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k-germsworld · 14 days ago

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Meet and Greet

Eunha x M! Reader feat Sinb, Umji

4.3k words

Viviz's comeback is imminent, so Na.V has started pre-ordering a lot of albums just to be able to attend the fan meeting. Of course, I am no exception. I also try my best to buy their albums just to be able to attend the fan meeting. A week before Viviz's comeback, I received a package. In the package was the album I pre-ordered and a letter. There was a ticket for a fan meeting in the envelope, and it was also noted that no one else could know except me. The ticket said "Viviz Pre-Comeback Meet and Greet". It also had the venue and date and number "05" written on it. I held onto the ticket with some doubt until the day of the event.

The Day

I went according to the location written on the ticket. Although the venue was a little remote, I went anyway. When I arrived at the venue, I found that I was not the only one who got the ticket. But there didn't seem to be many people at the venue, only about 10 to 15 people. We waited patiently on site until the appointed time. At the appointed time, the curtain of the stage slowly opened. Behind the slowly opening curtain, there were three large cubicles and a person who walked out and stood in the middle of the stage.

“Welcome to Viviz Pre-Comeback Meet and Greet, Na.V. We have invited only a small number of people, hoping that you who are present can fully enjoy your time alone with Viviz. Without further ado, let me introduce today's procedures to you." In order to let us enjoy the show as quickly as possible, the host quickly got to the point and we listened to him carefully.

According to the host, we don't know who is in which cubicles. We can only rely on our own feelings to find the members we like. He also explained to us that this fan meeting is very different from other ones. So don't be surprised by what happens when you enter the cubicles and enjoy it. After you are done in the cubicles, then put your ticket in the raffle box, and the winner will get a very special benefit. Since there are 15 of us, to be fair, one cubicle can only queue for 5 people. First come, first served. “Na.V are you ready?” After listening to everything, the host asked us. “Yes!!” We answered loudly together.

“3…..”

“2…..”

“1…..”

“Let’s Start!”

After the host finished counting down, we all chose the cubicles according to our feelings. Everyone wanted to choose their favourite member. Of course, I wanted to, but I liked all three of them so I had a hard time making the choice. I chose the cubicle on the left, and I happened to be the last person in the cubicle on the left. There is a manager standing next to each cubicle, so that he can instruct fans to enter, and then after the fan inside is done, he will instruct another fan to enter. Since there was no time limit and I was not sure how long I would have to wait, I looked around. I noticed that some of the fans who went in came out very quickly, but some took a long time to come out. But without exception, everyone had a very happy expression on their faces when they came out. My queue wasn't very slow, but when other cubicles have already entered the second fans or the third fans and my team is still with the first fans.

No matter how long I wait, it's worth it, as long as it's for Viviz. So I just have to wait more patiently. After about 30 minutes, it was finally my turn. The manager signalled that I could enter the cubicle. I entered the cubicle and found a bed inside. Eunha was sitting on the bed. I was very surprised by Eunha's look today. She was wearing a blue camisole and a black skirt. The dress perfectly brought out her cleavage, while the short skirt brought out her snow-white thighs. I was completely attracted by her beauty and didn't react until she started talking to me. "Hey, don't be nervous. You can sit next to me now. And show me your ticket." I showed her my ticket. She looked at it and smirked. When I got the ticket, I noticed the "body part" section, and mine said "hands". But I still don't understand what this section can do in this meet and greet. "The benefit you drew is a hand. Do you know what it is used for?" I shook my head to indicate I don't know. "Just like this." After she finished speaking, she used her hand to stroke my cock through my pants. "Wait a minute, Eunha. What are you doing?" I was frightened by her sudden action. "This is the main reason for this fan meeting. Before the comeback, we all wanted to get the love of Na.V, so we proposed this fan meeting to the company. You don't need to feel guilty, you just need to enjoy it. The more cum you ejaculate, the greater support you give us." As she spoke, she took off my pants. "Your cock is neither too big nor too small. Although some of the guys' cocks are bigger than yours, I still like your size. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn't.

Eunha wrapped her hand around my cock and stroked it slowly up and down. “Oh fuck…. Eunha, your hands are so soft.” I said to her, "So, do you like it?" She smiled and asked me. I could only nod because it felt so good to have her hand stroking my cock. After she smiled with satisfaction, she spit some saliva on my cock. My cock was throbbing as her warm saliva dripped onto it. She spread the saliva on my cock evenly on my cock as lubrication. She was stroking my cock while looking at me with lustful eyes. Her eyes seemed to tell me to cum quickly because she wanted my semen. Her look made me want to kiss her lips unconsciously, but she stopped me. "You can't do that. Now I can only help you cum with my hands. But if you are drawn in the lucky draw later, it will be a different story." Although I really wanted to kiss Eunha right now, I didn't want to be kicked out by the manager, so I had to suppress myself and enjoy the handjob she gave me first. Her hands never stopped, and if she felt her saliva was about to dry, she would continue to spit some saliva on my cock. Under the dual stimulation of her warm saliva and her hands, I cum a lot. Her hands were all covered with my cum. She brought her hands to her nose and smelled my cum. "I hope your cum won't be only on my hands later, but in my mouth or in my wet pussy." Her dirty talk made me hard again, but my round was over so I had to put my pants back on. Just as I was about to leave the cubicle, Eunha stopped me. ""I hope the goddess of luck will favor you in the upcoming lucky draw." She said to me. Although the chances were slim, her words gave me a little hope. "I hope that too." I said this to her and left the cubicle. Afterwards, I gave my ticket to the staff present. He put my ticket into the lottery box. He also gave the same number as on the ticket.

When all the fans came out of the cubicle and sat down in their seats, Viviz also came out of the cubicle and greeted Na.V. “Annyeonghaseyo, Viviz imnida.” Although it was just a simple greeting, it made the fans present cheer. Viviz also smiled happily. Soon, the host appeared. “Na.V, did you guys enjoy what happened just now?“ The host asked. “Yes!!!” Na.V replied in unison. "Do you guys want to enjoy it more? There was no rejection, and all fans responded loudly that they needed more. The host took out the lottery box. "While I know everyone wants more, this will only be available to three fans and the three lucky fans will be drawn from this lottery box." The whole audience booed instantly. "I know everyone will be unhappy with this decision, but the three of us can't satisfy so many fans at once, so we have to do this." Hearing the boos, Umji immediately took the microphone to comfort the fans. "If you are not selected in the lucky draw later, don't be sad. We will take selfies with you one-on-one. It doesn't matter what poses you make during the selfie." Sinb took the mic and continued. When the fans heard this, they immediately stopped booing. "Even if you are not picked, don't be discouraged. After all, our music promotion activities will start next. So we will definitely meet a lot in the future. There may be more exciting benefits waiting for you then." Eunha continued to comfort. After hearing these words, the fans stopped making noise. Eunha handed the mic back to the host. "Since everyone agrees, let's draw the lottery without further delay. Maybe you will be the lucky winner." The host heated up the atmosphere. The person who draws the lottery is none other than Viviz. They need to serve the holder of the number they draw. Umji drew the first number and handed it to the host. "The first number is 08." The host announced. The fan holding the number 08 jumped up and cheered excitedly. Next, Sinb drew the number 06. Just before Eunha drew the lottery ticket, I was praying that I would be the lucky one in the end. “The last lucky winner is……” I was very nervous until the host made the announcement. “Is 05” After hearing the host's announcement, I looked at the number in my hand in disbelief, and then shouted it out loudly. “Oh yeah !!!!!” I looked at Eunha, and she looked at me. I had already started imagining what was going to happen next.

Although many fans who were not selected were disappointed, they regained some excitement when they thought about what they had just said about taking one-on-one selfies and doing any actions. The three of us who were selected were first taken backstage by the staff because we couldn’t take selfies with them for the time being. The remaining fans were invited to the stage by the staff and asked to line up. The staff explained to them that they could do anything bold to Viviz during the selfie. So the fans started to think about what to do to them. During the selfie, some fans grabbed Eunha's big tits, some asked Sinb to step on his dick, some kissed Umji directly, and some even asked them to grab his dick with their hands and take a selfie. Some even asked to take a selfie with their thighs holding the dick. Every fan took a photo with each member. This session lasted about 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, the fans who had taken the selfie photos left the venue one after another, and the three of us were informed by the staff that we could go to the front stage. We arrived at the front desk and saw Viviz had returned to the cubicle. But this time we were informed which member was in which cubicle, so we just had to go into the cubicle of the member who had just drawn our number.

The three of us stood in front of the cubicles and each entered the cubicle we were supposed to enter. This time I went into the middle cubicle. Eunha was very excited to see me go into her cubicle. When I saw Eunha again, all I could think of was her masturbating me and whispering dirty words in my ear. These images gave me an erection. Eunha saw the bulge in my pants and smirked. "Come and sit here." She patted the bed and motioned for me to sit next to her. I followed her instructions and sat next to her. I sat next to her and I was so nervous that my body was almost stiff and I didn't dare to move. "Don't be nervous, I'll let you freely use me from now until you want to end." She seemed to see that I was very nervous, so she leaned on my shoulder and said in my ear again. I was still shocked by her words, even though I had just ejaculated in her hand. I turned my head to look at her. She kissed me without saying a word. She stopped kissing and asked me. "This is the kiss you wanted just now. How is it? Do you like it? She stopped kissing and asked me. ”Yes, I love it so much!” After hearing this, she continued to kiss me with a happy face. While she was kissing me, her hand continued to touch my cock. "Your cock is already so hard from just kissing." She broke the kiss and teased me. "Where do you want to put your rock hard cock in me?" she asked me as she continued to tease my cock. Her hands are so skillful in playing cock, I can't even form a word when her hand keeps playing with cock. She kept looking at me and waiting for my answer. When she saw that I didn't answer, she kept teasing my cock with her thighs. "So where do you want your cock in me right now? Answer me quickly or else Sinb and Umji will already be enjoying the cum and I'll still be here waiting for your answer." Hearing Eunha's urgent request, I forced myself to say my first answer. "Mouth!!" She seems confused and asks me why. "Your mouth is so tempting. I want to know the feeling of your soft mouth wrapped around my cock and how warm your mouth is." When she heard my answer, she smirked.

She kissed me again. But this time it was different, she stopped quickly and started kissing my neck. Then she took off my shirt and started sucking my nipples. My body trembled because of her sudden kiss on my nipples. She held one nipple in her mouth and teased the other nipple with her fingers. My nipples were completely hard because of her teasing. Then, she stuck out her tongue and licked my belly button. My body was now covered with her saliva. But she seemed not satisfied yet, and she was quickly unbuttoning my pants. My cock was fully exposed to Eunha again. Although it was not big, it was the size she liked. "You know what? I've been thinking about the perfect cock for me. We've been choosing the right cock for ourselves, and you're the perfect cock for me. The lottery and everything is fake, we rigged it a little so we could choose the person we wanted." Eunha looked at my cock and told the truth.I'm not interested in the truth. But I'm glad that I became her ideal person, so I'm going to enjoy Eunha even more. After saying all that, she took my cock into her mouth. "Oh damn..... Eunha. Your mouth is so fucking warm and soft." I let out a moan. She ignored me and continued to suck my cock, she took my entire length into her mouth, I could even feel the vibrations in her throat on my glans. She slowly pulled my cock out. My cock was completely covered with her saliva. I also had some pre-cum leaking out because of her skillful blowjob. After she spit my cock out,She stuck her tongue out to lick my pre-cum and then licked my dick all over and then took my cock into her mouth again. These skilled blowjob techniques made me feel like I was in heaven. Just when I was enjoying the blowjob she was giving me, suddenly the cubicle was raised.

After the cubicle was raised, the six of us were completely exposed on the stage. But luckily no one else was watching from the audience. I looked around while I was still enjoying Eunha's blowjob. I just realized that Sinb and Umji were already naked and having sex with their fans. Sinb is riding a fan's cock in cowgirl style, the sound of their bodies colliding and the fan's moans make the whole scene very erotic. On the other hand, Umji was being fucked by fans in the doggy style. She begged the fans to spanked her hard and fuck her harder. Sinb and Umji's moans filled the venue, turning me on more and more. These scenes made me become bolder when I saw other fans already putting their dicks in their holes. At this point, I stood up and grabbed Eunha's head and started face-fucking her. She didn't resist at all, she just simply enjoyed me fucking her face roughly. Even though she was drooling from my face fucking, she didn't seem to be in any pain at all. Instead, she was looking forward to the moment when my semen would spurt out. Actually, when Eunha was giving me a blowjob, I was already craving for cum. So I fucked her face hard and cummed into her mouth in just a few strokes. She didn't spit out my cock immediately, but instead waited for me to shoot all my semen into her throat. “Fuck, you had cum alot in my mouth. It’s so tasty." She swallowed all my semen as she spoke. "How about we have a second round? After the first time, you should know where you need to put your hard cock in me this time." She smirked and hinting me to fuck her pussy this time. Her few simple words gave me another erection. I got an instant erection because of other reasons. Because Sinb and Umji were asking fans to cum inside them. ”Just cum inside me, I want you to creampie me so much.” As soon as they finished speaking, two fans instantly creampied them. Their pussies were dripping with fans' cum, and like Eunha, they were still not satisfied and asked for a second round. Eunha's teasing and the scenes of Sinb and Umji having sex made me so excited that I got an erection again instantly.

I quickly pushed Eunha down on the bed. Then, I spread her thighs and found that her pussy was already very wet. I didn't put my cock into her wet pussy right away, but touched her pussy first. Just touching the outside of her pussy, her wet pussy quickly soaked my fingers. I slowly put my hand into her pussy. “Stop teasing me already. I can’t wait to feel your dick inside me already.” Eunha was already very sensitive, just putting it in made her moan loudly. I ignored her and inserted my second finger into her cunt. She was soon squirting as my fingers thrust in and out. My fingers and the bed she was lying on were filled with her juices. I took my fingers out and sent her juices into my mouth. The taste of her juices made me very excited. Her juice was like an aphrodisiac, filling my mind with horniness. I aimed my cock at her pussy and quickly thrust it in. The moment it went in, Eunha seemed to feel an unprecedented pleasure. "Fuck, your cock fills me up completely. Keep going, don't stop. Treat me like your sex doll. Fuck me hard." I grabbed her waist and started to thrust in and out. Her tits swaying from the thrusting and her lewd expression of enjoyment, all of these things stimulated me very much and made me fuck her harder. "Eunha, your pussy makes me feel so good. It's so great to have sex with you today." She put her hands on my shoulders and said to me with lustful eyes: "Since you like fucking me so much, don't stop until you cum all your sperm into me." Her words encouraged me and I increased my speed. As I went faster and faster, I wanted to cum more and more. She kept moaning because of my thrusts. Her moans were irresistible to me. Soon, I came. I obeyed her and shot all my second load into her pussy. While my cock was still shooting warm cum in her pussy, Eunha put her arms around my neck and pulled me close to her and we kissed. She let me go when she felt my second load was finished. I pulled my cock out and saw that even my second load was very heavy. Her pussy was immediately flooded with cum.

I thought it was all over after I cum twice. "I want more. I haven't enjoyed it enough. I want your semen. I am yours today." But Eunha still wanted a third round. After hearing this, I agreed to her request without hesitation. Then I turned her around. Her nice ass was now facing me. Her ass was round and meaty and it made me even harder. Before I put it in her hole, I tried putting my hard cock between her ass and started rubbing it. "Fuck, your ass feels so good too." Her ass feels totally different from her pussy. "Stop teasing my ass already, faster put it in my pussy.” She couldn't bear the teasing any more and just wanted me to put it in quickly. I listened to her and put my cock into her pussy. I started fucking Eunha in doggy style. I grabbed her ass and pushed it back and forth to make it easier for me to fuck her. As I was fucking Eunha, I kept my eyes peeled to see what was going on. I saw Umji doing a 69 with a fan, and another fan was about to put his dick in Sinb's ass, and although she kept trying to stop him, it was finally put in her ass. When it was inserted into her ass, she moaned loudly. After my observation, I turned my attention back to Eunha. While pumping her, my hands moved to her tits and started fondling them. Her tits are really a huge temptation for me, and I can't help but want to touch them every time. “Yes，keep touching them. I love the way you touch them. You make me even horny right now." She seemed to really enjoy having her breasts touched, as if that was her sensitive area. “Eunha, you are so great! I might cum again soon.” She is a huge temptation to me. Each time of penetration does not last long but can make me cum a very large amount of semen. “Just cum everywhere you like as long as it's my body part.” Soon, I pulled out my cock and shot my semen on her round ass. The white semen covered her ass, making her ass look very sexy.

Just as I finished the third shot, the other two finished at the same time. The fan who was doing 69 with Umji ejaculated in her mouth, and all her juices were ejaculated into his mouth. And Sinb's ass had obvious palm prints, which obviously showed that she was spanked during the process of thrusting, and the fan's semen was cum into her ass. All three of us thoroughly enjoyed it. "We ended at the same time, how about we switch partners?" Someone proposed this to us. We all nodded in agreement without objection. When we were about to take action, the manager beside us stopped us. "You can't switch partners at will, you can only focus on the partner you choose." We had no choice but to obey. The three of them seemed to have reached a consensus, they stood up and pushed the three of us down on the bed. Viviz rides on our cocks at the same time in perfect synchronicity. Eunha rode my cock and started moving her hips to pump herself. She looked at me with very lustful eyes and her hands were on my body, while my hands were holding her waist. "Did you like my performance today?" Eunha asked me. Her continuous movements made her sweat break out. Her body was full of sweat beads. Some of the sweat even dripped onto my body, but I didn't care and I really liked it. "Yes, I fucking love your performance today, Eunha." She smiled at me with satisfaction and kissed me. As she was kissing me she forgot to keep moving her hips so I put my hands on her ass and started moving my hips to pump into her. She felt the force of my thrusts so she broke the kiss and moaned loudly. “Cum inside me this time.” “As you wish.” After that, I shot my semen into her again. She felt the warm sperm all shot into her. She lifted herself up from my dick and showed me how much I cum inside her. My cum dripped out of her pussy and onto my body. She smiled at me and knelt between my legs. She licked all the cum she had dripped onto my body and then licked my cock. She licked my cock clean after I had ejaculated four times, leaving no cum on my cock except her saliva. Eunha also kissed my cock to thank me for the cum today. "That's it for today, thank you for all the cum today." I smiled at her happily.

When I finished, the other two finished as well. Sinb and Umji also knelt between their thighs and licked their cocks clean to thank them for the cum today. All six of us collapsed on the bed exhausted. After a break, they thanked us again and promised us that they would do a good job in this promotion and hold such surprise events again if there is a chance. We also agreed with Viviz that we would be there on time to support them.

#gfriend smut #gfriend eunha smut #viviz smut #viviz eunha smut #eunha smut #jung eunbi smut

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remotewatch · 6 months ago

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for this simp I have no sympathy 💳🏃‍♀️

part two section a here!

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 3.5k wc

summary: Jack’s a great boss. He doesn’t care how often you work remote, the benefits are actually competitive, and he lets you run up his Amex as long as you’ll spit in his coffee. Wait, what?

cw: shameless smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), sugaring, inappropriate workplace dynamics, findom, submissive loser jack, ooc (he’s at the office), spit kink, semi public sex?, he calls the reader a bitch but doesn’t mean it, somehow a plot snuck in here, def needs a part 2 eventually

AN: this one goes out to @augustghosts !!! Happy happy birthday and thank you for matching my freak mwah

minors dni pls I don’t want y’all thinking this is realistic or healthy

It’s a technically perfect relationship, as much as you’re aware of the risk of it all going to shit at any moment. Somehow that thought always pops back up at the jewelry counter. Your eyes trace aloofly over the puddles of diamonds littering the cobalt velvet tray before you and finally land on a comparatively understated anklet.

“I’ll take this one, please.”

“Excellent choice, madam.”

You waste no time shoving the evidence of your purchases into an overstuffed trash can prior to slipping the anklet on and dashing to the coffee shop closest to your building. As you wait outside, you can’t help but wonder if you’re visible from Jack’s office. You absolutely are, and he’s been glued to his window like a creep trying to pick your hair out of the crowd since the moment you left, but there’s no way for you to know that.

The line moves faster than usual, and, soon enough, you’re balancing 4 orders of varying sizes with your work tote in one hand and carefully removing the lid of Jack’s cup with the other. Black with half a pump of sugar free vanilla and the massive glob of spit you deposit in there as you traverse the crosswalk.

It had started rather innocuously, and you probably wouldn’t have ever picked up on anything if he didn’t have such an awful poker face. There was a work dinner, some dick of an exec retiring, and out of the corner of your eye you’d spotted Jack placing his personal card in with his company one when the bill came around. That was a little weird. It was much weirder that he looked like you’d caught him pissing in the break room sink when he realized you’d noticed.

Once you had, it was hard not to spot the gunmetal edge of his black card peeking out from under the company one at every single outing, though you made a point to feign ignorance. You’d asked one of your coworkers about it after you had to skip one night to visit family, but she was just as clueless as you felt.

“I was sitting next to him the whole night. He only used one card,” That forced you to backpedal and pretend you must have been mistaken; no sense in drumming up gossip before getting to the bottom of whatever it was.

Still, work was work, and things had been so hectic that the guilty look on Jack’s face had nearly faded from your memory by the time you came storming off the elevator two weeks later, drenched from forgetting your umbrella, one heel broken, and late for the first time since you’d been hired. You’d been so focused on wringing out your sweater that you had no chance of hearing or seeing him round the corner until he was already crashing into you and spilling (thankfully) lukewarm coffee down the both of you. If that didn’t push you over the edge, his attempt at a joke to lighten the situation certainly did.

“God, Jack, is everything a fucking game to you?! Fuck off!!” came flying out before you could stop it. Your only saving grace was that your entire team was already in a meeting across the floor, but that didn’t stop you from retreating to the bathroom and leaving him no time to say anything.

You were so beyond screwed. You’d busted your ass to get this job and had completely blown it over spilled coffee of all things. By the time you’d dried yourself to a somewhat acceptable level and crept over to the closed door of his corner office, the stomach-dropping dread of plunging back into the job market was already settling in.

There’s a weird clatter when you knock, and Jack looks the slightest bit frazzled when he opens the door, a few curls of his usually annoyingly perfect hair sticking up on one side.

“Can I apologize?” He stifles the smirk that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth like he’s afraid you’ll scream at him again.

“You don’t need to apologize, but sure. Come in.” At any other time, you’d feel dangerously comfortable in his office. It’s not corporate at all: so packed with weathered sunshine-smelling afghans and little wooden beach trinkets that seem to multiply every time you leave that it feels more like an antique store than a place of business. Today, the sight of it all makes you nauseous as you try to do damage control.

Thankfully, he cuts you off before the stammering mess of a groveling attempt unravels completely.

“Really, it’s fine. Do you think I can afford to fire anyone right now?”

“I guess not?”

He can’t quite conceal a wince when he sees the puddle you’re leaving on the carpet despite your best efforts.

“Well, you can’t work all day dressed like that. Would you go across the street and let me get you something new? I’ll call and tell them you’re coming.”

“Jack, I’m not going to Loro Piana for a change of clothes. It’s one day, it’ll be fine-“

“Please? And then we can forget all about this and just focus.” Fuck. His mouth looks so good asking nicely. The implications are not lost on you, that you’re crossing a VERY stark line here, but the way he’s looking at you with those perfect fucking doe eyes has your brain buzzing too loudly to care as much as you probably should.

The staff are even more attentive than you’d expect, to an almost unnerving degree. You’ve barely set one foot in the door before your coat and bag are lifted off you and you’re whisked up to one of their VIC suites. There’s already a rack waiting for you, but the sales associate’s not so subtle mention of a shower in the suite seizes your attention. Even though it’s only ten minutes, the water pressure and whatever is in that body wash make you feel like you’ve fast forwarded through a week at the spa. When you step out and look around for your old outfit, you’re timidly informed that they’ve been taken to the dry cleaner as per the cardholder’s request.

“Oh, yes. Thank you, I must have forgotten,” you mutter in a deeply unconvincing attempt to give the impression you’ve been in a dressing room this nice before. As tempting as it is to thumb through all of your options, you can’t afford to waste any more time and throw on the first two pieces on the rack: an ecru knit trouser and short sleeved sweater set. One of the price tags flips over as you tug them from their hangers, and you have to take a deep breath to stave off the tunnel vision the number on it inspires.

Of course, they both fit perfectly and feel like an absolute dream. As soon as you begin to move towards the door, the same sales associate pipes up again.

“Mr. Schlossberg mentioned that you were also interested in some leather goods. Is that still the case?” You turn to see a massive array of belts atop a disgustingly ornate glass (or is that crystal?) table along the back wall with a dozen pairs each of coordinating loafers, oxfords, and pumps underneath. A small sliver of guilt turns over in your gut; you really shouldn’t, but fuck it, that line has already been crossed, and you can’t even pretend it’s a difficult decision.

“Yes, I was! Thank you so much for reminding me!”

She helps you settle on a pair of gleaming chestnut loafers with a narrow matching belt, and you choose not to dwell on how Jack knows your exact clothing and shoe size.

You hate how much of a spring it puts in your step as you hurry back across the street. The meeting is somehow still going on, so you quickly pop over to Jack’s office to thank him again and definitely not to show off how sweet your ass looks in these pants.

You’re so ecstatic from the whiplash of remaining employed after telling your boss to fuck off right to his face that you stupidly swing his door open without knocking first.

Jack slams his laptop shut, but the audio pause is delayed, and the there’s nowhere for him to hide as its speakers blare out clear as day:

“-my perfect good boy. Give me all your cum. Yeah, you’re my favorite ATM.”

The secondhand embarrassment is absolutely brutal, so you imagine his stomach is falling out of his ass right about now. He purses his lips together as he stands up painfully slow, fingertips pressed to the desk so hard they’ve lost color. God, he’s never this quiet. By the time he stalks over to your side of the desk and leans back against it, your heart is pounding so erratically you think you might drop dead right there on his pashmina rug. The new outfit suddenly feels heavier, like every wordless second he spends squinting at you adds a few ounces to the knit. Your suppressed sigh of relief forces its way out of your nose when the next words out of Jack’s mouth aren’t “go pack your desk”.

“Do you plan on telling anyone about that?” His expression is totally unreadable and it’s freaking you out; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him completely serious, even in the most dire of time crunches.

“No. Am I still getting fired?” This time, Jack lets a smile bloom across his face like he couldn’t stamp it down if he tried.

“I don’t think I could ever bring myself to do that.”

Once again, some would say stupidly, your relief emboldens you.

“Why do you use two cards when we all go out?”

He gives your outfit a slow once over that would be repulsive coming from anyone else before glancing at the idle laptop, then back at you with a sprinkle of condescension mixed with his normal charisma.

“I like buying you shit.”

The frankness of it all is embarrassingly hot.

“And it doesn’t feel the same using the company card?”

“Not at all.”

That sliver of guilt is back, but it feels more obligatory than genuine. It’s currently being steamrolled by carnal curiosity.

“Why do you like it?” Jack’s eyes are practically sparkling with anticipation as he glances down.

“Why didn’t you turn down the belt?”

He presses his luck when you hesitate to respond. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying nice things, you know.” Still, nothing, so he strolls over to the floor safe and hands you a bulging cash envelope from its contents.

“For your rent, or whatever. So you know I’m serious. You don’t have to do anything else, but I want to ask for one favor before you get back to work.”

Your throat dries up, and your expression must betray your assumption and feelings because he’s quickly correcting you with a small chuckle:

“No, not that,” as he’s twisting the lid off his thermos and handing it to you. That’s weird, but whatever. You’ll happily take drinking out of his mug over bruising your throat if it comes down to it. Jack gently pushes the rim down away from your mouth with two spread fingers when you go to take a sip.

“Would you spit in it? Please?” This time, you don’t give your doubts a chance to articulate themselves.

It hits the insulated inner wall with a shrill ping and drips slowly down into Jack’s coffee, and before you have a chance to fuck this up, you’re forcing the tumbler back into his hands and retreating to the doorway, envelope clutched in a death grip.

“You have a call at eleven. It’ll become my problem if you’re late again, so maybe figure something out.” you suggest on your way out. Just as the door clicks shut, you fail to stop yourself from turning back and get an eyeful of him swirling the mixture like he’s at a wine tasting and gulping it down in one shot.

Your new arrangement develops rather quickly after that. Now that he’s no longer trying to conceal his interests, Jack is practically falling at your feet whenever the two of you are alone. The rest of the team is already used to you showing up early and staying late, so what difference does it make in their eyes if you’re actually doing work or dragging him around his office by his tie and beating a raise out of him with his own shoes? Initially, you shy away from indulging as much as he’d like and keep your authorized user status just for groceries, rent, the boring shit. It’s not until the first time he sits you down in his chair with his laptop open and tells you not to stop shopping until you’re squeezing his tongue that you allow yourself to see the real appeal of having an unlimited credit line. He’s already got your info on autofill; god, what a thoughtful little freak, you think as you book recurring massage after manicure after private museum tour after clearing out your Bergdorf cart. The digits and commas are blurring before your eyes as you struggle to navigate the Cartier homepage, and soon you’re just clicking add to cart on anything that slightly catches your attention. You cursor twitches once, twice, in time with the unrelenting work of his fingers (he refuses to roll up his sleeves, says he loves you sticking to his cuff links), but you manage to click purchase all before focusing your full attention on your incoming orgasm.

Jack tugs his phone out to check his pending charges without letting your clit slip from between his lips, and the elated moan he lets vibrate through you when he sees the final total has you drenching him down to his shirt collar.

Since he’s always this desperate, it’s hard to play along with the little song and dance he does of pretending you need to rein it in. You have to bite your tongue to not laugh and just say “no problem!” every time he requests that you please stay within budget today after his first sip of spit coffee. Obviously, there’s never been one; the only parameter you give yourself is a minimum of two supremely gaudy purchases per week for him to “notice” so you can get the ball rolling. Like today. Your new heels are hideous and feel like they’re lined with steel wool, but they fulfill their duty of catching the attention that was already yours to begin with.

“Those aren’t the shoes you had on this morning.” You don’t even glance up from your monitor.

“Nope.”

“When did you find time to go to Saks again?”

This time, you give him a look like he’s 500 years old and couldn’t rotate a pdf to save his life.

“I was working remote from their cafe. The chairs are really nice.”

“Yeah, they’re real nice in my office, too.” It’s clearly not a suggestion.

As per usual, you elect to sit on Jack’s desk just to needle him. When he lifts your leg to get a better look at the new heels, his nose crinkles up in disgust.

“These things will fuck up your back.”

“They’re car to table only, you should know that.” Your other foot swings around to tuck against his sacrum and nudge him in between your legs.

He’s trying his best to act upset, but you can feel his dick throbbing through his slacks.

“How much did you spend today?” You make a big show of pretending to think for a moment.

“I’m not sure. More than you made?”

“You fucking bitch,” And that second leg is shooting up between you and kicking him back hard enough that he bumps into the filing cabinet.

“I ought to report you to HR for that.” only then does he notice the anklet, glinting wickedly under the soft amber lights. Jack pulls your foot closer and with frighteningly little effort nearly tugs you straight off his desk.

“Is this new, too? How much?” He’s got the same look on his face as when his manners are wearing thin on the phone, all carefully applied nonchalance ruined by the the ravenous impatience in his eyes.

“Ten,” and he straight up shudders. He presses the cool platinum against his cheek, and his eyes slip closed as he jerkily ruts against you. Through three layers of fabric, you can still feel every bend in his pulsing underside vein.

“You didn’t think to ask me first?”

“Why would I? It’s my money.” The choked up sob that spills out of him is abruptly morphed into an irritated groan by a knock at the door.

“Fuck, I can’t deal with this. Get rid of it.”

He’s plunked you into his chair and scuttled under the desk well before you can remind him that that’s not in your job description. Jack pulls your seat close enough to shove his nose right into your cameltoe just as the door swings open and one of your least amicable clients comes stomping in.

“Where the hell is he?! First it was ‘email me in a month’, now his direct line calls are getting dropped! My intern had to show me his fucking Instagram to prove that he was even in town!” And he keeps going, but you struggle to register any of it over Jack ever so politely licking you over your stockings like he’s taken you out for a lovely date first and not at all like he’s using you as a human shield to deflect this moron.

“I’m sorry. He’s not currently available.” Jack vacuums your clit right into his mouth at that, rolling and twisting his tongue over it like it’s a goddamn ring pop.

“That’s a load of horseshit. John’s never worked hard enough to be this fucking unreachable. Where is he?!” Normally, you’d be at least a little concerned about how close this guy looks to throttling you for your boss’s location, but the way Jack’s cheeks stick and unstick to your thighs as he rocks his head as best he can in the confined space is diverting most of your attention.

“I understand your frustration, sir,” your customer service voice wavers as he relentlessly sucks you through the fabric. “But there’s simply nothing I can do. Mr. Schlossberg is in meetings for the rest of the day and specifically asked not to be disturbed.” You press a warning foot against his dick, and he groans so loud you’re forced to squeeze your thighs around his head and cough to muffle it. Luckily, the client is too far up his own ass to notice.

“This is outrageous! He can’t just blow everyone off forever because his name is on the fucking building!”

“Your concerns are duly noted. Can I help you with anything else?” He’s already halfway out the door.

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” is yelled half at you, half in hope that Jack is in earshot. As soon as the door slams, you’re scooting backwards and pulling him after you by his shirt. Not that you’d have to, as he’s crawling to chase you across the carpet until you’re pressed right up against the floor to ceiling windows and white knuckling his armrests.

“Wolford doesn’t make these anymore!” you protest when he shreds your tights down the middle to lick you properly. You feel more than hear him laugh in response, and you swear you also detect a muffled “womp womp”. He always fingers you like shining up your seat is the whole point, like he’s only doing this to get to crudely lap and slurp the results up from under you just to spit them back onto your clit. You’re beginning to suspect he only took up bouldering to improve their endurance for you.

Jack finally relents when you twist both hands deep into his hair and drag him off of you. It’s gone curlier around the edges from his efforts, and paired with the overly dramatic lip smack and megawatt smile he hits you with, you can’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“You don’t seem that broken up about it.” He presses one more kiss to your clit before standing up and turning back to the file on his desk without missing a beat.

“Anyway, T&G wants this cleaned up by Thursday, so we should probably get back to it.” There’s no way he’s serious; he’s just trying to rile you up by pacing around, yapping and aimlessly shuffling papers with bubbles of saliva and pussy juice sliding down his face, but you hate that it works so well. Before you realize what you’re doing, you’ve wrapped your fingers around Jack’s tie and abruptly pulled him back down onto all fours, sending the unstapled proposal scattering across the floor.

“Nothing will happen to our portfolio if you just shut the fuck up for five minutes,” He’s all too eager to screw the rest of the day’s schedule when he rests his chin between your legs on the chair’s seat and grins cheekily up at you.

“Only five?”

#jack schlossberg #calling all cherry emoji addicts #fawn wearing uggs enjoyers #unreleased Lana enthusiasts #come get ur food #don’t get on my case about verb tenses I know what I’m doing and I’m having fun #you can be the boss slowed reverb #don’t ask me what his job is #I have no business calling him weird or gross when I’m doing all this #tell me i’m your national anthem #jack schlossberg x reader #Spotify

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captainkirkk · 8 months ago

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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Living Slow by kathkin

“Was that like. For real your mom?”

“Yes, Billy,” said Superman, with unwavering patience. “That was my mom.”

Billy looked at him for a long moment. He said, “Why?”

“Why?” Superman echoed. “What – what do you mean, why?”

Billy shrugged. “It’s a pretty simple question.”

“Well,” said Superman. “Be that as it may, I got no idea how to answer it.”

In the face of an extraterrestrial threat they don't fully understand, with all their usual hide-outs compromised, the Justice League are forced to go to ground. Fortunately Superman has a remote location where they can regroup. Less fortunately, it comes with some baggage.

Genome by JpegDotJpeg

Being Tim Drake-Wayne’s trophy husband and full-time sugar baby was hard work, but not without its benefits. Kon had gotten very used to getting whatever he wanted with Tim around. Clothes, tuition money.

Babies.

BNHA

someone blessed by blueseam

“Would you like to make a bet?”

It’s delivered in the same polite, measured tone Todoroki uses for almost everything, which only makes the offer more unsettling.

“Uh.”

If it will make him go away, Hitoshi might consider it.

Todoroki bets Shinsou that he won’t last a week in Class 2A without making at least one friend. He’s pretty confident he’ll get the money.

Too bad Midoriya only knows how to make friends by hurting himself.

ATLA

the dry grass catches fire by Anonymous

"Shoichi," Zuko says quietly, fighting to keep his voice steady. "What happened to Izumi?"

Shoichi is milk-pale. He shuffles on the spot, then opens his mouth. Zuko watches his lips move, hears the sound of his voice, and somehow does not fall apart.

"She was taken, my Lord," Shoichi says, and—

Every torch in the palace goes out.

A failed assassination attempt on Zuko results in his daughter being kidnapped instead. Zuko will stop at nothing to get her back.

i'll come crashing by ohmygodwhy

Li's scar is suddenly all Jet can think about. The scar, the scar, the old man’s hot hands warming his tea like he thought he could get away with firebending in the middle of a crowd.

or: After getting to know Li on the ferry, Jet sees Mushi heat his tea. Instead of assuming Li is also a firebender, Jet assess the situation and comes to a rather different conclusion.

House MD

Intensive Care by LadyEliza

Chase is sick. House won't leave him alone. The diagnostics team at PPTH has two cases to solve…

Clone Wars

a river runs through it by vizslasaber

There is a kind of fear that is unique to a Jedi.

(Cody and Obi-Wan. A lesson in attachment.)

#weekly fic round up #my posts #fic recs #atla recs #dc recs #sw recs #house md recs #bnha recs

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cheriladycl01 · 10 months ago

Note

Could you do fic for Checo Perez with wife reader? He had some insecurity about his abilities to race against the grid and she just hugged and comforted him. Add something else to it if you want to. Tag me later Thanks!! :))

The pressure is insane… - Sergio Perez x Wife! Reader

Plot: Checo replacing Alex was probably the best thing to happen to him in his Formula One career. However, so much pressure comes from being in that second Red Bull seat, not just the team but the fans too, and Checo doesn’t like the pressure on him.

When Checo came into the seat, and performance wasn’t great, people in the team told him it would be fine and to keep his head up because everyone knew he was getting used to how different the Red Bull Car is thanks to Max’s driving style.

But at it came to his second season, and it didn’t seem like things were improving much, Christian kept talking to him, explaining what was expected of him as if he hadn’t already informed him over 100 times.

He was just struggling with a car that was clearly built for their main driver, which is why Pierre crumbled under pressure and it’s why they couldn’t put up with Alex when he didn’t learn the car quick enough for them.

The gave Checo the benefit of the doubt throughout 2022, but when Red Bulls most dominant season came around it was without a doubt that your husband had to step up.

And in your eyes he had, getting two race wins under his belt, but he wasn’t consistent enough for Christian and it seemed that he wanted Checo to be actually challenging Max more.

It got worse when the Ferrari and McLaren started to beat him despite being in the worse car, and it was deemed a ‘driver issue’

Sergio felt awful, for a man who had been racing for as long as he had, he never felt doubtful of his abilities to put on a show and drive to the best of his ability.

But now, in the Red Bull seat, he actually understood the words ‘under pressure’ because he was under it constantly.

“Baby what’s wrong with you, you’ve been jittery all week” you ask your husband who was currently watching over some of his old races with a notepad.

“Hmmm?” He asks not even throwing a glance in your direction.

You knew he wasn’t listening.

“Well I just think that when aliens invade Earth that we should have a bunker ready and prepared so that you and I can help create a new civilisation after the government kill them all …” you say trying to grab a reaction from him.

“Hmmm yeah that’s really nice” he starts but then he looks up and his head cocks to the side as if his brain just processed the words you said. “Wait what?” He asks.

You chuckle and little bit happy to have his attention.

“I just wanted to see if you were listening, I asked what’s been up with you lately” you say softly, taking a seat next to him, reaching over to grab the remote and pause the race he was observing so his full attention was on you.

“Nothing wrong, I’m fine” he lies.

“Hermoso, we’ve been married for 6 years, I know when somethings up” you smile taking his hand into yours and kissing the back of it softly while watching for his reaction.

“I just … nevermind it’s stupid” he sighs looking down.

“None of your feelings are stupid baby, please let me in” you say calmly.

“I just feel like, I’m so singled out on the grid. You’ve got so many amazing drivers and then there’s me. Lewis is a 7x world champion, and and Max my own team mate has won 2, and he’s probably going to win this year by a landslide and then there’s Fernando again he has two championships, and then you’ve got all this new talent in Lando, and Charles and Carlos and now that Oscar is here, it’s getting tough” he admits and you softly smile at him.

“Where have all these doubts come from honey?” You ask, you knew he didn’t think he was the best driver, but he never once compared his abilities to individual drivers.

“Christian said that if I didn’t improve he’d replace me with Yuki, Liam or Daniel and that i might not even get a AlphaTauri seat as a replacement” he says putting his face in his hands with a soft sigh.

You pull him into a hug in which he nuzzles his head into your neck.

You are an incredible driver, there’s just such an insane amount of talent on the grid right now, you being one of them. World champion or not baby, your still one of only 20 drivers in the world that are here! Your a race winner and I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. You are incredible” you smile wrapping your arms around him while you feel him shake a little, presumably where he’s crying.

“Im just awful at it all. Driving, being a husband … you’ve been asking for a baby for 3 years and I keep telling you no because I’m so career focused but I can’t even seem to be good at that career” he complains and you almost laugh.

“Oh honey, I think you forget you are without a doubt the best thing that’s ever happened to me, child or no child. And where you aren’t ready because your at a point in your career that is crucial, I’ll always understand that darling. You are all I need, you are all I want. And I married you because I’m happy with you” you say tightening your hold on him.

“You know, I would never not be ready to have a kid. If you want one, we can have one. I’d never say no” he argues wiping his eyes and looking at you, only for you to release a breath of relief.

“Thank god, that night in Saudi Arabia really stuck” you admit and he cocks his head to the side not understanding. You take his hand and place it on your stomach, there wasn’t much of a bump, but a slight and minuscule weight gain was there. Enough that when he run his hand over your tummy he could feel it.

“Are you saying?” He asks and you nod.

“I know, I know it’s not the right time because your so stressed and I’ve been so nervous to tell you because I know you’ve had a lot on your plate since being in Red Bull and it was such a shock to me” you start to ramble thinking you should have waited.

“No this is the best news ever! This has made my day, my week, my year even!” He smiles before lifting you up and twirling you round.

“I love you” he says pulling you in for a kiss, happy with life.

And now he didn’t have anything to worry about, as long as he was able to provide for you and your child or children in the future he knew he could handle the pressure because now there was something else riding on it!

A/N: hey guys I didn’t realise tumblr only lets you do 50 tags per post! So I’m not sure what to do about taglist anymore? Any suggestions?

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #sergio perez x you #sergio perez imagine #sergio perez x reader #sergio checo pérez #sergio perez #checo perez #sp11 x reader #sp11 #sp11 x you #sp11 fic

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pandorasword · 9 months ago

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Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

PTD On Stage in LA | Day 3

❒ genre: Slice of life

❒ words: 972

❒ summary: In which Chaeri uses Tae's beauty to her benefit

❒ prompts requested from the dialogue prompts game: “Wow, I really can’t speak, huh? Must be because of how pretty you look”

She was never good with words. She preferred facts: solid, reliable, hard to misunderstand. Words, on the other hand, always seemed elusive, ungraspable, especially when she had to use them in English. The situation worsened drastically when she found herself in front of thousands of people, right after singing for two hours non-stop. What was so difficult about a simple 'thank you'? For her, it was a real mystery. In fact, she didn’t believe a speech was necessary to express the emotion she felt every time. Hearing her songs sung by so many voices, with different accents, but with the same passion she put into them… she was sure it was evident during her performances how much she appreciated and was grateful for everything.

But it should be considered that those who cause their own misfortune should weep for themselves. She knew that day would come. She had all those years of experience and a highly competent team to ignore the inevitability of that moment. She could have taken the time to prepare a few sentences in English, memorize the pronunciation, and say them on stage. Instead, look at that, she had done nothing and couldn’t even remember why

In just a few seconds, all the times she had literally fled the room when she saw the English coach enter came back to her. It was almost like a scene from a cartoon: he came in one door and she scurried out the other, as if her only purpose in life was to avoid that conversation.

She had to refrain from slapping her forehead for being so stupid and irresponsible. She was still on stage, under the gaze of thousands of people.

Tae had just finished his speech. His English was insecure, his pronunciation questionable, but at least he had said something.

That evening, he stood out among the other seven, entirely dressed in red with a mask on his face, he had fun dancing and singing in a costume inspired by the Squid Game series, which had conquered the world in record time. And the crowd was ecstatic. A true show genius, born to capture attention: that's who Kim Taehyung was.

A shiver ran down her sweaty back, a testament to the hours spent jumping and running, reproducing the choreographies she knew by heart for that performance.

It was her turn to speak.

With an uncertain gesture, she brought the microphone to her lips. Embarrassed, with no idea what to say or how to formulate a coherent speech, she searched the most remote areas of her brain for a foothold, a memory, or anything that could help her find the right words.

Then, suddenly, the screams of the crowd became so loud that they overwhelmed even her chaotic thoughts. Behind her, on the huge screen, appeared Taehyung who had removed his mask.

And, damn, he was breathtakingly beautiful.

At that moment, a fleeting memory from a few days before came back to her: she remembered Namjoon, visibly irritated, trying to watch an episode of Friends. The younger members of the group were making noise around him, forcing him to restart the same part of the episode several times because he couldn't hear the lines.

Yes, that line she had heard repeated at least five times was perfect, and luckily, it had stuck in her mind.

She turned towards Taehyung, just a few meters away from her. The blue lenses of his eyes shone under the reflection of the multicolored stage lights, accentuated by the glows of the armybombs not far from them.

“Wow, I really can’t speak, huh? Must be because of how pretty you look”

The crowd roared in approval, shouted for the interaction, clapped for the way the boy's cheeks turned red, almost as red as his costume, because of the unexpected compliment.

The rest of the members burst into laughter, teasing Taehyung, while she realized that the attention from her speech had successfully been diverted elsewhere.

What a perfect end, she would have shaken her own hand in congratulations.

Later, in the backstage

“Chaeri-yaaaaa, you made me blush like crazy out there. Did everyone notice?” said Tae, walking beside Chaeri, an arm around her shoulders and almost all his weight leaning on her, partly from the exhaustion of the evening, partly because he loved to tease her.

"Every single person here saw how red you got" Jimin replied with an amused smile before the girl could, taking the perfect opportunity to tease his group mate when he was usually the butt of the jokes.

"Aish" Tae sighed theatrically, faking a look of devastation "my reputation as a tough guy is ruined because of you, Chaeri-ya."

Chaeri raised an eyebrow. “When have you ever had a tough guy reputation?” she said with a playful tone

"Hey, you" a sarcastic, accusatory tone came from Namjoon as he approached the trio, who were dragging their feet, destroyed by now, along the floor, hoping to reach a place where they could sleep for hours. Many hours.

"Don't think I didn't realize you did it to avoid the speech you were supposed to prepare for tonight" Namjoon looked at her with a look that said it all, the look of someone who raised you and knows all your little tricks.

"Oops?" she looked at him, softening her eyes and curling her lips a bit to look more innocent - which she wasn't - and more forgivable - her behavior was absolutely unforgivable -.

"So you didn't think for real that I was so handsome to leave you speechless?" Tae had pulled away from her half hug to look her in the eyes, his tone high-pitched.

"If it makes you feel better, I really think you're the prettiest of us all"

"Ha! Did you hear that, Hyung? I really am the prettiest"

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

#bts 8th member #bts female member #taehyung imagines #bts imagines #taehyung scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts au #bts female addition #bts v #bts 8th member au #bts scenarios #kpop female member #kpop female oc #bts x reader #bts idol au #bts au fanfic

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lizziiszs · 4 days ago

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tw; nsfw, sh

so i was thinking about how fucking weird but cool hiori's fractured girl fetish then i just started thinking right, bear with me,,

i think being overstimulation would be a massive turn on for hiori because it would be one of the very few things that feels validating to him. as a child, pushing himself physically would have earnt him praise and recognition from his team mates, coaches and most importantly, his parents. even upon realising that his parents are using him as a means to an end, hiori still feels somewhat validated. overexerting himself to near injury, the thought of working so hard for the benefit of those who are using him makes him feel sick, he hates it. yet he gets off to it because it's the only thing he's ever known, its a familiar feeling that felt good for a while. and he's afraid that it forever will.

this MIGHT be a stretch but i've written about hiori having a sexual liking for self-harm on his s/o. i think as someone who's always had to maintain his physical condition, he's never been able to take his frustration and grief out on himself in such a way. he thinks it'd be relieving and freeing but can't ever go so far. everything he has is on the shoulders of his body and it's capabilities, including every chance of leaving home so he cannot even THINK of committing such a thing.

don't get me wrong though he hates the fact that his s/o who means the entire fucking world to him has ever endured such suffering and it breaks his heart yet it doesn't stop him from feeling somewhat attracted to the idea. the idea of them feeling a similar way, how it's comforting to know someone else has also been treated so unfairly by circumstance. and he can't help but to feel so and in a sexual light and the feeling of guilt he has as a result of it gets him off even more.

the same goes for his fractured girl fetish, the guilt he experiences has him so fucking horny because it feels so good in the sense that its so immoral and straight up fucking weird. the thought of having a girl reliant on him drives him insane. he wants to, for once, be the person who isn't dependent on someone else in order to get by (his parents' validation, other team mates to pass to etc.).

although the sadist part comes from the realisation that his parents are actually dependent on HIM. their entire relationship and careers have collided for HIM to exist,, what happens as a result of that is the work of hiori and his somewhat extraordinary capabilities. sometimes, he feels really fucking good about himself. like even saying the words 'i wanna quit' or 'i don't wanna go pro' would fling his parents into such a rage or total breakdown- he has yet to try it though.

he also will not accommodate to those who cannot keep up with him on the pitch, humiliating those who cannot even play alongside him. and obviously its a huge turn on because it feels good and hold onnnn everything that feels good to him crosses over with sexuality.

(this is a massive personal confession but) as someone who has no idea what his feelings are, doesn't care and doesn't know how to distinguish them,, everything that feels remotely good crosses over into sexual pleasure. its a stupid and really fucking weird thing but i feel as, since he was very emotionally deprived as a child, its a possible idea.

i'm gonna back this up by saying that he is chronically online and a bitch gamer boy. he totally would.

don't tell me you read all that.

i now aspire to look like erika toda in spec: birth

hiori i want you

(he lets me project)

#lizzietalksfornogoodreason #im losing my mind #hiori yo hcs #i love hiori yo #hiori yo #bllk #blue lock

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trashpandato · 2 years ago

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Breakaway

“Lena, this could really be good for the company. Think of the good publicity for L-Corp, sponsoring the biggest women’s cycling race in the world.”

“Sam,” Lena huffs and presses her fingers against the bridge of her nose, “L-Corp isn’t in the business of sponsoring sports events.”

“Yet.”

“We’ve never done anything even remotely similar. Don’t you think it would look a little…desperate? Not to mention suspicious given the timing?”

Sam shifts a little in her seat. “Lena, —”

“Lex’s trial concluded less than six months ago. Any effort to get good press at this point is going to be suspicious. Especially something as blatantly outside of the scope of L-Corp’s usual activities as showing up at some bicycle event. This could actually do more harm than good.”

“You said yourself that you’re trying to move the company in a different direction. You could easily position this as giving back to the community, supporting causes that are, by design, the opposite of what LuthorCorp stood for.”

And Lena can’t really argue with that. She does want to do things differently, from re-naming the company to ending contracts with military suppliers to focussing primarily on research and development projects that would benefit previously underserved communities. But this is a step, or ten, outside of her comfort zone. She doesn’t want to be in the public eye more than she has to be, and she most definitely doesn’t want to be seen as taking advantage of a women’s sports event to bolster her company’s reputation.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to decide right now. Just, think about it. You’re sponsoring girls in STEM events all the time, and this could be along the same lines of supporting women in areas that are traditionally dominated by men.”

Lena sighs. As always, Sam makes a good point, and as always, she is exceptionally pushy about it.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

Later that evening, after Lena has sent off the last few emails dealing with a contract issue with a new subsidiary company in Japan, she clicks out of her email application and pulls up her search engine. If she is supposed to think about sponsoring a cycling event, she wants to know exactly what she would be getting herself into.

Three scotches and a considerable amount of time later, Lena has learned that women’s cycling is woefully underfunded, under promoted and clearly suffers from blatant misogyny of those in charge. She listens to multiple interviews of riders complaining that their races are intentionally shorter than the men’s races because the sport’s regulating body apparently thinks women can’t handle the extra distance. Other than that, the sport seems entertaining enough, and from what Lena can tell, most races are currently dominated by select riders from two or three teams, a fact that speaks to uneven support for equipment and development of new talent across the sport.

While an interview with a sweaty and strikingly good looking blonde cyclist is playing in the background, Lena rubs her eyes and fires off a quick text to Sam.

LL: I’ve thought about it. Go ahead and set up the sponsorship for that race.

—

On race day, Lena regrets every decision she has ever made that has led her to this point. She gets up extra early that day to deal with a number of important issues at L-Corp, but the morning quickly gets away from her. At noon, she is already so behind schedule that she is tempted to text Sam to cancel her appearance at the race. It’s only the knowledge that her friend would never let her hear the end of it that keeps Lena from hiding in her office for the rest of the day. She leaves L-Corp with barely a minute to spare, knowing full well that she is going to have to work late that evening to make up for the time she is going to spend showing her face at the race.

By the time Lena gets there, the medal presentation is just about to start. A race volunteer quickly leads her to the side of the stage, just out of view of the crowds, where Lena spots Sam.

“There you are,” Sam says, handing her a bottle of water to combat the truly ludicrous heat that has built up under the temporary structure surrounding the stage and podium. “I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t show.”

“I told you I’d be here for this.”

“Yes, but you missed out on seeing the race action.”

“I'm a busy CEO of a multi-billion dollar international company. I don't have time to watch women in lycra pedal around the city for hours."

“Oh, but you did notice the lycra?”

“Sam,” Lena hisses as her attention drifts toward the woman stepping on the podium to accept the congratulations for the win. She grimaces when she sees Maxwell Lord and Morgan Edge hover near the cyclist, Edge shuffling closer and closer to the woman, sporting his usual sleazy smirk. He must say something offensive—not a big surprise, Lena thinks—because the woman accepting her medal suddenly stiffens and grimaces, clearly trying to remain polite and smile for the cameras while her body language conveys that she’d rather be anywhere else but here.

Lena takes a few swift steps toward them.

“Edge. I see you’ve learned nothing from your recent sexual harassment lawsuit. Do you want me to call your probation officer now or later?”

“Lena,” Edge sneers but he steps away from the woman nonetheless. “What a surprise. I didn’t think this event would want to associate themselves with family members of domestic terrorists. Then again, cycling doesn’t exactly have the best reputation for being a clean sport, so I suppose it fits.”

Lena crosses her arms across her chest and raises a challenging eyebrow. “You realize there are mics everywhere, yes? And that you just insulted the sport you’re supposedly here to champion, and everyone could hear it?”

She watches as a couple of official looking men in suits approach and whisper something into Morgan Edge’s ear. With a huff, he turns and retreats behind the stage to the soundtrack of shocked murmurs from the audience gathered in front of the podium.

Lena almost forgets why she is here when she hears an amused voice next to her ear.

“Thanks for that. Not entirely necessary, but I appreciate it.”

Lena’s head snaps toward the voice and all of a sudden she is looking into the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. The woman, Kara Danvers according to the information the race officials had handed her when she arrived for the medal presentation, looks flushed and a little disheveled, but is smiling brightly at Lena.

“Not necessary? He was practically grabbing your butt.”

Kara shrugs. “Not the first time that’s happened during a podium presentation, and won’t be the last. It’s part of the job, unfortunately.”

“It’s part of your job to be groped by men like Edge?”

Another shrug. “At least I usually also get kisses from the podium girls, so it evens out?”

Lena frowns. “What?”

But before she can get more information, one of the race officials hands her a bouquet of flowers and motions for her to hand it to today’s race winner, congratulate her and move on. Lena obliges. She steps in front of the podium, shakes Kara’s hand and ignores the way her stomach swoops when Kara thanks her and winks, fucking winks. Who does that?

Lena briskly walks off the stage on the other side, where Sam is already waiting for her.

“You can never do things at a normal level of intensity, can you?”

“I told you I’ve never done anything like this before, so maybe don’t blame me for not knowing the proper etiquette here,” Lena snaps. “You could have warned me that Edge and his greasy buddy Lord would be here.”

“Relax,” Sam chuckles. “You did great. I thought we’d maybe get some decent headlines about L-Corp sponsoring the race, but now the media is going to have a field day with you taking on Morgan Edge in public and defending the reputation of women’s cycling.”

“I did no such thing. He spewed his vile nonsense all by himself.”

“He did, and you took him down a notch in front of one the sport’s biggest names. Who seemed pretty taken with you, by the way.”

“Right,” Lena scoffs. The heat behind the stage is unbearable and she can feel sweat trickling down her lower back, her shirt sticking to her skin uncomfortably under her suit jacket. “Are we done here? I need to get back to work.”

Sam looks like she’s about to say something, maybe to try and convince Lena to stay, but Lena is already five steps ahead of her, finding the most direct path to where her driver is waiting for her with her car. And maybe she’s walking faster than strictly necessary, desperate to get away from the cacophony of noises, people and media equipment surrounding the area, and maybe she should have paid closer attention to her surroundings because when she’s not even halfway to her car, she suddenly collides with a solid body. The force of it bumps her sideways and Lena half expects to fall, but then two warm hands hold her upright.

“Golly, I’m so sorry,” Lena hears and when she looks up, it’s the woman from the podium again.

Kara Danvers.

She’s still holding Lena up, and they’re standing close, so close that Lena can see faint salt lines on her skin from where her sweat had dried off after the efforts of the race.

Lena blinks, too stunned to say anything for a moment.

“Are you okay? I totally didn’t see you and I barrelled right into you. I’m really sorry.”

Lena clears her throat. “It’s fine. I should be the one apologizing. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“You definitely looked like you’re in a hurry to get away,” Kara says, her voice teasing and light.

“I mean, I do have to get back to the office.”

“Of course. Time is money, and all that. Well, thank you for taking time out of your busy day for this, Ms Luthor.”

Lena is used to people commenting on her wealth and her business, and not always in friendly terms. She wears her professional demeanor and her last name like a shield; one that attracts a lot of unwanted attention, but a shield nonetheless. She doesn’t quite know why, but something about the woman in front of her makes her want things to be different.

“Please, just call me Lena.”

Lena can see the flash of surprise on the other woman’s face, but it is quickly replaced by another easy smile.

“Okay, Lena. I’m Kara.”

Lena nods. “Well, Kara, I should get going. Congratulations again on your win. Maybe I’ll see you around at some other races.”

“If you’re going to do the podium honors again, that’ll be more motivation for me to ride extra fast.”

Kara says this last bit with a laugh in her voice that makes Lena blush a little.

“Alright. You do that, but I really have to get back to work now. Bye, Kara.”

—

When Sam enters Lena’s office for a budget meeting a few days later, she finds Lena focused intensely on something on her laptop.

“Did you know that these so-called podium girls are almost all university graduates?”

Sam chuckles. “Are you looking for a side-gig?”

“What? No! I just mean, look at this woman, for example.” Lena turns her laptop toward Sam, the screen highlighting one of the blonde women usually tasked with handing over some stuffed animal to the race winner and giving them a kiss on the cheek. “This is Eve Tessmacher. She has two advanced degrees in biomedical science. She could easily work at L-Corp. Hell, she could probably even lead an entire department here, given her qualifications.”

“And?”

“And?! She spends her time following around the race circuit, smiling for the cameras in a dress that’s entirely too short to comfortably walk up the rickety stairs of those podium stages.”

Sam sits down opposite Lena at her desk and sighs.

“I see you put on your judgy pants this morning. What if they made a conscious decision to work at a women’s sports event? What if representing the race organization is important to them? And who knows, maybe traveling around the country and being a part of this is fun?”

“Fun?” Lena pulls up a few videos and turns the laptop back to Sam. “Does this look like fun to you?”

Together they watch a compilation of footage from various podium presentations. The common theme is the presence of handsy middle-aged men who seem to have made it their mission to make any woman involved with the race event uncomfortable, and the “podium girls” seem to be taking the brunt of it.

Sam winces as she watches one of the women trying to maneuver her body out of the grasp of a particularly persistent man.

“Okay, fine. That looks…unpleasant. But I assume their presence is part of tradition.”

“Mmh. Maybe it’s time to end this particular tradition.”

That gets Sam’s attention.

“And how exactly do you plan to do that? I thought you wanted nothing to do with sports?”

“You did tell me to sponsor this race. And right now, L-Corp is only one of many corporate partners, but we could easily become the headline sponsor for this race series, and then we could encourage some changes. Not to the racing itself, of course. But those ceremonial parts could do with less of the misogynistic bullshit.”

“Does this sudden interest in who gets to kiss the race winner have anything to do with a certain blonde cyclist?”

“What? No. You…why would you even say that?”

“Because I have eyes and I saw how she looked at you when you played the hero and saved her from Morgan Edge.”

“You’re delusional. I don’t, it’s not about that. It’s about making sure these women get highlighted for their actual talents, not just to be eye candy for men with a bottomless Viagra prescription.”

Sam rolls her eyes. “I see what you’re doing. But if you want to explore what it would take for L-Corp to become the main sponsor, leave it with me.”

It takes a few weeks of meetings and contract negotiations, but in the end, Lena gets exactly what she wants. The L-Corp logo is prominently displayed on banners, posters and race leader jerseys. The media has run a few mostly positive stories about Lena’s newfound interest in women’s cycling, complete with a few soundbites from prominent cyclists who seem pleased with seeing some extra funding and attention for their sport.

During a break in the race calendar, Lena asks her assistant to set up a few meetings with the women working for the race organization. With Sam’s words about being too judgy still echoing in her mind, she wants to get a feel for how much of their job is simply about carrying over traditions from the men’s races and how much wiggle room there is for making changes.

In the first three meetings, the women Lena speaks with are polite and careful. Lena doesn’t get much of an answer to her questions, but she does get the distinct impression that the women would welcome a different approach to some of their duties but are too afraid to rock the boat. It’s only when she meets with Eve Tessmacher that she gets a pretty blunt assessment of the current state of affairs.

“So, Miss Tessmacher, what would you say you enjoy most about your role?”

“Oh, you know, we do get to travel around a lot and it’s nice to see different parts of the country. The quirky small towns are the best, usually, even if the accommodations can be challenging there.”

Lena nods. “And if you could change anything about your tasks with the race, what would that be?”

Eve cocks her head to the side a little and hesitates. Lena can sense that all she needs is one more firm nudge.

“I want you to be honest with me, Miss Tessmacher. If there is anything I can do to change your work environment for the better, I will do that. This is important to me. And I promise I won’t tell anyone what you share here.”

Eve blinks a few times but then nods.

“Truthfully, we would all like to see more respect. I mean, you saw what happened when Morgan Edge was at the medal presentation last month. That’s a constant occurrence. I understand that we need to invite local dignitaries when we pretty much hijack their town for a few days. It’s photo op stuff for them, we all get that. But that could be done in a much more respectful way.”

Lena nods and motions for Eve to continue.

“The outfits are a little much. I always feel like a flight attendant from the 1960s. It would be nice to have some leeway there.”

Lena nods again and jots down a few thoughts on a notepad.

“What’s your long-term goal?” she asks. “Career-wise, where do you want to be in five years?”

At that, Eve lets out a small giggle.

“Is this a job interview?”

Lena looks up from her notepad and raises an eyebrow. “Well, I do know that you have the education to work in R&D here at L-Corp, so if you want this to be an interview, I can make that happen.”

There’s a shocked expression on Eve’s face that is enough to make Lena backtrack slightly.

“Or we can set up an interview for you another time. To give you more time to prepare.”

“Really?” Eve asks, her voice pitched higher than before.

“Absolutely. When you leave here, talk to my assistant, Jess, to set something up.”

“Thank you so much, Miss Luthor. I have to admit, this is not what I was expecting when you called me in for a meeting today.”

“I’m trying to change things for the better, Miss Tessmacher. Both here at L-Corp and at the races, though my influence is a bit more limited there. But I do see that the women representing the race organization are generally overqualified for the task and I’d be more than happy to facilitate a move to other opportunities for those who want that.”

Eve nods but lets Lena continue: “I also want to change things for those who want to stay with the race. Make it more comfortable. No more handsy old men. Better pay. A safer work environment. I really appreciate your candor. You’ve given me exactly what I need to get started.”

From there, Lena gets to work. Her legal department helps draft language that makes it clear to anyone who is part of the podium celebrations that any inappropriate behaviour will result in immediate legal action. She re-assigns two of the podium girls to observe and enforce the new rules if necessary. Several others, including Eve Tessmacher, line up interviews for part-time positions at L-Corp that still allow them to participate in race events if they so choose, and she removes most of the existing stipulations around work attire. Finally, Lena highlights that in order to set clear boundaries, no one should be touching or kissing the winning racers beyond a congratulatory handshake.

It takes a few weeks for all the changes to be implemented, but the impact is immediate. The race series makes waves not just in the sports media, but bigger outlets start featuring the changes and run headlines like “L-Corp race series moves away from outdated traditions” and “Is women’s cycling finally stepping out of the shadows of men’s racing?”

Lena thinks the coverage is a little overblown but it’s still nice to see articles about L-Corp that don’t even reference her brother at all.

Over dinner one evening with Sam, she takes a sip of her wine and sighs.

“You know I don’t admit this very often, but you were right.”

“About?” Sam probes with a smirk on her face.

“You know what I’m talking about. The race sponsorship. The media coverage for L-Corp has been great, stocks are up, the board is pleased with it all. Thank you for pushing me to do it.”

“You’re welcome. But also, I really only said you should do a small sponsorship. You turned that into practically taking over the race series in order to impress Kara Danvers.”

“I did no such thing,” Lena huffs.

Sam simply smiles and clinks her glass against Lena’s. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night. But you really should ask her out at some point.”

Thankfully, their waiter interrupts the conversation then, and Sam sticks to talking about Ruby and their weekend plans for the rest of their dinner.

—-

It’s a few weeks later when Lena finds herself back on stage next to Kara Danvers, handing her another bouquet of flowers and a medal for sprinting to an impressive win at a race around National City’s harbourfront. It’s a bit of deja vu, but Lena is happy to see that the overall atmosphere on stage is that of respect and professionalism for all involved.

When she hovers near the edge of the stage after the ceremony is over, Kara walks over to her with determined steps.

“I hear that it’s you we have to thank for the much more relaxed vibes at the medal presentations now?”

“All I did was establish compliance with current labour laws. I don’t want L-Corp to get pulled into a lawsuit over one of these groping incidents.”

Kara nods. “Ah. Well, even if you only did it to protect your company, I appreciate it. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“I do miss getting a kiss on the cheek for winning, though.”

And maybe it’s the glass of champagne Lena had while she was waiting for the medal presentation to start, or maybe it’s the heat or a combination of both, but suddenly she has no control over the words that tumble out of her mouth.

“I can provide the kiss if you’re amenable to that.”

The laugh that bubbles out of Kara’s chest is loud and bright when she says: "You know, if you wanted to be the one to kiss me exclusively, you could have just asked me out on a date. No need to go to all that extra trouble of making changes to the races."

Lena blushes. “Okay. This is me asking.”

There’s a moment where Kara only blinks, and it’s obvious to Lena that for all her teasing and bravado, she clearly didn’t expect Lena to play along. She’s about to backpedal when Kara stands up a little taller, smiles and holds out her hand.

“Then let’s go. Let me show you how many carbs I need to eat to fuel top performances. And if you’re into it, I might even show you my tan lines later.” And then she winks. Again.

All Lena can do is laugh and loop her arm through Kara’s. “Alright. Show me.”

#Happy Tour De France Femmes to all who are celebrating #Supercorp #cycling AU #kara x lena #sam arias

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peachmangofuzz · 1 year ago

Text

7 minutes in heaven - shohei ohtani au

summary: Y/N snoops around famous football player Shohei Ohtani’s locker in search for a scandal against his clean record but ends up in one herself.

tropes: friends with benefits, friends to lovers(?)

tw: *slight* smut, mentions of sex, oral (f receiving)

word count: 30,033K words (i'm SO sorry in advance holy shit)

hi! it's been a while. when i made this account, i vowed to write at least once a week but it had been so difficult this month juggling work, my chronic migraines, and seasonal depression (lol).

please note i did not proofread this so plsssss i apologize for grammar mistakes and inconsistencies!!

posting this on the last day of 2023, hoping to give everyone a good read before we welcome the new year. so thankful for this small space to try, linger and reset all over again. hope you had a very merry holidays with your loved ones.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

==================================

Locker Lockdown

At around thirty minutes past four in the afternoon, I skimmed the clubhouse for any signs of life. It was only the quiet that prevailed. Clear.

I tiptoed my way towards the player locker room. I only had around ten minutes to locate the correct locker and take whatever I could find. Discovering the locker area to be empty and unguarded, I felt a surge of excitement.

Six years later, I couldn’t get my big break and decided sports journalism could catapult me into somewhere big in the industry. This is my last chance to prove myself, otherwise I’d have to reconsider going back home and write Hallmark greeting card messages again.

Shohei Ohtani’s jersey number is the number 17. Lucky bastard, after all these years and even after going through free agency, he got to keep his famous number, even at the cost of having their senior player give it up for him when he joined the football team.

And here you might be wondering why I’m doing this aside from my sheer desperation to get an official spot in the workplace and not eat scraps of topics editors discarded for themselves.

Some people are privileged to a fault.

And I hate seeing him on TV. Or on social media. Or his Colgate-white smile plastered all over my favorite beer and skincare brands.

Some would say this is the TMZ tabloid level of writing. I say this is investigative journalism. Find out if the famous favorite son-in-law has any flaws of his own and wrap around a bowtie of hidden horrors of sports documentaries.

And where else can we find this but in the athlete hotpot: their locker room.

I found Shohei’s locker right away as it was the tidiest locker among all on display, with nothing but brand-sponsored clothing hung neatly on the rack. He also donned the top shelf with some dog-eared self-help titles and vitamin bottles. While the rest of the athletes have pictures of their girlfriends, wives and their kids, Shohei has an unreleased polaroid selfie with his dog, Dekopin, just right beside his perfume bottles. Dekopin was looking away, captured in mid-yawn, with his ears raised, and Shohei, smiling into the camera with pursed lips and a snapback on.

I got so immersed into reading the ingredients of his vitamin bottles, trying to find anything remotely related to steroids, or any form of illegal bodily enhancements, that I didn’t notice footsteps from outside the hall.

“What are you doing here?” a voice loomed behind me and I dropped the diet supplement bottle in panic.

Only the sound of the bottle rattling could be heard as I locked eyes with Shohei Ohtani, tall and all muscular. His hair was sweaty and unkempt and his eyes held mild anger and confusion. After the bottle stopped rolling and settled somewhere on the floor between us, there was only silence and the cold sweat building up at my back.

I swallowed hard. I planned everything from studying the stadium’s entrance and exit doors but I didn’t plan on bumping into him. Not like this. Not when I’m at the lowest level of the social hierarchy right now.

I could only be ashamed.

Brain still befuddled at the thought of getting caught, I urged my limbs and picked up the vitamin bottle and returned it back to Shohei’s locker. The plan was not to respond at all and run as fast as I could before the rest of his team arrived. That was the only way to keep whatever dignity I have left.

“I said, what are you doing here?” He caught my arm mid-exit and pulled me back, tightening his grip.

“Let go of me.” I struggled to keep my balance and the way my voice wavered was no help at all.

Shohei saw the camera slung over my shoulder and looked back at me, realization hitting him.

“Y/N, are you a sports journalist now? And were you looking through my stuff?” he said, sounding almost disappointed.

“That’s none of your business. Let go of me.” I kept my voice steady but his grip only tightened. The sides of my eyes slowly formed tears.

“What tabloid media do you work for? I should report you. Would you like that? What a shame you’ll be banned from all the games now, right? You nasty journalists just won’t keep your noses away from my business.” he took my camera and deleted all the photos I took of the contents of his locker. I tried to leap for it but he was obviously inches taller than I was and I was no match for that.

“I don’t write tabloid news. If I was, my name would have been all over TV by now.” I grabbed the camera from him and sighed morosely at the lost media. A day’s work is all lost.

“My boss gave me a green light to do a documentary about the team. And the star player.” I wiggled my fingers in front of him, as if to emphasize the word “star” in front of him.

“I came here assuming you and the other players would be here for an interview but no one was around yet. So I hung around a bit and took interest in your nutritional supplements.” Lie after lie after lie. I gritted my teeth and faked a smile. The most convincing lie I’ve learned on almost all my failed dates and relationships was to stroke a man’s ego and have him talk about all the things he is interested in, making him divert his attention to something else.

“You’ve got really good, um, vitamins for muscle recovery there. Maybe that’s why you got so big and strong, right?.” He looked at me dubiously, nodding responsively to be polite. If he took the bait, then he is obviously just like any other guy I’ve ever met.

“I mean, I guess? I’ve been doing deadlifts so–”

Approaching footsteps and faint voices were heard from the hall. Shohei pushed me toward the opposite end of the hall, where the showers were located.

“Wha–” I started but was shut up when he pushed me further into the back of the shower room, swiping the doors closed.

“Shut up if you don’t want to be caught.” He growled and I recoiled back into the tiled corner. On top of me was the almost rusting shower head who had seen better days, and two bottle pumps for shampoo and body wash.

Voices and conversations were starting to fill in the locker room that was empty only a few seconds ago. The voices of men echoed through the shower rooms. You could hear the sound of water turning on from neighboring shower stalls, laughter and tired conversation in the locker area. We were surrounded.

Shohei could be heard laughing with his mates while blocking the door to the shower room I was hiding in.

“Are you using that, Sho? I could use a hot shower right now.” one of his teammates said.

“Uh, no, I was just about to use this room, sorry.” he said, almost hesitating. After a few seconds, he entered the shower room and started undressing.

I widened my eyes and shot him daggers. When he unhooked his shirt from his armholes, I was rendered speechless.

He had the body sculpted by the gods with his wide shoulders and large pecs that glinted under the light. How could someone look handsome and beautiful at the same time?

So when Shohei reached for the waist belt of his pants down, I didn’t know why I had choked on a silent scream. I looked away, embarrassed to have reacted like an inexperienced teenager. I have seen and have been with naked men before. This should be nothing new to me and my level. Or so I thought.

I stole a glance at Shohei, who was slowly walking towards me (or to the showerhead, where I stood under, obviously) in only his boxers on, gazing at me in wild amusement.

We were almost inches apart from each other, foreheads almost touching, breaths almost converging, if you may. If I stand on my tiptoes, I would be almost at his eye-level and I could peck him on the lips if I wanted to.

If I wanted to.

“Sorry, but I need to shower or someone else will try to take this stall.” His voice broke my salacious thoughts. He looked at me and turned the shower on.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m supposed to. Aren’t I? I just got off practice and I stink.” He said almost sarcastically.

“So I’m supposed to just watch you bathe and hope I get out here alive?” Water slowly dripped into my shirt, soaking my chest and exposing a bit of my underwear.

“If you didn’t sneak in here, we wouldn’t have this problem.” He concluded and pursed his lips, not looking at me.

“Shohei? You okay? You sound like you’re talking to someone.” a familiar voice floated into the shower room.

“It was a video on my phone that I forgot to pause, Ippei-san.” Shohei’s face turned red but recovered quickly, glaring at me.

“Oh, well then, I thought you finally had a girl in there. I was wrong.” Ippei laughed.

Shohei started lathering body wash on his body at the slowest pace possible. His hands glided through his chest, stomach, and into the dick he’s restraining inside his boxers. Simply having this view had me almost whimpering. If it had been another day, I would have obviously enjoyed this, having a sexy man bathe in front of me, because who wouldn’t? But under my circumstances, I’m only fairly annoyed at being a flustered, hot mess and I couldn’t do anything about it.

“Oh, fuck, now you got me wet.” I blurted a little loudly as the water splashed and got into my socks.

Shohei’s widened and panicked eyes shot at me.

In between those short seconds, Shohei was able to respond quicker than my brain could. He had faked a laugh and said loudly, “Well, that’s awkward, the video keeps on playing on its own. Let me turn my phone off instead.” gaining laughter from outside the shower area and then reaching for the small of my neck and closed whatever space was seen between us.

Based on what I had learned in self-defense training, my initial bodily reaction should have been this: If someone is coming at you from the front, a groin kick may deliver enough force to paralyze your attacker, making your escape possible. 1. Stabilize yourself as best you can. 2. Lift your dominant leg off the ground and begin to drive your knee upward. 3. Extend your dominant leg, drive hips forward, slightly lean back, and kick forcefully, making contact between your lower shin or ball of your foot and the attacker’s groin area.

Instead, when his lips touched mine, I felt my arms throw around his neck and pulled him closer. They say we’re all beggars for something, and this indulgence I had let myself be greedy for.

When his lips reached mine, I parted like the Red Sea almost immediately, welcoming him and everything that he could offer: the taste of his tongue on my mouth, the smell of honey orange and apricot from his body wash seeping through my nose as I peppered kisses on his chest, and his obviously hard dick grinding against my stomach. When I palmed him, he managed a low growl and caught my wrists.

“Not here.” he groaned.

I pushed my head back inquiringly, both of us breathing too hard.

“I have no condom,” he tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear. Under the dim bathroom light, I could see his face and chest were flushed. “Next time?”

“Well, usually when two old friends meet after a fall out in college, they just catch up and have coffee.” I said.

He laughed and said quietly, “Okay, so I owe you.”

“The coffee or the protected sex?”

“Uh, it could go a lot of ways.” Before he could say more, I palmed him through his boxer shorts and looked up at him, trying to find his limit.

Shohei bit his own lip and tugged the roots of my hair in a bundle, pulling and tugging from the pleasure. To keep himself from making such ungodly hot sounds, he pushed his tongue down my throat and thrusted his hips back and forth against my hand.

As if to make it even, he unclasped my bra and sucked on my already soaked breasts, a satisfied groan slipped from me. We both pulled and pushed and sucked and kissed each other in the crevices the shower splatters couldn’t reach, silencing the moans before it could escape us.

In that brief and elating moment, while we muted the noise from unsuspecting people, we smothered each other’s groans and reached our highs in the quietest, most pleasurable way possible.

=========================================

7 minutes of heaven

It’s strange how I always find myself in the most ridiculous situations.

The next few occasions that I’d meet Shohei would be wordless and timed interactions in enclosed spaces. We’d see each other in public and pretend we didn’t know each other but slip each other notes of the next place we’d secretly meet. It all felt strangely exhilarating to keep a secret like a fifteen year old would, with all the sneaking and running.

We’ve explored almost every nook and cranny of the stadium, discovering hidden spots of our rendezvous. We’d meet up in a different bathroom and he’d push me on my back while he fucks me repeatedly on the bathroom sink. Pre-game preps meant I gave him blowjobs in his manager’s office hours and hours before everyone even arrived.

Of course, when we ran out of places to hide, we’d go as far as looking for the next empty parking lot and tried to fuck each other noiselessly.

“So when can I take you out for dinner?” he had asked one day, when he dragged me out to meet with him around after midnight. I wouldn’t let him inside my apartment and I refused to do the deed in his either, so he’d bring me to places that only us knew, to fuck, to kiss, sometimes to talk, but more often, to drive each other’s pleasure and only that.

Because god forbid we both catch feelings and lose the fun, right?

So no talking, no sharing of personal details, no anything.

We were in an empty parking lot, away from the lampposts and streetlights. Shohei had made sure that we were well hidden in the dark.

He had his legs spread while sitting on the driver’s seat. His hands, warm and wide, rested on my hips and thighs, lightly urging me to ride him slowly.

Soft RNB music played on the stereo, it was a quiet, still night. It was both our day off so he had wanted us to chill and take the sex slowly.

Slow meant gazing at each other’s eyes–gaze, not look–with endearment or adoration, not lust or pleasure. Slow meant thinking the unthinkable thoughts. Slow meant being vulnerable while coming undone.

And I don’t want the slow and quiet moments. I wanted the fast and rough with no time to talk, gaze or even think, just one hundred percent fun and debauchery.

“Mmm. Maybe when you show me your photos,” I avoided the question but I also knew Shohei would never show me the photos he had taken–past and present. Even when we had been buddies for an entire semester, he had, not once, shown me his portfolio.

“So probably never, right?” he gazed up at me with his creamy brown eyes, hands caressing my stomach lightly.

“Probably,” I muttered and with that he had gripped my thighs tightly and moved his hips upwards to meet me. I moaned when he hit me in the right spots. Any sign of softness he had shown a few moments ago was gone, and only the roughness and unsettling disconnection remained.

This particularly fine day, I would be standing at the mercy of his mouth. He had dragged me to an empty storage room in the east wing of the stadium, hours after practice. According to him, the area stands the exact opposite from the lockers so most people hardly come by. How he had found out about this, I had no idea.

He was kneeling in between me, my right leg hooked on his shoulder, giving him more access and my hands tugged at the strands of his hair every time he licked my sensitive clit.

Shohei’s tongue grazing against me had left me quivering in delight. He stands up and kisses me, giving me a taste. My fingers started unbuckling his belt when he felt his phone vibrate.

“Oops, Ippei’s looking for me.” He pockets his phone, looking forlorn, as if telling me he didn’t really want to go yet. “See you again next time?”

“Yours or mine?” I had asked, brushing up and straightening my wrinkled dress. And when I realized what I had done, Shohei’s eyes shot up and he beamed widely.

“I just– I- I want a proper night with sex, you know.” I explained, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s so uncomfortable having to go commando at work after you had just literally sucked the life out of my vagina, Sho.”

“Mmm-hmm.” He smiled even more.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“What? Fuck off.” By this time, my face felt hot and had probably looked red like a tomato, which probably amused Shohei even more.

“Your place, then. I’ll call you.” he gives me one last kiss then heads out first, leaving me a dazed and pulsating mess.

A shrill sound knocked me awake. It felt like seven thousand screaming hungry babies in my ear, bouncing off around my brain like a pinball.

I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table and saw the time glinting behind the glass: 8:41 PM. I must've fallen asleep after taking a half day off from work, feeling nauseous and slightly feverish. It seemed that whatever body malaise that I have been carrying inside me earlier had sprung into a full-blown ailment.

I pushed my body up and walked groggily to the source of my misery.

Someone was buzzing the doorbell and repeatedly pounding on the door. Great.

“If you’re not dead or dying behind this door, you’re about to be.” I croaked harshly, throat burning; putting all my remaining energy in pulling the door open. I was greeted by an extremely tall man with frantic brown eyes, searching my face.

“Oh, thank fucking god. I’ve been knocking for half an hour.” he wrapped me in a tight hug, I almost collapsed. Partly because of the throbbing headache and overall discomfort that I already felt, but hugely because of the warm minty scent of Shohei Ohtani.

“Jesus, you’re burning up!”

“What are you doing here?” I said, struggling in his grip, his face resting on the curve of my neck. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“You don’t text someone ‘at least i’ll die happy today knowing that my last meal was shoyu ramen’ and then not fucking reply after.” We were still standing by the entrance, his face now angled towards me, a look of concern or anger mixed in his face, I couldn’t tell. My cerebral cortex functions seemed to have shut down after witnessing this unexpected tenderness.

“Medicine knocked me down cold.” I shrugged weakly.

Shohei pulled me into the bedroom and tucked me back in, apologizing for his intrusion, putting down plastic bags of what seemed to be groceries on the kitchen counter, and went back to lightly scolding me for proper texting etiquette to family and friends, to anyone really. That my dark humor doesn’t translate well in messages and that I could have really died and people would think I’m joking but really, he got so scared that he went here as fast as he could.

I don’t remember much but in between fever dreams and my ibuprofen haze, I faintly remember the savory taste of rice porridge exploding in my mouth, the constant dabbing of a cold towel on my face, neck and chest, sometimes, my back, too; the smell of rubbing alcohol and a large, gentle, almost loving touch.

I don’t remember much but in between waking up in the darkness and stone-cold silence, I remember soft forehead kisses until I drifted back to sleep; of big strong arms enclosing me into a big embrace, as if to tell me, you can put your guard down now. you are safe here.

I don’t remember much from coming in and out of slumber, but I remember thinking: wouldn’t it be nice if this wasn’t a dream?

======================================

Reset

In the end, I quit sports media on my own volition and got into a friend’s ceramics house. I have always had a thing for ceramics and sculpting as early as college, where I had met my then-professor and now friend–who happens to be the owner of mentioned ceramics house. She had always praised me and encouraged me to join her when she first opened the shop, but as someone who had musings for writing at the time, I politely declined and pursued, you guessed it, journalism.

I’ve always been good at writing, no doubt, from the way professors always had a good word for me, but I always seem to get into the wrong places every time. Time moves fast if you’re a journo, if you’re slow, then the news is rehashed news, it would just be a late-night recap at a midnight slot that no one is ever awake to watch.

Here, inside her shop, it was quiet, and time moved slowly. I can get into my laziest clothes and no one bats an eye. I can finally retire my stilettos and straight cut blazers.

It was all so going well. The customers were always mid-twenties who got interested in our social media marketing of creating your own mugs and other ceramics and always came in in groups, duos, and solos.

Slowly, I realized that not everyone gets to the places they want. Even when you work blood and sweat for it. Not all were built like, say, Shohei Ohtani, whose talent was recognized early and afforded him an automatic slot in the big leagues.

Some are born to be big icons and some, like the rest of us, are meant for smaller, softer spaces. I get that now. It finally felt like I was in the right place and pace.

All this positivity and good timing felt all too good to be true and been proven accurate when the scandal blew up.

Shohei Ohtani photographed exiting his LA apartment with a woman in his arms.

Shohei Ohtani’s rumored girlfriend receives backlash from fans: READ MORE

EXCLUSIVE: More photographs of Shohei Ohtani and rumored girlfriend driving away in his Porsche

Rumored girlfriend of Shohei Ohtani: Who is She?

When I say it was everywhere, I meant it exploded right in front of our faces like a million confetti, falling and twirling fast. It was unstoppable. It was inevitable.

I felt my limbs go numb when I read the morning news. There in bold and black letters was the headline, my name and a clear photo of me holding Shohei’s arm, smiling. A certain news outlet had gotten juice of us and our secret hideouts and had spread all over social media like wildfire. You know what’s funnier? The media outlet that released this was my previous employer. The same company that asked me to snuff out a controversy. While I had failed to give them the news they wanted, I had unintentionally brought them an exclusive that wrote my entire name–and face–off the map and potentially ruined Shohei Ohtani’s clean record.

Shohei Ohtani, despite his happy-go-lucky and passive demeanor, was a very serious and straight-laced person. I already knew this in university but I got to see more of this side of him when we had started the fucking thing. Even though I had clearly told him that I didn’t want any strings attached, it was unavoidable to give and receive bits and pieces of each other when we’re not naked.

I did enjoy talking to Shohei under the sheets. His ingenious ideas and the way he talked about the things he adored spilled all over him, like afternoon sunlight streaming in between curtains, making way even through the small spaces to cast his light. I basked into this warmth as much time allowed me, because who knows when I can experience the glow of his presence again after all the chaos.

He was exactly like the golden hour: a warm afternoon orange luminescence that usually only stays for ten to fifteen minutes a day. If you wait too long to look up, he disappears quickly as he goes, leaving only the faint orange, yellow and pink hues chasing after him before the black of the night takes over you.

Well, now the fairytale has run its course and the sun has set to announce that golden hour is over. Night has finally fallen on me and I’m feeling scared and alone.

The first thing I did was to grab as much stuff as I could and put them all in my luggage and filed for an indefinite leave.

As if like clockwork, my phone rang and saw Shohei’s name on the caller ID. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. What could I possibly say to him? That I used him just for the clicks and the views? That after all this time we spent together, he would realize that I am still the same despicable, scathing piece of garbage who’d trample on anyone just for a few cents?

So I don’t answer. Even when he calls back again and again and leaves me twenty or more messages by the hour. I turned my phone off. The latest message from Ohtani coming up on the notifications bar read, “Where are you?” before the screen flashed to black.

I have nothing but my pride left. I’d like to keep it that way. In such a way, I was embarrassed, too. I thought I finally had something to brag about. A job that I actually liked and enjoyed, a peaceful mind, and the possibility of liking a guy who had shown me nothing but kindness.

And because I couldn’t handle all of this, I handled it like I have always handled things: I ran away like a coward.

I rode a bus without reading its destination card and let it drive me away as far as it could, to someplace where no one knew me or Shohei Ohtani, or had any idea about the news.

The bus drove away and I never looked back.

================================

Waiting Until My Spring Comes Again: Shohei’s POV

Just like that I lost her. She wasn’t even mine to begin with.

When the news broke out, I was so furious that I wanted to drive to the news outlet that published the article and give them a piece of my mind. I knew my blind rage would have done more damage so I didn’t.

Instead, I looked for her and wanted to let her know that whatever happens, I won’t drop her just like that. That I’m willing to acknowledge the rumors and make it official, if she wanted to.

I’ve always been open to the idea of taking it to the next level with her but every time I broached the subject, she would change the topic, get into a foul mood, or try to pick a fight with me. Which I found endearing. She’s so adorable when she pouts. And when she pushes her luck thinking a five foot four girl like her can withstand someone as tall as me.

I just can’t help but laugh and feel a flutter in my stomach. She’s someone who has been adorable and held a special corner in my heart.

Y/N’s face was so expressive and whatever emotion she was in it would always be evident on her face. When she’s happy, a dimple on her cheek shows up. When she’s feeling sad or down, she’d look downcast and would prefer that you leave her alone. When she’s thinking about something deep, she would chew on her lower lip and always had a blank almost unfocused stare. Despite her many faces, I’m sure as hell that I love all of them. I wanted to be by her side when all this shit happened, I wanted to see which face she was making. Is she pissed like I was? Is she sad? I wouldn’t know. The moment her number didn’t connect after I had tried reaching her, I already knew that she was avoiding me.

I lost count of how many messages I had sent her, of how many missed calls and voicemails I left her. She was unreachable. She gave me her spare key so when I tried visiting her apartment, it was empty.

She was gone.

And only the traces of her lingered in her apartment. Her unwashed mug with leftover stale coffee was on the kitchen counter, specks of lipstick staining the mouth. Dirty clothes hanging on her bathroom door, forgotten and unwashed. The peachy scent of her purifier that always latches on to her clothes whenever we go out. Her unread books on her coffee table, some dog eared and annotated.

Everything that I love about her is here except for her and I miss her.

For the next couple of days, I dodged the media and focused on training, playing and practicing. Those three over and over again. I tried to not think about her and lose sleep because of her. An athlete’s wellbeing is connected to quality sleep.

But she was everywhere I went. Pieces of her were scattered all over the places I avoided, and it was my fault really, for bringing her to places we usually hid. For hoping that someday, the secrets we hid would be our stories to tell. Now I just let her memories rot inside my heart, where she should be.

I thought it would be easier when you just let it slip by but the more days that passed without seeing her, the more I feel a gnawing pain in my heart. She had sucked all my sunlight and took it all away with her.

I want her back.

=====================================

My Answer is You

Eleven days. It took me nine days to realize running away was a bad idea.

When I first got off the bus, I thought the place looked familiar. Turns out, I rode the bus to my hometown, to the very south and the last bus stop until it turned around to go back to the city.

When I appeared in front of my mom–the first time in a long time–she had immediately said, “Did something in the city?”

The moment she asked, I broke down in tears. She shushed and consoled me while I cried like a little kid. Like the way I had bawled to her when my first boyfriend broke up with me, or when my love birds died from illness, the other from loneliness.

It feels like I would die of loneliness, Mom. I had said.

Did he really say that? Did he tell you that it’s over? She cooed.

I was embarrassed to admit to my mom that no, Shohei had never told me anything because I had shut him out even before I could give him the chance. But what if that call was already the end of it all? What if answering his call meant exactly what I had thought. That would shatter me more.

So, no, Mom, you can call your daughter a coward but in her heart, it’s all over.

The next forty-eight hours at home was a blur. After feeding me with what feels like a day’s worth of homemade dishes, she made me wash the dishes, clean my old room, and the living room as well. And when that wasn’t enough, she made me go with her to the night market and bought whatever seafood she could find to feed me.

Is this what you did when Dad left? I wanted to ask her. Did you go around acting as normal while nursing a wounded heart? Did you go all through that facade just to show me that you were strong for the both of us?

She had her back to me, her hands pale and creased with age, showing signs of passage of time and her hardwork to put me to school. I know she was trying to make me busy to keep my mind off of Shohei. I’m not sure if she fully understands the scandal but she was trying her best to keep my head above the water. Probably just like how she always did.

I wish I was strong like you, Mom.

On the fourth and fifth day, she had let me work under the sun harvesting corn. Which I absolutely despised. I had to wear sun hats and these jumpers to cover myself from the heat.

“It’s cheap labor for letting you stay and eat my food,” she said when I complained. “Tomorrow, you’ll help me sell these at the market.”

As the days grew idly by, I’ve grown more accustomed to rising early and eating less meat and more vegetables. I willingly went out of the sun more to do housework, like hanging clothes, watering Mom’s plants, however, I was still not willing to harvest her vegetables, which she made me do a lot. When I say a lot, it means everyday since then.

On the eleventh morning, I woke up earlier than usual and found my mom already awake. She busied herself with a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, mom.” I yawned, grabbing my own mug.

“After breakfast, pack your things and go back to the city.” She said quietly.

“Huh?” I’m not sure I heard her right. Is she kicking me out?

She pushed today’s newspaper into my hands and pointed at an article. An article shows a picture of Shohei smiling at the camera, behind him was a framed candid photo of me turning my head just in time when the camera clicked, I was wearing a sleeveless shirt, a shawl draped over my shoulders, and the wind blowing my hair and covering my face slightly. Just by looking at the photo, it looked like a time when Shohei and I drove to the beach. He had brought his camera and took a lot of photos.

The article said, “Portfolio on Love: Shohei Ohtani’s Photographs Displayed for A Cause.”

“....and when the powerhouse athlete gets a day off, he plays around his camera and takes photos of anything, everywhere. He reveals Insider Today that for the first time ever, he is displaying his portfolio to the public at the Grand City Museum starting today until the 31st of the month, with the theme of “hello, love, are you there?”

“...’I don’t know how else to define love but this. I hope when the public sees this, they will instantly know that my photographs are a reflection of my love,’ he said.

“When asked if this was a confirmation to the rumors flying around recently, he just smiled sadly and said, "I'm hoping that this answers everyone’s questions, especially hers.”

“If your face is plastered on all of the newspapers, it wouldn’t make sense to stay here longer.” Mom said after a while. She had finished her breakfast and took them away to the sink.

“It doesn’t end well if you’re too afraid, my darling.” she said, not looking at me. “To love and to be hurt is to be brave. If it doesn’t work out after facing him, then by all means. Come home. My doors are always open for you. And I will feed you rice cakes while you harvest my corn.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. She wasn’t a hugger but welcomed my hug and patted me on the shoulders. “Now go, before all the chismosas wake up and corners you.”

I packed my bags and left home, my heart pieced back together. It was not wrong to go home and seek shelter. What I did wrong was leaving Shohei all alone when he took most of the fall.

Five hours, one taxi ride, and a ten minute walk later, I arrived at the city museum, nervous, anxious, feeling a little lightheaded and hesitant. I wiped my sweaty palms and got inside.

It was not as packed as I had expected, probably because it was a little over after lunch, though there was still a relatively big crowd overall.

When I stepped into the hall featuring Shohei’s displays, I felt a surge of emotion. It was a collection of all the photographs of his loved ones. In a black and white collection, he had photographed his parents holding hands while walking in the snow, a photo of his dog sleeping idly on his couch, a photo of the football stadium in a wide angle shot, showing Ippei and the rest of his teammates playing a warm up game before practice.

When I turned to a corner, that’s when I saw it. There were multiple frames hanging intricately on one side, showing all of the photos he took of me. One during university days, where I was showing him a strangely large eggplant during our photo walks at the market. There was another with me looking at him angrily for reasons I couldn’t remember, and a more recent one, in the middle, where he was holding my hand while I walked forward, back facing the camera.

On the metal plate below were words that read in cursive: “2009–present. Moments of love that I hold dear.”

At that moment, tears had started rolling down my cheek and I couldn’t help but sob. The onlookers nearby started moving away, probably weirded out by the sudden burst of emotion over some piece of art.

They weren’t just pieces of art. These were moments when Shohei and I were together and maybe realized that it was love.

By then, someone on my left offered a handkerchief and I gingerly took it, wiping my tears-strewn face. I muttered an apology for ruining the fabric.

“This is not the first time someone cried in front of my photographs. Some were absolutely heartbroken after seeing them.” a man’s voice said. And that reeled me back as I turned around and saw Shohei standing in front me.

“I knew this would lure you back,” he said, smiling.

His face was a little gaunt and tired. He had dark circles around his eyes that I’ve never seen before. I could only look at him and he looked back. I had so many things I wanted to say to him, so many things I wanted to explain but he spoke first and said:

“Did you get a tan?” he started, raising an eyebrow.

“I-I was harvesting corn!” I said, covering my face with both hands. I didn’t even have the time to put on makeup or a swab of lipstick and that’s the first thing he notices.

He took my hands and held them tightly against his chest. “No one looks this beautiful even after harvesting corn.”

“Shut up,” I said looking away.

He tipped my chin and held my face. “Let’s start again, shall we?”

I raised an eyebrow in question.

“Hi, my name is Shohei Ohtani. I’m an athlete and an amateur photographer sometimes. I’ve been in love with the girl in the photographs since forever.”

I managed a smile and laced my hands around his neck. “Hi, I’m a ceramics maker and sometimes, a farmer, you should see the corn I harvest. You look so familiar. I think you look like my future boyfriend.”

His eyes perked up and laughed at our silly little game. He went in for a kiss and I obliged, feeling safe and brave in his arms.

Let them take the damn photographs and write the articles all they want, but they could never take my sunshine away ever again.

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