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[reidslovely]

ABBY ABBY ABBY AHHHHHHHH

THIS WAS SO FUCKING PRECIOUS I CANT IVE BEEN IN SUCH A READING SLUMP BUT I LOVE THIS THIS ISNSO THANK YOU BABE

The Life You Build

Peter Parker x gn!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You first met Spider-Man, then you met Peter. OR Peter looks back on the photos that built your lives, the good and bad.

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: Fluff. Awkwardness. Angst & Peter's anger (not at reader). Description of injuries.

A/n: I did a version of this for Eddie, so of course I had to do it for Peter :) He's a lovestruck idiot, and I love him. Thank you for reading <3 let me know your thoughts!

--

The first picture Peter had taken of you was by accident. He’d been trying to capture the opening of a newly renovated wing of the library near his apartment. Since crime had been a bit quieter lately, making Spider-Man’s activities quieter as well, Jameson had sent him on more menial jobs for The Daily Bugle. 

He’d only seen you in the photos after the fact when editing them, finding you amongst the crowd with sunglasses resting on your head and a book in your hands, your smile wide with a happiness that permeated throughout the air.

The photos only caught part of your face, but he could see the excitement and wonder in your eyes, embarrassingly finding himself returning to them more than necessary. When documenting events for the paper, they often didn’t have such a happy ending — misused public resources, corrupt members in power, or something much more sinister and violent. Between that and his job of saving this city, he didn’t find as many calm or nice moments anymore, even forgetting about them altogether.

But here you were, unequivocally full of joy at something that should’ve had him smiling as well, if he weren’t so focused on taking pictures Jameson wouldn’t yell at him for. And so, he picked one of the photos in which you were off to the side alongside other joyful people and families looking at the ribbon cutting, and he put it right at the top of the story.

The next day at work, he found himself going to get coffee as usual, but maybe he’d had a lighter step to walk . A more relaxed of drifting through the world as he entered The Daily Bugle’s office. If you could find happiness in the small things, maybe he could too. 

–

The next time Peter got a photo of you wasn’t actually one he took. You did.

He’d done something menial, saving a cat from a tree, and came back to the ground, kitty in hand, to a crowd gathering around. He didn’t mind the attention, he’d gotten used to it by now, especially when it wasn’t negative. This wasn’t a mob – rather a group of people pleased to see him, including the cat’s owner thanking him over and over again. A cat owner he definitely recognized.

You’d had a rough morning, spilling coffee on yourself and creating a mess on the floor – only for your cat to walk through and get his fur drenched. Giving him a bath did not go well either, full of his hissing and your groan when knocking came at your door. Half-soaked and tired, when you opened up the door to your neighbor, your cat took the chance to book it. Shoving your head out into the hallway, you caught a glimpse of his tail disappearing out the window at the end of the hall. 

Your neighbor handed you a package that’d accidentally been delivered to her apartment, which you threw inside your place before slipping on your nearest shoes. Grumbled “sorry’s” passed your lips as you passed others while racing to the building’s front door to chase after your horrible (and adorable) cat. Cool morning air of the late summer greeted you as your eyes flashed across every inch of the streets, buildings, even trash cans. But the pitiful cries of your cat came from above.

Straining your neck, you saw flashes of orange swishing in a tree near your building. “Oh god,” you muttered while racing to the bottom of it. Bark scratched against your palms as you leaned against the trunk, looking up at him. His claws sunk into the tree far out of reach for you to grab.

Calling the fire department certainly felt like overkill to get your now traumatized (read: overdramatic) cat out of a tree, and a bit cliche. Shaking your head, you told him, “Please just get down here. I will give you a hundred treats and unlimited attention.” A long sigh loosened from your lungs, hoping he somehow understood your pleas.

“Sure wish I got that kind of reward,” a soft voice laughed out behind you. 

Any embarrassment heating your face seemed to drain away when you turned to come face to face with Spider-Man sticking to the wall of your building, looking right at you with those big white eyes. Words escaped you for a second as you kept staring. You’d only ever watched him swing on television, barely catching him as a speck in the distant horizon of the city’s skyline if you were lucky. You couldn’t stop staring, even as he tilted his head at you.

“Guess all I need now is the hundred treats,” he said, and you could’ve sworn he smiled under that mask. You would’ve laughed along with his silent ones if he hadn’t pointed out your incessant gazing.

“Well, only if you get him down, that is.” Your nervousness bled through your words, maybe from his presence. Probably your cat. The sweat coating your palms didn’t know anymore.

Breaths floated past your lips a little easier when Spider-Man lept up into the tree and grabbed your cat, much to his dismay. More cries came from above until they sounded from directly in front of you, webbed gloves wrapped around his middle and holding tight as he wiggled. 

“Oh thank you,” you said before whispering to your cat, “And hush, you got yourself into this, Samwise.” You took him from the superhero, silently chastising him. Of course your cat would do this to you – send you out into the streets in dirty clothes and disheveled… well, everything, only to stand in front of literal Spider-Man like this. The people that had gathered only for a moment started dispersing after the excitement died down, not that there’d been much to begin with besides you talking to a cat.

“Samwise?” he questioned while brushing a finger along your cat’s forehead. Soon, soft purring began vibrating against your chest.

With a small laugh, you said, “Yeah, he’s just as sweet as Samwise Gamgee, but it seems he’s just as adventurous too. Thank you, again.”

“Of course. Just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, right?” He laughed, scratching the back of his neck, but you doubted he could actually itch anything through that suit. Was he as nervous as you?

Though it mostly went against your judgment, you knew your friends wouldn’t believe you if you didn’t have some sort of proof that this all happened. “Okay, I know you’re probably really busy and I look completely wild, but could I take a quick picture with you?”

He looked up from where he’d been staring (and cooing) at Samwise to lock eyes with you, and though you couldn’t see any part of his face, it still brought a heat to your cheeks. “If wild means pretty, then I’d love to.”

Oh. If you hadn’t been flustered before, that sure did it. Fishing your phone out of your pocket with a cat in your arms and shaking fingers proved difficult. But you finally held it up, hoping to finish with all this and let him get on with his life – only for the sun to shine right into your eyes at this angle.

“Ah, maybe I should turn the other way…” you started but were quickly cut off by the sound of Spider-Man shooting webs from his wrist.

“Does that help?” 

Looking up, you saw that he created a web in between branches of the tree – right where the sun had been shining into your vision. 

“Yeah… yeah, that’s great. Thank you,” you said in a quiet voice, suddenly unsure whether all Spider-Man fan interactions felt this intense. Was it just you? 

You brought the phone back and focused it, though selfies were never your talent. So while you balanced Samwise and struggled to get the three of you in frame, Spider-Man brought his hand up and angled it up slightly.

“There…” he mumbled, and the body heat rolling off of him had you frozen, had you in a hold until you saw that hint of his mask moving in the camera as if he were smiling for the picture. So you followed suit, capturing a picture of you, him, and your cat he just saved all bathed in the morning sunlight. 

“Hey, be sure to share that with me on Twitter, okay? If you know my page on there… it’s been a while since I’ve done the whole ‘save a cat from a tree’ thing.” He laughed again, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it quickly becoming one of your favorite sounds.

“Yeah, I know it,” you started saying, aware that everyone in New York knew about his social media presence, but… “I’m just not sure it’s the best picture of me, you know?”

That time, there was no denying the way the eyes on his mask shot up. “Well I’d be dying to know the best picture there is of you, because that must sure be something,” he told you. And you were about to respond (you absolutely were, not just stand there and stumble over your words and unable to make eye contact), but sirens began to start up in the distance. 

He yelled out, “You better share that with me!” as he shot out a web, leaving you with no argument as he swung away. Holding Samwise close to your body, you let out a breath and watched as Spider-Man floated above the skyline.

And later that night, you did end up sending it to him despite how you thought you looked in it. He had stood so close to you, and your heart melted everytime you saw the way his hand rested against Samwise’s cheek – who all but adored the attention and pressed back into him. Peter had to keep himself from opening your message immediately, especially since he was in the middle of taking down a man trying to break into a store. 

“Hey! You can’t just leave me here!” the man clothed in black said as he hung from a fire escape in the alleyway next door. Meanwhile, Peter stood there, hovering his thumb over your message after shooting a web over the man’s mouth. 

Peter internally groaned as he began pacing back and forth. Was he overthinking this? He probably was. He ran a hand over his face before deciding to wait until he got home to open it… to play it cool – he was being really cool about all this.

Until he did open it and fell in love with a different part of you each time he glanced at it.

–

The next picture Peter had of you came from someone else, a fan of his that tweeted at him a day after he’d talked with you again.

You’d been sitting out on your fire escape, sweater on and hot drink in hand as fall quickly approached, watching the dipping sunset about to kiss the tops of New York’s buildings. And you nearly spilled it all – almost dropped the mug down on top of pedestrians passing by – when Spider-Man landed on your railing and sat down on it.

The sudden gasp threatening to come out stopped in your throat, your fingers tightening against the mug’s handle as you tried to calm your breathing. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to scare you,” he rushed out, reaching his hands toward you as he apologized. All of his super strength would go into internally smacking himself in the face later.

By the time you could think clearly again, you looked up at him and his legs swinging back and forth. “Not sure how you thought landing on someone’s fire escape from the sky wouldn’t scare them, but it’s okay,” you said with a breathy laugh.

“Fair. You’ve got me there,” he admitted. And before the following silence became too overbearing and overwhelmed by the traffic below, he asked, “How’s Samwise doing?”

You blinked at him, eyes wide as you thought about it. “He’s…” you paused, “He’s well. No more climbing trees for him, unless I get you on speed dial.”

The eyes on his suit narrowed for a moment before he hopped off the railing, coming to stand just a little closer to you. “Is this your way of asking for my number?”

He couldn’t help but laugh – at your own surprised giggle, at the way you hid your burning face behind your cup, and at how the skin of your face crinkled with each laugh. “So Spider-Man– Can I call you that?”

“Mr. Spider-Man, The Spidester. Any of the following adjectives between ‘The’ and ‘Spider-Man’: Amazing, Spectacular, Friendly Neighborhood, Handsome… the list goes on,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Through a smile you desperately tried to hide, you said, “Okay, Spidey, I was going to ask whether you’re this flirty with all of the citizens you help.”

God was he glad you couldn’t see the red painting his cheeks or somehow sense the warmth in his chest from your words. “Maybe it’s just the lucky ones that I help save their cats.”

“Ah, so it’s luck then?” you asked, and there was no missing the teasing look you gave him or the way your body subconsciously leaned toward his.

He felt the suit pull taut as he nodded. “Yeah, luckier than winning the lottery, I’d say.”

Pursing your lips, you considered him for a moment. And Peter had never felt so seen by someone who couldn’t actually see him. It made him want to know what went on in that pretty head of yours. Really pretty.

Your hands rose up to gesture at him, breaking him from his staring as a chilled breeze went by. “Okay, next question. Do you ever get cold in that thing? Snow’s not far off here, and your suit doesn’t look very… winterized.” 

For a moment, he thought about teasing you, saying something about how you were checking him out enough to notice that about his suit, but he wouldn’t deny an audience to talk about his technology with. “For a while, it wasn’t. I wore a hat sometimes, a scarf made by my… relative – but that didn’t exactly scream ‘intimidating’ to people, so I had to make adjustments to the suit. It’s now a bit more insulated, but moving around and beating ass usually warm me up too.”

The sudden laugh you let out at brought an unmissable smile to his lips. Oh, how he wanted to make you do that again and again. “I suppose it would,” you said in between breaths. And maybe you thought better of it, but you followed up with, “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee or something? As a thanks for Samwise.”

Peter almost said yes in an instant, anything to keep you talking to him for just a little longer. But angry yelling erupted a block over, some argument he picked up with his hearing. The screaming in his head telling him to ignore it and choose you instead nearly drowned it out, but he couldn’t.

With a weight in his stomach, he said, “Raincheck? Duty calls.” You only nodded, eyebrows all scrunched up before he lept from the fire escape and off to the fight starting to break out. It was that moment right before he left that a fan caught with their phone.

It looked a little fuzzy from how far away it was taken, but it was unmistakably Spider-Man standing across from you. It’d be difficult to make out your face, but he knew it was you. The two of you almost looked domestic there, having a sweet conversation about your lives before the day ended.

The tweet came with speculations as to who you were and what he was doing with you. All of that ate away at the lump in his throat, so he found a way to get it deleted in case anyone tried finding you – but not before saving the photo himself to dream about a simpler life where you knew who he was.

–

Peter shouldn’t have done it. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he did it anyway. Why? It seemed he never could think straight when looking at you, or being near you. Or even thinking about you for that matter. Sometimes, he wondered whether you had powers too, but just for making his mind all fuzzy and dull when it came to you. So against better judgment, he took the assignment The Daily Bugle had given him to interview workers about a series of recent break-ins – like the flower shop you worked at.

He’d found himself catching glimpses of you here and there while on patrol, not that he was looking for you, of course. But he just so happened to see you walk into the same shop almost every day, so he kept an eye on it to make sure you were safe as you trudged home after too-long shifts in your work clothes and uncomfortable but “work-appropriate” shoes. Not that him doing so meant anything. Right?

And he rationalized to himself that it was all worth it when he saw someone trying to force inside the building after hours while you and a coworker cleaned up and readied it for the next day. The man made his way in, shouting something to you two, a gleaming knife extending past his fingertips. 

But Peter had been there, moving faster than he had in months. His vision nearly blacked out as his webs pulled the man back out onto the street, and he had no control over the hands that pressed this worthless man into the tar – wanting to push him into it. The knife had been thrown when he’d been pulled, landing somewhere too far to save this man, not from Peter. He could barely feel the writhing below him, the angry shouts of this person barely reaching his ears.

Then, he heard your voice. Something about calling 911, something about checking whether Spider-Man was okay. They should’ve asked about the other guy. But Peter loosened a breath, dropping his head for a moment before picking the man up and webbing him to the nearest street lamp. You were okay.

Still, when he turned to you, your coworker on the phone in the shop, he had to ask. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You blinked a few times, your arms wrapped around your middle. “Uh, yeah we’re okay. I’m okay, just a bit shaken up. Thank you… again.” Despite what had happened, you let out a small laugh. “We should really stop meeting like this.”

And in seeing that soft smile of yours, he was Peter again to himself. Not Spider-Man. He wished you could do that for him every day.

“How would you rather meet, then?” he asked, and if he didn’t love the flustered look you got, he would’ve been sadder about you turning away from him from embarrassment.

“Any other time than my or my cat’s life in danger. I think that’d be a good start.” You clasped one hand over the other as you rocked from one foot to the other. Only did his grin drop when you said, “We’ve, um, called the police. So you should probably head out before they get here.”

He took a bit of solace in how sad you sounded about him having to leave, so he swung away with a little hope in his heart. And really, it should’ve ended there. But he accepted the assignment to show up at the flower shop to interview people about it. Who knows? Maybe you wouldn’t work that day.

“Hi! Are you from The Daily Bugle? My boss said you’d be coming in.” You’d opened the door when he knocked on it, that brightness you always brought took his breath away in the best way.

Appropriate answers to your question would have been “Yes, I am” or “Yeah, my name’s Peter. Nice to meet you.” But he stared at you for a few seconds trying to come up with anything – the way your eyes lit up keeping him off balance and constantly teetering on some unknown cliff. He held up his camera as some sort of answer before finally breathing out, “Yes, sorry. It’s just a bit early for me.”

Laughing, you waved him off. “I get that. Come on in.” You told him your name and a bit about the place while showing him the few things inside the shop – most of it just being wall-to-wall flowers.

He followed you in, shaking his head and letting his hair flop against his face. Peter swore he tried his hardest not to stare like some love-sick fool, but he watched you lean against the counter like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. You asked, “What can I answer for you, uh…”

“Peter,” he offered as he scribbled down notes of what you’d said in between glances at you, as he didn’t trust himself to remember anything but your name that repeated over and over again in his head like a mantra. “Could you tell me a bit about what happened last night, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Subtlety, less violent this time, you wrapped an arm around your middle again as you nodded. You gave a smile, but it looked like a performance. He could feel your heartbeat.

“Of course. I and another coworker had locked the doors and began shutting the shop down when the man forced himself inside. He… he threatened us with a knife to unload the cash register,” you said, your eyes flicking between Peter’s face and the floor. “Not that we had much to hand over. But luckily we didn’t have to. Spider-Man showed up and stopped him.”

Peter felt some strange sort of pride at how relieved you looked as you continued describing the events once he had gotten there. The tension in your shoulders relaxed, your breathing evened out. Even your smile looked more real, authentic. He’d done that. Not that you knew it. 

You let him take a picture of you for the story he’d write up, not that Jameson would be too pleased about anything in support of Spider-Man. But Peter wasn’t going to pass up on an opportunity to get another picture of you.

Even in black and white, the photo laid out in next week’s newspaper did your kindness justice. It somehow looked imbued within every expression you gave. You were surrounded by flowers and bouquets you had put together yourself. You belonged there, and Peter couldn’t help but feel that he belonged there behind the camera trying to capture you in as many photos as possible – keep you close to him as a picture if he couldn’t have you next to him living, breathing, being you.

And maybe he shouldn’t have, but Peter came back to the shop again and again, quickly becoming your favorite customer. Almost every time, he wanted to buy the flowers just to pass them right back across the counter and give them to you. Instead, Aunt May looked pleasantly surprised every time he came home with them, accompanied by red cheeks and an exasperated look on his face.

–

That photo of you in the flower shop, of your grinning face immortalized as the most beautiful person Peter had met – it was the same photo news outlets and newspapers used for you a few weeks later when you’d been attacked, targeted. He couldn’t bring himself to keep it anymore, not when it sat below headlines that made him sick and hateful.

His inner voice was right, the one that told him to stay away from you. That shouted at him to remember all the other people that’d gotten hurt because they knew him, because someone had found out you were important to Peter. And he didn’t really know you – had no reason to care about you as much as he did. But you’d crashed into his life at a time when he didn’t have many people to care about, especially now that he lived alone.

And he’d gotten to know what book you were reading at the moment, your favorite flower combinations to say just the right thing, the subtle way you quirked your mouth when trying to hide a smile. It’d overridden any self-preservation or reminder of what could happen to you.

Every night on patrol, he watched over your hospital room to make sure no one came near to hurt you. After, he’d spend hours tracking down the crime group that did it. That wanted to rid Spider-Man of the city. He’d almost kept the mug shots of each bloodied scum criminal he took down, who dared put a finger on you.

As Peter, he swallowed down his shame and self-hatred to visit you in the hospital – a bouquet in hand. Opening up your room door, he slipped in, letting out a sharp breath before facing you. The parts inside his chest that had hardened over these past days softened, nearly crumbled, at the way your eyes lit up at seeing him.

“Peter, you came,” you sighed out. You couldn’t move all that well, not with the bruising and the few fractures you sustained, but he could see the energy fighting in your body. Could feel it.

Holding out the flowers toward you, he said, “Yeah, of course I did.” He found himself unable to look at you long, each discolored part of your skin and wince at your body’s pain unbearable to witness.

Your hand brushed his, caressing his fingers as if to tell him it’d be okay, as you took the bouquet. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” Your voice barely broke the humming of the machines hooked up throughout the room, but the smile you hid behind the petals explained your feelings well enough.

He took a seat next to you, his body aching to touch yours in some way. To rest a hand on yours or kiss each bruise you had. But he didn’t, not after what he’d done. “How are you feeling?”

You gave a sad sort of laugh, one that wasn’t funny but at least didn’t bring tears with it. “Let’s just say I’m better now that you’re here.”

He knew you meant it, but it couldn’t be true, not when him being there had led to all of this. Biting back a groan, he said, “I… I wanted to see how you were doing, but I also wanted to say goodbye.” His eyes stayed glued to the tiled floor, speckled in beige and too shiny. “I just–”

“I know it was you.”

Peter Parker always had a smart remark, a witty comeback. Especially when it came to you and the joy he could pull from you. But not now. Your words froze him, sending ice through his skin and shredding down into his nervous system.

You made the first move, reaching out a hand to his knee to stop its shaking. He hadn’t even known he had been shaking his leg. But it made him shut his eyes, force even breaths through his nose.

“There was no way I could forget your voice, or how you tilt your head when you’re confused,” you told him, and his throat felt tight at the slight crack in your voice. “I forgive you, Peter. As long as you don’t say goodbye.”

You made him so careless… carefree, for once in his life. His calloused palms scratched against his face, the pressure of his fingers against his scalp like iron weights – weight as heavy as his mistakes that he paid witness to right in front of him. “I can’t.”

“At least stay with me for a little longer,” you pleaded. Your hand reached up to wrap around his wrist and pull them away, forcing him to look at you. And you smiled, the only smile that he couldn’t resist. So he stayed, holding you until he embedded his fingerprints into your skin.

–

For a long time, Peter had forgotten all about those photos – they were just wishes thrown into the wind for some future he hoped to have with you. So when you took that first picture of you as a couple, a picture of him kissing you on the cheek in Central Park, arms wrapped around one another and no world outside the two of you, how could he think about any other photo?

He’d brought you there after you’d healed, the painful memories faded from your skin. You fell asleep in that hospital bed with your hand entwined in his to find him still there when you awoke. He hadn’t said goodbye.

Peter had asked you out with another bouquet, one that you’d told him meant eternal gratitude and affection. If you hadn’t had gone through everything, maybe you would have been embarrassed at how fast you told him yes. But with the way his honey eyes melted at your answer, you couldn’t regret something like that.

That photo of that first date stayed with him all the time, printed out and everything. Peter did the same for the next one – of you both lounging lazily in his bed and morning sun streaming in through the blinds. Then the same for the one from the photo booth at the mall. His wallet soon stretched against its seams before you made him choose one to keep in there or he’d end up losing all of them somehow. The rest decorated the walls and shelves while others found their way into a shoebox he hid so it’d never be damaged. 

But he never stop taking photos of you to remind himself of what he had. In the middle of cooking dinner, sauce and measuring cups everywhere, he took a picture of you, hands of your hips and trying to not look amused. But he saw you in a way his camera could never capture, so you smiled against your will. Peter even took one while swinging through the air with you, your body clung to his as you tucked your face against his neck. You’d smacked him for that one, but there was no helping him when it came to you.

The one photo he chose to keep tucked against his body, to remind him to make it home, was the one from a family dinner. It looked simple, cute with friends and family surrounding you two with wide smiles, but it’d always been more to him. There was his family, his life far away from his hidden one. The life you had given him.

--

@reidslovely

A/n: Thank you for reading, it means the world.

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍���� 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ꒱ 이민형

summary : one thing about your boyfriend, mark, is that he would always take care of you — even if you were annoyingly drunk — and he was embarrassingly in love

genre : fluff, mark x afab!reader, slice of life tws : language, kissing, mentions of alcohol, pet names author notes : oh he’d be a good boyfriend i just know it word count : 1k

it’s a good thing the elevator in your apartment hadn’t gone out yet, otherwise the man on your arm would’ve been upset—though he’d never let you know that.

he just loved you too much for that. and you kept telling him about how much of a good night it was for you; he’d never dream of ruining that.

“baby,” he stated quietly, pulling your arm around his waist higher, as it kept slipping. “hold on, just a little longer… why’d you have to live on the 10th floor? thank god the elevator isn’t out. is the view really worth it though?” he watched the numbers climb, illuminated electronically above the door.

your eyebrows furrowed, and though you were hunched against him, you willed your head up. deadpanning, you replied. “duh.” to which he just laughed at. “you just don’t get it mark! have you seen it? it’s beautiful! not more than you, but you know.”

“many times—actually, i helped you move in, baby.”

you giggled, head falling into his side. “y-yeah, you did… do you remember haechan falling up the stairs? he wasn’t even carrying anything heavy! oh my god, it was so funny i swear i peed my pants!”

mark thought that, for a drunk girl, you were very good at not sounding slurred with your words. however, standing or walking in a straight line were two very different tasks for you to accomplish in this state. but he thought it was cute that you thought of him to pick you up and make sure you got home safely. he loved that you loved him so much; shared so many memories with him and were still willing to make more. and truthfully, he loved you more.

the elevator dinged, the voice telling you that the doors were now opening. mark braced his arm around you tighter, hiking you up to be, at least a little, straighter.

you trudged along, holding him back with his attempts to keep a steady pace. you knew it was difficult to move on your own accord in your current state but, honestly you could’ve just fallen asleep on the floor if you fell.

“work—with—me—here, y/n. please,” he gritted, practically dragging your giggling figure. “do you even want to sleep in your own bed?”

your eyes narrowed soberly. “are you staying?”

“will that make you walk faster?”

as if possessed, the thought alone was enough to make you straighten your back and begin willing your legs to move—clumsily, but you knew your boyfriend was still a crutch to make sure you didn’t hit the floor.

he laughed in disbelief, then relief once you two finally had made it to your numbered door; mark putting in the passcode and it chiming with satisfaction.

“you scare me sometimes, baby.”

you hopped in place, the door swinging open with the length of his arm. you slumped against the wall, unhooking the strap of your heels and kicking them off.

“let’s go to bed!” and when you were about take off down the hall, a hand grabbed yours and stopped you—your feet comically still stomping in place. your eyebrows furrowed, and you looked over your shoulder in confusion.

“first,” he started, leading you down the hall; for a moment you thought he just didn’t want you to run, but he turned off into your bathroom. he hit the switch and illuminated the room, your eyes shutting instinctively. “your makeup.”

you whined, trying to get out of his grip. “no.”

“you’ll kill me in the morning, babe,” he grabbed your waist, hoisting you onto the counter and trapping you with his body. “it won’t take long.”

your pinky swung from the porcelain and into his view, “promise.” you weren’t asking, and that made him laugh.

his pinky connected with yours. “promise.” he replied adamantly, mimicking your movement and kissing the end of his balled fist.

he got to work, grabbing the remover and a couple cotton rounds. he gently swiped your skin, and you swear your head kept drifting to the side with tiredness. you couldn’t help that your boyfriend was the sole reason you could get a good-nights sleep. instead of trying to keep you up, he grabbed it, huffing out another laugh at your antics, but letting you fully fall asleep in his hand.

mark admired you as he tried his best to get the mascara off, smudging it and making you look a little foolish. he thought you were cute; the way your lips were parted, small snores leaving them. the slight crease of your brows as he put your moisturizer and serums on. he swears he could feel his heart swell, knowing you were just that comfortable around him—so adamant to have him by your side—to have him love you.

and he did.

he loved you so fucking much. his future was you. if he was your world, you were his sun. you were his lifeline. you were the one person he knew he could rely on without contest. if he was a producer, you were his muse. everything revolved around you. even if his thoughts weren’t originally for you, they’d eventually make their way back to you. he was excited to talk to you about anything and everything. he was blindsided by a love as strong as this mutual one. he’d die for you, and that’s why he lives.

honestly, he was so embarrassingly emotional right now for you, he could feel the tears welling up.

he swallowed the lump in his throat, grabbing the other side of your head and watching as you blinked blearily.

you smiled sleepily. “when’d you get here, baby?”

he could feel your arms climb to be around his neck, pulling him and simultaneously pushing yourself to get body-to-body. you always craved the warmth (even without thinking) like you were cold-blooded.

“i’m always here.” he kissed the side of your mouth, whispering against your lips. “now, let’s go to bed?”

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[cainhowlett]

One of the earliest linocuts I made, big bulky line work.

[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 ©

[charlesleclercc-16]

leo: *barking*

charles: no leo, no!

leo: *kept barking defiantly*

stop he’s just a baby 🥺🤏🏻

[silly-stings]

what i like to call, girlfailyuri

[stormyelliotwritez]

walk with me…

ftm reader who has been in love with logan for years but he thinks logan is straight and also logan like wont stop being in love with jean and is absolutely OBLIVIOUS that r likes him.. (literally all the other x men know) and honestly this can be like super angsty or just silly idc whatever the vibe u best think works

im gonna somehow go with mostly angst coz thats my fav so here goes

tw for gender dysphoria related to wanting to fit logan’s so called type

BUT HE’S STRAIGHT?

Logan was staring at Jean again. This was like the fifth time just this staff meeting. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take this. Maybe Charles would let you go lay down if you faked a fever but maybe he’d do the whole psychic thing and realize you were fine.

You sat through the rest of the meeting and then left quickly, feeling like a loser. It’s been years and he still hasn’t noticed you. He’s always staring at Jean who’s literally been in love with Scott since they met. Why won’t he stare at you? How the fuck is he straight? But alas, he is.

You walked to your room, tugging at your shirt and wishing it would fit better. Maybe he’d have noticed you if you weren’t a boy, if you’d stayed what you’d been born as. Maybe if you were still her, he’d think you were cute. Maybe he’d look at you how he looked at Jean.

You slammed your door shut and clambered onto your bed, curling up into a ball. You stayed there, just thinking, until eventually you fell asleep.

In the morning, you got up and after showering and getting dressed, you threw on the jacket you’d stolen from Logan a few months ago, the one with the school’s logo. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. It’s not like he ever noticed you.

You went about your day, bumping into Scott who made a faux growl sound like Logan’s to tease you and then bumping into Hank who sniffed your jacket and then applauded you on managing to steal from Logan. Later in the day, you ran head first into Storm, when you were trying to avoid Logan, and she glanced at him and then meowed at you teasingly. You’d swear on someone’s grave that the only person who didn’t know about your years old crush was the man himself, Logan.

You managed to avoid Logan all day until… dinner. He was sitting opposite the spot you always sat in. He was sitting there. Why was he sitting there was a question you couldn’t answer. You tugged at your jumper while holding your plate with one hand and you walked over to him.

“Logan,” you said with a nod.

“Bub,” he said back before looking you over.

He didn’t say anything about the jacket. He just sat there and ate his dinner and then stood up. He walked around to your side and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Nice jacket, bub.”

He then walked off, just like that.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? He didn’t know though. He would know about your ridiculous crush if he was listening to your heartbeat right now. Oh my god, so he knew you’d stolen it but he couldn’t put the damn pieces together?

You finished your dinner and walked off. You were halfway to your room when someone grabbed your hand and pulled you into an empty classroom. The door was slammed and you were disoriented in the dark.

“You like me, bub?”

That was Logan’s voice. Wait, he knew? How? But…

“Come on, I ain’t got all day,” he said abruptly.

You nodded. You were quite sure he could see in the dark and the scoff he made seemed to say so. How could you have been so stupid? He was probably going to hate you now. He was straight. He’d always been straight and in love with Jean. He was oblivious. He’d always been oblivious. He could never like you. You weren’t a girl, no matter how hard you wanted to still be one so he’d like you. Your heart was racing and soon enough, you were hyperventilating.

His hands were on your shoulders and you were being pulled into a hug, a hug that smelt of wood and fuel. He was hugging you?

“It’s okay, I got you, bub,” he placed a light kiss on your forehead, “I swing both ways, you know.”

You’d always hated that he was still taller than you, one of the downsides of not getting on T until your 20’s and- wait, what? He swings both ways?

“You-you do?” You said once your breathing had slowed.

He nodded. You couldn’t see it but you could feel it. He could like you… as you, as a man? You didn’t have to be someone else? You could just be you.

“Yep, now let’s go. I think there’s two beers calling our names in the teacher’s lounge,” he said before opening the door and pulling you out of the classroom. “Jean mentioned your little crush and now I gotta hear all about how you’ve been pining for me for years.”

Curse you, Jean, but thanks, was all you could think as you just nodded and walked with him to the teachers lounge.

pt 2 - he’s not straight?

[seunghansgf]

Dom Anton eating you out, tying up your legs with pretty pink ribbons and eating you out and overstimming you 🤭🩷

all over you! 🦕ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི : lee chanyoung x reader

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ plot! : anton just wanted to try a little something out on you, but what more fun would it be if he had used bows instead?!

۶ৎ warnings!? : dom & sub dynamics! dumbfication! overstim! rope bunny reader! anton is a TINYYY bit of a meanie here! pet names! pussy eating <3 !

≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼ if u are in anyway, uncomfortable with smut of anton or smut in general, please do not proceed beyond the ‘read more’ ! if you’re aware of what you will be reading then continue and please enjoy!

you weren’t AGAINST the idea of being tied up by your boyfriend, oh never that. but when he had pulled out pink ribbons, your mind has gone in circles like no other, he had never specified what he would be using to tie you up. “do you think you can be a good girl for me tonight, baby?” anton said as he finished up tying the pretty ribbon on your legs, you nodded as you felt your heart palpitate in your chest, you were extremely excited to see what he had in mind of what to do you. “okay, now, you can’t move too much, can you do that for me baby?” he asked again as he unbuttoned his white shirt, oh god he looked so good. he needed this destress and he’s so glad that you are allowing him to do so tonight. you nodded again one last time as you stared at him, he gave his sweet smile before diving his head in between your thighs.

and here you are, on your 5th orgasm of the night, already nearly fucked out by your precious boyfriend. “t-tonnie.. c-can’t..” you whined out as his tongue worked wonders on your clit, his fingers continuously pumping themselves in ‘n out of your pretty cunt, all he did was hum in response, his free hand holding up your legs so he was able to continue. “tonie please..” you begged as your moans had gotten shakier, feeling your 4th orgasm reach closer and closer, oh how good your boyfriend was with his mouth, you wanted to run your fingers through his hair, you really did but he had your wrists tied to the headboard to prevent you from pushing him away. “you can take some more, baby, i know you can.” anton said in that sweet little voice, it was laced with a hint of fake sympathy for you, he knows how to make you melt for him and he will always use it against you.

“b-but.. ‘s too much!” you whined out yet again only to earn a chuckle from anton, his fingers still pumping in ‘n out of you, your moans got higher as his fingers pressed up against that heavenly spot making you arch your back. “it’s never too much baby, just one more, yeah?” he said before burying his pretty face back into your cunt, his tongue lapping and sucking on your folds and clit. you felt yourself shake even more, oh it was just wayy too much for your poor cunt and you know it. anton continued his actions on you, continuously sucking your clit as his fingers ruined you even more. “tonie.. g-gonna cum… let me cum..” you whined and moaned out to him as he chuckled before speeding up his actions, you had gone dumb and couldn’t coherently think anymore, your orgasm getting so close as if you could explode.

anton lapped his tongue on your folds and pumped his fingers faster, humming against you, you let out a high pitched moan and whine. arching your back as you came one final time on your boyfriend’s face. anton chuckled and slowly pulled out his fingers and licked them clean before cleaning you up with a warm wet towel and untying the ribbons. “you did sooo good, my love.” he said as he finished cleaning you up and fixing his shirt you had been wearing, you can only look up at him and smile shyly before falling asleep in his arms, anton smiled and held you close to him.

“i love you.”

[freakywonbin]

The baby is tired

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

磯野宏夫 Hirō Isono (1945-2013 Japanese)

[quinnysnursery]

hihi, so happy to see you back!! missed you lots, congrats on graduating!!

i saw you had requests back open again, and i was wondering if you could do preferences for the caregivers with a very sensitive little who practically cries at everything, is painfully shy, and needs comfort and reassurance 24/7 :(

-🦕

[🪄] the cg's with a sensitive little! | preferences

including : matt, chris, nick, nate, tara, johnnie, jake, carrington, sam and colby

divider credit : @v6que

a/n : i KNOW i had one other preferences post and i literally searched my entire account and can't find it, so ig it's lost media now 😭

Matt :

🩹 provides the BEST comfort

🦈 "i know hun, that thunder was pretty scary, wasn't it?" "yeah :(" "that's alright, dada's here now."

🫧 knows all your triggers/unsafe foods 'n textures

🩹 and does BACKBENDS to avoid them

🦈 "don' want sandwich :(" "oh no! dada's having a sandwich, little one is having mac and cheese. sound good?" "c: yeah!"

🫧 painfully shy? no worries, so is matt. he understands 🫶

Chris :

🥤chris....is loud

💫 "bein' too loud" "wha? oh, sorry hun!"

🤍 however, he does make the best boxed mac 'n cheese

🥤shy little? no worries! chris talks enough for the both of you

💫 constantly wiping your tears with his hoodie sleeve

🤍 "will a lollipop make things better?" ":( yeah"

Nick :

🌟 will ALWAYS be down to sit at home on bad sensory days

🗞️ always coming up with creative ways to bring his little out of their shell

🎥 "if only someone here loved bluey...." ":O i love bluey!"

🌟 best reassurance ever, "y'know i don't mind taking care of you, right?"

🗞️ can always IMMEDIATELY recognize when you're about to cry

🎥 "shhh, dada's here. let it out, i know baby..."

Nate :

🏒 unlike nick, he can NOT tell when you're about to cry and is always caught off guard

🌨 "oh! oh honey...shh, don't cry"

⛸ always tries making you laugh as his first response

🏒 lets you wear his hoodies on extremely tough days

🌨 "is that helping?" "mhm :c smells like dada :c"

⛸ he's got the spirit

Tara :

❤️ tara, bless her heart, did not realize how sensitive you were at first

🎞️ "baby, i was only gone five minutes!" ":c i'm sorry!" "oh no honey...don't be sorry, mama's sorry, mama should've let you know i was leaving"

🎵 cuddles !! with !! sugar !!

❤️ painfully shy? that's not a problem at all! just like chris, tara talks enough for the both of you!

🎞️  always holding onto her babies hand or hugging them :(

🎵 "mama's got you sweet girl/boy/little one"

Johnnie :

🦇 johnnie is a bit nervous when he realizes just how sensitive you are

🌒 because he's petrified of being the reason you cry

🐈‍⬛ "do you need a hug?" "mhm :(" "okay princess/prince, c'mere"

🦇 plays guitar/sings songs for you when your having a really bad day/night

🌒 "hollyw'od!" "we've already done that one five times, sweetheart." ":c" "okay okay, hollywood it is."

🐈‍⬛ ends up learning your triggers and does his best to avoid them

Jake :

♣️ oh jake, sweet jake...

🍒 he never INTENDS to make you cry

♠️ but with his loud personality and constant bouncing around? yeah...it ususally ends with

♣️ ":( 'oo loud" "dada's sorry baby...i didn't realize i was being so loud"

🍒 loves cracking jokes to make you smile

♠️ "there's the pretty smile!"

Carrington :

🧸 the best at making you laugh while your sad/crying

🍬 also loves just cradling you in his arms while you sit on his lap

🎧 "dada's got you"

🧸 human teddy bear so, snuggles are a must

🍬 learns your nonverbal cues when you don't feel like talking

🎧 "do we want....mac and cheese?" ":c" 'okay...what about...grilled cheese?" "c:" "grilled cheese it is!"

Sam :

🎥 the most reassuring man ever

👻 "sorry i got scared :(" "oh sweetheart, you don't have to apologize. everyone gets scared sometimes!"

💛 constantly lending his little an article of clothing for comfort

🎥 the BEST at tending to boo-boos

👻 speaking for you when your feeling shy

💛 "they're feeling a little shy right now, what's up?"

Colby :

👻 this man...THIIIISS MAN

⛓ the most protective cg imo

🦴 "what's scaring you hun? do we need to go home? does dada need to fight a ghost?"

👻 lets you play with his rings/necklaces as a distraction

⛓ wrapping his arms around you and assuring you he's got you :(

🦴 "tell dada's whats going on?"

taglist !! :

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[reidslovely]

i am not a top gun girly but miles teller is adorable and

i know some top gun girlies do follow me this is for y’all. go read this rn and show abby some love because i love her and this is a demand

Home in Time

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x gn!reader

Summary: Bradley comes home early on the first snowfall of the year.

Word count: ~1.5k

Warnings: Some suggestiveness, tiny bit of language. Lots of fluff

A/N: Thank you for being patient with me during Nanowrimo. Glad to have this written and finished finally as just a little blurb. Hope I did Rooster’s character right. I love this soft boy. Thank you as always for reading, and I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Keep reading

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓! ꒱ 김동현

summary : you’ve been bored of your boyfriends calm demeanor, so you decided to prank him just to see if he’d start a fight—however, it gave you something much better

genre : kinda angsty, suggestive, leehan x afab!reader tws : language, kinda toxic behavior, suggestive content author notes : sorry this took a while i’ve been supah swamped but i hope you enjoyed the direction i took your request in !! word count : 1.4k

you don’t know why you were doing this. even as you applied the black, green and blue makeup, you couldn’t think of a valid reason. yet, here you were, sat on your couch scrolling through your phone, just awaiting the opportunity to prank your sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend.

maybe he’d gotten too comfortable in your relationship. hell, you used whatever excuse to try and justify it. but, the truth is, you wanted to see if he had it in him to get mad at you. he was so damn peaceful all the time—you loved that about him, really—nonetheless, deep down, your heart raced with the thought; the anticipation when he’d finally catch a glimpse of your artwork that he’d deem someone else’s.

this was fun.

you knew it’d work. you’ve never let leehan purposefully leave marks on your skin, not because it didn’t feel good to have him kiss you, but simply because you’ve always found them tacky and a hassle to cover up. you’d wasted so much makeup in the past trying to do so, so whenever he’d come close to leaving purple patches, you’d tell him to stop. he’d even bargained with leaving them in places only he could see, but you still refused. especially if you couldn’t return the favor.

you knew this was an evil way to push his buttons, that you oh-so-desperately wanted to see pushed. it was selfish, really, however at this moment in time the plan was already set into action. you wanted to start a fight, just to see if he could.

he’s never gotten mad at you. he’s never yelled at you. he’s never dared put a hand on you. and that was a dream, but somewhere deep down, you knew it was also just as boring as it was desirable. you wanted him to yell at you. at least once. manhandle you— consensually, of course. you wanted so much, and maybe this wasn’t the right way to bring it up, but it didn’t matter anymore as his voice broke through the silenced air.

“what’s that?”

“what’s what?” you asked, acting obliviously as you scrolled through twitter and instagram in turns.

he shrugged, and you don’t know if it was the fact that he seemingly didn’t care, or if it was that maybe he just brushed it under the rug as anything else, that began to piss you off.

nonetheless, you decided you were in it for the long run. after all, you wanted to see if he’d start the fight.

and throughout the rest of the afternoon you’d catch leehan staring in your direction, shifting his gaze when you’d make eye-contact. he kept a calm demeanor, never asking again what the purple marks on your neck were. he’d even hugged you before he left for practice, getting all up close and personal with the artwork.

you were finding it hard to believe he hadn’t noticed.

maybe he was gathering his thoughts. maybe he was trying to decided why you didn’t smell like another man—why he knew you wouldn’t do that to him. maybe as much as his buttons were pushed, this was it for his stemmed anger. maybe dance practice was his way to relieve the stress you caused from time-to-time. maybe the cool, calm and collected leehan was the only version of your otherwise, smiley, boyfriend.

maybe you were beginning to feel bad because you had no idea the feelings he had towards this prank. did it upset him? you wouldn’t be none-the-wiser to it if it had. he was good at shielding emotions, and maybe that’s where you needed to draw the line. maybe that’s where your conversation should’ve began, instead of whatever the hell tiktok had inspired you to do.

you kept looking at the clock on your home screen, counting down the minutes until he’d come back to you. and just as you had decided to end the prank, opting for a civil—adult-ish—conversation, a text illuminated your dark screen.

it read: we need to talk.

yet you couldn’t decipher the hidden meaning. of course you knew what it was about, that’s the only thing that’s been wrong throughout the last few months between you two. what else could it be? and why, now that you were finally getting what you wanted, didn’t it feel good?

you didn’t answer him, partially because you didn’t know what to say; it was a prank. i just wanted to see if you’d get mad at me. i’m so bored of this. nothing seemed correct, or frankly, truthful.

you also knew that he wasn’t far. he wouldn’t have texted you otherwise, just to torcher you—though it would’ve been deserved. so, you waited by the door for your boyfriend to get back, the thought of washing away the eyeshadow long gone.

then, it finally opened with the pattern of your key code. the air became thick and you found it hard to swallow with a lump in your throat. were you sorry? yes. did you feel bad for being immature? yes. was a tiny part of you still curious to see how this would play out?

yes.

"y/n," was the first, and only, thing he muttered for a couple of excruciatingly long minutes. you watched as he put his bag down, eyed him as he took his shoes off, and almost burst when he ran a hand through his hair. maybe leehan was able to torture you, even if unintended.

his eyes finally met yours, but then they drifted to your neck, and further to your collar bone. he knew. he's known since the first question left his lips hours and hours ago.

"what's that?" his arms snaked between each other, and you found it wrong to think it was hot, but you very much did.

almost like deja vu, the same feeling crept up from down within you. "what's what?" you reenacted. although this time, he didn't let it go. he approached you quickly, too fast to get away before you were sandwiched between the plaster and his body.

his hands were slow with movements. those oh-so-stupid-fucking-hands that had you, literally, at his fingertips. one forcing your head by your jaw to expose your neck, while the other brushed away the hair that disguised the marks from his view.

you fronted being indifferent, but truth be told, if he wasn't holding you up your knees would have buckled already, leaving you as a mess on the floor in front of him.

"you must think i don't know you," he voiced, holding eye-contact as he pushed his thumb between your lips, gathering just enough saliva to then press the digit to your neck and swipe. and it smudged with enough force, despite being labeled as waterproof. "tell me why you felt the need to paint these on. i couldn't think of one good reason all day, princess."

and the nickname he always called you—innocently and less than—had your heart in absolute shambles; the anticipation was just as good as if he'd raised his voice, you thought.

maybe your vanilla-scented boyfriend had finally gotten the hint that you wanted more, despite going about it in a less than thoughtful way. and maybe you realized that you didn't hate that he was always nice, no you loved that about him, but sometimes it was okay if he wanted to be a little bit meaner with you. after all, he could always say my... anything he wanted, and that would still mean that he saw you as his forever only.

"i-i," you couldn't think straight when he attached his lips over the previously (fakely) marked spots. his breath was hot, lips gentle then firm as he sucked against the spots he knew you'd rarely let him have his way with. "i—uh, fuck. leehan,"

his voice was low against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and a whimper up your throat. "if you wanted something, you could've just asked me, baby. i'd give you anything."

the eyes that you've grown comfortable with always seemed to be there despite the firm placement he had you in. you knew he loved you more than anything, so you knew his words were true. and his demeanor broke when he kissed your lips, almost giving you whiplash.

his palms laid flat against your cheeks, thumbs rubbing sweetly. "if you wanted everyone to know that you're mine, let me do it myself."

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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[honeypleasejustkillme]

hey (with intentions of building a dinosaur lego set together)

[termagax]

roadhog has discovered baseball

[mattscoquette]

imagine like sleepily riding matts thigh ugh like its js like

Quiet whimpers leave your mouth as you continue to ride matts thigh. Matt grabs your hips, lifting up your (his) shirt that you're wearing, giving him full view of your white laced panties. You feel the knot in your stomach tightening, signaling you were close. Matt notices your speeding up. He speaks to you softly "You alright?" you nod your head and answer "'m gonna cum." Matt smirks and chuckles "You gonna cum?" you nod your head and moan softly "'m gonna cum, please matt." "Go ahead sweetheart, you're doing so well f'me. Love seeing my girl like this."

-🦕

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