#I have so many stupid questions about these movies

[battlekidx2]

“Do you like girls?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you like boys?”

“I don’t know. I think I like TV shows.”

I remember when I was in middle school all the other girls were talking about the guys they liked and I said I didn’t like anyone. I just wanted to do my own thing.

I didn’t really get why I would want to date anyone. I understood friendship, companionship— having someone to share my interests and mutually info dump to sounded cool— but I struggled to understand the appeal of spending every day and every night with someone else. Of holding hands and going on dates. 

This led to a lot of homophobic bullying and a few of them would act disgusted that I might be into them. Constantly acting like I was looking at their boobs and sexualizing them (I never made eye contact with anyone and would frequently look at the wall or space out while looking in their general direction). Or make a big show of not being interested and many other things.

I didn’t get this either. I didn’t know why I would be interested in any of them. They treated me poorly and I thought attraction was something people made up and simply just claimed to feel towards other people.

Just like I never understood celebrity crushes. You don’t know the person so how could you possibly know you liked them? And I never understood how people “chose” who they dated. Did they just choose whoever they liked hanging out with the most?

But any time I voiced this it was always met with worse and worse reactions. It led to isolation among peers and my family. My parents made it pretty clear I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. That I wasn’t normal.

I soon learned to fake it. Pretend I understood it.

The idea of not being attracted to anyone seemed like a foreign idea to most people I met. Even when I branched out and moved away, I met a few people in the lgbt community who couldn’t grasp it either and reacted poorly and it made me feel stupid. Like maybe I wasn’t just screwed up to people who fit in the neat little box society wants you to fit in, but to everyone else as well.

Maybe I was wrong. If it’s an impossibility even in this community that champions diversity and acceptance then can that really be my reality?

I kept trying to force it. To date, but every time I did I always felt that same skin crawling discomfort and it always petered out. It didn’t matter who it was or what gender. It always felt wrong. It was suffocating.

I don’t think there’s a movie that better portrays that all consuming, suffocating stagnation of feeling so out of place– knowing you’re out of place compared to those around you– and in response forcing yourself to fit what other people expect of you than I Saw the TV Glow.

Whenever I think back to growing up or whenever I return home that same feeling this movie is centered around always drenches my experiences.

And even now it’s hard to put into words when I talk to other people what I’ve felt when it comes to this aspect of my life.

That comment from Owen about knowing there’s nothing there when talking about romance and attraction, but being too afraid to look and knowing that his parents know something is wrong with him hit harder than any other scene from a movie I’ve watched this year.

It’s that absence of something that is at the heart of asexuality that makes me always question what I choose to identify as when I have to explain it to someone. Because for the most part my explanation boils down to (in broad oversimplified terms): I’ve never felt attraction, I’m more interested in watching a Spider-Man movie than I’ve ever been into even just the idea of dating, every time I’ve attempted to date it’s been uncomfortable and I’ve actively dodged anything beyond friendship while in the “relationship”.

And when I try to voice that to another person it always feels like those experiences don’t hold water. That’s describing the absence of something. There’s no real proof of the identity.

With being bi or gay or lesbian there’s something you can I don’t know—point to?— that can help you know your identity.

And that’s the fact that you’ve experienced attraction towards one or more people of one or more genders.

It’s defined not by the lack of something but the presence of an experience.

And so every time I try and explain it I end up feeling stupid. Like I just haven’t tried hard enough to find someone compatible. That I need to get back into the proverbial saddle and try again. I always in some way feel ashamed and backtrack as a result.

This is in no way to say that it’s harder or easier to be one identity or the another. Everyone’s experiences are different and everyone experiences are valid. This is just a struggle I’ve found that’s unique to asexuality that many people I’ve talked to have also experienced.

I haven’t felt that part of my experience be seen in media until I saw this movie. Maybe I’m latching onto what I can get or maybe that was an intrinsic part of the movie. That’s not important. What’s important is that it’s something I felt seen in even if it was literally just one scene.

This is my really long winded and roundabout way of saying that I really think this movie is going to stick with me much longer than any other thing I’ve seen this year.

Things can be hard to put into words and as a result I tend to keep things inside. I’m fairly certain I’m ace but it might turn out I’m on a different romantic spectrum then I thought or I fall somewhere different than I thought on the ace spectrum. I don’t know what I’ll discover in the future.

I’m likely not going to express my label out loud to anyone but a select few. I still can’t express this particular label out loud to many people. My family is definitely never going to hear it. A friend or two might.

It’s something I struggle with on a regular basis. I’m fine with identifying with the label in my head—in a lot of ways it makes me feel comfortable and happy— but any time I try to voice it the words die in my throat and I can’t help but feel ashamed. It’s easier to just tell people I don’t want to date right now. That there are all these factors in the way (finances, time, jobs, etc) than it is to try and explain what I’ve just rambled about above.

I know many people have felt and understood that experience and I hope people know they’re valid. You can express your identity with your full chest, shout it from the rooftops and let people know, or you can keep it to yourself, identifying as your label solely in your head. Both experiences are valid. And if your label changes at some point in your life that doesn’t make what you chose to identify as at this point any less valid too. People are always learning and growing. You can gain a new understanding of yourself as time move forward.

Sorry for the way too long ramble. This movie made me feel things.

[sysmedsaresexist]

I do not mean to sound stupid, but I read your post "dissociation is not solely trauma-based", and I was wondering if you knew of any sources or books about it? I think I don't fully understand what dissociation is. For exemple, no matter how I look at it, I don't understand how meditation could be considered like anything close to dissociation, simply because it's also used as a grounding technique.

I'm combining two asks here, because I'm going to cover both in one go :) you don't sound stupid.

You've got to start with the understanding that dissociation is a continuum from normal (aka nonpathological) to "abnormal" (I hate that word, but aka pathological). I finally dropped the wild existence of Dr Jamie Marich, clinical trauma specialist and a pro endo, CDD system, who wrote Dissociation Made Simple. Let me quote because the book is actually good.

Yes, dissociation is so hard to understand that she wrote an entire book about the concept.

"The English word dissociation comes from the Latin root dissociātiō, meaning “to sever” or “to separate.” At this point when lecturing, I usually ask my students: What are we severing or separating from when we dissociate? You may take a moment, before reading on, to ask this question of yourself. Try not to think on it too rationally. Listen to your gut-level response...

For the purposes of this opening chapter, let’s focus on the form of separation that every human being can likely relate to —severing or separating from the present moment—especially when the present moment becomes unpleasant, overwhelming, or otherwise painful."

Dissociation is a disconnect from something-- this can be memories, thoughts, emotions, or, in worst cases, reality. The present moment.

Not all meditation is dissociative, but most is. For example, emptiness meditation is about disconnecting from everything in the moment. You are literally fine-tuning your dissociative techniques. This is also true when you're using grounding meditation to disconnect from overwhelming emotions or thoughts to get back into the moment.

There are a variety of tasks that we either develop naturally or learn as a way to achieve some degree of separation (e.g., enough to stay somewhat present but still get some relief, or going further into totally cutting oneself off from in-the-moment presence). Dissociation of this nature is not all or nothing—it generally happens in degrees and can depend upon how much distress you feel in any given context. We can do this by daydreaming, drifting off, zoning out, zoning inward, disengaging eye contact with people, losing focus (especially when driving), or getting a little floaty in many other life circumstances. Some people frame this “floatiness” as similar to hypnotic trance and others feel it is quite distinct. We may even take deliberate steps to enhance the experience of separation. How often have you escaped into a book or a movie, into your phone or computer, or into some activity, because it makes the harshness of dealing with the present moment and the emotions it can elicit somewhat more bearable?

Let me be very clear, if you said yes to this question, this answer does not mean that there is anything wrong with you! All of these can be quite ordinary forms of dissociation that every human being is capable of experiencing.

A really, really good way to understand this concept is actually through maladaptive daydreaming (MADD), a highly addictive form of dissociation.

Indeed for many of us, substances or other behaviors that cause major surges of dopamine (e.g., spending, computer games, sexually acting out) can become the accelerant of dissociation...

Whenever we become accustomed to dissociating, especially as children growing up in complex trauma, our brain becomes bonded or some would even say addicted to that state of escape. Once chemical or other reinforcing behaviors are introduced to us, they can accelerate that already familiar experience and we become further bonded to that behavior.

Daydreaming itself is dissociative. Point blank. It is both the most normal kind of dissociation, and yet the most common maladaptive dissociation.

Daydreaming and journeying into my head’s imaginative scenarios is another series of behaviors that can have both adaptive and maladaptive qualities. As a kid, they kept me safe. As an adult, they are the source of so much of my creative power—yet if I engage them too long, too hard, or too much, I run the risk of getting lost and not being able to attend to what helping professionals might call my activities of daily living (e.g., eating properly, sleeping, taking good care of myself, getting to work, attending to loved ones appropriately and with good boundaries).

Let's cut away from the book really quickly to look at Eli Somer, the guy who came up with MADD.

Maladaptive daydreaming is a dissociative disorder: Supporting evidence and theory.

The only real thing I want to quote is:

Although trauma may be one causal factor, we indicate several other etiological pathways to the development of MD. We discuss associations with related concepts and suggest directions for future research.

And

MD is strongly related to dissociation and seems to rely on an innate tendency for absorptive and imaginative fantasy. Through its rewarding properties, this form of immersive daydreaming becomes abnormal. MD may thus be viewed as a disordered form of dissociative absorption.

While Somer talks about how it can be a behavioral addiction in that paper, I find this is a more succinct description.

Maladaptive Daydreaming: Epidemiological Data on a Newly Identified Syndrome

Maladaptive Daydreaming (MD) is a proposed mental disorder characterized by excessive, compulsive immersion in vivid and complex fantastical daydreamed plots, generating intense emotional involvement, often accompanied by stereotypical movements. This addictive absorption in daydreaming becomes maladaptive as it consumes many hours a day, generates shame or guilt, hinders achievement of short- and long-term goals or tasks, and overall causes clinically significant distress and/or interferes with functioning in social or occupational realms. Maladaptive Daydreamers (MDers) report a strong urge to daydream whenever they can and annoyance whenever they cannot, and, repeated unsuccessful efforts to control, cut back, or stop daydreaming, like other behavioral addictions.

And that's the best way to look at DID and other maladaptive, pathological forms of dissociation. It's a behavioral addiction, an escape that we not only crave, but can no longer live without. Just like you can get addicted to working out and gambling, you can become addicted to severing ties with reality through pleasurable (and in some cases, necessary) forms of escape.

I don't know if this is going to make sense, but I've found looking at dissociation like an upside-down iceberg helps me.

At the top, the widest part, is everyone on the planet, and the basic, general concept of dissociation. Severing from the present moment, be it through your phone, book, daydreaming, meditation, zoning out.

As you go down, and it gets narrower, it becomes more important to put names to specific types and forms of dissociation, and fewer people struggle with these forms. In the middle is a confusing mix of seemingly normal and pathological dissociation. You have mediumship, authors with living characters, OCD (yup), ADHD (shocking, I know), MADD, DPDR, (C)PTSD, people on the edge of forming behavioral addictions.

At the bottom, the smallest point, only pathological dissociation, with a much smaller population experiencing it. DID, OSDD, severe and chronic DPDR, DA.

For people that struggle with dissociation... they fell down a hole and travelled all the way to the bottom of the iceberg. What was once a general, normal, human experience became a very specific problem. Over the years, as they travelled deeper, they used and developed a complex mix of various normal dissociative reactions until it eventually became a named, pathological experience.

I sincerely hope that this helps explain and answers both questions ):

Here's another really interesting paper (from none other than, DUNDUNDUN, Colin Ross).

Maladaptive Daydreaming, Dissociation, and the Dissociative Disorders

[godofstupidsentences]

Really enjoyed Dune II but while watching I just couldn’t stop thinking about how they were too scared to show how tf they get down from from those fucking worms

[bernthalized]

Not sure about Sharp Stick despite the Jon eyecandy but am I the inly one sick of Hollywood pairing young women with guys almost twice their age??! Christine F is 26 an looks like 12 while Jon is 45!? I love him but this needs to stop

I don't want ppl to reblog my... idk what to call it so pls read tags (at your own risk skskksjsjk)

[gimmethatagustd]

morals on sundays | myg

You're still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

○ Pairing: BFF!Yoongi x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Friends with benefits, angst, smut, fluff

○ 6 / 100 Drabble Challenge (FWB)

○ Word Count: 2,177

○ Warnings: MC's boyfriend cheated on her, post-breakup blues, questionable decision making, fingering so good you'll try to run away from it, pussy eating, too much tongue sucking probably, Yoongi is a boob guy, they have matching Spongebob and Patrick coffee mugs so why aren't they married?? Idiots

○ Notes: Shout out to @sailoryooons for also writing about a daegu boy eating pussy tonight 😌 And, as usual, I wrote this with scrambled eggs for brains and didn't proofread it, so if you see any errors, no you didn't

○ Post Date: January 22, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? Imported - Jessie Reyez ft. 6LACK

Lately, you’ve felt like disappearing – not into a crowded city street in another country or down an unlit dirt road into the unknown, but into the warm folds of Yoongi’s hoodie. You’re already halfway there, with your fingers interlaced with his, shoved into the large front pocket, and your face tucked into his shoulder. 

“Fuck, I hate taking the bus,” he curses, his words turning into a cloud that disappears into the cold air. 

“How much time do we have?” 

Yoongi turns his head, and his lips briefly touch the cold curve of your ear. 

“You’re mumbling. What’d you say?”

“How much time until it comes?” You squint up at him, cheek still pressed against his shoulder. It’s too warm here to want to move. 

“Can’t check the app on my phone unless you give me my hands.” 

“No.” 

Yoongi chuckles and jostles your head by bobbing his shoulders. 

“I thought our date would cheer you up.” His complaint is playful, eyes sparkling in the streetlights when he returns his gaze to the empty road. You should have gotten a taxi. 

“I’m gonna die alone. Doesn’t matter how much late-night pizza I eat or how many stupid action movies I watch,” you grumble into Yoongi’s shoulder. 

“Even when the action movie lead has a super hot sex scene that’s poorly timed and irrelevant to the plot?” 

“Nope.”

“Even when the coolest guy on the entire planet was the one who took you?” Yoongi smiles cheekily, his gaze back on you. He wiggles his shoulders again, hard enough to bounce your head. 

Annoyed, you straighten up, hands still shoved in his pockets. The movie wasn’t that bad. The pizza was actually great. You’re just depressed. 

“I didn’t think it would take this long…” You whisper into the little space between your body and Yoongi’s. He knows you aren’t talking about the bus. 

Yoongi squeezes your hands inside his hoodie. The rest of you might be freezing in the winter night air, but at least Yoongi keeps your hands warm. He keeps your heart warm, too, with his sincere gaze when he looks at you. 

“You were too good for him.” 

Yoongi’s right. He’s always right. 

You’re sufficiently frozen by the time the bus finally arrives. Yoongi pays for you both because he’s trying to make life easy. No bumps in the road, no unnecessary stress. He lets you sit in a window seat so you can stare out at the blurry night scenery and have your sad main character moment for as long as it takes to get to your apartment. 

Once you arrive, he follows you inside and heads straight to the kitchen while you slump down the hall to your bedroom. The cold seeps so deeply into your bones that the sweatpants and sweater you change into barely help increase your body temperature. 

Maybe it’s because the sweatpants and sweater are your ex-boyfriend’s, and the universe wants to keep your body as cold as his heart was. 

In the kitchen, Yoongi uses a wooden spoon to stir hot chocolate in a small pot, your favorite kind that comes in a block of chocolate that melts with milk. It’s likely been years since Yoongi has made you hot chocolate. Cozy winter nights indoors were once commonplace, the two of you alternating between apartments to make each other snacks and treat cuddles like currency. The appearance of your ex put an end to the comfort you shared with Yoongi. It put an end to most things that brought you comfort. 

As you expect, Yoongi has two mugs out on the counter. You reach for yours, twisting it in your hands as you wait for him to finish. 

“Remember when Spongebob tried to become best friends with Squidward instead of Patrick?” Yoongi asks, turning off the stove. He uses a ladle to pour hot chocolate into his pink mug, then pours some into your yellow one. 

“Yes.” 

“He was Squidward. I’m just mad I didn’t get to blow up his house–” Yoongi laughs and nearly spills his drink when you smack him in the arm, “–with bubbles! With bubbles. I’m not homicidal.” 

Rolling your eyes, you set down your mug next to Yoongi’s, both drinks too hot to drink quickly. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, hooking your finger into his hoodie pocket and tugging lightly, the action absentminded. You keep your eyes cast downward because you don’t want him to see your tears if they run. “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a shitty mood. I know it’s been a while, but, it just… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about him, and everything fucking hurts…” 

Yoongi slips his fingers under your sleeve and circles your wrist, pulling your hand away from his pocket so he can lace your fingers together. They’re so much warmer now, defrosted by the heat blasting through your apartment and Yoongi’s hot chocolate. 

“Maybe you could start by not wearing his clothes?” Yoongi offers quietly. “Can’t imagine it’s easy to get over someone when you keep them on your body like that.” 

You sniffle and nod. Again, Yoongi is always right. 

“Easier said than done…” you mumble, giving him a weak smile when you finally meet his eyes. There’s something there in his expression, something that seems different. 

You don’t move away when Yoongi steps closer, even when he has you backed against the counter, even when you feel like you’re going to swallow your heart. 

“I could take them off for you,” Yoongi says softly. He lets go of your sleeve to pinch the hem of your sweater, tugging it lightly. “If you can’t do it, I can.” 

“Yeah?” You feel out of breath, maybe because you suck in your stomach when Yoongi’s fingers brush against it. 

“Yeah,” he echoes, fingers sliding along your ribs as he pushes your sweater up. “So you can get over him.” 

It’s a terrible idea, but your stomach flutters when he looks at you with sleepy eyes weighed down by the late hour and lust. He bites his bottom lip, and you feel your resolve slip as easily as Yoongi’s fingers do beneath your clothes. 

“I want to.” The declaration is desperate, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare into Yoongi’s eyes with an all-consuming sadness that eats at your insides, gnawing on bones and biting holes into your lungs. “God, Yoongi, I want to.” 

Yoongi touches his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes because he’s too close and you’re too much of a coward. 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. His voice is as gentle as his hands on your bare waist, his thumbs caressing your sensitive skin. 

You raise your arms for Yoongi to pull off your sweater. He’s confident when he squeezes your tits, doesn’t even seem caught off guard when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under the sweater. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples as he leans in to kiss you, his tongue tasting sweet from the hot chocolate when he flicks it against yours. 

“Yoongi,” you call out with an airy sigh that harmonizes nicely with the sound of him sucking open-mouthed kisses down your neck. 

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums against the base of your throat, the vibration sending a tingling sensation straight to your clit. He keeps one hand on the counter beside your waist, caging you in, while his other hand cups your pussy over your sweatpants. 

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands immediately finding Yoongi’s firm shoulders when he starts rubbing your clit, occasionally dipping his fingers lower to press against your entrance, soaking the fabric. 

“These are his, too, right?” 

“Y-yes,” you moan as Yoongi pulls down your sweatpants, taking your underwear with them. 

You can’t say you never thought about how attractive Yoongi is; it’s hard to ignore. It’s just that Yoongi is your best friend. If anything were to happen between the two of you, you don’t know if you’d be able to survive losing him, too. You love him. 

But you also love your ex. 

It’s hard to think about that, though, with two of Yoongi’s fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. They’re long, reaching deeper than your own can when you finger yourself, always late at night when you’re lonely. It never feels good after. The clarity always seems to hit too quickly, like being dunked in a pool of ice water. 

Three months. That’s how long it’s been since another person touched you, since you found out your ex-boyfriend had been cheating on you. You didn’t realize how much you missed it until you’ve got your head thrown back and your thighs quivering as Yoongi fucks you with his fingers. You nearly climb up the counter, both wanting him to touch you more and trying to get away because it’s too good. 

Your ex never searched for the spot that would make your legs shake, but Yoongi does. He curls his fingers against your front wall and keeps up his rhythm, moving with your body when you can’t control where it goes. 

“Fuck, right there.” You’re burning up, veins turned to lava that’s rushing toward your core as Yoongi fucks you closer and closer to your orgasm until you’re on the verge of tears because you haven’t been touched in so long and you’re so lonely and you weren’t good enough. You weren’t enough. 

“Wanna make you cum,” Yoongi groans, deep and gravelly, between licking a stripe up your tits and sucking your nipples. 

“Please,” you moan, “Please, I’m so close.” 

Your arousal gushes around his fingers, slicking them up and making your pussy squelch when Yoongi flutters them inside you. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, almost too hard. It stops you from bucking your hips, but you can barely stand as it is. 

Yoongi’s lips are back on yours, red from sucking your nipples until it hurt. He whispers against your lips and opens his mouth to let you suck on his tongue with a pathetic whimper. 

“Not yet, though.” 

“Wha– Yoongi, no–” It’s embarrassing how loudly you cry out when Yoongi slips his fingers out of your pussy. You feel the fire in your core simmer until you’re left with a painfully throbbing clit and your juices smeared on your inner thighs. 

“Shhh, you know I always take care of you.” Yoongi shuts you up with a bite to your bottom lip. He leans down slightly to squeeze the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto the counter. “Lean back.” 

The cold marble counter sends shivers across your body, but it can’t keep up with the heat of Yoongi’s mouth on your pussy. He kisses your lips so gently that you think you might actually cry before he pushes your thighs back, opening you up. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan as Yoongi goes straight for your clit, sucking on it as he swirls his tongue around it. You dig your hands into his hair and tug the strands hard enough to make him moan into your pussy. “Use your, use–” 

Yoongi laps at your clit in quick, consistent bursts that fall in line with the tempo he’s fucking you to with two fingers again. His free hand presses against your lower abdomen, keeping your body taunt so you don’t buck into his face or curl inward. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop your legs from shaking when one rests on his shoulder and the other drapes over the crook of his arm. 

It’s messy and loud, Yoongi licking and sucking your pussy like he really is trying to empty your mind of everything but the way the tip of his hot, wet tongue feels swirling your clit and the stretch of his fingers when he slips a third inside you and focuses on massaging the sensitive part of your walls. It’s working. He completely consumes your senses, down to how gorgeous he looks staring at you from between your thighs. 

Your Yoongi, fingerfucking you and sucking your clit like you’re his favorite meal. 

You try not to bang your head against the counter when you finally cum, instead focusing the overwhelming energy into pulling Yoongi’s hair to keep his face in your pussy.

He continues fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, to the point that you can’t lie still any longer. 

“Yoongi, oh my god, Yoongi, it’s too much,” you whimper and gasp, thighs closing around his head until he finally eases his fingers out of you. 

Strings of your arousal connect his lips with your pussy until he swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, cutting them off. His bangs are pushed off his forehead and his hair sticks up from you pulling on it, but his eyes sparkle and his cheeks are just as rosy as his pink, slicked-up lips. 

“Shit,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning over you on the counter to kiss you. He shoves his tongue in your mouth and lets you suck your juices from it. 

You think you taste better on Yoongi’s tongue than on your ex’s. 

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here. 

@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum @dprmoon @chimmisbae

[withahappyrefrain]

Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd

Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.

Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.

Words: 4.8K

This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!

When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 

“God, I wish that were me.”

It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 

But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 

It also brought up many questions. 

Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 

Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 

All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 

Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 

Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 

The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 

“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”

“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 

“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”

“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”

“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”

Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 

At least that's what the other thought. 

It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 

“Been awhile?” 

And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 

“Try never.” 

It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 

“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 

“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 

You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 

You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 

“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 

Darn those long limbs. 

“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 

“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 

Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 

College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 

And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 

Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 

“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 

Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 

You rubbed your thighs together. 

“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 

Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 

Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 

Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 

“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 

His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 

Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 

“You…like doing it?” 

The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 

It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 

He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 

“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 

“You don't have to wait.” 

The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 

But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 

You heard me. 

“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 

Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 

“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 

“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 

All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 

Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 

The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 

For what, you couldn't tell. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Do you want it to be different?” 

What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?

“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 

He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”

He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  

“I asked you second, Robby.”

Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 

“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 

It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 

He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 

“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 

But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 

Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 

“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 

Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 

“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 

It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 

When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 

“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 

Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 

It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 

“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 

“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 

“God, you have terrible taste in men.”

You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 

How could he do that so quickly? 

He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 

When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 

Thank god your parents were on vacation. 

His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 

“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 

“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 

But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 

“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  

He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 

Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 

“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”

“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 

His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 

Good. 

You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 

God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 

And he had just gotten started. 

He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 

But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 

The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.

“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 

“Robby.” 

To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 

Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 

A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 

Was he this thick elsewhere?

You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 

Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 

You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 

But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 

He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 

Why did either of you wait this long? 

You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 

But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 

When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 

He really did enjoy it.

“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 

Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.

Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 

You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 

His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 

The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 

“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 

Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 

Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 

How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 

Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 

Jesus Christ, he was huge. 

“Fuck, she was right.” 

Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 

“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 

Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 

“I….we can unpack this later-” 

You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 

Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 

Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 

“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 

Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 

“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 

Darlin. You were his darlin. 

He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 

Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 

Even he didn't know when he would return home. 

It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 

“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 

His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 

“I don't want you to go.” 

“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 

“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 

“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 

Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 

“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 

“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 

Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 

Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 

He was going to need it for the next few months. 

Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 

“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 

The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 

“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 

Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.

“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 

Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 

Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 

“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 

Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 

His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 

You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 

It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 

Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 

“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 

Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 

But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 

His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 

That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 

But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 

“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 

Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 

Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 

The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 

His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 

You’d be a damn fool to. 

The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 

After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 

Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 

You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 

He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 

“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 

“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 

The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 

The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 

Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.

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

@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky

[onlyseokmins]

size matters • l.c.

Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬

"I'm worried my dick's too big."

Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.

He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.

And no one wants that.

"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."

Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow —  but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression. 

He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.

"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"

"You're drunk."

"So are you." 

Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.

"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."

You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."

"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."

Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?" 

"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…" 

You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows? 

He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."

"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."

"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."

"You know I'm not!"

"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."

Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"

"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."

Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs. 

"Are you flaccid right now?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."

He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."

"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression. 

"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.

"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"

Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him. 

"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"

"Well, those are toys and uh… my big dick is simply what it is. A big, regular human dick. Nothing fancy."

"Then you should try harder."

He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together. 

Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you. 

Like always.

Except it's not.

All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick! 

You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.

"Am I boring you, baby?"

"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"

He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"

"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."

"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."

"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."

"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"

Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."

"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.

You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"

"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man. 

That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.

"Ah, well, so do I!" 

Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.

Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now. 

While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips. 

"I wanna go home."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feel like leaving."

He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"Ooh… are you jealous?"

"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."

"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."

His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.

Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure. 

Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.

"You want to go to my place?"

"Yeah."

He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"

"Sure. Maybe condoms too."

"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"

Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it. 

There's no one there, of course.

"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."

"You do? Good."

"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"

Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"

"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"

"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."

His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"

"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"

One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."

"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."

He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"

"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"

"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?" 

Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!" 

"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."

Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier. 

But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly? 

He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Your pussy has too?"

"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."

"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"

And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.

Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.

He needs to get home fast. Now.

The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.

"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."

The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in. 

"No. You have to wait."

"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."

"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"

You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood. 

He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.

"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."

His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore. 

"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.

"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."

"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."

Neither one of you care. 

In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future. 

Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth. 

"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."

Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you. 

Oh, you cannot wait.

He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!

Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.

Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall. 

"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will." 

Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.

"C'mon bestie, please."

"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."

"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"

Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face. 

"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"

His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt. 

"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.

And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.

The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight. 

Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.

"You can't make me cum."

"What? Why? Need to stretch — "

"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"

"God, yes."

You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."

Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.

It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.

He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.

Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.

There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face. 

It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.

And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it. 

The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material. 

Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.

You're on the brink of climaxing.

And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.

Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.

He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle. 

"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.

"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."

"Can't believe you didn't rip them."

"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.

"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"

"Huh?"

It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."

With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.

"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."

"You love it."

"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."

You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.

"Someone's full of surprises."

"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."

Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "

"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy." 

You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.

His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.

It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.

"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.

You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.

It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate. 

Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.

He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.

It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.

"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."

"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"

"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"

You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips. 

"Mhm… yeah."

"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"

"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"

"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"

"Mhmph! More… more!"

A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength. 

Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.

He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.

Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.

"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"

Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.

"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."

"All… all for you!"

Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"

Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.

That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!" 

His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.

"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."

You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."

"That's not how it works."

Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it. 

You're honestly a little offended. 

He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock. 

Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot. 

You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible. 

"Good thing I'm flexible." 

"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut." 

"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — " 

You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall. 

"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."

What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue. 

To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core. 

Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal. 

But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.

Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you. 

It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"

And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.

White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays. 

Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.

"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."

He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.

Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring. 

Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.

It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.

"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.

He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion. 

Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.

There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."

"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."

"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"

"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."

"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."

"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."

It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.

"So, you're mine now too?"

"If that's okay with you."

And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter.  After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.

onlyseokmins: June 2023 ©

[keery0s]

pretty boy

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

prompt: steve isn’t used to the reader’s compliments

warnings: smut (18+) • masturbation (m) • handjob • sub steve (kinda) • friends to lovers sorta

word count: 1.4k

notes: this is kinda rushed srry

You can’t help but giggle as Steve struts out of the dressing room, his ego much larger than you anticipated. You had dragged Steve to the mall, convincing him a new wardrobe would finally get him the girlfriend he’s been so desperately searching for. You didn’t mean to make fun of his stride but you always saw right through the facade. The man was much dorkier than he looked, his ineptness masked by beauty.

“I knew you were fucking with me!” He pouts as he struggles to tug the denim vest from his shoulders.

“Steeeeve I’m sorry!” you laugh as you spring to your feet, trying to get the garment back onto him. “It looks good!” You truly meant it, though the smirk across your face didn’t help him believe that.

“The constant tormenting really isn’t good for this friendship.” He quips.

“I mean it Steve! You look pretty.” you smile, patting him on the shoulder before sitting back down. Steve scratches his head, confusion now replacing his previous annoyance.

“What?”

He raises a brow at you as he places his hands on his hips.

“What do you mean pretty?”

“You stupid, Harrington?

He met your gaze with a puzzled expression, not quite used to your compliments. Steve had been called many things but pretty was not one of them until now. He felt a little strange, a flutter in his stomach growing as he sat down.

“Pretty like….a girl, pretty?”

“If you wanna take it that way Steve! Now are you gonna buy that or what?” You sigh, sick of his fixation on a single word. He huffs, taking the vest to the register before making his way out of the store.

“Whatever…”

-

Steve gulps as you start your car. For some reason he felt a little weird about you driving him home, mind still stuck on that one word. Your mutual silence and hum of the car’s engine filled the air with an unspoken tension. He felt uneasy, not wanting to look you in the eye as you nudged his arm.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” you question, slightly alarmed by his silence. You knew how much he loved to run that mouth of his.

“I just…” his voice trails off, "what did you mean by pretty?” he glances at you before placing his eyes back on the road.

“Jesus you're still thinking about that!?” you laugh, “You must’ve liked it huh?” you tease.

“N-No!” he protests, voice shaking with uncertainty. He wasn’t sure if he even believed that answer himself, face heating up as he fidgets with his fingers in his lap.

“You like it when I call you pretty, Steve?” you prod at him, amused by his nervous state.

“S-Shut up…” He breathes, face going red as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch in his jeans as he replayed your words in his head. He wasn’t used to your praise, your dynamic usually consisting of playful insults and teasing. He wasn’t sure if you actually meant the compliment, but he certainly enjoyed hearing it come out of your mouth regardless. He was thankful you weren't onto him, not noticing the bulge quickly starting to form in his pants. He lets out a shaky breath as you pull up to his house, placing his hand over his crotch to conceal his unwanted excitement.

“Can I hang out for a little? We can watch a movie or something.” you suggest as he unfastens his seatbelt.

“Nope! I’ve got an early shift at work tomorrow.” he lies, blinking nervously.

You barely have a chance to say goodbye before he slams the passenger door closed and heads for his front door, clearly in a hurry to get home. Weird.

-

Steve pants as he struggles to get out of his clothes fast enough, kicking off his shoes while simultaneously unbuttoning his pants and yanking them down his legs. He gets his shirt stuck over his head, falling to his bed blindly before successfully getting it off and throwing it across the room. He felt guilty, cock aching at the thought of you. He didn’t know why one stupid word got him so worked up. It felt so good hearing you say it…he wanted more. What else could you call him? Maybe you could touch him too, make him feel good. He finally wraps a hand around his cock, grunting as he squeezes himself. He moans your name, too caught up in his own thoughts to hear his door open.

“Steve you left your-” you gasp as you see him leaned against his headboard, dick in hand.

“What the fuck?!” He yells, throwing his blanket over his lower half. His face goes red….did you hear him?

“I- Um-” he stutters.

You toss his forgotten vest on the floor, squinting as you think about what you had just heard.

“Did you….say my name?”

“What?! No! That’s so weird that you would say that!” he scoffs. What a shitty liar. You walk over to his bed, sitting beside him. You watch as his chest rises and falls, breathing heavy from his alone time being cut short.

“It’s okay if you did Steve. It’s fine.” you reassure him. You had a strong feeling you caused this.

“Why?” he whispers as he holds his head down, struggling to make eye contact.

“Is it because of earlier?” you ask, grabbing his chin to make him look at you. A blush spreads across his face as his eyes focus on your lips. He nods,

“Yeah.” he breathes, voice quiet and cautious. he sucks in a sharp breath as you press a hand against his chest

“Tell me what you want Steve…” you whisper. You watch closely as he leans into your touch, desperate and docile. He wasn’t used to being asked what he wanted. He wasn’t used to someone being so gentle with him. He was completely in the palm of your hand.

“You want someone to take care of you Stevie?” you ask, caressing his cheek. He leans in to kiss you but you back away, leaving him unsure of what to do next.

“Lay down.” you instruct.

He leans back, head resting against his pillows as he looks up at you. His lashes flutter as his breathing quickens with anticipation. He had never really thought about you this way, but it all seemed to happen so naturally. You pull the blanket from off of him, marveling at his size as a grin tugs at your lips. You go to wrap a hand around his twitching cock, precum beading at the head. As he feels your touch, his hips immediately buck up into your grasp, a whine falling from his lips.

“Such a pretty cock, Stevie…” you tease, making his eyes squeeze shut in response to the adored word. He writhes against the bed as you stroke him slowly, back slightly arching as he tries to drive himself deeper into your hand.

“Feels good huh?” you ask. He nods in response, letting out a choked moan as he tries to speak.

“Use your words Steve.”

“Yeah…feels so good.” he breathes as he grips the bedsheets.

“Look at me.” you demand, grabbing his face with your free hand. His eyes open slowly, tears welling up in them as the pleasure grows overwhelming. You pump him faster as your eyes meet with his, a cry coming from him loudly.

“Do you wanna cum?” you ask as you wipe a tear from his cheek.

“Please–p-please” he begs, his release approaching quickly with each word from you.

“You wanna cum Steve?” you repeat in a whisper, stroking him faster as he struggles to thrust up into your hand. He’s almost over the edge, cock pulsating from his near climax. You take your hand in his as you continue to jerk him off with the other. He squeezes desperately as he finally hears it,

“Cum for me Stevie.” you plead, grip around his length tightening as he bucks into your hand one last time. His body goes tense with pleasure as the bliss of his orgasm washes over him, a cry escaping his lips. You wipe up the rest of his cum on your hand with your fingers, licking them clean as he watches you in awe. He pants as he stares at you, in shock of what had just transpired.

“Thank you…” he manages as he runs a shaky hand through his hair.

“You’re welcome, pretty boy.”

[katiemcabeswife]

Illicit Affairs

Alexia Putellas x Reader|| Alexia is pulling away from you and thinking back on all the memories, good and bad, you finally snap.

T Swizzle because I saw her live yesterday 🤗 I feel bad doing Ale like this and it’s my first time doing something like this so please nice 🤍

You sighed as Alexia pulled away, instantly reaching for a shirt to cover herself with. You turned away from her, not wanting her to see your crestfallen face after realising that this time was not unlike any others. Recently.

You hadn't noticed when it started happening, when Alexia seemed to detach and the possibility of the 2 of you going public seemed to vanish into thin air. You would come over and maybe watch a movie before the two of you would have sex and then she would dress herself and turn to face opposite you.

Make sure nobody sees you leave, hood over your head, keep your eyes down,

Sometimes she would remind you to make sure that no one saw you leave her apartment and to keep your hood over your head in case paparazzi or fans saw someone leaving her house and decided to take photos.

Tell your friends you're out for a run, you'll be flushed when you return,

If she didn't immediately turn away from you she would occasionally make a joke, asking you how your 'run' was. The joke stemmed from the time Mapi caught you leaving the bathrooms flushed and you had to come up with an excuse, claiming you had just finished running.

Take the road less travelled by,

Ona lived on the way to Ale's house and had noticed you driving past one too many times and questioned you about it, non-threateningly and unsuspecting of anything of course but Ale got angry at you claiming that you did it on purpose so you started travelling the back streets to and from her house to keep suspicions low.

Tell yourself you can always stop, what started in beautiful rooms,

You knew you weren't being treated the way you should be but you could stop if you wanted to, end the relationship and move on from Alexia and be happy. The only thing stopping you was hope, you used to catch her staring at you, dazed, from across the room and she used to make beautiful candle-lit dinners for every important date or milestone now, you were lucky if she offered left over takeout.

Ends with meetings in parking lots,

You wanted that Alexia back, you didn't want the one who drove you into a random car park to fuck you before driving you home.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

If people knew Alexia was dating you people would definitely have some not-so-nice things to say. You were, what some would call, her controversially young girlfriend being 9 years younger than her which was the ‘whole’ reason your relationship was kept secret.

And clandestine meetings and longing stares, it's born from just one single glance,

Looking back on your relationship and how the two of you used to act was like looking at an entirely different couple. You used to enjoy sneaking around with Alexia, the adrenaline it used to bring you. It reminded you of when you first met her, it was your first day at Barca and Alexia took the time and effort to greet you out the front and guide you around the training centre. You knew once you saw her standing out in the cold with that stupid, awkward smile on her face that you liked her and you couldn't help it if you wanted to.

But it dies, and it dies, and it dies, a million little times,

The age gap became evident when Alexia would call you 'kid' in front of the team and your cheeks would burn red from embarrassment, knowing it was you girlfriend, who had sex with you, that was calling you ‘kid’. Every time the nickname slipped from her lips you could feel part of your relationship dying, and your heart breaking further, into a million little pieces.

Leave the perfume on the shelf, that you picked out just for him, so you leave no trace behind like you don't even exist,

You used to enjoy doing small things for Alexia, like buying a perfume you knew she would like when she burrowed her head into the crook of your neck but something that small would be insignificant and go unnoticed now. That perfume sat on your shelf staring at you teasingly, unopened, you didn't want to wear it anymore.

Take the words for what they are a dwindling, mercurial high a drug that only worked the first few hundred times

Alexia used to do the same sort of little things, buying you flowers randomly or bringing home a little treat for you every once in a while. She continued the tradition for a year before the unpredictability of the gifts that once filled you with the warmth of love started to slowly fade away every time she told you she couldn't go on a date with you or didn't want to spend time with you.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs and clandestine meetings and stolen stares, they show their truth one single time but they lie, and they lie, and they lie, a million little times

Alexia used to be the one to plan the secret meet-ups and dates, you used to be the one catching her staring at you and now she was the one standing you up and calling you out for 'acting like a child', while she would continue to fuck you like she loved you and lie to you like they were truths.

And you wanna scream 'Don't call me "kid"'

"And I fucking hate it when you call me 'kid', Alexia! I'm supposed to be your girlfriend!" You screamed at her as tears fell down your face.

"Baby-" She tried to reach out to you.

'Don't call me "baby"', look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You took a step back and raised her pointer finger at her, "Don't fucking call me baby either," You wiped at your tears aggressively before giving up as they kept falling, "God Ale! Look at me," You sobbed, "Look at what you made me, I'm a fucking mess!" It was clear to anyone that you hadn't been sleeping or eating if someone were to walk in the room they would assume you had been punched in the eyes due to the smudged mascara surrounding your eyes.

You showed me colours you know I can't see with anyone else,

"I don't even know who you are anymore!" You could see Alexia trying to get a word in but you were filled with such sorrow it just kept flowing out of you, "You don't treat anyone in the team half as bad as you treat me and I'm your fucking girlfriend!"

"Baby-hey, we agreed that we would keep it private," She tried to reason.

'Don't call me "kid", don't call me "baby"', look at this idiotic fool that you made me, you taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else,

"I told you don't call me baby!" When you agreed to keep things private you thought that meant steering clear of PDA not keeping your entire existence a secret, "God, I am such a fucking idiot," You had learnt to dissect Ale's words after she started coding them, you could find the deeper meaning in 'compliments' and find the insult when no one else could, you could find hidden meanings behind sugar-coated words and it pained you that you were the only one who seemed to do so.

And you know damn well for you, I would ruin myself a million little times,

"I haven't slept, Ale," You looked back at her, "I haven't eaten, I've worked out more times than I can count, I have been ruining myself trying to be perfect for you. I'm trying to change myself just so you would like me again! And the saddest part is, is that I would do it a million times over because I love you!"

You had to pluck up the courage to leave as soon as the words slipped out of your mouth because you knew for the first time in almost a year, she had heard you when you told her you loved her, really heard you and you didn’t give her a chance to say it back.

[entitled-fangirl]

Sweet little nothings.

Felix Catton x reader

Summary: Felix does sweet things absentmindedly for the reader, making her fall more and more in love with him.

Words: 679

Warning: Talk of someone saying something rude, suggestive comment

Author's note: This is an ask based off of this wonderful post!

Masterlist <3

...............................................................................

“Did you eat today, angel?”

It was a genuine question, one that Felix asked often. His beautiful girl looked up from her book, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Oh, uh… I…. I don’t think so.”

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his face. She was too precious. Too sweet. She couldn’t even remember to eat she was so invested in the day’s activities. 

He stood, grabbing her wrist gently to pull her up next to him. He then pulled her against him, kissing her gently on the nose, his voice a low whisper. “D’wanna eat here or out?”

She looked up at him, meeting his pretty brown eyes with her own. “…out? I… I need out of the house… if that’s alright?”

He grinned, “That’s more than alright, angel. Go get your coat.”

She didn’t hesitate to do so. She pulled the jacket around her, fumbling with the zipper hurriedly.

He walked to her calmly, placing his hands over hers. “I got it.” He then easily zips her coat for her. His arms wrap around her neck, fixing the hood. “There, angel. You ready?”

…

The two sat in the restaurant, quietly enjoying their meals. 

“So… he said what to you?”

She shrugged. “It was stupid. I don’t think about it often.”

His eyebrows pull together as he sets his fork down, “Well, does it bother you?”

She sighs, twirling her own fork in her hand, “It did at the time. Now? I don’t know, Lex. It’s fine.”

It was his turn to sigh as his hand moved up to cradle her cheek gently. “It’s not fine if it bothers you, angel. He shouldn’t have said that.” 

She stares at the nearly empty plate in front of them, a distant look in her eyes. 

His thumb moves up her cheek, lightly brushing a crumb from her face. “I mean it. Say the word, and I’ll make sure he apologizes. Truly.”

She lets out a soft laugh, “It was almost a year ago, Lex. He probably doesn’t remember.”

“Oh, he will when I remind him.” He lifts his fork, stabbing the last piece of their shared steak. He holds it out in front of her face. “C’mon. You need the protein.”

She leans forward slightly, her lips wrapping around the fork, taking the piece graciously. 

He smiles, “Let’s say we pay the bill then head back to Saltburn. I have a little surprise for you, angel.”

She was thrown off, but agreed nonetheless. 

…

The servants opened the front doors to the mansion, letting the couple walk in. She happily let him pull her to one of the many living areas, this one in particular being his favorite one. 

He pulls her in front of his body to give her the first view before his arms move over her shoulders, pushing the doors open. 

A huge bouquet of flowers sat on the coffee table near the couch. Her favorite snack sat on a tray next to it. She was speechless. “You… you did this? For… me?”

He wore the happiest grin. “Indeed, I did. Well, Duncan helped, of course. Now, go on, angel.”

She walked further into the room before she stopped again. Her favorite movie sat on the TV, waiting to be watched. She spun around to look at him. “Lex, this is incredible! But… why?”

He shrugged moving to pull her into his arms again. “Don’t need a reason. Just wanted to. Besides, I know you’ve been wanting me to watch this movie, and what better way to do so?”

She hugged him tightly before whispering in his ear, “If you keep this up, I don’t think we’ll be watching much of the next movie.”

He grinned, pulling her to the couch to begin their movie night together. 

…

Duncan came in once to check on the couple. 

The girl lay against the boy, her head resting on his chest as she slumbered. The boy, however, continued to watch the movie reverently, his fingers moving in her hair as if a natural instinct.

.............................................................................

[crypticminx]

Enemies to lovers au ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Felix Catton was a popular student body that seemed so utterly artificial to you.

From his lean, supermodel like body to his outrageous facial piercing and even his ridiculously expensive clothes—everything seemed to irk you to no end.

Even the man’s whole life and every teeny bit of information you heard from gossip sounded like something that sprung from an unrealistic movie.

What made it even worse was his attitude, one that wasn’t too far off from the cocky cliche types you had no patience for in high school.

While you would sit and mind your own business, your mind attentively focused on the information in your textbook, you’d see him happily stroll on by—his hand always intertwined with a girls, of course. It almost infuriated you how those girls would chase him around like love sick puppies, a poor character trait on their part.

There were so many other men on campus, but only one Felix and that was the problem.

Felix this and Felix that, couldn’t you escape him for just one second?

It appeared not, as when you found yourself smoking a cigarette to escape the party filled atmosphere for a quick minute on the balcony of a flat, which belonged to someone’s name you didn’t even know, in walked the man himself.

“Got a light?” he asked you, interrupting the peace that was supposed to be your only moment of freedom from the obnoxious drunks inside.

Taking a minute to observe his flushed face, a result of one too many beers, you hesitantly handed your lighter to him after fetching it from your purse.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking a few clumsy seconds to light the cigarette poking through his lips.

In perfect unison, you both painfully stood in silence, keeping your distance from each other as nicotine would slowly trail down both yours and his throat and release with each exhale. The two of you creating quite the cloud of foggy smoke.

“I’ve seen you around, y’kno,” he took a small drag, gently tapping off the ash growing on his cigarette.

If this was his way of starting a conversation as an attempt to bring you home with him, he was doing a miserable job.

“I’ve seen you too,” you replied, sounding disinterested as you continued to face the distance ahead as opposed to Felix.

“Always got your head in a book, drinking beer by yourself,” he slowly dragged his feet as he circled around you. “…giving me dirty looks whenever you have the chance.” You couldn’t see it, but you knew he had to be sporting one hell of an arrogant grin.

No, he wasn’t trying to take you home, he was flat out insulting you.

Rolling your eyes with a disdainful expression, you tossed the remaining cigarette to the stone cold ground, crushing its entirety in one stomp.

Okay, if he wanted to play this game, so be it.

“What’s your point,” you questioned him with hostility, feeling your blood boil when his face was sporting the exact look you pictured it to.

“My point is,” he swallowed, his structured jaw clenching, “even with all the drinking I’ve done, I can sense you don’t like me.”

You found it comical, not even ten minutes with him and he was getting to all the nitty gritty. You absolutely pitted any girl who spent more than twenty minutes with him. you could probably name a few.

“And do I need to like you, Felix?” You inched yourself closer to him, not caring if you crossed some sort of stupid boundary that was created between the two of you.

“No no, of course not darling,” he shook his head while you cringed at the subtle name calling. “But nobody likes a bitch.”

Oh, he was a fucking piece of—

“However, you’re the fine exception.”

Your eyes squinted with confusion, finding yourself surprised that you weren’t about the cuss the tall man out. Instead, pure tranquility roamed through your composure as your mouth didn’t budge.

“What if I kissed you?” He interrogated you, his voice was loud and serious, not one ounce of alcohol collided with his system to say the things that flew out of him. “Would you still dislike me then?”

“Excuse me?” You aggressively spat out, starting to feel more frustrated than full of your previous rage.

“I said, what if I—“

“I heard you!” you profoundly interrupted him, coming to your senses that all your douchey assumptions about him were right.

“Wait,” he called out, almost sounding desperate like he had some good point to be made.

You refused to let this silly conversation continue for any second longer. Dashing straight for the the door, but one swift tap of your shoulder and suddenly you found your back against the brick wall and Felix’s lean arms alarmingly barricading you from exiting.

“I also know that you’ve got the highest grade in our lit class.”

Great, so he was gonna make some joke out of that too.

“And when I read your work that was on display, I found myself in love with how beautiful your writing was.”

It was a simple assignment. A poem based on a classic Shakespeare play, you just happened to have chose a midnight summers dream. Felix’s favourite.

“You….,” confused eyes scanned him up and down as you tried to picture him reading any sort of literature, “like poetry?”

“I like pretty girls who can write,” he flashed a confident smirk before his body mindlessly pushed him to do something he hopefully wouldn’t regret.

He leaned his tall frame down to the perfect level of letting his lips slowly embrace yours. The second you felt the softness from them, you wanted to pull away with all your might, but a weak part of you felt curiosity win you over.

As his tongue danced away with yours in circles upon circles, the taste didn’t stench of alcohol. Instead there was some sort of sweetness to it, something that made it all seem worthwhile.

Closing your eyes in an amused way of defeat, you savoured the moment from the long kiss. Soaking up his touch that maybe felt too alluring once his hands smoothly made way to your hips. You could feel the ambience of enjoyment twinkling it’s way in the air and you wondered how the hell you got here.

Felix was as good of a kisser as he was an asshole.

Breaking free from a passionate kiss turned make-out, you witnessed a side of Felix that almost made every negative aspect of him vanish from the depths of your mind. You trailed back to the very feeling that was his lips on yours and you wanted to possibly continue as you noticed Felix looked just as stunned as you.

Until—

“Felix, mate,” a man with piercing blue eyes and dark locks popped his head out the door, looking at the two of you dusting yourselves off while trying hide your sheer content that sprouted in the form of rosy cheeks. Luckily, his pal didn’t seem to pay any sort of mind. After all, this was typical Felix behaviour.

“Been looking for ya, get your ass inside and have a shot with me!”

“Duty calls,” Felix whispered in your ear, holding your soft hand for a quick second before letting go, even though it was clear he didn’t want to.

As he was about to part ways from you, he stopped before he turned to you for one last time before the two of you would go your separate ways into the long night ahead.

“See you around, if you’re not too busy with all your books.” He blew you a cheesy kiss.

You didn’t say anything to his antics, instead you tossed him your final smile, while on the inside, you were squealing with foreign joy.

Fetching another cigarette to help you process what just happened, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all…

[nonstoplover]

sleep without you ~ charles leclerc (cl16)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

song inspiration: sleep without you ~ brett young

summary: charles struggles to function properly without her by his side, or a story of a night without his girlfriend.

words: 2.1K

warnings: nothing, just fluff and a slightly clingy charles baby <3

a/n: idk why but this song honestly screams charles to me whenever i hear it, so i just had to make it happen. also this was supposed to be posted on my one year f1-aversary as celebration (well technically it should be more if counting my childhood f1 years but anyway), but i was so caught up in another wip that i couldn't do it. so happy anniversary to me and f1 (two weeks late) with this lil ficlet <3 thankful for all that f1 gave me.

big thanks to the amazing lovely silverstonesainz for helping me make this better and to the equally awesome monzabee for making me much less anxious with her words. love you sm queens!!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

Charles spends a whole afternoon trying to convince her to have a night out with her friends. Just because they're in a relationship doesn't mean they can't have fun without the other as well from time to time. There are still a couple of weeks left of winter break, plenty of opportunity to spend time just the two of them before the season starts again. So the usual point of view, the usual reasoning doesn't stand a chance – that they should spend as much time together as they can, before he's back to travelling all around the world.

"Go to a club, grab some drinks, dance and laugh the night away", he tells her. The usual bestie coffee dates or walks in the park that she usually raises as argument are not the same as a night out, and she hasn't done that for so long now. Definitely not since he's been back home, and he knows just how much she enjoys dancing her heart out.

(y/n) agrees after a short while, accepting his reasons, knowing full well that he's right, and after a few phone calls she starts getting ready, soon walking out the front door, dressed all pretty and dolled up.

Doesn't take long before Charles realises what he's done. A feeling tingles in his chest, one he recognises swiftly. He's miserable. Solely because she's not there by his side, as he makes dinner, eats it – all by himself –, before settling on the couch to occupy himself with a movie. It doesn't matter though, he doesn't pay any attention to it. He doesn't even know what's going on, he hasn't heard a single line, too busy thinking about her.

When the credits start to roll, he switches the TV off with a surprised look in his eyes – how did it already end? He doesn't even remember the first scene ending. Then he moves into the bathroom to do his night routine, from taking a shower to putting on some skincare products, all the while wondering how long she will be out for? Will she come home soon? Hope tingles in his chest that the answer to his question is yes.

Having finished with everything, Charles lies down in bed, trying to read a book, then scrolling on social media, doing anything to keep his mind from straying over and over again back to her. He knows this is stupid, he was the one telling her to go out, why is he like this now? Lying awake on his side of the bed, the fingers on his right hand tracing figures onto the sheet where her body usually rests.

This is pathetic, Charles thinks. He never thought he would be like this, so miserable and impatient just because she's not at home, with him. He's tossing around, unable to find a comfortable position for himself – it seems like he forgot how to sleep without her. No matter how many times he's had to do just that, in hotel rooms all around the world. The past few weeks erased all those nights from his mind.

The delicious scent of her shampoo fills his lungs when his face lands just a bit too close to her pillow, and all of a sudden it's like he's burying his nose in her hair. It only makes him miss her more. Sleeping is impossible, he knows it now. He's only daydreaming, not actually dreaming, of her arriving home and being in his arms again.

Charles imagines the way she dances in the middle of the floor, her hands in the air, shouting the lyrics loudly to the song currently playing – most probably something she knows and loves –, and he can't help but smile fondly. Just the thought of her having fun is enough to make him happier, even in his misery.

He pictures a scene where a random guy tries to get too close to her, as it has happened so many times, whenever he leaves her alone for a few minutes at any club they've been to. It doesn't matter where they are, doesn't matter if they spent the night so far together, all over each other, someone comes into the picture immediately when he leaves, either to grab a drink for the two of them, or to go to the restrooms.

It's not like he doesn't understand those guys. She's simply gorgeous, and radiates such a vibrant aura that everyone is drawn to her. He honestly just finds it funny at this point. Nothing makes these men back off more effectively than her. Oh, the amount of times he bit back laughter watching the scene unfold from a distance. Seeing men crumble and disappear looking all ashamed, what a sight that is. And he doesn't have to do anything.

He wonders how many times she's had to fight off guys so far tonight, with him not even in the club, and he finds he can't wait to hear all her stories of the newest victims. Pierre never understood why Charles found it so amusing, he didn't seem to get it. The trust they have in each other. Knowing that it's him she'll come home to at the end of the night is enough to make him only feel entertained by each instance, and not irritated at the slightest bit.

But thinking about (y/n) fighting off men is only good enough entertainment for a limited amount of time, and soon the smile fades back into a miserable pout on his lips, as his thoughts turn back into ones of impatience, trying to make time move faster with short little prayers falling as mumbles from his lips.

With a sigh, he eventually sits up, looking around to find something he can do. At last he decides on grabbing a drink himself, maybe it will help stop the flow of thoughts racing in his head. A little welcomed dullness.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table, sipping on the liquid in his glass, enjoying the feeling of the light alcohol gently burning his throat on the way down, numbing his tongue along the way. His fingers stay restless, now drumming on the wooden surface. A few minutes later he realises they play a song, soundless except the soft thud of his fingertips with the occasional louder tap or little scratch of his nails when a finger finds a different angle to hit the table with.

A melody appears in his mind as he watches his fingers move, imagining how it would sound if it was his piano instead of the kitchen table. He would go sit at the beautiful, white instrument and try it, but he doesn't want to be so loud at such a late hour. And anyway, he's way too comfortable sitting where he is to stand up and go somewhere else.

He looks out the window, catching sight of the moon – almost full, just a tiny bit of it missing, and Charles examines the craters that are visible to the naked eye, though only as spots of a darker shade on the round shape.

Maybe he'll name this new musical piece that's being born in his head right now after her – well, if he ever finishes it. He'll keep the usual format, three letters of a city name and a date, only this time putting the time and place of when they first met. Or should it be the time and place of when he first asked her out? Or their first date? Or when she agreed to move in with him? God, there are way too many options to choose from. He decides to put this problem aside for now, he's not in a rush to name a song not even written yet.

As the clock on the oven changes all four numbers to display 2am, the action rouses his attention and makes him tear his eyes away from the moon and look at the numbers instead.

He would've never ever thought that he'd be like this.

Raising his glass he notices that there's only a small sip left in it, which he downs in a short moment. His tongue darts out to gather all the minuscule drops that might rest on his lips still, not wanting to waste even that much of the delicious drink. Then he stands up, placing the glass down into the sink, making a mental note to clean it in the morning before (y/n) wakes up.

Just as he ponders putting another movie on, maybe only as background noise if nothing else, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his pants. Taking his time, Charles pulls the device out, expecting nothing more than a useless notification from a social media app he shouldn't spend so much time on anyway.

Instead what he finds is a text. From her.

in a cab, be home soon &lt;3

Charles lets out a relieved sigh, his lips involuntarily curving into a smile, one that you could almost call giddy. It's not just the thought that she's going to be here soon, but the fact that she remembered to text him to let him know. He's in her mind, just like she's in his, even though she's been out with friends, having fun, drinking, while he's only been at home, all alone with his misery.

Now he can move back to bed happily, knowing that shortly she will join him.

It truly doesn't take long until Charles hears the front door creak as it opens, then the familiar jingle of her keys hitting the drawer in the hall, and his heart flutters with happiness. Finally. The high heels she chose to wear hit the floor with a soft thud as she presumably removes them, and the growing anticipation in his body seems to eat him whole.

Her steps grow louder and louder as she moves closer to the bedroom, and time slows for Charles. He watches in slow motion as she appears in the doorframe, being propped up on his elbows to have a better view, a lazy smile curling onto his face, and his eyes lidded with drowsiness.

"You're still awake?" (y/n) giggles, pausing in her steps for a second as her eyes take in the view he provides lying there. His lack of reply to her text made her think he's already fallen asleep.

"Of course," he mumbles. "Come to bed."

His voice is whiny and he behaves like an actual child, he knows, but he can't help it. He wants to sleep, and he wants to sleep beside her, feeling her warmth against his skin. That's the only way he can.

"Let me get changed first," she starts towards the closet, when a grunt of pure displeasure sounds from him along with the thump of his back as he falls into a lying position once more, making her glance back at her boyfriend. "What, can't wait a single minute?"

"No," he protests, pouting . "I've been waiting for hours."

His accent comes forth stronger when he's sleepy, and she can't help but smile adoringly upon hearing it. He's just so cute.

"Okay, fine, you'll get one kiss," she gives in. Charles resembles a lost puppy and she's sure he knows that's her weakness. She can't ever say no to anything when he looks like that.

So that's how she finds herself crawling into bed, trying to get as close as possible to the boy without causing damage to her dress. He grins, as much as his tired facial muscles allow, awaiting her lips touching his own. His pout becomes even more apparent, right until the moment he finally gets what he wants. His goodnight kiss. It's soft, slow and just so full of love it makes both their hearts flutter.

Then she caresses his cheek gently, whispering a barely audible good night, sleep tight to him, before moving back off the bed to disappear in the closet, leaving Charles to think about how he'd happily convince her again of going out if it means she'll come home to him, looking so radiant, properly buzzing with energy, eyes shining, hair messy but still looking so breathtaking. It's obvious how much it meant to her that she had this night out. He made her happy with telling her to go out with her friends, and he didn't regret it, despite all the miserable hours.

By the time she finishes her night routine and walks back into the bedroom once more, he's fast asleep, quiet snores filling the silence of the room. She bites into her bottom lip to keep in the giggle threatening to burst out, and with a heart full of adoration and a head slightly dizzy from the drinks she's had, she gets in bed beside him, snuggling up close to him, revelling in the feeling of his arms instinctively finding their way around her body even when he's sleeping.

He truly only waited for her to come home and give him a goodnight kiss to finally be able to fall asleep.

[findmeinforks]

Stay Pt. 2 - Paul Lahote X Fem!Reader

This is the final part to Stay 💕 I liked writing this version of Paul, just a big ole softie. I'm currently working on another one shot & a Sam fic as well. As always, let me know what you think! 2.4K words ❤️

You giggled as you took a sip of coffee, the tea you had made went cold long ago.

"I definitely don't think a slap across the face was necessary..."

He chuckled, "That's what I said! Jacob is still hopelessly in love with her. They aren't even imprints. I don't get it." He shook his head.

"What's imprints?"

Paul nearly choked on his drink.

"Um, well it's-"

"Good morning you two!" Paul sighed of relief as Emily walked into the kitchen.

"Oh my gosh, what time is it?" You went wide eyed.

She laughed, "7:00am. I was going to make breakfast if you're hungry."

You nodded getting up, "Sure, I'll help you."

Paul watched you both cook as the rest of the pack slowly filtered in. He. Was. Fucked.

He was trying to come up with something, anything he didn't like about you. Not only was he incredibly stubborn on the fact he didn't need anybody, but what he wouldn't admit was he was downright terrified. Afraid he'd say the wrong thing, or do something stupid and screw up any chance of a relationship. He didn't want a relationship. But that was before you....

-

New vampires were popping up everywhere, and the boys had been on patrol non stop.

This meant little to no conversations with you, other than the occasional small talk at dinner. Paul craved to be closer to you, but every time he had an opportunity, he let his nerves get the best of him.

He watched you leave to run errands one day, Emily then turning to him.

"Are you ever going to ask her out or are you always going to stare at her like a lost puppy?" She boldly asked.

Paul couldn't help but smirk.

"What's it to you?"

"Ummm EVERYTHING. You imprinted on my best friend. And besides, I've watched you get with many women. I can tell she's different to you." She smiled.

Paul sucked in a breath. He took a quick look around to make sure there were no other open ears before mumbling, "She just makes me nervous, I don't know. I guess I never cared if someone would reject me before. Not sure how I would handle it if she did."

"You're kidding right? Ugh, you're both so lost in the clouds. She's head over heels for you, Paul."

"Yeah right." He scoffed.

"I'm serious!! Do whatever you want to do but I think if you took a shot, you'd like her answer."

-

You had been sort of bummed out at the fact you really hadn't gotten anywhere with Paul since that one late night weeks ago. You had chalked it up to him simply not being interested. Normally you'd just brush it off, knowing not every guy you encountered would want you in that way. But, it was ten times harder when you lived with said person. Even though the boys had been extra busy with patrols, you still saw him at least once a day. You got butterflies each time, fantasizing he would just walk up and ask you out. When he never did, you knew you had to just get over it.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you sighed, looking at the unanswered question. Fuck it.

-

It was a Friday night, and the first one in months that Paul didn't have patrol. He was finally going to do it. He was going to ask you on a date. He'd thought this through, countless times. He was simply going to offer if you'd like to grab some pizza and go see a movie. Nothing crazy, just casual and comfortable.

His leg was bouncing under the kitchen table, waiting anxiously for most of the boys to leave. He had been mindlessly talking to Quil who had suddenly averted his gaze to the stairs, eyes growing wide. "Holy shit." He whispered. Paul turned to where he was looking, and his breath caught in his throat.

There you stood, radiating in a tight dress that hugged your body in all the right ways. Your hair had been curled just slightly and your makeup made your face glow. You looked like you had taken a step right out of heaven.

"And just where do you think you're going gorgeous?!?" Emily gushed, hand on her hip when she, too had noticed.

"I got invited on a date." You beamed.

Paul felt like he had just taken a knife to his chest. His heart felt like it was nearly ripped out, his inner wolf scratching at the surface in pain. This was nobody's fault but his own. He didn't do anything for weeks and it wasn't even surprising someone else had beaten him to it.

The air was tense, all the boys and Emily trying and failing not to gauge Paul's reaction to your words. He slowly got up from the table, restraining himself not to shake, not to even show a slight temper until he was outside and far away from the house. He couldn't ruin this for you.

You frowned at Paul's exit, wondering in the back of your mind if he at all cared. Nonsense. Focus on this date, and do not think about him.

-

"I thought I'd find you here." Sam chuckled as he approached Paul, both in wolf form on the edge of the forest. Paul hadn't wanted anyone to see, but when your date picked you up he had followed you both to the restaurant, happy it was in ample sight through the crowded trees.

Paul huffed. "I'm just making sure she's safe. That is my job as an imprint, is it not?" He sneered.

"Of course. But then again, if you admitted to yourself that you liked her, she might not be on this date in the first place."

"For fucks sake. I do like her, okay? I've been busy on patrol and I was planning on asking her out tonight. I didn't know it would be too late.."

"It's never too late."

"Have you and Emily been watching too many rom-com's lately? Seems you both have all the answers to my love life."

Sam snorted. "We don't have all the answers, no, asshole, but we do know first hand what it's like to navigate imprinting."

Paul sighed. Maybe the universe would give him a second chance.

-

You had regretted everything the second you got in the car. This guy was the most boring, dullest man you could have ever met. You caught yourself looking at the clock more than you did him.

Once you had suffered through about two hours of misery, you politely (and awkwardly) told him you didn't think this would work out, and that you would find a ride home. He seemed absolutely fine with this, and you knew it was because you had put in so little effort from the start. Perhaps dating was not for you right now anyways. At least, dating anyone that wasn't him. Once you'd stop letting him get in the way of your thoughts, you'd try again.

After the man left you called Emily from the lobby, to which she apologized it didn't work out and said she'd of course be on her way.

What you hadn't expected however, was to see a certain wolf you had been obsessing over, pull up to park instead.

What a sneaky little bitch.

You walked up to the passenger door, eyebrows up in confusion.

"You ordered a get away car?"

You blushed, rolling your eyes playfully as you hopped in.

"Listen, not every guy is going to be my knight in shining armor and I've accepted that." You chuckled.

"That bad huh?"

"Miserable. Had the personality of watching paint dry. And that place was awful. They didn't even have good food. Just salad and wine. I'm starving." You threw your hands up in defeat.

Paul cleared his throat, the nerves starting to creep back up to him.

"Would you want to stop somewhere for some pizza?"

"Please, that would be great."

Paul smiled as he started up the truck.

-

You two walked through the door, throwing each other a confused look. It was silent. If there was one thing you learned about living here for the past month, it was that it was never, ever quiet.

Paul set the boxes on the counter, noticing a small note.

"I'll be back, I'm just going to change." You announced before heading to your room, in which he took the opportunity to quickly read it.

Probably the only time I can promise a house to yourselves until at least midnight. Make a move already! -Emily & Sam

Paul blushed before discretely throwing it in the trash.

You came back in an oversized hoodie and sweats, just about knocking the wind out of Paul. How did you look so flawless, so effortlessly? He'd never know.

"We could watch a movie while we eat on the couch. If you want..." He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

You smiled and nodded, grabbing a slice and following him.

When both of you had finished eating, still watching the movie, Paul's mind was anywhere else. He had to stop letting his nerves get the best of him. Before he'd know it, you'd just be out again with some other guy. He couldn't let that happen without at least knowing if he had a chance. You were his imprint for crying out loud, so you had to feel some sort of bond, right?

He eyed you from the side as he caught you hugging your knees to your chest, shivering ever so slightly.

"Are you cold?" He asked as if it wasn't obvious. When you nodded meekly he held out his arm. "Come here."

Your heart was racing as you more than gladly accepted the invitation in his arms. Jeez, was he hot.

"You have this tempature all the time?"

You could feel his chest vibrate as he chuckled. "I guess there are some perks to being a wolf."

Paul was being as normal as possible, but his mind was screaming. You molded perfectly into his chest, your hair smelling of fresh shampoo. Your small hands hesitantly wrapped around his torso as you snuggled deeper into him. He placed his arm on yours, the other wrapped around your side. He could spend forever just like this.

It wasn't but an hour that he could feel you softly start to snore. He smiled to himself as he gently kissed the top of your head. He leaned his cheek down, and soon enough, he followed.

-

Paul squinted his eyes open, nearly jumping when he saw your head still lay on his chest. He had almost thought the entire thing was a dream. As the sun shone through the curtains he realized you both had slept through the entire night, shocked none of the pack members tried to mess with him. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair and out of your face. You looked so peaceful. He pulled his hand away when you started to blink, yawning and stretching before also realizing where you were.

You looked up at him before fully sitting up.

"Oh my gosh, I didn't realize I fell asleep."

"It's okay, I just woke up myself."

You both now sat upright on the couch, but still so close. You looked up at him with tired eyes. He couldn't help staring back,

"You're really beautiful you know." He said so softly that it was almost a whisper.

You blushed, hard. You looked in his eyes, the ones you caught yourself in so many weeks ago, and down to his lips. You parted your mouth slightly as if you should say something, but Paul was already ahead of you.

With one hand he cupped your cheek, he leaned down and melted his lips into yours. You snaked your arms around his neck, getting lost in the kiss, in his overall warmth. He could feel you smile through the kiss, and it was as if it washed away any doubts that he had before.

"Ohhhhhh SNAP!!!!" Embrys voice had you two pull away, Paul turning to glare at him as his hand still gripped your waist. He almost had a mind to get off the couch and fight him, if you hadn't placed your head into his neck, giggling.

"Embry I told you to leave them alone damnit." Emily's stern voice came from behind them, smacking him upside the back of his head. She drug him back into the kitchen, ordering he help her with breakfast.

"Hate to say it but nights like last night won't happen often. Theres a lot of interruptions in this house." He said as he softly kissed your forehead. You lifted your head back up, kissing him softly once more.

"As long as we can always pick up where we left off."

Paul smiled wide as he swiftly pulled you under him, your laugh rung in his ears as he returned his mouth to yours.

Perhaps fate wasn't so bad after all.

[peanutbutterand]

this is how you fall in love; hhj

word count: 986

a one shot inspired by the song "this is how you fall in love" by jeremy zucker and chelsea cutler bc its so soft and bestfriend hyunjin concept eats it up (in my humble opinion)

~

“How do people do it?”

“What do you mean?”

Hyunjin focused in on your softly perplexed expression, a chuckle falling from his lips at the sight of your stare fixated onto the long awaited kiss being shared by the leading characters. 

The entertainment he found in your distracted state soon craved your attention, waving his hand in front of your face just as the rolling credits came in. 

Faintly smiling at the blank screen, you turned to look at your best friend who displayed confusion and concern in his expression. 

“I was just wondering how people do it?”

Hyunjin moved his body closer, head leaning in as if to motion for you to continue your thought. 

“Fall in love I mean.”

In an instant, you fell towards the back of the couch, the pillow that was once on Hyunjin lap now falling onto yours. 

“Hwang Hyunjin, what the actual fuc-”

“Y/n its a fucking movie! They are acting sweetheart and you really made me miss the last scene!”

Letting out a sharp breath, you stuck your tongue out and slightly nudged the side of his stomach with your elbow, causing him to flinch away with a giggle. 

“I’m not talking about the movie stupid. I just mean in general, it’s a genuine question, the movie just prompted my thoughts.”

You moved towards Hyunjin, closing the minimal space between the two of you, settling closely beside him as you readily waited for his response. Tilting his head, he lifted his fingers to fix the hair on the top of your head that had been messily misplaced by his pillow throwing. The both of you paused before bursting out into giggles. 

It’s not like you were completely oblivious to the many answers that existed for your question. 

Some say, people fall in love with what makes up a person: how they laugh, what makes them cry, how they like their coffee, etc. Some say falling in love requires the essence of time and self discovery. Some say falling in love is like jumping off a cliff, only hoping that you’ll land safely in their arms. And some say, falling in love is nothing but a series of chemical reactions occurring in the brain. 

Nonetheless, everyone arrives at an answer sooner or later in their life. So, it’s always good to talk to people, gain their perspective on the little things in life, like love. 

And Hyunjin was the one person whom you turned to when it came to talking about those little things. You raised your finger towards Hyunjin's cheek, softly poking it as he kept his eyes on you, lips in a tight line while he remained silent. 

“I guess you don’t have an answer yet either.”

His shoulders lifted as he gave you a shrug while he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Music began to fill the air as the beat resonated in your mind. Your body began to respond, standing up as you pulled off the most ridiculous of moves that were a stark contrast to the song playing. 

Hyunjin brought his hand over his mouth, stifling giggles at your unrhythmic dancing that seemed to always be one second behind the beat of the song. The sight of his crinkled eyes only encouraged your tasteful movements. Before you were able to continue your shenaniganz, the music had suddenly come to a stop. 

You sent a glare towards him while he held his stomach from laughter obviously putting a pause to the music. Before you could protest, a soft melody eased your frown. You glanced at Hyunjin, immediately catching his eyes. A breath hitched in your throat the longer you stared. For the look reflected in his orbs was soft and endearing. 

With a small smile, Hyunjin stood from the couch and made his way towards you, body slowly swaying left to right. You mirrored his movements, closing your eyes as you let the tune take hold of your body as the lyrics fill your mind. Just as the chorus had started, you found yourself opening your eyes in response to the sudden warmth placed on both sides of your face. 

Hyunjin's face was only a few inches from your own, but the both of you remained still, bodies lingering in the short distance. You said nothing as his hands fell from your face, to your shoulders, and soon down your arms. The comfort of his fingers provided heat to your still state. 

His hands landed into your own, fingers playing with each other as he raised your hands towards his shoulders, putting them in place. The eye contact between the two of you brought heat to your cheeks and emphasized the pounding in your chest. 

Your chest slowly raised as he placed his hands on your waist, his fingers moulding into your skin and softly pulling your body towards his. 

“Close your eyes.”

You pursed your lips as he flashed you a small smile, closing his eyes, only leading you to follow his request. He leaned forward, setting his forehead on yours. His soft breathing fawning over your skin, a type of warmth you quickly grew fond of. 

The urge to never let him go grew with the intimacy flowing between the both of you, bodies intertwined as your feelings ached to do the same. Your bodies swayed side to side, falling into the soft melody, falling into him. As if he were holding you up, ready to catch you.

“I think this is how you do it Y/n.”

The light met your eyes before you settled on his face. His soft and kind and endearing face. 

“What do you mean?”

His eyes. Those deep brown eyes. They always calmed you down. Holding a sense of passion as they traced your features, delicately framing you in his mind.

“This is how you fall in love.”

[lovestay-channie]

Hugs - Seungmin

Pairing: Seungmin x fem!reader

Genre: fluff with a lil angst

Summary: y/n is feeling touch starved, and feeling the need of some comfort. all she wants is a hug.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning: reader feels sad, in need of comfort, reader has a crush on Seungmin,

Sometimes there are days where you just need a hug, but you don’t want to ask because it’s weird. Right? Who asks for hugs unless you need comfort, meeting someone after a long time, or saying goodbye. You can’t just ask for a hug.

Sure, maybe you did need some comfort, but someone just holding you for a moment in time sounded refreshing.

Who could you even ask to give you a hug? You thought about it for a while. The thought kept creeping back into your mind every now and then for a week. It was like your heart and soul was crying for a touch of love.

Seungmin, your best friend and secret crush, was over for a movie night. He is quite an observant person. Sometimes he could read you like an open book. It a few glances to tell how you really feel. There have been many moments in your friendship where he could tell you were in an uncomfortable situation, and he tagged along with you so you weren’t alone. He was truly remarkable.

Your eyes were laser focused into the movie, but your mind was completely elsewhere. You didn’t even notice that Seungmin was watching you half the time trying to read your mind. He was convinced something was wrong. Normally, when watching a movie, your feet are propped up on his thighs, yet instead your legs are tucked underneath you with your arms wrapped around them. You were completely on your side of the couch and not in his space.

Next thing you know, the movie is paused. You snap your head towards Seungmin, “Why did you pause?”

You didn’t expect his whole body to be facing you sitting criss cross. He had the remote still pointed to the TV. You could see his eyes examining your whole body. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do you need something?”

“Yes.”

You didn’t think he was going to answer so suddenly. You hesitate before speaking, “Okaaay? What do you need?”

“Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” Seungmin asks while scooting closer to you, making you lean back.

“I’m sorry, but what the hell are you talking about?”

“I need you to promise.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you won’t tell the truth if I don’t pressure you.”

You scoff at his reasoning. He wasn’t lying, but you hated that he was right. He wasn’t trying to be pushy, but he was trying to tell you he knows something is wrong. You don’t talk about yourself. You don’t let people in because it means they can sneak into your heart. However, Seungmin sneaked in a long time ago without even trying.

“Do you need me to grab a bible or something?” you joke.

Seungmin holds up his pinky. He is one to hold pinky promises sacred. It was a special thing between the two of you. “Pinky promise me.”

You sigh deeply knowing that there was no way out of this. You shortly stare at his long pinky thinking of a way to divert his attention to something else, but Seungmin isn’t stupid. Far from it. You glance up into his eyes. They were stern yet soft. He was trying to be careful.

You adjust to criss cross as well and raise your pinky to interlock with his. “Fine. What is it?”

“What’s wrong?”

Your grip on Seungmin’s pinky tightens. All of your senses are heightened. You didn’t realize that your knees were touching his. Or how your leggings were hugging your thighs. Or how tight your ponytail was. For some reason, his question caught you off guard.

“Why?” you ask

“Just answer the question. Something's off. I can smell it,” he sniffs.

He was trying to lighten the mood with a joke. Something you admire about him.

You loosen your grip and bring your hands down between the two of you, pinkies still intertwined.

Your mind is going a million miles an hour, trying to figure out how to explain your feelings. Every way you think you can explain it, it sounds dumb in your brain. It sounds unbelievable. You have to be over reacting. Why is your brain thinking this way? Why can’t you just get over it and move on?

“Hey!” Seungmin’s voice break you out of your thoughts. “Come back to the real world please.”

You let out a breathy chuckle, “Sorry. I just… I don’t know how to explain it very well.”

Seungmin shrugged his shoulders while unhooking your pinky from his. “Try me.”

You already missed his soft touch. You knew you were incredibly touch starved to where holding pinkies made you feel safe. You so badly wanted to reach out for his hand again, but instead, you tuck your hands into your hoodie pockets.

“Do you promise not to judge me?” you question.

Seungmin gently rolled his eyes “When have I ever judged you?” You cocked your head to the side and eyes hooded as he replied to his own question. “Don’t answer that.”

You slightly smirked at his comment. You stare at the space between the two of you for a moment before gaining the courage to speak your mind. “Do… do you ever feel like you just need a hug sometimes?”

You looked up into his puppy like eyes, his head tilted slightly. You couldn’t exactly read his reaction. He looked confused, but he looked like his eyes were filled with admiration. An odd combination.

“I know you don’t like skinship, but past that, do you ever just want someone to hold you?” you explain deeper.

The silence grows between the two of you. All you could hear was your own heart beating out of your chest. The heat grew on your already rosy cheeks.  This was a mistake. He may be your best friend, but being vulnerable with him, or in general, has always been difficult.

“You know what,” you lightly chuckle in embarrassment. “Never mind! It sounds silly anyways. I don’t know even what I’m talking abo-“

Arms are suddenly secured around your shoulders, bringing you to a bony shoulder. The smell of sandalwood and musk surround you just like the arms holding you tight. You could feel Seungmin’s breath on your neck. He was so close to you. Sure, you have hugged before, but this was different. This was a hug full of love. You didn’t realize you were frozen until you felt soft fingers caressing your spine. You slowly take your hands out of your hoodie and wrap your arms around Seungmin’s waist, gripping on to him while relaxing into his body at the same time.

“Needing comfort is never silly, Y/N,” Seungmin whispers.

You bury your head into the crook of his neck from his statement. You could almost feel tears brew in your eyes, but you close your eyes to keep them from falling. Seungmin leaves a sweet, tender kiss on your temple before resting his head onto yours. He starts swaying you back and forth.

The hug lasts for what feels like forever. You could get used to this feeling, Seungmin holding you. It was nice to have someone hold you. Someone to rest upon. The world felt a little lighter, just for a moment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Seungmin breaks the silence.

You pull away from his grasp to look up at him. He still has his arms around you, afraid to let you go. He scans your face to make sure you are okay. He takes a piece of hair that fell out of your ponytail and tucks it behind your ear. It made your heart swoon. “It’s just been tough lately. That’s all really. I’ve felt stuck. I feel like I’m not enough. Just… the same things over and over again,” you explain.

Seungmin knew well of your struggles and insecurities. Trying to do college and work can be difficult sometimes. On top of that, trying to have a healthy social life and schedule can be hectic. This is the first movie night in 3 weeks because of both busy schedules. Seungmin has been preparing for a comeback while you were in the midst of midterms. Finally having this break was nice, but it came with the overwhelming leftover feelings.

“I’m sorry,” Seungmin frowns, resting his forehead on your shoulder while his hands move to around your waist.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Min,” you reassure. Your arms adjust to wrap around his shoulders. One hand finds its ways into his soft, silky hair.

Seungmin shakes his head, “Yes I do. You were there for me all last week while you were swamped with exams, yet I didn’t do anything for you. I was so blind in rehearsals and recording sessions that I didn’t see you were struggling.”

“Oh, Min. It’s okay.”

“No, Y/N. It’s not.” Seungmin lifts his head. His face is only several inches away from your face. His eyes dart back and forth from your eyes. “You helping me was a cry for help. Taking time out of your busy week to comfort me was enough to show that you were also struggling. No sane person goes out of their way when they have too much on their plate.”

‘Well, it helps that I’m basically in love with you’ you think.

You have always been a person who helps others before yourself, especially when it comes to helping Seungmin.

“It’s honestly okay. You are here right now. That’s what matters,” you smile, patting his head.

“What can I do for you right now?” he asks.

“How about you just keep holding me? I think that will help me a lot,” you answer.

Seungmin smiles, “I can do that.”

You adjust your position to both of you lying on the couch. Seungmin’s head rests on the arm of the couch with a pillow raising it up slightly. He pulls you on top of him, legs intertwining together. Your head lies on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. Seungmin grabs the remote to continue playing the movie.

“Thank you, Min,” you whisper in his ear.

He tilts his head down to glance at you before pressing his lips to your forehead, “Anytime. I’m always here for you.”

[steveharringtonat3am]

Free use with Steve

kinktober masterlist!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: roomate!steve, free use agreement (fully consensual), an allusion to sex, hair pulling, degradation, a little bit of bondage, penetrative sex, edging

a/n: shoutout to the loml @ddejavvu for helping me out with some characterization!! dedicating this one to her as 1/2 of her birthday present!! <3

When I had first seen Steve’s ad for a roommate, I hadn’t paid any mind to the lack of a rent price in the ad. I figured he would let me know if he actually wanted me to move in. So after he showed me around and we talked for a bit about all the major stuff, I asked about it. And he gave the most intriguing answer I’ve ever heard.

“Well, I’m gonna offer you two options. You could pay half of the rent, so about $900 a month or…you could-could pay nothing.” This option seems to make him nervous, as he shifts slightly in his seat.

“Pay nothing?”

“See, that comes with a catch. If you choose to pay nothing then I would cover you and…you would have to return the favour.” A hint of red colours his cheeks. While I admit it suits him, it gives me a hint as to where this conversation is going.

“And how would I do that?”

“By being a-available at all times.” He smiles sheepishly and fiddles with his hoodie strings

“Available for…what exactly?”

“Sex.” When he says it I think I’ve misheard him. But…he couldn’t have said anything else. He takes my staring as a cue to explain further.

“Well…that sounds bad. You don’t have to have sex with me, especially not right away. And you’re perfectly welcome to pay your half of the rent and completely forget about this. But I like you. And my job is…pretty stressful. So if you would be okay with me relieving that stress with you, I’d be happy to cover the full rent.” He smiles softly and I take a second to process all this. I mean, I did think he was really cute. And definitely my type.

Also, I didn’t have many other options for an apartment. This place was in a good neighbourhood, I had my own bathroom, a nice kitchen, and plenty of natural light. I would be crazy to give that up. And I would be even crazier to give up living rent-free in exchange for having occasional sex with my very hot roommate.

“You know what? Sure. You’ve got a deal, Harrington. Just don’t be a perv.” His laugh is boyish, grinning as he sips his water.

“You’ve got my word.”

So, I moved in a week later. Frankly, it was a great deal. Steve was incredibly sweet and we ended up spending a lot of time together. Which of course, had its perks.

“Holy shit,” I whisper into the hot room, as Steve collapses next to me, panting.

“Holy shit is right. I figured it would take at least another month before we hooked up.” He smiles at me and I can’t help but return it.

“I really thought the only times we would do anything would be whenever you wanna take your stress out on me,” I say as he tugs me close, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“Well, I had to give you a little preview of what you’re signing up for. Would hate to condemn you to mediocre sex.” He chuckles and I smile up at him.

“I don’t think anything about you is mediocre, Steve Harrington.”

After that, he really took advantage of our agreement. He started off slow, wandering hands when I was doing the dishes, gently groping me if I was near, a lewd comment every once in a while. Honestly, I liked it. It made me feel so wanted. I found myself craving every glance, comment, and touch.

When he finally upped the ante, bending me over the counter one night after dinner to fuck me with almost no warning, it was practically a dream come true.

And boy did Steve know it.

“Fucking stupid motherfuckers.” I hear Steve cursing under his breath as he slams the front door behind him. I pause my movie, turning to look at him. He’s toeing his shoes off, furiously tugging at his tie. I know how much he hated the thing. It represented everything he hated while working at his dad’s firm.

“Bad day?” I question, finally gaining his attention. The second his eyes focus on me, they darken.

“Mhm. Very…stressful.” He crosses the room quickly. His hand gently pushes my hair away from my face before gripping it tightly. Steve knows to grab at the base of the hairs, so it doesn’t hurt as much but I still wince.

“I-I can help with that?” I peer up at him and he breaks for a second, smiling fondly.

“You’re such a good girl…turn around?” He grips the fabric of his tie in his hands, making me grin and turn. The second I’m situated, he smacks me with it. It barely stings, but the surprise makes me yelp.

“Be quiet. Don’t wanna hear you.” He grips my wrists in one hand, wrapping his tie around them. This was not a new thing, so I don’t squirm. Steve enjoyed having my hands bound while he used me.

I try not to move as he tugs my pyjama pants down just enough to expose my ass. Luckily for him, it was laundry night so I had forgone panties.

“Such a slut.” He mumbles, ever a fan of degradation. His hand runs over the fat of my ass, squeezing the flesh appreciatively. He pulls away to undo his pants, the metal of his belt buckle clicking as he drops the leather to the floor. A small part of me is disappointed. I’d been hoping he’d spank me at least a few times. It always hurt so well.

I feel the head of his cock line up with my entrance and I bite my lip hard to keep from moaning.

“Fucking hell…” He curses as he starts pushing in. He goes slower than normal, maybe trying to make this last extra long. Steve was always a big fan of spending hours bringing both of us to the edge, just to stop so that we could do it all over again.

“Please…” I whisper before I can think. He stops and I tense, ready for him to spank me hard.

“I told you to be fucking quiet.” Before I can apologize, he slams into me. I gasp, barely able to catch my breath as he starts pounding into me.

“S-such a stupid toy.” He moans softly, nails digging into me. Moans continue to slip out of me as the head of his cock slams into that spot that makes me go crazy. He doesn’t bother reprimanding though, focusing on chasing his release.

“This pussy always feels so fucking good.” He groans. I can feel my orgasm building, the coil tightening with every deep thrust. I know Steve is on the edge, so I have to cum before he does. No way does he spend extra time on me now that I made noise.

“Shit!” He curses and I feel him cum. As his thrusts slow, my orgasm ebbs away. I whine weakly but he just chuckles and pulls out slowly. Cum slowly leaks out of me and runs down my thighs as Steve leans down to whisper in my ear.

“Don’t you know? Toys don’t get to cum.”

hope you enjoyed!!