, easy.” 
After a few more weak protestations, you finally agree, and as he drives you to your university, he lets himself pretend you’re his girlfriend sitting there in the passenger seat. He turns on your favorite artist’s Spotify mix on the aux and smiles to himself when you hum along, watching the city fly past out the window. What he wouldn’t give for that reality, one where he can love you without all these restrictions, these tricky boundaries between friends and lovers. When you jump out of the car, calling a cheeky “I’ll text you!” over your shoulder, he pretends it’s an affectionate “I’ll see you for dinner tonight!” instead. He pretends that instead of rushing to get away from him and into the lecture hall, you kiss him on the forehead and squeeze his shoulder, reluctant to leave.
“Fuck me,” Suna says angrily before slamming his palm into the horn, scaring a few freshman walking to class. “And fuck you too!” 
He’s not sure who “you” is. Maybe the universe. 
No, Suna Rintarou doesn’t know why or how it happened, but he’s in too deep now. And he’s pretty damn sure you’ll never feel the same way. 
+
You slide into your seat beside Aiko just as the guest lecturer pulls up his power point, breathing out a sigh of relief. Aiko shoots you a grin, waggling her eyebrows. Suna? she mouths, and you roll your eyes, nodding nonetheless. Aiko can hardly wait until after the lecture to start pestering you about it. 
“So,” she says as you leave the auditorium together. “Did you tell him yet?” 
“Tell him what?” You dig in your bag for your water bottle, groaning when you remember leaving it on the edge of Suna’s sink last night. 
“Tell him that you’re in loooooove,” Aiko sings, nudging your shoulder. 
You scoff. “Okay, first of all, I don’t love him.”
“But you like him,” Aiko persists, and you hold up a finger. 
“And second of all, even if I did, I would never tell him.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes before realizing you hadn’t taken your makeup off and thus probably have awful raccoon eye bags. “He’s so out of my league it’s not even funny. It’s kind of pathetic for me to think he’d ever like me back.” 
Aiko scoffs. “If anything, you’re out of his league. You could pull any guy you wanted to. And when I say any, I mean any. Like, I bet you could even get Jake Gyllenhaal.” 
You laugh. “Why specifically Jake Gyllenhaal?”
Aiko shrugs. “Dunno. Just the first hot guy that came to mind. But forget him. My point is, Suna Rintarou is definitely yours for the taking. All you have to do is —”
“I know, I know,” you interrupt. “All I have to do is confess.” 
“Exactly,” says Aiko. Before she can open her mouth again, you cut in. 
“Okay, but listen, Aiko,” you say. “Suna’s the kind of guy who doesn’t let himself get attached. He fully admitted to me when we first hooked up that he’d never had a girlfriend. And that’s obviously not from lack of female interest. It’s because he doesn’t want one.”
“Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t found the right person yet.” Aiko starts heading towards the campus coffee shop, and you follow her. 
“Sure,” you say, getting in line. The cafe is crowded with students getting in their daily caffeination, inhaling sugary lattes and bitter espressos just to stay awake through their next class. Ah… college. “Or maybe he just. Doesn’t. Want. One.” 
Aiko keeps arguing all the way up until you reach the cash register, where you realize you haven’t even decided on what to order yet. 
“Hey there,” says the cashier, smiling sunnily. “What can I get for ya?” 
You blink. He’s attractive. Very attractive, actually. Bleach blonde, a crooked grin that screams trouble in the best sort of way. Miya, says the little name plate pinned to his shirt. “I, uhh…”
“Take your time,” he says leaning forward like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Between you and me, we have an excellent mocha latte. Not too sweet, y’know?”
You find your manners. “Oh, um, yeah. That sounds great, actually.” 
“One mocha latte, then?” he asks, picking up a cup, and you nod. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of serving today?” 
When you tell him your name, he smiles to himself and scrawls it on the cup. “Pretty.”
You flush and pay, hands shaking a little when you slide your card down the side of the machine. The cashier notices and shoots you a knowing look. Five minutes later, when you pick up your drink from the other side of the counter, you see not only your name written on the lid, but a phone number, too, along with a tiny winking face. 
“What’d I tell you?” exclaims Aiko shrily when you leave the shop. “Any. Guy. Period.” 
You shake your head in exasperation, but you can’t help but throw a final glance over your shoulder, meeting the eyes of the cute cashier one more time. Maybe Aiko does have a point. 
+
That weekend, Suna’s stretched out on his couch, dangling his feet over the armrest and staring up at the ceiling. It’s one of those lazy Saturday afternoons, and usually he’d be enjoying his alone time. Not today, though. Today there’s something — someone — on his mind, and that someone is spelled y-o-u. His phone pings, and he snatches it up with embarrassing speed, groaning when he sees it’s just Atsumu. 
“Bastard,” he mutters, not even bothering to open the message. Probably just asking for the O-chem lab answers. 
Suna rolls over onto his stomach, pulling up your contact name. What he really wants to do is see you, but how is he supposed to do that without sounding weirdly desperate? Hey, he types out. Wanna come over and watch a movie? He pauses for a moment before adding, Pizza’s on me. 
He buries his face in his hands and deletes the text. That makes it sound like he’s asking you out. Well, that’s what he does want to do, but you can’t know that. He’s fairly certain if you knew how he felt about you, you’d freak out. Girls don’t like to be tied down, he reminds himself. Suna groans again, grabbing two fistfuls of hair in irritation. 
“Why are women so complicated?” he says aloud, letting the words echo in his empty apartment. He takes a couple seconds to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and unlock his phone again, this time settling on a simple Come over. Short, sweet, and to the point. Well, not exactly. That makes it sound like all he wants to do is sleep together, when he’d really rather just… talk. Spend time with you. 
“Oh, God,” he mutters. “I’m so done for.” 
It takes what seems like forever for you to arrive, breathless from biking, hair slightly mussed. Suna grins, biting his lip. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. Even if all he can get is the sex, then he’s sure as hell going to appreciate it. You smell like lavender laundry detergent, he notices when you press yourself into him, fumbling to close the door behind you without breaking the kiss. 
“Well, hello there,” you laugh when he finally breaks away and draws in a shaking breath. “Somebody’s eager.”
Suna rolls his eyes. “As if. You just took so long to get here.” 
You cock an eyebrow. “You texted me like half an hour ago.”
“Yeah, and you’re half an hour too late.”
You snort and hurl a pillow from the sofa at him. He catches it and smiles, taking your wrist and drawing you in for another messy, open-mouthed kiss.
“Sorry that I don’t have the power of teleportation,” you quip, laughing when he pulls you into the bedroom. Suna resolves to take his time with you today, undressing you carefully, trailing his lips down your sternum and collarbones, grinning to himself whenever you gasp. He almost catches himself saying “I love you” at one point as you cling to him, mumbling his name, but he placates himself with kissing you extra hard at the end instead, pulling you into his chest and falling back into the pillows. 
Usually, you’d take a few minutes to lay in silence, tracing shapes in his skin, and he’d lean back with closed eyes, imagining what it would be like to be loved by you. Slow early morning kisses, skin on skin, whispering and giggling and everything cheesy he used to hate but now wishes he could experience with you. Today, though, you peel yourself off of him and grab your phone as soon as it buzzes, fingers flying in response to whoever had texted you.
“New boy toy?” he jokes, almost choking when you don’t immediately say no. Oh, shit. “You’re kidding.”
“Just a guy I met the other day,” you say casually. Suna stares, slack jawed. “Works at the coffee shop near the quad.” 
“Coffee shop?” He furrows his brow. Doesn’t he know someone who works there? He internally scowls, digging into the back of his brain. Aran? Osamu? 
“Mm,” you say, suppressing a smile as the nameless suitor sends another text. “His name’s Atsumu Miya.”
Suna’s heart nearly falls right out of his chest and cracks at his feet. “No.”
You look up, raising an eyebrow. “No?”
“Not him,” Suna says, forgetting himself, forgetting the nature of your relationship. 
“I didn’t realize you were in charge of who I can and cannot be interested in,” you say bitingly. 
Suna sits up. “I’m not. It’s just, Atsumu… he’s not your type.” 
“You know him?”
“Yeah,” Suna says, thinking back on his days observing the Miya twins’ antics. “He’s not your kind of guy, trust me.”
“Pray tell then,” you say. Oh, fuck. You’re irritated. “Who exactly is my kind of guy?” 
Me, he thinks. I’m your kind of guy. “I don’t know. Just trust me though, okay? Atsumu… he’s difficult.” 
“Thanks, Suna,” you say, tone tinged with sarcasm. Suna cringes. You only ever call him by his surname when you’re upset with him. “But I think I can go out with whoever I want to go out with.” 
“Fine.” The word tumbles out more harshly than he’d meant it to. 
You stare at him in disbelief. “What, are you mad at me or something?” 
Suna exhales heavily. “No, I’m not mad. It’s not like we’re dating or anything. I just wanted to give you a little guidance. As your friend.” 
“As my friend?” you repeat. “My friend?”
Now it’s Suna's turn to be confused. “Are we not friends?”
“I don’t know, Suna,” you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, pulling your clothes on. “You tell me.” 
“I’m not sure what you want me to say here,” he says, watching as you struggle to pull your shorts back on. He knows what he wants to say. No, we’re not friends. We should be together. Isn’t it obvious? 
You huff, grabbing your bag and the water bottle you’d left behind the other day. “You know, I don’t really know either. Forget I ever said anything. I guess I just thought…” 
You trail off and shake your head, heading towards the door. Suna scrambles out of bed to follow you, pulling on his pants as he hops down the hall on one leg. “What’s that?” 
“I said forget it,” you call over your shoulder, trying to slam the door, but Suna catches your wrist. As you stare up at him, he thinks he sees your lip quivering, eyes shining with half-formed tears. “Let me go.” 
“I’m serious,” Suna says. “What did you think?” 
You draw in a deep breath, and for a second, Suna thinks you’re about to say the words he’s always wanted you to say. Then you look away. “Let. Me. Go.” 
Slowly, Suna releases you from his grasp, and you stumble backwards, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. 
“Don’t call me.”
“Wait, no —”
“Don’t call me, Suna!” you say loudly, before turning on your heel and speed walking down the stairs. 
Oh. Oh. Suna stares in shock at the place you were just standing on his doorstep. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 
When he heads back inside, head empty but for the single thought, I’ve just lost the best thing that ever happened to me, he glances at his phone on the counter. In an instant, he’s opening up his messages, pulling up Atsumu’s. 
Met a cute girl LOL. Gonna bring her to that party on Friday. 
Then, in a separate bubble — Btw: chem answers? 
+
“And then he called me his friend,” you say angrily, handing Aiko the box of Oreos. The two of you are sprawled on the floor of her dorm room. “Just like we were two bros who got together to play XBox every once in a while, instead of two people who had literally just banged.” 
Aiko takes a cookie before handing them back to you. “Asshole.”
“I mean, I know technically we were ‘friends with benefits,’” you say, stuffing an Oreo in your mouth. “But I guess I thought we could be something more. I thought there was no way he could kiss me like that, look at me like that without feeling something. Guess I was wrong.” 
“Screw him,” Aiko says. “You’ve got boys lined up around the block, and he thinks he can treat you like rubbish? Absolute bullshit.”
“I don’t have boys ‘lined up around the block,’” you remind her, smiling regardless. “Just one.”
“And that one is hella cute!” Aiko says. “You’re way too cool to pine over some guy who thinks you’ll just answer his every beck and call without even committing to a relationship.” 
You sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… ack. I don’t know. Am I jumping to conclusions? He seemed like he wanted to talk to me more, but I kind of stormed off without saying anything.” 
“Seems like he was pretty clear,” Aiko says with a shrug. “Your call, though. If I were you, I’d forget about him. Plus, you have Atsumu now. That’s a promising route.” 
You smile down at the Oreos, thinking about the cheery bottle blonde. “Yeah… he invited me to a party this coming Friday.” 
Aiko gives you a look and nudges your knee with her own. “You’d better wear that black dress.”
“You think?” you laugh, momentarily forgetting about Suna. 
“Oh, definitely. Gotta look your best on the first date.” 
“Right, and then after that I can just dress like a bum,” you joke. You purse your lips. “Rin might be there. Apparently he and Atsumu are pretty close.” 
“Even better,” insists Aiko. “Make him suffer a little bit. He won’t like seeing you all dolled up on Atsumu Miya’s arm.” 
“I’m not gonna try to make him jealous, Aiko,” you say, and Aiko shakes her head.
“No, I just think he needs to understand what he lost,” she says. “You don’t even have to pay attention to him at all, though. You should try and get to know Atsumu a little better.”
“Yeah, okay,” you say, before reaching down for another cookie. “Oh. We’re out.”
“Gas station run?”
“Gas station run.” 
+
When Friday rolls around, you’ve successfully managed to avoid thinking about Suna the entire day. You have a calculus exam in the morning, and then a club meeting in the afternoon, and by the time you get done with everything it’s already time to get ready to leave for the party. It’s across town at someone’s loft apartment, so Atsumu offers to give you a ride, rolling up in a shiny Lexus, a sharp contrast from Suna’s old Chevy. 
“Hey,” he says, getting out to open the door for you. “You look great.”
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you say. “Although, I might prefer the work uniform.”
“Oh, please,” Atsumu says with a grin. “That apron does nothing to flatter my figure.” 
“Mhm.” The ride there is a slightly awkward one, but that’s normal, you tell yourself. You’ve gotten so used to the easy, teasing camaraderie you and Suna have that you’re rusty in regards to flirting. Atsumu has a different sense of humor, too, nothing like the dry sarcasm Suna’s such an expert in. You shake your head. Stop thinking about him. 
Even sitting next to a new guy, you can’t help but run last weekend’s drama over in your head. The past few months have been a jumble of mixed signals, and last Saturday was no different. How he tenderly brushed your hair from your face as he hovered over you, how he pulled you into his arms afterwards … how he seemed almost jealous when you mentioned Atsumu. Was it really jealousy? Exactly how much does Suna Rintarou care for you? You roll the numbers inside your head, trying to quantify the soft touches and lingering stares. He’s not easy to read; trying to understand Suna is like trying to decipher Greek without ever taking a single class. 
Even trying to get a measure on how much you care for him is difficult. You definitely like him as more than a friend. The only reason you agreed to the whole friends-with-benefits thing in the first place was because of a little crush that grew, that fed on that intimacy… but you’re not so sure now. 
“Here we are,” says Atsumu, jolting you from your contemplation as he pulls up alongside the curb. When you climb out of the car, he takes you by the hand, flashing you a quick smile. Your heart trips over itself, and you smile back. “Let’s do this.” 
+
Suna doesn’t show up to the party. He spends most of Friday busying himself at home, paying off a couple electricity bills, cleaning out the fridge. He even does a load of laundry. That’s how bored he is. By the time the clock strikes eight, he feels as though he’s Swiffered every single kitchen tile, folded every shirt, and wiped down every counter in the entire apartment, all to avoid stewing over you and him and all the ways he keeps messing up. But after doing everything on his to-do list and watching a movie and cooking his own dinner (unheard of!) he finds himself pacing around the living room, biting at his nails and thinking about you. More specifically, you and Atsumu. He hopes you’re not wearing that little dress you wore to the club with him a couple months ago. Not that you don’t look great in it — you do, and that’s the issue. The better you look, the more likely Suna will never get a chance to be with you again. 
To be fair, he’s not entirely sure how much of a chance he’s ever had with you. You’re incredible, plain and simple. Gorgeous, intelligent, the best player two on every video game he’s ever played with you. You’re not especially adept at the games themselves; no, there’s just something about you. There’s always just been something about you he can’t seem to find anywhere else. 
“Damn it,” Suna grunts aloud, flopping down on the couch. It’s nearing half past eleven now. He wonders what you’re doing. Dancing to some shitty music in some crowded living room. Sipping a can of cheap liquor. Letting Atsumu touch your waist, his hand dipping lower and lower until — 
Suna buries his face in the couch cushion. He’s usually not one to let his imagination run away with him, but tonight seems to be one of many recent exceptions. If only there was a way to know where he stands with you, or at least where you stand with Atsumu…
Well, there is a way, actually. Almost of its own accord, his hand inches towards his phone, sliding it open and somehow finding its way into his Snapchat. Fingers shaking, Suna clicks on Osamu’s story. It’s dimly lit, a mass of bodies, loud, drunk guys and scantily clad girls. The music is too loud, even through the phone. Suna squints at the screen — there’s Aran, even Kita’s there, quietly sitting in the corner, but no sight of — Suna’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Because there you are, and you’re not alone. You’re sitting on Atsumu’s lap, but he can’t see your expression because Atsumu is kissing you sloppily, and — oh, God — it looks like you’re kissing him back. 
And you’re wearing the fucking dress. 
“Damn,” Osamu says in the background. “Looks like he’s getting some tonight.”
Suna throws his phone across the room like it’s a grenade, staring down at his empty hands in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Not to him. Not to you. 
For the first time, Suna Rintarou thinks he understands what it really means to want someone. Not in a sexual way, but in the deepest sense of the word. Want. He wants you, and he’s pretty sure he’s never wanted anyone or anything quite so much in his life. 
All of a sudden, before his brain even has a chance to catch up, Suna finds himself shrugging on a jacket and snatching his keys from the table, dashing out the door like he’s being chased. If he leaves now, he thinks, starting the car and nearly slamming the door on his foot, he can get to the party before you leave. And then, well, then he’s not quite sure what he’ll do, but he’ll do something. 
Again, though, it seems as if the universe might be against him, because there’s an accident on the highway and it takes twice as long to get across town as it should. Suna cusses loudly over the incessant honking and chews on the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. When the traffic lets up and he finally pulls up to the apartment complex, parallel parking in a spot that’s probably illegal, he races up the stairs and into the loft, grabbing the first partygoer he sees. The poor kid’s plastered beyond belief and stares at Suna like he’s an extraterrestrial, eyes glassy.
“You see a girl leave here? ‘Bout this tall, probably left with some douchey looking blonde dude?” 
The kid blinks, hard and slow, before nodding. “Yeah, man, you just missed her. That your chick or somethin’? Because she was sucking face with —” 
Suna spins on his heel before the kid gets a chance to finish his sentence. He’s lucky Suna doesn’t deck him the head, he’s so irritated. 
“Sucking face,” he mumbles, climbing back into the car. He has the route to your house memorized (although he’s not sure how), and he’s pretty sure he breaks about twenty traffic laws trying to get there, so it takes significantly less time to arrive, but to Suna, it feels like an eternity. How did he ever sleep soundly at night knowing other guys had a shot at you before this? He doesn’t know, and he hopes he never has to worry about it again. Not after tonight. 
He gets there just as Atsumu’s pulling out of the driveway. Suna flashes him a mental middle finger and resolves to kick his ass later. No time for that right now. You’re still standing on the front porch, and when Suna stumbles out of the car, you turn towards him, mouth agape. 
“Rin? What are you—”
“Give me a chance.” He’s breathless, eyes wide and hair whipping around his face in the cool breeze. His heartbeat pounds in his ears like it’s about to burst blood vessels.
“Huh?”
“Give me a chance,” he repeats, reaching forward to take your hand. Your palm is cold against his. “I can do so much better, I promise.” 
You furrow your brows. “What in the world are you talking about, Rin?”
The dam breaks. The dam breaks, and everything — the longing, the frustration, everything — comes pouring out in a waterfall of rushing words he doesn’t even have time to think over before they splash at your feet.
“I can do so much better than Atsumu. He doesn’t know you. I know you, and I, well, I’ve liked you since forever, okay? I know your favorite color and your birthday and which Chinese place you like to get takeout from on Saturday nights.” Suna clears his throat. “I know that you like to be hugged from behind and that you hate it when people see you cry. I know so many things about you, and I want to know more.” 
“Rin—”
He holds up a hand. “Just listen. I know we’re just fuck buddies, or friends with benefits, or whatever the hell you want to call it, but I want to change that. You mean so much more to me than the sex. God, even if we never slept together again, I would still love you.” 
You stare at him. “Love?”
Suna swallows hard. “Yeah, fuck it. Love. I love you. Whatever that means to you, it means to me. I love your stupid jokes and your stupid laugh. To be honest, I’m so in love it feels like I’ll never love anyone else.”
He stops to take a deep breath and a shaky laugh. “Pathetic, right? I know it is. I can’t help it. I’m well aware that Atsumu is way more charming and outgoing, and I was probably wrong when I said he wasn’t your type… but I just need to know if I have even the smallest chance of winning you over.” 
There’s a beat of silence. Then another one. You’re gazing at him, head cocked, and the seconds tick by. He still has your hand in his, growing warmer via body heat. Suna feels himself grow increasingly nervous at your expression, curious and almost apathetic — until a wide smile breaks across your face. You laugh, and he thinks it must be the best sound he’s ever heard. 
“You weren’t wrong.”
“What?”
“He’s not my type,” you say. “We didn’t click.” 
“But — I saw, uh — Osamu’s story,” Suna stammers. “Sucking face.”
“Sucking face?” You squint in confusion before chuckling again. “Ah. Yeah, I kissed him. It was part of some stupid game. He’s kind of bad at it.” 
“Atsumu’s a bad kisser?” 
“Well,” you say, drawing the word out. “I wouldn’t say bad. It’s just… you’re better.” 
Suna’s silent for a second, letting the words ricochet around his brain. He’s better. He’s a better kisser. It was just a game. You’re not into Atsumu. “So… does that mean…?” 
“I love you, too.” You smile, and it’s not like your usual cocky grin. It’s sweet and almost… shy. 
“You love me, too?” Suna repeats in utter shock. He hadn’t expected to get this far.
“That’s what I just said,” you say. “What are you, a parrot? Speaking of which, though, I think that whole speech was the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” 
Suna doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step closer and pulls you in for a hug. A real hug, not like the hesitant embrace you’d given him on his birthday, or the side hug he gave you after running into you at the grocery market a few weeks ago. No, this is a true, bona fide hug, and he translates everything he’s ever wanted to tell you but couldn’t into his arms wrapping around your waist. 
“So… wanna come in and watch a movie?” 
+
A little while later, Suna’s stretched out on your mattress with you between his legs, chin resting on the top of your head. You’ve changed out of your dress and wiped the makeup from your face, and Suna catches you yawning in the corner of his eye. There’s a trashy romcom droning on your laptop at the foot of the bed. To any outside onlooker, the scene is mundane, just a typical couple enjoying each other’s company. To Suna, though, this is paradise. 
It’s almost funny. It’s funny how, a week ago, Suna was a boy pining for a girl he thought he had no chance with. He looked at you and saw something unattainable, someone who would only ever want him temporarily. (And, unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way.) He experienced an overwhelming amount of want, heart knotting in on itself and twisting and turning until it pushed him over the edge, forcing him to confront his own desires. His own inadequacies. 
It’s funny how love is what everyone longs for, but it’s also the hardest reward to earn. It’s the most uncomfortable, heart-wrenching, nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing pathway to happiness Suna’s ever seen. But still… he’d do it all over again if he had to. The months of headaches, the overthinking. It’s worth it. You’re worth it. 
Oh, well. What can he say? Suna leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your temples, and you tilt your head up to smile at him. Love’s a funny thing. 
Fortunately, Suna’s always down for a good joke.
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sj-ficrecs · 4 months ago
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FIC REC 9!
What I’ve been reading and enjoying lately, as usual, no specific order. :)
If you’re new, this is a just a fic rec blog where I reblog all the fics I’ve been reading/enjoying! Mostly Bucky x reader, sometimes Steve x reader, Chris Beck x reader, Sebastian x reader, maybe a few others occasionally. 
Divider by @whimsicalrogers​ :)
PREVIOUS FIC RECS HERE!
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Bucky x reader:
Mess Is Mine by @scrumptious-delusion​ Boxer!Bucky x reader
“as a date night surprise your boyfriend takes you to a boxing match. little does he know, one of the competitors is responsible for breaking your heart five years ago, and an accidental encounter is about to send your whole world spinning.”
Sweet Eyes by @houseravenclaws​ high school!Bucky x high school!reader
“in which bucky wants to take you on a date and you keep saying no. good thing, he doesn’t give up on what he wants.”
(Un)cool by @belowva​ Rockstar!Bucky x journalist!reader
“in the summer of 1973, after covering the howling commandos’ concert for a night, you - a young and inexperienced music journalist - accidentally end up following the up and coming band from new york city across the country. between shows, parties, backstage nonsense, interviews and failed attempts at writing a cover story for rolling stone magazine, you end up developing a love/hate relationship with their brooding, but devilishly handsome, guitarist james “call me bucky” barnes. (based on “almost famous”)”
I Like You by @deaan​ College!Bucky x reader
“they say that there are five stages of having a crush. This is the story of how Y/N goes through each of them while harboring a crush on the popular nerd-slash-jock at her college, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes”
Pour Some Sugar on Me by @buckycuddlebuddy​ Rockstar!Bucky x virgin!reader
“you were hypnotized. his handsome face was contorted with such emotions, he was so lost in the music, lost in the instrument, and it was mesmerizing to watch.”
Dirty Paws & Wet Kisses by @sunshineandaisies​ Modern!Bucky x reader
“Holy shit, your dog led you to the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.
The stranger took note of you before you had a chance to say anything, and he raised his brow at you while angling his face away from Hazel’s kisses. “Does this belong to you?” he asked, pinching the tags on Hazel’s collar between his thumb and two fingers. “Hazelnut Mocha.” He snorted. “Is that your dog’s name or your Starbucks order?””
I Saw You and I Knew by @sinner-as-saint​ Biker!Bucky x reader
“You met Bucky unexpectedly at an unfamiliar bar one night - one of your last nights of freedom before your parents marry you off to some rich, young man. Bucky happened to be so different from all the men you had dated or you were used to seeing that it was a little bit of a surprise how reckless and open he was. You had been subconsciously looking for a way out of the situation you were in for days, so when Bucky makes you a rather unusual proposal; you accept immediately. And it ends up being one of the best things you ever agreed to.”
Construction worker!Bucky asking you out by @angrythingstarlight​
Based upon an ask about Beefy construction worker Bucky trying to ask you out on a date. 
Fairground by @softlybarnes​ Bucky x reader
“The reader and Bucky go to a summer carnival. Bucky is determined to win a prize for the reader.”
The Mess by @sanguineterrain​ Bucky x Avenger!reader
“A wild night in Vegas changes everything between you and Bucky. Suddenly, all eyes are on you and you’re left wondering just how much can change between you and a man whose guts you hate (and who also hates yours).”
The Football Player by @sunny-reys​ College!Bucky x reader
“Based on this request: “Bucky is a football player and you are a fan of the team but you’re also really shy. Secretly Bucky also developed a crush on you. He sees you getting mocked by some idiots and he gets in between to stand up for you. Later then he asks you for a walk and he kisses you.”
Sprinkle of Cinnamon by @forever-rogue​ Bucky x reader
“Another dull day at your coffee shop turns much better when an unexpected visitor becomes your favorite regular.”
Troublemaker by @jurassicbarnes​ Bucky x reader
“In which you thank Bucky in your own wonderful way. He kinda loves it.”
Find Me by @wicked-mind​ Bucky x reader
“Bucky finds his peace with Sam in Louisiana after dealing with the Flag Smashers. But when nightmares of a woman he can’t remember start haunting him, he has to find the reason why.“
Fool For You by @baroquebucky​ Bucky x reader
“bucky just wants to be with you forever“
Softcore by @kaitkat​ College!Bucky x reader
“You transfer to NYU in the beginning of sophomore year after getting an internship at Stark Industries. You needed a fresh start and it was the perfect opportunity. You meet your new roommates and immediately get along, they adopt you into their friend group. They're an unlikely bunch, but one of them catches your attention, Bucky Barnes. The two of you instantly click, but an amazing first day in New York quickly comes to an end. You try to forget about it, but it's not as easy as you want it to be. The fresh start isn't all you hoped it would be. Does a new city mean a new romance? Or does it mean new heartbreak?”
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Sebastian x reader:
Three Days by @revisionaryhistory​ Sebastian x reader
“Sebastian picks up more than just chocolate chips at the grocery. A lot can happen in three days.“ 
Lost in Your Eyes by @multifandomwriter​ Sebastian x actress!reader
“You and Sebastian have been dating for a few years, since you met during the filming of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. While it’s adorable that you both are still in the honeymoon phase, it can get you in trouble when you get too distracted by each other at a panel at Comic-Con”
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mrsh0tchner · a month ago
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A Letter From Aaron
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Summary: While overseas Hotch writes a letter to the reader
Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!reader
Warnings: None<3
Hey Sweetheart,
I'm sorry it's been a while, Pakistan has kept me busy. We are constantly going and going but I promised myself I would find time to write to the love of my life. Unfortunately for me, I'm not sure the Beatles are accepting letters at this time, so I'll just have to write to you.
 Look, see, I can crack jokes. If this was anyone else I was writing to, I don't think they would believe it's me writing this letter. Most of the team have brought up how they thought I forgot how to smile before you joined the team, and honestly they're not entirely wrong. It's just something about you that makes me wanna smile and never stop. Plus you always smile at my jokes and I'd tell jokes till I die if I got to see that smile every day. God that smile, makes me fall in love with you over and over. Don't even get me started on that laugh.
Oh, that laugh. I'm not talking about the little laugh you use around work or when we're out for dinner but I mean your real laugh. The laugh that I heard for the first time when I took us to the aquarium and I had my back turned to the tank and the shark bumped into it and startled me and you just found that hilarious. The moment that laugh hit my ears I knew I was going to marry you. Your laugh is such a good representation of you. It is cheerful and bright, just like you. Y/N Hotchner you are the light of my life. There is not a day that goes by where I don't think of you. You are the reason I get up every morning. I love you so much, it's as though “I love you” can never fully capture how much you mean to me. How can the amount of adoration and passion I have for you fit into 3 words? How can 8 letters express how I'm not complete without you in my life. But as of now “I love you” will have to do, so as many times as I say it, I want you to know I mean it with every fiber of my being. Actions speak louder than words, and man I can't wait to come back home and spend every day proving it to you. We can go back to having those weekly movie nights when we're home just cuddling on the couch, where we both know it'll lead to more. I mean can you blame me though? You're literally perfect in every way, I can't help it.
I do hope to be coming back soon. I also would say go ahead and pick the movie for when I come back but you and I both know I’ll tell you to pick, then you'll throw a fit of how there are too many options then i'll just end up picking. Every time knowing I will choose a movie we've already seen so we don't miss it when we get occupied later on 
I love and miss you Y/N M/N
Sincerely, Aaron Christopher
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tag list:
@ssahotchie @arsonhotchner @lovelybucky1 @heliotropehotch @reidgraygubler @sparklinspence @princesssmooshie @qtip-blog @ssa-isabelle @kuolonsyoja @doctorstethoscope @venti-caramel-mocha
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existslikepristin · 3 months ago
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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.
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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).
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rebelliousrochelle · 2 months ago
Text
TIDDI: an unending story-part 4
THE BOOK OF YOU & I
I wrote this for the future 70-year-old me, who’s lived a blissful life and opened the box labelled “2020-2022” after her grandkids asked about a picture of a boy they found in her trunk.
some bonds remain unnamed
and in the course of time I’ve learnt that imprisoning these bonds into some labels or categories is not fair
some relations are like the rain- bringing happiness disguised in petrichor but whose arrival is unforeseen and departure goes unnoticed
these celestial connections and the mountains share quite a lot similarities-seen from afar both shine brighter than a diamond and catch the viewer in awe, while closeness reveals the ugly cracks underneath.
to me, he used to be that celestial connection-that bond-that relation
well it all began in the back of the park
I was just fourteen but I fell so hard
all these years went by and he held my heart
but he didn’t love me and we fell apart
when he said he’ll never reciprocate my love
I hallucinated and found myself in a boat
in the middle of a sea sceptically looking above
“am I drowning or was never afloat?”
taken aback, over and over I recited his name
jewish origin-god’s own-‘faithful’ it meant
scoffed at myself went down the memory lane
desiring love over friendship so filthy I felt
supressing my love ,wearing a mask of pretence
listened to him talk about his goals and dreams
it started a war against me that’d hurt immense
aimless-result anticipated, my soul it reamed
strived to carry us despite the detriment
one sided love obstructed often
with a warning should come sentiments
“for your safety, proceed with caution”
now that he’s gone I’ve cried with many
they said you’ll be fine as pain becomes art
I bled on paper splashed ink I had any
yet it still hurt deep inside my heart
wish I could convey `a mon coeur
that we kept our morale
despite it our future was blur
and I was neither his boo nor his pal
yet, even after all these years all I can say is,
in the words of Alec Benjamin,
don’t tell me that it’s over, the book of you & i
now you’ve scribbled out my name, and you’ve erased my favourite lines
there were so many chapters that we never got to write
like “cereal for dinner” or “staying up all night”
I remember where we started, I remembered how you looked
but now I’m missing bits and pieces from the pages that you took
you didn’t give a reason, I’ll forever wonder why
we never got to finish the book of you & I.
©~@rebelliousrochelle
Tumblr media
tagging some beautiful homo sapiens:
@hj-1609 @adii7755 @farhan3d2y @jugn00 @scintillatea@mishti-doi @adoginthemanger @mydogisgaytoo @aadyeah @smr-the-tired-crackhead @thebewilderedpotato @apocalyptic-cake@steamedmomos@zephyr-thefwoggy-likes-sandwich @the-fault-in-our-inquilab @dooareyastudy @archanamalabarik @softteacakes @theonewithtoomuchdrama@ginasholtsoundboard @hanirii @ambivertedfrog @desi-tube @liestookmyvibes @edgar--allan--h0e @fatpotatosaysmoo @thesexypanda-boo @vanini-head @wolfstarrysky @burningqueentimemachine @orchidace-ae @manfromthemountains @raenprabhaker @supermeh-krishnah @momo-all-the-way @rustycoffemachine@maccharfucker @suditi-says-chai-is-trash @guerrera-3010 @jurdan-my-beloved@thatchicavai @writingsbypb @ujjwal4ev3r @dherry24 @psycho-mocha @gopikanyari @lilhappylilsad @khalicooker @didyouputyournameinthegobi @hanirii@that-geeky-dude-deactivated2021 @thatrandomfangirlll@starviki@reddish-green-personality@iambecomeyourvillain @ghafa-dale @22herondale @niastormsanctuary-bolastairkanej @queen-born-out-of-fire @clarys-heosphoros @revvs-trash @coffee-fandoms-and-chaos @gods-shadowsandcrows @nopeimnotdoingthat @darklingswhxore @darkshadowqueensrule @neo-lightchild-decafineator @pink-party-dino @ninacarstairss @herondalesunsetcurve @mauvehedgehogsandrosie@doritosandbluethings@thecreakywriter@crazyas-hell @emaan-says-ure @ohyoumeanher
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nightlychaotic · 5 months ago
Text
I Like You a Latte
“Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so caramel me maybe?”
The barista, Marinette her name tag read, stared at him, a small smirk forming.
“Nice try, Romeo. What can I get you?”
“Surprise me,” Dick grinned as she put something into the monitor next to her.
“For here or to-go?”
“To-go. Name?”
“Dick.”
She smiled, and directed her attention to the next customer, as Dick moved to the side to wait.
“Caramel Macchiato for Romeo!” got called out. Dick looked over to see the barista grinning at him, cup in hand. She gestured it out towards him. He chuckled as he moved to grab it. “Come again soon,” she told him as she handed him the cup. Dick grinned as he left the shop.
--------------
“What can I get you?”
Dick leaned onto the counter, and smiled at the barista. “Are you on the menu?”
“Not today,” she replied with a grin, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Anything else catching your interest?”
“Not nearly as much as you do, but I suppose I’ll take whatever you think and a black coffee.”
“On it. For here or to go today?”
“Here.”
“On it.”
Dick sat at a window seat, glancing out looking at the dreary day as he waited for Tim to arrive. He needed a break from work, so Dick decided to drag him to a coffee shop. Wouldn’t get him to sleep but would get him away for work for a while. A decent compromise.
“Hey,” Tim greeted sitting down across from him.
“Took you long enough,” Dick greeted. Before Tim could respond he heard Marinette call out.
“Flat White and Black Coffee for Romeo!”
Dick went to grab their coffees and came back to Tim’s unimpressed face.
“You’ve been flirting with the barista.”
“Whatever gives you that idea?”
“How’s it working out for you Romeo?”
“Well she gave me a cookie, so.”
--------------
“I've been thinking about you a latte.”
“Oh have you now?”
“I love the way you espresso yourself.”
“Two in short succession. Someone’s upping their game,” she replied grinning. “What’ll it be this time? Or do you want a surprise again?”
“Surprise me.”
“And here or to go?”
“To go.”
“Coming right up.”
Dick didn’t have to wait very long before he heard “Latte with a shot of espresso for Romeo!” ring through the small coffee shop. He grabbed the cup with a smile.
“See you tomorrow.”
“See you then, Romeo.”
--------------
“Hello there, how are you brewing today?”
“I’m brewing well, you?” she replied before clapping a hand over her mouth. “I just punned. Oh dear god. Don’t tell anyone you heard that. I’ll never hear the end of it if that gets out.”
Dick laughed. “It’ll be our secret.”
“Thank you, so much. Surprise you to-go?”
“Got it in one,” Dick replied grinning. Moving off to the side
“Coffee for Romeo,” she called. She handed him a to-go cup and a bag with a few pastries. “My treat for our little secret,” she told him with a small wink.
Dick grinned in return as he took the order from her. “Thanks, Marinette.”
“Thank you.”
--------------
“Where’s Marinette?” Dick found himself asking the blonde barista who stood where Marinette usually did at this time. The blonde gave a quick laugh as he looked at Dick. “So you’re Romeo?” Dick nodded as the blonde continued. “She’s out sick today. She’s been working herself too hard.”
“Actually, if it’s not too much of an ask, I’m a bit busier than I expected and I know for a fact that Marinette doesn’t have a ton of ‘feel better’ supplies as I like to call them. Could I get you to pick some up and drop them off for me? That is if you’re not too busy. I’ll give you your coffee on the house for a week.”
“If it wouldn’t be intruding, I’d be happy to help out.”
“Nah it’ll be. She’ll be glad to have the company,” he said as he scribbled on the back of a napkin, before handing it to Dick. “Here. Supply list and her address. Just knock ‘shave and a haircut’ and you’ll be good to go. Thank you so much.”
“It’s no problem.”
--------------
Dick knocked on the apartment door, bag full The door opened, revealing Marinette, wrapped in a blanket, she didn’t look at him, just turned and trudged back to where she collapsed on the couch, as she started speaking.
“Adrien, how many times do I have to tell you, just wear your key around your neck so you don’t keep forgetting it. You had that stupid bell, you can have a key...You’re not Adrien.” she trailed off as she looked over to where Dick was standing.
Dick shook his head. “I come bearing gifts, though. Your coworker, the blonde one, asked if I could make a supply run and drop it off with you, since the Cafe was a bit busier than he expected.”
“Of course he did. Stupid meddling cat,” she muttered. “Come on in, make yourself at home.”
Dick joined her in the living area, depositing the bag on the coffee table, taking a seat across from her.
“So who’s Adrien?”
“The blonde coworker filling in for me. My roommate. Best friend. You two’d get along great. The cheesy pick-up lines and the puns. He’s the reason you're sworn to secrecy about that pun the other day.”
Dick laughed. “My lips are sealed, Don’t worry.”
“Thank you so much for that. For this too. I’ll owe you.”
“Well in that case…You've turned me down before but I'm asking for an extra shot.”
Marinette laughed, shaking her head a little. “Shoot your shot.”
“Can I java your number? Because I’ve been thinking about you a latte.”
Marinette laughed at that.
“Give me your phone,” she said holding out her hand. Dick handed it over and watched as she put in her contact information. “There you go, Romeo. Feel free to text me whenever.”
“I have a name you know.”
“I know, Dick. But if you get to make cheesy pickup lines, I get to call you Romeo.”
“That’s fair. You know, I mocha me crazy.”
“And I’ve somehow, despite the puns, come to like you a latte.”
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