#he's a bit of a freak your honor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tojisbbg · 4 months ago

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𝙢𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚?

❝fuck me like you mad at me, baby; i need a freak to drive me crazy!❞

♡ sae itoshi ♡

wc: 14.5k

a/n: i love my nonchalant princess sm. the storyline is a bit long 'cause i got carried away lmao. but trust the process guys, it's good i promise ;)

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: sae itoshi x fem!reader, reader plays for blue lock (yes, what a queen!), eventual smut, sae is filthy lol, all acts are consensual, disclaimer: i have no knowledge on soccer or how the games work in general lmfao, porn with plot, not edited.

---

jealousy has never been a pretty look, nor has the toxic radiation of arrogance.

it's funny how men can be threatened to such miniscule things, afraid that it'll bruise their strikingly huge egos; bigger than their dicks!

yes, the world is unfair, and sadly women will never be seen as equals. unfortunately, we live in a time where what's in our pants determines our self-worth like some kind of auctioned price tag.

but, you weren't about to label yourself with a price tag stamped on you by a man.

and what better way to do that than being annoyingly damn good at something that was created for men.

the way soccer has deeply nestled itself in your veins was something that most definitely wasn't on your bingo card. you grew up in a small town where people were familiar with each other, being able to tell apart who was a neighbor and who was a stranger.

your dream was to graduate high school with honors and attend a prestigious university in a foreign country; following your passion of becoming an aspiring cardiologist.

but, of course, the criteria list was as big as your ambition. you were required to do a bunch of stuff, such as volunteering for community service, internships, maintaining your grades, and most importantly.... play a sport?!

if there's one thing you absolutely hated in the world, it would have to be playing sports. you weren't athletic at all and you felt limited because where you lived barely had any inclusivity for female players.

but, the university admissions office wanted an all-rounded student, so, you had no choice.

you begged your school's boys soccer coach to let you play. the old man was a tough cookie, hard to crack, but with enough pestering; he gave in. more so, he thought you'd be the one to give up and not show up on the second practice session.

but, to his surprise, you held your ground. in no time, your body went through a series of changes. you became more toned and lean, your strength and stamina gradually increased as well.

the guys on the team ridiculed you multiple times when you struggled to understand the rules or play strategy; but, they'd soon swallow their own words after noticing how in every game it always seemed like you had woken up as someone new.

your adaptability, stamina, improvisation and intuition resulted in you to easily climb up the ranks; replacing the team's captain who served for 2 years.

naturally, your school gained popularity for having such a strong soccer team, and you became the infamous ace card; even though you were the only female player on the team.

of course, you didn't really care about all that. after all, you were doing this in order to prepare a neat and tidy application to ship yourself somewhere else to pursue your dreams. so, you'd mindlessly played against other schools and ultimately; lead your team to victory.

win after win after win.

what you didn't expect was that a lady with short auburn hair has been eyeing from the very beginning; spectating like a creep.

your senior year of high school came by and you were a few months away from graduating. your applications have been submitted and you felt like someone freed you from the shackles of stress. you spent your eighteenth birthday with friends and family, of course, being teased by your relatives of how your body was becoming "more like a man" or whatever the hell that means.

spring had just begun and your acceptance letter has come in the mail. you eagerly opened it, practically screaming in happiness as you almost tripped down the flight of stairs to announce to your parents-

"i'm going to yale!"

you had finished your last soccer practice for the season. while you were about to head in the direction of your house, you saw a lady with short auburn hair approach you.

you tried to ignore her, maybe she was walking towards someone behind you? but, you couldn't hear anyone behind you. she politely smiled at you, almost as if she could read your mind.

"uh, can i help you?" you asked, confused.

"you're y/n, right?" she confirmed, making you cock an eyebrow.

"yes, that would be me." you answered, a bit taken back from her sudden acknowledgment of your existence.

"i've been watching you for quite some time now, and i must say, you are a fine piece of talent for the world of soccer!" she enthusiastically praised, making you look at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"uhm, thank you?....creepy." you awkwardly expressed your gratitude, while mumbling the last part. but, it seems that she very loud and clearly heard you, chuckling at your words.

"listen, i've been watching the most talented soccer players in different parts of japan to recruit. my dream is to create the best soccer team in japan that will win the world cup. so, i created the blue lock project." she passionately explained.

"nice." you blandly responded, making her stare at you like you have two heads.

"are you not getting it? i'm recruiting you to the blue lock project, y/n." she frowned, but her words were still registering in your head.

blue lock project?

world cup?

this must be some joke. so, you laughed at her face like it was one.

"i tried to put past the whole creepy stalking you did on me but this is the most absurd thing you've said so far in our short interaction. you're asking me, a woman, to play in your all-men soccer team that you're planning to perfect for the world cup? listen, lady, i think you need to go home and take a nice nap to clear your head." you scoffed, readjusting your duffel bag as you prepared to walk off, only to be halted as she grabbed your wrist.

"wait! please, just think about it! i know... i know what you're thinking and i get it. us women, we don't get these kinds of opportunities and when we do, there's always some level of competition and gender-bias. but, as a woman myself, whose ambition is to craft the perfect japanese soccer team, i want a woman to play in it. i want a woman to win the world cup! please, i'm requesting you, reconsider." she begged, making your mouth slightly drop.

you sigh heavily, looking at her with stern eyes.

"i'm sorry, but, you'll have to achieve that dream with someone else. i'm not cut out for this life, soccer isn't even my dream. besides, i'm going to america in a few months to attend university there and become a doctor in the future. i hope you can find another woman to play in your team. good luck." you offered a small apologetic smile, making her eyes glimmer with disappointment as she watched you walk away.

a few weeks had passed and you'd just graduated. your flight to america was quickly approaching, so you were busy packing. you suddenly heard a knock at your bedroom door, which cracked open to reveal your mom.

"sweetheart, someone by the name of anri teieri is looking for you." you mom informed you, making you furrow your eyebrows.

"who now? i've never heard of that name in my life." you responded, making her shrug and she ushered you to come downstairs and figure it out.

so, you followed behind her only to be horrified to see the same lady from a few weeks back.

"you again?!" you gasped, speed walking to the door.

"ah, sorry for the unannounced vis-"

"lady! this whole stalking thing is really getting out of hand! i-i mean, how did you even get my address?! god, i feel like i'm being watched like a hawk! last warning or else i'll report you next time!" you threatened, absolutely baffled. her eyes widened, quickly holding her hands up as surrender.

"please, hear me out. i'm not stalking you! i was escorted here by your coach. i... i wanted you to reconsider!" she expressed, her face displaying desperation.

"what part of what i said to you back then don't you understand? i don't have a passion for soccer." you glared, making her face turn to a frown.

"you can't be good at something if there's no passion to drive you! and you... god, you're damn amazing! your goals, your precision; it's unmatched! y/n, please, it's not only that i want you... no, i need you on my team." she persuaded, making your sigh in annoyance.

"even if i wanted to, i can't. it's too late, i already confirmed my spot at the university and my flight is this weekend." you informed her, trying to make peace.

"that's okay! i'll have my team call your university to place you on a guaranteed waitlist, your spot will still be secured. please, just play for the recruitment matches in blue lock. i promise, if you're eliminated; then you can fall back on this. we'll even pay for your tuition cost and flight expenses." she tries to negotiate and you let out a defeated grumble.

"fucking hell, fine, fine. i'll do it." you agreed, making her eyes light up.

"yes! thank you! thank you so much, y/n." she smiled brightly, digging through her purse before pulling out a small card.

"that's the address to the blue lock facility. the mock matches will be taking place this weekend. i'll see you then, y/n." she hands you the card, making you hum.

the hell did you just get into?

---

so, luck has a weird way of working out, and it turns out that you were able to make it out of the recruitment matches. you were officially on blue lock's team.

well, that happened about four months ago. so far, you're still not sure if it was worth quitting and falling back on your safety option, which was still laid on the table by anri.

"jeez, i thought that the only time a woman would've given me a hard time was after i got married." isagi teased, making you chuckle as you laid on the indoor feild.

"hope you don't get married any time soon, your future wife is gonna have a hard time in social spaces when her husband is getting cancelled every two to five business days." you smirked, making him gasp.

"y/n! i thought we were gonna move past that." he huffed, making you laugh.

"what? about the fact that you become a slur machine when you get pissy?" you egg further, making him roll his eyes before cracking a smile.

"but seriously though, those were some killer goals you made today. especially the far distance one you did, man, it got me sweating! how'd you do it?!" his freakishly big blue eyes peered at you, making you rub the back of your neck as you tried to recall that moment.

"uh... don't know, honestly. it just felt right at that moment and my legs moved on its own to score, i saw the opening and knew it was time." you tried your best to explain in order to give him the most accurate answer possible.

"so what you're saying is... you play based on intuition?" isagi's eyes widened, but, his shock only gained a mere shrug from you.

"guess so." you replied, making him let out a dry chuckle.

"fuck, you're more goated than i anticipated." his eyes glimmered with some odd sparks of a mix of inspiration but at the same time a hint of envy.

"now you're just buttering me up, if you think i'm gonna give you the charred sides of my steak today, it's not happening." you stuck your tongue out, making him let out a dramatic sigh.

"well, it was worth the try." he joked, making you playfully jab his side.

after practice and training sessions for the day ended, everyone had dinner as per usual. you sat with pretty much whoever you felt like you wanted to be around with that day. you were good friends with majority of the blue lock members, keeping a low profile and not really interested in creating unnecessary beef.

isagi wanted to be the best striker? great.

reo? awesome.

nagi? spectacular.

rin? fantastic.

you couldn't give two flying fucks about becoming the world's best striker. you were pretty much shoved into the whole situation by anri's big (creepy) puppy eyes. your friends knew about your whole recruitment process, earning you a mix of bustles of laughter along with some of them weirdly having more admiration towards you.

in short, you had no interest in becoming the best striker. it required too much thinking, too many friendship break ups, and so on.

as long as blue lock makes it to the world cup and wins, everything's peachy because anri got what she wanted from you.

dinner was over and it was still quite early for bed. you decided to go to the shared lounge space, where a big tv was installed in the middle of the room. you were bored and thought maybe you'd watch a movie or rewatch old match; whatever the hell was more interesting than being in the four walls of your shared room with nagi, yuki and rin.

you walked into the lounge area, only to be surprised by seeing all three of your roommates present.

"so now we're having group meetings without me?" you playfully snark, making yuki chuckle.

"me and nagi had a feeling you'd use your imaginary sixth eye to sense us here." he joked, making you laugh.

"they're actually my spidey senses, get it right. you guys being together always means being up to no good." you said before squishing yourself before rin and yuki, as nagi opted out to sit on the carpeted floor in front of your legs.

"yeah, we were coming up with strategies on how demolish the U-20 team." nagi lazily added onto the conversation, making you hum.

"oh, those guys. who's even on that team anyways? i was kinda asleep when ego was talking about it." you sheepishly smiled, making rin scoff.

"seriously? this game is an important debut for blue lock, and you're out here sleeping in meetings? dumbass." rin nagged, making you roll your eyes.

"jeez, sorry mr. perfect, i got tired 'kay? now stop leaving me in the dark and tell me more information about this team." you looked at the pair of teal eyes, trying to count how many under lashes he had in the meanwhile.

"it's japan's national team that's composed of the best japanese soccer players that are under the age of twenty. one them being the biggest pests in my life, itoshi sae." rin enlightened you, and you watched a slight darkened shift in his eyes as he mentioned the foreign name to you.

"itoshi sae? he shares your last name, your older brother?" you asked mindlessly, as you thought out loud.

"what do you think, smartypants?" rin deadpanned, giving you an obvious look, making you chuckle.

"sorry, i didn't wanna assume. listen, your family trauma is yours, buddy; i'm not here to mediate or play therapist, so you can be assured i won't dig further in. but, regardless, he's an opponent. so, just like everyone else, i'm gonna try my best to make sure we win." you offered an encouraging smile.

"whatever, this game is just a stepping stone for me. i'll prove to him just how good i am and make him eat his words." he spoke through gritted teeth.

after about an hour of socializing with your roommates, it was getting late and there was early morning training the following morning as per usual. so, you told your roommates to head back without you and you'd come a bit later; so you bid them goodnight.

after being alone in the lounge, you decided to do some research on this special specimen the entire blue lock facility has been bustling about; itoshi sae.

and with each click of a new article, interview or soccer match; you were horrified and mesmerized at the same time.

how can a human being be so cruel, brash, cocky... but so fluid, sharp and agile? he's worse than a criminal.

the way he shits on japanese soccer.

the way he's convinced that the best striker has yet to be born, let alone in japan.

the way he fucking plays... it's almost arousing; making adrenaline pump through your body as blood rushes all around your blood vessels.

what is this feeling?

this new profound inspiration, ambition and drive you're feeling?

god, why did you wanna suddenly have itoshi sae kneeling in front of you on the damn feild?!

you turned off the tv and decided to call it a night. while you were walking through the hallway in the direction of your room, you see a sleepy rin walking towards you.

"rin." you call out, making him look at you with half-lidded eyes.

"huh? jeez, you still didn't sleep? whatever, i don't have time for your jokes, i gotta piss real bad." rin tried to cut the conversation short, but you grabbed his wrist to stop him from leaving.

"wait. you need to hear me, rin. i don't know if you consider me as a friend or foe, not that i care, but i want you to know that i share the same vision as you." you looked at him with determined eyes, making him cock an eyebrow.

"the hell are you talking about, y/n?" he asked, confused.

"i don't know what kind of gold your brother is hiding that people want so bad. everyone is meat riding him, but i just don’t get it. yes, he has exceptional skills. but, in my eyes, he's just another nuisance of a midfielder who likes to show off." you sprinkled in some insults, but for some reason, that seemed to bother rin a little.

"listen, i hate that prick, but don't water down his play. he played in spain’s youth team and he’s competed against national teams. he’s not just any midfielder, he’s a prodigy, whether i like to admit it or not." rin weirdly defended (?) his brother.

"so he’s got a taste that soccer exists outside of japan, big deal. he’ll be tasting my ass when i crush him during the game." you smirked, making his eyes widen.

"do you know how much weight your words need to have to make a claim like that? you're so naive. anyone who wants to crush itoshi sae has to become the world's best striker; and that's my goal." he glared.

"rin, i don't need to become the world's best striker to crush your brother; 'cause i already am." you bodly stated, not even understanding yourself and where this confidence came from. but, rin looked rather shocked before an unknowing grin tugged on his lips.

without a doubt, talent runs in the itoshi family. both rin and sae possess a strong talent for soccer. although rin knows that he hasn’t leveled with sae yet, he was still very strong.

that was until you came along.

you waltzed your way onto the field, as if it was your personal ballroom floor and you danced with the players. you predicted everyone’s moves, while yours remained a mystery.

rin could still remember how you painfully defeated him in one of the selections and to rub it in his face, you selected him on your team, basically calling him your bitch in other words.

ouch.

people underestimated your abilities because you were a woman, but many people in this same facility didn’t even have an ounce of your skill.

(cough igaguri cough)

"i see, so this is your ego. i'll be looking forward to your play, y/n, and then we'll see if you can live up to your words or eat them." rin darkly chuckled, making you hum.

"night night, rin." you waved at him, deciding to release him from your shackles so he could go pee.

"yeah, yeah, g'night." he half-waved back, before you both went opposite directions.

suddenly, soccer became something that now intoxicated your mind.

---

"y/n!" you heard the familiar high-pitched voice, finishing putting on your jersey shirt as you turned around.

"oh, anri." you gave her a small wave, watching her approach you.

"ready for the game? i know maybe you didn't expect to come this far, but trust me, i envisioned this for you. listen, i know my desires of having you in the blue lock project was selfish of me, but you truly are a precious gem to us." anri spoke with a gentle voice, her words very powerful and encouraging.

of course, the auburn haired woman was expecting some kind of snarky remark or maybe even your eyes rolling at her; your typical responses because you didn't care much about the blue lock project or soccer to begin with.

what she didn't expect was for you to crack a smile, making her eyes widen.

"y'know, at times, i felt like purposely failing the training stages or mock matches; just so i could get out of here through elimination. but, for some odd reason, i couldn't. failure is not a part of my nature, anri. yes, i was forced into this, but it's 'cause i'm damn good at what i do. i was brought here with no internal purpose or passion for soccer, but, things changed over night. quite literally." you decided to give her a slice of your heart to offer some of your true emotions.

"this is different, y/n." her expression and tone was nothing less than pure shock.

"i found meaning in my place here at blue lock. i want to play the kind of soccer that doesn't just make me win, but, makes my blood course through my veins in excitement. i want to feel alive when playing it. now, i found someone who just might let me have that." you grin at her, brushing your hair. anri gave you a puzzled look, trying to think of who could possibly change your heart like this.

"who?" she asked, curiosity pouring out of her eyes.

"itoshi sae." you smirk.

---

“so hungry- ow! ow! ow!” you screamed in pain, trying to kick away nagi, who was helping you stretch out your legs before the game. the match would start in about tenish minutes. you were sprawled on the ground, both of your legs being parted into a split to help your muscles stretch.

“almost done, stop being such a hassle.” nagi smacked your calves, making you glare at him as you continued to whine and fuss from the burn traveling all over your legs. thankfully, the torture was soon over.

“alright you dusted lumps of talent, today’s match could be life changing for all of you if victory is brought onto blue lock. get into your positions and good luck to you all.” ego spoke and the doors opened, everyone walking outside into the large stadium.

you heard people cheering at the top of their lungs, looking around to see the majority wearing and holding merch that branded itoshi sae’s name. you snorted in disbelief, rolling your eyes.

“ass kissers.” you mumbled to yourself before continuing to walk to your place. you waited for the other team to come out and just on cue, they walked in. you quietely observed each one of them as you familiarized yourself with their traits.

the person whom you’ve been waiting for finally arrived onto your dance floor, u-20′s number ten, itoshi sae. he felt your intense stare on him, turning his eyes to now look right back at you. you gave him a smirk before waving your hand at him, earning a cocked eyebrow from him as he just rolled his eyes at you before looking away.

“how rude.” you huffed to yourself and before you knew it, the game began.

you ran to the center where the ball was freely rolling and even though a bunch of other players were running like a herd of buffalos at the ball, you knew they couldn’t get it.

“you see the ball? well, now you don’t!” you giggled as you placed your foot in front of the ball before turning your feet, making the ball rotate as you kicked it backwards.

as the ball was now running in the opposite direction, you swiftly jumped over aiku’s feet, running to chase the ball as your feet was bumping with it. you happily hummed, your eyes still aware of your surroundings as you noticed sendou and aiku now at your sides.

“hey, pretty lady! that wasn’t very nice of you.” you look over at aiku who was coming towards you, extending his annoying long legs to overpower your movements.

"bite me, snake." you smirked before noticing isagi at your peripheral vision, kicking the ball right between sendou's legs to pass it to your friend.

you panted, trying to catch your breath as you watched isagi getting in position as he tried to make the direct shot, only for it to be struck down. your eyes widened as you saw the player with blonde hair and pink tips use his head to stop the goal from going in.

you read his name on his shirt, shidou.

“what the hell.” you furrowed your eyebrows, running towards the previous formation as shidou passed the ball to the auburn haired male. sae surpressed isagi and chigiri’s speed and then with one quick motion, the ball hit the net.

“that fucking blonde cockroach.” you heard rin swear under his breath, sweat drizzling down the sides of his face.

this was going to be interesting.

the match continued on and u-20 was in the lead. your legs practically felt like jelly, looking at the score board with read 3-3. majority of the goals were made by shidou or sae on the u-20 team, they were devouring everyone and anything in their way.

as for blue lock, the first goal was made nagi, followed by barou and then isagi. both teams were now tied and slowly the 90 minute clock was running out; as there was only 20 minutes left.

this was the last chance, within those 20 minutes, a goal will be made and that team will take home victory.

fuck, you felt like throwing up.

you were getting pissed off, mainly because of the fact that the only person holding everyone back was rin. you knew that there was some kind of drama going on between the itoshi brothers, but rin wasn’t playing in the right state of mind.

“rin, pass!” you yelled, watching him go berserk as he had his tongue out and was drooling. rin looked at you with a clouded look before snickering.

“out of my fucking way, dumbass.” he shoved you away, rejecting to pass the ball to you when you were at a perfect range to shoot. you saw that his main goal was to go head on head with his brother, but that was ultimately a bad idea because sae was protected by shidou as back up.

“y/n! you okay?” you heard reo ask as he ran besides you.

“yeah, i’m fine. but, i don’t think rin is.” you breathed out, trying to catch up to rin who was running in full spped. suddenly, in an attempt to go around shidou, he accidentally kicked his leg when the both of them tried to kick the ball.

“fuck.” you cursed, hearing the whistle blow.

“itoshi rin, yellow card.”

“idiot.” you murmured under your breath as you took this as a chance to steal the ball from rin. you were now in the middle of the feild and the goal was still in a pretty far distance for you to shoot.

suddenly, you felt an arm over your chest in an attempt to block and delay your movement. you looked over to your side and your heart jumped in your chest as you met with the striking teal orbs of the star of the show; the player you've been looking forward to play against so much that you couldn't get a wink of sleep.

itoshi sae.

“my, my! didn’t your mommy teach you not to touch a woman without her permission? you’re naughty, sae.” you teased, trying your best to keep your leg ahead of his. you knew that sae’s main skill was his sharp shooting range and that if he somehow got control over the ball right now, it’d be game over.

you watched over his moves through his game recordings numerous amount of times to predict his play style.

shamelessly, your eyes watched how his meaty and juicy thighs flexed while he ran. you couldn't help the feeling of your stomach tightening, as having such a handsome guy all up on you made your panties twist.

“shut it, you little minx.” sae grumbled, and just as you felt his legs coming to swing faster, you used your right foot to kick the ball to the side.

“you-” he looked at you with wide eyes, only to receive a cocky smile.

“see ya!” you finally able to escape him as your main concern was now to get past shidou who was guarding your shooting point.

"so we meet again, girl. blue lock's ace, a woman, who's been taking the soccer world by storm." you heard shidou cackle as he hovered side to side. you chuckled, hitting him with fast dribbles.

“yeah and you’re about to find out why.” you grinned, kicking the ball directly upwards before leaping into the air, lightly swinging your feet at a calculated angle with a gentle impact. it was enough to make the ball fly past his shoulder, and you quickly ran around the distracted male to catch up with the ball.

the hardest obstacle was down.

"shit, you're cool as fuck, girl." shidou muttered under his breath, still in disbelief from the move you just pulled to move past his block.

in the distance, sae watched you like a hawk, amazed by your game tactic.

it almost seemed as if you weren’t human as no one in this entire universe could’ve predicted you to do that.

not even the prodigy himself.

there was no way in hell any player could've passed that block with shidou and sendou cornering you.

damn, you literally defied the laws of physics.

you were still at a pretty far range to shoot, but, the goal was swarming with dangerous players who were firm to not let you have that opening.

"ah, how annoying." you sighed.

of course, your moves annoyed sae as he was now lunging towards you, trying to stop you from advancing any further. the auburn haired male was pissed, no, beyond pissed as he ran besides you.

“can’t get enough of me? you get me so excited, sae!” you exclaimed, watching him frown as he struggled to predict when the ball was going to move left or right based on your footwork.

"just what are you, woman?! i've never met a player like you!" sae angrily spoke, panting while he tried to take control over the ball. you smirked, feeling like your heart was about to combust just from being acknowledged by him.

"are you falling in love with me?" you asked with a cheeky smirk.

"fucking brat." he scoffed.

“i’ll call this goal, ‘if i score, then sae gets to fuck this hole’, ‘kay?” you taunted and then what happened next was beyond shocking.

you were in no position to shoot and strike a goal, the range was still far and the goal was blocked. shidou was advancing and you were slowly getting cornered with sae on your side and sendou advancing towards your other side.

but, it felt right.

no, no, it is right. this was the perfect timing, the perfect position-

the perfect moment to score a goal.

if you can't find an opening on the field, look above and create your own, that's your play style.

you diagonally cut through his run, making the tip of your feet scoop the ball as you kicked it in the air. another jump and now you were in the air, as you spun and swerved your body to the left, giving the ball a powerful kick.

your eyes watched the ball zoom past the goal keeper’s head, hitting the net as you came back down on the ground. sae blinked dumbfoundedly at you, trying to process what the hell just happened.

the crowd roared with cheers.

you collapsed on the ground, breathing heavy as the whistle blew, time was up and blue lock scored the winning goal thanks to you. before you could even register your win, you were swooped off the ground by your teammates as they huddled while lifting you in the air, a tsunami of praises and congratulations was showered on you.

“hm, wait. i’ll be back.” you patted nagi’s shoulder to usher him to put you down, as he carefully placed you back on the ground.

you walked over to u-20′s players who were sitting on the grassy field, faces expressing scowls and sadness from their bitter defeat. yet, you saw sae standing unbothered as shidou was blabbering to him about some random nonsense, before noticing you approaching them.

“oh, would you look at who came to pay us a visit.” shidou sneered, giving you narrowed eyes as you shrugged.

“i'm not interested in you, blondie.” you snapped at him, making him slightly irritated by how you spoke to him.

sae didn’t want to become involved with this little feud you had going on with shidou, silently watching you both fuss and fight over today’s match. he had to admit, watching you play had riled him up.

both sexually and mentally.

the announcers were urgently instructing all players to evacuate the field as the game has been over since fifteen minutes ago. you heard your team members call your name, so you decided not to waste more time.

"before i forget to keep my promise that i made with rin.” you remembered, your lips curling upwards cheekily. you placed your index and middle finger on sae’s lips as if you were hushing him, before bringing those two fingers to tap your butt cheek.

“choo~” you smooched the air, watching sae’s jaw drop. shidou could slowly feel his blood boil and swore that if you weren’t a woman, then he would've long broke out into a fist fight with you.

"bye-bye." you waved at sae before running the opposite direction to where your friends were standing.

---

you entered the backstage of the stadium for only player entry. you were excited to finally get out of your uniform and take a cold shower after such an intense game. curious eyes were scanning for blue lock's locker room as you hummed a little tune, until someone grabbed your arm and pulled you into some room.

“what the f-” you yelped, only to have your words be muffled as the person clamped their hand over your mouth. you looked up and saw that it was sae, looking down at you with sharp teal eyes.

“well, well, well. just the person i've been waiting for.” he snarked, his voice sending chills down your spine. you realized that you were in u-20's locker room with him. your hands quickly came up to peel his hand off of your mouth.

“the hell is wrong with you? someone might come inside and get the wrong idea.” you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to turn your heels and leave the bathroom. however, with one swift motion, you were now pinned against the door as sae caged you between his arms.

"you've been annoying the shit out of me ever since i've known about your existence. i've watched the recorded tapes of your mock games at blue lock and though the other players never stood out to me... you were always the odd one out. the way you'd play on the field like you had no fucking clue the hell you were doing but at the same time; it felt like you outsmarted everyone. i can't believe i fell into that trap today even after analyzing you to the core." he bitterly spat out, making you look at him with bored eyes.

"listen, mr. prodigy, i get it that this might be your first loss; but taking it out on me won't change the scores." you nonchalantly replied, somehow making his skin burn in anger even more.

"you’ve got some real talent, I’m not gonna deny that. but your little hat-tricks are a bit immature, aren’t they?” he questioned, making you shrug.

"as long as my team's winning, i don't care." you answered, making him chuckle, the corner of his lips lifting up slightly at your bold proclamation.

"hah! that’s a dangerous mindset. arrogance isn’t always a good look for a player. but i gotta admit, it fits you.” sae sneered, a smirk etched on his lips.

"confidence not arrogance, don't get it twisted." you corrected him, shooting a glare at him.

“oh, really? confidence, hm? or maybe you’re just in denial about being a little arrogant?” he continued to taunt you, making you darkly chuckle.

"go back to school and learn the difference, sae. i can tell you're lacking up here since you went to spain so early. poor you." you pouted, jabbing at his temple.

"yeah? let's talk about you, miss. yale. you wanted to become a doctor, no? only to end up as ego's puppet for blue lock. poor you." sae mocked your words, his insult made your jaw lock.

"how the fuck do you know that?" you said through gritted teeth, his face glimmering with amusement.

"i have a good sense of every player's background to know how much of a pain in my ass they're gonna be during a game." he cockily remarked, making you roll your eyes.

"oh please, you're like the soccer princess, always getting his way. you stupid dumb brat, always wanting stuff and getting it 'cause you're a lump of talent who went international as a youth. you whisked away shidou from our team, who's gonna be your next BL victim?" you scoffed, shoving him off of you to place some distance between you two.

"excuse me? that’s a bit rich coming from you. i do have talent, yes, but i’ve worked hard for it. you don’t know what i had to go through to get where i am now, so don’t act like you know everything about me." sae’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by a look of annoyance at your harsh words.

"uh-huh. so, you cried to your management that you wouldn't play in u-20 against BL unless you could pick whichever BL player you want to join you? how lame. you think you're the best?" you asked, voice laced with irritation from how much he was pissing you off.

"i didn’t ‘cry to my management’, they just know what i have to offer. and yes, i do think i’m the best. i’ve proven it on the field time after time.” he stepped closer to you, now hovering above you with his annoyingly tall height.

damn the itoshi brothers for inheriting such good genes.

"i heard it with my own ears. when ego and your managers were having that meeting, i happened to pass by the conference room. you're quite the brat. aren't you supposed to be the older itoshi?" you poked fun at him, giggling a little at the end.

"you… you eavesdropped on the meeting? and you’re still throwing a fit? how immature can you be? it was a strategic decision and you know it. picking the right players to my advantage is part of the game. you’re just mad that i chose shidou.” sae scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"mad? hah! don't make me laugh. you could have the pink tip blonde freak for all i care! listen, itoshi, i could win with or without shidou being on my team, got it? i'm damn fucking good at what i do, 'cause if i wasn't, then my ass would've been halfway across the globe by now. i'm the muse to this whole orchestra out of all you mediocre artists. strategic decision? seems more like a cry for help. what are you? five? picking and trading toys? please, give me a break. i'd rather quit soccer than have you make me your bitch." you angrily spewed at him, making his eyes narrow at your words.

sae is stunned into silence for a moment, taken aback by your fierce and fiery declaration. he takes a moment to process your words, before responding with a sharp edge to his voice.

"you got an awfully talkative mouth, huh? ever thought of putting that mouth to some good use than spewing all this bullshit?" he harshly squished your cheeks together with his hand, making you wince a little.

"sorry that i can't match your brattiness, it's not in my nature to act like a lukewarm spoiled brat." your words were slightly muffled, but it rang clear in his ears, especially the familiar word you picked up most likely from his younger brother.

"lukewarm, hm? did my shit of a little brother teach you that? you seem to be close to him, having the nerve to approach me after the game and pull that little stunt of yours to keep the so-called promise you made to him. what kinda promise? that you'd make me kiss your ass?" sae cocked an eyebrow, peering down at you as you couldn't help but count his under lashes.

"it was just a stupid joke, you don't have to act like i shoved the damn soccer ball up your ass." you rolled your eyes, making him let out a dry chuckle.

"nah, it's not that. it's just... you seem to be a woman of your words; but you're forgetting the promise you made to me." he smirked at you, his eyes darkening with lust.

"what?" your eyebrows furrowed in confusion momentarily.

you tried to recall what you even said to him. when you’re on the field, you tend to spew out random shit from your mind and mouth, not thinking twice about it.

“you scored the winning goal, didn’t you?” sae helped you remember, his hands coming down to wrap around your waist before he pressed himself on you.

“i’ll call this goal ‘if i score, then sae gets to fuck this hole’, ‘kay?”

your words rang in your mind loud and clear, your eyes widening in shock as you realized what you’ve done. sae noticed you expression, his smirk widening as he knew that you were all bark and no bite.

but, that’s what made you seem more alluring to him.

“whimping out, sweetheart?” he said, a fake pout forming on his lips. what he didn’t expect is your arms wrapping around his neck before harshly pulling him towards your face. you crashed your lips on him, roughly kissing the soft-pillow like flesh.

“you said it, i’m a woman of my words, sae. besides, not everyone gets the chance to fuck the world’s best striker, y'know. so, you’re welcome.” you grinned against his lips before playfully biting down on his lower lip.

"you vixen." he whispered against your lips, warm breath fanning over yours before he locked you in another searing kiss. your fingers weaved through his soft auburn hair, following the rhythm of his lips. sae's hand was still cupping your jaw, keeping you in place as he tilted his face slightly to the side, the new angle allowing him to kiss you deeper.

you felt his thigh intrude between your legs, spreading you open as he rubbed his muscular quad against your clothed pussy. the small friction alone was providing enough stimulation to your throbbing clit that made you gasp a small moan; making him smirk against your lips before cheekily using the provided entrance to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

you felt the wet muscle gently poking yours occasionally before slowly wrapping around your tongue. the wet sounds of your mixed salivas and mingling tongues followed by the smooch noise echoed throughout the empty locker room; making your pussy drip with arousal.

your head was spinning, both from sae's intoxicating cologne along with the heated kiss. your face was flushed and your brain was practically turned into mush.

you sucked on his bottom lip before giving it a gentle nibble. the both of you soon pulled away, breathing heavy from the lack of oxygen due to the breath-taking makeout session you just had; a string of saliva connecting the both of your lips.

fuck, he looked so sexy like this.

sae's hair was dishevealed, cheeks tinted with a slight pink, teal eyes half-liddedly staring at yours like a sly siren and his lips plump from the intense kissing.

he leaned forwards, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your jawline before moving down to your neck. your mouth was slightly agape, soft whimpers ocassionally slipping out of your lips as you felt him kiss and lick the soft flesh of your neck. he gently bit down before suckling the area, making your breath hitch.

"h-hey! you're gonna leave a mark." you stuttered, but sae couldn't find it in him to care. in fact, the thought of him marking you up everywhere sent blood straight to his cock; making him impossibly even harder than he already was.

"so? i don't see the problem. what if i want all the other players to know i claimed you as mine?" he spoke in a low tone, almost as soft and alluring as a whisper. you could feel him rub the bridge of his nose against your neck; sending goosebumps all over your body.

"i don't belong to anyone." you meekly responded, though you tried to sound as stern as possible; obviously failing to do so. sae let out a dry chuckle, finding your answer a bit amusing.

"oh really? i'm hurt. you pulled out so many cool tricks from your sleeve during the game, flirted with me on the field, saying lewd things to me before scoring, promised my little brother to have me kiss your ass... all of that just for me to notice you, no?" he teased, his hands going south as he traced the outline of your hips before harshly pushing them down, making you grind against his thigh.

"f-fuck." you moaned, feeling yourself getting wetter by his actions. however, sae wasn't complaining, seeing how your facial expressions were twisting with pleasure made his mind fog up with lust.

"bet you were thinking about this while playing on the field. imagining all sort of naughty things you'd want me to do to you, hm? god, never would've expected blue lock's ace to be... such a slut." he snickered, his hands moving behinds to give your ass a firm squeeze followed by a harsh spank; making you yelp.

"i wasn't!" you tried to defend yourself, finding a convincing voice by shooing away your horny thoughts.

"you sure about that, princess?" sae grins, his hand cupping your clothed pussy before using his slender fingers to rub against your slit. he could feel your wetness, making him scoff.

"you're dripping and still have the nerve to lie to my face? there's two things i hate in this world. number one is losing and the second thing is liars; two things which you already violated. i should punish you, no?" he darkly chuckled, before pulling you back into a mind-blowing kiss.

"wha.." you tried to comprehend what his words meant, but it seemed that he preferred to show you.

"strip." sae mumbled under his breath, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. you swallowed harshly, trying to clear your head and maybe push him away.

you knew this was wrong!

it was one thing teasing and riling each other up on the field, but fucking your enemy? what would your team members think if they ever found out?

holy shit, what would rin think?!

but, fuck, it felt so right.

you couldn't deny the fact that sae made you feel so hot and bothered, both on and off the field. and the way he was towering over you with his staggering height and angelic yet demanding voice.

you were under his spell; unable to resist anymore... not that you were in the first place.

you grabbed the hem of your jersey before peeling it off of your body, a small sheen of sweat covering your body made your skin glisten under the dim lights of the air-conditioned locker room. you threw your shirt to the side before sliding off your shorts; the last article of uniform meeting the same fate as your jersey on the floor.

you now stood exposed in your half-naked glory; in a pair of baby blue laced panties with a matching bra to go with it. sae's eyes followed your movements with striking anticipation, trained on your body as he shamelessly drank in the sight of your beauty.

you were perfect in every shape and form.

your body was lean and fit, lacking muscle mass unlike other players; but you were toned. his eyes focused on how your tits sat so prettily within the cups of your bra, making his hands itch to hold them instead. his eyes trailed down, being able to see your beautiful plump round ass even from the side; he wanted to touch the soft bare flesh so bad.

after all, it was his biggest fetish.

sae took slow strides towards you, predatory eyes never leaving your body as he hovered above you. he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes while his other hand danced along your spine; pulling you close to him.

you smelled so feminine and sweet; like a subtle peach scent.

"you have no idea what you do to me and it's driving me insane because i wanna ruin you." he confessed, making you give him a sly smirk.

"then what's stopping you?" you boldly replied, and it seemed as if the gears in his brain stopped working.

"damn right." without another word, he grabbed the back of your thighs and swiftly lifted you up in his arms. you wrapped your legs around his waist, arms lacing around his neck as you kissed the side of his neck and peppered his face with soft kisses. he chuckled, giving your ass a light spank while walking over to the bench, sitting down while you straddled his lap.

you noticed he was still fully clothed, making you pout. he cocked an eyebrow in confusion at your expression.

"why am i the only one naked? take off your clothes too." you huffed out, making him laugh.

"how rude of me. why don't you take the honors of stripping me then, princess." he rubbed the palm of his hand along your sides, making a shiver run down your spine.

you nod obediently, you hand reaching down with fingers hooking under the hem of his jersey. you lifted the article of clothing above his head, revealing more and more of his extremely toned and muscular body with each heightened inch of the fabric. you threw away the shirt to the side, eager hands now touching the soft flesh of his bare chest. your eyes shamelessly wandered, noticing how defined his abs were, his pecs looked so juicy and plump, broad shoulders and his biceps were so fucking thick it made you wonder how it'd feel for them to lock you in a headlock.

you scooted off his lap, standing up before grabbing his wrist to pull him off the bench and follow your steps. you grabbed the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down; now leaving him in his calvin klein boxers; your eyes going down and noticing the prominent bulge inbetween his thick muscular thighs.

fuck, you just knew he was long and thick from how big the bulge was.

your mouth was salivating, wanting... no, needing a taste of him. you were about to drop down to your knees, only to be halted by sae as he grabbed your hands.

"not yet. bad girls don't deserve my cock in their mouth without paying for their punishment first." sae grinned, pulling you back on the bench as he sat down.

"bend over." he blurted, patting his thigh. your eyes widened, wondering just what was up his sleeve.

you gulped, crawling over his lap as you used the palm of your hands to support you, as you were now bent over his thighs. his palm gently caressed the dome of your ass, you shuddered as you felt his feather-like touches.

"what a beautiful ass you have, darling." he lewdly complimented, making your knees weak as your panties dampened from his words.

"t-thanks.." you squealed when you felt a tight slap on your cheek, making you jolt. sae smirked at your reaction, squeezing the abused flesh afterwards.

"i knew you were gonna be an interesting player, just by the shape of this pretty little ass of yours." sae spoke in a seductive tone, making you clear your throat as you looked back at him.

"seems more like an excuse for you to be a pervert." you snarked, earning another harsh spank on your ass cheek; making you wince.

"careful with that mouth of yours, princess. pervert or not, yours is hard to miss when you're flaunting it to me." he scoffed, groping the supple fat in his palms.

"now, let's see how much you really know about me." sae smirks before leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your ass; making you gasp at the soft gesture.

"huh?" you breathed out.

"what's the number on my jersey?" he suddenly questioned, making you give him a puzzled look.

"10." you responded, making him smile.

"good, that's exactly how many times i'm gonna spank this sweet ass of yours. so, better keep count in case i accidentally miscount." sae sadistically smirked at you, playfully biting your ass cheek before giving it a wet smooch; making you tremble and his ministrations didn't even start.

you were facing away from him, heart pounding in your chest and then came the first impact.

smack!

it was a tight spank, making your body jolt as the pain spread into a sadistic pleasure across your body.

"one." you muttered, swallowing down a moan.

"keep hiding your moans and i'll double it." he threatened, making your eyes widen as you shook your head.

then came the second slap, making your thighs clench as the impact sent shock-waves right between your legs. you whimpered in pain and pleasure, closing your eyes as your knees shook beneath you. god, you were aching for him to touch you, even if it meant this.

"t-two." you breathed out.

"good." sae teasingly praised, rubbing his palm on the now warm surface of your ass cheek, making you shake.

but, it didn't last long until the third spank came down on you.

then the fourth... fifth... sixth... seventh... eighth... ninth...

each slap getting slightly louder and harder, making you moan like a bitch in heat as your skin tingled from the harsh impact. you were heaving, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to muster the strength to keep yourself lifted and not collapse on his thighs.

"last one, gotta make it count, right?" you could feel him sadistically smirk, patting the bruised flesh.

sae slapped your ass once more, making you gasp as you felt him squeeze the supple fat of your cheek right afterwards before giving it a few gentle spanks all around; making you cry out.

"ten!" you cried, looking back at him with a dazed look, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

sae took a moment to drink in the sight in front of him. your back arched, ass in his face as the bruised red-plump flesh was warm against the palm of his hand, your begging face and disheaveled state; it made him wanna toy around with you even more.

"what a good girl you are, y/n." he peppered feather like kisses on your ass, making you bite your lips as you tried to contain yourself.

"please.. please, stop teasing. i-i can't anymore." you embarrassingly begged him, making him grin.

"you can't? how unfortunate. i guess we should stop then." sae suddenly proclaimed, shrugging as he pulled you up to sit on the bench, the cold material of the hard wood making contact with your warm spanked ass made you wince as it stung. but, you were quick to wrap your hand around his bicep, stopping him.

"n-no! that's not what i meant." you licked your lips, crawling back on his lap as you kissed his jaw.

"then tell me what you want, princess." he whispered in your ear, playfully biting your earlobe, sending chills all over your body.

"touch me... i want you to touch me, sae. i need you so bad." you cupped his face, looking into his glimmering teal eyes. it was a bad habit, but you couldn't help but count his damn under lashes.

"yeah? want me to play with that naughty pussy of yours, hm? bet she's dripping for me." he lewdly spoke, making you nod as your brain was no longer in your head but your pussy.

"m-mhm, so wet for you, sae. need you to touch it, pretty please?" you kissed his neck, before giving it a gentle bite followed by a teasing kitten lick.

"okay, since you asked so nicely, cariño." sae gave you a boyish smile, the spanish term of endearment slipping off his tongue so seductively.

he placed his hands on the sides of your waist, gently turning you around so that your back was against his chest. sae leaned down, kissing down your neck till he reached your collarbone, licking your skin before biting down gently.

you gasped, your hand going behind his head to find purchase in his hair. his hands came up, roughly pushing the cups of your bra down, making your tits spill out. his eyes widened, mouth salivating at the site of your perky nipples swelling from being neglected.

"you're driving me insane." sae cursed under his breath, his hands now cupping your tits as he gave them both a gentle squeeze. you moaned from the sudden fondling, breathing becoming irregular.

he rolled your buds between his index and thumb, giving them both a slight pinch; making you swallow hard. you squirmed in his hold, getting a bit antsy.

"patience." he warned, making you whine.

sae's slender fingers moved down, ghosting along your hips before hooking under the waistband of your panties. with one swift motion, he pulled the laced fabric down your legs, lightly throwing them to the side.

your breath hitched at the sudden exposure, cold air hitting you right between your legs, making you automatically clench your thighs together. however, your actions displeased the auburn haired male, making him slap your thigh.

"you want me to touch you or no? spead your legs, girl." sae commanded, making you shyly widen the gap, but not fast enough as his patience was wearing thin.

he opened his legs a little wider, forcing your own to follow in suit as your legs were drapped over his. a satisfied smirk ghosted on his lips as he peered down.

"spread your lips open, cariño, let me see her." sae took your hand, guiding it to your wet cunt.

you followed his order, using your index and middle finger to spread your pussy open, making him shamelessly look at the mess between your legs. your wetness was coating your slit, webbing on your sopping folds as he could see your swollen clit peaking out.

"hmm... beautiful, such a pretty pussy. give her a little spank." he kissed the side of your head, your eyes widening at his request.

"huh?" you stammered, making him glare at you.

"go on, spank her. 'cause if i do it, then it won't stop at one." sae threatened, making you swallow the lump in your throat. your hand shakily hovered above your dripping cunt before giving it a wet slap, making you jolt from the impact, a moan escaping your throat.

"another one." he egged further, and you followed.

"ngh, sae." you slurred out his name, leaning against his chest as your heart raced.

his hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head to the side to give him access to your lips. sae crashed his lips onto yours, knocking the wind from your lungs. his free hand trailed downwards, grazing against your hand that was inbetween your thighs.

sae replaced your fingers with his, the pad of his index finger gently caressing your clit. you moaned in his mouth, feeling his finger run up and down your wet slit. he began to rub your clit at a leisurely pace, making your eyes roll back from the stimulation.

he was so good at multitasking, ensuring that his lips continued to mold onto yours; tongues dancing in a fierce battle. he sucked and licked your lips, not giving you time to breathe.

without warning, you felt the tip of his finger brushing against your hole. you gasped, feeling it protrude in the tight opening.

"s-sae!" you moaned out his name, feeling him thrust his finger in, your warm wet walls clamping down on his digit.

"shit, you're so tight. how you gonna fit the real deal, princess?" he chuckled, thrusting his finger back and forth to loosen you up before adding a second one.

you didn't really have a long history of sexual partners, you weren't a virgin, but your experience in sex was still pretty lowly average. of course, you'd masturbate and get yourself off.

but, you never really had the chance to do it after entering blue lock because privacy was very limited when you're sharing rooms and bathrooms with other players.

sae scissored his fingers in and out, your slippery walls making it a little easier for him to glide his digits inside. the room was filled with the wet sounds of him fucking his fingers into your hole; your legs trembling and you breathed heavily while moaning his name.

"sae! f-fuck, oh my god... hnghh-" you felt his pace increase, his free hand massaging your tits, pinching the neglected pebble.

the whole scene looked like something straight out of a porno.

you're spread out on his lap, his hand inbetween your thighs as three of his fingers were working their way fucking in and out of your messy whole, your juices leaking out onto the bench, tits splayed out while being fondled with his hand; while his lips ocassionally pulled you into sloppy kisses.

"w-wait! fuck, it's too much!" you cried out, your hand shooting down to grab at his wrist, but the pressure you applied was nothing compared to his strength.

"you can take it. come on, cariño, make a mess for me." sae encouraged, keeping the brutal pace of his fingers as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. you felt the tightening sensation in your core, face heating up as your eyes shut tight; knees growing week as you cried out in pleasure.

what both you and sae didn't expect was that you squirted everywhere.

"there we go." he praised, slowly thrusting his digits in and out now, his hand drenched in your juices which were now dripping down your thighs and onto the bench.

"god damn..." you mumbled under your breath, trying to calm down from the high. you were still dazed out, feeling the loss of contact as he pulled his finger out; wet and webbed with your cum as you looked up at him.

sae gave you a sly smirk, bringing his cum covered fingers to his lips before pushing them in his mouth, sucking your juices off. your eyes widened at his actions.

"so sweet." he commented, watching your eyes cloud with lust.

"have a taste, princess." sae's fingers cupped your wet cunt, running his fingers against your slit to get them wet again, making you wimper as he grazed against your sensitive clit. he brought his hand up to your lips, watching you open your mouth as he shoved his fingers in, pressing his digits down on your tongue while you suckled them; tasting yourself.

"you're so cute when your mouth isn't yapping nonstop. i knew we could put that mouth to some better use." he snickered from above you, making you roll your eyes and you playfully bit down on his fingers.

"heh, as expected... always so feisty." he grinned, leaning down to press a soft yet teasing kiss on your lips. you smirked into the kiss, a cheeky finger going down to hook under the waistband of his boxers, slinging it against his stomach; earning a groan from his lips.

"off." you blurted out, making him chuckle.

"eager are we?" he taunted, watching you stand up and wait for him to slip out of his boxers.

once he did, god, you weren't expecting any less.

you oggled at the sight, he was fucking hung to say the least; standing at least a good eight inches. his cock was long and thick, balls hanging heavy and his blush colored tip oozed with beads of precum. your mouth watered and without any hesitation, you dropped to your knees.

your hand was barely able to wrap around his girth, holding onto his hard cock firmly. you saw his jaw clench, shuddering under your touch as you began to slide your hands up and down his shaft. you thumbed at leaky tip, spreading the oozing precum before bringing your thumb up to your lips, licking it while looking up at the gorgeous man before you.

"fuckin' tease." sae grumbled, his hand pushing away the loose strands of hair cascading on your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a good look at your pretty face. he unclasped your bra before throwing it over to the side, hating how it was getting in the way.

a single vein ran up the underside of his cock, your tongue tracing its outline before wrapping your lips around the tip of his dick. your tongue circled around the sensitive flesh before shoving more of his length down your throat. a guttural moan escaped his mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head closer.

"fuckkkk... just like that, pretty girl." he groaned out, looking down at you bobbing up and down his hard cock. of course, he was so big that you couldn't fit all of it in your mouth. so, whatever was left behind, you made sure to have your hand do the pleasing.

sae felt like his dick was gonna burst any moment, never feeling this kind of intense pleasure before; and he's had his fair share of experience with women.

but you? no, you were different.

you knew how to push his buttons, how to rile him up, how to toy with him... fuck, you knew him.

the way you twisted your hands along the base of his shaft, fondling with his balls ocassionally, while your mouth was doing wonders. the way your wet muscle suckled and licked his tip, your throat tightening as you swallowed his dick; it drove him to the edge.

"god, you're so perfect. so good, s-shit, i'm gonna cum." sae moaned, grabbing the sides of your head as he began to thrust his hips forwards, throat fucking you. your eyes widened, grabbing onto his thighs as you tried to match his rhythm, gagging on his length as tears welled in your eyes.

"fuck, fuck, fuck! take it, shit, take it all." he breathed heavily, pushing your mouth as far as you could take him, holding you there as his cock twitched in your mouth; sticky white ropes of cum painting your throat.

you swallowed as much as you could, releasing his cock with a lewd pop, but he wasn't done cumming.

fuck, he cums so much.

sae jerked his cock on top of your face, the warm liquid coating your cheeks as you closed your eyes, some of it dripping down to the valley between your tits.

you opened your eyes with a fucked out expression, lazily smirking as you scooped some of his cum from your tits before sucking it off your finger. sae watched you with his mouth slightly open, his slightly limp cock now hardening again.

"god, you dirty fuckin' girl." he lowly chuckled, using his thumb to smear his cum on your cheek before scooping some and placing his thumb on your tongue.

"yummy." you giggled, licking his thumb.

"c'mere." sae pulled you up, tapping the underside of your thigh to usher you to jump. you followed, feeling his arms hooking under your thighs to securely hold you; your legs wrapped around his waist and arms wrapped around his neck.

you felt his dick sliding between your folds, making you whimper as he walked further inside the locker room towards where the showers were. he opened one of the stalls, stepping in before locking the door behind him.

sae turned on the water, the warm water running down both of your bodies. his hands came up to cup your face, slowly washing away your cum-stained face as his fingers gently rubbed against your skin.

"you're so pretty, princess. even when you're covered in my cum." sae smirked, making you chuckle.

"yeah?" you smiled, a soft blush creeping up to your cheeks. he hummed in response, leaning down to press soft kisses on the wet skin of your tits, before popping one of them in his mouth.

"sae.." you softly breathed out, pulling him closer as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, suckling gently while cupping your ass.

"okay, no more of these games. i need you, y/n." he confessed, releasing your nipple from his mouth before pinning you on the wall. sae lifted one of your thighs, taking a hold of his cock as he began to rub the tip of it along your slit.

"fuckkk.." you cursed, the delicious feeling on his tip brushing against your clit provided you with so much pleasurable stimulation. despite the warm water, sae could feel your slick coating his cock with every push and grind of his meaty cock between your glistening folds.

the tip of his dick poked at your entrance, making your breath hitch. sae began to slowly push the tip in, making you wince in pain as he released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

"g-god, you gotta relax, cariño. you're so damn tight." sae groaned, gently thrusting his tip in and out of your hole. you moaned against the flesh of his neck, pleasure pumping in your veins. suddenly, he pulled out completely before with one swift and hard thurst; ramming in his whole length, making you scream in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"shhh... it's okay, pretty girl. look at you taking me so well, how slutty." he reassured you in the most lewd way possible, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he began to quicken the pace of his thrusts. you could feel his cock swelling with blood inside your velvety slick walls, the single vein deliciously rubbing your insides.

"nghh, sae! f-faster, please." you begged, your mind clouded in a fucked out haze as you couldn't even form coherent sentences. however, sae was equally as consumed in pleasure as you, giving into your requests as his grip on you was firm, fucking into you at a brutal speed.

the room was filled by gasping breaths, the wet slapping noises of skin going pap! pap! pap! and of course the combined harmonization of you two horny fucks moaning.

suddenly, the locker room door flung open, followed by the noisy chatter of his teammates.

your eyes widened as you looked at sae, who had stopped his movement and had an almost copy-paste expression as you.

"huh? the shower is still going." aiku took note as footsteps drew closer to the showers.

red alarms went off in both of your heads as sae quickly lifted you in his arms, trying to erase the evidence of having another person in the stall with him.

"who's in there?" sendo asked, making sae roll his eyes.

"it's me, you half-witted monkey." sae calmly replied, rolling his eyes when he heard aiku cackle at his comment.

"no wonder why we missed you, little genius." aiku teased, making sae huff out in annoyance.

you were praying to god that they left soon because you were still quite literally impaled on sae's hard cock, clinging onto him for dear life so that your legs aren't spotted beneath the stall.

"you think you're so high and mighty, huh? mr. prodigy. but, just so you know, i've been a long-term player on this team and i've devised many plans with aiku! so have some respect." sendo snickered, his voice echoing in the locker room.

you felt sae shift, his cock rubbing against your walls from the movement making you bite down on your lower lip to contain the moan that was itching to leave your throat. he noticed, an evil smirk tugging at his lips.

"yeah? and what good was brought during today's game under your useless leadership?" sae taunted, now rocking his hips back and forth, lightly swinging you forwards as your eyes widened at his movements.

the tip of his cock kissed your sweet spot, making your eyes screw shut as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"what did you say to me, you freak?! the scores of today's game was out of our control! nobody could've predicted that weird girl's movements." sendo complained, anger projecting towards you.

"blaming your incompetence on someone else's skills is not a good look, captain's ass-kisser. maybe you should look at your own faults before dragging person b." he defended your name, continuing to thrust in you slow but hard, making you bite down on his shoulder as your nails dug in his back.

sae let out a low breathy moan, which was muffled under the sound of the pouring shower; only allowing you to hear it by your ear.

"hey, hey, stop. no more fighting, guys. what's done is done, we can't change the scores. that girl has some powerful talent, no one can deny it; and it must be true if the prodigy himself admits it. anyways, we're gonna be on the bus, so finish your shower soon." aiku mediated and soon the both of them left as their footsteps disappeared; the locker room door slamming shut.

you lifted your head and faced the older itoshi, a glare shooting at him. however, he didn't seem to be bothered as he gave you a small grin.

"you think this is funny?! your team members were literally on the other side of this stall door, sae! we could've gotten caught." you nagged, making him roll his eyes.

"relax, they didn't see anything. now, let's continue where we left off." he settled you down, his dick slipping out of you as he turned you around. your tits were now pressed against the wall, his flushes body pressed against your back as you felt him grind his cock against your ass, a cheeky hand coming down to grope the supple fat before giving it a small slap.

"p-put it in." you whined, still a bit pissed off from getting cockblocked by his stupid team members.

sae chuckled at your impatience, but decided to not tease you on it. in one fluid motion, he thrusted his cock inside your wet hole.

"hnghh.. sae.." you moaned, feeling him fondling with your tits while pressing feather light kisses on the expanse of your shoulder. his thrusts were much more sharper and faster than before as he grew desperate to chase that feeling before you both got walked-in on.

your cunt was wet and dripping onto his shaft, the sheer length of his thick cock was gliding smoothly in and out of your warm walls. sae could feel you clamp down on him, hugging his dick as he continued to fuck you at a brutal pace.

"fuckkk, feels so good." he moaned next to your ear, his hand coming up to cup your face and tilt it back, leaning down to pull you into a sloppy kiss full of tongue and the clash of teeth.

his tip grazed your g-spot, making your knees tremble as you cried out in pleasure. your core tightened, feeling his cock twitching in your pussy, indicating that he was close.

"shit, gonna cum... you want that? want me to fill you up? stuff you to the brim and make you my bitch?" sae groaned, pressing ocassional kisses on the sides of your jaw.

"yes! yes! fuck, please, make me your bitch. cum inside of me!" you begged, face contorting in pleasure as you began to see white, eyes screwed shut as you panted.

you were so close, feeling like you were gonna burst. sae's free hand came down, rubbing your clit to add onto the stimulation, making you shake.

"cum for me, cariño." he whispered as he continued to fuck into you, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing throughout the showers. a guttural moan ripped out of your throat as you creamed all over his cock, drenching his shaft in your fluids before feeling him momentarily speed up his thrusts; sending you into overstimulation. a ring of white cream forming at the base of his dick.

"s-sae! too much, oh my-" you cried out, before feeling his warm and sticky cum coating your walls, fucking it deep inside you. the sensation alone was enough to make chills run down your spine. sae held you close, his grip on your firm and tight as he held you in place, sloppily and lazily shoving his cum deeper into your wet cunt.

"fuck... god damn, you're something." he panted, swallowing hard before pulling you into a soft kiss.

yeah, scoring that goal was definitely worth it.

---

after you both cleaned up and finished actually showering, you realized that all your shit was in the locker room designated for blue lock. you sighed in annoyance as you stepped out of the stall, body wrapped in a towel as sae was still naked with only a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

"i'm so screwed. i don't even have my clothes to wear back outside." you grumbled, making him look in your direction.

"blue lock's locker room is right next door, just run there." sae suggested, making you roll your eyes.

"wow, thank you so much, genius. there's like cameras everywhere in the halls and my team members might still be there." you rolled your eyes, hearing him chuckle.

"yeah, then i guess you are screwed." he smirked, making you glare at him.

"and who's fault is that?"

"not mine."

"you pulled me in here and actually screwed me. now i'm double screwed, you horny fuck!"

"and? don't say you didn't want it as bad as i did."

"well at least i have self-control."

"right, says the one who was slobbing on my dick."

"sae!"

your face was now covered in a blush from his crude words, watching him dry his body before reaching for his clothes. you took this as an opportunity to slap his ass.

spank!

"did you just-" his jaw dropped, looking at you with wide eyes as you stood there giggling.

"serves you right." you stuck out your tongue and you saw his eyes darken as an evil smirk tugged on his lips.

"oh, so you wanna play like that, huh? seems like ten wasn't enough for you? c'mere." he began to walk closer to you, making your heart drop as you quickly clutched onto your towel and ran as fast as you could out of the locker room; faintly hearing his chuckle echoing behind you.

"fucking psycho." you breathed out in slight fear, the door slamming behind you as you walked towards blue lock's locker room. that was until-

"oh, y/n! what are you doing out here?" anri's voice rang clear in your head as she stepped out of blue lock's locker room. you began to panic, what the hell were you supposed to say?!

"o-oh, anri! what are you doing here?" you nervously laughed, making her cock an eyebrow.

"i was doing a final check and realized everyone else is on the bus except you. mind telling me what's going on?" she pointed her pen at your clearly naked form.

"o-oh, yeah, uhm. our locker room was full 'cause the guys were showering, so i decided to use u-20's since their team started loading their buses first and it was empty." you explained and just because god's timing had to be so precise; sae fucking walked out.

he noticed you getting interrogated, thinning his lips to prevent himself from laughing his ass of at you.

you noticed him from the corner of your vision, glaring at him as he snorted. anri saw him, the both of them doing a mutual bow before he left, looking back you with a smirk.

that fucking piece of sh-

"y/n?" anri called out again.

"h-huh?" you refocused yourself on her.

"then why are you still naked?" she asked.

"ah, right, i forgot to take my clothes with me." you tried to sound as convincing as possible.

"uh-huh. and i suppose those marks are from the game?" she smirked, pointing her pen at your chest and neck, heat rushing to your face.

"a-anri, i can explain! it's not what you think, i promise." you horribly lied, making her chuckle.

"right... anyways, go get changed and meet us on the bus. by the way, that was an amazing goal. blue lock couldn't have won without you. so, yeah, you deserved to treat yourself." anri winked at you, making you internally scream in embarrassment.

she was your manager for fucks sake!

"ahahah, right... i'm gonna go get dressed. see you in a bit." you quickly excused yourself to get dress.

fuck you, sae itoshi.

literally.

---

after returning back to the blue lock facility, you were drained both from the game earlier and your little session with the soccer prodigy. all the players were called in the conference hall as ego gave his motivational speeches along with announcing the international teams everyone will be assigned to.

"oh, shit. bastard munchen? that's in germany, no? pretty cool, isagi." you commented, making him chuckle.

"yeah, i'm so excited! noel noa is on that team, he's my favorite." isagi eagerly replied, making you smile.

you watched your name appear on the screen and right below you was bachira.

"oh, we're gonna be together, y/n! fc barcha in spain." bachira exclaimed as he high-fived you, happy to have a close friend go with him.

"spain? oh shit..." you gulped, realizing that you'll be seeing more than just one familiar face there.

meanwhile...

"sae! sit down, have some refreshments." sae's manager smiled, his voice dripping with money hunger as the auburn hair male rolled his eyes.

"i literally just got off my flight, i couldn't even take a fucking piss yet." he grumbled, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. the poor auburn haired male was tired and it didn't help that he had to sit inbetween the most annoying fucking people ever to exist: sendo and aiku.

unfortunately, while you both were too busy in hornyland, it completely slipped out of both his and your mind that both his clothes and your clothes were scattered on the floor.

so, in short, yeah; they both knew you two were fucking in the showers.

"hey, since when did you wear baby blue laced panties under your uniform, little genius?"

"what?"

"your shit was all over the floor along with a pair of bra and panties, dumbass. you fucked that crazy chick from blue lock, didn't you?!"

"well, you know, your contract is expiring soon with new gen xl. you'll be renewing it, right?" the old man nervously laughed, making sae sigh.

"well, no shit. but you could've waited a few more days or something." sae snatched the paper from the table, clicking the pen and before signing, the old fat man said something that caught his ears.

"well, you know, you got an offer to play under fc barcha. they're adding members of blue lock in that team to prepare for the u-20 world cup." he informed, making sae look up in curiosity.

"blue lock members? do you know who?" sae asked, now wanting to know more.

"ah, well, i don't have the list on the top of my head. but, i know the girl that scored the winning goal for the last game is playing on the team. shit, sorry for bringing that up." the man apologized, realizing that the topic of losing might still be a small wound on the prodigy.

but, sae couldn't be bothered any less. a smirk ghosted on his lips as he threw his pen on the table.

"cancel it." sae declared, ripping the contract in his hand, making his manager's eyes widen.

"s-sae! what are you doing?!" the man panicked, not understanding where this sudden change in heart was coming from.

"i'm accepting the offer to play in fc barcha."

---

you were just about to get comfortable in your bed, though the annoying sound of nagi's snoring was ticking you off. nonetheless, your body was too tired and drained to pay too much mind to such small things.

that was until your phone buzzed.

"the fuck.." you huffed in annoyance, grabbing the device before unlocking it, seeing that it was a message from an unknown number. a gasp leaving your lips as your eyes widened when reading it.

unknown number: see you in fc barcha, cariño.

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sailorsoons · 1 month ago

Text

On the Clock | (c.hs)

PAIRING: Vernon x f. reader

SUMMARY: Modern problems call for modern solutions, including naming a random stranger in the book store as your boyfriend to avoid an embarrassing encounter with your ex. The problem? The stranger is Vernon and he’s not supposed to be a stranger at all - he’s your coworker, and now everyone at the office - including your ex - thinks you’re dating.

WC: 20,296

AU: Faking dating, Coworkers to Lovers, Romcom

GENRE: Smut, some fluff and crack

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Reader has some insecurity about how her working hard is perceived, some ranting about Being A Girlboss, a little bit of inner angst, my bad attempts at humor, reader’s ex boyfriend SUCKS sorry to all the Minho’s of the world I named him after, explicit language, some minor commentary on power dynamics, Star Wars Lore, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex (never do this), oral (f. receiving), nipple play, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, a little bit of a handjob, some cum eating if you squint, Vernon was supposed to be a freak but I made him soft instead, mutual pining.

A/N: Thank you to @camandemstudios for allowing me to be a part of the Lonely Hearts Collab. I’m honored to be among such amazing writers and I cannot wait to see what everyone else wrote.

A/N 2: Thank you to the (w)hor(e)anghae squad @daechwitatamic @eoieopda and @jihopesjoint for beta reading this and letting me blind pass it over so I wouldn’t have to read it again because I don’t like it :)

MASTERLIST | PERMANENT TAG LIST | ASK | LONELY HEARTS CAFE COLLAB

Whosoever slayeth Cain shall suffer sevenfold… or whatever it is the Bible says. You haven’t slayed Cain and you’re not really sure you believe in anything in the Bible, but you’re certainly suffering sevenfold. Eightfold. Ninefold.

Sevenfold had been earlier this morning when you dropped your glass of coffee on the ground, shattering your favorite cup and staining your white tile. Several Clorox wipes later, there is still brown stuck to the grout, looking a bit like you had an unseemly accident in the middle of your kitchen.

Eightfold had been when you decided to fix your weekend by heading to the bookstore. Surely purchasing books that you were going to let sit on your shelf months before reading would fix your day - until someone rear-ended you in the parking lot, leaving a good dent and an apologetic exchanging of numbers and insurance information.

Ninefold comes when you least expect it, standing in the aisle with a stack of books in your hand, eyes flickering over the different titles and ornate covers. You already feel better than you had this morning. The smell of paper, the whisper of turning pages, and the hum of the cafe brewing coffee in the distance immediately puts you at ease.

You swear nothing can put a damper on a good hour spent between shelves - until ninefold walks around the aisle corner.

The stack of books in your arm nearly drops to the ground when you see your ex-boyfriend hand-in-hand with his new girlfriend. You wheel around so fast you slam into the person behind you, which does knock all the books from your hands onto the floor.

A hissed curse leaves your lips followed by a quick apology. You drop to your knees, picking the books up as quickly as you can. The dude you’ve collided with has also dropped his books, the amalgamation of your soon-to-be-purchases making it more difficult for you to pick up your shit and leave the scene before Minho sees you.

Minho says your name, surprised.

“Fuck,” you whisper, fingers going rigid on the stack of books in your hand. You shoot to your feet and spin around, breathless as you come face to face with Minho and the new girlfriend that you definitely didn’t look up on social media a few weeks ago. “Hi, Minho.”

“Wow, it’s nice to see you not in the marketing department for once.”

“Well, I work there…” You offer a bit sharply, tapering to adjust to a nicer tone. “Hence, you know - finding me there.”

“I meant you rarely leave there.” He laughs and you feign a grin, eyes flickering over to the rosy-cheeked and very glossy-haired girl on your ex’s arm.

Good for her, you think. I wonder what hair product she uses.

“This is Mina.”

“Mina?” You ask, sticking your hand out as you shuffle your books awkwardly to the crook over your elbow. She smiles - god she has good teeth - and shakes your hand. “Mina and… Minho. Easy to remember.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Minho tells me you’re the only ex he’s ever left things on good terms with.”

Your eye twitches.

Good terms was a serviceable way to put it, you suppose. Sure, there had been no fighting or infidelity or long distance that put a strain on your relationship. In fact, you hadn’t been aware that there was a strain on your relationship until Minho was sitting you down on his couch and letting you know that it just wasn’t working for him anymore.

That had been confusing. You hadn’t asked any questions though, opting to sit and stare at him while clenching your teeth, nodding along while he explained that your inability to leave work at work and enjoy home while at home was wearing down on him.

You’re not saving lives, he’d said. He had been earnest too, which is the crux of it. You’re in marketing. You need to take a breather.

As if he didn’t come home in a bad mood after shitty sales calls all day, as if he wasn’t stressed when he didn’t hit quota, or didn’t complain about how long the department meeting went - you know. You were there, too.

So sure, you were on good terms. But only one of you seemed to have been unhappy with where things were going, and only one of you seems to have moved on to someone with really good hair genes and great dental hygiene.

Your tongue runs over your teeth, suddenly worried that you’d forgotten to brush them this morning.

“Yeah,” you agree, clearing your throat and choking a bite. “Good terms are always the goodest - best way to end things.”

“He’s really hopeful you’ll find someone,” she sighs, looking up at him dreamily. “He’s always wanted the best for you.”

A vein bursts in your head. Well- no. You wish the vein you feel throbbing in your head would burst and knock you out so you’d no longer have to suffer through this ninefold moment of suffering. Perhaps, even, a very attractive medic with glossy hair and good teeth could come save you and fall in love at first sight.

The genuine way that Minho and Mina look at you tells you that they’re serious, that they see you as something that deserves love too. Said in a cooing voice, said patronizingly, said with a pat on the head and a firm pout.

You turn with your free hand, grabbing the sleeve of the man who is hovering behind you and pull him over to you, grin growing sevenfold. Eightfold.

“No need to worry,” you assure them. “My boyfriend is right here! The stars really did align for me, just like you hoped and dreamed.”

Your seconds-old-star-crossed-lover looks entirely startled, looking between you, Minho and Mina. His books are cradled against his chest, his brown eyes wide. He’s actually incredibly cute, his glasses a little askewand his brown hair a little unruly.

“You’re dating Vernon?”

You look at Minho, blank. “What?”

Minho looks at your Very Real Boyfriend. “You’re dating Vernon? From IT?”

Ninefold, meet Tenfold.

“Of course,” you answer slowly, looking at your partner of now thirty seconds. “I am dating Vernon… from IT.”

Vernon (from IT) looks like he would rather be anywhere else than standing in the middle of the fantasy novel aisle with you at a bookstore, your nails digging tighter into his sleeve and your crazy eyes telling him to get with the program.

Vernon (from IT) clears his throat and nods, looking over at Minho. “Yeah. Hey, Minho.”

“Wow. This is really unexpected.”

“It sure is.”

Your nails dig in harder and Vernon (from IT) tries to pull away from you but you step closer, leaning toward him while flashing Minho and Mina a smile. “Anyway, no need to worry about me finding a relationship. I am very happy.”

“Figures you found someone at work again.” He laughs, but the comment lands like a blow. You feel yourself flinch, smile going too tight. “You really don’t leave enough to find anyone else, huh?”

Vernon (from IT) seems to notice, shifting toward you to slide his arm around your waist. The move startles you, drawing your attention to his face. He really is pretty this up close, his lips the perfect shade of bubblegum pink, his cheekbones high and hidden beneath the rim of his glasses, the tangy scent of citrus on his clothes.

“I like women who work really hard,” Vernon (from IT) assures Minho. “I’ll never get tired of resetting her password over and over again because she loses all her sticky notes everytime the cleaning crew comes through.”

If Minho senses the shift, he doesn’t let on. He’s never been great at social cues anyway, which is what makes him a decent salesman. Still, you’re eager to get out of their way and the glare of Mina’s shiny hair.

“Well,” You state. “We have to get going.”

“For sure. It was nice seeing you outside of work!”

With a final nod, Vernon (from IT) tugs on your waist. You both navigate awkwardly down the aisle, steps not quite in time and hips bumping. It’s uncomfortable and uncoordinated, but as soon as you’re around the aisle and away from your encounter, the two of you separate.

Vernon (from IT) looks anywhere but you. His cheeks are tinted pink as he looks up at the ceiling, shifting from foot to foot while you regain all your books in your arm. Embarrassment and gratitude both well up inside of you, one beating the other out.

“I am really sorry,” you blurt, voice a little loud. The people around you startle and you lower your pitch when Vernon (from IT) looks at you, chewing on his lip. “Thank you - I don’t even know how to say thank you for doing that.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Your cheeks heat. “Right.”

“Happy to help, though. You can thank me by swapping books with me, though.”

“What?”

He gestures to your books. “I was standing behind you because you grabbed my books after you ran into me.”

Oh. Right. You look down at the pile of books in your hand and see a few titles that you own, but did not plan on buying today. You divest yourself of his selections, taking the ones he’d collected off the ground from there.

“So you really work in IT?”

He snorts. The sound is… a little off. You glance up at him, but his face gives away nothing. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know.”

His smile is off, too. “I know.”

You’re unsure how to reply to that, but you’re also uneager to let him go, suddenly. Vernon (from IT) stands there for a second, lips pressed in a firm line and studying you. He really is beautiful, the light hitting his eyes in a way that turns them molten gold and-

“Alright well,” he interrupts your thoughts. “See you later or something.”

The urge to stop him strikes you, your mouth opening and closing. No words come out. You don’t know what to say - or why you want to stop him, just that you do. He walks toward the front of the store to purchase his books, leaving you standing in the middle of the store and wishing you’d met Vernon (from IT) under different circumstances.

Routine is important to you, especially during the weekdays. Wake up, snooze your alarm for at least fifteen minutes, get up when the second one goes off. Groan as you feel every single joint in your body pop after sitting up in bed. Wonder if you really need a corporate job to pay your bills (decide the answer is yes), and get up to feed the furious beast yowling from the bed.

The ferocious beast in question has a routine as well. Perhaps not as important as yours, the cat knows when he’s supposed to be fed and when it’s even a minute past feeding time. Halloween takes his meals very seriously, which you respect.

Your morning continues with the monotonous rhythm you’ve learned to appreciate: make coffee, shuffle back to your room into the ensuite bathroom for skin care, start your morning proper. The only thing that isn’t the same thing every morning is your playlist and your outfit of choice, leading both items up to fate to decide.

A hint of spring is in the air when you step outside. It’s that kind of sunny day with a cool breeze that promises longer days of sun ahead, despite still being brisk in the morning and biting when the sun sets.

Mornings during the days that hang between winter and spring are your favorite. You roll the windows down a little on your drive to work, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as you crawl along with all the other commuters.

Buildings shoot up toward the sky on either side of you. Dozens of banks, private firms, buildings with multiple different businesses and food courts become your entire world as you navigate to the parking garage. It’s already full of cars, but you get special parking.

Well - special as of your promotion just a few weeks ago. The designated parking spot and title bump was all that had come with the promotion, though, much to your dismay.

Still. You’d worked for this particular publishing house in the marketing department for close to a decade now. You weren’t quite as far up the ladder as you wanted to be, but you were trying to get there little by little.

So close. No cigar.

The elevator of the parking garage opens to reveal other office workers already filling the mirror-walled space. You step in as everyone makes room, clutching their bags and briefcases a little closer. You see Mingyu from creative and flash him a polite grin, which is answered with a bright one of his own and a small wave.

When the people not associated with your company shuffle off on other floors, Mingyu slides over closer to you. He’s one of the many designers in the art department, and definitely several rungs below your position, but you started the company at the same time together.

“How was your weekend?” He asks, wagging his brows up and down.

You frown. His questions suggests there’s something salacious to your wild weekend spent reading books with Halloween, but you don’t think burning the bagel you ate for girl dinner or staying in the same shirt for forty-eight hours straight is what he’s looking for.

“It was fine?” It comes out as a question. “How was yours?”

“Hm. It was good. We went out to catch the big game. Seokmin got so drunk he vomited, and Vernon won all of the bets we placed before.”

Mingyu leans forward, looking at you like you’re supposed to understand something. You don’t get it, looking him up and down with a pinched brow.

“That’s nice?” Again, it comes out as a question. “Not for Seokmin, I guess.”

His eyes narrow. Pin you to your spot against the elevator wall.

Then the elevator dings, signalling that you’re at his floor. Creative is an entire level down from marketing, all dim lights and glowing screens for the designers hard at work. Mingyu gets off, still looking suspicious as the elevator doors close and you shoot up another floor.

Instead of focusing on it, you shrug it off. Mingyu has a penchant for being weird - a creative thing, in your opinion. As soon as the elevator door opens, his behavior is long forgotten as you slip into work mode.

Everyone greets you with a polite smile or small wave on the marketing floor. The main office is filled with grey-walled cubicles, employees popping up to peer over walls with mugs of coffee and protein shakes and breakfast items as they ask their neighbors how the weekend was.

A glass wall in the far back denotes the executive and director offices. You head for the one in the back, right corner. Instead of turning on your lights, you let the natural lighting from the floor-to-ceiling windows filter in, keeping the ambiance muted and relaxing. The only additional lights you flick on are the monitor light at your desk and a small salt lamp wedged between the books on one of the many shelves behind you.

Your office is still slowly being decorated. You’d only moved in after your recent promotion, and it’s still bare of personalization, save for the salt lamp and a few things you’d moved in from your cubicle.

And the coffee machine - your own private, blessed coffee machine in the corner on a small bar cart. That might be your favorite thing about your office. You like your coworkers - for the most part, anyway - but being able to bury yourself in your work without having to interact with all of them every time you want coffee is nice.

Sitting down, you roll your shoulders. When your monitor flashes to life, you see the number of emails in your inbox and try not to groan out loud. You’re thrilled to be the new Senior Director of Marketing, but you’ve gone and made the mistake of becoming too important at work, most things unable to move forward without you playing some part in it.

In theory, that was one of the reasons Minho had broken up with you in the first place. Too buried in work, too many late nights at the office, too many dates or movie nights interrupted by the blue glow of your phone screen on your face while you answer urgent emails.

The thing is - you don’t mind. It doesn’t bother you to pause and send a quick email, or to stay late and help get something launched. You like the intricacies of being a problem solver, and with as fast as your company is growing and publishing new titles, you’ve got challenge after challenge ahead of you.

It’s easy to fall into the monotony of answering emails, joining virtual meetings and striking your pen through your to-do list. It fills three pages, but it feels good to cross something off, even if you’ve only completed two things.

By lunchtime, someone is knocking on your window. You look up, surprised to see Seungkwan sticking his head in. He’s the Manager of Digital Marketing and Social Media and he’s dubbed himself as your assistant.

Other duties as assigned, he always jokes, but you are thankful for him.

“You have to eat,” he reminds you in a singsong voice, crossing his arms over his chest. His glasses are pushed up into his blonde hair. “Maybe you can take me to lunch and divulge every detail about your new romance.”

That makes you sputter. “My what?”

Looking like the cat that ate the canary, Seungkwan slips into your office, clapping his hands together. He sits on the edge of the couch in front of your desk, bounding with energy.

“Come on,” he whispers, looking at you earnestly. “Everyone knows - you don’t have to keep it a secret anymore!”

“Keep what a secret?”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re dating Vernon!”

You stare. “Who?”

“Vernon! From IT!”

It comes back in tunnel vision. Ninefold meeting tenfold, Minho and Glossy Hair Mina, Vernon (from IT). Suddenly you’re hot all over, feel it creeping up your neck and blooming across your cheeks. You clear your throat, leaning back in your chair as your fingers reach for your water.

“I’m - oh!” You escape answering for a second by gulping down copious amounts of water, trying to cool the panic that is licking flames up your skin. “Right. Vernon… from IT.”

“Honestly, he’s cute.”

“Ha. Ha. Yes. Um. Yeah.”

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered. How long have you been dating?”

“Uhh very new. Yes. Super new. I’m sorry - how did you hear about this?”

“Mingyu told me, but Soonyoung told him and Joshua in sales told Soonyoung because Minho told the Always Closing group chat.”

“The what?”

He sighs. “Ugh, do you keep up with anything? The sales floor has a group chat. It’s where Soonyoung gets all his tea because he and Joshua room together.”

“Who the fuck is Joshua?”

Seungkwan stares. “It is a wonder you even know who Vernon is. I swear you don’t know people you’ve worked with for years.” A thought seems to strike him and he gasps. “Oh my god is that why you’re always going to him for your fucked up passwords?”

Something Vernon said comes back to you vaguely. Something about forgotten passwords when the cleaning crew throws out your sticky notes. Of course, no one would throw out your sticky notes if you weren’t dropping them all over the floor, but that’s neither here nor there.

Bolting from your seat, you startle Seungkwan, whose brows disappear in his hairline as he stares up at you.

“Actually, I can’t do lunch today.”

He sighs. “Boss, you have to eat.”

“I am! I am going to lunch with my…. Vernon from IT.”

“Oooo.” He leans back, shaking his head and grinning at you. “Go on then. Make sure you wrap it before-”

“If you finish that sentence I will revoke your privilege to my coffee cart.”

Seungkwan’s grin only gets wider. “Enjoy, boss.”

In a flurry, you leave your office. Eyes follow you as you go and suddenly you’re unsure if people are looking at you because you’re walking so fast that you’re almost running, or if it’s because they think you’re dating Vernon).

Your finger nearly breaks as you slam the button over and over again to shoot a few floors down. It doesn’t make the elevator go any faster. When the doors finally close and you begin to descend, you turn to the mirror walls and panic, tucking stray pieces of hair back into place and trying to fix the mascara smudges from staring at your screen for four straight hours.

A knot forms in your stomach. You press your damp palms against your dress pants, wiping viciously to try and keep the moisture at bay. When the elevator dings and the doors open to the silent hum of the IT department, you think you might vomit.

Unlike the marketing floor, no heads turn as you go. You try to maintain a normal pace this time, marching down the rows of cubicles before you realize you have no idea where Vernon sits. You pause awkwardly, standing on your tiptoes to try and see over the walls of cubicles to spot him.

“Can I help you?” A man sticks his head out of his cubicle, his headphones around his neck. He looks you up and down critically. “You’ll have to have proof of submitting a ticket before-”

“Vernon,” you interrupt him. “Vernon from IT? Where does he sit?”

For a second, the guy narrows his eyes. Then a lightbulb seems to go off and he grins, leaning back in his chair. He looks far too pleased with himself, and there’s something oily and slick you don’t like about his gaze. “You’re her.”

“I’m a senior director, yes.”

That changes his tune immediately. He sits up, clearing his throat. “To the back on the left.”

“Thanks.”

Following his lead, you pass by several empty cubicles, everyone seemingly at lunch. You take the corner as instructed and find a handful of men sitting in the same cubicle, one sitting atop a desk and swinging his legs, another leaning against the cubicle wall, and the last one sitting in the seat.

The one sitting in the seat is the quarry you seek, his eyes going wide when he sees you storming toward him. He goes rigid in his seat, clearing his throat and slapping the leg of the man sitting atop his desk. He kicks at Vernon before spotting you and immediately jumping down, straightening his shirt.

Nervous energy crackles as all three sets of eyes settle on you. You stop right in front of his cubicle, trying to put on your bravest smile.

“Hi?” Vernon asks, looking at the two men on either side of him. “Did you forget your password again?”

“What? No. I don’t do it that often.” He looks unsure, brows raised behind his glasses. You huff, putting your hands on your hips. “Okay, I forget it sometimes. But no, that isn’t why I’m here.”

“Does your software need updating?”

“No, I-”

“Oh. I did forget to give Seungkwan that new phone he asked for on behalf of the social team. It came in last week - I’ll finish setting it up and-”

“Lunch!” You all but yell, startling all three men. “I came here for lunch.”

There’s a long pause. Vernon��s coworkers look like they’d rather be anywhere else than trapped by you. You ignore them in favor of a quick study of Vernon. He’s in dress pants and a button down shirt that is untucked and a little wrinkled. It’s a far cry from the casual way he was dressed at the bookstore, but it’s still not totally work appropriate.

Still he pulls it off. There’s something casual and cool about it, aloof in a way that still looks good. His hair is even styled neatly, though a brown lock falls over his eyebrow as he leans forward and asks, “Lunch? The cafeteria is on the first floor.”

The man who had been sitting on his desk kicks him. “She’s asking you to go to lunch, dude.”

“She’s not-” Vernon pauses and looks at you. “Are you asking me to go to lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Your patience narrows to a tight smile, your words pinched between your teeth, “Because that’s what loving girlfriends do, sweetie.”

The words land and have an immediate effect. Vernon flushes from the neck up, mouth opening and closing as he presses his palms against his thigh. The man who kicked him snickers and tries to hide it with a thinly veiled cough.

Your gaze narrows and he notices you watching, clearing his throat to stretch his hand toward you. “I’m Chan. It’s nice to meet… Vernon’s girlfriend?”

You shake his head and say nothing, eyes drifting to the man leaning against the wall. He gives you a small salute. “Seokmin.”

“Oh.” You blink. “The puker?”

His charming smile drops immediately as he looks at Vernon, smacking him on the shoulder. “You told her about that?”

“I didn’t tell her anything.” Vernon stands, shrugging away from both of his friends’ wandering eyes. “Sure, sweetie,” he answers you, giving you a plastic grin. “It’s your treat this week, right? At that very nice, very expensive steakhouse down the block.”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes that tells you Vernon will only play along if it’s by his rules. You’re at a disadvantage, so you grin and nod, willing to go by his rules for now. “That’s so right, darling. Let’s go.”

“Enjoy lunch!” Chan calls behind you as Vernon shuffles behind you, quickly trying to tuck his shirt. “Don’t do anything I-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Vernon warns, quickening his step to match yours. “Sorry about him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got my own version of him sitting in my office.”

The elevator ride down to the first floor and the walk out onto the busy street is silent. It’s not the comfortable, easy silence you might have with Seungkwan or Mingyu - if Mingyu could wrap his head around silence. It's awkwardly silent, both of you looking anywhere but one another.

You don’t know where you’re going, but Vernon leads you to a Michelin steakhouse down the block, true to his word. You glare at him when you step into the dark entryway where a host with hair as glossy as Mina’s greets you.

“Two?” You both nod and she grins. “Right this way.”

Vernon follows her first, shuffling behind her as she leads the two of you into the dining room proper. It’s a beautiful establishment with lacquered floors, rich wooden tables draped with fine tablecloths and the kind of glassware that looks like real crystal.

When you both sit down with menus in hand, the hostess leaves you and you lean forward, hissing, “How much money do you think I make?”

“More than I do in IT,” Vernon answers breezily, eyes roving the menu. For a second, his gaze flickers to meet yours over the top of the menu. It’s the first time he’s really looked at you since you marched into his office. “Consider it an apology meal for the mess you’ve got us in.”

“Hey! You played along?”

“You’re right, I guess I could have just super embarrassed you in front of your ex-boyfriend. That would have been very polite of me.”

That stumps you. You open and close your mouth, feeling a bit like a fish. You suppose that’s fair - what was Vernon supposed to do when you’d grabbed him in the middle of a bookstore and staked your claim?

Sighing, you lean back as your server gives you a moment of respite, filling your glasses with water and going over the specials. When they leave, you grab your glass and take several gulps of water, trying to cool your head.

It only works a little.

“I didn’t know Minho was going to tell the entire world.”

“Really? Minho has the biggest mouth at this company. You should see his Teams messages.”

“You can do that?”

“On the clock?” He asks. When you shake your head, assuring it stays between you, he nods. “Yeah, we can see everything you do.”

“Oh.” You think of all the terrible things you’ve searched on your work computer like how to get over a breakup and how to tell if my ex still likes me. “Anyway, I didn’t know he was going to say anything.”

The server returns to take your orders. You order some sort of steak salad at random while Vernon orders something blessedly modest. As the server parts ways, Vernon leans back in his chair and looks at you again, expression unreadable.

“Well,” he eventually says. “No harm done once you tell everyone we’re not dating.”

“Once I what?”

“Well you’ll have to-”

“No way.”

“What?”

“Do you know how embarrassing that would be?”

He raises a brow. “More embarrassing than grabbing some dude in the bookstore and claiming he’s your boyfriend.”

The air leaves your lungs and you melt into the seat, your misery showing. “I already said sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Just tell everyone you broke up with me.”

You snort. “No one would believe that.”

“Why?”

Instead of answering him immediately, you busy yourself unraveling silverware. It’s a hard question to answer, not because you don’t know the answer but because you don’t want to tell him. Vernon is quiet, though. Patient.

He doesn’t press you for an answer, happy to wait you out until you’ve folded your napkin and placed it on your lap, and once again drained the rest of your water. It does nothing for your nerves as you fixate on a spot atop the table.

“I don’t… date.”

“You dated Minho.”

“Yeah. That’s uh… it. It’s kind of a running joke that I am undateable.”

He frowns at that. “Respectfully, I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

“Thanks. I think.” You pick at a string in the tablecloth. “Anyway, no one would buy that I ended the first relationship I’ve had since Minho. I didn’t even end the last one and sort of clung to it in a way that was sort of embarrassing.”

“I see.”

You’re unsure if he really does. When Minho had broken up with you, you’d attempt to make arguments to keep him around. Offered less work hours, even said you’d go to therapy to talk about your insane need for success. He hadn’t wanted any of it, and you’d eventually realized that he just… didn’t want you.

They never did, when people realized what dating you entails. Everyone wants a woman who works hard. They like the illusion of it, the woman who gets up early in the morning and goes to workout before going to her corporate job and girl bossing all day long. They desire the woman who dresses fashionably, who wears designer tags and commands a room all day before coming home to make an effortless dinner followed by a luxurious night routine.

And you get it. You want to be that too. But the truth is most days you wake up past your alarm and rush to the office wearing shoes that don’t match, and sometimes you come home so late and burned out from your job that you eat a handful of shredded cheese over the sink with a stick of beef jerky, only to do it all again the next day.

That wasn’t what anyone wanted. At least, not in your experience.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “You’re right, or whatever. I should just tell them I lied. I’ve given worse news. Just you know - less personal.”

For a few minutes, Vernon is quiet. You don’t look up to meet his gaze. Instead you watch the ice cubes in your glass melt, little beads of condensation zigzagging down the curve of your glass.

A sigh makes you look up at Vernon. “What if we dated for like a month or something?”

“What?”

“I don’t mean really date,” he offers quickly, sensing your surprise. For some reason, that stings a little. You swallow it down past the knot forming in your throat. “It’ll get people off your back or whatever and we can just mutually end things.”

“Really? You’d do that.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I guess, yeah.”

“You can break up with me,” you promise eagerly, leaning forward with the new promise of a solution to your problem. “Everyone will believe it. Just say I work too much and I’m too obsessed with my career.”

An uneasy gaze flickers in Vernon’s eyes. “It can be mutual,” he says firmly. “That way it ends nicely.”

“Fine. Everyone will think one thing anyway, you’ll get out without a scratch, trust me. Are you sure you’re willing to do this? I can… suck it up and tell everyone I made it up.”

“Do you really want to?”

“No,” you admit.

“Then it’s settled.” He shrugs, heaving a heavy sigh. “I’ll give you a month and then we can mutually end things.”

Sticking your hand over the table, you offer it for Vernon to shake. His mouth twitches a little as he smiles, leaning forward to take your hand. His is warm and softer than you imagined, enveloping yours firmly as he shakes.

“Deal,” you smile, feeling a glimmer of hope.

Just like that, Vernon (from IT) becomes Vernon (your boyfriend).

Sort of.

Vernon doesn’t consider himself anxious. He’s never really dealt with anxiety, and there are only a few things that can make him nervous in the world. The few times he remembers being nervous were when he was in a bidding war for a limited edition Millenium Falcon model, in line at a meet-and-greet for his favorite band when he was sixteen, and when he lost his virginity to Carley Waters in his sophomore year of college.

He’d won the bidding war and managed to not sound like an idiot meeting his idols, but he definitely came immediately after putting his dick inside Carley. Two out of three were pretty good odds, all things considered.

Vernon is more nervous than all three of those events combined as he checks himself in the mirror for the millionth time. Usually, he doesn’t really think twice about what he wears to the bar on the weekend. He has fifteen of the same shirt in the same colors, and his jeans all look the same, even though he thinks they’re different.

Now, though, he has the added element of you. He cannot recall a single time that you’ve ever agreed to go out with your work friends - and to your surprise, not his, you do have the same work friends - but tonight is different.

Tonight, you’re supposed to be dating.

It’s weird. Chan and Seokmin agree it’s weird. He keeps no secrets from them and had already told them about the encounter at the bookstore. They’ve sworn themselves to secrecy, though Vernon cannot fathom how they just go with it.

She’s really hot, Chan had said after a few sips of beer. Fuck it, right?

She’s the third most executive person in marketing, Seokmin warned. Be careful.

Both are true. Vernon had acknowledged Chan’s point the first time he’d seen you in Information Technology a little over two years ago. You’d been dating Minho then and entirely untouchable - still are, kind of - and Vernon had been the only person at the office early enough to help you out. He’d been new then, and often came in the earliest to get started on the overload of tasks he was always given as the junior employee.

Even then, Vernon thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Sure, you had on mismatched shoes and there was a breathy chaos to you that would probably stress most people out, but he sort of liked it. Thought that it was different in a good way, and spoke to the sort of person who worked really hard and didn’t fake their way through the day.

Vernon had realized Seokmin's point right after he’d learned Chan’s. As soon as he helped you login to your computer, he’d realized you were a Senior Manager of Marketing. Not a huge title in a company so big, but high enough that Vernon thought twice about his attraction to you.

Now, both of their points are moot. You’re still attractive but that doesn’t really change the situation - makes it harder, even. Vernon had never really dreamed of an actual relationship with you and now that he’s found himself in a fake one, he’s not really sure what to do with the acknowledgement that he’s attracted to you.

Worse is that he doesn’t actually know if he’s allowed to date you. Vernon is a senior coordinator in the IT department and you’re a senior director. Perhaps not in his department or directly overseeing him, but it’s a high enough position that Sekomin is right - it could mean trouble if this goes poorly.

So why the fuck did he offer to fake date you for a month?

As someone in Information Technology, most people think Vernon is smart. He doesn’t consider himself to be above average intelligence, and as he slides his sneakers on his feet to go pick you up for a night out, he thinks everyone is wrong about him - he’s fucking stupid.

Looking in the mirror one more time, Vernon decides it’s as good as it’s ever going to get. Jeans, a black shirt and a hat facing backward is all he really knows how to style. He shoves his keys in his pocket, a tiny vial of contact solution just in case, and grabs his phone as he heads out the door.

Your apartment complex isn’t that far from his. He finds it with ease, surprised that you don’t live in one of those high-rise apartments that all the other executives live in. The apartment is pretty modest with only three floors and rows of respectable Toyota Camrys and Honda Civics.

When he spots you coming down the stairs, his traitorous heart does that same little staccato it had last weekend when he saw you at the bookstore. He hadn’t expected to run into you outside of work and only panicked for a split second before he realized that you didn’t recognize him.

And then you’d called him your boyfriend.

Recovering from the memory of it, Vernon stares as you open the door to his car, flashing a tight smile as you slide in. He doesn’t know what he thought you might wear on the weekend, but he’s surprised to see you in jeans, a black form-fitted shirt tucked in, and a simple purse on your arm.

“What?” You ask, a little breathless. He sees the sticky shine of lipgloss on your mouth and squeezes the wheel, fighting the urge to lean over and taste it.

Insane, he thinks as he puts the car in gear. He’s gone insane.

“Nothing. I guess I just thought you’d live somewhere nicer.”

“Oh.”

Your shift in tone makes him realize how it sounded. “Sorry - not like that. I thought it would be somewhere really fancy. You’re a senior director and all that.”

“I only got promoted a few weeks ago. And it was not a pay raise, trust me.”

“Seriously?” You glance sidelong at him, pausing like you’ve said something you shouldn’t. His lips twitch and he says, “Not on the clock.”

That gets you to grin, leaning back into the passenger seat. “Only came with an office and title bump. I was already doing all the work of a senior director so they felt like they needed to bump my title to protect themselves, I think.”

“That’s kind of shitty.”

You hum. “Is it like that in IT?”

“I think it’s like that anywhere.”

“Good point.”

A comfortable silence falls over the car. It’s not at all like the awkward, stilted lunch the two of you had at the beginning of the week. He had been sweating through his shirt that time around, though you didn’t seem to notice. He’d been a little angry with you too, for getting the both of you into this mess.

But… it had been his idea to help you save face. He didn’t have to. He didn’t owe you anything, and he believes you when you say you would come clean and admit you lied through your teeth. Maybe that’s why he offered to help anyway, your willingness to swallow the pain of embarrassment to relieve him of the facade.

Library is a hole in the wall bar that Vernon and his friends from work like to go to on Saturday nights. It’s sort of a funny joke, a bunch of professionals from the publishing industry getting drunk and eating shitty bar food in a place named for the very buildings they dedicate their life to, in a weird, roundabout, mathematical way.

Vernon has friends outside of work that come too, but tonight it’s just the usual crowd: Chan, Seokmin and Seokmin’s girlfriend, Mingyu and Soonyoung from creative, and some of the people from the sales team. The sales team is only there by virtue of Joshua, who is the only person from sales Vernon remotely tolerates.

Vernon isn’t exactly sure what a sales team does at a publishing company anyway.

When Vernon parks, he sees you take a deep breath. He averts his eyes, feeling like he’s intruding on a moment before you brace yourself and get out of the car suddenly. He makes a noise and panics to follow you. You’re already plunging ahead like you’re storming into battle, and perhaps in your mind you are.

He jogs to catch up. “Wait!”

You stop, turning to face him with a dubious expression. “What?”

“We should walk in together.”

“Oh.” You blink. It’s a bit cute but Vernon shoves that down. “You’re right. Sorry. I sort of… set my mind to the task and forgot.”

“You can’t approach this like you approach work.”

“I can’t?”

He laughs. “No. Relationships aren’t jobs - so a fake one isn’t either. You have to try and appear like this is natural. If you come in all to-do list and checkmarking the boxes, it’s going to look weird.”

“Oh.”

The confidence you had a second before deflates. He feels a little guilty, reaching out to take your hand before he realizes what he’s doing. Your hands are cold in his but he doesn’t mind, wrapping his fingers in yours as you stare at him like he’s grown three heads.

Maybe he has.

“We should walk in together. Maybe holding hands.”

“Right.” You lick your lips and he tries to give you a smile more confident than what he’s feeling. His heart is hammering in his chest, both at the way your hand squeezes his nervously and at the preposterousness of it all. “You’re kind of good at this.”

“I just have a different perspective.”

“The perspective of someone who knows how to date versus… whatever I am.”

He hears the joke in your tone so he lets himself laugh a little. He starts walking, tugging you next to him. “Not exactly. I just watch a lot of movies, including romances.”

“Really? What’s your favorite one?”

“Uhhh.” He thinks about it as you both approach the door. He doesn’t answer for a second while he flashes the security outside his ID. “I really like The Proposal. With Sandra Bullock.”

Instead the bar is filled with modern music at a reasonable level and small, wooden tables with chipped tops. There is nothing about the bar that actually looks like a library, save the single shelf shoved in the corner with beat up comic books and an insane amount of hentai that Soonyoung put there.

“You mean the one where the boss fake dates her employee… and they work at a publishing company?”

As soon as you ask the question, Vernon realizes the irony. He looks at you with a wide gaze, pausing at the entrance to look at you. Your mouth folds on itself, trying not to laugh as you too realize the irony of the movie.

“Yeah, so that’s weird I guess,” he admits. He tugs on your hand. “Come on, we always sit in the back.”

You follow him wordlessly. The crowd isn’t big inside, but there are enough people that you have to shuffle a little closer to him. He catches the scent of your perfume - it smells like sweet tobacco and vanilla, something that is subtle with a little bit of spice.

Turning around the corner of the bar, you see a wall entirely taken by booths with pool tables in the open space. Mingyu and Seokmin’s girlfriend are already fighting over the felted green as she points a pool cue at him, threatening. Seokmin is lounging in one of the booths, watching on with a dopey grin that makes Vernon roll his eyes.

Everyone else sits in in a variety of booths, an entire corner dedicated to the dozen or so of them who have made this their home for the last two years. Vernon keeps you close, feeling his hands go clammy when all the eyes turn to the two of you. Despite the rumor having spread far and wide, it’s clear that surprise ripples through the crowd at seeing evidence of your relationship.

The fake one, that is. Naturally.

Instead of going directly to the safety - or danger, in this case - of his friends, Vernon heads to the bar. He needs to take the edge off immediately, though he knows he can’t get too crazy. The drive home is short, but even if you weren’t in his car for the evening, he doesn’t like to tempt fate.

Next to him at the bartop, you drop his hand to press your palms against the sticky wood. You make a face and he laughs before ordering a simple rum and coke. You order the same but with a lime and the bartender flashes you a charming grin.

Vernon glances at you and realizes you don’t even register the bartender. You’re chewing your lip and fidgeting, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt and shifting from foot-to-foot. A pang goes through him.

“Relax.” You look up at him, eyes wide. “We’re going to do fine.”

“What if I fuck it up?” You ask, voice barely audible as you lean in. “They’re going to see right through me, Vernon from IT. They’re going to have one conversation with us and be like ‘no way is he dating that lunatic.’”

“For starters, you’re not a lunatic.” You give him a look and he amends, “Not in the way that’s bad, anyway.”

“How do you know? We barely know each other.”

You’ve got him there. The bartender comes back with your drinks and you take yours, draining half of it before remembering the lime. He watches you squeeze it into the drink while he contemplates his answer.

“I guess I just have a feeling for these things. You don’t seem very crazy to me.”

“Thanks.”

“And I guess I’m getting to know you, so there’s that.”

You sigh. “Right.”

“You’ll do fine. But maybe don’t call me Vernon from IT.”

“Right.”

“Come on.”

With wavering confidence, you follow Vernon over to the crowd from work. Everyone greets you warmly, though a little unsure. He notes the comments about being shocked to see you outside the four walls of your office, a joke you take in stride.

It’s clear you don’t know how to interact with everyone at first. It’s not to say that you’re stiff or awkward, but Vernon can see the rigid set in your shoulders and the way your eyes follow the conversation but don’t actually contribute.

You have an effect on others as well. For those who are a little more unfamiliar with you, they can’t seem to puzzle out why one of the higher ups is here guzzling down rum and cokes. And you are guzzling them down, carving a path to and from the bar at a rate that impresses Vernon.

“How are things going?” Chan slips into the seat you just vacated to march to the bar again. “She seems surprisingly normal.”

“Why is that surprising?”

Chan gives him a look. “She’s a suit.”

“I don’t think so,” Vernon laughs. “Trust me on that.”

Chan hums unconvinced, watching you at the bar. “She’s nice, at least.”

“Very.”

“Don’t fall in love with her or anything.”

“Weird thing to say, man.”

“Yeah, well. She’s attractive, nice, and no offense, a little weird. She’s exactly your type.”

That makes him frown. “What’s weird about her? Also, would that be so bad?”

“She knew the radius of the sun and the verbatim definition of parsecs. I’m not answering that second question because I shouldn’t have to.” Chan claps him on the shoulder, looking over Vernon’s head. “She’s coming back, but seriously. Be careful.”

Chan scoots away, flashing Vernon a look that makes the single drink Vernon has had sour in his stomach. Then you’re there, sitting down next to him, swaying a little bit. He smells sweet tobacco and vanilla, his eyelids fluttering for a second as you shift a little too close - or what would be too close, if you weren’t fake dating.

“What’s that look on your face?” You ask, sipping your drink. He wonders if it’s appropriate to ask if you need water.

“What look on my face?”

“You know, like-” You try to pinch your brows together and your mouth puckers downward. He feels himself smile and he shakes his head. “Sort of frowny.”

“Nothing.” You look at him skeptically. “Hey, I have a question.”

You pause, looking a little panicked. “Okay.”

“What’s the radius of the sun?”

“Oh!” You visibly brighten and it’s like watching the sun spill over the lip of the horizon, all gold and liquid, warm and bright. “432,690 miles. Surface temperature is about 5,772 Kelvin.”

Suddenly, Chan’s warning feels very, very real. Vernon tries to hide his smile, looking down at the table. Meanwhile, you start rattling off facts about the sun, not taking a single breath as you explain you memorized them from when you were working on the marketing for a line of textbooks about space early on in your career.

Vernon lets you talk. Lets you somehow divert back to work, watching as you animatedly walk him through the process of what you do. How you think. It’s fascinating, and he’s not really sure how anyone else could find it tiresome, seeing the way you light up when you tell him about a project that Seungkwan’s team killed it on.

Your pride is palpable, your energy shifting from unsure to confident.

Suddenly, you pause, leveling Vernon with a hard stare. He says nothing, watching the way you drink him in, something beneath the surface of your gaze he can’t quite read. “Can I say something?”

“On the clock?” he asks, grinning. You shake your head and he gestures for you to continue.

“You have pretty eyes. I still like when you wear glasses, though. They suit you.”

Yeah. Vernon thinks Chan’s warning is very real.

Running in heels is hard. You don’t know how anyone manages to do it in movies. Not that you think anything that happens in movies is real, but you can’t imagine how they make it work for the scene. You nearly break your ankle three times on your sprint to IT and you’re sure you scare the daylights out of Chan when you come tearing around the corner.

You shout a greeting over your shoulder but don’t stop until you’re hissing Vernon’s name while rushing into his cube. He flinches, turning around to look at you mid-task. You’re heaving, putting a hand on your hip as you straighten, trying to suck down air.

“Say no!”

He’s visibly confused. “To what?”

“Just say no!”

Before Vernon can ask you another thing, you hear Minho’s voice. Your heart thunders in your ribcage as you try to lean against the wall of Vernon’s cube, nearly missing it. You stumble a few steps and he catches you by the elbow, lightning quick as he helps steady you.

When he drops his grip, the place where Vernon had held you moments before is warm. You try not to think about it, heart thundering doubletime as you watch Minho approach, a lazy swing to his step and a smirk on his face.

“Funny I found you here!”

“Why would that be funny? My Vernon - my boyfriend is down here.”

From the corner of his eye, you see Vernon wince. You’re not doing a great job at keeping it casual, but you’re also still out of breath from sprinting down the stairs to beat Minho here and warn Vernon. Seungkwan had barely been able to give you the heads up that Minho was going to ask for a double date, and you simply couldn’t have that.

Even as you near the end of your second week dating - fake dating - Vernon, you’re unsure the two of you can get through a date with someone who actually knows you. Vernon might be able to give some details on the surface, but you dated Minho for a year - how could Vernon ever hope to keep up?

Minho leans against Chan’s cube. Luckily it’s vacant of its usual occupant - Chan hates Mihno, as you’ve recently learned through a lunch with him and Vernon.

“Glad I caught you together, then,” Minho says, though you think he’s not that glad. But what do you know? “I wanted to see if you were busy on-”

“Yes.” You flash him a too-wide grin with too many teeth.

“I didn’t even give you the date.”

“We’re always very busy.”

“Ah.” Minho scratches the back of his neck and gives Vernon a look akin to sympathy. “Never has time, does she? Always all work, no play. I wanted to see if you guys wanted to go to dinner with Mina and I tomorrow night, but…” He shrugs. “Same old.”

You try not to let your exterior crack, but Minho’s words cut right through your outer shell to the softness of you. Without fail he manages to highlight this obsession you have with work, making it sound worse every single time.

Behind you, Vernon shifts closer. You become acutely aware of him suddenly, warmth radiating from him as his chest presses against the back of your arm and his hand slips to the middle of your back, featherlight, like he’s afraid to touch you. He smells like ocean driftwood and salt, something that makes you think of warmer days. Fresh fruit. Cold water.

Fighting a shiver, you freeze up, hyper aware of him.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Vernon says gently. “She doesn’t work that much. She makes plenty of time for me.”

Minho’s eye twitches, the only sign he’s annoyed. As a trained salesperson, his tells are always subtle, nearly undetectable. But you know him inside and out, can see the sliver of annoyance there.

Satisfaction rules supreme, a smile tugging at your lips until Vernon adds, “We can make time for them, right?”

You snap your head to the side, eyes meeting his. Vernon has beautiful eyes. You’d said as much the other night when you had a little too much to drink, staring up at him without his glasses. He looks good without them, but you like the way the frames sit on his nose, the way they reflect light against the liquid brown of his iris.

Now, those eyes are staring back at you straight on. There’s something fierce in them, and though you barely know him, you have a sneaking suspicion Vernon is annoyed. Not with you but with Minho.

Still…

“Are you sure?”

Your question is gentle. For a moment, you forget Minho is there at all. You’re looking at Vernon, trying to puzzle out why he would say yes to something insane again. It was lucky enough he’d offered to participate in this little charade to save your pride, and now here he is doing it again, unprompted.

Vernon’s mouth twitches. He nods, hand pressing into your back a little firmer before he drops it away. You turn to Minho, who watches the two of you with a peculiar expression. “Alright,” you tell him. “It’s a date.”

“Great. I’ll send you the details.”

When Minho leaves, you turn to Vernon, the question on the tip of your tongue. He doesn’t give you a chance, shooting you a sidelong glance as he says, “Why is he always bringing up your work schedule?”

You wince. Vernon either doesn’t notice or is nice enough not to say anything. Instead of answering right away, you sit on top of Vernon’s desk, feet dangling a little. He makes room for you, turning his chair to face you and give you his full attention.

He’s dressed the same as always today, but you notice his shirt is ironed and tucked in neatly. Rubbing his brow, he slides his glasses up on his head, pressing his fingers along his eye sockets like they’re strained.

“What kind of stuff do you do?” You ask instead of answering his question. You gesture to his multiple computer screens. “Besides help me figure out my passwords.”

“Lots of stuff. It’s mostly small things like remoting into people’s computers to help them solve their issues. I spend a majority of my day showing people how to unmute themselves on their virtual meeting software.”

“Do you like it?”

He shrugs. “It’s got a rhythm to it that I like. I like having a to-do list every day and I can pretty much always know what to expect.”

“That does sound nice. And you can spy on everyone’s messages right?”

He raises his brow. “On the clock?” That makes you smile and you shake your head. “I could, but I don’t. There are a ton of people who forget us and HR can see all their shit, though.”

“Ooo like what?”

He sucks in air through his teeth, “Man, I don’t think I can tell you.”

You can tell he’s teasing and you scoff, kicking out with your foot toward his knee. He dodges you easily with a playful grin. “Come on!”

“I’ll tell you off the clock. Real off the clock.”

“Fine. Speaking of - are you busy tonight?” He raises his brows in question. “We should probably meet up and try to flesh out some details of our uh… relationship. I know some things about you but not a lot. Like, when is your birthday?”

“February 18.”

You slap your hand on top of his desk. “Vernon! That’s super soon! Are you doing anything for it?”

“Nah. I don’t ever want to make a fuss and it's close to Valentine’s Day so sometimes people are doing things retroactively.”

You hum, displeased with the answer, but you file it away for later. “So are you free tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, you can come over to my place. Do you like pizza? You have to like pizza, right? You’re a boy.”

“A lot of boys like pizza, yes. Specifically me.”

“Good. Seven?”

“Seven.”

A knock at the door makes you look up from your computer. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust, the light outside the office windows long fading with the setting sun and the only other source the salt lamp behind you and the burn of the safety lights in the main cubicles.

Vernon leans against the door frame, resting his head against it as he peers at you. For a second, you forget about everything except the way he looks leaned against the frame, his glasses perfectly perched on his nose and hair soft with wear from the day.

Then, you lurch with realization, gasping and looking at your watch. “It’s seven.”

“It’s seven,” he agrees, laughing gently.

You bolt from the seat, groaning and grabbing things to shove in your bag. In the process, you knock over a cup and a curse flies out your lips. He pushes off the door, walking over to help you tame the chaos.

“Easy,” he admonishes. “All good here, don’t panic.”

“I’m really sorry. I got stuck working through this media plan that someone asked for and I completely lost track of time.”

“It’s okay.”

The panic welling up inside you calms down as you look up at him. Vernon says nothing further, picking up your cup and righting the pens that you’ve knocked over. His movements are casual, straightening the things on your desk until he’s satisfied and steps away.

You prepare for annoyance, for the same expression you’re used to when you’re late to an event or have missed a thing, when you’ve yet again lost track of time holed up in your office and yet… Vernon just gives you an easy smile and a shrug.

No annoyance. No judgment. Just… Vernon.

Perhaps tenfold isn’t so bad.

“It’s not pizza, but there's a tiny little bar a few blocks down that I really like. They serve food.”

“Yeah?”

He nods and hesitates. “It’s… themed, though.”

“That’s okay. I like a theme.”

The theme in question isn’t so much of a theme as it is an entire franchise. You stand in the doorway of Cantina Far Away, mouth parted as you drink in the sights and sounds of the Star Wars themed bar.

A circular bar sits in the middle of the small establishment. There isn’t a ton of room to recreate the iconic corner of the world where you were first introduced to Han Solo as a kid, but there’s just enough to make the magic work.

Kegs and other apparatuses hang from the ceiling of the stone top bar. Lights track underneath the bar top and in the ceiling, giving the dim illusion that it’s permanently dusk inside. Small, round tables fill the main space, with three booths lined against the back wall. An R2-D2 replica stands beside C3-PO in the corner, and a familiar soundtrack plays through the sound system.

“If you want to go somewhere else-”

“Do they have blue milk?”

Vernon pauses. “What?”

You look up at him, grinning. “Do they have the blue milk?”

“They have something on their menu like that, yeah. I don’t know what it is.”

“I always wanted to drink the blue milk as a kid.”

“Alright.” He gestures to the bar, which is mostly empty. “Let’s get you blue milk.”

Popping up on a stool, you can’t help but crane your neck upward to look at the bar from this angle. It truly looks like every part of it was taken from the movie set. You run your hand atop the bar’s surface to realize it’s actually wood that looks like stone, marveling at the smoothness.

Behind the bar, two bartenders move in sync, dressed in Jedi robes. When they approach, you both order the blue milk - you, because you demand to know what it tastes like, Vernon, in solidarity.

Vibrating with excitement, you turn to look at Vernon. “When I was a kid, watching Star Wars was one of the few things my mom and I got to do together.”

“One of the few things?”

You nod, clapping your hands excitedly when the bartender brings you whatever concoction the blue milk is. It comes in a tall glass and is clear, baby blue and frothy at the top. Leaning over, you take a whiff. It smells vaguely coconutty and you narrow your eyes, leaning forward to take a tentative sip.

Coconut rum hits your tongue and you cringe. Vernon does too, making a face and sticking his tongue out as he immediately shoves the drink away from him. You laugh, not even caring that you hate it. It tastes nothing like you expected and you don’t really like coconut, but it strikes a nostalgic chord.

“My mom was a single parent and worked really hard at a law firm,” you eventually answer, taking another sip and cringing. Vernon orders something more generic - a rum and coke for you both. “But she always made time on the weekend if I really wanted to do a Star Wars marathon and she took off work for all the prequel releases to take me.”

“That’s cute. My mom was really into it too. Want to know a secret?”

“Yes.”

“My first name is Hansol. A little inspired by Han Solo. I prefer to go by Vernon with everyone who isn’t my family, though.”

That makes you smile. “I like it, though. Your mom has good taste like mine. Think they’d be friends?”

He blushes. “Maybe.”

You realize how forward of a question it is. You avert your gaze to your blue drink, sipping it and grimacing. Vernon chuckles and says, “You don’t have to drink it.”

“I don’t have to do a lot of things but I do anyway.”

“Hmm. Like what?”

“Ugh. I don’t know? Attend meetings all day?”

“I think you do have to do that.”

You scrunch your nose. “Alright, fair.”

“Tell me about your job.”

You glance at him, brows raised. “You want me to talk about work?”

“It’s obvious you like what you do, and by the sounds of it, working hard runs in the family. Tell me what you like about it.”

That makes you sigh as you push the ice around in your glass. What do you like about your job? Well, you like a lot of things and you hate a lot of things. So you start listing them, telling Vernon that you like the routine and you enjoy having a rhythm to your day. You like feeling proud when you can solve a problem no one else can, or when you lead your team through chaos and they look at you like you’re a god who showed them the way.

You like that you can be an authority in the room but you don’t feel like a dictator, and that now when you talk, people listen. Your team is your favorite, loving the way you and Seungkwan work in tandem, and the way the creative department likes to pick your brain. Mingyu and Soonyoung are always asking for your feedback, even if your opinion doesn’t matter in the hierarchy of their world.

The dislikes though… well, you dislike that you never have enough time in the day. That you’re always in a meeting and feel like you leave your team drowning in work picking up the slack. Hate that you get time blindness and sit in your office for hours past dinner to get something right, to get something perfect.

Hate that because you like what you do, everyone thinks you don’t have a life or don’t want a life. And that leads you to the center of the entire issue with your relationship with Minho.

You pull away like you’re approaching a particularly purple bruise when you near the topic of Minho. Your blue drink is gone and you order something more normal instead. The coke and rum sizzles on your tongue as Vernon looks at you expectantly.

“I’m doing all the talking,” you mutter, a little defensive. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“What kind of blue.”

“Blue like that very nasty milk you just drank.” You stick your tongue out and Vernon smiles. His smile is like a burning star at the center of a solar system, glowing and bright and warm. It gives life. “What’s yours?”

“Deep red. Like… wine or burgundy. What’s your favorite movie?”

“Ah, not that question. I’m a bit of a cinephile.”

“Too bad. You have to pick one.”

Vernon thinks about it. The tip of his finger traces the condensation of his glass lazily and you hyperfocus on it, watching the way he catches the bead of liquid every time. He has nice fingers, you realize. The thought makes you clench and suddenly wonder if you need to walk out of the bar down to the church to confess the sin of your mind.

Not that you’re religious, but maybe you should be, with where your mind has wandered.

“I like The Princess Bride.”

You gasp, grabbing him by the wrist and shaking it excitedly. “My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!”

Vernon’s laughter is infectious. You both fall into a fit of giggles, quoting your favorite parts of the movie. It’s nice - this is nice. It’s unexpected and you’re a little unsure how you got here, but Vernon makes the pressure of getting to know one another in preparation to fake date in front of your ex fade away.

Until, of course, you remember that’s why you’re at the bar and the thought suddenly sobers you.

Straightening, you ask, “Why’d you want to go on a double date, anyway? You don’t owe me that.”

“He seemed kind of smug. I thought it was annoying.”

You hum, studying him. “It’s a bit risky. I dated him for a year… if there’s anyone who knows anything about me, it’s probably him.”

“I can always just hack into your data and learn everything about you.” You stare at him, mouth opens. His grin grows. “I’m kidding. I mean I probably could but I’m not a hacker.”

“Are you sure? You’re a bit suspicious, Vernon Chwe.”

“Hansol.” You frown in confusion. His tone is gentle, eyes soft when he murmurs, “You can call me Hansol. You know… to make it um. Seems legit.”

“Hansol.” You try out the name, liking the way it fits on your tongue. His eyes are dark and you feel like you could fall into them - you kind of want to. “Hansol. I like it.”

Maybe you don’t need to go to that church to beg for forgiveness after all. What you think you need might be divine intervention to stop the butterflies in your stomach when you say his name, or the nervous shake in your hand when you see him smile.

Not Vernon (from IT) but Hansol.

Hansol (from IT) is late when he picks you up. For once, you’re just glad it’s not you. Your heart beats a little faster when you see him pull up in his nondescript, black RAV4. He waves through the window when he sees you, a shy smile on his face as he reaches to turn down the music.

Inside the car smells distinctly like Hansol - driftwood, salt, a little bit of the air freshener that has long since dried but still sways under his rearview mirror. He looks good tonight, dressed in ripped jeans, a black shirt and a black leather jacket. He’s sans glasses, and though he looks good, you miss them a little.

Hansol without the glasses is a little intimidating. Especially this version of him that grins when you settle into the seat next to him, his brows slightly raised as though to ask if you’re good. When you nod, his grin tilts upward again and he puts the car and drive, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift tapping to the beat of the music.

It feels like you’re radiating nervous energy, but you relax as Hansol asks about your day. He’s good at that, eliminating whatever weight is sitting on your shoulders or whatever residual stress you’ve got from work. You don’t feel so… well. On the clock.

The thought makes you squirm in your seat, pulling the edge of your dress down your thighs a little. You picked it out as a last minute choice, unsure whether you’re trying to dress to impress or dress to show you don’t care what Minho thinks of you.

Hansol notices you fidgeting. “You alright?”

“Kind of nervous.”

“Any reason in particular?”

You blow out air, your head smacking against the headrest. “On the clock?”

“Off,” he says with a grin.

“I feel like I’m going to fucking blow it.”

“How so?”

“What if he asks me to kiss you?”

The words are out before you can stop them. It isn’t until you’re met with silence that you realize what you’ve said. You’ve certainly stuck your foot in your mouth on more than one occasion. You do it often, and quite wonderfully, truthfully. It has taken years of practice to stop flubbing presentations and pitches at work, but that doesn’t mean you don’t say insane shit.

Like right now, when you tell Hansol that of all the things you’re nervous about, the very slim, tiny percent of a chance of being asked to kiss him is at the top of the list.

And yet, because it’s Hansol, he grins and says, “Damn, Minho’s a freak like that? He likes to ask people to kiss so he can watch?”

Just like that, the tension eases. You laugh, hand flying your mouth to try and suppress it. His eyes are on the road, but they glitter when you catch a glimpse of his face in the headlines, flashing from dark to liquid gold for a split second.

“Okay,” you admit, laughter dying down. “He’s definitely not going to ask that. It’s just one of those irrational fears, especially with him.”

“Why especially?”

“I feel like he’s always trying to prove that he was right when he broke up with me. Or I guess, in general. He loves being right and sometimes it’s like he’s trying to force a gotcha moment.”

Hansol is silent as he turns into the parking lot. You say nothing, watching as he navigates to find a parking space. The restaurant is busy and there’s a valet, but Hansol is determined to find his own. He does - very close to the entrance - letting out a happy noise as a car backs out.

Car in park, he turns to look at you. “Can I say something? Not on the clock.”

Your heart skips a little. “Sure.”

“Minho is an asshole.” You smile, looking down at your hands folded in your lap. “And you’re going to get through dinner just fine because he’s an asshole, and you’re not.”

“Are you sure?”

His laugh is full. “I’m actually pretty confident in this. And if he does ask us to kiss, you have my full consent to lay one on me. Come on.”

You wish you felt as confident as Hansol seems. He slides out of the car easily, coming around to your side as you get out. He reaches out a hand almost instinctively, waiting for you to grab it. You look at him in surprise to find that he looks equally stunned at his own gesture.

Grinning, you take his hand. It’s warm in yours and he gives you a squeeze as you drop your linked fingers between you, walking toward the establishment like a real couple.

It feels real. You’re not sure what to do with that. The sudden realization of it churns in your stomach as you approach the dark interior of the steakhouse, immediately hit with a romantic ambiance that feels far too big for this tiny thing brewing inside of you.

Twelvefold? How many times have you suffered since that first day you ran into Hansol at the bookstore? You think it might continue through the evening, especially when he glances over at you on the way to the table to check on you, hand tightening for a split second.

As soon as you spot Minho and Mina, you’re glad that Hansol has a steady grip on you. Mina’s glossy hair is nearly blinding under the glow of the soft lighting and her smile is brighter still. You almost want to shield your eyes as they wave you over.

Neither of them seems to know if they should stand and greet you or what the protocol is. Good, you think, happy to see them as off kilter as you feel by this very weird and very unnecessary dinner date.

Why had Hansol agreed to do this again?

“She keep you late?” Minho asks Hansol, immediately reminding you why Hansol had said yes in the first place: he seemed kind of smug. I thought it was annoying. “You’ll get used to it!”

“Actually, it was me,” Hansol answers smoothly. He pulls out your chair for you, startling you again. You try to fein admiration - it’s not hard - and sit, looking up at him with a little bit of awe. Hansol sits, adjusting his seat so that it’s a little closer to yours. “I was working on an infrastructure request and lost track of time.”

That seems to shut Minho up for a moment. Then he laughs his businessman laugh and you wonder if it’s always sounded that way, hollow and fake and… well, annoying. “Damn, so you’re both like that?”

“Yep.” Hansol leans back in his chair, stretching his arm so that it rests over the back of yours. He doesn’t explicitly touch you, but you feel the warmth of him radiating like a furnace, a shiver snaking through you at how close he is. “Works well for us.”

You try not to frown. He’s not going to make it easy for your fake breakup. You’d assumed that you’d tell everyone you just didn’t have time for him, but with the way he’s talking to Minho now, you’re worried it’ll make the impending breakup a little less believable.

“That’s good, then,” Minho says eventually. “Just don’t schedule any vacations or you’ll both miss it.”

“I never did that,” you scowl.

Before he has time for a rebuttal, the server is there welcoming you to the restaurant. You shift in your seat, feeling irritated. Hansol senses it, the tips of his finger brushing against your bicep as if to tell you it’s okay. You relax, but only a little, still frustrated.

Again, you can’t help but feel like your faults are being exacerbated, like Minho is drawing them up to be far grander than they really were. You had missed some dinners and cancelled on some things, but you’d never gone as far as to miss a vacation or a birthday - never the big things. Never the milestones.

If the server can tell the energy at the table has shifted, they don’t let on. They pour glasses of wine that you let Hansol order while you’re spiraling in your head, and leave with the promise of coming back to take orders when the table is ready.

It’s Mina who restarts the conversation, glancing at Minho who sucks down the entire glass of wine in a single go. “So,” she says. “What is it exactly that you do?”

“Careful with that question,” Minho jokes. “She’ll talk to you about work for hours.”

“Which is what makes her good at her job.” Hansol’s voice is even. Smooth. Almost severe, a tone you’ve never heard from him before. Tension ripples from him for just a moment before he looks at you and smiles. “Her job is very cool.”

Unlike her blockhead of a boyfriend, Mina seizes the chance for normalcy and asks, “Marketing, right?”

Mina (with the glossy hair) is really nice. You like her almost immediately and strangely enough, you’re glad she’s there. Minho is like a stormcloud at the edge of the table, a little pocket of pressure that everyone can feel but tries to ignore.

Hansol makes your fake relationship look effortless. You have to mask your surprise when he recounts a detail about you that you didn’t expect him to know, or makes an observation that has you warming, ducking your face to hide the smile tugging your lips.

You know little things about him too. It’s almost like you weren’t aware until you’re saying them, all the small things about him bubbling to your lips like an instinct.

“He’s such an Aquarius!” You laugh, finish the rest of your steak. “The IT department is full of them, even and they’re all so effortlessly cool and have different interests. Hansol has the coolest case full of Star Wars collectibles and-”

“Hansol?”

Minho’s question catches you off guard. You blink at him a few times, confused until Hansol interjects, “That’s my legal name.”

“Damn. Should we be calling you Hansol?”

“Nope. Reserved for my mom and my girlfriend.”

“Wow.”

Minho sits back and observes the two of you. The plates have been cleared away for the evening and the glasses of wine have dwindled. You’re a little sleepy, ready to go home, but the appraising look in Minho’s eyes as they flicker back and forth between you and Hansol has you on edge.

Hansol seems unbothered, finishing his water. His arm rests against your back properly now and you almost melt when his fingers start to trace a pattern on your arm, almost absently. You’re so acutely aware of him that you’re nearly vibrating, telling yourself over and over again that this is just him committing to the bit. This isn’t something to overthink. His touch is for show.

You don’t want it to be for show. God, you don’t want it to be, but you try not to let it unravel right now, instead finishing your water under the heavy and calculating gaze of your ex-boyfriend, who, over the course of dinner, has made you realize you are so grateful is your ex.

“Huh.”

“What?” you ask, voice coming out a little more challenging than you intend. He has that look on his face like he’s trying to figure something out, like he’s trying to position himself in a way where he’s not wrong.

“You guys are really together.”

That makes you stiffen. Hansol’s fingers go still on your arm. “What do you mean?”

“You just didn’t really seem like you were dating at the bookstore. It didn’t even seem like you knew who Vernon was.”

“It was still new,” You lie. “I also wasn’t expecting to run into you both. That’s all.”

“I guess. Just… find it surprising, I guess. Figured you’d never have time for someone.”

It’s Hansol who says, “She has plenty of time for me. Speaking of time, it’s time we head home. I have to finish up some stuff for work tomorrow and she just finished an insane project and deserves some sleep.”

Again, Minho seems thrown for a loop. You could get used to seeing him like a fish out of water, trying not to let an evil smirk take over your face when Hansol beats everyone to the check.

There is an edge to Hansol’s movements. You observe him quietly, noting the way his mouth is pinched at the corners and the way his eyes darken when he looks at Minho. But when he looks at you, it’s like the world stops. Hansol’s eyes soften and his lips turn up at the corner, a gentle smile for you.

Only you.

You’re fucked. You’re fucked fucked fucked and it’s nearly all you can think about as dinner wraps up and Minho and Mina thank Hansol for paying. You want to smack him for offering to pay for the insanely expensive bill, but he takes everything in stride.

Outside, it’s a little cold. Hansol shucks his jacket off immediately, wrapping it around your shoulders while giving Mina some sort of computer advice that goes over your head because all you can focus on is the way Hansol smoothes the jacket over your shoulder, his hand dropping to your waist to keep you close.

You’re dizzy with it. Dizzy with him. You can’t recall a single time you ever felt this affected by Minho, much less anyone else. Despite having two glasses of wine, you know it’s Hansol and not the wine that has you buzzing. Hansol who has you warm, Hansol who makes it feel like there’s static in your brain when he glances at you to make sure you’re still okay after you’ve gone silent.

Hansol gives you a quick smile and turns to say farewell to the other couple. You’re happy to say goodbye - though perhaps you should have asked Mina her haircare routine - and you wave as Hansol leads you into the parking lot, fingers intertwined.

He turns to you, making you look up at him. “I’m going to kiss you,” he murmurs, barely giving you a warning. “Unless you say no.”

“I - okay.”

There is the barest of smiles on Hansol’s face before he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. It’s brief and gentle, so quick that you barely register he’s kissed you at all. He’s already pulling away when you blink, nearing his car as he does.

“He was a dick,” Hansol explains. “And he was staring at us when we left. So. Let him question what’s real now.”

Minho isn’t the only one questioning what’s real. You’re hung up on the kiss, despite it being nothing more than a peck. Your mouth is warm, thoughts spinning as Hansol helps you into the car. You say nothing, completely consumed by the feel of his mouth, the smell of driftwood and salt, the barest taste of wine.

The drive home is quiet but not uncomfortable. Hansol’s hand grabs yours instinctually over the center console, fingers tied together loosely as he drives. But there’s no one to perform for her, no one to show off too. No one who needs convincing.

It’s just you and the burning desire for him bubbling up inside of you.

You’ve lost count of how many folds you have suffered, but somehow, this one is a little less worse than the others.

Hansol cannot stop thinking about you. He’s pretty sure the last time he had brain rot this bad about another person, it was Larcy Dodsen in his senior year of college who had blown him to heaven and back. He’s had better (and worse) blowjobs since then, and doesn’t really think of Larcy Dodsen ever anymore.

But you. You.

You occupy every corner of his mind. He wavers back and forth between thinking about the way you smell or the way you laugh (a little reedy, but cute) and thinking about how bad he fucked up by kissing you that night.

Things aren’t exactly weird. The very basis of your relationship - or lack thereof - is weird. He’d agreed to be your fake boyfriend for a month, but with zero terms. No contract outline. No do’s and don’ts. No guidelines. No rules. No regulations. Just an agreement and a fucking dream.

Now, he’s wishing he had something to go off of, because what started out as an agreement to help someone out has turned into something else entirely.

Chan was right. Hansol is desperately trying to hide that fact from his best friend, but the way Chan side-eyes Hansol at lunch when he stares off into the distance, he thinks that the younger man might be onto him.

It doesn’t help that Hansol is buried in Help Desk tickets the weekend following kissing you, and you’re six feet under in a pile of projects. It isn’t until he goes a few days without talking to you multiple times that it’s occurred to him how much he texts you during the day.

Hansol finds himself checking his phone again at lunch, swearing that he felt it vibrate. This time, Chan catches him, putting down the fork and clearing his throat to gesture at the phone. “So it happened, right?”

“What?” Even Hansol winces at his own defensiveness. “I can’t check the time?”

“Do you check the time three times every five minutes? I know you can do math.”

“Just checking to see how her presentation went.”

Chan laughs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Right. So it did happen.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

He doesn’t. Chan knows it. Hansol knows it. Chan gets more specific anyway. “You like her. As in, you have feelings for her after… well. This weekend will make it a month. So wouldn’t that be your deal coming to an end?”

Hansol wants to think about anything other than that. “Everything is fine.”

Chan holds up his hand, a white flag. “You’re an adult. You can do what you want. Just make sure you know what she wants too, is all I’m saying.”

And that’s the crux of it. Hansol isn’t sure what you want. He assumed that you just wanted to get through this month and your fake breakup, but now he’s not so sure. He thinks of the way you’d look at him during dinner last weekend, the way your expression gets dreamy with a soft smile, eyes glowing.

Hansol doesn’t think he made it up - his creativity is good but not that good. He had been so sure that you felt something too, swears that you melted into him every time he touched you, every time he turned to check in on you.

And the kiss… it had been brief and born from wanting to rub it in Minho’s face, but Hansol had wanted to do it, too. Wanted it for himself. Wanted to allow himself a single, greedy thing. You’d been surprised but leaned into him, almost instinctual. It had been so short but it haunts his dreams, the phantom press of your mouth keeping him up late at night.

Even now, Hansol’s fingers trace his mouth, as though he can remember the feeling of your mouth against his. So maybe Chan is right. Hansol likes you - has feelings for you. There is a lingering sense that you might too, but he’s not sure.

He needs to be sure.

Finding a window to make sure, is tough, though. He only hears from you once throughout the rest of the day, and it's to shoot him a quick text that the presentation was moved to Monday and that you have to work all weekend on it.

He feels more disappointed than he lets on. He wonders if you remember his birthday is on Saturday. Not that you owe him that since you’re not actually dating, but in a perfect world Hansol thinks it might have been a good day to tell you how he feels. That he kind of wants to make this thing real.

On the bright side, you do remember his birthday. On the shitty side, he can’t spend it with you. You’re working on your presentation for the foreseeable future, and Hansol had hesitated to make plans with his friends knowing some of them were celebrating Valentine’s Day late with their partners and because he’d hoped to maybe spend it with you.

It feels stupid, thinking about it now. Of course you weren’t going to spend it with him. He knew what this was when he offered to do it. You were a bright burning star at the top of the company, and Hansol had been someone you barely registered.

By the afternoon, he’s still sullen. He’s thinking about just spending the evening eating pizza and playing video games online where he’ll get bullied by a bunch of high schoolers when he hears his phone ring and your name flashes across the screen.

Hansol’s heart soars. He all but throws the control across the room, diving to pick up the phone and answer, “Hi!”

“Please don’t hate me,” you rush out, completely out of breath. “I am panicking right now. My work laptop randomly got the blue screen of death and I’m in the middle of my project and-”

“I’ll come look at it.” He cringes, realizing how down bad he is. It’s his birthday and he shouldn’t have to work, but he’d rather come solve a problem for you than have a bunch of thirteen year old’s tell him that they’re fucking his mom. “I can come over in fifteen.”

“Oh! Uh… can you make that twenty?”

Weird. “Sure?”

“Great! Text me when you’re here and I’ll give you the unit number.”

Twenty minutes ends up being perfect, because Hansol goes through the mental anguish of what to wear, which is new for him. He showers as quickly and efficiently as he can, hopping with one leg in his jeans and the other missing the hole multiple times. He nearly runs into the wall as he’s pulling on a band tee over his head while also looking for his flannel.

Hair still damp, he pulls on a hat and twists it around backward, grabbing his glasses because he doesn’t feel like wearing contacts (and because you said you liked them) as he barrels out the house, radiating with nervous energy.

Hansol wonders if it’s appropriate to tell you how he feels today. It will be face to face but… no. You’d sounded stressed on the phone and he knows how important this presentation is for you, despite not knowing what it’s about.

He barely remembers the drive to your apartment, blinking and realizing he’s parked and texting you that he’s there. You give him directions to your unit and with shaky hands, Hansol turns off the car. He takes a few steadying breaths before getting out and heading to the stairs, his heart hammering with each step.

When he finally gets to your door, he double checks that it's the right one. His hands shake when he knocks, and he has to remind himself several times that he’s just here to fix your computer. Sure, he’s thrilled that he gets to see you, but this is on the clock. Not off.

You’re breathless when you open the door. “Hi!” You say a little too loudly. He raises his brows but you open the door and step aside, ushering him in. “Come on in.”

Hansol gives you an amused grin as he walks into your apartment. He’s confused as to why it’s completely dark, a question that he’s about to ask you as you shut the door, but you flick on the lights and he’s met with the world’s loudest shout of surprise he’s ever heard.

He flinches, hand flying to his chest in terror as the lights flood on and Hansol realizes that the reason they were off is to hide the obscene amount of Star Wars decorations covering every part of your apartment. He can’t even picture what your home is supposed to look like, just that it’s covered in streamers and paper Luke Skywalkers and RD-D2s, and filled with familiar faces.

Hansol’s mouth pops open as the crowd screams at him. Chan and Seokmin are at the forefront, phones in hand capturing Hansol as he stands there, dumbfounded. Soongyoung and Mingyu are blowing through noise makers with so much force that the paper on them breaks, and Seungkwan is leading an off-key rendition of happy birthday with Hansol’s friends you’ve never even met.

Slowly, Hansol turns to look at you. You’re standing behind him, hands clasped nervously and tucked under your chin as you watch him, terrified. You’re chewing on your lips, entire frame vibrating with energy.

He wants nothing more than to walk over to you and kiss you stupid. The flame of desire that licks through him is borderline impossible to tamp down, staring at you like the eighth world wonder as you slip over to him, scanning his face.

“Surprise?” You squeak.

“You did this for me?”

“Well, yeah.”

You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He wants to pin you against the island counter behind you, but it’s fill with food and beverages and blue fucking milk. “Is that okay?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

Hansol softens and starts to laugh. “Yeah,” he shakes his head. “It is more than okay.”

Before he can say anything else, the crowd of people crashes into him. Seokmin and Chan are screaming in his ear, grabbing him and yelling for shots. Mingyu and Soonyoung are chanting his name and his best friend from college manages to squeeze in and give him a hug and a birthday greeting.

How did you even know Minghao existed? Or how to contact him? Hansol has no idea, but before he can ask you any questions about the how or the why, he’s swept into your kitchen for birthday celebrations he thought would never happen, orchestrated by the single person he wanted to see most.

Fuck was Chan right more than ever.

The thing about being a bad liar is that you found it nearly impossible to hide what you were doing from Hansol. The thing about everyone thinking you’re always busy, is that it was an easy facade to shield the sheer stress of trying to plan a surprise party for him.

Your apartment is filled with more people than you’ve ever dared to let inside. It makes you a little nervous for all of these people to see this new part of you, but with a little bit of rum and the released pressure of Hansol looking like he’s enjoying himself, you decide it’s worth it.

Squished in the corner of your couch, you watch as Chan leads a game of cards that he is losing very badly at. Most of these people in your apartment are casual friends, with the exception of Seungkwan who is playing DJ in the kitchen, but they’re all friends that Hansol would want at a celebration for him.

At least, that’s what Chan and Seokmin said. Recruiting them had been pretty easy, but during the process of them helping you plan this, you’re pretty sure they’ve caught on to the AT-AT Walker-sized elephant in the room: you are very much into their friend. In a very Not-On-The-Clock appropriate way.

Now, you watch as Hansol makes his way over to you, dodging people who stop to talk to him. He seems pretty determined to reach you, clapping someone on the shoulder and moving them aside to continue his journey to you.

Your stomach flips when he sits on the arm of your couch, perched perfectly next to you. He looks good today, dressed in jeans, a soft looking tee and a flannel. The backwards hat does wonders for you - which you will not be psychoanalyzing now - and his black frame glasses.

“How did you do all this?” He asks, shaking his head in wonder. “I just… what?”

“It wasn’t easy, but it worked, right?”

“Is this the presentation you’ve been working on all week?”

“Yes. Please don’t be mad at me for lying.”

He laughs. “I couldn’t be mad at you if I tried.”

An argument breaks out over cards, Chan and Mingyu yelling at each other about someone cheating. Hansol winces at the noise and you scoot a little closer to avoid the deck of cards Mingyu throws in Chan’s direction.

“Is there anywhere quiet we can talk?” Hansol asks, though he’s laughing at them. “They’re giving me a bit of a headache.”

You grin. “For sure.”

Getting up, you lead Hansol down the hall to your bedroom, which is off limits to the rest of the party. The good thing about adult festivities is that no one is a weirdo about going into rooms they shouldn’t, staying exactly where it’s appropriate to be.

Shutting the door behind you, the noise of the party dies down immediately. It’s dark in your room, save for the single lamp burning in the corner at a low setting. You realize it’s a bit messy, apologizing to Hansol as you kick clothes out of the way. You hadn’t intended on bringing him in here, and suddenly the implication of Hansol standing in your room tingles down your spine.

“I, uh-” You stammer, looking at him. “Sorry it’s a mess. I didn’t intend on anyone seeing this.”

Halloween yowls, getting up off your bed. Hansol makes a surprised sound and you apoogize again, “It’s just Halloween. He likes to sleep in here. Out, kitty!”

You open the door and Halloween bolts out, going to find Seungkwan who will give him snacks.

Hansol grins and wanders over to the bookshelf, looking over the titles. You take a few steps to follow him but keep your distance, suddenly very nervous. He points his finger at a title and looks at you, inviting you to step closer to read it in the dim light.

You recognize the title - you’d bought it the day you’d crashed into him and got some of your books mixed up.

“This one one of the books you accidentally swapped with me,” Hansol notes, running his finger along the spine. You zero in on his finger - his hands, in general. They’re pretty. You swallow hard, looking up at the ceiling instead. “Have you read it yet?”

“Not yet. I started one of the others but I’ve been having trouble breeding - reading lately.”

Hansol presses his lips together in a flat line and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh at you. Warmth floods your face and you want to die on the spot, especially when he turns to face you head on, leaning against your bookcase.

His eyes are dark, drinking you in. Your pulse skyrockets, thinking about that quick kiss he had given you the other night. It’s all you’ve been able to think about, too afraid to ask him if it was just for show and too busy trying to plan this party to work out what to say about it.

Now, alone in your room, the questions fizzle on your tongue at the nearness of him.

“Thank you,” Hansol says eventually. “For planning this. I… would never have expected you to do that.”

“I wanted to celebrate you.”

He blushes, ducking his head. “It’s sweet. It did make me nervous, though.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were avoiding me, kind of.”

You blink. “Why on earth would I be doing that?”

“Thought that maybe I took it too far with the kiss.”

“No. You didn’t.”

Hansol’s gaze falls on you. It’s razor sharp and there’s something there, burning just under the surface. You swear it’s something like desire, but you’re too afraid to name it. Too worried that it’s just what you want reflected in his glassy gaze, and not his.

Then, “Did I not take it far enough?”

The question hangs in the air. You cannot hear anything but the pounding of your own heart. It’s just Hansol in this dark room with you, looking at you with exactly the same hunger that’s been churning in your gut.

You don’t know when this hunger started. All you know is that the last few weeks, it’s been there. Every time you look at him you feel it ignite, the desire so raw that you don’t know what to do with it.

Now, you know he feels it too - see it, in the way he waits for your answer. Patient. Calm. Steady.

“On the clock?” You ask, voice shaky. He shakes his head no. “You could go further.”

That’s all Hansol needs. He’s gentle when he reaches for you, cradling your face in his hands. You barely get to suck in a trembling breath before he’s kissing you.

This kiss is entirely different from the peck he gave you in the parking lot last weekend. This kiss steals the breath from your lung, his mouth confident and sure as he slots his mouth against yours. He smells like the sea, all driftwood and salt and his lips taste like the tangy drink he’d been sipping on earlier.

Everything else fades to the background. Your hands twist in his flannel. It’s soft, but nothing compared to the softness of Hansol’s tongue as he licks at the seam of your lips. You let him in and he groans, pulling you in impossibly closer as the kiss turns more desperate.

You melt. He kisses you hungrily now, sucking your tongue into his mouth. It makes your head spin, the party long forgotten as you press further into him. The bookshelf wobbles under the weight of both of you leaning against it, making you break, both of you panting.

Hansol’s mouth shines with your spit in the low lamp light and you have the urge to lean forward and lick it. You resist, only for him to give into his urge. He leans forward, tongue pressing to the corner of your mouth gently.

“What about now?” he mumbles, voice muffled against your mouth. “Too far?”

“No.”

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, hands dropping to your waist. You let him grip you, backing you up toward your bed. It’s a bit clumsy but you don’t care, hands looping around his neck to keep him close.

“Tell me what you want,” Hansol mumbles. Your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall backward. He follows you, caging you in with both of his planted on either side of your head. “Tell me how far you want me to go.”

“On the clock?”

“Fuck no. Nothing I want to do right now is on the clock.”

“Good. I want you to go as far as you want.”

He drops his mouth to your neck. A moan slips between your lips when you feel his tongue scrape across the soft skin of your throat. He sounds strained when he says, “You gotta tell me, baby. I need to know what you want.”

“You.” It’s the most honest thing you’ve said all month. “All of it. Everything. But for real.”

Hansol nods. He presses messy, wet kisses up your neck, along your jaw, stopping at your mouth. His nose nudges yours and he smiles against your lips, giving you a chaste peck. “You’ve got me. For real.”

Grinning, you slide your hands underneath his shirt. He moans, throaty and delicious. He twitches under your exploration but he lets you brush your palms up the warmth of his stomach, reaching around until your hands are gripping his lower back.

His mouth attaches to yours again. The kiss is messy and addictive, Hansol filling your senses as he lowers himself so that his weight is rested on top of you. It’s comforting and wanted, your knees squeezing his hips to hold him in place.

One of his hands leaves the mattress to drop to your hip, squeezing before he scratches his nails against your thigh. You shiver, feeling the stimulation through your jeans. His hand slips under you, gripping the curve of your ass to lift you a little, pressing you closer to him.

A moan slips through your mouth to his when he rolls your hips against him. The stimulation isn’t remotely enough but you like this version of Hansol. His touch is confident, his lips intentful as they leave a trail from your mouth to your collarbone.

With one last squeeze to your ass, Hansol traces his fingers over the tops of your thigh to drop between your legs. He presses his fingers to the apex of your thighs, working you through your clothes. You let out a desperate sound and you feel the way he smiles against your skin.

His touch sparks a flame. You tear at his flannel, peeling it from his shoulders. He helps you get it off of him but he’s just as eager to peel you out of your jeans and shirt. A deep curse leaves his mouth when he sees you in just a bra and underwear, your chest heaving as you pant, staring up at him, mouth swollen and tender.

Reaching for him, you grab the hat and throw it. “Hat is very hot,” you admit. “But I wanted to do this.”

You slide your fingers in his hair, curling them through the strands to tug him back to you. He smiles into the kiss, tangling his tongue with yours. His hand skims up your thigh, fingers leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes until he slides his hand back between your legs.

A gasp leaves you as he presses his fingers back to your cunt, pressing the fabric into your aching clit. He whispers a string of curses when he feels how damp you are, resting his forehead against your shoulder for a moment as he teases you over your panties.

“Please,” you whisper, hips rising off the bed. “Want more.”

“Mhmm.” He lifts his head and gives you a quick kiss to the cheek. “I’ve got you.”

Hansol doesn’t make you beg. You like that about him. Your breath catches when he drops to his knees, reaching his arm up to pull the back of his shirt over his head, tossing it. The sight of him between your knees in just jeans, his hair mussed and mouth swollen is enough to make you dizzy.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching with hooded eyes as Hansol grabs you by the calves, spreading you a little more. His hands are gentle and warm, rubbing up and down while he takes his time pressing a myriad of kisses up the right side of your inner thigh.

It feels so good. Your lashes flutter a little, breath coming in quicker. Everywhere his mouth touches tingles, a little path of buzzing electricity as he makes his way closer and closer to your heat until he switches sides.

You make a sound of protest and Hansol looks up at you through his lashes, grinning. He looks smug, leaning forward to bite your thigh playfully. It stings but it feels good, making your fingers twist in the sheets.

“Feel good?” he whispers, pressing his tongue to soothe the sting. You nod, mouth parted, unable to speak. He smiles again, dragging his tongue down your thigh. You think you might die right there.

Hansol makes his way back up. He drags his burning gaze up to meet yours, deliberately making eye contact as he presses the flat of his tongue against your underwear. If it wasn’t soaked before, it is thoroughly drenched now. You suck in a sharp breath, knees closing on instinct to squeeze against his shoulders.

He chuckles, dragging his tongue upward where it presses against your clit momentarily. He brings one of his hands up, pressing his middle finger right against your hole. You feel yourself clench around nothing and you know he knows, his grin wicked.

"What do you like?"

"I... don't know."

He looks at you, pausing. "You don't know? Like what makes you come?" You shake your head and realization lights his eyes. "That jackass didn't make you come, did it?"

You shake your head and he groans.

“Don’t worry,” Hansol promises with another languid lick to the soaked fabric. “I will make up for all the times you didn’t get to come.”

“Fuck.”

Vernon (from IT) has been replaced with Hansol (the Menace). He hooks a finger in the crotch of your underwear, pulling them to the side. He drags a knuckle against your pussy on purpose, both of you groaning in unison.

Eagerly Hansol leans forward, giving you a teasing lick. Your fingers dig into the mattress anyway. You can do nothing but stare at him, watching the way Hansol drags his dark eyes up to watch you as he drags his tongue through your folds again.

“Shit,” you hiss at him, a shiver wracking your body.

He seems pleased, shooting you a quick smile before he brings his mouth to you again, sucking gently. He avoids your clit at first, working you up slowly. Hansol eats you out like he has all the time in the world, like there’s no where he would rather be than tonguing your pussy.

It drives you mad, his name slipping from your lips in little gasps. His tongue circles your clit, applying pressure indirectly, working you up and up until finally, he closes his mouth around the throbbing bundle of nerves, suckling.

“Ohhhh,” you laugh, half delirious. “That. Whatever that is.”

He hums, parting only to say, “You got it.”

You see God when he fastens his mouth to you, sucking your clit gently. Dropping back against the bed, you twitch and gasp under Hansol’s ministrations. He sets a rhythm, adding his fingers to the mix as they press against your entrance. He doesn’t push in, but rather traces a pattern, making you squeeze.

Panting, you drop a hand to his hair. He hums in delight as you tangle your fingers in the strands, bringing him closer to your cunt. You feel like you’re burning up, your sheets sticking to your skin, the room spinning as Hansol eats you out in earnest now.

No one has ever seemed this dedicated to your pleasure. He doesn’t let up for a second, fingers and mouth working in tandem to bring you to a cliff of insanity. All you have to do is jump and dive head first into an orgasm.

You do. Hansol works you right to the very edge and you topple over, falling into it hard. You go taught but he holds you down, fighting your spasm as you come hard. He doesn’t miss a beat, the obscene sounds of him slurping at you drowning out the pitiful, high pitched whine that leaves you.

In a wave of exhaustion, your orgasm subsides. You flop on the bed, still shaking as he removes his mouth in favor of pressing slick, cum-stained kisses to your thighs. You lift your head and his eyes meet yours, flashing wickedly.

He pauses, looking at your wet, messy cunt back to your face. “Want a taste?”

Hansol (the Menace) is going to kill you.

You nod and he smirks. He runs his tongue generously up your pussy, making sure to dip into your entrance just a little before he stands up and leans over you to press a filthy kiss to your mouth. You suck at his tongue greedily, tasting yourself and him, a combination you’ll never get tired of.

One of his hands snakes up to your chest, tweaking a nipple gently, testing the waters. You nod, breaking the kiss with a gasp, “Yeah.”

“Gonna work you open with my fingers,” he slurs. He kisses down your neck again, working his way to your chest. “That okay?”

“More than okay.”

“God,” he whispers. “You sound so fucking good when you come. Want to hear it again.”

There is no doubt he will. Hansol rids you of your bra before returning to suck greedily at your chest. Your nails bite into his shoulders, dragging down his sides as he presses a finger into your warmth.

“God damn,” he laughs. He plucks at a nipple with his teeth and you curse. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“On the clock?”

“Fuck no. My finger is in your pussy.”

“I am really turned on.”

He gives your other breast a playful bite. “Good. Now I want you to come apart on my fingers.”

That won’t be an issue. Hansol gets you there embarrassingly fast. He finds the sensitive spot inside of you with ease and doesn’t hold back, pressing another finger in. He works you toward another orgasm like it's easy - and maybe for the both of you, it is. Maybe Hansol was meant to have you like this, gushing around his fingers and babbling nonsense as you come again, his mouth pressed against your hammering heart.

Maybe he was meant to have you fucked out and light-headed by the time you’re helping him out of his jeans, sliding his briefs down his muscular thighs to free his cock. The tip is dark and sticky, weeping with precum when he pins you to the bed, catching you in a bruising kiss.

Gone is the patient Hansol who had started with gentle kisses to your thighs, replaced by his need to have you. To consume you. You let him, willing to let him do whatever he wants. You want his pleasure just as much as he wants yours, slipping your hand between your bodies to palm his cock, heavy and warm in your hand.

He whispers your name and it sounds like a prayer. His forehead presses against yours, letting you pump him slowly. His hips twitch as though he’s fighting to control himself, letting you have your fun before he growls and grabs your hand, lacing your fingers to pin above your head.

Hansol scoots you up the bed, putting you where he wants you. Gone is the sweet guy from IT, replaced with whatever this is. You like this side of him equally, listening to him when he asks you to lift your hips so he can slide a pillow under your ass.

With a kiss to your brow that feels sweeter than the moment allows for, Hansol lifts your leg, prying you open for him. His cock is heavy against your cunt and he ruts a little, making you both whine in tandem.

“You still want this, right?” He asks, voice shaking. “For real?”

“Yes.” You squeeze the hand he has laced with yours, pinned to the mattress near your head. “On the clock. Off the clock. Literally all of the hours.”

“What if I refuse to change your computer password?”

That makes you laugh. He gives you a glowing smile, kissing the tops of your cheekbones. “Even then,” you promise.

“Good. Try breathing for me when you come this time.” You give him a look and he smiles. “Did you think you were done? I told you I was making up for lost time.”

He doesn’t give you a second to retort, his cock pressing in at that exact moment. “Ohhh you fucker,” you moan and he laughs, which makes things worse. You squeeze around him hard, barely breathing as Hansol slides in to the hilt, the pressure and stretch divine. “You did that on purpose.”

“I did,” he admits before trapping you into an uncoordinated kiss.

With one hand holding yours to the bed and the other sliding under your ass to help lift you with the pillow, Hansol sets a slow pace. You continue to kiss him, just as slow as he fucks you. He is deep, cock brushing against your g-spot on every upstroke.

Your free hand slides to his lower back, urging him to keep going. His tempo is measured, perfect, the angle of his hips just right. You start to feel insane, mumbling his name, whining between kisses, making a pathetic noise when he increases his pace.

Hansol fucks like he knows exactly how you like it. Of course he does. Even from the moment in that bookstore, he had you figured out. No one else has been able to adjust to you like he has, no one else has been able to understand - to see you.

“Fuck,” he hisses when you start squeezing on him for harder and longer. He’s pushing you toward that edge again, so close you’re already seeing stars. “Pussy feels so good.”

He shuffles up the bed more, folding you a little. You make a wild sound, gasping as the angle pushes his cock in deep. “Holy shit, Hansol.”

“That the spot?” he asks, and you nod. He starts fucking you in earnest, pace picking up. “God damn I could do this all day.”

“Keep doing that and I’ll let you.”

He laughs and kisses you again, all tongue and teeth. You start to spasm, feeling the way your muscles clench as you near your third orgasm. This one is tight in your stomach, a pressure that is so compact you feel like you’re going to combust.

“Breathe through it,” he reminds you, out of breath as he chases your high. “You can do that, yeah?”

You nod, saving your breath for when he tells you to use it.

A few more hard strokes and you’re doing exactly as instructed, taking in a deep breath as your orgasm hits. You see white, shaking underneath Hansol as the warmth of your high blooms in your lower stomach and expands. It’s better than the first two, stretching longer, the feeling reaching to your toes.

You manage to breathe all the way through it, barely hanging on as he fucks you through the entire length of your high. He presses his mouth to your temple, slowing his pace to let you recover. You feel melted, like your bones and muscles have all gone on vacation, leaving Hansol to do the work for you.

“Good?” he asks, breath fanning your face.

You nod and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close. “You,” you mumble. It’s not a complete sentence, but he gets what you mean, kissing you quickly before chasing his own high, gritting his teeth.

As spent as you are, you do your part to help him get there, squeezing with what strength you have left, whispering his name, pulling him in close with a leg around his hip. It works, sending Hansol over the edge and spilling into you within a few seconds.

He curses into your shoulder, pace turning sloppy until he finally stops, hips pressed to yours, cock sheathed to the hilt. Both of you stay like that, trying to catch your breath in a sweaty pile of limbs.

Hansol recovers first, shifting so that he can lay next to you. He pulls out, a mess of cum and fluid going with him. You don’t care, rolling to your side to kiss him slowly. Softly. He rests an arm over your hip, keeping you connected.

“This is a great birthday,” he jokes, voice hoarse. “I uhhh, forgot there was a party. No one will think we’re fake dating now.”

You grin. “Whatever. We’re not on the clock.”

He kisses you again. “Thank god. Cause I really want to do this again in fifteen minutes.”

You smile, really glad that Hansol (the Boyfriend) is on the same page as you.

PERMANENT TAGS

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy@thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy@gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @bultaereume@yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries@archivistworld @asyre @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona@beckyloveshannie @imujings @do-you-remember-summer-127 @jbluen@mingumis @kimsaerom @imlonelydontsendhelp

FIC TAGS

@christinewithluv @syluslittlecrows @avyskai @sheilogreen @j-onepostzz @beomcoups

#lonelyheartscafecollab #vernon smut #hansol smut #chwe vernon smut #chwe hansol smut #hansol x reader #vernon x reader #svt smut #svt fic #vernon x you #vernon angst #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader

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ohmybueckers · 2 months ago

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big ole freak - paige bueckers x reader

Summary: you're Paige's sneaky link and have her absolutely wrapped around your finger

Themes & Warnings: kinda sub Paige, driving while intoxicated (this is NOT an endorsement please do NOT do this), car sex, light choking kink, strap-on sex, oral sex, slight degradation, maybe one line of breeding kink, filth, like actual filth (with like a little bit of fluff at the end)

Author's Note: inspired by big ole freak by my mother megan thee stallion y'all i've had this idea brewing for a month so glad it's finally out in the world. special shoutout to my uconn hot girl twin @sierrale8ne and all the other hotties out there. In the wise words of meg... "your honor, i'm a freak bitch." happy reading <3

“He hit my phone with a horse

So I know that mean come over and ride it”

Wednesday nights were hit or miss at UConn - either you loaded all of your courses on Monday and Wednesday and had the night to chill, or you were prepping for a horrendous end to your week. You were in the former category, deciding to attend a party hosted by a friend of a friend you hardly knew - labelled a “wine Wednesday” party to anyone who asked why the fuck anyone would throw on a weeknight that wasn’t Thursday.

You maybe made it through one glass of cheap rose before your night evolved how most nights ended up in the not-so-bustling town of Storrs, Connecticut: sitting out by the fire pit of the beaten down rental house with your friends in a circle, passing a joint around and talking shit (about professors, exes, parents… no one was off limits in the rotation) under the glow of some poorly strung lights.

Though you hadn’t touched another glass since your first inhale, knowing that you were not risking getting crossfaded tonight, it didn’t help much. You always seemed to forget that weed and parties did not mix well for you. Every sound felt heightened yet muffled at the same time, from the bass of the music to the conversation your friends were having around you. Your skin burned, heat flooding down your back in a way that almost made you squirm.

You needed an out, and soon.

Your savior came in the form of two buzzes in quick succession from your phone on your lap. Though you typically aimed at staying present when surrounded by others, you ruled this as a worthy exception. You lifted it, immediately shifting it away from your friends’ view as you read the texts from the all too familiar contact.

Paige: wyd rn?

Paige: wanna see you tonight pretty girl

“Nobody know, I fuck with him on the low”

If you told the version of yourself two months ago that you would end up fucking Paige Bueckers, she would have laughed in your face. It was no secret to anyone in your friend group, many of whom had come in close contact with UConn athletes, that she had an extensive history, none of them sticking around for longer than a couple of nights. You refused to be yet another victim to community dick (in this case, community strap). Maybe you would be a little less put off by the idea of getting with someone with a reputation like Paige if she wasn’t so cocky about it, like she got off on the idea that girls were obsessed with her.

And then the two of you met on a night out at Ted’s, where she insisted on buying your drink (you told your friends afterwards that you let her for economical reasons). You attempted to stick with your friends that night, tired of your past filled with messy hookups that never led anywhere, but of course they all decided to mingle with the basketball team. Meaning Paige had the rest of the night to throw looks your way, practically eye fucking you. You hated to admit it, but you understood why girls were into Paige beyond aesthetic reasons: she was incredibly witty, quick to poke gentle fun at her friends while also making jokes about herself. Though it was clear in the few times she brought it up she loved what she did, it didn’t feel like the entire conversation revolved around her being a basketball star. And you couldn’t deny the way her gaze made you feel, like you were the only person there. And you hated it.

When you allowed Paige to put her number in your phone, you would also insist that it was due to bragging rights and had no intention of contacting her again. And when you texted her that night with just your name, you almost convinced yourself it was just the polite thing to do.

The two of you texted frequently throughout the week, with some time between messages due to her busy practice schedule and your insistence on not seeming like an overly obsessed groupie. You didn’t need to fuel her ego, no matter how much her attempts at flirting caused an ache between your thighs and how many times you’ve resorted to nights alone in your room, a chorus of moans filling the space as images of blue eyes and toned arms overwhelm you. Sure, you wanted to fuck her. But one thing you knew: if it was happening, it was happening under your terms.

It finally did around a week later, after a great afternoon showing for the Huskies in Gampel Pavilion. You stood in the student section, watching her light up the court in ways very few people could. The crowd was electric with every assist she made to Azzi, every time she made a clean three point shot, and with every effort she made to hype up the crowd. She truly was in her element. you would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.

Still buzzed from your tailgate beforehand, you texted her to say congratulations, to which she responded with a trademark Paige Bueckers flirty comment. It was certainly not the first time she had attempted this with you, so you weren’t sure why this time was any different. Maybe it was the liquid courage, but before you could think twice, you replied.

“want me to show you how winners get treated?”

That’s how you ended the night tangled in Paige’s sheets and long, strong limbs. Basking in your post orgasm glow knowing that throughout the entire exchange you were in control, even when you were receiving. For the first time in a long, long time, a hookup felt good.

You and Paige continued texting, this time more frequently. You were fully expecting Paige to be the type to hit it and quit it, as she had done many times before, but having a taste of you just seemed to make her want you more. And yet you never told your friends about any of it. Not because you were ashamed or anything, but because you knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. It almost never did with athletes, even ones that kiss your forehead and text you good morning every day. Though you were fully expecting it to end at some point, you really didn’t want to deal with your friends making it a huge deal. Even if there was a little part of you, a voice in your head you did everything to silence, that told you maybe you didn’t want her to go.

“We never show up together but I text him when I'm ready to go”

A half assed excuse left your lips as you walked away from the couch circle and closer to the trees, far enough away so nobody would hear when you pressed an all too familiar contact and made the call. The phone hardly needed to ring one time before her end of the line was overwhelmed by a cacophony of loud voices. Unless your ears were deceiving you, you swore you could hear KK scream “liar!” at someone

“Hey pretty gir- aye! Be quiet one moment!” Her attempt at being quiet quickly escalated to a yell, presumably at one of her teammates, before returning to your conversation with an apologetic tone, “Sorry, I’m at Aubrey’s.”

Why the UConn girls were seemingly partying on a Wednesday night was beyond your comprehension, but it was honestly the last thing on your mind in that moment. “‘Wanna see you tonight’, huh? Tryin to ditch your teammates?”

“They’re all too invested in Mario Party to care. Besides,” She paused, her voice getting quieter (and unless you were hearing things wrong, more vulnerable), “It’s worth it for you.”

You knew what you wanted, and boy you were going to get it. With a sickly sweet grin you asked, “Pick me up in ten?”

“I had a couple of shots at the bar

I'm finna play with that dick in the car"

You knew the second you shut the door to Paige’s car and kissed her that she had been drinking that night, the presence of liquor on her lips. You would be so ready to scold her for driving under the influence, tell her she should not play with her life like that, if you weren’t also just appreciative for any out you could get. Besides, as long as she was telling the truth, she was only a couple shots deep. The weed in your system had dulled down at this point, and instead of feeling overwhelmed from the noise around you, you were overwhelmed by the urge to have Paige the way you wanted to. especially with how she looked now, glasses on and hair thrown into a messy ponytail, silver chain accessorizing her sweat set. God, you didn’t even know if you could make it to her bed.

“This new?” She asks about two minutes into the twelve minute drive, gesturing to your top. It was an old one, found in the bottom of one of your bins of clothes while you were searching for a going out top that would allow you to put off doing laundry for another day. It worked well enough - a simple crop top with a flattering neckline. “Looks really good.”

“Nah, kept it from freshman year,” You replied, head braced by your arm against the side of the car staring at the girl next to you. Paige had a grip on her steering wheel, eyes focused on the practically empty roads leading to her apartment. A part of you was very thankful she was being cautious given the circumstances. But another part of you, a more sinister voice, wanted to try something.

Your manicured hands traced up your torso, your own touch nearly making you gasp. Damn, you really were that desperate. Your nails played with the hem of your shirt, gently pulling it up towards your breasts as the air conditioning hit more and more of your skin. “This is new though.”

Paige hit a red light, making a confused sound before her eyes met yours. They didn’t stay there long before trailing down, past your neck and to the bra that currently had your tits pushed to the sky, one hand reaching around to cup one as you licked your lips. Your top could hardly be considered one anymore, pooled at your collarbone as you continued touching yourself. You maintained your gaze, looking at the blonde like she was prey as her tongue met her cheek inside her mouth, a loud swallow going down her throat.

When she finally spoke, it was a breathless chuckle that revealed just what kind of effect you had on her as she shook her head. “You’re something else.”

The green light flashed into the car, prompting her to return her gaze back to the road and press on the gas. Google Maps said you were eight minutes away, but judging by the way your finger was tracing around your bra covered nipple, you weren’t sure if you could wait that long. And if the way Paige’s eyes were bugging out of her head at the road attempting to not look at you were any indication, you knew she felt the same. “Paige?”

“Mhmm?” She asked through gritted teeth, hanging on to her last thread of self control.

“Pull over.”

————

“That’s it, just like that… fuck.”

You nodded in Paige’s pussy, nails grazing her thighs. The set up could be more ideal: All six feet of her were crammed in the backseat, sweats pooled at her ankles as you sat almost diagonal in order to have a more comfortable position. Neither of you really seemed to care all that much, too intoxicated off of each other and your respective substances. Besides, judging by the way Paige massaged your neck and whined, you wouldn’t be here long.

You only needed two more minutes eating Paige out like she was your last meal before her grip tightened at the back of your neck, cumming with a cry of your name. You ate her through it, slurping her up like ice cream before slowly rising, placing a kiss to her lips so she could taste herself. She hummed with contentment into the kiss, cupping your jaw tenderly. You separated, your smirk cocky as her hand traced back down your neck, feeling the soft material of your bra for herself. “So fucking pretty,” she whispered to herself, eyes trained on how the color of the garment made your skin look radiant. Her hands switched directions, gently tracing up before reaching your neck and applying pressure with hungry eyes.

“We’re going home. Need to see you cum on my dick now.”

“I'ma make him wait for the pussy

Hit it 'til he big ole skeet”

The rest of the car ride was uneventful, Paige keeping a grip on your thigh as music propelled you guys into her parking lot. When you reached her apartment, you were ready for the inevitable fight for dominance between the two of you. Instead, Paige merely hung her keys on her hook and moved to the kitchen. “Want any water?”

You almost laugh as you follow her in, as if she was pranking you. “What are you, all talk and no game?” You joke, still taking the offer. Despite drinking Paige up just moments prior, you were very aware of just how dry your mouth was.

Paige smirked, taking a sip of her own water before grazing your torso with her hands. “Just tryna be chivalrous, ma.”

You took a big gulp of water, allowing yourself to sink into the feeling of Paige’s touch before setting the glass down. “Don’t need all that,” You murmur, the pads of your fingers playing with the hem of Paige’s hoodie. You look up, maneuvering yourself so your lips were as close to her ear as possible before murmuring. “Just need you.”

“Oh yeah?” She teases, already beginning to back you towards her bedroom, her tall frame overwhelming yours. Now this is what you came here for: the feeling of her tongue slipping in your mouth as your lips collided, the feeling of her properly undressing you as soon as her door shut behind you, and the gravel in her voice as she commands you to “get on the bed”.

“You have no fucking idea how bad i’ve wanted this,” Paige growled, crawling above you and connecting your lips once more before peppering them down to your neck. You couldn’t help but sigh, deciding that you would put up with a million lackluster parties if they all ended like this.“These perfect tits.” She moved to toss your bra on her floor before licking around your nipple, sucking on your breast and surely leaving a mark - she always found a way to, much to your chagrin. You allowed yourself to take pleasure in the feeling for a moment, resting up before your next move. Because while you moments like these with Paige, there was no way in hell you were letting her think the dynamic switched.

With a swift move that even left yourself dumbfounded at your abilities , you hooked a leg around her and flipped the basketball player over, catching yourself with both hands on the mattress. Paige’s jaw dropped, equally shocked and impressed. “Woah.”

“I thought you’d figure out by now that I’m in charge here,” You quipped, gaining enough composure quickly to maintain the persona you wanted. You were going to fuck Paige just as much as she was fucking you. You quickly made the executive decision that Paige was wearing far too many clothes, gesturing her to raise her arms before moving to help her remove her hoodie leaving her in her sweats and a sports bra - very typical Paige attire. You nipped, kissed, and sucked above her chest in the areas not covered by the sports bra, careful to avoid her neck or any other areas that would be visible in a jersey. At one point, you took the chain she wore in your mouth, feeling the cold metal against your lips. Paige groaned, attempting to tug your mouth back on to hers by lifting you from your waist. You tsk, “Be patient.”

“You’re making patience really hard, sweetheart.” She states through gritted teeth, one hand moving to your hair and tugging to make a point. She was desperate tonight, just the way you liked her.

Deciding to give her a little taste of you, you sat up so only your ass made contact with her, sitting plush against her pelvis. Need to see you cum on my dick now, her voice repeated in your head. with a mischievous glint. Slowly, you began grinding your hips, your ass hitting against her. “This what you want?”

She threw her head back, realizing what you were mimicking. “Please.”

“Beg.”

You would think you said something far more outrageous the way she looked up at you, eyebrows raised. “You crazy? nah!”

Typical Paige, not one to give up without a fight. You knew all too well how this would end though.“Suit yourself.” You shrugged, continuing your actions from before, this time trailing a hand down your short skirt and lightly touching yourself through your panties.

“Fuck baby,” She swore she could feel how wet you were as you continued rolling your hips, giving her a preview of everything she could have if she just put her ego aside. “You’re killing me right now.”

“I think I know what would fix that,” you purred.

“Oh fuck,” her voice was almost strangled, any ounce of dignity she had quickly leaving her body and being replaced by the urge to make you feel good. Her eyes appeared as though they were welling up as she pleaded with you. “Please let me fuck you. Would do anything to make you feel good.”

A smile spread across your face, knowing you finally had her exactly where you wanted her. You paused your teasing, swinging your leg back aroundand reaching a standing position. Her eyes followed you, her gaze equally confused and frustrated, before she recognized the box you were reaching for in her drawer.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You asked, harness and dildo in hand as you sauntered back over to the bed.

“Ain't nobody freak like me

Give ya what you need like me

Ain't nobody got on they tip, tip toes and rode to the tip like me”

You were putting on a whole ass show for her. Your feet were positioned on each side of of her, providing stability as you bounced on her silicon dick like your life depended on it. Your tits bounced with each impact your bodies made. The room was quiet (save for the sound of both of your moans and the dull buzz of the vibrator against Paige within the strap), but it was like you were moving to a melody, alternating between fast moments of riding her and slower moments where you simply moved your hips, allowing yourself to bask in the pleasure.

Paige laid back against the pillows, practically mesmerized at the sight of you as you ran a hand through your hair, throwing your head back in the process. “Holy shit.”

“Any other girls fucking you like this, baby?” You don’t know why you felt the need to ask. For one, you were very confident in your abilities, and you also knew that Paige was likely still going home with other girls. It’s not a topic you ever cared enough to approach.

“No other girls anymore. None could make me cum like you,” Paige shook her head, moving to grab your waist and help facilitate your movements as if she was seeking any form of control she could get. “Riding my dick like a slut, baby, fuck.”

Your eyes wandered a bit, over to the collection of photographs on Paige’s wall, the number of awards given, all the way to one particular object. Your hips began to slow progressively until they came to a complete stop, prompting a disappointed groan from the blonde beneath you.

“Stand up. I wanna try something new.”

“I want to fuck in the mirror, I like to look at your face when you in it

Come in the room and I'm giving commands

I am the captain and he the lieutenant”

The sides of the chair you were gripping were cold, in contrast to the heat rushing through the rest of your body. Paige stood behind you, pounding into you from behind as the both of you took full advantage of the full length mirror beside you giving you a full view of everything - and by everything, you meant everything, from the way Paige’s hair looked entirely fucked out to the wetness dripping down her thighs.

Paige’s eyes squeezed shut, unable to handle the way your ass looked rippling against her, how your waist fit in her hands as she slammed you back, and she especially could not handle the way you were looking at her in the mirror. “Baby imma bust,” she moaned, her words slurred together. She was too drunk off of you.

“Hold it. I’m almost there,” you instructed, reaching down to rub circles around your clit. You were dripping, cream forming a ring around Paige’s strap. You moved your hips, twerking on her dick as you looked back at it. Paige was convinced in that moment that if it were not anatomically impossible, she would have absolutely accidentally knocked you up in that moment.

“Need to cum so bad, baby. You feel so good, so fucking fine.”

The warmth that once rushed through you from the joint was now accumulating to your core. It was all becoming too much, even more so when she slapped your hand away to help rub hard circles on you, her desperation a mix of wanting to be the reason you finished as well as the realization that she was going to blow any moment.

“Gonna cum.” You finally moan, feeling as though your legs may snap as you let go. Paige was not far behind, gripping your waist and burying her head in your neck as she pressed herself to the base inside of you.

“Usually I like to fuck

But tonight we gon' make love 'cause you bae”

You attempted to catch your breath as you laid down next to Paige. She had both hands on the sides of your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You’re so perfect,” She murmured, eyelids drooping as she fought the urge to pass out then and there. Her touch was less possessive this time and more tender, cupping your skin as if it were made of glass.

You let out a breathy laugh at her words, almost like you couldn’t believe them, yet you couldn’t stop the way your body nuzzled into hers further. “You’re just happy you got laid tonight,” You quipped.

“I don’t mean it like that. you know I don’t.”

Perhaps one of the most important rules of hooking up with an athlete, especially one as high profile as Paige, is to never believe a word they say. So you felt a little silly when you took note of how her blue eyes gazed at you, waking up enough to make eye contact to show you that this was the truth. It felt worse when you felt your heart skip a beat at the realization. In fact, it scared the hell out of you.

“Stay the night tonight,” She whispered. You had never heard her sound like that, so out of control and at your whim. She was scared too. “I don’t want you to leave.”

You nodded, pushing past the voice in your head screaming at you to run just as you had after every other night you and Paige shared. You were tired, and Paige was right there, and it was just not the time to listen to your head over your heart. “Okay.”

You would deal with logistics later. All you needed now was tonight.

#paige bueckers #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #wlw smut #Spotify

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starkeysbunny · 2 months ago

Text

awards season

pairing - drew starkey x interviewer!reader

summary - just bc drew is so fuckin flirty with everyone he talks to including interviewers.. like it looks like he falls in love w them every time. #whenisitmyturn. anyway. so drew being flirty as hell with a sweet interviewer on the oscar’s carpet <33 also i’m a film major and just love film so i got this idea in honor of awards seasonnn

warnings - flirting, lots of innuendoes 😝

“three, two, one.. and action.” the camera man says as he starts rolling. i smile brightly in my baby pink silk gown, my hair cascading down my shoulders, makeup perfectly done for the big night.

“hi vanity fair, i’m y/n and i’m your host tonight for the biggest night in film. welcome to the oscar’s! we had an amazing year in film, leading to a memorable awards season. we saw babygirl, wicked, nosferatu, queer, a complete unknown, the substance, and so many more.” i continue my introduction as the stars start to arrive.

i had been doing publicity and journalism in the film industry for about two years now and i got my first big gig tonight. the oscar’s with vanity fair. i mean, i couldn’t believe it. all the connections i could make tonight, it could be my big break.

but what was really in the back of my mind? the fact that my celebrity crush had been at the forefront of award season this year among many new break out actors.

drew starkey.

and i was scheduled to interview him in just a few minutes. safe to say, i was trying not to freak out.

i start off with an interview with nicole kidman, talking about babygirl. as it wraps up, she walks off to the next interviewer and i turn to the camera.

“okay, now that we just interviewed mother i’m not sure if anything will live up to it!” i gush with a smile. i look down the carpet and see who’s arriving next.

daniel craig and luca gaudagnino.

was i sweating? i think im sweating. shit.

this meant drew wasn’t far behind.

i turn to the camera, plastering a grin on my face. “okay, next we have drew starkey. he started with college student films, leading into small roles in feature films like love simon, then to his breakout netflix debut with the hit show outer banks. and now, he’s here for his first awards season run for his A24 film queer!” i introduce, as the camera pans over to him.

my jaw nearly drops.

he was wearing a navy blue loewe suit with a white button up under, and a navy blue bow tie. his hair was messy, his grown out—almost mullet—style complimented by the scruff on his jaw. he had sunglasses on, and as he approached the paparazzi, he pushed them up into his hair.

fans scream behind the barricade, as he smirks with a menacing grin, waving at a few of them.

he takes photos with the paparazzi, even flirting with a few of them.

i’ve seen his past interviews and you can tell he’s a bit of a flirt. which just makes my nerves peak even more.

i watch as he finishes with the paparazzi. his publicist comes to his side, pointing out me and the camera man next to me.

he grins, nodding slightly at us as he walks over.

“hey.” he says softly, sticking his hand out for me to shake. “i’m drew.” his blue eyes pierce into mine. he didn’t even glance at the camera yet, his focus purely on me.

“h-hi, drew. i’m y/n, and we’re with vanity fair.” i introduce, reaching my hand out to shake his. his much bigger hand enveloped mine, shaking lightly.

he lets go and glances at the camera, quirking a brow. “hey, vanity fair.” he chuckles lowly. he looks back at me, his tongue licking over his lips as he looks over my silk dress, then back up to my eyes.

god.

“so. drew, your first oscar’s!” i begin with a grin as i hand him a microphone for him to speak into. “are you nervous?”

he chuckles lightly as he looks down at the mic. it’s usually the microphone i would use, but we had a malfunction before the carpet and had to switch up the microphones.

“yeah, microphone malfunction, ignore it.” i chuckle softly. “yours is bigger than mine.”

he grins, his tongue poking to the inside of his cheek. “oh yeah?”

my eyes widen and i swallow roughly. a small, nervous chuckle escapes me. i should’ve worded that differently. shit.

he licks his lips and his eyes slightly squint as he notices my nerves at the slip up. “i am nervous. about all this.” he says softly. “terrified actually i- uh..” he trailed off, grinning almost like he was holding back.

i raise my eyebrows. “what is it?” i ask softly.

he looks back at me, “i’m just not sure if i should admit to a pretty girl like you that i called my mom in the hotel to talk me down before i got here.”

my cheeks tinge pink as he calls me pretty. focus. i chuckle softly. “no, hey we all need a little mom encouragement sometimes. it’s my first oscar’s too, so we’ll get through it together.”

he grins. “yeah, i hope so. sounds fun.”

i press my lips together in a giddy smile as i glance down at my cards. “so, you’ve just taken on your first big art house type film, queer. the tabloids have said that many directors had their eyes on you for the 2024 film run. what stuck out to you about this script?”

he smiles softly, his eyes focused in on mine like i hung the stars and moon as i asked the question. “great question, yeah, i mean.. luca.” he chuckles. “luca is someone i’ve wanted to work with as long as i could remember. so, i guess that was definitely the surface level..” he moves his hands as he explains. “.. attraction, i suppose. but, i also love the book, william s burroughs, i just fell in love with the story. playing eugene is something i’ll always remember.”

i grin softly, watching as his eyes light up as he explains. “that’s beautiful.” my hand comes to his bicep over his suit jacket sweetly. “i’m glad that your first big film was such a memorable experience. how has the awards season been, press and everything? was it different from press tours you’ve done in the past?”

it felt like we were having our own conversation. the camera wasn’t right next to us. microphones weren’t right below our lips. flashes and shouts weren’t heard in the background.

“oh yeah,” he nods. “for sure. film festivals were obviously something i’d never done before so that was a big adjustment. then of course, big nights like these. the emmy’s, oscar’s, and so on.. it’s been a journey, for sure.” he chuckles. “but daniel and luca have been so guiding and helpful through my uncertainties, i guess.” he smiles.

his publicist taps him on the shoulder and nods her head forward, signaling it was time to move on to the next interview. he politely smiles and turns to me, handing me the mic. he reaches in and hugs me—which i was not expecting.

i grin as he embraces me and pulls back, his hands resting on my forearm, near my elbow. “hey, i hope to see you inside, yeah? it was really great talking to you, y/n.”

i smile softly. “yeah, you too, drew. good luck tonight!” i wave as he walks off.

he turns over his shoulder and winks as he slips into his next interview. i let out a huff of breath, turning back to the camera. “wow. did anyone else just fall in love with him?” i joke.

not joking, actually.

“next we have..”

the red carpet went on for the next hour, interviewing actors and actresses, directors, and other talent walking the carpet. once the carpet concluded, my camera crew of two and i, were escorted inside the ceremony.

vanity fair was among the few only press outlets allowed inside the actual ceremony of the oscar’s.

we were escorted to the press section of the theatre, a small boxed off area by the stage, to the side of all the seats where the stars sat. we set up our little corner, the cameras arranging themselves as i fix my hair, adjusting my mic.

i look over at the audience as we wait for the show to begin, spotting drew almost immediately. and he was already looking at me.

he grins, standing from his seat and gingerly excusing himself past through the rows of actors. and he walks toward the press box.

our press box.

—

part 2 w… smut possibly ??? 😝😝

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fluff #rafe cameron #obx fic #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron smut #protective rafe #queer film #eugene allerton

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mewhenimanangel · 2 months ago

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need that, hamzahthefantastic

prev pt 3*

—synopsis. hamzah invites you over to be in their new video

—warnings!: freaky uti, dry humping, undressing

notes 🫧: the fight was so tuff, i’m a die hard noob

—🐞

you parked your car outside hamzah’s house, fixing your lip gloss and zipping up your sweater before going to knock on his door.

him and martin invited you to be in one of their sims videos since mandy was on vacation and they knew you played as well.

it’s been around two weeks since you and hamzah made out in his car. since then, you’d been texting a lot more and you hung out twice with mandy and martin. though, you haven’t done anything to continue what he started.

hamzah answered the door with a grin, “come on in boi, we haven’t started playing yet. martin’s still connecting the camera and the mic” he closed the door behind you.

you felt something brush against your leg, looking down to see his cat rubbing itself on your leg. “awwww he’s so cute” you reached down to see if he’d let you pick him up.

when he did you held him in your arms and rubbed behind its ear. “which one is this?” you asked hamzah. “this is blue. red’s probably upstairs somewhere clawing at something.” he said, reaching over your arm to pet blue.

“i had to put a child lock on my fridge cause they figured out how to open it bruh” he shook his head.

you giggled looking at him with a smile.

“oh hey y/n, didn’t know you were here already. i just finished setting up the camera” martin said. “heyy” you put blue down on the floor, following martin.

“you ready to get your sims on?” he asked. “try freaking born ready” you giggled, hamzah following behind you.

you sat off to the side on the couch in hamzah’s office while they started the video. “hello everynyan-” hamzah interrupted him “dude what” “it’s like a meme like have you ever seen it? it’s like oh my gahhh” martin awkwardly repeated the video, hamzah stifling a laugh. “anyways we’re back and better than frigging ever” martin started off.

“now it has been a while-“ “definitely been a while-“ “right, a while since our regularly scheduled programming” hamzah said. “i hope you guys enjoyed the fight, we worked super hard literally for like six months”

“and you may realize we’re not in our usual spot, wanna tell them why that is?” martin said. “yes we are, we’re in my house this time because mandy’s on vacation and martin, feeling like a sad little lonely boy wanted to come over and play with me”

“yes mandy is gone. she is in spain right now because she doesn’t love me anymore. you know what they say, ‘go to spain when your lover’s a pain’. that’s why she hasn’t proposed to me yet in the big year of twenty twenty-five” martin went on. “literally nobody says that”

“but speaking of mandy, today we’re playing the sims. something we haven’t done in a long time and we need a little bit of a refresher” “yes, the sims is a girl game and since we don’t have mandy, we brought back up” hamzah added.

“yes, we obviously cannot play this game ourselves so we brought in another expert” they looked at each other before counting down from 3 and snapping their fingers. you knew they were gonna put some silly transition effect over this.

hamzah got up to get another chair for you “you good?” he asked you, making sure you were comfortable. and you nod your head before sitting between them. “hellurr. yes i am mandy’s back up today. because obviously, they don’t know what they’re doing so im taking over.”

“dude what is it with girls and the sims. only girls know how to play the sims” martin and hamzah riffed while you logged into your sims account.

“now this is your first time on here y/n, how do you feel in the presence of such greatness” martin asked. “well im honored to be on but i don’t know about ‘greatness’” you joked.

after two hours of creating sims and making them kill, cheat, fornicate, and find love, they ended the video. “banger video alert” hamzah turned the computer off. “uhh yeah that was really good if i do say so myself.” you pat yourself on the back.

the three of you lounged around hamzah’s living room for another hour after that. “are you guys hungry?” hamzah asked “i was gonna order some food” “actually i still have some packing to do for my flight tomorrow” martin sighed while playing with red. “oh shit right, i forgot” hamzah shrugged.

“i’m gonna head out now bro i’ll see you next week” he dapped hamzah up before doing the same to you. hamzah followed him out before closing the door behind him.

“i could eat” you shrugged and hamzah smiled. he pulled his phone out and ordered chick-fil-a, adding in your order.

you sat criss crossed on his couch as blue jumped into your lap, snuggling up against you and purring. “his ass definitely likes you” hamzah chuckled.

“do you want one?” he asked, coming back from his bedroom with a little jar of edibles. “sure” you reached to grab one with your nails.

hamzah grabbed one too and you tapped them together in a ‘cheers’ motion before eating them.

you soured your face and gagged “okay these are nasty oh my god” you laughed. “yeah they taste like butt but they do the job. the food should be here in like twenty minutes” he said, joining you on the couch.

you helped him review the footage from the video before he sent it to their editor. by now the edible was beginning to kick in and you were growing hungrier by the minute. his door bell rung and he got up to answer the door.

he came back holding the bags of food up with a smile on his face and plopped down onto the couch, this time much closer to you, legs and arms touching.

“fuck i’m starving. is that shit kicking in for you yet?” he asked, handing you your sandwich and fries. “oh it is” you grinned.

“have you ever had the mac and cheese?” he asked you. “no i usually go for the fries” “okay here you gotta try it.” he took some on his fork and put it in front of your mouth, paying close attention to the way your lips wrapped around the fork. “right?” he nod his head at your reaction.

“wait here, you’ve got some cheese on your mouth” he said, brushing your lip off with a napkin. “oh..oops” you giggled through your slowed words.

the two of you tore through your food, turning on family guy in the background. “that was so fucking good” you looked at him, eyes low and red.

“right…..i’m stuffed.” you slowly sipped on your milkshake. “do you ever think about what they do with the cut out pieces of fries?” you asked, just chatting. “i always wonder but they probably just throw them away.” he added.

you leaned back into the couch, cross legged, knee resting atop of hamzah’s as he put his arm on the back of the chair behind you.

he slowly rubbed your bare shoulder that peeked from under your hoodie that was falling off. you leaned your head back, resting it on his arm before looking at him.

“so, are we just never gonna talk about it again?” you addressed the elephant in the room. “hm?” he looked at you. “the kiss, are we just gonna act like it didn’t happen?”

“no of course not, i just wasn’t sure if i had made you uncomfortable so i didn’t wanna push anything again” he shrugged. “hamzah i kissed you back for a reason. i wanted it” you reassured. “and i still do” you said, looking away for a second.

he grabbed your chin, turning your face back to his before kissing you. you leaned into the kiss, rubbing your nails at the back of his neck.

the room filled with your mutual satisfied sounds, hamzah pushing his hand up under your sweater. he laid you down against the couch arm, keeping himself steady atop of you.

he slowly pulled the zip down, taking off your sweater off, you willed yourself to follow his lead, wrapping your arms around him. he broke the kiss, “you good, right?” he asked. “yeah, keep going. i want you, hamzah” you reassured. he kissed you again before lining kisses down your jawline and throat. he sucked down on your skin “wait don’t leave any hickeys” you said through a moan.

“too late” he let out a breathy laugh, making you giggle. hamzah let out a soft noise at the feeling of your nails rubbing through his hair. he slowly eased his up under your tank top, reaching up he grabbed a handful of bra. “here, hang on” you sat up, taking off your shirt and throwing it by your sweater. you fiddled with your bra clasp and eased the straps off your shoulders, letting your boobs rest.

hamzah stared at them, mouth agape. “that was a push up bra by the way, so don’t be too disappointed” you joked. “how would i be disappointed. you’re fucking hot” he pulled you atop of him and kissed you, hands firm on your ass.

he kissed down the middle of your chest before his mouth latched on. you sighed in satisfaction when he rolled his tongue.

you subconsciously grinded your hips on his, feeling him grow. “fuck” you winced. you stayed in that position for a while, dry humping each other as he kissed and sucked all over your upper body. you felt yourself getting needier by the minute. “hamzah-“ you started before being interrupted by a knocking on the door. “dude let me in, i forgot my wallet” it was martin.

you looked at hamzah before getting up. he kissed you “go to my bedroom, i’ll be there in a second” he told you and you smirked before leaving the room.

hamzah let him in “ugh thank you, i was worried you fell asleep” martin said, spotting his wallet on the side table.

hamzah looked over his shoulder realizing your shirt and bra were still thrown around on the couch. “imagine i went all the way to spain and forgot this just sitting here” martin chuckled before turning around, hamzah missing the chance to let him not to.

“oou you got chick-fil-a? anything left?” he looked inside a bag before he came face to face with your bra. he turned around, jaw dropped “dude!” he gasped and hamzah grinned.

lvryn

Liked by hamzahthefantasfic, clairedrakee and others

lvryn alright who pressed fast forward on my weekend 😂

mandys_iphone cute

user HELLO? is this a soft launch?????

ynlover omg this and how touchy they were in the sims video last month, they’re definitely dating ?)!(!;$:

— 🐞 the end

#hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah fluff #hamzah fic #hamzah x reader #martin and hamzah #hamzah imagines #hamzahsmut #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic #thatmartinkid #slushy virus #slushy noobz

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ghosts-and-blue-sweaters · 2 years ago

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UPDATE I FOUND THE CLIP ON YOUTUBE AND I GOT THROUGH TEN SECONDS BEFORE I SAID “AWWW” OUT LOUD AND THEN I TEARED UP AGAIN

#I KEEP ALMOST CRYING OVER GHOSTBUR WOSVAKSGAKGSKAVSJSV #I NEVER CRYYYYYYYY #GOSH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH #I THOUGHT MY FAVORITE CHARACTER WAS WILBUR FOR MONTHS AND MONTHS #BUT NO #THAT IS JUST NOT TRUE #GHOSTBUR IS MY FAVORITE AND HE WILL BE MY FAVORITE AND WILBUR CAN STAY IN SECOND PLACE #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH #this really does beg the question: when will I break #because I think it’s inevitable at this point #one day I’ll probably just start sobbing over Ghostbur and LET’S HOPE THAT HAPPENS WHEN I’M ALONE OKAY #I NEED TO GRIEVE FOR HIM OR SOMETHING #I DON’T KNOW #goshhhh I love Ghostbur so much 😭 this is a little bit Insane…#I’ve never liked a character as much as Ghostbur I don’t think aksgaksgahg #he’s just… ough <3 #I love him. your honor #I got up at 1am last night in the dark with no lights and wrote a poem in the dark with no lights about Ghostbur and I could barely see the #the paper and the ink but I WROTE IT ANYWAY #I need to end this post right freaking now or I will explode #my post #my DSMP thoughts

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notdexterousatall · 19 days ago

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I think my real point here is that if anyone should be calling each other "nii-san" and "otouto" in bed it should be KakaNaru. Jiraiya has definitely written Icha Icha StepSister and Kakashi has definitely read it. Naruto should realize he's into that, make fun of him for it, and then be the one to start doing it while they're having sex. Kakashi should laugh and go along with it, secretly be HUGELY into it, and then continue treating Naruto as some combination of lover/younger brother in all other aspects of their relationship completely uncritically. Sasuke thinks they're freaks. Sakura is also into it.

I feel like people sleep on just how fucked up KakaNaru can get. Like, there's the obvious: fourteen-year age difference, student-teacher, etc... But what about the rest? Sleeping with the boy who should have been as close to a younger brother as you were ever going to get, if things hadn't gone so terribly wrong. Your student/teacher and your subordinate/commanding officer in the military dictatorship you both live in and serve. Fucking the man who was supposed to teach you how to kill, but seemed so uninterested in you that he dropped you in the chuunin exams without warning and then handed you over to another teacher (he was never uninterested.) You love him anyway. You've both been indoctrinated to do anything in service of the village (he's the one who indoctrinated you.) Even in ninja-magic world, your friends would at minimum give you a side eye for your relationship. Are ninja even cool with you being gay? Let alone doing the equivalent of growing up to marry your middle school teacher/marry your student. He's the most dangerous man you know. Both of you have teetered on the brink of being perfectly alone in the world. You love him.

#naruto #kakanaru #'sensei' is OUT 'nii-san' is IN #let them be freaks your honor #all kakashi's friends side eye him for obviously roping his younger student is kink role playing with him #and are totally shocked when kakanaru suddenly show up married. because they were serious about each other all along dattebayo!#except for gai who side eyed him for the more accurate charge of falling in love with his subordinate #but still crashed their elopement and is crying youthful tears of joy in all the photos #half of naruto's friends were convinced he was just really committed to the bit of seeing under kakashi's mask #until he showed up with a ring

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 07:30 P.M 」

cat anon, i'm holding you responsible for this very domestic and cute idea of indulgence, and ahhhhhh i just need more fluff—

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re always, always so messy!”

“you never put the socks where they belong!”

“and lately you stink too!”

you were ranting a whole lot of your grievances to your husband as you munched on chocolate cookies from a jar, your face scrunched up and visibly vexed.

throughout it all, satoru took on your tirade with a very smooth smile, occasionally suppressing his impulse to burst into laughter, because what an adorable sight you were—all pouting with the swell of his child inside you, messing up your hormones.

“i stink?” he tilted his head to the side, blinking innocently, eyes crinkling with such fondness and a visible hint of laugh. “that can’t be—”

“you are! and you are home late too these days!” you puffed your cheeks, now chubbier—and you’re so freaking cute this way, there’s nothing satoru wants more than to smooch you, really.

“is that your way of saying that you missed me, hmm?”

“no! why would i?!”

“because i’m your very good-looking husband?”

“ew! no! you’re just a horny weirdo!”

that finally got him to outwardly snicker. “can’t you see that we’re doing an honorable deed? we’re increasing japan’s birth rate~”

it wasn’t the first time of you suddenly painting him up as the bad guy due to your raging hormones, and satoru was entertained each and every time. he always humored you without fail even when you got mad at him for no reason—in his eyes, you were just the height of cuteness, and he was ever so grateful that you were growing his baby at all.

later at night, after your bath, a softer part of you suddenly felt a tad bit guilty for roasting your husband—the hormones at play, heh—and now, wanted to snuggle up to him instead.

satoru’s eyes lit up in mischief when you got to the bed and pressed yourself to him.

“oh? so the wife now wants cuddles?”

“…can’t i? i’ve done a lot for you—carrying your baby is a job in and of itself.” you pointed at your bump with a pout. “see if you can find another girl who can put up with you and just ask for cuddles in return.”

“ehh? is that what you want me to do? go find another girl and forget you just like that?”

the idea made you frown and satoru immediately barked a laugh, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“aww, look at that cute face,” he tried to appease you, a stupid grin on his face as he poked your cheek, with you still frowning deeply. “no, no. that’s not going to happen~”

you were still giving him a very annoyed look, and satoru knew just what to make you soft for him again, as he pulled you by your chin closer and peppered your face with kisses—

“you’re” kiss “the only girl” kiss “i’ll ever love” kiss —yeah?”

safe to say, you melted into a puddle in his arms, ignoring the searing heat on your cheeks as you pressed your face to his chest, with him chuckling, wrapping one arm around you in a secure hold and roaming his other hand on your tummy, smile widening upon feeling a kick.

“well, kid, mama is such a sweetie, isn’t she?”

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader fluff

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swordsandholly · 9 months ago

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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 7: Firsts

Kyle bought you lunch before your set time. To make sure you ate, he said. He still asked about five times if you felt like you ate enough or needed water even after sitting across from you while you downed a to-go container of pad se ew and your fourth ounce bottle.

You just laugh and point to a piece on your knee. “Babes I got this with nothing but a trenta iced coffee and two hours of sleep in my system. I’m fine, I promise.”

John made a baffled noise at that. Kyle looked like he was going to throw up. That look remained as he went through the process of setting up in John’s studio room. Kyle is meticulous about it. Each step done with care. You feel a bit silly sitting around and twiddling your thumbs.

“Just breathe. It’s fine.” John murmurs in a low rumble that somehow has you relaxing more than the indented party.

“It’s almost more scary doing someone I know.” Kyle huffs.

You laugh. “Can’t be worse than the blown out piece of shit on my left arm. C’mon, I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve got this.”

John nods, sitting on the other side of you.

“Besides, even if it sucks I’ll still be honored to be your first real apprentice tattoo.” You pipe up.

Kyle chuckles, low and unsure. Part of you wants to give him an out, to say he doesn’t have to, but you can see the set of his jaw even as his eyes flick between his supplies and the stencil in his hand nervously. He’s determined as much as he is scared. There’s no getting him out of that headspace until he’s done.

You chose something easy. One of Kyle’s more dainty, simple flash designs for the back of your thigh, just below the curve of your ass. A little bow with minimal shading. Something he’s practiced a thousand times and an easy enough starting point. Plus, you already mentioned having him do a matching one on the other side when he’s ready for it. Easy practice.

“C’mon, at least get the stencil on before you have a panic attack.” You try to keep your voice light, turning your back to him.

Kyle sighs. You hear his stool roll forward as he scoots in close to place it. John shuffles around to stand over him. A nasty part of your brain complains about exposing your cellulite to these two fit men but you push that deep down into nothing. A second, more embarrassing part wonders if you should have chose a more appropriate spot… that maybe you shouldn’t be standing in front of your boss and coworker in teeny-tiny biker shorts that barely cover you. You shove that down right next to the other mean thoughts.

You pointedly ignore the heat that shoots up your spine as Kyle’s hands feel out the shape of your thigh to get it centered - keeping your eyes forward as he slowly presses the paper against you. You could swear a thumb traces the curve of your cheek as he smoothes it but that’s probably just wishful thinking.

“Good job, kid.” John claps a hand on Kyle’s shoulder as soon as the paper is pulled away. You turn around in the mirror to check it, expecting to probably have to move it, but from what you can tell it really is perfect.

“Damn, dude, on your first try!” You grin, clapping happily.

Kyle nods stiffly, but you see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. You unceremoniously clamber onto the table, moving around so your back doesn’t hurt from laying flat for the next few hours with your arms folded under your head.

“Hey.” You whisper while John steps away to grab something. “Get through this without freaking out and I’ll give you a reward.”

“A reward?” He tilts his head, smile turning from an nervous curl of his lip to a boyish grin.

You jokingly bat your lashes. “I’ll give you a kiss.”

Kyle chuckles. “With tongue?”

You gawk, face hot. “Mr. Garrick! Where’d my knight in shining armor go?”

“Just tryin’ t’ figure out exactly what I’m workin’ toward.”

You hum, pretending to mull it over. “We’ll see. Depends on how well you do.”

Kyle levels a look at you, something heated as his lip catches between his teeth. It’s only there for a moment, gone as soon as he turns to his tools. Replaced by a laser focus.

“Alright.” John settles back into his seat on your other side. “Let’s do one line and then see how we all feel.”

Kyle nods. You shuffle a little to make you’re you’re as comfortable as possible for the next however long. You know it’s going to be a while even if it isn’t a simple design. He’s new and precise with means slow.

The familiar whirr of the gun starts up. You shut your eyes, waiting, hoping that you aren’t projecting any more tension into the room than Kyle is. The needle stings when it finally touches you, but not as badly as you braced for. His touch is light.

He pulls the gun away and let’s put a giant sigh. “How y’feel, luv?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m all good. You?” You tilt your chin a bit to meet his eye.

“Better now that it’s started.”

“Good.” John nods, chest bumping your leg as he leans forward to look. “Looks good. Keep on.”

The room is nearly silent as he works. You turned down the music before coming back so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed - at least that was your reasoning. You’d get overwhelmed. Kyle is more levelheaded than you are, though.

“Thassit.” John smiles - or at least that’s how it sounds in his voice. “Her skin takes ink so well, yeah?”

Fuck, that totally should not do it for you. Gravelly voiced British bastard. You keep your eyes locked onto the flash on the far wall as you attempt to cool down.

Kyle just hums, seemingly unable to talk as he concentrates. He probably is with how dialed in he looks. You take a break before he gets to shading, stretching and getting some water. It takes a while, but not as long as you assumed. You start to get that ache in your skin partway through the shading - that feeling when your nerves are so tired from firing off pain receptors they just all sort of start burning dully.

However long later Kyle pulls away. “I… think it’s done?”

“You think?” John challenges.

Kyle sighs before speaking with more finality. “It’s done.”

There’s a few beats where John assess and you hold your breath. He points to a couple spots where Kyle’s hand slipped a bit or he applied too much pressure, but when you check it out in the mirror yourself you don’t see that all. Perfectionists.

You can’t help but squeal and jump, clapping happily and barely standing still while Kyle puts the saniderm on. You’re just to happy! Not only did Kyle get his first tattoo done but now you have brand new (free) cute ink to show off. Kyle looks tired, though, so you try not over overwhelm him while he cleans up. Concentrating like that with anxiety must have really taken it out of him.

You sort of forget about your promise of a reward for the next week. Too busy focusing on taking care of your new tattoo. The only downside to the placement is sitting in your office chair itches - especially once you take the saniderm off. You’ve mostly taken to standing while working and wearing shorts and skirts to let it breathe. It’s worth it, though. You’ll have to ask Kyle how soon he wants to do the other one. Without being pushy, of course.

You quietly hum to yourself as you get the cash drawers ready to lock away in the backroom safe. Triple checking the bags and making sure tips are divided correctly, etc.

“Hey, lovie.” Kyle saddles up behind you suddenly, hands on your hips.

You jump. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. A hand slips down your hip, palm tracing the hem of your tennis skirt to lightly rest over the little bow. “How’s she healin’?”

“It’s, uh, it-“ You stutter, eyes wide and skin hot. If it were Johnny, you’d laugh and swat him away - maybe let his hand wander to your ass first - but Kyle doesn’t do this. Not that you don’t like it - the problem lies in that you’re liking it too much. If the patter of your heart is anything to go by. “It’s good. Not itching yet or anything.”

Kyle hums. “Good.”

“Th-that all?”

“Think you forgot somethin’.” He turns you around, hands firmly planted on the softness of your waist. When you just give him a bewildered look he continues. “I was promised a reward, I think.”

“O-oh?” Your face burns, eyes wide. Is he serious? Part of you wants to say no - to push him away. You’re coworkers, after all. Until your eyes meet his, so big and warm and his lips forming a perfect pout. “John….?”

Kyle chuckles ans crosses his chest. “John won’t care. Cross my heart.”

He gives you a moment to mull it over. You don’t think he’s making fun of or bating you - Kyle wouldn’t do that. There’s no way he’s interested either. That’s one delusion you can firmly plant in the ’purely imaginary’ category.

Whatever. What do you have to lose from a little back room make out?

Your lips meets his. Fuck, they’re soft. He steals your breath - greedy and gentile. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, much less kissed well. One of the hands on your waist moves to your low back as Kyle leans into you. Your hands grapple onto his shoulders to steady you. He takes advantage of your gasp at being tilted back to swipe is tongue between your lips.

You mould together, breaths heavy and tongues dancing. A needy, pathetic little part of you wishes the hand that drifted from your waist to your hip would hook under your thigh. That Kyle would tilt you all the way back onto the desk and throw your leg over his shoulder, eagerly pushing up your skirt-

An ‘I love you’ dances on the tip of your tongue and you reel back harshly, hand flat on his chest to separate you.

“Alright?” He murmurs, eyes half lidded and dark.

You swallow roughly and nod, breathing hard. “I, uh, I need to finish the safe.”

Something passes across his face briefly as your eyes flick between his. Whatever it was, it’s replaced by his usual easy smile as he returns to standing at his full height, the hands on your waist steady you before disappearing. Your stomach drops as they go.

“See you tomorrow.” Kyle murmurs, pressing one last little peck on your cheek before striding away, leaving you alone in the back room with a hot face and whirlwind thoughts.

Fuck.

A/N: brought to you by the time a tattoo artist told me my skin takes ink well in the most haunting bedroom voice I’ve ever heard😵‍💫 killed me right then and there

#poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #tf 141 x reader #141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz x reader #gaz x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #fem reader #tattoo au

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 30 days ago

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MR. CHU!

❤︎‬ sol wonders if you're interested in him after you ask about his piercings ❤︎‬ solivan brugmansia x gn reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 2k ❤︎‬ content warning(s): yandere ❤︎‬ solivan brugmansia is from the kid at the back being developed by fantasia-kitt

Like everybody else in the school, you never used to pay much attention to the quiet kid in your art class. It really wasn’t until recently, when you had no choice but to shyly ask him if he’d like to be your partner for a class project, that you finally acknowledged Solivan Brugmansia’s existence.

You don’t think too much of him. Even now, as he tries his best to pose for you as naturally as he can, your mind is preoccupied with the far-more colorful personalities at Olympeius University while you absentmindedly sketch the details of his face. You wonder what Crowe might be up to right now, or if Jess has made any progress with her ginormous crush on Brittney…

Your eyes flicker up to where Sol is, and you try to pay close attention to the bottom half of his face. He’s a physically attractive young man, but aesthetics aside, you’re more worried about drawing Sol well so you can wring a good grade out of your insatiable art professor. You squint your eyes a bit, leering at Sol’s lips to try to make out all the details. It’s no biggie in your mind, since you need someone to model for you and you’re simply trying to make your drawing as accurate to life as possible, but Sol?

Sol thinks he’s going to asphyxiate from how fast and hard his heart is pounding.

He can’t believe his luck. It took him all the self control in his body not to start panicking and freaking out when you had approached him and asked him to be your partner, and now he got the honor of hogging all of your attention while you used him as a model. Would it be foolish of him to hope that you like what you see? He knows his fashion sense and style isn’t for everyone and tends to make him a target more than an object of admiration, but… you’re different. You’re understanding and compassionate, and maybe you’d find something worth loving in him.

“Hold still… I’m almost done here…,” you mutter, sticking your tongue out just a little bit as you scribble furiously onto your sketchpad. Sol’s heart skips a beat, and while he can feel a rush of dizziness immediately hit his brain at your cute tongue peeking out from between your lips, he doesn’t want to disappoint you ever.

After a few determined strokes, you nod at him. For the first time since class started, Sol finally lets himself relax. His tense muscles groan as he finally allows himself to shift positions into a more comfortable seated position, and he looks expectantly at you as if he wants to see your creation. You’re like a mind reader, and without him having to say anything, you gingerly hand him your sketchbook.

“I’m not an artist like you are, but… I tried my best,” you shyly admit. Sol’s breath hitches audibly when you scoot your seat a bit closer to him to explain to him your handiwork, but you don’t seem to notice. “I- uh- don’t know if I did your piercings justice since you have a lot, but I gave them a shot.”

You could have spat on the paper and handed it to him, and Sol would still treasure and revere it as if it were a masterpiece deserving to be displayed in the finest of art museums. Of course, he would never hand it over to anybody and keep it only for his personal viewing, but in his perspective, everything your hands could create was nothing if not holy.

“It’s beautiful. You should give yourself more credit. You’re not a bad artist at all.” He thinks he’s going to pass out after class from just how happy he is. A shudder creeps down his spine as he relishes the thought of your eyes all over his face and body, him being the only thing to take up the forefront of your mind. What he wouldn’t give to know what you thought of him as you sketched his face. Just knowing that you cared enough about him to draw him makes him feel as if he’s on top of the world, and he can feel a warm flush overtake his pale cheeks. “Don’t worry too much about my piercings. I know metal can be hard to draw.”

“Yeah, but… I just feel a little bad. They look so cool on you.” You flash him an innocent smile, completely unaware of the mental anguish you’re putting the poor lovestruck boy through. “I’ll keep practicing! That way I’ll be able to draw you perfectly by the end of this project.”

His piercings? Cool? Sol’s heart genuinely can’t take this barrage. What is it about you that has him acting this way? What is it about you that makes him want to drag you away from everybody else and keep you all to himself, to worship and to love? The others around you don’t know how to fully appreciate your generosity and light, how you’re kind to everyone, even misfits like him. He’s the only one who knows how to properly care and cherish you, and he can’t let anybody else steal that role away from him. He’s spent so many sleepless nights chasing after your warmth, eating away bit by bit at the safety of the boundaries you’ve put up.

Nothing can keep you safe from him.

You don’t know anything about how he feels though. You’re pure and oblivious to his mental turmoil, completely unaware of the sheer effect you have on him. You keep looking at him as if he was nothing more than an eccentric classmate rather than someone you were fated to, just without your knowledge. You peer closely at his face, before lifting a delicate finger to point at his lips.

“Say Sol…,” you ask him, clearly absentmindedly based on how casual your tone is, “How do you kiss if you have lip piercings?”

…

Why did you have to ask him something like that?

Sol thinks his brain might have ceased functioning the moment you threw him that question. Nothing—absolutely nothing—has been able to reach him as he plays that memory over and over again in his head. Even the jeers of the school bullies or Hyugo’s incessant chatter couldn’t yank him out of his lovestruck reverie. Sol was on cloud nine, replaying the melodic cadence of your voice over and over and over again within his memories. He could never get sick of you or your many details. Every little bit of information he could glean from you was so precious that he could spend the rest of his life in sheer ecstasy at how perfect you were.

Hyugo was used to it at this point and knew not to question it. But whenever Sol entered into these almost drunken stupors, it was hard for Hyugo to not worry about him a bit. Sol’s cheeks are dyed a ridiculous shade of bright red, and his hands tremble uncontrollably as he fidgets with his fingers. There’s a lopsided grin on his face, and if Hyugo really pays attention, he can make out a lovesick sigh escape the eccentric young man every now and then.

Sol just wishes he could actually peer into your mind and figure out what you thought of him! What made you ask him such a risque question? Were you interested in him? You had to be somewhat, if you initiated the partnership with him and even called his style cool… Nobody else talked about him that way. Nobody else, save for you, found him interesting. What if you had a crush on him too? Was that why you asked him about kissing? Was this your way of encouraging him to amp up his advances?

It meant that you had to be thinking about his lips. About kissing him specifically. Sol could feel his heart rate pick up dangerously again as he imagines your sweet face approaching his, closing the impossible distance between the two of you bit by bit. How many years, grueling moments, had he waited for this to take place? Maybe you’d be shy and only leave him with a quick peck to his mouth. Or maybe you’d be more gutsy and press your lips fully onto his, making out with him in a way that leaves both of you breathless and gasping for air. His heart squeezes almost painfully inside of his chest at the thought of you being so close, doing something so mundane yet so intimate, showing him a kind of romantic affection that nobody else could share with you…

He wants so badly to be the only one in your eyes. Each minute of class with you feels like torture. He wants nothing more than to close that gap. It doesn’t have to be anything big: placing his big hand on top of yours, poking your nose whenever you get distracted, all the small things that come so easily for normal couples. Kissing would just be the first step. What else could come after? There was a whole myriad of things he could dream of. He’d escort you dutifully to every single one of your classes so that everybody in this school would know that you were his.

You’d spend more and more time together, and surely, one day you’d invite him over to your apartment that he’s secretly grown so familiar with… Just thinking about it makes his skin bristle with excitement. If everything went as planned, as easily as his daydreams made it look, then he could finally have you in the way that he wanted most.

You had to reciprocate somewhat. You just had to be interested in him as much as he was interested in you. That was what that quick question meant to him, your words construed and twisted beyond belief inside of his delusional thoughts.

Hyugo puffs one of his cheeks out and peers at his daydreaming friend with a bit of concern. “Are you gonna eat your lunch, Sunny?”

Sol doesn’t respond at all. Hyugo sighs and shakes his head before tapping the side of Sol’s arm.

“I asked you a question!” The shorter man points at the untouched food in Sol’s lap. Sol bristles to life, the hearts in his eyes melting away as they refocus and Hyugo enters his field of vision again. Hyugo points once again at the abandoned food and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Sol deadpans. If Hyugo’s presence wasn’t so convenient, he would have sent Hyugo flying to his death from the rooftop for interrupting his precious time with daydream-you. He lets Hyugo take the food before letting his mind wander again, wind blowing through his air as he wonders what you might be up to right now. Were you thinking of him too? Would you be thinking of him even when he’s not within your immediate vicinity.

He wants to see you so badly right now. He wishes he was in class again, for the first time in his life, so that he could have you right next to him and monopolize your time as he pleases. But Sol knows he has to be patient. One wrong step would have his great expectations come toppling down, and he would rather die than live in a world where he can’t have you anymore.

So he makes up his mind there and then. There was no room for hesitation. You had finally noticed him after all of his time lurking in the shadows, and these passive moments weren’t enough to satisate the brutal appetite you had awoken inside of him. He needs more. He needs more of your time. He needs more of your love.

If you were so curious about him and his piercings, so curious about the way he kissed, then he’d make the answer as simple as it could get.

He’ll kiss you tomorrow and show you just how he does it.

#the kid at the back #tkatb #the kid at the back x reader #tkatb x reader #tkatb sol #the kid at the back sol #solivan brugmansia #x reader #my writing

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angeliteria · 8 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

pairings — catholic!fem reader and eddie munson

summary — you're a good catholic girl. always have been — even though you're dating eddie munson, who's the complete opposite of that. he's crude and vulgar, and his influence may just taint you entirely.

warnings tags — adult language. mentions of religion, talks of god. eddie hates god, but has a god kink. major blasphemy. reader has daddy issues. mentions of jason craver (ew i know). graphic details of smut: loss of virginity (virgin!reader) + corruption. oral (eddie receiving). f!ngering. slight degrading but more praise. wrong usage of a rosary.

Eddie Munson was merely the Devil in your parents eyes.

To you, he was the seventh heaven.

Crossing paths with him was not a mistake, but a blessing. Eddie took care of you, and loved you. He really loved you.

You met him through a friend who went to Hawkins with him, and you couldn’t perceive him as a bad boy, whatsoever. He was genuine and kind the second you and him met, asking questions about you that no other guy ever had done.

But you knew he was not the guy you could bring home to your parents. Your parents were aware of him, since your father was a Sheriff for the Hawkins department, and always got reports of him.

You couldn’t tell them about your infatuation for Eddie, and how your heart burned for him, belonged to him. You were more faithful to Eddie Munson than you were to your Catholicism, and for you to say that to your parents, would earn you a kick to church camp.

You couldn’t say that their sweet little girl was in love with Hawkins’ freak; that he had told her many ways he wanted to deprive her of innocence and purity; that he dreamed of her worshiping him under her cross.

And you dreamed of that, every Sunday, for the past many month.

You sat in between your father and mother as the Priest read from the bible, and you fiddled with the ending hem of your white, babydoll dress. You stared mindfully at the cross, your head drawing the image of Eddie taking your virginity, rupturing your virtue, right underneath it.

You did feel a bit of guilt when you thought such lewd things, and you did blame Eddie for it. You felt even worse thinking of them in church, where you were supposed to be devoting your love and soul to the Lord, not a wild man.

“Hebrews 13:4 says, ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for fornicators and adulterers God will judge’”, the Priest spoke confidently, eyes glancing up to everyone for a second.

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping tightly on your dress.

What the fuck, Jesus, you thought to yourself. I’m a fucking eighteen year old, of course I want to fornicate!

“Sweet dear,” your mother whispered, and you looked at her. “You look unwell. Are you okay?”

“Do you mind if I take a moment outside?” You wondered, brows drawing upwards. “It feels stuffy. Just for a minute, please.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Very well, then. Be quiet, dear.”

You thanked her, standing up, and quickly — but quietly — dismissed yourself out of the building, pushing open the wooden doors. The second you were outside, you groaned, the doors swinging close behind you.

“I’m damned for Hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple in frustration.

“So am I,” you heard a voice come from the side of you. You spin your head, finding Eddie there, smoking a cigarette. “For smoking of the Lord’s sacred grounds.”

“Eddie,” you sighed in relief, walking up to him, and he brought you into his embrace. He kissed the side of your head, before pulling back. “What are you doing here? If my parents — or anyone — sees you, they will make a fret out of it!”

Eddie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“I’m serious, Eds,” you frowned, throwing a small, playful slap to his shoulder. “We don’t need a scene.”

“Ah, I know, angel,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for assurance. “I just needed to see you. Was wondering what you are doing tonight?”

“I have homework, and finish my project on the Betrayal of Judas tonight,” you explained, annoyed at the mere thought of it. “It’s going to take all night. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted you to come by my trailer tonight,” Eddie said, and you smiled, but upset you had to decline his suggestion. “But it’s okay. I’m going to pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”

“If Sister Josie sees you, she will report you to my parents,” you warned, and he only barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “I do not want to be sent to a camp because I was caught with you, Eds.”

“If your parents did that, I’d kidnap you,” Eddie stated, and you rolled your eyes, shooting a look at the church’s doors, eyes retreating back into his shortly after. “Go on in, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can do something fun.”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything you wanted,” Eddie promised, giving your chin a soft pinch. “Be good for me, yeah?”

You hummed, and nodded. “Bye, Eds,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he watched you walk all the way back into the church.

You hurried back to your row, perching yourself back in between your parents.

“Feel better?” Your mother asked.

You inhaled sharply. “Much better.”

Your fork poked at the vegetables that sat on your dinner plate, your eyes boring into it. It was always quiet on Sunday dinners, and you never said anything, unless your parents did.

Your mother poured herself another glass of red wine, and your father glanced at you, then his wife. “Got another report today about that Munson boy,” your father cracked the perfect quiet, and was visibly angered. “He’s been seen graffiting near Lovers Lake.”

“And who is reporting that?” Your mother questioned, sipping her beverage.

“Probably that ass kisser, Jason,” you mumbled, and your father slammed his hands down on the table.

“LANGUAGE!” Your father bellowed, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, slouching back into your chair. “Jason is a good boy. A good son of the Lord, and that’s the kind of guy you need in your life.”

“Jason literally tried to kiss me at the eighth grade school dance,” you recalled, scoffing. “Without my consent, may I add!”

“Well you two were children then,” your mother said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s a lovely boy. His friends are lovely too!”

You purse your lips. “His friends are dumb fucks.”

Okay, so maybe Eddie really did have a bad influence on you. Because you would never — for the love of God — curse in front of your parents, until now.

“What’s with the mouth?” Your father asked, and you glared at him. “You ought to pray tonight to the Lord tonight.”

“I’m just growing up, daddy,” you mocked, standing up from the dinner table, and threw your napkin on top of your plate. You stormed out of the dining room, straight into your bedroom, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

You dropped your body onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream and kick every object in your room, but refused not to do such a thing.

You were fine with laying on your bed, and smothering yourself with a pillow, until you heard gentle knocks at your window. You jolted up, your head craning toward the sound, and peeked at the window.

And you found Eddie, standing right outside your window.

You cursed under your breath, and stalked over to your window, snapping it open. Eddie smiled at the sight of you, though he could tell you were mystified by his unnoticed appearance.

“Do you want to kidnap me that badly?” You wondered, and he chuckled breathily, shrugging. “You can’t be here right now. My dad and I got into this fight.”

“About me, I suppose?” Eddie asked, allowing himself to jump into and through your bedroom window, and you didn’t stop him. “I know how your daddy likes to talk about me.”

“He said I should be with Jason, or someone like him,” you said, and he closed your bedroom window. “Because he is a son of the Lord.”

“Or the fucking Devil,” Eddie joked, and you snickered, but agreed. “I wonder what your dad would think if he knew you were with me, hm?”

“He would take his shotgun to you,” you admitted, and Eddie took a look around your bedroom. “Anyway, you can stay for a bit, but my father demands I pray for cursing.”

“Their little girl suddenly has a mouth of dirt?” Eddie teased, and you slapped his arm, which he laughed at. “Have I finally corrupted their innocent daughter?”

“Shut it, Munson,” you snapped, and he leaned against your desk, his eyes casting down at your Bible that sat on top of it.

“How about you pray right now? I won’t say a thing,” Eddie suggested, and you raised a brow, tilting your head. “You need to get it over with, anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“You want to watch me pray?” You asked.

“It’d be nice, ya’know?” Eddie grinned, and he could tell you were completely gullible to what he was getting at. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two.”

You considered it, and simply agreed, walking up next to him. You grabbed your bible, and opened it up as you made your way over to your bed, kneeling at the end of it. Your knees brushed against your carpet-like flooring, looking up at your cross.

“Wait, Eds,” you paused, and he was already giving you your pink rosary. You thanked him, wrapping it around your fingers, and held it tightly in your hand.

Your cross hung right above your bed, right in the middle of your room, and your attention diverted from him, to the Bible.

Eddie simply watched and witnessed you speak and pray, and he felt sick for getting aroused to this pure sight of you, pleading for forgiveness from a man who supposedly ruled the Earth. He wanted to touch you, for his hands to memorize and caress every curve of your body.

His eyes unpeeled that baby pink tank top you wore, then went to your white, soft sweatpants. He wondered how it’d be like for you to plead and worship him in front of the Lord as he made you call him your God.

Maybe that was an awful, crude dream to play in his head, but he wanted to have your devotion turn to him, not the Lord.

The Lord couldn’t love and care for you the way he did.

Eddie went over to your bedroom door, and locked it, seeing how focused you were on the pages of pure fiction.

He kneeled behind you, and wrapped an arm around your torso, your body shuddering. He brought you closer to him, planting an innocent kiss on your shoulder.

“Eddie, I’m praying,” you pouted, setting your Bible down for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t disrupt.”

“Just keep going, love,” he mumbled, his tip of his nose brushing against your skin. “Keep praying.”

You rolled your eyes and did so, continuing to recite every word from the pages.

Eddie’s lips made their way to the nape of your neck, getting the sweet scent of your perfume. “What a good girl,” he whispered, his hot breath sending a symphony of shivers along your body. “Doing anything to stay pure and good.”

You nearly faltered, your concentration weakening. His hand trailed to your stomach, resting on your abdomen.

Eddie had touched you before, but not fully — not under your clothes. He even afforded to show you how to touch yourself, but Sister Tina from your school said you’d be banished to Hell for such a thing; so that set enough fear in.

Now, you craved for him to touch him. You didn’t know why in this particular moment — out of every heated, lusting moment — you wanted to feel him, to take you apart, and taint every part of your body, and brain.

You began to stutter as you spoke, Eddie’s hand crawling under your sweatpants, grazing over your clothed area. “Do you think the Lord wants me to touch you?” He taunted, and you hummed, your hands grasping harshly onto both sides of the Bible. “What do you think?”

“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. “Eddie.”

“I want him to watch me take his devoted angel,” Eddie continued, his fingers creeping into your underwear, and your body flinched the second his fingers pressed against your bud. “Show him that he is no protector.”

You nodded, and Eddie grinned, resting his chin onto your shoulder.

You wanted Eddie. You needed Eddie.

“Keep reading, or I’ll stop,” Eddie warned, and you couldn’t hold onto a single thought as his middle finger curled into your unripe cunt. You moaned, squeezing your eyelids shut to the feeling of it. It was a single fucking finger in you, and you felt like pure bliss.

Eddie continued to pump the individual finger in you, slowly and surely as you tried to read more.

Everything was going smoothly, until a knock hit against your bedroom door.

Your father barked your name, you and Eddie freezing up. “Honey, why is your door locked?” Your father asked, shaking the doorknob. “Are you okay?”

Eddie smirked, his ring finger joining his middle, both pumping into a picked up pace.

“I–I’m praying!” You announced, trying to hold back your noises. “I wanted to pray in privacy, talk to the Lord!”

“Oh,” your father spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. I just wanted to say, you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”

Eddie’s fingers struck an unknown, but euphoric, spot in you, and you choked down a loud moan. “Yeah, daddy! I know that,” you responded, throwing your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder, and the Bible collapsed to the side of you.

Eddie chuckled quietly, using his free hand to wrap onto your throat. “What a filthy girl,” he whispered into your ear, grasping onto your neck.

“There’s bad guys out there, like Eddie Munson,” your father said, and Eddie wanted to bark a laugh. “If you were to be with a boy like that, I’d lose it. Boys only want one thing, and you know that.”

Another noise was lodged in your throat, Eddie having to squeeze your throat as a warning.

“I know, I know! Now, can I continue praying, please?” You asked, and Eddie’s finger shoved into you faster, and harder.

“Yes, of course! Your mother and I are heading to the Martins for a bit,” he acknowledged, and you had to slam your own hand over your mouth. “We should be back no later than 11. Be good!”

You kept your hand over your mouth until you heard the front door slam shut, and the second they did, you freed all your noises. Your chest heaved, your body becoming pudding against Eddie’s.

A hot sensation hit your stomach, and you found pleasure in it. It was an unfamiliar, enjoyable feeling. Your thighs trembled, and Eddie took a quick note to it, noticing how you were barely adjusting to this. “Are you going to cum?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with confusion.

“Cum?” You repeated.

“Does it feel like your stomach is on fire?” Eddie asked, his fingers making themselves deeper into your core, and you nodded. “That means you’re at your climax, love. That you are going to cum. It’s very normal.”

You still had a lot to learn, and Eddie was glad enough to teach you it all.

“Just let it go, sweetheart. Let it be free,” he cooed, and you hummed, your body convulsing the second your climax poured out of you, nearly dropping to the floor. He kept you up and close to him, and you panted, swallowing thickly.

Eddie’s fingers disappeared out of you, removing his hand completely from you. He placed his two fingers in his mouth, getting the sweet taste of you, and nearly moaned. “You taste fucking divine.”

You blushed, and eyed your Bible, picking it up. “I think I got enough forgiveness,” you joked, and Eddie hummed, helping you stand up with him. “I just…”

“Hm?” Eddie wondered, taking the Bible from you, and rested it on your desk. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I want,” your voice quavered, your head hanging low in embarrassment. “I want more.”

Eddie placed his finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him directly in the eye. “You want more? You have to be more specific, love,” Eddie mused, and you whimpered. “Use your words, please.”

“I want you to touch me more,” you only knew how to say it like that. Just paraphrase it in that way. “I want you to fuck me?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Eddie jested, and you whined more, embarrassed. “I’m kidding, sweet girl. I know what you mean, but are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling in confidence.

Eddie tugged you closer to his body, his lips smothering yours, and his hands laid on your hips, squeezing them gently. Your arms looped around his neck, holding him close to you, your body aching for him.

He led you over to your bed, sitting down onto it as you straddled his lap. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your rosary brushing against his skin, and you could feel him smile on your lips.

His lips fell off of yours, and he stripped off his upper half clothing, dropping them to your floor. Your eyes widened to the view of his body, his abs perfectly toned, and your finger drew around the tattoos he had on the left side of his chest.

“I like this tattoo,” you giggled at the Demon and spider tattoos, and he smiled, kissing the side of your head. “But I will always like your puppetmaster tattoo a lot more.”

“Gotta get you a tattoo one day,” Eddie said, and you shook your head. “Get you a pretty tattoo, just like mine, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, and he hummed, his fingers hooking under your shirt. You let him take it off of you, undoing your bra by yourself. You hesitantly shimmed off your bra, the straps sliding down your arms, and onto your lap.

You put it on the ground with the other clothes, and you didn’t stare at Eddie as his eyes gawked at your breasts. You were insecure and worried – he was the first guy to ever see your bare body.

Panic slowly rolled in. “Is it okay? Am I okay?”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed, looking up at you, and then at your breasts. “You are so beautiful. This body, all mine to touch and mark.”

Your worries washed away, Eddie planting loving kisses on your breasts.

“Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, captivated and enthralled by your gracious beauty. “All fucking mine.” He carefully laid you on your back, on the bed, and hovered over you, his lips falling back onto yours. His body rutted against yours, hands at the waistband of your sweatpants,

“Take them off, Eds,” you breathed into the kiss, and his taste was gone for a moment as he listened, stripping off your sweatpants. You were left in your white cotton panties, and he took a second to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants, both landing on the ground.

You and Eddie were only left in your underwear, and you could feel a hard bulge brush against your inner thigh.

Oh, you thought to yourself. That.

“Are you sure you’re ready, doll?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with assuring, doe eyes, and he kissed your forehead. He reached over to his pants, grabbing his wallet from it, and pulled out a small wrapper from it.

You shivered, and your eyes bored into Eddie as he took off his boxers, and you tensed the second you glimpsed at his cock.

You were about to pray to God again, due to the overwhelmingly huge size of Eddie.

Eddie opened up the wrapper, taking out the condom, and slipped it on. You took off your panties and kicked them off, throwing your rosary too, seeing how they joined all other clothing items on the floor.

“It’s going to hurt at first; if you want me to stop, just say so,” Eddie said, and one of his hands held onto yours for comfort as his other was used to guide him into you. You could feel the head of him at your cunt, and you squeezed his hand whilst his cock made its way into you, slowly and bit by bit.

Your back arched, gasping aloud to the feeling of him fulfilling you. Eddie’s hand grasped onto your jaw, holding onto it, forcing you to hold eye contact with him. “Just take me, love,” he mused, and you whimpered in response.

You were being easily stretched and torn apart by his cock, your virtue draining out of you with every brush of him coming in and out of you. You continued to hold onto his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand for assurance you were safe.

Eddie kept a steady, delicate pace, taking a clear eye to how you were already in shambles. He was simply dispossessing you of your longing purity, your body and devotion belonging to him now.

This was Seventh Heaven to you — this was all of the joy and exhilaration you longed for.

Your cunt adjusted to his size, and your hand let go of him, setting both of them onto his shoulders. “More, Eddie. Please,” you pleaded, and he began to drill himself deeper into you, his hands pressing onto your stomach for support.

You squealed, his eyes on the way his cock thrusted into you. Your body elevated upwards, and your glossy eyes caught a glance of the cross above your bed.

If this corruption was so cruel, so vile, why did it feel so fucking amazing?

Flares of euphoria spurred throughout your body as wanton, lewd noises elicited out of your mouth, and filled your bedroom. Embers of pure, raw desire were in Eddie’s eyes the second they fell back into yours, his breath shuddering his rib cages.

A firestorm grew in your stomach, and your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a harsh moan out of him. “‘M gonna cum,” you told him, your chest falling up and down rapidly. “I need to cum, Eds.”

“What a sensitive whore you are,” he taunted, and you groaned, the fire spreading into your thighs. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for your God.”

Your lids sealed shut as your climax peaked and rushed out of you, your body moving with a hard jolt to it. Eddie nearly laughed mockingly at you, your delicate, unripe body, now sweating and shaking from sinful sex.

You barely had collected the fact Eddie referred to him as your God, but you didn’t hate it.

You liked it.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth,” Eddie said, and helped you sit up as he took off the condom. “I always told you I’d find a way for you to worship me. Get on your knees, angel.”

Eddie tossed his condom into your trash bin, turning his attention back onto you.

You obeyed, and stumbled to your bedroom floor, collapsing down onto your knees. Eddie seized your rosary, and took the opportunity to tie up your wrists with the symbolized jewelry. You whined, tugging at your hostaged wrists.

“Open your mouth for me,” Eddie said, standing in front of you. Your mouth popped open, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, creeping them to the back of your throat. You gagged the second his fingers hit your throat, your eyes watering.

You stared up at him with pure and pious eyes, that were almost daunting, too.

“How are you going to be able to take my cock, when you can barely take my fingers, angel?” He asked, and a tear trickled down your cheek. He was amused by this single tear. “You worship me?”

You nodded as his fingers left your mouth, his knuckles brushing along your cheek. “Yes, I worship you. Only you,” you assured, giving the edge of his palm a delicate, small kiss. “You’re my religion.”

He chuckled. “Such a good little thing you are.”

Eddie’s fingers curled into your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. His hips pushed forward, his cock stuffing your opened mouth.

You remembered your friend told you about blowjobs — that you make sure your teeth don’t touch, or it makes it unpleasant. Your friend wasn’t as faithful or pure as you were, only going to Catechism to please her parents.

Eddie’s cock continuously hit the back of your throat, drawing inchorenet gargles from you as tears lined at the brim of your eyes. Your throat was brutalized, yet you soaked into the pain of it, taking pleasure in every second of it.

Your eyes rolled back the deeper his cock went, his teeth gritting together, and moaned your name like a mantra.

Eddie’s head fell back, his hips snapping into your face, and you gurgled, trying your best to breathe out of your nostrils. “Shit, shit, I’m close,” he told you, and that was the only warning you were given, nothing else. “Keep your mouth steady and open for your God, baby.”

His climax flooded into your mouth, your tongue getting a salty taste of his high, and he pushed his cock out of your mouth. He tried to catch his breath, sweat beading at his forehead and body, his fingers unhooking from your hair.

“Let me see, doll,” Eddie said, and you happily showed him the way his cum sat on your tongue. “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Swallow it.”

You closed your mouth, taking it all down at once, and he kissed the top of your head. He unknotted the rosary, and your wrists were glad to be free.

Eddie sat the jewelry on your bed stand, and helped you up, sitting you down on your bed afterwards. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panicked, and you shook your head, a few strands of your hair matted to your teary, sweating cheeks.

“Did I do okay?” You asked, and he frowned, cupping your cheeks, caressing them lovingly with his thumbs.

“You were wonderful, sweet girl. So good,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and dressed. You still have that project.”

You groaned, barely remembering it. “Oh fuck!”

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