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stevesherdaddynowlover · 5 months ago

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pet names and looped pinkies pt.2 [s.h.] 18+

an: hiii me again :) literally one person asked for this so i ran to do it and ended up going a little crazy with it but oh well! hope you enjoy!! feel free to send suggestions or ideas or just chat :) also this is not edited i was too tired goodnight and god bless steve harrington

masterlist

summary: a part 2 to this in which you and steve are best friends but really you want more and are too scared to say it. (steve harrington x fem!reader)

warnings: okayyyy very anxious reader, bottling up our emotions, cursing, kissing, fluff, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, some spit, an almost blowjob, i think thats it??? 18+ MDNI!!!!!

wc: 9.6k

So what if you watched your best friend that you’re madly in love with get off in front of you! So what if you helped him! It was fine. Perfectly fine, right?

Wrong.

Your head was a mess, everything all jumbled up and you didn’t know how to sort through any of this. It had been three days since it happened and you’d been as normal as possible with Steve, answering his phone calls and eating with him on his lunch break. Everything was fine as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t until you climbed into your bed at night that your head started to spin, and not in a good way, your palms sweating and your chest feeling heavy.

Confused. You were so beyond confused and frustrated with yourself over this whole situation. Confused because it had been one of the best experiences of your life and now your brain was picking it apart piece by piece and making your stomach turn and your head pound. Steve had said all the right things, all the things you’d wanted to hear for years, but you also had your hand on his cock so how much of that did he actually mean! Did he even remember it, want to remember it? What if he never wanted to do it again or even worse wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen?

And frustrated. So fucking frustrated with yourself because these cruel, mean thoughts were based off nothing besides your own worries! They had no merit, but that did little to soothe the ache in your chest when you thought about your friendship with Steve.

The rational part of your brain, what was left of it at least, knew that if you just talked to Steve that this could all be cleared up. He would listen to you ramble and maybe he had a good enough handle on his emotions that he could give you some clarity. You knew this. You knew Steve would never be cruel or malicious with you, especially about something like this. And a part of you even knew that despite how well you thought you had hid it, Steve probably knew just how much this, how much he really meant to you.

But the much bigger part of your brain, the irrational part, held so much worry and fear about this potential conversation with Steve that you’d kept your mouth shut for the last 3 days. What if he regretted it? What if he didn’t mean anything he said and you were just there at the right time? What if this makes things weird and you lose your best friend? What if he just feels sorry for you? Does he know how you feel and decided to give you some attention out of…pity?

Your palms had little crescent shapes in them from where you had dug your fingernails, trying to ground yourself and failing miserably. Maybe this wasn’t a big deal. Maybe you were being dramatic and blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe Steve felt the same. But did you want to risk that? Could you? Because all you really knew at the end of the day was that you loved him. You loved him more than you ever thought possible, so much your heart felt like it could burst when he smiles at you or laughs a little too hard at something that’s not even funny.

So you kept your mouth shut and tried to be as normal as possible. You kept that fake smile on your face and prayed that nobody noticed, or kept it to themselves if they did. You let Steve tug on your hair and loop his pinky with yours as if it didn’t break your heart a little more each time he did it.

Any piece of him would be enough for you, it was better than not having any of him at all.

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

Steve could tell that something was up. He’d expected you to avoid him after that night and was pleasantly surprised when you answered his call on the second ring the next morning, smiling to himself and trying not to bounce on his heels like an overexcited puppy.

But then he’d seen you in person. You’d come to Family Video on your day off to eat lunch with him on his break, giving him a quick once over when you first walked in but besides that…nothing. Maybe you were feeling a little shy, he could understand that. He saw the small smile you gave him when he pulled out two pb&j’s, one for him and one for you and it made his heart soar. He liked doing things for you, loved making you happy.

He thinks he’d give you the moon if he could.

Everything seemed normal so far, you were a little more quiet than usual but considering the circumstances he wasn’t too surprised by that. It’s when you’re sitting down with him in the break room that he notices. You’re talking now, laughing at his stupid jokes and teasing him like always, but it’s different.

You’re here but you’re not. You’re not looking at him, you’re looking around him. You’re giving him smiles and giggles but they’re not yours. This is even worse than what he imagined because you’re trying to act normal. He can practically see your head spinning, thoughts going crazy behind your eyes and it kills him. It hurts because you’re keeping this from him. You’re hiding from him.

If he’s being honest with you and himself, he’s been freaking out about this so he knows you’ve been too. But he thought you were good enough friends that it wouldn't have been weird to talk about it. He thought he made you feel safe and comfortable enough to confide in him.

But maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he needed to try harder to make sure you knew that he was there for you. Always. That he’d do anything to make you feel safe. That you could come to him with anything and he’d listen without judgment. That he loved you.

“Do you wanna talk about it, honey?” He bit the bullet, hoping this didn’t blow up his face and praying to god you didn’t want to forget it had ever happened, he knew he sure as hell wouldn’t.

“Oh..no-we don’t have to, I mean we can if you want but I’m fine. I mean, it’s fine, right? We’re good.” He knew he’d lost you, your eyes dropping to the floor to stare as your foot tapped nervously on the tile.

“Later, then. We can talk about it when you’re ready, yeah?” The fucking Family Video break room wasn’t the place to have this conversation anyways but he couldn’t stand to see you pretending around him, acting like you were okay when you weren’t.

He hated to see you pretending but he hated even more that he couldn't lean across this tiny table and kiss you. God he wanted to taste you again, to watch how your pretty pink lips got all swollen and slick and to feel how your hands tugged mercilessly on his curls while you dragged him closer to you.

But he could be patient. He’d wait for you forever if that's what it took.

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

A party was the last place you wanted to be tonight, but when Steve had called you and practically begged for you to come, you found yourself agreeing before you knew what you were doing. As if you’d ever be able to say no to him. You did manage to tell him you’d meet him there, needing to give yourself some time to get your head on straight and pretend to be put together.

You’re not even sure whose house this is, you didn’t recognize the address when it was given to you over the phone and standing on the front porch now in front of an open door with people and music pouring out of it, you think you’ve made a huge mistake.

Despite the nagging feeling in your gut telling you to turn around and run back home, you think of Steve and you just don’t have the heart to not show up. Pushing through the crowd of people proves harder than expected, a grunt escaping when you catch an elbow or hip that almost knocks you over. You keep pushing and pushing until finally you’ve made it through and you’re face to face with Robin, a smile breaking out over her face before she’s rushing forward to pull you into a hug.

She’s drunk, you can tell and she confirms as much when she pulls back and looks around to make sure no one is listening like she’s got some big secret. “Thank god you’re here! I don’t think I could take another second of Steve’s whining. We’re both three sips away from blackout drunk because I made it a game between the two of us.” She’s talking so fast and bobbing her head along that you can barely make out what she’s saying. But before you can ask her to clarify, she is.

“Yep. Told him that everytime he mentioned you or asked about you we’d both have to take a drink. Bad game idea now that I think about it, tomorrow is gonna suck but it was worth it. He’s awfully quiet when he’s not blabbing about you. Jesus Christ I don’t even want to think about how many times I’ve heard the word bunny in the last hour and a half.”

Your heart is thudding dangerously fast in your chest, a blush working its way up your cheeks and you think if you’d fall to the ground if it wasn’t for Robin still clinging onto you.

Before you can even begin to dissect her words you’re pushed forward, a curse falling past your lips as you grip Robin’s arm hard enough to make her wince and curse at the person behind you. It doesn’t take long before you figure out who it is though.

“There she is, there’s m’girl.” He’s right there behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and head tucked into the crook of your neck. You can feel his fingers digging into your tummy and his hair tickling your cheek as he nuzzles closer to you. His deep, gravelly voice sends a shiver down your spine and you can’t help but to relax into him, eyes fluttering closed as his words wash over you.

He’s drunk, beyond drunk, and you know that but it doesn’t mean your thighs don’t clench at the quick, wet open mouthed kisses he’s leaving on the side of your neck before you can manage to pull away and turn around to get a good look at him.

Turning around was a bad idea. Oh my god it was such a bad idea. Because when you do you’re faced with the sexiest, most devastatingly hot version of Steve you’ve ever seen in your life.

Holy fuck. You’re fucked. So fucked.

He has on a button up that hugs his arms so nicely you could cry, the first few buttons undone and showing off a patch of chest hair you didn’t know he had but is now making your eyes widen and fuck there goes another pair of panties. There’s a sheen of sweat over his neck and chest where he’s been dancing and his eyes are dark, pupils blown and almost crazed looking as he takes you in. Those lips you’ve dreamed about for weeks are parted just so, his tongue quickly swiping across his bottom lip and you’ve never seen anyone so perfect. Your hands are clenched at your sides as you drink him in, his hair a mess like he’s run his hands through it a million times tonight and his forehead and neck are slick with sweat too. Goddamn it. Goddamn this party and goddamn Steve Harrington for looking like that.

You’re so caught up in Steve that you forget Robin is there, hell you’ve forgotten you’re at a party filled with people at all, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s looking like that or when he’s looking at you like that. Not when his hands are still on you and he’s giving you a smirk that would have any person dropping to their knees.

Before you do anything too embarrassing you turn back to Robin who is now looking at you both like you’ve got 4 heads. “Rob, how are you getting home? I can walk you but I think you’ve both had enough fun tonight.” You ignore Steve’s whine from behind you, stomping his foot like a toddler at the prospect of having to leave.

“Oh! Don’t worry about me, Nance is coming to pick me up. I just knew Harrington wouldn’t be concerned with anyone but you tonight so I called in for backup.”

Looking back over your shoulder you see Steve with a shy smile as he gives you both a small shrug as to say “yeah and what about it”. Robin flies off before you can say anything else, assuming she’s seen Nancy or someone else she knows you turn back to Steve and take his hand in yours getting ready to tug him out the door when he stops you.

“But you just got here, didn’t even get to have any fun with you, bunny.” He’s wearing an adorable little pout that makes you smile and you’re sure he won’t remember this tomorrow so you reach up to push his hair back, patting his cheek on your way.

“You’re drunk, Steve. Like drunk drunk. I need to get you home and in bed, okay? We can do something tomorrow, promise, but I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“Oh we’re going to bed? I can get behind that.”

“You are going to your bed and I am going to my own bed tonight, Harrington.” You pinch his side to scold him but he doesn’t care, trying to come off as innocent as possible even though he’s got you reeling right now.

If there’s one thing Steve knows how to be, it’s dramatic. “Ugh fine! But I am not leaving until you dance with me. Just one, baby, please?”

“One, Harrington!” You huffed, pretending to be annoyed as he dragged you further into the crowd of people. You were too focused on him and the feel of his skin on yours to even pay attention to what song was booming around you.

His hands were on your hips, yours wrapped around his neck as you swayed back and forth. You were almost positive this was not a slow song but you didn’t care. Everyone was practically dry humping around you, but when he flashed you that ‘King Steve’ smirk you couldn’t help but to smile back, shaking your head at him.

He pulled you closer to him, leaning down to talk to you over the loud music and chatter from the people pressed in on every side of you.

“So pretty, you know that?”

“You’re drunk, Steve.”

He scoffed, acting like that offended him. “And? That doesn’t make it any less true.”

Rolling your eyes you just shook your head, trying to look at anywhere else but him. It was hard acting like his words didn’t make your heart skip a beat, but he was drunk and now was not the time to dive into this.

Gripping your chin between his fingers, your eyes were brought to his. “M’serious. Don’t roll your eyes at me like it’s silly. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Words stuck in your throat you didn’t know what to do besides look at him and why the fuck did it feel like you were about to cry. All you could do was nod, pulling back to create some sort of space between you two. You needed to breathe, to think and you couldn’t do that pressed up against him.

“Your one dance is up! Let’s go, Harrington.”

Dragging him behind you was like trying to drag a toddler out of a candy store. He was pouting, dragging his feet behind you and making this as difficult as possible. “Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what? Your name?”

“Harrington. Don’t call me that, I don’t like it, like it when you call me Stevie.” You didn’t say anything, just kept walking. This was going to be the longest ten minute walk of your life. He took your silence as his cue to keep going, “I keep thinking about it—your hand on my cock, I mean. Can’t even tell you how many times I’ve got off to it in the last few days. And your lips, oh my god, your lips. Takin’ up all the space in my brain, pretty girl.”

“Steve!” You turned around and smacked at his chest. “We are not talking about this when you’re almost blackout drunk, alright? We’re taking you home. That’s it, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am!” He saluted you, doing a poor job at keeping his amusement at bay. It’s quiet between the both of you for the rest of the walk, up until you’re at his door and fumbling for his keys that he’s dangling above your head like it’s a game.

“I’ll give you the keys if you promise to talk about this with me.”

“Sleep outside for all I care!”

“Oh cmon, please? Pretty please? You’re acting weird with me and I may be drunk but I’m aware enough to know I miss you, even if you’re right here.”

Alright so maybe you hadn’t done a good job of pretending to be normal. Or maybe Steve just knew you better than you thought, which was scary. You needed to rip the bandaid off. Push your fears aside and try and work this out so you don't feel so miserable and alone all the time.

“Tomorrow, okay? Go inside and get some sleep and I promise I’ll come over tomorrow and we’ll have a real conversation about this. I swear, Steve but we cannot do it while you're drunk off your ass.”

Your ass that looks amazing in these jeans, might I add.

He huffed like a petulant child, rolling his eyes and dropping his keys into your open palm and moved aside so you could finally open the door. Pushing the door open you shoved him in, making sure he didn’t fall and then stepping back onto the porch.

“I’m going, okay? Go drink a big glass of water and then go to bed. I’ll see tomorrow.”

He flashed you one of those lazy smiles that made you melt, giving you a little wink as he leaned against his doorframe. “G’night, bunny. Can I get a goodnight kiss?”

“Goodnight, Stevie.”

All you heard as you walked down his steps was his laughter and the door closing, porch light turning on so you could see. You waited on the sidewalk until you were sure he locked his door.

You were fucked, as per usual.

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

It’s an hour before you’re supposed to be at Steve’s and you feel like you’re gonna throw up. You’ve spent the whole day pacing around your room and picking up the phone every fifteen minutes to cancel on him.

But you can’t. You promised. And you’re cursing yourself for swearing anything to a drunk Steve, especially because he shouldn’t even remember it but of course he did! He called you bright and early, far too early for how drunk he had been, and reminded you about your “date” as he’d called it.

You’d thrown on one of his t-shirts because the smell of him surrounding you was the only thing keeping you sane right now. You didn’t have the energy to get dolled up for him, too nervous about tonight to even think about it.

You’ve gone back and forth about a million times on what to say and you’ve decided on the truth. You’d tell him you liked him as more than a friend, that you didn’t want to lose him but didn’t want to keep it from him anymore.

And you’d hope for the best.

God you were definitely gonna throw up. You’d cried probably five times today already, your hands had been shaky since you woke up, and you slept like shit. But you couldn’t keep going like this. Having little pieces of him was enough, at least you thought it was. But it wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t fair to either of you.

The clock ticking away was taunting you. You needed to leave now and for the first time today your feet didn’t want to move. Cmon, be a big girl.

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

The walk to Steve’s was quiet but your mind was anything but. You were staring at his front door now like it would bite you if you got too close. He must have had a sixth sense, or he was watching from the window like a puppy because one second you're staring at his door and the next it’s thrown open and he’s there. He’s there and he’s beautiful and he’s glowing even though he should be glued to the bathroom floor from how much he drank.

“How ya feeling, Harrington?”

He tugged you in and closed the door behind you, that pout you’ve grown to love staring back at you. “Told you not to call me that, didn’t I? It’s Stevie to you.”

He tried to pull you into him but you slipped past, running into the living room and plopping down on the couch, hearing his footsteps follow after you quickly. He sat down on the opposite end and you must have been frowning at that because he was quick to speak up.

“I’m only sitting so far away because I actually want to have this conversation and if you’re too close to me I won’t be able to focus, honey. Don’t frown at me.”

Eyebrows raised, you stared at him. He’d always been blunt with you, openly flirty but sometime in the last few days a switch had flipped with him too. You always thought it was casual but now he’s saying things that make you feel like he might want this too, might want you.

“Oh, um, alright. That makes sense, I guess.”

It was quiet and you were quickly realizing you weren’t the only one that was nervous. His fingers were running along the stitching of the couch and your hands were twisting in your lap.

Fuck it, it was now or never. “I’m gonna start, if that’s okay?” He nodded at you and you cursed yourself for speaking up. But maybe if you just pushed it all out as quick as possible this would be quick and painless. Or maybe the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you whole.

“I’m gonna say this and then we can go from there. I like you. A lot. More than best friends like each other. I don’t think best friends give their friends handjobs either but we did that and anyways I like you. If you don’t feel the same way that’s fine, I’ll get over it. I just don’t want to lose you, ya know? I get it might be awkward at first and it might take time but you’re just so important to me. The most important person in my life. And you’re so good, so special I would just be really sad if I didn’t have you. But it wasn’t fair to me or to you to keep it from you so here I am. Saying lots of shit. But the point is I like you and I want you anyway you’ll have me.”

You were sucking in quick breaths by the time you finished, taking your quick and painless approach a little too far. You don’t think you actually took a breath during that little speech and that wasn’t doing anything to help with the lightheadedness you were already feeling.

He was dead still and quiet beside you and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Okay…maybe you had completely misread this situation. The longer it took him to speak the worse you felt. Maybe you could make it to the door before he even noticed you were up? He seemed stunned. Maybe you could make it?

“Don’t run.”

Could he read your fucking mind? What the hell was that? But you obeyed, still looking straight ahead and didn’t dare turn toward him. God this was horrible. There was a reason you kept your feelings all bottled up, because there was a chance it would go like this! You let them out and you feel even worse than you did before.

“I’m sorry I’m not saying anything but I’m a little pissed off and trying to find a way to say this that doesn’t come out mean,”

wait—what? Oh god. If you were lost before you were gone now. Pissed off? About what? “I’m pissed off because it sounds like you're writing this off as nothing before I’ve even been aware there was something there. And I’m pissed at myself because I’ve done a pretty shit job at showing my feelings for you. I thought it was obvious I was obsessed with you, but it seems you didn’t pick up on it and I’m pissed we wasted so much time tip toeing around each other when you could have even officially been my girl for a long time now.”

You didn’t even know where to start with that. Where to even begin unpacking what he had just thrown at you. A little part of you wasn’t totally shocked but you’d really just done such a good job at convincing yourself it was one-sided that you felt like you’d just gotten a bomb dropped on you.

“I…well I just thought you were that way with everyone.”

He looked at you like you were stupid, and maybe you were. Your brain was trying to catch up to what had just happened and was doing a shit job when he looked at you as if it was common sense that he felt that way.

“Have you ever heard me call anyone else baby, or sweetheart, or honey, or anything like that?”

“Well no, but—”

“Am I ever hanging all over anyone else? Trying to get their attention and be as close to them as possible? Tugging on anyone’s hair or holding their hands or making them cuddle me?”

“I mean not that I’ve been but Stevie—”

“You haven’t, because all that shit is reserved for you, baby. I only call you those names, mainly because I love to see your cheeks get all pink. I only touch you like that. Only want you on me. I get so fuckin’ jealous when you’re looking at anyone else. I tug on your hair like a toddler just so you’ll look at me or tease me or scold me. You get that? It’s only you. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear enough but I fuckin’ swear. You’re my best friend but you’re so much more. You’re my girl, my bunny, aren’t you?”

One second you were feet away from him on the couch and the next you’re launching yourself across and into his lap so quickly he barely had time to wrap his arms around you before your lips were pressed against his. It was hot and messy and urgent as if one of you would disappear at any moment.

“M’sorry, Stevie. So sorry. It’s not you, it’s my brain. I just get so scared and I just care about you so much I just…I convinced myself you didn’t want me that way and I got so deep in those feelings I wouldn’t let myself see any different. And I didn’t bring it up, I hid it from you and I’m sorry. Oh my god, I’m sorry.”

You’re a mess in more ways than one, emotions all over the place and a million thoughts racing through your mind as you kiss him all over, desperate to be as close to him as humanly possible.

“Shh, shh, don’t be sorry, baby. Nothing to be sorry for. I get it, but now you know that you can talk to me about this stuff, right? We’ll work through it together and figure out the tough shit. I’m not going anywhere. You got me, okay? I’m all yours, always have been.”

Nodding against him was all you could do, too overwhelmed and wrapped up in everything him to think about anything else. He was so sweet, too sweet. He understood you, cared enough to make you feel seen and heard and god it might not the right time but you didn’t care, all you could think about was being with him, close to him, anything you could get.

He was yours now and you would not waste another second.

“Take me upstairs, please.” The words mumbled against his lips but he heard them loud and clear, his hand grabbing yours and dragging you behind him like a rag doll.

He’s barely got the door to his room closed when you’re pushing his back against it, dropping to your knees in front of him and fumbling your way through trying to undo his pants. You know you seem desperate but you are desperate. You’ve never wanted someone like you want him and you think that if you don't get your mouth on him in the next five seconds that the world might actually end.

He’s cursing above you, hands hovering like he doesn’t know where to put them before the land in his hair, head falling back against the door as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Somehow between your quick moving hands and some help from Steve you manage to unbutton his pants, wiggling them over his hips and whimpering at the way they catch on his thighs. Neither of you bother with getting them off, far too occupied with how he’s straining against his boxers. His hands move for them but before he can you’re leaning forward, kissing the outline of his cock through the material and the noise that leaves his mouth is enough to have you moaning against him.

Your knees are already feeling sore against the hardwood floor but you think if he keeps making noises like that you’d stay here for hours.

Chancing a look up at him while you place kisses up and down the length of him you’re met with his eyes instantly, a pained look on his face as he stares down at you. You leave one last kitten lick through his boxers before you pull back enough to really see him. “Are yo- are you okay? Is this not…am I not..I haven’t done this in awhile so I’m not sure if it’s any good, I’m sorry.”

He’s got you up to your feet so fast it makes you dizzy and he’s suddenly looking at you with a look so serious you’re scared you’ve fucked this up. All because you wanted his cock in your mouth damnit!

Before you can apologize again he’s gripping your arms, forcing you to look at him. “You are perfect, that was perfect and fuck I can’t even believe I’m actually turning down the chance to have your pretty mouth on me but I think if you did I’d cum instantly and that would be really embarrassing. So as much as I want it, and believe me baby I want it, I need this to last more than two seconds, alright?”

The initial sting of rejection is quickly replaced with a feeling of pure lust, a craving for him so strong that it makes you falter in front of him. You can’t help the small pout on your lips, you’d really wanted to taste him, to watch him fall apart above you!

“Don’t pout, honey. Y’can have my cock whenever you want. But right now all I’m worried about is making you feel good, okay?” He tugs your bottom lip with his thumb and you smile shyly, lips puckering against the tip of his finger and leaving a small kiss there that makes him smile fondly.

But then an idea sparks and you decide if you can’t taste his cock you want to taste some of him at least. You watch with satisfaction as his jaw goes slack, eyes widening when you part your lips around his thumb, taking it deeper into your mouth and showing him what he's missing by denying you what you really want. Both of you stand there quiet for a moment, you just barely bobbing your head on his thumb and moaning around it when he presses down lightly on your tongue. He’s cursing under his breath, pulling his thumb from your lips with a pop and dripping your chin that’s now slick with your own spit.

“Greedy girl. So needy for cock you’ll stand here and suck on my thumb. S’kinda desperate don’t ya think, baby?”

Under any other circumstance you think you’d be crying from embarrassment but even though his words are teasing, the way he’s looking at you is anything but. He’s got a mean mouth but his eyes are telling you how much he loves it, how lucky he is, how he’s just as desperate if not more.

“Just yours,” His brows are furrowed and a piece of hair falls over his forehead and you clarify quickly, feeling a little shy under his stare, “just your cock, Stevie.”

Realization dawns on him he feels a twitch in his boxers as he stares at you, lips messy with spit and eyes dark just like his. “Just for me, huh?” He can’t even make the adoration for you, a warm sensation running through his body as you nod at him with pink cheeks.

He doesn’t think there’s anyone as perfect as you and the fact that you’re standing here, telling him you need him—fuck how did he get this lucky? There must have been a glitch in the system, some sort of blip but he wasn’t complaining and wouldn’t question it with you hanging on him like you were.

Determined to show you that he was just as needy for you, wanted you just as badly he took your shoulders, gently pushing you until the back of your knees hit his bed. You fell back with a plop, moving yourself back when he nodded his head at you in encouragement.

Hungry didn’t even begin to describe how Steve was looking at you. He was staring you down as if he wanted to devour you, and you’d let him. No one had ever shown any interest in going down on you and it had become something you’d just kind of accepted you wouldn’t experience.

Steve was going to change that.

“Can I, baby?” His hands hovered over your shorts. You’d come over in these and one of his shirts, not caring enough to get dressed up when your goal was to get it all off as quickly as possible. “Need to see your pretty little cunt, bet she’s aching for me, yeah? But she’s all wet and needy and begging for my attention, isn’t she, bunny?”

Jesus Christ, he had a mouth on him. His words alone had you clenching around nothing, hips lifting as you nodded quickly so he could pull your shorts down. He left your panties on and you cursed, a wave of embarrassment flooding through you, mostly because you knew he’d see how wet you were, how wet you had been for weeks because of him.

Shorts thrown somewhere on the floor behind him your thighs closed quickly, head resting on your shoulder as you leaned up on your arms for support. You’d need all the support you could right now. But Steve wouldn’t have any of that. His tongue clicked, a reprimand for depriving him a look between your thighs when it’s all he’d been thinking about for months. He knocked your knees apart and if you weren’t so desperate to see his reaction your head would have fallen back on the bed.

You’d have thought it was Christmas morning the way he was grinning. Or as if he had just won the lottery! And to him, he had.

“Messy messy girl. Poor thing, I’ll have to fix this, yeah?”

It was all you could do to nod at him and it was only seconds later that he dove in, taking one long, slow lick up the front of your panties, pressing a gentle kiss where your clit was that had you falling back and throwing your arm over your eyes. He was gonna be the death of you.

Apparently that one little taste was enough to dissolve whatever will power he had left because in the next ten seconds your hips were lifted and panties were practically torn down your legs. He took no time at all getting himself back between your thighs, hands on either one holding them apart so he could bury his face there.

If it didn’t feel so good you’d be pissed that this was what you’d been missing out on, but when Steve was sucking your clit into his mouth with the right amount of pressure to have you seeing stars, or using his fingers to stretch you for his cock, you couldn’t have cared less about anything or anyone else.

You’d also never seen Steve so quiet. Well, he wasn’t exactly quiet, you could feel his muffled moans and pleas against you as you gripped his hair in your hands and pulled him closer, but he was more content than he’d ever been.

You’re not sure how you manage any thoughts, let alone words right now when he’s making you feel so good and you can feel that burn in your tummy that tells you you’re close, but you still find it in you to tease him.

“Can’t believe this was all it took to shut you up, should’ve done this ages ago.” It doesn’t come out as clean and quick as you wanted, it takes about 30 seconds to manage the words. But you’re proud of yourself for teasing him but immediately regret it when he pulls away, a whine leaving your throat as you try and tug him back.

“Y’sure you wanna be mean to me when it’s my mouth you’re grinding against?”

His words ooze with confidence and you know it’s well earned because he’s got you in the palm of his hand. You take the opportunity to get a good look at him, eyes almost black and hair all messy from where you’ve pulled and tugged for the last 15 minutes. He’s wearing his signature smirk and you gasp at his swollen lips and chin that’s quite literally dripping wet with you.

“M’sorry, sorry. Please keep going, I was so close.” He doesn’t make you beg, even though at this point you’d get on your hands and knees if he asked. He goes right back to work, picking up the same pace and you know it won’t take long before that burn in your belly engulfs you completely.

He takes instructions well, groaning his acceptance when you tug him back to your clit, nodding his head in understanding. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum, Stevie,” You’re babbling now, hoping he can make out some of your words as you move your hips faster and harsher against him, chasing your own release.

You can’t hear what he’s saying but can feel his mouth moving against you. He never truly shuts up. And you don’t know it but he’s begging for you to cum. It sends you over the edge anyways, thighs closing around his head tightly as you gasp and your body locks up. It’s too much and not enough, you’re buzzing from head to toe and then you feel him helping you through it, small little licks to your clit, his hands rubbing at your trembling thighs as you try and catch your breath.

“Fuck” Steve might have said it, or it might have been you, you’re not sure. Chest heaving you can’t do anything but stare at the ceiling above you, trying to get your heart to slow down so you can make sense again.

All of a sudden your line of sight is cut off by a mop of brown hair and two sparking eyes hovering over you, a smile so big you’re sure his cheeks must hurt. “Best meal of my life, baby.” His chin is still wet and you move your hand up to collect some on your thumb, sticking it in your mouth with a hum and he doesn’t waste any time before he’s diving down to press his lips against yours. Tasting yourself on his lips makes you moan and it’s then you feel his cock against your stomach, hot and slick and begging for attention.

Pulling away you look down between you and see that sometime between getting you on the bed and making you cum he’s taken his boxers off. When you look back up to him he smiles sheepishly,

“Sorry they were diggin’ into me and I was about to go crazy. But I can…I can put em back on. Don’t want you to feel like we have to do anything else, I’ll happily go back between your thighs and spend the rest of my life there, if you’ll let me.”

Grabbing the back of his neck you pull him down until your foreheads are pressed together, shaking your head at him like he’s crazy. “Stevie, not to be too forward but I refuse to leave this room without you fucking me.”

He laughs. It’s loud and it makes you giggle and your noses are bumping against one another and he’s pressing kisses to your cheeks and the corner of your mouth and he’s backing up just enough to get a good look at you, “Thank fucking god.”

Steve was big. Not that you were complaining but damn you were a little worried about how that was going to fit inside of you. A little part of you was worried about him fitting but a bigger part of you just really wanted this to be good, for both of you. It was cliche but you wanted fireworks and passion and to feel him for days after.

You weren’t a virgin, you’d been with a few guys over the years and sex for you had always just been…okay. Yeah, sometimes it was good, but it was never how you’d read in books or heard on tv shows and movies. Steve didn’t know it but he had just given you your first orgasm by sometime other than yourself! It had never been the mind blowing, toe curling experience you thought it would, but if anyone was going to break the standard, it was Steve Harrington.

He must’ve seen the worry on your face, moving to lay beside you with his hand rubbing comforting circles on your hip. “You sure you wanna do this, sweetheart? Say the word and we can watch a movie or get late night pizza, whatever you want.”

“Can this be one of those times where I say a bunch of shit and you don’t judge me or laugh? Just listen to me.” He nodded at you, all hints of teasing and playfulness gone. You’re sweet Stevie.

“Ok, so, right okay—so I’ve had sex before and it’s been alright but I don’t want alright with you. I want hot and sweaty amazing sex that I’m gonna think about for the rest of my life, ya know? And I don’t doubt that you can deliver, trust me I’m sure you can,” you lean towards him as if you’re not the only ones in the room—the house, and whisper like it’s a secret, “you’ve seen your dick, right? That thing is massive and you seem like you know how to use it!” You sit back up then, only a little embarrassed at your rambling before you continue, “so I guess I’m more worried than I won’t be able to deliver and I just really like you and want this to be good for you and I think I’d never recover if you didn’t have a good time and—”

He stops you with a hand over your mouth, eyes wide and a small smile playing on his lips as he stares at you. “Take a breath, baby. Now.”

Your mouth drops open as soon as he removes his hands, your mind going black at the tone of his voice, so stern and deep. But you do as he says, taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds before letting it out slowly, looking to him for confirmation that you’ve done something right.

“Good girl, there ya go. Now, I didn’t want to cut you off but you were gonna run out of air if I didn’t. It’s my turn to talk now and you’re gonna listen, right?” You can’t help but just nod at him, your mind trying to catch up to your body as his words sink in and wash over you.

He rubs his thumb against your cheek to soothe you and it does the trick, your pulse calming down enough that you can breathe again.

“You do remember about half an hour ago when I stopped you from putting this pretty mouth on my cock because I would’ve cum in seconds, right? Because I’m sorry that I haven’t made it clear to you that this is already the best experience I’ve ever had. Fuck, baby, having your hand on me a few days ago was the highlight of my year. Eating your sweet little pussy is gonna get me off for the rest of my life. This is only good for me because it’s you. You hear me? You don’t need to be nervous or worried about me enjoying this, I swear to you I’m havin’ the time of my life.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until he’s wiping away your tears with his thumb, cooing at you and making your heart thump so hard you can feel it in your toes.

“I love you, ya know.”

This time it’s his turn to be stunned into silence but it only lasts a few seconds before he’s kissing you, or he’s trying his best, it’s hard to kiss when he’s smiling so big against your mouth. “Oh I know, and I love you too, more than anything.”

You feel like a teenager, giggling and peppering kisses all over his cheeks, so in love and just so breathtakingly happy it’s almost unbelievable. You feel silly now that you ever worried about anything, not even he’s so perfect and sweet and kind and yours. He’s worth every minute of panic and stress though.

Then he opens his mouth and you remember that you’re still embarrassingly wet and that he’s still throbbing against your hip.

“And don’t worry about my cock, bunny, we’ll make it fit.”

His thumbs slide under the band of his boxers and he looks to you, making sure it’s okay that he finally peels them off. When you nod he wastes no time in dragging them over his hips and down his legs until he’s kicking them off and onto the ground, both of you letting out a sigh of relief.

You thought Steve’s cock was pretty the first time you saw it but that’s nothing compared to now. He’s painfully hard, tip red and leaking, smearing precum where it lays twitching against his belly. You hold a little resentment toward him now for not letting you put your mouth on him. You think there might even be some drool on your lip as you look at him.

He’s watching you stare at his cock and trying not to cum on the spot, hands clutching his comforter do tight he might rip it. He has to move his eyes away from you so he can attempt to focus, too worked up to really make any sense right now.

“Honey how do you…what do you think would be better for you?” He wants this to be as painless for you as possible, only wants for you to feel good. He’d twist into a pretzel if he thought it would be better for you.

“I’ll uh, I’ll be on top. I think that’ll be best so I can um—I think that’ll be good for me.” He’s not totally sure that his eyes don’t cross at the thought of you riding him, he has to pinch the bridge of his nose hard just to right himself.

You urge him to scoot back so he’s laying down, head resting against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. You move yourself to straddle his thighs, worried that you won’t be able to think straight. In a flash of bravery you whip off his t-shirt and watch as his cock twitches and his mouth drops open. His hands immediately find your painfully hard nipples, tweaking them softly and watching as your stomach clenches when he does.

“Prettiest fuckin’ tits, swear to god. Jesus Christ you’re gorgeous, honey. All of ya, every inch.”

“Can’t wait anymore, Stevie, need you in me please.” The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s reaching towards his nightstand and you don’t know what comes over you but before you can stop it you reach out and grab his arm. Neither of you say anything, staring each other down and waiting for someone to speak, to move.

Fuck. You don’t know why you did that, obviously you should use protection. But…you’re on the pill and haven’t been with anyone in what? A year and a half? And the thought of feeling him…all of him—fuck you know it’s stupid but you can’t care about it right now when he’s so pretty and his cock is so pretty and you just want him.

He speaks before you muster the courage too, voice sounding strained, “Baby..are you saying…are you sure? It’s been awhile since I’ve been with anyone and m’clean I swear but—fuck are you sure?”

“M’sure if you are. Just wanna feel you, Steve.”

He could weep. He could fall to his knees and weep. Here you are, prettiest girl he’s ever seen and not only do you even want to have sex with him but you want to do it raw—fuck he wasn’t gonna last.

“Fuckin’ unreal, you are unreal.”

Instead of answering you took the opportunity to move forward and hover over his cock. Some of your confidence drained, all of this feeling much more real now that he was inches away from you. But you knew there was nothing to be scared of, this was Steve. Your Stevie. There was no one else you trusted like him and you knew he’d take care of you above anything else.

He took hold of himself, moving down a little so he could run his tip up and down your slit, coating his cock and hissing at the contact. Your grip on his shoulders stuttered when his tip bumped against your clit and you swear your whole body shuddered.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby? I’ll just hold still and you go at your own pace, we’ve got all the time you need.” You lifted up a little, his tip nudging at your entrance and as you sank down your lips fell open into a silent moan. Your eyes were shut but you could feel Steve watching you and you could feel his grip on your hips tightening as you moved painfully slow.

“Doin’ so good baby, so so good.” You preened under his praises, body relaxing as you opened up for him. You knew it would be a stretch, but it was good. The burn of him filling you up turning you on even more, if that was possible. Being this close, this full of him made you feel light headed in the best way possible.

It took a few minutes but now you were fully seated, your hips pressed together as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, trying to keep your composure. It was overwhelming in the best way, your body on overdrive as you tried to accommodate all of him.

He looked like he was overwhelmed too, little puffs of air coming out of his nose and his eyes screwed shut. He was still, not moving and for a minute you were worried but when you moved on him, his eyes flew open and his hands grasped your hips tight.

“Wait, wait wait, baby—fuck. You gotta…I gotta…just don’t move. Please. Gimme a sec you feel too good, fuck.” You nodded, giggling a little and when you did you heard him gasp. Both of you could feel everything and it was so much.

You sat still for what felt like hours but could have only been a minute or two before he looked at you, nodding slightly and you took that as your sign to start moving. Lifting up about halfway you dropped your hips back down, gasping at the sensation of him filling you up so well and the little curses slipping out of him only spurred you on.

“Oh my god, Stevie. You’re so—I’m so full. So full of you I just..fuck.” You tilted your hips forward when you dropped down this time, his hip brushing against a spot inside of you that you didn’t know existed but lit you on fire. It made you go faster, sliding down hard and a moan so loud you should be embarrassed came out when your clit caught on the little patch of hair he had near the base.

Steve seemed to be out of his mind, mumbling praises and curses under his breath. He couldn’t decide where to look, all the options too good to miss. He could look at your pretty face, all flushed and glowing from the sweat you’d worked up. He could look at your tits, so perfect and pretty and bouncing right in front of his face. Or he could look at where you connected. He could watch his cock disappear into you over and over again but that combined with how good you felt meant this would be over very soon. And he wanted, no needed, for this to last forever.

As if his cock filling you up didn’t feel good enough, add in his filthy fucking mouth and his thumb he had rubbing quick, tight circles on your swollen clit and you were a goner.

“Such a pretty girl. You really are my little bunny, huh, bouncing on my cock like you were made to do it. You were, weren’t you? Made for me, baby.”

“Feels so good, honey. Snug little cunt feels like heaven.”

“Gonna make me cum, you know that? Gonna cum with my girl on my cock.”

It hit you out of nowhere, maybe it was him comparing you to a fucking bunny or maybe it was him calling you his girl. You’re not sure. All you know is one minute you’re there and the next your toes are curling and your face is buried in the crook of his neck, mouth open against his throat as you cum so hard your ears are ringing and you can’t feel or think about anything but him him him.

Steve Steve Steve

“Fuckin’ shit, baby. M’gonna cum, gonna cum. Where do you want it, bunny? Huh? Please please please—shit.” You can’t even move your arms, let alone the rest of your body but you can feel how you’re still clenched around him and you can feel how both of your thighs are soaked.

All you can manage is to lean up just a tad, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, “In me, want it in me, please Stevie.” And then he had one hand in your hair, holding you to him while his hips lifted and then stilled, groaning something obscene into your ear and if you weren’t so exhausted and overwhelmed that alone would have made you cum again.

You laid there on top of Steve, his arms now around your waist as he pressed small kisses to your shoulder. Your legs felt like jelly and you really think you could pass out right here with him still inside of you.

“Y’alright, baby? Still with me?” The words were tired and mumbled against your hair, both of you still kind of out of it but it was so good, you still felt so good.

“M’okay, Stevie. Not to make your big head any bigger but Jesus Christ I think you just fucked me within an inch of my life.” He chuckled against you, teeth scraping over where your neck met your shoulder and you shivered. “Well I think technically you fucked me within an inch of my life, sweetheart.”

Pulling back just enough to get a look at him, his eyes were closed with a calm, relaxed look on his face. He must have felt you looking because one eye cracked open, a smile on his lips as he looked at you.

“What is it? Something on my face?”

You shook your head and pressed a quick peck to his lips, threading your fingers into his hair and burrowing back into the crook of his neck.

“No, I’m just happy, just love you.”

“I love you most, pretty girl.”

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #stranger things smut #bestfriend!steve harrington

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gay-dorito-dust · 8 months ago

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How’d they react to you wearing their clothes one day…

Dick lives for moments like these.

He loves just how domestic it makes everything feel.

He smiles widely upon seeing you wearing his clothes that you swore if he smiled anymore the he already was his face would split in two.

‘What’re you smiling about so early in the morning.’ You’d ask and Dick -acting as though this was something he had been waiting to be asked- stood up from the bed and walked over to you to rest his forehead against yours, all the while pulling you in close by the waist. ‘Why shouldn’t I be smiling when the first thing I see this morning is you wearing something of mine?’ He asks rhetorically. ‘If anything this should be the only appropriate way to wake up to in the morning.’

Dick wasn’t lying when he said this as he honestly hopes that he’d get to wake up to you wearing his clothes more often than not.

Seeing you dressed in his clothes made his heart swell the desire to see you clothed in only his shirts and sweats, he’ll even modify them to better suit you. The takeaway to all this was that seeing you in his clothes unlocked a part of his brain that made him feel boastful, proud even at the fact that it was his clothes that you were wearing and nobody else’s.

It made him feel a little cocky that you were willing to wear his clothes as a not so bold statement as to show that you were taken.

Dick would wholeheartedly do the same thing if you had any clothing that he could fit into and would claim a proportion of your clothes for himself. And if you were to ever confront him about it, he’ll only put his hands on his hips whilst proclaiming that both of yours and his clothes were now to be called ‘our clothes.’

Jaime loves, loves, loves it to an embarrassing amount.

Khaji-Da would make a snide comment on how his dopamine and serotonin levels were through the roof solely because you were finally, finally wearing his hoodie after many days of pestering on his end.

Khaki-Da: Jaime Reyes, you are currently experiencing an arousal-

Jaime: don’t. Don’t ruin this for me Khaji-Da, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this day.

Khaji-Da: …you’re hopeless Jaime Reyes.

Jaime would defiantly make an entire album dedicated to you wearing his hoodie, just so he had something to look back on such a special day fondly, and show off to his friends whilst bragging about how cute and hot you looked; much to his friends annoyance.

Jaime would gladly give up all his possessions just to see you in his clothes a lot more, so much so that it may become an issue later on with how obsessed he is with seeing you in his clothes. His clothes are now your clothes. End of discussion, he will not hear otherwise just take his clothes like you took his heart.

Khaji-Da calls him dramatic bc of this…

Jaime takes full offence to this claim because god forbid he hyped up his beloved and show his appreciation for how good you look in his clothes.

Bruce thinks that you’re trying to tell him something by doing so. He’s not been in relationships long enough to understand just how gratifying seeing his partner wearing something of his.

Are your clothes uncomfortable? The wrong size?

Is the material of the clothing making your skin crawl and itch? Irritating you to insanity?

However he will not ignore the warm feeling he gets within his chest up seeing you wear one of his shirts. It was as though seeing you wear something of his satisfied an itch he didn’t know he ever had, but he wouldn’t mind you wearing his clothes more often.

But still he was a little confused as to why you out of everything of his that you could’ve chose to wear, why was it that you always went for the ones that he was certain he had worn not even twenty minutes ago, more especially the over worn black shirt with the obvious signs of wear and tear.

He doesn’t mind getting you some better quality clothes but when you still continue to wear his clothes afterwards, he gradually starts to piece together why that maybe, and when he does come to the conclusion that it was in due to how his clothes made you feel closer to him when he’s away…

He internally melts and intentionally takes his shirt off in places in the manor where he knows you frequent, before then leaving the room and waits for you to take the bait like you always do, and feels himself swell just that little bit with pride and joy when he sees you as if he didn’t just orchestrate the whole thing. 💀

If you were to ever confront him about how fabricated it all seemed, he’ll deny it on all fronts and claim that he’s being a little messier than usual.

You don’t believe this for a second but don’t want him to stop putting random articles of clothing out for you to wear because it’s the cutest thing he’s ever done. And so a silent mutual agreement was reached between the two of you.

Jason has read a lot of romantic novels in preparation for this day.

He always wondered what it would be like to experience seeing the love of his life wearing his clothes specifically.

So upon seeing you wear his clothes made him feel things that he long thought himself incapable of feeling after coming back from the dead; He even becomes much more touchy-feely because of it!

He’s never seen a sight more beautiful than you standing in the kitchen wearing his red hoodie as you make him and yourself a drink.

Jason thought he died again and went to heaven this time. He has you to thank for that because nothing can ever top the heavenly image of you in his red hoodie, looking as though you’ve just woken up, but still looking ethereal and happy nonetheless.

All this makes his cuteness aggression towards you flare up as all he does for the entirely of the day is hold onto you tightly from behind, burring his head deep into your neck, as his hands find yours within the pouch of the hoodie and holds onto them.

‘You’re awfully affectionate this morning.’ You’d joke, loving the powerfull feeling of having this six foot something man practically clinging onto you.

‘You just look so fucking gorgeous in my hoodie and you expect me not to want to touch you?’ Jason replied, tightening his grip with no plans of letting go anytime soon, and you weren’t about to start complaining anytime soon.

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jar0fhoney · 3 months ago

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PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 (NSFW) / PART 4 /

PART FIVE (NSFW)

Warning: Mentions of Pregnancy and virginity. piv.

You started Sunday the same way you always did. Wake up before dawn, start breakfast for you and Ma, stare out the window and think about the list of chores you could never keep up with.

“It’s a beautiful morning!” Your mother shuffled past your open door towards the kitchen, “Are you sure I can’t just handle all the work in the field today? Won’t you want to relax before your friend arrives?”

“Mother, please do not blow this out of proportion.” You scolded her light-heartedly, “I’m just going to do my work as usual, and when he stops by I’ll take a break-”

“My baby is getting courted by a big strong orc~” She sang out to you. You followed her to the kitchen. “How did you know he’s courting me?”

“So he is courting you.” She swayed back and forth in front of the hearth, throwing bits of kindling onto the fire.

“Well- I-”

“Y/n, don’t you remember. When I told you about the family that lived in the neighboring plot. The wife told me so much about how strange orc courting was, especially with her being human, and-”

“You didn’t tell me it was a half-orc family…”

She turned to you with a devious smirk, “Wouldn’t you like to know about a half-orc family.” “MA!” You grabbed an apple from the table (a bright red one that matched the color of your face) and ran out the door. You weren’t really mad at her, but this entire situation was so out of your comfort zone. The only experience you ever really had with being pursued was desperately avoiding Milo for the past two years.

You glanced at the sundial in the garden. Three hours. You had three hours to try and get some work done in the field and shake off the nerves.

The tomatoes were a mess. No wonder, this was a corner of the field that had been sorely neglected this season. The sun was climbing higher, and the heat of its rays were beginning to lick the back of your neck. What time was it anyways?

“SO NICE TO MEET YOU- OH YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE!”

Your mothers voice was loud enough to carry all the way to your little corner in the tomato patch. You shot to your feet, craning your neck to see her enthusiastically fawning over a slightly nervous Khargaad. You could hear him nervously chuckling as the two exchanged words.

Well, might as well go save him. You looked down at your work clothes covered in grass stains and mud. Hair was sticking to the back of your sweaty neck. Gross. Probably didn’t smell pretty either.

Your mother caught you out of the corner of her eye and pointed excitedly, “THERE SHE IS!”

You cringed. Gods she was making all this fuss and you looked like you just crawled out of a ditch.

“Hello! I see you met Ma.” You were trying to casually wipe the mix of dirt and sweat from your face, wading over to them through the field. He felt his heart skip a bit when you got closer. You smelled so earthy. And the musk of your sweat was… it could drive him feral.

He started imagining all the ways he could steal you away and worship you. Fill you. Taste you.

“Um… Khargaad?”

He jolted out of his sinful haze, “I couldn’t show up empty handed.” He thrust a basket into your arms. It was laden with fancy imported fruits. “This- This is too much. This must have cost-”

“Hush now,” his voice was like warm honey, “I hunt big game, I can afford it.” He had a cocky little smirk on his face. You thanked him, motioning to follow you into the cottage.

He looked back at your mom one more time, “It was so nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

Your first lessons together went just as well as predicted. By the end he was properly frustrated, arms crossed and everything.

“The letters. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s all… mixed up.”

“Let’s just end it here for today.”

He was so cute like this. All flustered.

He stood up from his seat, being careful to crouch as he easily exceeded the height of the ceiling. “Alrighty, let’s get to work.” He crossed the room in one long stride, pulling his shirt over his head. He looked strong, but not in the way statues are with their lean bodies and taught chiseled muscles. He looked like a man who ate well and worked hard. Your eyes wandered to the slight love handles that peaked over the waistband of his trousers. Gods you were no better than a man, thinking about how bad you wanted to feel him in your hands.

He glanced behind his shoulder, “Where first?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Khargaad.”

“Do you think I’m going to just leave with all this work to be done?”

He followed you like an excited puppy to the tomato patch you had been working on. You had tried to tell him that he didn’t need to waste the rest of his day helping with this. But he knew he didn’t need to. He wanted to. And who was going to stop him? Certainly not you.

He started on one end, and you the other, working slowly until you met in the middle. By the end, your hands were red and scratched up from pulling the thistle weeds. Of course, Kharghaad’s were so calloused that it was like he had a pair of gloves on. He gave a little gasp when he saw your sore fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything…” He scooped your small hands into his, as delicate as you would pick up a fresh baby bird.

Every time he touched you it was like this great release. Your mother, as loving as she was, never quite developed a touchy-feely nature. You were so used to it fleeting as soon as it was there. Quick handshakes, brushing against someone in the market. You craved physical touch.

So when Khargaad didn’t let go of your hands. When he held them so carefully and tenderly. So deliberately. You found yourself trying to memorize every little second of the moment.

“I’ll have to buy you gloves.” He muttered, picking out the little needles with surprising dexterity. He took his canteen and went to rinse off the skin. “I can wash my own hands, Khargaad.” You chuckled.

“But I want to,” He blurted out with immediate embarrassment, “Sorry, I guess you could say it’s an orc thing? It’s sorta like… we’re very communal. There’s no reason to do much of anything alone, if you think about it…” He sort of trailed off like he was getting ahead of himself. He paused.

“I hope I'm not smothering you. Maybe humans aren’t like that-” He went to let go of your hands, and a part of you cried out inside. You were tired of trying to play this stoic lone wolf character. It wasn’t who you were. It’s not who any of us are. We all need each other.

“Please, don’t stop…” You whispered to him, thrusting your hands back into his. You uttered the magic words. The words he had been waiting for. He pulled you into his chest. It didn’t matter how gross, hot, and sweaty the two of you were. Or that your mother was most definitely watching joyfully from the kitchen window. Nothing mattered. “Can we go somewhere?” His voice was muffled as he whispered into the top of your head. He was taking long deep sighs, taking in your scent.

“Please…” The need in your voice was palpable. He didn’t waste another moment, leading you to the forest behind your property. “Khargaad… the road is that way.” You motioned behind yourself. “I know a quicker way.” He glanced back at you with that sweet little smirk on his face.

Once past the treeline, the soft light of dusk struggled to breach the overhead foliage. You walked together for some time, before the sound of running water bubbled ahead. He had led you to a little clearing, where in the middle stood a circular style tent. A creek babbled away off to the side. The moon was full and provided plenty of light for you to take it all in. “Do you live here?”

He nodded, looking down at you expectantly for approval. You grinned, “It’s lovely.”

He snaked a strong arm around your waste, pulling you in. His other hand cupped the back of your head, tilting your face up to his. For a moment he hovered over you, as if waiting for your permission. You reached up to cup his face, thumbing over one of the tusks jutting out of his mouth.

His lips met yours. It started slow, like sipping on a glass of fine wine. Then it was hungry. Like you had both been starved. You were getting drunk off of the needy little grunts he was making, pulling you in flush with his body. You could feel him through his trousers, and it startled you out of your stupor a bit. You hadn’t been with anyone before, and it was bound to happen sooner or later, but this was a bit more than you ever imagined.

It was almost like he sensed your tension, pulling away to look into your eyes, “Let’s get clean.” He had brought his thumb up to caress over your cheek, planting a small peck before jogging to his tent. Watching him disappear under the flap, your mind raced. What if you weren’t ready? What if he’s not patient?

He bounded out towards the stream, beckoning you over. He started to frown as you got closer, like he could smell the apprehension coming off of you, “Do you need to go slower? Do you want to go home? Nothing has to happen. Nothing at all. You are in charge.”

He started unlacing the ties of his trousers. You instinctually looked away, giving him privacy he clearly didn’t need. With the sound of water sloshing you looked back at him submerged up to his sternum. You approached the water’s edge, looking down into the little bubbles churning in the current. “Hey… what’s wrong?” He waded over to the edge, leaning onto the grassy bank. There wasn’t any aire of seduction in his voice, just one of genuine tenderness.

You sucked it up and opened your mouth, “I’ve never done this before…”

“With an orc?”

“No like… I’ve never done this before… ever.” You winced as the words came out. You were a grown adult, this conversation shouldn’t feel embarrassing. But it did nonetheless.

“And so you don’t want to do this?” He didn’t seem fazed at all by the information. “No!” You yelped out a little too enthusiastically, “No- I mean, yes. Yes I do want to. I want you.”

You started to pull at the ties of your shirt, face so flushed it was probably glowing red. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You ripped the shirt off your head like pulling off a bandaid, exposing your chest to the warm summer air. You went to fiddle with the strings of your work pants. He still didn’t look away, and you didn’t ask him to.

And there you were, clothed only in moonlight. Khargaad thought, maybe the moon had come out just for you tonight, to see your beauty for itself.

You stepped down into the water. “Are you sure you’re human? Not a beautiful fairy playing tricks on me?” Khargaad was completely entranced by you, eyes roaming over the curve of your shoulders to the curves of your breasts.

You felt some of the tension ease, snorting at him “I don’t think a fairy would smell this bad.” He gasped a bit as if he had just remembered, grabbing a bar of soap he had retrieved from the tent. “May I?” He asked, lathering up the bar in his hands.

You nodded, letting him wade closer to you. You felt the palms of his massive hands begin to work themselves into your hair, massaging his fingers into your scalp. “Oh-” You exclaimed a rather embarrassing moan, but it felt so good. He finished and went to clean his own hair. “Hey, it’s my turn now!” You scolded him. He was more than happy to let you clean him. As he said previously, it’s a part of orc culture to do things with other people. That includes bathing.

And oh how he loved to see you doing orc things. Like wearing that yellow dress dyed with orc spices, and making those pickled eggs for him. It made him think about how great it would be to bring you home with him, to meet all of his family. For you to find a place in his tribe. He missed home a lot, and now you were a part of that picture. You finished running your fingers through the curls of his clean hair.

He heard the sloshing of water, turning around to see you drying yourself off. He joined you. You cast a quick glimpse below his waist, blushing furiously at his partially hard cock.

You walked together to the flap of the tent. The inside surprised you. It was so… cozy. “Ah-” He had leaned down to nuzzle into your neck, you loved the feeling of his tusks against your skin. He pulled you to what could best be described as a nest. A nest of pillows and blankets. He very carefully leaned you onto your back, “Is this okay?”

You giggled at him, “Yes Khargaad. I will tell you if I need to stop, okay?”

“Promise?” He leaned back on his knees, his olive green skin looking lovely in the warm glow of the lantern lighting the tent. His member was on full display, completely unashamed. The way it twitched in anticipation made your stomach flutter. “Yes.”

He lied down next to you, peppering little kisses in the crook of your neck. His hands began to roam your body, starting with your shoulders and slowly moving down to your tits. His calloused palm grazed over the sensitive peaks, causing you to let out a breathy sigh. He took your left breast into his hand, thumbing over your hardened nipple. He palmed your chest for a few moments more, like he was savoring each and every new part of you he explored. You felt his cock hard against your leg. You shifted your thigh, giving him just the lightest sensation of friction. The groan he mumbled into your skin made you feel hot between your legs. You clenched your thighs together, trying to get some relief.

His hand traveled down to your stomach, caressing the curves and grabbing a soft handful of skin. “Good…” He whispered. You shivered as his hand glided over your hips, so close to your entrance. He reached for the inside of your thigh, pulling it over into his cock. He let out another breathy sigh that left you completely slick with desire. His hand hovered over the mess of hair covering your mound. You opened your legs, giving him permission.

He started by slowly palming you, just beginning to give you the attention your pussy was desperate for. You felt a finger slip past your folds, getting drenched in the slickness. Khargaad shifted you up a bit so he could have better access to your chest. He dipped down, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucked playfully. “Oh f-fuck-” You were stuttering at the pleasure of it all. He grinned into your chest, “Keep making those noises sweetheart.” The pet name made your heart flutter.

He kept gently probing a finger up and down your slit, until he dipped one down just at the beginning of your entrance. His fingers were bigger than your own, but this wasn't so much of a stretch. He slowly sheathed the finger in you, “Tight.” He grunted. He made a come hither motion into that sensitive spot of your inner walls. You yelped out a completely sinful moan as he prodded you a few more times. His finger exited your hole, pulling the wetness of your cunt onto your swollen and sensitive clit.

“Khargaad-” Your hips bucked up into him as he swirled long languid circles around that little bundle of nerves. He pulled off, and sat back on his knees, “Can I taste you?”

It was the way he asked more than anything. Like he was close to begging for it. You nodded, spreading your legs for him. He settled down in front of you, using both of his thumbs to spread your lips apart. You felt the tip of his fat tongue probe your needy pussy. He reached up to play with your nipples, while he moved up to your throbbing clit. He started with light kitten-licks, making you whine and buck up into his mouth. That wonderful tongue of his made swirls and then quick flickering motions over the sensitive spot. At this point you were almost completely lost in pleasure, and reached down to thread your fingers through his soft brown curls.

You were already sensitive when he started, so you were very close to finishing. You actually yelled when he inserted a finger into you. Prodding that sensitive spot while attacking your sensitive clit; it was making the most obscene wet noises. “Close.” That was all you could manage as he devoured you. There it was, feeling crushed over you like a ton of bricks. You coated this hand, legs spasming. He dipped down to lap up the remnants of your release. Your taste, your smell, the feeling of his hair clenched in your fist. He was addicted.

He leaned back, taking in his work. You had a hand on your forehead and a hand on your chest, calming down from what you just experienced. You glanced down at him, both hands on his thighs. His cock was completely erect, tip glistening with pre-cum. It was so heavy it bowed down under its own weight. “Y/n…” He was trying to figure out what to say next. His cock needed to be buried in your pretty little cunt. He needed to bottom out into you. He wanted to hear the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your skin with every thrust. But he couldn’t say that, though. He didn’t want to push you if you weren’t ready.

So when you propped yourself up on your elbows, legs spread for him, he almost felt like crying. His human mate was so strong. So ready for him.

He crawled over you, pinning your legs over his shoulders. He took the base of his cock into his fist, guiding it slowly over your folds. You were so warm for him. He pushed his pulsating tip past your lips, wincing from the sensitivity. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, but you were completely entranced watching his cock slide into you. His tip found your hole, sliding in but not going any further. He was absolutely strangeling the pillow he was resting his hand on, trying to maintain control. Khargaad was watching you, every little subtle expression. He kept sinking himself into you, stopping when you made the first wince of pain. He was big, and you were so tight.

“Y/n?” You looked up at him through those pretty lashes. He nearly lost it all right there, just from the eye-contact. You got off of your elbows, leaning down completely. You gave a little nod, still making direct eye contact. Slowly and gently, he worked his way in until his hips were flush with yours. He leaned back, still buried in you, letting you adjust to the stretch.

He wouldn’t last long at all, seeing you like this. Your little face with knotted brows, arms thrown overhead. Khargaad brought his hand to your stomach, rubbing little circles into the soft skin with his thumb. You were perfect. Perfect to take his seed. Perfect for growing a little half-orc.

He wouldn’t yet, of course. Not until you were ready. For you, he would wait as long as needed. But his strange orc hormones and instincts craved it beyond explanation.

He began rocking out and back into you, keeping a slow languid pace. You reached out for him, and in an instant his head was nuzzled in your neck again. His pace started to ramp up a bit, earning little mewls from your lips. Oh he definitely wouldn't last much longer. “W-where…” His breath hitched in your ear. “Huh?” You were too flustered to try to understand what he was asking.

“Going to-” He was hissing and groaning, barely able to work out a sentence, “On your body- ah- or o-on the bed?” His motions were getting jerky. “Fuck- sorry- oh fuck.”

He pulled out just barely in time to empty himself onto your stomach. He fucked his rough fist through the climax, sighing at the sight of his seed coating your tummy. It felt a lot warmer than you expected, and much more… volume. He finally let go of his cock, reaching for a linen cloth and dunking it in a bowl of water he had set nearby. “I made a mess…”

He sounded so guilty, and you giggled at him teasingly. One of his hands cupped your face, while the other softly wiped the length of your cunt, messy from your own slickness. He wiped the cum that was coated across your stomach, being careful not to spill any on the bed.

“You did so good.” He started cooing sweet nothings to you while running his thumbs across your cheekbone, “Wore me out…” He chuckled, throwing the rag across the room. He yawned and stretched his arms above him.

“Do you want me to go home now?” You were all too familiar with the stories women told about men finishing and ordering them to leave. You didn’t quite have the confidence yet, to advocate for yourself. To tell him you wanted to spend the night wrapped up in his arms.

For Khargaad, this question felt like an arrow to the heart. Had he not done enough? To make it clear how badly he needed you with him? He laid down next to you, pulling you close, “I would kill the person who would try to take you from me right now.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here is Part 5 for you lovelies <3 <3 <3 btw Khargaad is living in a yurt, that's what I was trying to describe lol.

I attached a playlist I put together. These are the songs I've been listening to while writing this, if anyone wants to hear the vibes :3

Tagged List <3

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123 @queenies1x1 @jellyslimesofficial @jasminedragoon @rangoismyname @the-queen-of-sorrows @the-dumber-scaramouche @heddaloddafun @swimmingrascalbatdragon @hellodollstuff @wingedghostpepper @pistachioinfernal @honeybaegle @sammehshark @dij-ology @forgemotherkestrel @wafflefries786

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matchibee · 1 year ago

Text

Wedding Ring

a misunderstanding between you and Miguel. I didn’t proofread but I did cry

Empty days and lonely nights. From sunrise to sunset your every waking moment felt as though it was spent on your lonesome, only your darling daughter there to fill the void running rampant in your heart. A cavernous void not even the love of a child could fill.

Not when Miguel was the one that carved the path, yanked the love from within your chest and took it with him wherever his whim took him.

“I’m head of the Spider Society,” He’d told you a million times before, words he’d utter a million more. “They depend on me. I can’t abandon them because you’re…” Miguel bit his lip, ceasing himself from continuing his words, knowing he was in the wrong.

The two of you had confined yourselves to your bedroom, Gabriella seated happily upon her plush comforter, some sparkly movie gathering her entire attention.

This was the first time you’d seen Miguel in days, perhaps weeks. The only time you heard his voice or felt his touch was in the midst of slumber, his shadow slipping into bed beside you only to depart before the sun rose again.

An awful cycle, one that was taking its toll, you could feel it.

“I just miss you, that’s all.” You took a seat on the bed,

“And I miss you more,” Miguel spoke, his hand encapsulating your shoulder, a whisper of what you craved. “But I have responsibilities away from you, that don’t concern you. Everything I do is to keep the both of you safe.”

And you knew he was right, of course he was. Miguel wasn’t himself if he wasn’t protecting, providing. That was his personality, his calling. But you’d be damned if you didn’t admit you’d thought of the ways he lacked in his recent performance. “Everything concerns me,” Your words were firm, you refused to stand down, even if the situation had yet to escalate. “We are married, we are a team. Everything that happens to you concerns me because I need you to come home. I need you to be here and show that little girl you love her.”

Miguel groaned, a frustrated noise that stemmed from your lack of understanding, of compassion he wanted you to extend. “I’m doing my best.”

“Your best isn’t good enough, Miguel!”

The room fell silent, your eyes wide as Miguel shifted to his feet, clicking at a few buttons on his watch. “I have a mission I need to get to. I’ll try to be back tonight but… No promises.”

“Don’t do this,” You felt tears in your eyes, the burn erupting from your soul. “Get someone else to go.”

“I can’t do that.”

Tears slipped from your eyes, but you turned on your heel to keep Miguel from seeing, from questioning. With a nod of your head, hands enveloping your own frame, you urged him to go — to leave before you begged him to stay just this once, even if you knew the words would fall on deaf ears.

Miguel slipped through the window, and from the corner of your eye you watched, regretted your words.

Neaten, bloodied and bruised, Miguel slipped back through the window of your apartment. He’d left to tend to countless anomalies, variants persisting where they didn’t belong. And if you knew the truth about Miguel, you’d know he was just like them, inserting himself in a life where your Miguel was lost.

But he couldn’t leave you to suffer, couldn’t leave you to this life of misery. And what started out as a desperate yearning to be a father once more spiraled into something out of proportion. He’d established himself, invested his entirety into this universe. He’s be damned if he let it slip through his fingers.

But then he saw you nowhere to be found, your side of the bed empty, sheets still slick as though they’d never been touched.

Miguel sighed, figuring it was likely you’d confined yourself to the living room, needing a moment away from a place where words were the ultimate misdeed.

In the midst of his exhaustion Miguel slipped into the restroom, the luminescence burning his eyes, washing away dirt and grime that scattered across his body, sweat that clung to his skin as though in longing. He emerged feeling as though he were a new man, refreshed. Miguel was ready to confront you, to communicate the words that had sat upon the tip of his tongue all day.

‘I’m sorry.��

Miguel was sorry, unapologetically remorseful that he’d made you feel the way you felt, the way he seemed to push your needs aside for the greater good. But it could all be damned. Miguel would move the heavens and the earth to make you happy.

The very heavens that gifted your eyes the stars so that he could gaze into them, and the very lands that breathed life beneath your skin so that his hands might have something to hold. Sometimes, he felt the universe taunted him with your very existence, there but not his, an embodiment of perfection someone as flawed as him did not deserve.

The light of the restroom illuminated your bedroom, and there upon the nightstand Miguel felt his being shatter.

A ring. Your ring. The very ring he’d slipped upon your finger in the midst of heartfelt vows, an audience of yourselves, an oath whispered between you. The very ring he’d clenched in his pocket every time you smiled, the carefully crafted band that gave him the confidence to drop down onto his knee upon seeing you drifting off to sleep with his daughter — now your daughter — in your arms.

Miguel fell to his knees once more, this time not with adoration but with regret, clutching the band between his fingers as though they might drift away, taking every reminder of you with it.

Miguel scoured your share closet, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he noticed a few of your belongings had gone missing — shoes, shirts, accessories — things he’d bought you and items you’d arrived with seeming to scatter in their frequency. Hangers devoid of purpose, rocking back and forth as though taunting him.

But then his mind drifted once more, thinking to your daughter, the very thing that’d kept the both of you together when life seemed to suggest otherwise.

You wouldn’t leave without her.

The very thought had bile creeping up Miguel’s throat, legs without stability as he crept down the hall. The door to Gabri’s room was ajar, lights dimmed to nothing, not a sound picked up by his enhanced senses.

It took more courage to open the door than it had to battle everything he’d faced as Spider-Man.

But when he did, your arms wrapped tightly around Gabriella, all rationality seemed to return to him.

Miguel dropped to his knees at Gabriella’s bedside, pushing back stray wisps of hair, taking in her appearance. Mismatched clothes, articles of clothing he recognized as yours, a tiara crushed into the pillow her head had fallen upon.

“Miguel?” Your voice was a groggy whisper, yawning into your hand coated with marker stains.

He didn’t know what to say, just glad to see you, to hear your voice and know you were still there. “You’re here.” His voice cracked, clearing his throat, gathering himself as he watched Gabriella stir in her slumber.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” You inquired, standing to your feet, kicking off mismatched shoes and ridding your wrists of scattered bracelets.

“I thought— I saw—“ Miguel held out your wedding band, the jewel glimmering in the moonlight. Slowly, without making a sound, you dropped to your knees beside Miguel, plucking the ring from between his fingertips and returning it to where it rightfully belonged.

“I took it off while I was washing dishes and had Gabriella put it away for me. I guess I forgot to put it back on.”

Miguel wiped tears from his eyes, your hand resting against his cheek. “And… Your clothes?”

This left you laughing, trailing your fingertips against his skin, doing your best to ignore the droplets of liquid that slipped from his eyes. “We had a little fashion show. I brought some of our clothes to use.”

Miguel furrowed his brows “Our?”

“Miguel O’Hara, I’ll be damned if our daughter gets marker stains on just my clothes. If I go down, you’re going down with me.”

Then his lips quirked into a smile. “Our.” Repeating the word, loving the way it fell from your lips, a reminder of your union.

“Speaking of which,” You held up one of Miguel’s collared work shirts, multicolored lipstick stains pressed into the collar. “Gabri said she saw some trend for this on YouTube — it’s cute, but didn’t we put parental controls on the TV?”

His eyes widened, mouth agape. “She must’ve seen the password. I’ll change it in the morning, Amor.”

You hummed, satisfied. Miguel inquiring which color was which, though in the moonlight it was obvious. Miguel could recognize your features blindfolded.

“Gabri insisted mine were red, and she chose a sparkly purple you bought her.”

Miguel looked away, knowing he was gonna hear it. “She liked it, you can’t blame me.”

“I’m blaming you for not getting me one! It smells like grapes, Miguel. Grapes!”

Miguel pulled you into his lap, chin resting upon the top of your head, sighing a content sigh. He could stay right here for eternity, his arms around you as you lulled to sleep in his chest. “Te quiero con todo mi corazón.”

You peppered kisses along his neck, whispering words of adoration, of longing. You missed this, missed him. “I’m so sorry for what I said, Miguel. It wasn’t right.”

Miguel shook his head. “I understand where you came from. I should be here more, I want to be here more.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, tilting your chin to place one on your lips.

“You guys need to learn how to whisper,” Gabriella called out into the darkness. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

#miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o hara

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sissylittlefeather · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 6: Pussy Worship

First Taste

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, cussing, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~1k

Kinktober Masterlist

Elvis has been with girls. He's been with quite a few girls by now. It's 1959 and he's no stranger to naked women. But when he finds you at the Moulin Rouge and goes back to your apartment, he's in awe.

You have the most beautiful pussy he's ever seen.

Everything is in proportion and the right shape and color. It looks like it was crafted perfectly for him. He looks up at you from where he's on his knees between your thighs on the bed with his eyes wide. You're a beautiful girl, there's no doubt about it, but he's been with beautiful girls before. This is something else entirely.

"Is there something wrong?" You ask demurely, your French accent making the words sound sexier.

"No, no honey. Nothing wrong at all. It's just..."

"Quoi?" He stares at you blankly so you translate. "What?"

"Nothing... just..."

"Tell me, Elvis." You bat your eyelashes and his heart flutters. He's just going to have to tell you.

"Honey, you have the prettiest little pussy I've ever seen in my life." You giggle and try to wave him off. "I'm not kiddin', baby this is amazing."

He slowly spreads your legs open further and looks down at you again. Yep. Still perfect. He runs his finger up your slit and finds just the right amount of wetness. You moan softly with the sensation and wiggle your hips, begging him to touch you more. Suddenly, he has the strangest inclination to taste you. He knows that's a thing that people do, but he's never done it before. Quite frankly, he thought the idea of it was disgusting, but now he's here looking at you and his curiosity gets the better of him. He gently licks the end of his finger that was wet with your arousal.

The taste is sweet and earthy, almost like the way a flower smells, and is not what he expects at all. It actually tastes good. He wets his finger again and puts it in his mouth, but it's not enough. He wants to taste more of you. Without another thought, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your clit. The smell of you is intoxicating and he barely notices that you arch your back and whimper. He carefully pokes his tongue out and runs it up your slit. Moving back down, he pushes the tip of his tongue inside you. The experience is almost overwhelming so he pulls back. Luckily, your clit is just there, so easy to see, so he puts his mouth around it and swirls his tongue over it. You grab the top of his hair and grind into his face and it's like he can't get enough. He licks and sucks and moves his tongue in and out of you like a man possessed.

Finally, he realizes you're writhing and moaning in pleasure as he eats you. This just heightens his experience and he ruts his hips into the bed to try to get some friction on his aching cock. He never dreamed doing this would turn him on so much, but now he never wants to stop.

"Fuck, Elvis!" You cry out as your orgasm slams into you and he feels your pussy pulse and throb as he continues to lap at you. He's not ready to stop, but you're so sensitive, you tap on the top of his head. He backs away for a bit, nose and mouth and chin glistening, and looks up at you. You whine. "It's too much."

"No, please, baby don't make me stop. You taste so good. You're so pretty. Please, baby." You couldn't say no to his round blue eyes if you wanted to, so you nod and he smiles, diving back into licking you. Your eyes roll back as he moves his tongue on you furiously. Now that he's tasted your climax, he wants to make you do it over and over again.

And he does. After a stunning four orgasms, he finally rolls onto his back, exhausted and sweating. He can barely talk, his tongue is so worn out. His dick stands up, still hard and throbbing with need, precum leaking from the tip. He almost came a couple of times just from the excitement of licking you and grinding against the bed, but he didn't.

You look over and realize how hard he is. You're spent from the orgasms, but you want to repay him for what he just did for you, so you sit up and drag yourself over to straddle his hips. He watches you, mesmerized, as you line his cock up with your entrance and slowly start to sink down onto him.

"Fucking shit..." He hisses as your pussy takes him in, squeezing him just right. Once you've got him fully inside you, you whimper and start to move on him. His eyes roll back and he bites his bottom lip. He's never felt such exquisite pleasure before. "Goddamn, baby, your pussy..."

It's all he can get out before he quickly lifts you off of him just in time as he cums and his release spurts out of him all over your pretty pussy. You collapse on the bed next to him and lay there for a while.

Eventually he gets up and goes to the bathroom to get a towel to clean you up. As he does, he can't help but admire you yet again. When you realize he's staring and touching you more than necessary, you sit up on your elbows.

"Is it really so different?" Your voice breaks his trance and he looks up at you.

"Huh?"

"My pussy. Is it so different from what you are used to?" He smirks.

"Honey, I have half a mind to marry you for it. I've never experienced anything like it."

"Would you like to stay and have it again in the morning?" He looks at you eagerly.

"You serious?"

"I do not joke about sex. And besides, I love the way you look at me. I need more of it." You smile and pat the mattress next to you. He climbs back into the bed and lets you snuggle into his chest.

Elvis spends the rest of his life searching for another pussy like yours. He has plenty of good ones along the way, but none measure up to you and the beautiful secret between your legs at the Moulin Rouge.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @peaceloveelvis @theelvisprincess @your-nanas-house @makethemorning @mrspresley69

Anyone else want a Kinktober tag everyday?

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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mysicklove-main · 2 years ago

Text

“You’re staring again,” The low voice accuses from underneath the car. You watch his hand pat the concrete, searching for his toolbox, before quickly grabbing the wrench. His hands are black with dirt and oil, probably calloused from the heavy work.

“Am I not allowed to?” You hum, sitting on your garage cabinet while sipping on some water.

You watch Eijiro put a screwdriver in his mouth, now using both hands to tighten a bolt. Sweat drips down his temples and onto the floor beneath him. You sigh at the sight.

“It’s distracting” He mumbles around the tool, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

Kirishimas sanctuary was his garage. He spent a good proportion of the house budget on simply making this area perfect for him. It has everything a guy like him needs, and tons of room for him to work on his hobby. Fixing cars.

Your hobby conveniently lines up perfectly with his. Watching hot men do manual labor, specifically watching your lover fix cars. So you also spend a great amount of time here.

He was currently under one, but the older truck is being suspended into the air (to your request) so you get a perfect view of him underneath the car dealing with all the technical stuff you cannot understand. You sit there and watch, not giving a damn about the broken car.

He lets out a groan as he tries to secure a pipe into place. You watch his biceps contract and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“You know, it's got to be hot under there. Don't you think you'll be more comfortable if you take off your shirt?” You tease, crossing your legs with a grin on your face.

Though, the black wife beater he was wearing was already making you swoon. And the way it was stuck to his skin? You had to be in heaven.

He glances back at you, taking the screwdriver out of his mouth, before using his arm to wipe some sweat off his face. Black streaks coat his cheeks. “You are looking at me like you are a starved animal,” He laughs, before using his moveable stool to kick back away from under the car toward where you're sitting.

He climbs off the stool, and over to you, while you swing your legs out lazily. He places his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you in his hold. You meet his stare, the corner of your mouth picking up in a smile. He is grinning at you, eyes tired from the work, but still pinning you in place.

“Thirsty?” You hum, holding up your cup to his mouth.

His eyes flicker toward the glass and he nods. You tilt the glass upward, watching the way his throat moves as he swallows it down.

When he looks back at you as to say, enough you just continue pouring. The water drips down his face and onto his shirt. He pulls away with a small cough.

Your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. His shirt clinging now completely to his skin, his body glistening from sweat and now the water. This right here is why this is your favorite hobby.

“Really?” He sighs with a small grin, looking down at the black tank top.

You pout dramatically. “Aw, guess you gotta take your shirt off,” You tease, running your fingers up his shirt toward his neck.

He chuckles low, before blinking slowly at you, leaning forward, and brushing his lips against yours. “Mmm? Can you take it off for me?”

You grin, fingers running up his arm. “Gladly.”

The day ends up like it usually does. With both of you covered in sweat, dirt, and car oil, but you didn’t mind, this is exactly why this is your favorite hobby.

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igotanidea · 5 months ago

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Mysterious box: Jason Todd x reader

Warning: a little innuendo, but generally it's supposed to be funny, cause it's hot outside and I'm suffocating.

***

She was sitting in her work, praying for the hours to pass quicker.

Honestly the day was closer to hell than anything else.

Chair was uncomfortable pressing into her back.

Hair was sticky due to the excessive heat and lack of air conditioning.

Y/N could almost feel the beads of sweat running down her back, sinking into the crack.

Disgusting!

And yet, the boss didn't seem to care, sitting in his state-of-art office equipped with all the technology to keep him untouched by the weather and separated from the hoi polloi that his employees were.

Prick!

As if she (and the whole office to put it bluntly) didn't know that what the boss was doing behind those tightly closed doors had little if anything to do with working.

Rather making personal calls and chatting on facebook while his peons worked their asses off.

Y/n's annoyance started increasing in direct proportion to the heat outside (and inside). Finally, losing the last remnants of self-control and dignity and missing the fact that she needed this job, the girl raised from her chair, ready to march into her supervisor bubble and shove some things up his face even if that meant getting sacked or-

"Miss Y/N Y/L/N?"

She spun around at the sound of her name, reacting instinctively.

"Yeah, that's me."

"I got a package for you." the man that suddenly became much more real to Y/N's haze brain and slowly turned into a deliveryman put an acknowledgement of receipt under her nose. "Can you sign this?"

"But - I didn't order anything-'' she frowned, over analyzing whether this was some sort of scam.

"It's already paid for."

"By who?" the frown grew more stern at those words.

"I don't know, maybe you have a secret admirer?"

"I'm taken-"

"Look. Miss. honestly. I don;t care." the guy finally started to get irritated. "This has your name on it. And the price is settled. So could you please try to not make my job harder and sign it? Please?"

"Oh." She blushed a little, realising that she was behaving like a proverbial Karen. "Yeah, sure, of course, I'm sorry." With quick motion her signature ended on the paper.

"Thank you." He seemed to be relieved at her change of attitude and quickly rushed out the door, muttering something about whiny girls.

And now she was stuck in the middle of the office open space, with the biggest package ever, wrapped in red paper with an elegant leather ribbon adorning it.

Having all her colleagues' eyes on it.

Right. Cause nothing livens up a shitty day like putting the attention onto someone else.

"What is it?"

"Who is it from?"

"Can we see what's inside?"

"Come on Y/N, unwrap it here!"

The voices started attacking her from every direction, but she knew better than to react or - god forbid - subdue.

Using the moment of commotion as her coworkers began to close in on her like zombies starved for entertainment, she quickly grabbed the box. Diving between the stretched arms and the thicket of legs, Y/N miraculously managed to reach the bathroom, locking the door behind her, finally getting a moment of peace to inspect the gift.

***

Jason sent her the set of 10 Dior body care products...

Which must have cost a fortune. And as she started to unwrap all those little vials and boxes, her eyes bore into a note.

Princess,

Last night, when we were "busy" I noticed your skin being a little dry. Hopefully, this little set of things will remedy that problem. Use it tonight. I'll be sure to drop by your place around midnight.

Shit.

She felt her hands shake a little at the innuendo, but that was not everything.

And don't you worry about the price, sunshine. No money in the world can compare with the way you feel wrapped around me and the way you're skin brush against mine. Want you all soft and wet tonight... I got so many ideas of how to make sure those products won't go to waste...

Oh...

She was so right to get inside that bathroom.

Because the stain on her panties had absolutely nothing to do with the weather and temperature.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n

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viennakarma · 1 year ago

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New Year, New Us

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After you and Max broke up, you've never been on the same place at the same time again. That is, until the New Year's Eve party.

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: Smut, female reader, +18, sex (p in v), unprotected sex, ex!reader, a little possessive reader, spanking, cursing (but in a cool way), a bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Note: not me looking for a GIF that he's not wearing the team kit (there is none). This has been on my docs for a little while. English is not my first language (so please bear any mistake). If you’re my best friend, sophia, look away :)

Find me on Twitter!

“Are you sure he won’t be there?”, you text Alex, your best friend.

While waiting for her answer, you look at yourself in the mirror, checking your makeup, basic due to lack of time, but beautiful nonetheless and the red lipstick gives the whole look a boost. On your body, you wear a set of a mini skirt, and a kind of strapless corset that holds your breasts firmly, giving your look an extra spice. When you went shopping with Alex the day before, she had confirmed that it suited the casual New Year's Eve party the group of friends throws every year.

“Charles confirmed that Max is not in town.” is the response you get from Alex as you wait for the Uber.

It would be really embarrassing if Max was there, because he's the ex you don't want to see under any circumstances. Your separation was difficult, and it almost caused a split in the entire group of friends. Luckily, Max went away for the Formula 1 season, and it wasn't necessary for his friends to choose a side, as he was the one who physically distanced himself from everyone.

Despite everything, he still meets up with friends from the group the few times he's in Monaco in between races, and these outings are the ones you refrain from going to so as not to cross paths with him.

Even though your relationship has collapsed like a house of cards, you and him do your best not to take anything out on your group of friends, you don't talk bad about each other nor impose any “either him or me” choices.

As soon as you arrive at the party, you realize that the “New Year's Eve party with friends” has probably taken on greater proportions. That's what happens when the majority of the group is made up of famous extroverts who make friends so easily. Charles had guaranteed that there would be 30 people at most, but when you enter his apartment, it seems to be at least triple that number.

You look for Alex and your closest group and find them near the small bar, getting drinks. Alex waves as soon as she sees you walking towards them.

She hands you a martini as soon as you catch up to her. Alex hugs you, complimenting your makeup, and you turn to Charles, hugging him, as well as all your other friends. You all toasted together, laughing.

Alex pulls you onto the dance floor, and you both laugh as a Rihanna song comes on. Both of you dance for several minutes until you feel a bit of sweat form on your forehead.

“Shit,” Alex murmurs, immediately stopping dancing. She looks over your shoulder at something behind you.

As soon as you look back, you see Max entering the party carrying a big box of some alcoholic beverage. It's impossible to go unnoticed when he's one of the most famous there. You watch as he smiles when he sees Charles in the crowd, as soon as the two meet, they exchange a friendly hug.

“Sorry, babe. Charles had indeed confirmed that he would not arrive from his trip in time for the party,” Alex justifies herself, but you keep looking in Max's direction. He's talking to Charles when, suddenly, he turns and looks in his direction. His blue eyes bore into yours and you swallow hard. You calculate an escape route for a few seconds, but he looks away and goes back to chatting calmly with Charles.

Alex pulls you away, but you keep looking in Max's direction until she shoves you into another room, which you recognize as the kitchen.

“We can leave if you want, we can find a nightclub or something,” Alex says, capturing your attention again.

“Alex, I'm not going to keep you away from your boyfriend on New Year's Eve just because I can't stand my ex,” You shake your head no. “Besides, if he's so comfortable, I'm not the one who's going to act like I’m not over him.”

“Oh, wow! Girl power, damn it!” Alex yells, opening a cooler on the counter. She pulls out two beers and hands one to you. With a bite of the cap, you quickly open it and after toasting your bottles, you take a giant sip that refreshes you from the heat and makes you more determined.

“That's more like it, now let's get back to the dance floor!” You confirm, with a nod after downing the entire bottle at once. Alex does the same and grabs two more bottles for you and her.

Together, you both return to the dance floor, you and Alex dancing and jumping, screaming the songs at the top of your lungs, as if there was no one else around. When Beyoncé's 6 Inch starts, you two start to dance sensually and sing along. With the song halfway through, you open your eyes feeling other people watching you and notice that they have opened a small circle around the two of you.

The attention only seems to make both Alex and you even more excited. Unintentionally, your eyes meet Max's, and you notice that he, Charles, and practically the rest of the party have their eyes on both of you. You grab Alex's shoulders and pull her close until one of your legs is between hers and one of hers is between yours, her hand goes to your waist, and she smiles as she guides her hips into yours and you both roll your hips.

“I know what you're doing…” Alex whispers in your ear. “He's going to regret ever breaking up with you!” She adds in a conspiratorial tone that makes you laugh

You mumble the lyrics to her and Alex pulls your hand, making you spin so that you stop with your back on her chest, placing you facing Max. You don't find any trace of shame in yourself, maybe whether it's the alcohol and the music, or maybe it's all these people staring at you and Alex with so much lust.

You look into Max's eyes as you dance with Alex's hand running down the side of your hip. His eyes are focused on you as he holds a cup of some drink. At some point, his hand exerts so much force on the cup that the plastic bends, spilling a bunch of drink onto his shirt.

You can't help but laugh when he looks down and mutters a swear word. He turns around and leaves. You continue dancing with Alex for a few more minutes until your feet feel sore and you’re very thirsty. When you sit at your friends' table, Charles serves you fresh cold juice. Max appears soon after, now with his shirt changed.

He sits at the same table as you, of course, because he is part of the group. Max sits on the opposite side of it, facing you. You look away from him when you realize your friends are talking and you decide to join the conversation.

“What happened?” Alex asks when she sees you readjusting the threads on your heels for the third time.

“My heels are killing me” you explain.

“I can lend you a pair of shoes. Do you want it?” Alex offers and you nod, “My stuff is in the guest suite on the first floor, where Charles always keeps our bags. You can take it if you want.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You get up, crossing the crowd of people drinking, dancing and talking, to get to the stairs. As soon as you go up and reach the first floor, you take off your shoes and walk barefoot to the guest room, feeling relief in the bottom of your feet.

You find Alex’s bag on a dresser, and you rummage through it until you find a pair of white Jordans. You go into the bathroom and wash your face carefully so as not to mess up your makeup, and wet your neck to relieve the heat. After drying off, you go back to the dresser and you’re about to put on the shoes when the door opens and someone turns on the light.

You look up to see Max coming towards you with decisive steps, looking like a man on a mission.

“What are you doing here?” you murmur when he stops in front of you and his height forces you to lift your head to look into his eyes.

“You know what you do to me,” He whispers, his hand touches your face firmly, his hand holding your jaw and part of your neck “You know what I want.”

As soon as he says that, your body betrays you and you feel a wave of goosebumps running up your arms. Still, even with the clear expression of desire on Max's face, he doesn't move forward, just waits for your reaction.

You would be lying if you didn't admit to yourself that you miss him. Almost everyday, you miss the domesticity of your relationship, you miss his eyes looking for yours across any room or being the first thing you see as you wake up, you miss his touch both when it’s rough or when it’s exploratory like he wanted his fingertips to memorize you, his nimble hands and his cock stretching you.

You stand on your tiptoes to close the distance, and it's still not enough to reach him, so you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him down until your lips meet. He kisses you tentatively for a few seconds, and then his arm wraps around your waist and he lifts you off the ground, pressing you against his body while opening his lips to yours to deepen the kiss. When his tongue meets yours, you let out a moan that he captures with his mouth.

Your fingers move up from his shoulder to the back of his neck and you pull his hair hard, thinking it should always be like this. That you both belong in each other's arms.

Then you remember he was the one who ended it. He was the one who dumped you right after going on the new season of Formula 1. Probably to be free to fuck some groupie or something.

You move until he puts you back on the ground, and as soon as you find your balance, you push him so hard that he stumbles back two steps, surprised by your sudden refusal.

The both of you are panting as you sit on the edge of the bed, running your hands through your hair as you try to find your sanity again.

“You did this to us” you manage to say through heavy breathing, “You broke up with me to go on new adventures, and you still have the audacity to talk about me as if I had broken your heart”

“Love…” He starts, the pet name probably a slip out of habit, but that makes you even more furious.

“Don’t fucking ‘love’ me!” you point an accusatory finger in his direction.

Max stands like a statue, panting and his lips are red and a little stained with your lipstick, and his chest is rising and falling. You stare at him not knowing what to do now. Then you look at his face, his eyes closed as if he was trying hard to think, his hair even more messy because of your hands seconds ago. Max takes a deep breath, then he takes a step towards you, and kneels right in front of you.

“I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I should never have done that, I love you and I miss you every fucking day,” He looks up at you, his blue eyes shining in surrender, in a way that leaves you weak. “I'll do anything to win you back,” He says, placing both hands gently on your knees. Max looks at you intently as he gently runs his hand down your leg, until he closes his hand around your ankle. He slowly lifts your leg, as if expecting a negative reaction, and then leaves a kiss on your calf without taking his eyes off you. “Please- I- let me win you back- I’ll do anything you want- Let me be good to you…”

The sigh that leaves your lips is almost involuntary when he kisses a little higher on your calf, and then another one above your knee, followed by a soft bite. You almost let yourself get carried away by the effect of his mouth on you, but then you remember to regain control of the situation.

“With how many people did you have sex with after me?” you ask, and he immediately stops moving to look at you.

“None.” He answers, and you bend forward to hold the back of his neck and you pull his hair hard until he lifts his head with a groan.

“Don't lie to me, it's been eight months, Max. Are you going to tell me you haven’t had sex with anyone?” you ask through gritted teeth, without letting go of his hair. He stares at you firmly when he answers again.

“No one.”

“You swear?” you ask, finally loosening your grip on his hair.

“I swear,” He kisses and nibbles your legs again, as if he doesn't want to leave any part of you untasted. “I- I just- fucked my hand thinking about you.” He whispers against your thigh and you almost don't hear him, he says it so quietly.

He continues moving up, and you gasp as he kisses the space at your waist between the base of your corset and the waistband of your skirt. Each touch seems to send a jolt of pleasure straight into your core, and you do your best not to give in too quickly. You hold Max's face and make him look at you again.

“You have half an hour. Better fuck me hard” you command, and he swallows hard, nodding his head.

You finally let yourself fall back onto the bed as he kisses your body again. He tries to lift the corset, but the fabric is too tight. Then Max pulls the corset down in one motion, just enough to release your breasts from above. As soon as your tits spill out, Max grabs them like he's starving.

You can no longer contain your moans when his hands hold your hips, trying to reach under your skirt and his mouth alternates between licking from the base of your breasts to the tip of your nipples, and taking in as much as he can put in his mouth to suck at once. And you know with how hard he's doing it, you're going to have hickey marks all over tomorrow.

“How does this come out?” He asks, looking like he’s having difficulties with the corset.

“From behind.”

Max leaves your breasts to kiss your neck for a moment and you feel one of his hands reaching between your back and the mattress to try to open it. With an irritated growl, he palms your back. You squeal when, with a quick movement, he pulls your back, rolling you around and turning you face down on the bed. He makes a sound of approval when he finally undoes the corset, takes it off you, and tosses it away. He pulls the zipper on the back of your skirt, but it catches halfway, so he pulls hard and you hear the ripping sound until you feel the fabric loosen on your skin. With a sound of disapproval, you're about to curse Max’s entire lineage, when he cuts you off:

“I'll buy you another one. I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He gasps and soon you feel his hands touching your back and going down until they palm each side of your ass. He squeezes hard and you groan against the mattress, probably making a mess on the bedsheets with your lipstick. “I missed this,” He says, and then he gives your ass a slap that leaves you weak, then another slap on the other side, which makes your pussy throb. He gently massages where he hit on your asscheeks.

“Are you going to stand there admiring or are you going to ‘win me back’?” you say in a sarcastic voice when you look over your shoulder and Max is kneeling between your legs, staring at your ass like it's the Eighth Wonder of the Modern World.

“You're very bossy, you know that?” He says with a soft smile. He pulls your panties down to your knees.

“And you are complaining too much for someone who is on probation,” you keep looking over your shoulder and see how he takes his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, sucking on them to moisten.

“Probation, eh?” He says, getting closer to you.

“Yeah, or do you think you can get back this easily into my life?” You scoff.

You stop looking when his hand disappears between your legs, and you feel his touch gently on your pussy. You grip the sheet expectantly, as he presses your clit and you moan against the sheets again. When his fingers penetrate you, you start to move your hips, following the friction of his long fingers.

Max knows your body like no one else, the bastard, and you feel embarrassingly close to orgasm in just a few minutes of stimulation. You hear the indecent noise of how wet your pussy makes his fingers every time he moves them in and out, massaging your G-spot with infuriating precision. When your pussy clenches against his fingers, you try to do something, anything, to delay the orgasm.

Without stopping his movements, Max bends over you, kissing the back of your neck, then he approaches your ear and whispers:

“I’ve got you, pretty baby”

You want to curse him for the power of this pet name in your ear but your mind simply explodes into a thousand fireworks when you finally come, still leaning over feeling Max's lips on the back of your neck. He keeps his fingers in you for a few seconds as you try to recover from the orgasm.

When Max moves away and you feel his weight leave the bed, you roll over so your back is to the mattress so you can see him. He gets rid of his clothes very quickly, and your mouth is practically watering seeing him completely naked.

“Are you sure?” Max asks, fisting his member before going back to bed.

“So sure, baby” you say, with one finger raised, you make a “come here” gesture. He starts to climb onto the bed, “And as I’m feeling merciful today, I will ride you just the way you love” As soon as Max is hovering over you, you push him until he falls back onto the bed, rolling over him and getting on top.

Moving your hair out of the way, you crawl down until you’re between his legs, holding the base of his perfect cock. You lick him from bottom to top, from his balls to his cockhead and his hips jerk with the contact.

“Love, please” He interrupts you, grabbing your face and pulling you on top of him. “If you blow me, I'll cross the finish line too soon.”

“Now, this is the first time this is a problem for you,” you tease him, letting a bead of saliva drop onto his cock which makes his little giggle turn into a groan.

“Baby, please, I need to be buried into you”

With a laugh, you do as he asks, and sit on his lap, pressing his length between the two of us and sliding your pussy over him, your wetness indecent.

“You're trying to kill me, woman,” He says in a tense voice. You watch the head of his cock disappear between your lower lips as you grind against him and more groans leave his throat.

You lift your hips enough to hold his cock and position it at your entrance. From top to bottom, you slide his length inside you slowly, and it takes some time for you to be able to fit him inside you completely. His girth is something above average, and the eight months since your breakup that you've been in a drought require you a minute to readapt to his size.

You let out a moan when you finally bring your hips together and feel overwhelmed by his size. You place both hands on Max's chest for balance and dig your nails into his pale skin. You lift your hips just a few inches and sit back down, the friction making you both moan so loudly that for a moment you worry you might be heard. Then you remember that the party is in full swing downstairs, and the music is loud enough that you don't need to worry.

Max's two hands hold your ass and you start to move with more rhythm, going very high before coming back down with everything, pushing his cock inside you. His lips are parted and you bend down to kiss his chin and neck.

“You are mine,” Something possessive inside you makes you say that. Max looks at you completely surrendered. “Do you understand?” He nods. You leave a hickey on his shoulder that makes him contract deliciously inside you and mark him as yours. You increase the speed of the rise and fall of your hips, your moans matching his.

Max gives up his control fully and just lets you ride him the way you want, his moans getting louder and louder by the second. He stretches you so well that your toes curl, and Max presses his hand on your lower belly, the pressure makes you feel something completely different as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Your knees weaken and Max takes the opportunity to reverse your positions again, placing you on your back on the bed as if he were impatient. Without disconnecting your bodies, he reaches for a pillow and places it under your hips to lift you a bit in the new position. He put your thighs over his where he is kneeling between your legs. Max pushes into you slowly, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your head drops back when he goes all the way in, his hips meeting yours until there is no space in between.

“Max! Oh fuck- oh-” you practically scream, pinching your own nipples to find some relief, “Oh my God!

In the new position he presses deep into your G-spot and you know you won't last much longer. His hands hold your hips even tighter and he lifts practically half of your body off the bed to thrust into you hard enough to make your head bounce on the bed.

There's nothing you can do but surrender to the pleasure that's building inside you with the way Max manipulates your body, holding onto his forearms for dear life, probably leaving some nail marks behind.

Max puts you back on the pillow, one hand he flattens on your stomach to keep you in place, and the other he presses his thumb to your clit. From then on, it's a lost cause. It's a matter of minutes before the orgasm that has been building for the second time erupts.

Your brain blackouts for a second as he pushes you off the cliff, and your hip shakes so hard that you thank God you're underneath, otherwise you would have fallen. Your pussy spasms also make Max cum soon after. Panting, he pulls out and falls on top of you, his head against your chest.

You lay like that trying to catch your breath for long minutes without saying anything, one of Max's hands running up and down your side and your fingers playing with his hair.

You still haven't said anything when you get up and go to the bathroom to clean up. When you’re putting on your panties, you remember Max destroyed your miniskirt. You gather the fabric from the floor and fold it.

“I'm sorry about the skirt,” Max finally breaks the silence, giving you the button-down shirt he was wearing earlier. As soon as you put your arms through the sleeve, Max fastens the buttons for you. you end up wearing the bustier over the shirt, like these it girls do and the final look isn't so bad. Max puts on another outfit and looks for a new shirt in a backpack that you know belongs to one of your friends.

When you’re both dressed, you leave the room still unsure of what to say. Max holds your hand, stopping you from walking any further.

“How are we now? Will you give you another chance?” he asks, sounding anxious. You realize you haven't given him a complete answer yet, which is why he seems uncertain like this. You rise on tiptoe, and bring your lips closer, holding his neck.

“I said you're mine, didn't I?” you whisper against his lips. You leave a quick peck on his lips and pull away.

But this time he doesn't let go of your hand, he just keeps holding on, tightly as you walk down the stairs back to the party, just in time for the countdown to New Year's Eve.

When you arrive at your friends' table, they start shouting and applauding when they see that you are holding hands.

“You guys are back together?” Alex asks, hugging Charles, over the voices of people counting down from 20.

“Max is on probation, if he behaves, we'll get back together,” you say with a playful tone and everyone laughs.

Max wraps his arms around your waist and you two join the countdown.

5, 4, 3, 2… 1!

“Happy New Year, Max!” you shout, over the voices of everyone celebrating the new year. He holds your face with both hands and looks at you as if you were his entire world, his blue eyes shining with deep feeling.

“I love you,” He whispers in your ear, before pulling you to sit on his lap and placing a kiss on your lips. He clings to you like he is afraid if he let you go, you will leave again.

"I love you too, pretty baby," you whispered back, laughing as his face went red.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #formula 1 #formula one

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ateezthings · 4 months ago

Text

Thoughts are too much

pairing: bf!Changbin x female reader genre: angsty angst with fluffy ending warnings: body image issues (esp. regarding weight, hairiness, posture, sweatiness), mental health struggles, reader is a bit of an asshole, Changbin is a sweetheart word count: 1,4 k songs to listen to while reading: palaye royale – don’t cry enhypen – moonstruck i prevail – doomed ninety one – why’m sleeping at last – you’re enough a/n: to anyone who relates to these thoughts: I hope you find the courage to cultivate your own little Changbin in your head, who can fight those thoughts for you. Changbin is just my little safe place when it comes to body issues.

No, you were not gonna miss this train. You sprinted towards the closing doors, determined to make it to work on time. Just before the doors closed, you made it inside, the people around staring at you.

You found an empty seat and sat down, sweaty but feeling proud. As you took out your book you noticed you sat down opposite of an incredibly beautiful woman. It wasn’t so much her features that were pretty, it was more how everything about her seemed so incredibly well-proportioned. She also seemed to hold herself well, she definitely had good posture. Her shoulders were not drooping like yours often were. She also didn’t seem to sweat like you currently were.

A few years ago, you were deeply buried in your self-critical thoughts about your looks. Your mind didn’t need anything to attack every single thing about your body. ‘Your stomach is way too big’, ‘You’re way too hairy for anyone to be attracted to you’, ‘You should be ashamed of your weight’. Horrible stuff, day in, day out.

You’d worked long and hard to keep these thoughts and feelings in check. You knew there was no other way around it but to keep trying to be nice to yourself. Some days were easier than others. Today seemed to be a particularly tough day.

As soon as you looked at the woman opposite of you, all those thoughts you thought you had handled, came back rushing in without warning. ‘Look at her, she doesn’t look like a sweaty pig’, ‘You should suck in your stomach more, hers isn’t even visible’, ‘Sit up straight, you look awful’.

You were listening to every single thing your mind shot at you. You couldn’t seem to deal with them today and so you had no choice but to start believing all the horrible things again. They seemed true in that moment. You turned up the song on your headphones a bit more.

…

You’d made it to lunch, sitting next to a few colleagues, just chitchatting away. As you got up to get a second serving of the pasta bake, your coworker stated “A second serving, are you sure?”

She wasn’t a particularly good friend at work, but it was enough. It was enough to summon that dark cloud of thoughts again. ‘Nothing about you was or ever will be good enough’. She might as well have punched you in the stomach.

…

With enough distraction, panic about getting fired and more caffeine you’d made it through the work day. All you wanted to do now was get home, and lie down in front of your comfort show Gilmore Girls.

As soon as you shut your apartment door your bones seemed to get 37 kilograms heavier. You leaned against the door and took a deep breath.

“Honey?” His voice startled you. He poked his head around the corner. It was your Changbin.

“Hey baby… what are you doing here?”.

“Oh, I just went to the gym around the corner. By the time I was done I remembered this is usually the time you get home from work, I wanted to surprise you.” That smile, it melted away the tension in your forehead and shoulders. You got up to hug him. It was one of those hugs where you could let go, shifting almost all your weight on Changbin, who did his best to hold you together.

“Are you okay, honey?”

You didn’t feel like you could verbally express everything that was going on in your brain. “Yeah, of course”

He softly let go of your hug. “Then how about some dinner?”

“Uh, I’m not really hungry right now”

“Are you sure? You’ve worked all day”

You were getting more and more irritated the more he questioned you. “Yes, Changbin, I am sure. I am not hungry.”

He took a step back and put his palms up in defense. “Okay, okay… I’m just worried about you… You sure everything’s alright?”

A small grunt left your lips. “Yes, and I don’t want to be questioned anymore. Please just leave me alone” Your voice sounded louder than you intended.

And there it was: the hurt on his face. It wasn’t too obvious but you could read him. And he could probably read you. Which is not at all what you wanted right now.

“I need to leave.” You hadn’t taken off your shoes when you got home so you just opened the door.

“No, Y/N please talk to-” But you already shut the door on him before he could finish his sentence.

After a few steps you stopped for a beat to hear if he would come after you, but he didn’t. He knew you too well to assume you wanted to talk in a situation like this.

Of course, you knew you were behaving like an asshole. He didn’t deserve your bitchiness but it was all too much in your brain today. The thoughts, the anxiety, the depression, it all weighed too heavy on your shoulders today. Why was he even still with you?

You’d talked to him about your mental health struggles in the past, and he was always trying his best to ease the struggle. But every few weeks you started believing in the thoughts again and they were telling you to isolate yourself. Changbin didn’t love those parts of you anyways, so you deserved to be alone.

That got you thinking: Changbin sometimes had rolls on his stomach, he got sweaty at times. But that didn’t make you love him any less. You loved him for him, not because of what he looked like or didn’t look like. He made you feel safe and home.

There was a tiny voice on your head that said maybe, just maybe that was also the case for him. He never gave you much reason to doubt his love for you. So, what were you doing consciously sabotaging your relationship? Why were you walking around alone at night, instead of confiding in your best friend and boyfriend? How stupid of you.

It took you a good few minutes to find the way back to your apartment. In your emotional state you just walked wherever without looking about where you were going.

Eventually you made it back. You realized you didn’t know what to say to Changbin.

Before you could worry further, your apartment door swung open and Changbin stood right in front of you. He looked relieved. “Oh, thank god, honey, you’re here.” He engulfed you in a tight hug and lifted you off the ground. “I was gonna give you 15 minutes before going after you but I got too worried” He squeezed you a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry, Changbin, my thoughts are too much for me today.” Your voice was a whisper.

He let go of you to look at you. His eyebrows were raised and eyes big. “Will you tell me what’s going on in there right now?”

You nodded. It was time.

He took your hand and pulled you inside, on the couch.

After you somehow explained to him what’s been going on in your mind, you felt extremely tired but a lot lighter. A few tears fell down your cheeks while you were talking. Changbin listened closely the entire time.

“Y/N, please promise me, that the next time you notice these thoughts, you immediately text me. What you’re thinking isn’t the reality, not even close. I love you, and I love all of you, no matter what you look like. What you look like isn’t what makes you worthy, it’s being yourself. And I think you’re pretty amazing… and I am of course very objective in saying that so you can believe me… it’s based on scientific evidence.”

There it was, his stupid sense of humor you loved so much. Even in a situation like this he managed to make you smile without much effort.

“Oh really? I’d like to see this evidence someday, please?”

“Uh yeah sure, but I need to do one thing first…” He inched closer to your face eyes scanning your face. Then he gently kissed you, his hands holding your cheeks like you were a precious gemstone.

105 notes · View notes

wakeup01 · 9 months ago

Note

Hey! I hear you'll might be able to help me. I've always been attracted to muscled bodies. I think they are so manly and attractive. Recently I even got a membership at the gym with the hopes to finally get the body of my dreams. but after a year of training, I don't see any results. Do you think you could help me? I'm willing to give anyting only ot reach my body goal.

The Tradeoff

Sigh. See, It’s not a question of can I help. It’s a question of why should I help? Luckily, you said those magic, oft-regretted words: ‘I’ll give anything’. Anything? How about giving everything?

Having second thoughts? Too late. I’ll make you a muscled beast, sure. And then some. But in return you’re going to be my pet. My grunting, drooling moron that I walk around on a leash. Like a faithful dog. With an equally low IQ. You’ll have all the muscles and bulk you could ever ask for, and all it’s gonna cost is your free will. Your intelligence. Your personality.

Just marvel at that expanding physique - even if it is mostly a facade, those popping veins. That layer of sweat leaking profusely from every single pore. Tendons and shoulder blades stretching against your tight skin. Frankly dummy, you look ridiculous, your arms hang far apart from your juiced up chest; standing there mimicking a default posed video game character. Stomach vacuumed flat. Tiny waist. Square head. Your bulbous biceps inflating as if I’m pumping them with air. And your cock? Well, your cock is barely worthy of mention at all now. All that new blood coursing through you had to come from somewhere. And yet, despite all that, you feel the primal need to show off. ‘Look at me, look at how stupid I look. How proud I am of it.’

Your comically proportioned body is like a life-sized action figure, and trust me, I plan to play with you however I wish. But hey, it’s what YOU wanted. Now for what I want, my pay.

*click*

The leash is a little tight on your thick, meat filled neck, but it’ll do. You feel it right? I can see it in your panicking eyes. The sensation of your brain being squeezed, like it’s in a vice. But the vice, the vice is my hand. That’s right pet, smile as I juice your brain like an ripe orange, draining everything into your hulking body and fuelling your throbbing muscles. Squint while struggling to read these words. Chuckle like an utter blockhead as I enslave you. Haha. Good dumb fucking idiot.

Come along, pet. I want to show you off to the whole gym before we shave your head and fit you with a harness. More importantly, I’m looking forward to getting you on all fours and locking you in your cage. What fun! You’ll be eating your protein on the floor from a metal dish from now on. It’s the only thing befitting a dumb muscle beast like you.

I hope your new life is everything you wanted. If not, well, tough shit. I don’t give a fuck. I own you.

#request #jock #transformation #gay #dumbing down

177 notes · View notes

velvetsupremacy · 14 days ago

Text

In My Head (Part 1)

Pairing: Irene x FEM Reader

Summary: In which Joohyun is a popular cheerleader majoring in psychology and you’re a hopeless gay who reports on Joohyun’s boyfriend’s, Minho, soccer season and you’re paired together for a class project.

Word Count: 8.9k words

Warning: Alcohol use but very brief, no smut

So sorry for the delay but here's part 1, part 2 (final part) coming soon!!

The start of junior year felt like the beginning of something big for you. You practically skipped across the campus lawn, camera bag bouncing against your hip as you soaked in the buzz of excitement that hung in the air. It wasn’t just about covering the men’s soccer team for the college news station, even though the team was expected to go all the way to the championship this year. No, it was the possibility of seeing her again - Joohyun.

“Look at you, all perked up,” Yerim teased, pulling her sunglasses down. “Excited about watching a bunch of dudes sweat it out on a field?”

“Hey, it’s for the story,” you said, pretending to sound professional but failing miserably as you grinned ear to ear. “We need a good story to start the year, and this team’s perfect for that.”

Yerim arched an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Uh-huh. And the fact that Joohyun will be bouncing around in a skirt has nothing to do with your sudden love for sports?”

You nearly tripped over your own feet. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” Yerim shot back, her smirk widening. “Just don’t drool on your camera lens.”

Yerim had a point, though. You had met her in a media law class last year, bonding over your shared major and mutual love for Ariana Grande. Since then, you'd become close friends, sharing everything from class notes to hangover remedies. Yerim had a knack for reading you like an open book, which was both a blessing and a curse.

You both reached the field, and your breath caught in your throat as your gaze zeroed in on the cheerleaders warming up on the sidelines.

Your eyes found Joohyun almost immediately, as if drawn to her like a moth to a very, very hot flame. Joohyun, with her long, silky brunette hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial, was impossible to miss. Her hair cascaded down her back in waves, catching the sunlight with every effortless toss of her head. She was short - barely 5’3”- but every inch of her was perfectly proportioned, from her slightly toned legs that peeked out from under her cheer skirt to the soft, delicate features of her face. Joohyun looked like she’d stepped out of a dream, all elegance and confidence wrapped in a cheer uniform that somehow made her both sweet and dangerously alluring at the same time.

She twirled a pom-pom, laughing at something one of her teammates said, and for a moment, you forgot how to function.

Bae Joohyun wasn’t just a cheerleader. She was practically campus royalty. A psychology major with plans to go to law school, Joohyun had a reputation for being not only drop-dead gorgeous but also frighteningly smart. She had a soothing voice that made her a favorite at the college radio station where she hosted a show once a week and probably had a fan club just for the way she said, “Good morning.”

For you, the crush had started last year in the most cliché way possible. You’d been covering a student rally, trying to capture the perfect shot of the crowd, when Joohyun had stepped up to the microphone. The crowd had quieted instantly, hanging on her every word. You focused on getting the perfect shot, but when you looked up through the lens and saw Joohyun’s face, something had clicked.

There was a passion in Joohyun’s voice, a fire that matched the intensity of her gaze. She had spoken about the importance of mental health with a conviction that was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just that Joohyun was beautiful—though she definitely was. It was that she seemed to care so deeply, to be so fully herself, that it drew you in like nothing else had.

Since then, you’d found herself “accidentally” ending up anywhere Joohyun might be, even if it was just to catch a glimpse from afar.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Yerim said, snapping a picture of the team’s star player, Choi Minho, as he jogged onto the field. “You’ve been swooning over her for, what, months now?”

“Not gonna happen,” you denied vehemently, shaking your head. “Not while she’s with Minho, and not unless I know for sure she even likes girls. Plus, someone like her going for someone like me? Yeah, right.”

Yerim snorted. “You say that like you’re not a catch. Besides, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one’s watching.”

“Yeah, like I’m the weird girl with the camera who’s always lurking in the background,” you chuckled.

“Or maybe like she’s trying not to blush every time you’re within a hundred feet,” Yerim retorted.

You would like to believe Yerim, but the idea of Joohyun returning your feelings felt about as likely as you becoming a professional soccer player overnight. Still, you couldn’t deny the way your heart sped up at the thought.

“Focus,” you whispered to yourself, zooming in on Minho as he made a perfect pass. But your mind wandered back to that rally last year. Joohyun had been captivating then, and she was just as captivating now. The crush that had started in that moment had only grown, fed by every little thing you had learned about her since.

“Hey,” Yerim snapped her fingers in front of your face. “Practice is wrapping up. Let’s go get those interviews before you lose your mind.”

“Right,” you said, lowering the camera. You had a job to do—a story to tell. But as you headed toward the team, your gaze lingered on Joohyun for just a moment longer. What was it about her that made your heart do that little flip every time you saw her? It was ridiculous, really. A crush on a girl you could never be with.

And with that thought, you followed Yerim toward the team, ready to get these interviews over with…

As you wrapped up the interview with Minho, he wiped the sweat from his brow and flashed you a charming grin. The guy was a natural during interviews, confident and effortlessly likable. You thanked him for his time, making sure to capture one last shot of him before lowering your camera.

"Good luck this season," you said, trying to sound more professional and less like you’d been daydreaming about his girlfriend half the time. How unprofessional.

"Thanks," Minho replied, flashing a bright smile. "I’ll do my best not to disappoint."

As he turned to jog back to his teammates, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Joohyun walking toward the field. She moved with that same effortless grace, her hair shining under the late afternoon sun and was making a beeline for Minho, tiptoeing adorably to kiss his cheek.

Of course, you thought to yourself, trying not to make a face. They were dating. You knew this. Everyone knew this. Still, knowing it didn’t make the sight any easier to watch.

You couldn’t help but feel a little ridiculous. This wasn’t some romantic drama where a smile meant destiny was at play. No, this was just real life, and in real life, Joohyun didn’t even know your name.

“Come on, let’s head out,” Yerim called from a few feet away, waving her phone in the air. You nodded, following her lead.

As you both made your way off the field, a nagging thought wormed its way into your mind, the one you’d been trying to avoid all week.

Classes were starting next Monday, and with them came the embarrassing reality that you, a junior, would be sitting in Journalism 1 like a freshman.

It wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured your academic journey. You’d planned to take Journalism 1 ages ago, but thanks to a mix-up in your scheduling during your first year, you’d ended up prioritizing other courses. By the time you realized the mistake, all the Journalism 1 sections were full.

So here you were, entering your junior year and still having to take an introductory class. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but the idea of sitting through lectures you probably could have passed two years ago was a little silly.

“Lost in thought again?” Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. She gave you a knowing look as you both reached the parking lot. “Let me guess, you’re freaking out about J1 again?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a shrug, trying to downplay it. “It’s just…I don’t know. I should be past all that by now.”

Yerim snorted, adjusting her sunglasses. “You’ll be fine. Besides, who cares? It’s just a class.”

“Yeah, but still,” you sighed. “It’s not exactly ideal.”

Yerim lightly slapped your shoulder, snorting off your concerns. “Don’t worry so much. You already have experience making stories for the school paper and radio. What’s an intro class with Professor Kim anyway? She loves you.”

You cracked a smile, recalling how you earned Professor Kim’s approval in Media Law and Ethics, which were two of the hardest classes within your program. “You’re right. It’s just an intro class.”

“Of course I am,” she said, holding her growling stomach. “Now, let’s go grab some food. I’m starving.”

Monday arrived with an unexpected sense of calm. You strolled across campus, your bag slung over your shoulder and a spring in your step. The weekend had been fun catching up with all your friends, and your first few classes that morning went better than expected.

But now, as you approached the door to Journalism 1, that confidence started to waver. You’d been riding high all day, but the reality of walking into a freshman-heavy class was suddenly weighing on you.

You paused outside the classroom, staring at the door. It was just a class. Just an hour, and then you’d be done for the day.

With a sigh, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was already filling up with fresh faces. You scanned the rows of desks, looking for a spot where you could blend in. After a moment, you settled into a seat toward the back, hoping to go unnoticed.

As you pulled out your notebook and laptop, you caught snippets of conversations from the students around you. They were buzzing with excitement about writing for the school paper or getting their hands on some broadcast work. You smiled, remembering the time you had been as eager and wide-eyed.

The door swung open again, and you glanced up out of habit. When you saw who had walked in, your heart skipped a beat - Joohyun.

Your mind immediately went into overdrive. What was she doing here? This was just some intro class. Joohyun was a psych major. Surely she didn’t need to be here too. Yet, there she was, making her way into the room with that grace you admired from afar. She didn’t seem to notice you as she scanned the room for a seat.

You quickly ducked your head, pretending to be engrossed in your notes. The last thing you needed was for Joohyun to catch you staring. As fate would have it, she ended up sitting just a few rows ahead of you. Close enough that you couldn’t help but notice every time she shifted in her seat. Great.

The lecture began as Professor Kim walked in, her presence instantly commanding the room. You’d taken a few classes with her before, so you knew she was the type to keep things moving quickly. After a brief introduction, she jumped right into the syllabus.

“Welcome to Journalism 1,” Professor Kim began, her tone brisk. “I know some of you are here because you’re excited about journalism, some because it’s a requirement, and some because, well, you need the credits.” A few chuckles rippled through the room, and you allowed yourself a small smile.

She went on to explain the course structure—lectures, assignments, workshops—but it was when she reached the partner project that your attention fully snapped back.

“As part of this course, you’ll be working on a partner project,” Professor Kim announced, scanning the room. “This will be an opportunity to apply what you’re learning in a practical way. You’ll be paired in a few weeks, and I expect each team to produce a piece of journalism that could be print, broadcast, or multimedia. This counts as the final of this class so you will have the second half of the semester to work on it.”

You swallowed hard. Partner projects were always a bit of a gamble. It could mean working with someone who’d pull their weight, or it could mean babysitting.

“Now, before anyone panics,” Professor Kim continued with a faint smile, “I want to reassure you that I’m here to help, and so are your classmates. In fact, I see a familiar face in the crowd.” Her eyes landed on you, and you froze.

“Ah, yes, there you are,” Professor Kim said, her smile growing. “I’m sure many of you don’t know this yet, but we have a bit of an expert with us today. She’s done excellent work for the school newspaper and the college news station, and she excelled in my previous classes.” You felt your cheeks flush as several heads turned in your direction. So much for flying under the radar.

“So, if you have questions about storytelling, pitching ideas, or even how to juggle deadlines, don’t hesitate to ask her,” Professor Kim added, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “She’s a great resource.”

You managed a weak smile and a nod, trying to look like you weren’t about to melt into your chair. Inside, though, your nerves were high. Being called out like that was the last thing you’d expected. You’d wanted to blend in, not stand out, especially with Joohyun just a few rows ahead.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur, your mind racing with a mix of anxiety and curiosity. What if you ended up paired with Joohyun for the project? Like that would happen.

As Professor Kim wrapped up the class and dismissed everyone, you quickly packed up your things, eager to escape. You slung you bag over your shoulder and made a beeline for the door, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters.

But as you stepped into the hallway, you couldn’t help but glance back. Joohyun was still in the classroom, slowly packing her things. She didn’t seem to notice you at all, and for once, you were grateful. You needed time to figure out how you were going to navigate the rest of the semester…

The media center had always been your safe place, the place where you could bury yourself in work and forget about everything else. The familiar hum of activity filled the space as students shuffled between the school newspaper and the college radio station. The faint sound of music from the radio station’s booth mixed with the low murmur of conversations, and you felt your shoulders relax a little as you made your way to your usual spot near the back.

You practically lived here, spending countless hours on projects, hanging out with the news and radio staff. Today was no different, except for one thing, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joohyun showing up in Journalism 1. You were halfway through editing some soundbites for the soccer team’s story when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Look who survived!" Yerim’s voice rang out, dripping with playful sarcasm. She plopped down into the chair next to you, leaning back with a satisfied grin. "How was J1 and how does it feel to be Professor Kim’s golden child?"

You groaned, regretting that you texted Yerim everything that happened and ran a hand through your hair. "Don’t remind me. I was trying to hide. Now everyone’s gonna think I’m some know-it-all."

Yerim snickered. "Please. Half those freshmen probably think you’re a TA or something. They’ll be asking you for help with their shit by the end of the week."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. "Just what I needed. More work."

"So, tell me," Yerim leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What’s this about Bae Joohyun being in your class? You nearly faint when you saw her?"

"Not quite," you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. "But yeah, she’s in J1. No idea why, though."

Yerim raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Seriously? What’s she doing in intro courses? She’s like, Miss Campus Everything."

"That’s what I was wondering," you replied, mindlessly fiddling with a pen. "I didn’t get a chance to ask her, obviously. I figured she’d be in some psych courses, not sitting through the basics of journalism."

Yerim snorted. "Maybe she’s got a secret passion for headline writing. Or she’s just there to watch you squirm."

"Ha ha, very funny," you shot back, though the thought of Joohyun silently judging you made your stomach twist. "I’m just curious, okay? It’s not every day someone like her shows up like that."

Before Yerim could respond, a familiar face appeared in the doorway, Changmin, the station manager. He was juggling a stack of papers and his ever-present coffee mug, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. But despite his appearance, there was a warmth about him that made everyone feel welcome.

"Hey, Changmin!" Yerim called out, waving him over. "You got a minute?"

Changmin ambled over, setting his papers down on the nearest table. "Always got a minute for you two," he said, his voice tinged with that familiar fatherly tone he used whenever he spoke to his "media kids."

He took a sip of his coffee, looking at you both with kind eyes. "What’s on your minds?"

"We were just talking about Joohyun," Yerim said, leaning back in her chair with a grin. "Apparently, she’s in J1 with this one." She pointed at you. "Any idea why she’s slumming it with us peasants?"

Changmin’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, and then he smiled, nodding as if something had clicked into place. "Ah, yes. She mentioned that to me last week when she stopped by the station. She’s minoring in broadcasting, so J1 is a requirement for her."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Broadcasting? Really?"

"Yup," He confirmed. "She’s got big plans, wants to do more on-air work and maybe even take on some anchoring for the morning news. She’s driven and looking to learn as much as she can."

"Wow, I’m down so bad," you groaned, feeling a mix of awe and admiration. What couldn’t this woman do?

Yerim patted your back, though you could hear the laughter in her voice. "Chill. You’re gonna be just fine. If anything, this is your chance to impress her with your charm and expertise. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up partners for that J1 project."

"Yeah, right," you muttered, though the idea made your heart race. “Knowing my luck, I’ll get paired with someone who doesn’t even show up to class.”

Changmin shook his head with a smile, gathering up his papers from the table. "Good luck with that. And hey, if you do end up working with her on that project, just be yourself. You’ve got plenty of experience to share, and she’s smart enough to appreciate that."

You felt a bit of the tension in your chest ease. Changmin had a way of making everything seem okay, like you could handle whatever came your way. "Thanks, Changmin. That… actually helps a lot."

“Anytime,” he smiled warmly, “Just remember - you’re here because you love what you do, and that passion is going to carry you through, no matter who’s in the class with you."

With that, he gave you both a reassuring nod and headed out the door, leaving you feeling more grounded than you had all day.

Yerim turned back to you, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "So, what’s the game plan now? You gonna impress her with your skills?"

"Or," you said, raising an eyebrow, "I could just try not to trip over my own feet in front of her."

"Where’s the fun in that?" Yerim teased. "But seriously, this could be your chance to show her what you’re made of."

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite the butterflies in your stomach. "We’ll see. I’m not even sure if she’s into girls like that. For now, I’m just gonna take it one class at a time."

Yerim grinned, giving you a mock salute. "That’s the spirit. And hey, if you need any tips on charming her, I’m always here."

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the soccer field. The air buzzed with anticipation as the men’s soccer team warmed up for their first game of the season against a visiting school. You were stationed near the sidelines, camera in hand, ready to capture the action for the upcoming story you were working on. This game would be a key piece of the puzzle, the team’s first real test of the season.

You adjusted your lens, focusing on Minho as he led the team through drills, his every move sharp and precise, though his gaze drifted to the stands every so often, like his mind was somewhere else. The team was hyped for the season, with high expectations from everyone around them. But your attention wasn’t fully on Minho or the players. No, your thoughts kept drifting back to Joohyun.

Ever since you found out she was in Journalism 1, you couldn’t stop wondering about her. And now, here you were again, on the same field where you’d seen her just last week, except this time, you knew a little more about her goals and ambitions. Broadcasting. It made perfect sense, really.

"Hey," Yerim’s voice broke through your thoughts as she appeared by your side, her usual teasing grin in place. "You’re not drooling over Minho, are you? Because that would make things even weirder."

You smirked, rolling your eyes. "As if. I’m just trying to get the perfect shot."

"Uh-huh," Yerim said, jokingly denying your response. She nudged you playfully with her elbow. "So, what’s the deal? Are you gonna make a move on Joohyun? Or are you still playing the long game?"

"I’m not playing anything," you sighed, adjusting your camera to focus on another player. "She has a boyfriend, and I’m not exactly keen on being a homewrecker."

"Well, you know what they say," Yerim wiggled her brows, leaning against the fence. "Never let your boyfriend get in the way of you finding your wife. Maybe you’ll get partnered up for the big project and bond over broadcasting."

You snorted. "Or I’ll just end up partnered with some random person."

"Optimism isn’t your strong suit, is it?" Yerim clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "You never know. Stranger things have happened."

Just then, the sound of laughter caught your attention. You glanced up from your camera and, unsurprisingly, saw Joohyun walking onto the field with the other cheerleaders. They were here to support the team, of course, and Joohyun looked as perfect as ever. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and she wore the red and white cheer uniform that seemed to hug her body so well.

Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always seemed to do whenever she was around, and you cursed yourself for it. This was getting sad.

Yerim followed your gaze, her grin widening. "Speak of the devil," she said, her tone practically singing. "Maybe she’ll come over here. Give you a chance to work that journalistic charm."

"Sure," you muttered, trying to refocus on the task at hand. "She’s here with her team to support the guys, duh."

But as fate would have it, Joohyun’s path did seem to be leading her closer to where you stood. She waved at a few friends as she made her way toward the sidelines, but then her eyes landed on you. For a brief moment, you froze, unsure of what to do. Should you wave? Smile? Pretend you hadn’t seen her at all?

Joohyun didn’t seem to have any hesitation, though. She gave you a small, polite smile and a nod as she passed by, her gaze lingering just a second longer than you expected. It wasn’t much - just a brief moment of acknowledgment - but it was enough to make you almost crazy.

Yerim nudged you again, practically vibrating with excitement. "Did you see that? She smiled at you! Oh my god, this is progress. We’re making moves!"

"Calm down," you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. "It was just a smile. She smiles at everyone at games."

"Yeah, but she smiled at you and I’m standing here like a snack," Yerim insisted, her grin widening. "That’s gotta mean something."

You shook your head, “You’re being delusional, Yerim.”

Before she could respond, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the scrimmage. The players took their positions on the field, and you quickly turned your attention back to your camera.

Throughout the game, you found yourself glancing over at Joohyun more than you intended to. Every time you tried to focus on the action on the field, your eyes betrayed you, drifting back to where she stood, cheering with that infectious enthusiasm. Her smile seemed to light up the entire stadium, brighter than the field lights themselves.

But then it happened. She caught you staring. Your heart skipped a beat as your gaze collided with hers, and for a split second, you froze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. Joohyun met your eyes and gave you another smile, one that felt warm, but suddenly it made you feel exposed.

You quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your camera settings, but the embarrassment lingered. God, she probably thinks I’m a creep, you thought, mentally kicking yourself.

As the game wore on, you put those thoughts aside to focus on the story. By the time the final whistle blew, you were more relieved than anything. The match had been tense, and you were just glad it was over. The team celebrated their hard-fought win, and you lowered your camera, ready to pack up and call it a day.

But then, Minho had to pull his jersey over his face in celebration, revealing a perfectly toned set of abs and stealing the attention of his fangirls and fanboys. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Of course, he has abs, you thought, trying to suppress the mild envy creeping in

"Well, that was fun," Yerim said, stretching as she stood up. "So, what’s the plan now? You gonna stick around for interviews, or are we grabbing food?"

"I need to get a few more shots and talk to the coach about the game," you replied, packing up your gear. "But after that, food sounds good."

"Cool. I’ll wait for you by the bleachers," Yerim said, chucking up a peace sign. "Try not to let Joohyun distract you too much."

You rolled your eyes as she walked off, but you couldn’t help but smile…

You and Yerim walked across campus, the fliers in your hands feeling heavier with every step. The afternoon sun was sitting high in the sky, and you were starting to regret your life choices - mainly, why you agreed to this. Promoting the annual college radio event wasn’t exactly thrilling, especially knowing it had the energy of a retirement home bingo night.

"I still can’t believe you volunteered for this," Yerim said, holding up a flier like it was a tragic masterpiece. "No one ever shows up, except for a few lost freshmen."

You sighed, pinning another flier to the bulletin board outside the student center. "I know, but Changmin looked desperate. And I already feel guilty knowing it’ll probably be a flop, so I figured I’d help out."

Yerim gave you an exaggerated look of pity. "This is like going from your prime time slot to a 2 a.m. infomercial. What’s next, counting ceiling tiles in the library?"

"Maybe," you muttered. "At least it’d be quiet."

Yerim rolled her eyes and smirked. "You’re such an old lady."

You chuckled, knowing it was half-true. As you both made your way to the psychology department, where there were a few more pinboards, your attention suddenly caught on something or rather, someone.

Joohyun.

She was standing near the water fountain, refilling her water bottle, her calm, collected presence making your stomach do that fluttery thing again. The memory of the game popped back into your mind, specifically, the part where she caught you staring at her like a total creep. You’d been trying to shake off the embarrassment ever since.

Yerim noticed her too, and the familiar mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. "Hey, isn’t that your favorite cheerleader?" she whispered, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Now’s your chance. Go say hi."

You shot her an exasperated look. "Why would I do that? She probably doesn’t even know my name. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I’m the person who stared at you during the game’?"

Yerim smirked, clearly enjoying your inner turmoil. "Oh, come on. She’s probably forgotten all about it. Just go over there, act normal, and don’t bring up your little staring contest."

You sighed, trying to focus on the pinboard in front of you instead of the fact that Joohyun was literally ten feet away. "You’re making this sound easy."

"Well, if you’re not going to do it yourself, I’ll just have to help you along," Yerim said, and before you could protest, she not-so-subtly nudged you in Joohyun’s direction.

You stumbled forward, barely catching yourself as you nearly collided with Joohyun. She turned around just in time to see you regaining your balance, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Oh, sorry!" you blurted out, awkwardly clutching your stack of fliers. "I didn’t see you there."

Joohyun blinked, then offered you a polite smile. "That’s okay. It happens."

Yerim, who had positioned herself conveniently nearby, was failing miserably at pretending not to be entertained by the whole situation. You could feel her eyes boring into you, silently egging you on.

"Uh, how’s it going?" you asked, internally cringing at how generic that sounded.

"Good," Joohyun replied, her tone soft. She glanced at the fliers in your hands. "Hanging up fliers?"

"Yeah," you said, trying to sound casual. "Just helping out with some promotions. You know, the usual."

She nodded, her expression still neutral. There was a moment of silence, just long enough to make you start to sweat, before she offered you a small smile. "You’re always working hard, aren’t you?"

Your brain stalled. For a second, you weren’t sure you heard her right. Joohyun noticed you? You, the girl who had been trying to stay invisible this entire time? Your mouth went dry as your mind raced to come up with a response, something coherent at least, but all that came out was, “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Great. Really nailed it. You could practically feel Yerim’s second-hand embarrassment radiating from a few feet away, but Joohyun didn’t seem fazed. In fact, her smile lingered, like she was waiting for you to say more.

"I mean, I like staying busy," you added hastily, trying to recover. Your heart hammered in your chest as you searched her face for any sign of amusement or judgment, but all you saw was that same curiosity. It was unnerving, yet kind of thrilling.

“Well, it shows,” Joohyun said, giving a small nod before glancing at the stack of fliers in your hands. "Good luck with the event."

And just like that, she turned to leave, her water bottle in hand, leaving you standing there, gripping the fliers like a lifeline.

It took a second for your brain to catch up to the rest of your body, the interaction replaying in your mind on a loop. She noticed you. She thought you worked hard. You wanted to feel proud, but all you could focus on was the fact that Joohyun noticed you.

Behind you, Yerim’s muffled laughter broke through the haze of disbelief. "Oh my god, you should see yourself. You’re totally blushing!”

You tried to play it cool, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. “I-I’m not, the AC in here sucks," you mumbled, even though it was perfectly cool and ventilated throughout the building.

As you moved on to the next pinboard, you replayed the brief conversation with Joohyun in your mind, chastising yourself for every little mistake you made but also a little proud you didn’t spontaneously combust in front her. Well, a win is a win…

It had been a few weeks since you hung fliers in the psychology department, awkwardly bumping into Joohyun. Since then, your time in the media center had dwindled. Other students on the school paper were eager to get their hands on some sports stories, and you were more than happy to give them the reigns. Besides, the break gave you a chance to slow down and focus on other things like keeping up with your classes, helping your peers, and seeing Joohyun in Journalism 1 twice a week.

You couldn’t exactly say things had changed much between you and Joohyun. You still admired her from afar, barely making eye contact during class, and any passing interactions were short-lived. But today, Professor Kim was ramping things up with the partner project, and your mind buzzed with nerves and anticipation.

"Alright, everyone, listen up," Professor Kim’s voice rang out, snapping you out of your thoughts. "You've all been building your skills over the last few weeks, and now it’s time to put them into practice with a partner project."

Your stomach twisted. The partner project? Already? You glanced around the room as a few students exchanged looks. This was going to be interesting.

“You and your partner will be interviewing each other,” Professor Kim continued, pacing at the front of the classroom. “Twenty minutes each, so forty minutes in total. I want you and your partner to find something newsworthy to report on based on your interviews. Whether it's a unique hobby, an unusual experience, or a surprising interest. You’ll need to research your partner beforehand. Stalk them a bit on social media, Google them, find out whatever you can. Then, write 8 to 10 questions for the interview which will be due by class next Monday, and next Wednesday there will be no class, so you have time to interview your partner.”

Your mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario, being paired with someone who didn’t care about the project. Or worse, being paired with Joohyun. You gulped at the thought.

“The final story will be collaborative," Professor Kim continued, "There are different requirements for the project depending on the medium of your choice - print, audio, or video, but the details of that are on the syllabus.”

Professor Kim then held up a small hat, clearly excited about what was coming next. “Half of you will tear out a piece of paper, write your name, and drop it into this hat. The other half will draw a name, announce it, and that will be your partner.”

The class groaned, but you could tell some people were excited. You, however, were trying to calculate the odds of not getting paired with Joohyun.

You watched as the first half of the class, including Joohyun, scribbled their names on pieces of paper and dropped them into the hat. You were in the second half, the group tasked with pulling names. As the hat slowly circled around the room, Professor Kim paused at each student to let them pick.

Your heart pounded harder with every name that was read aloud.

“Kim Minjeong.”

“Jung Jaehyun.”

“Jimin—oh, great…”

One by one, names were called out, and with each one, you felt a strange mixture of relief and rising panic. The hat finally made its way to you. Your hands were clammy as you reached in, fishing around until you grabbed a small slip of paper.

Please don’t be Joohyun, please don’t be Joohyun, you chanted in your head.

You opened the slip of paper.

“Bae… Joohyun.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You felt your stomach drop as the room went quiet. You could feel the eyes on you—mostly Yerim’s, though her smug face was nowhere to be seen—and you froze, struggling to keep your cool. When you finally glanced up, Joohyun was looking directly at you, her expression calm but curious.

You swallowed hard, trying to seem composed. You definitely didn’t feel composed.

Professor Kim smiled and nodded. “Great. Everyone else has their partners. Before you leave, I want you to exchange contact information, introduce yourselves, though I assume most of you already know each other, and plan a time to meet.”

You stayed seated for a moment, dreading the thought of standing up and walking over to Joohyun. But you had to do it. You have to be professional, you reminded yourself.

After taking a deep breath, you stood, your legs feeling a little shaky, and walked over to Joohyun’s desk, where she was quietly packing her things. She looked up as you approached, smiling shyly.

“H-hey,” you stammered, nerves kicking in as you awkwardly slid into the seat beside her. “Looks like we’re partners.”

Joohyun nodded with a cute smile. “Looks like it.”

“So, um… we should figure out when to meet for the interviews,” you said, trying to sound normal but feeling anything but with her watching you with bright eyes.

“Yeah,” Joohyun agreed easily. “How about next Wednesday? Or whenever works for you.”

You nodded a bit too quickly. “Sure, that works! I mean, Wednesday’s good for me.”

An awkward pause followed, and you could feel your heart racing as the silence stretched. Desperate to seem less weird, you pulled out your phone - only to fumble it like a hot potato, sending it flying onto the desk with a loud clatter. Joohyun burst out laughing, the sound completely unfiltered.

“Well,” she said moments later, her body shaking slightly with silent laughter, “at least I’m not the only one a little nervous about the project.”

You blinked, your cheeks burning. If only she knew it wasn’t the project making you nervous. “I—I guess we’re in this together,” you mumbled, feeling both embarrassed and relieved.

Joohyun’s smile softened as she picked up your phone and handed it back. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”

You thanked her quietly, your hands brushing for a brief second as you exchanged contact info. The awkward tension between you both started to fade, replaced by a sense of familiarity. Joohyun, despite her reputation, seemed just as shy by the end of class.

“See you next time,” she said gently, her eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah,” you replied, your heart still pounding. “See you.”

As you left the classroom, you pulled out your phone and shot Yerim a quick text.

You (2:33 pm): Guess what? Just got paired with Bae fucking Joohyun for the project.

Her response came back instantly.

Yerim (2:33 pm) ??? are you breathing ???

You nearly choked on a laugh, tucking your phone away. Maybe, just maybe, this project wouldn’t be so bad after all…

The hum of the café provided the perfect background noise as you tried to clear your mind. After a whirlwind week of classes, getting off campus was a much needed escape. The coffee shop you and Yerim had chosen was small, tucked away in a quiet corner of town, just the kind of spot you both liked.

You took a sip of your favorite coffee, the warmth calming your nerves, as you stared at the blank document on your laptop. Interview questions. That’s what you were supposed to be working on. The project with Joohyun was real now, and it was your job to research her and draft some thoughtful questions.

But professionalism wasn’t exactly what was on your mind.

You glanced around the café, making sure Yerim wasn’t paying attention. She was engrossed in her own laptop, typing furiously. Thinking the coast was clear, you pulled up Joohyun’s Instagram on your phone. You’d looked her up before, obviously. Long before this project was even a thing. But back then, her profile had been private. You’d debated sending her a follow request so many times, but always chickened out.

Now, though? You were following each other.

Joohyun had texted you a few days ago, asking for your social media handles. Just seeing her name pop up on your screen had made your heart skip a beat. Bae Joohyun. For a brief moment, you let yourself imagine she was texting you for something more. But the excitement faded as soon as you saw her message—it was just about the project.

You sighed and pushed that memory aside as you scrolled through her feed. Her profile was clean, simple, and exactly what you’d expect. Lots of scenic shots, some sunsets, quiet moments in nature. There were a few selfies, where she looked effortlessly stunning, of course. Then, there were the photos of her with Minho.

They seemed happy. A handful of pictures together, tagged at restaurants and casual days out. That familiar twist of disappointment crept up.

"Looking up your new girlfriend, I see?" Yerim’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you.

You fumbled, nearly dropping your phone. "What? No!"

Yerim raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Sure, sure. You’re not being very subtle here."

You groaned, putting your phone down. "It’s for the questions I have to come up with. And how many times do I have to remind you about her boyfriend?”

"Ah, yes, perfect Minho," Yerim said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "But you’ve got something too. Maybe not trophies, fame, and abs just yet but you’re a cutie who has a knack for chatting people up.”

You snorted, shaking your head. "Thanks for the pep talk."

Yerim grinned. "Anytime. But seriously, stop creeping on her Instagram and focus on your work, weirdo.”

You walked briskly across campus, your nerves fluttering as you neared the media center. Today was the interview with Joohyun, and while you’d snagged a cozy room filled with snacks and drinks to make things more comfortable, it was hard to shake the anxiety. Joohyun was your partner, and the idea of interviewing her still felt surreal.

Professor Kim’s constant reminder to “dress professionally” echoed in your mind as you tugged at the fitted oxford grey long-sleeve top you wore. The black slacks and boots completed the look, giving you an air of confidence you weren’t entirely sure you felt. Looking the part seemed to be half the battle.

As you approached the media center, you spotted Joohyun waiting by the room door, looking effortlessly composed in a black V-neck sweater tucked into sleek black pants, her low-heeled boots completing the outfit. If Steve Jobs had gone full-on fashion icon, it would be Joohyun. She looked like a young hot CEO of a multibillion-dollar company.

You swallowed hard, trying to calm your racing heart.

Just as you reached for the door, you heard Changmin’s voice behind you.

“Well, don’t you two look serious,” he said with a playful grin, his coffee mug firmly in hand.

Your face flushed instantly, caught off guard by his teasing. He shot you a knowing wink before heading off, leaving you feeling like he knew far more about your situation than you’d ever told him.

You quickly composed yourself and opened the door, motioning for Joohyun to go in first. “After you,” you said, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

“Thanks,” Joohyun replied, offering you a kind smile as she stepped inside.

You let out a small breath of relief as you followed her into the room, shutting the door behind you. The room was quiet, the snacks laid out neatly on the table, and you both settled in quickly, exchanging small talk on the way. Despite your best efforts to stay calm, Joohyun’s presence had you on edge. It wasn’t that you were inexperienced, you’d done countless interviews before, but interviewing her made it different.

After a minute of organizing your notes, you glanced at Joohyun and noticed something that surprised you. She was fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, her fingers twisting the fabric, and she shifted in her seat. For someone who always seemed so poised, she looked nervous herself.

You hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, deciding to take a chance. “Hey, are you okay? You seem a little… on edge.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’m not used to doing interviews, especially with someone who’s clearly experienced and really good at what they do.”

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “You’re nervous because of me?”

She nodded, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “Yeah, kind of. You’ve done this a lot, and I’m still figuring things out. Plus, Professor Kim seems to think highly of you, so there’s a bit of pressure.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Joohyun, the campus queen, nervous because of you? The thought was almost unreal, and yet here she was, feeling the same way you had when you first saw her name on the slip of paper.

You chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “Trust me, I’m still figuring things out too. Actually…” You hesitated for a second, nerves bubbling up as you decided whether or not to tell her the story. But seeing her this vulnerable made you want to take the chance. “If you’re up for it, I can tell you about the first time I interviewed someone.”

Joohyun looked intrigued, so you continued, even though the story still made you cringe a little. “It was for the school paper during my first year. I was interviewing one of the professors for a feature piece, and I was so nervous, but he reassured me that I wouldn’t do a bad job. So, I got comfortable eventually. We sat there for probably twenty minutes, and I thought I was being all professional, nodding along and asking good questions. Then I realized the recorder wasn’t even on.”

Joohyun’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward with a wide grin. “Oh god, what did you do?”

“I panicked,” you chuckled, feeling more relaxed now that she was laughing. “I didn’t want to ask him to do the whole thing again, so I tried to rely on my notes, but they were a mess. It was awful. So, I asked for another interview, but he wasn’t exactly enthused about it.”

Joohyun was laughing fully now, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s amazing. I would’ve died.”

“I almost did,” you said, joining in her laughter. “So, if I can survive that, you can survive this. Trust me.”

The tension between you eased as Joohyun relaxed, her shoulders no longer hunched and her fingers no longer fidgeting with her sweater. “Thanks for sharing that,” she said, still smiling. “I guess I was overthinking it.”

You nodded, smiling warmly. “You’re going to do great. And we’re just practicing, right? I’m here to help.”

The interview started smoothly after that. Joohyun’s answers were thoughtful and personal. She talked about psychology and why she was drawn to it, places she’s traveled, and how she balanced her academics with her extracurriculars. She mentioned how photography was a way for her to decompress, especially when she captured photos of the sky and nature, and how there was a small garden on campus that was her favorite spot to think.

By the time it was her turn to interview you, she was much more confident. Her questions were unpresumptuous and relevant. They were about why you chose journalism, what kept you motivated when things got tough, and what got you into photography yourself.

“I saw some of your nature shots,” Joohyun said, her voice thoughtful. “They seem to be mostly pictures taken on hiking trips, is that right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of a side hobby. It helps me clear my head.”

As she listened carefully to you, you could see her growing more comfortable in the journalist role. By the time the interview wrapped up, the room felt lighter, and you were both sighing with relief.

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” you teased, packing up your notes.

Joohyun smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxed. “You’re really good at making people feel comfortable. I wasn’t expecting that,” she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. Then, realizing how it might sound, she quickly added, “Not that I didn’t think you could! I just didn’t expect it to be so… easy.”

You blinked, a bit taken aback by her sudden fluster. “Oh, don’t worry. I didn’t take it that way at all,” you reassured her. “I’m just glad I could help. And honestly, you did really well too.”

At that, Joohyun’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she let out a small, relieved laugh.

As you both stood to leave, you held the door open for her again, and she glanced back at you with a grateful smile. “Thanks again. Really.”

You returned the gesture, feeling a warm sense of connection. “Anytime.”

As Joohyun walked out, you couldn’t help but feel that things had shifted slightly between you. It wasn’t just about the interview anymore…

After a discussion with Professor Kim and Changmin, you’d finally settled on the next direction of your soccer story. It wasn’t what you had originally planned, but both of them had made a compelling case. A feature on Minho. You’d dig into his struggles growing up and his rise through adversity. It would create the kind of emotional connection that any solid piece of journalism needed. The story wasn’t just solely about soccer anymore. It was the kind of personal journey that would resonate with the audience.

You knew it was great for your portfolio too. It was exactly the type of human-interest story that could set you apart when applying for future jobs. You agreed to it, even though the idea of digging deeper into Minho’s life, with your feelings for Joohyun lurking in the background, made you a little uncomfortable. You could handle this professionally though. You had to.

Later that day, after his practice with the soccer team, you spotted Minho chatting with some of his teammates near the field. Taking a deep breath, you approached him.

“Minho,” you called out, waving slightly as you approached.

He turned to you, a welcoming smile already in place. “Hey! What’s up?”

You adjusted your bag, feeling the weight of it on your shoulder as you tried to keep your tone casual. “I wanted to talk to you about a potential story for the school radio.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “I was thinking about doing a feature on you. Something about you and not just soccer, how you’ve gotten to where you are now. I think it would be a really strong piece, but only if you’re up for it, of course.”

Minho’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely surprised. “Wow. I don’t know what to say… I mean, I’d be honored. But really? A story on me?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. I think people would really connect with it.”

He seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded slowly. “If you think it’s a good idea, then I’m in.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Great. I’ll start pulling things together soon, and we can schedule some time for interviews.”

Minho smiled humbly, “Sounds good. Thanks for thinking of me. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” you said, giving him a nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

After getting his contact info, you met up with Yerim at a nearby bar, ready to drink away some of the tension that had been building all week. Three shots in, you were starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol loosening up your thoughts. Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You saw Joohyun’s name, and your heart did its usual happy flip. You quickly swiped to read her message.

Joohyun (9:17 pm): Hey, when do you want to meet to go over what we should report on from our interviews? I was thinking we could talk about it next week?

You exhaled slowly, the thrill of seeing her name making you grin. Joohyun texting first? A miracle. Her message was all business, which was its own kind of reality check, but hey, she was the one messaging you, and right now, that felt like something.

You had thought about meeting her at one specific place, but that was sober you and you didn’t have the guts to ask. However, with a little liquid courage coursing through your veins, you typed back, smirking to yourself.

You (9:19 pm) Nxt week sounds good, but I have an idea.. wanna go to that boba place on main st. aftr class on monday?

Satisfied, you hit send and dropped the phone back into your pocket, telling yourself you were such a genius for thinking of a way to spend more time with Joohyun, completely unaware of the grave you were digging for yourself…

To be continued...

#irene x reader #bae joohyun x reader #red velvet imagines

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