⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ SUNSCREEN KISSES 🧸ྀི — your big baby newlywed husband matthew really wants to play in the water >:( ( word count 515 )
[ extras ] kissing ^_^ newlyweds, implied honeymoon (never mentioned but i had it in mind ok im tewlling you now)
ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! inspired by those pics, next question.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡 ⋆. ˚ 𓇼 @kstrucknet
the sun was prickling your skin, sweat droplets rolling down your back.
matthew just sighed dramatically, causing you to look up.
"one moment, baby. some patience, please" you giggled. he just huffed. you wore he would stomp his feet like a dissatisfied kid any minute now. you glanced at his disposed chest for a while before diving back into your bag.
the sand beneath your feet was warm, not burning. thanks to the umbrella that matthew planted next to your spot, it threw a shadow over you.
"got it!" you hummed and showed him the yellow sunscreen tube. he grinned and you were sure it was because it meant being one step closer to the water. nope.
it was because your wedding ring almost blinded him in the sunlight.
he sat down, back facing you. his legs were crossed and he started playing with the sand.
you were humming underneath your breath as you put some sunscreen on your hand. then, you gently started spreading it on his muscular, wide back.
"oof, it's cold" he giggled, the sensation making him shiver. you were thoroughly massaging the lotion in, especially on his tattooed areas.
your fingers lingered over his left shoulder blade, tracing the ink mindlessly.
"are you done yet?" he whined, back slumping. you just laughed.
"nope! matthew, i swear, if you get a sun burn i will not…" you started and he looked over his shoulder.
"can i at least have some to put on my face already?" he asked.
you handed him the suncream with a soft smile and continued to put more over his neck. he handed you the bottle back and you put some more on your hands, spreading it on his sides. sliding your hands down slowly, matthew shivered at the coldness of your wedding ring against his skin.
"mhm, done." you called.
he turned around, eyes wide and sparkling with childish joy.
"wait—!" you huffed, noticing how he didn't even bother to massage in the lotion on his face. white splotches of suncream were visible on his cheeks.
you stood up and cupped his face.
"you're so impatient" you giggled, your fingers working on his skin. matthew put his hands on your waist, grinning.
"i just want to play in water, okay?" he chuckled, gazing at you lovingly. "but seriously though, thank you wifey."
you didn't even try to suppress a smile at the nickname.
"okay, now you're all good. give me a kiss and you can go" you ordered. matthew was so eager to go - just run like a maniac into the water already - that when he leaned in to peck your lips, he knocked off the sunglasses off your head.
"ow!" you giggled.
"my bad" he scoffed and leaned down to grab them.
but his eyes widened when you suddenly sprinted towards the water, sand sparkling beneath your feet.
"the last one in the water is an idiot and a loser!" he heard you yell and his mouth fell agape.
as he started chasing you, he thought you two were really destined to lead a married life.
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Hiii can u write gunwook x reader. something like size kink reader is smaller, suggestive. Thankssss!!
hii! <3 omfg i'm kinda a sucker for size kink ksaksljkjadklsj dunno if that’s what you were going for tho i made it a little shorter and didn't hold back on spicy stuff. hope it still will be to your liking!! love you, take care ❤️
જ⁀➴ ♡ gunwook with a size kink!
synopsys: gunwook realizes he enjoys being bigger than you a little too much.
notes: whew! i think i got carried away but who wouldn't so... enjoy the food (p*rn)
ఌ︎. it started very innocently. the first thing gunwook noticed when he met you was how small you were. compared to him, you just looked so... tiny. maybe it was the height difference or the difference in build, but he couldn't comprehend the feeling of looming over you when standing close.
ఌ︎. you two quickly became friends — you shared the same friend group in college and happened to have similar interests. you got him wrapped around your finger in no time. you talked during classes, study sessions and free time about everything, be it music, clothes, or sports. gunwook loved how easy it was to be with you — he found pieces of himself in you. you started to actually spend time together outside university, going out to grab coffee, watch a new movie, or sweat a little at the gym. the last thing was your favourite activity. and every time he saw you stuffing your gym set back into your bag after a successful treadmill run, he wondered how the hell you were able to squeeze into those tiny clothes. it looked like they could fit a baby???
ఌ︎. gunwook was slowly spiraling, actually. half a year had passed, and he found himself giving you longing looks, looking for you in crowds, craving your touch 24/7. the boy was head over heels for you! and with every non-official date, it was getting harder and harder for him to stay composed.
ఌ︎. like the one time you two decided to take a break from cramming all day and went to the café to quickly grab some americano. gunwook proposed that he'd go, and you could just stay in the library and watch your belongings. he was back in less than five minutes. a slight blush on his cheeks and panting got seemingly worse the moment he felt your small fingers brush against his as he was trying to hand you your cup. his mind short-circuited for a minute, trying to process the fact that your hand was like half the size of his.
ఌ︎. or the other time when you ended up failing one of your tests and gunwook came to yours to try and cheer you up. he found you curled up on your bed under a pile of blankets and pillows, soft sniffling and hiccups filling the room. his heart broke. he knew this test was important to you, and he saw how hard you were working for it.
"you know you're still smart and that one test doesn't change anything."
he tried his best to give you comfort through words, but no matter what, you seemed to be completely deaf to his support. after some time and endless reasoning, he shot all his rounds and found himself hopeless about how to bring you out of your crying fit. so he decided to use his last resort and climbed onto the bed behind you. caging you in his arms, he pulled you to his chest and started to whisper sweet nothings in your ear while at the same time drawing small patterns on your tummy. and as much as he wanted to focus on giving you comfort, he couldn't escape the mind-blowing realization that he could easily envelop you whole. his stomach twisted involuntarily.
ఌ︎. oh, and did i mention — one time you went to the amusement park, and gunwook thought it would be so cute to ride the ferris wheel together and look at the view of the city from up high. and he was so excited that you would really feel bad if you said "no" to him, so despite your fear of heights, you hopped into the small cabin of the ferris wheel. the second the door locked, you attached yourself to gunwook. most of the ride was not so bad. your friend quickly sensed you were stressed and, struck by remorse, kept talking to you about everything and nothing just to keep you from looking down. but when you got to the highest point, the cabin swayed uncontrollably, and suddenly the ride came to a halt. your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at the sudden movement, and you glued yourself to gunwook's arm as if your life depended on it. you started to panic, asking him what happened as if he would give you an answer. but gunwook truly couldn't be bothered about hanging several meters above the ground on a broken attraction with you close to crying your eyes out and attached to his side as if with superglue. not when he could feel your entire body wrapped around the whole length of his arm — were you really the size of his upper limb???
ఌ︎. and so all those moments were only building up to the fact that gunwook — let's face it — was stupidly turned on by the size difference between you and him. this fact actually motivated him the most when going to the gym. a chance to be even bigger, even more dominating — this image was awakening something so primal in him that even he himself was stunned. he didn't know why, but he felt the need to protect you, to shield you in a way, to keep you safe and sound. and he felt completely capable of it, already being bulky and benching 1.5x his own body weight. but still, he wanted to get better — for you.
ఌ︎. caring glances started to take the form of not-so-subtle staring. he couldn't help himself! whenever you were near, his mind, like on autopilot, flashed him images of how freaking easy it would be to pull you up right then and there, wherever you were standing. how he would have no problem handling you, angling your body however he wanted. how small you would look under his body. how tight you would feel around him. how-
"wook, are you alright?"
the concern in your voice is pretty clear as your petite hand lands gently on his shoulder in an affectionate way. gunwook has to practically shake himself out of his trance before he regains his composure.
"yeah, sorry. just thinking about all the assignments."
hopefully, it sounds convincing enough.
"i was thinking maybe you'd like to come to mine since we still have to make some small changes to our project?"
your innocent eyes will be the death of him. those two twinkling orbs are staring straight into his soul, and gunwook knows it's a life-or-death situation.
"oh yeah, sounds good. i have lots of free time today!"
ఌ︎. and that's how he ended up next to you on your bed - you visibly focused on picking the prettiest font for the slides and him focused on not having a boner right here and there. oh, he can only wonder how would you look with the same focused gaze but working on making him come in your mouth. he can bet his hand is big enough to grab your whole head - it would be so easy to make you do it just how he wants. you wouldn't have to do anything and he would be able to observe how with every thrust your throat is bulging a bit and it's all his fault! and then, with a flick of his finger, you would be lying down, and he would be hovering over you, watching you squirm as you tried to loosen up your pussy for only one of his fat fingers cause there's no way you can fit more there - you're way too small. gunwook would have to spend hours shaping your cunt with his fingers first before he gives you his cock because he don't want to be responsible for splitting you in half like that. but eventually you would be ready and he would give it to you with pleasure! he believes he would be able to cum in his pants just thinking about slowly entering you, feeling the tight squeeze of your walls, the grip so strong he has to stop midway to catch his breath. your whines filling the room, blabbering something that he's "too big" and "it won't fit, no way". but he knows you're a tough cookie and you wouldn't give up that easily. he's putting all of his trust in you that you'll make it fit in the end. even if it means his huge cock is going to make a visible bulge in your tummy every time he kisses your cervix with his tip. and if you would let him cum inside? oh boy, you would be drowning in his sperm. his mouth are watering at the sheer though of the mess he would make between your tighs, on your tummy, on your face...
but this has to wait. at least till you're done choosing between times new roman and arial. first duties then pleasures.
genres: fluff, a bit of angst, hurt/comfort. no warnings. sung hanbin x reader.
a/n: this is um... extremely self indulgent. I'm very homesick rn and i just needed some comfort lol. a hug from binnie would solve all my problems ngl.
⑅ . ⑅
You snuggled into the arms wrapped around you, savouring the warmth you had been craving all week.
"Pat my head, please."
Hanbin chuckled at your words, his hand coming up to run his fingers through your hair softly, patting you gently while whispering.
"You missed me that much?"
You nodded slowly against his neck, relaxing under his touch, the weight of week finally lifting. "It was so hard."
His eyes softened at your words, his heart aching a little at the vulnerability in your tone, instinctively pulling you closer.
"I hated it. Being away from here, being away from you..." You muttered, tears pricking your eyes at the thought of it.
You weren't used to staying away from home. Even as a kid, you were always surrounded by your parents and loved ones, the idea of being away from them only filled you with dread.
Yet, as you grew up, it became inevitable. You learned to cope, to hide your feelings, but...
That didn't mean it hurt any less.
He knew it too.
"I know." He muttered, his eyes soft as he brushed your hair aside to plant a kiss on your forehead. "But you did it. I'm so proud of you."
You felt his hands cup your face, wiping away a tear you hadn’t even noticed had fallen.
He then smiled at you, a simple gesture but it was enough to make your heart swoon. "It's okay now, I'm here. I got you."
You nodded, burying your face into his neck, letting the tears fall free, not from sadness but from a sense of peace and contentment, calming down as you took in the familiar scent. The scent of him...
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pairing: zhang hao x fem!reader || wc: 1.6k || cw: fluff!! kissing, playful teasing || warnings: none! || a/n: first work of the year and it had to be one of my jebes <3
the snow starts at 4:17 a.m.
you know this because you have been awake since 3:58, staring at the ceiling, listening to the hush outside that only fresh snow makes. you can feel it in your bones the way sailors feel storms: the city has gone softer, slower, muffled. when you finally peel yourself out of bed and tiptoe to the window, seoul is already wearing a thick white blanket, every streetlight haloed, every ugly rooftop suddenly beautiful.
you press your forehead to the cold glass and whisper, “zhang hao.”
from the bed comes a sleepy, sweet groan. “no.”
“hao.”
“it is minus ten. my blood has frozen. i am a corpse. let me rest in peace.”
you turn. he has burritoed himself into the duvet so thoroughly that only the top of his dark hair and one dramatically closed eye are visible. the eye cracks open just enough to glare.
“there’s eight centimetres already,” you say. “maybe ten. it’s perfect packing snow. if we don’t go now the kids will destroy it by noon.”
“let the children have their joy,” he mumbles into the pillow. “i will send them a condolence fruit basket.”
you have prepared for this. you cross the room, open the drawer, and shake the secret weapon: the limited-edition hot chocolate mix you mail-ordered from belgium, the one with the tiny star-shaped marshmallows he pretends he doesn’t love but has hidden three emergency packets of in his violin case.
the duvet shifts. a nose appears. it sniffs the air like a truffle pig.
“...with whipped cream?” he asks, voice still husky from sleep.
“and cinnamon. and i’ll let you pick the snowman’s entire outfit from your closet.”
a long, suffering sigh. the duvet avalanche slides off and zhang hao sits up, hair sticking out in seventeen directions, cheeks creased from the pillow, looking so unfairly beautiful you almost feel bad for blackmailing him.
almost.
“you are evil,” he declares, but he’s already reaching for the thermal shirt you throw at him.
twenty minutes later you are both outside in the courtyard behind the apartment building, the one nobody ever uses because the gate sticks and the ajumma on the third floor yells if you’re too loud after 10 p.m. it is 6:48 a.m. and the world is silver-blue and silent except for your boots crunching and hao’s dramatic shivering.
he is wearing three heat-tech layers, alongside with the world’s fluffiest scarf wrapped four times around his neck. and your mittens because his are “in the wash” (they are not).
you are vibrating. actual vibrations. you drop to your knees and start rolling a snowball immediately.
hao stands there for a full minute, arms crossed, watching you like you’re a nature documentary.
“come on,” you call, already pushing a ball the size of a yoga ball. “base first! we need a thicc bottom!”
he snorts so hard he has to pull the scarf down to breathe. “you said thicc.”
“are you five?”
he finally kneels — gracefully, because he can’t even kneel like a normal person — and starts rolling his own snowball. his is neater, rounder, more perfectly spherical because of course it is. zhang hao does not make ugly snow spheres.
you roll in parallel for a while, breath fogging, cheeks stinging. the snow is perfect: sticky enough to pack, light enough to lift. your base grows huge and slightly lopsided. hao’s is already taller than his waist and looks like it belongs in a department store display.
“okay,” you pant, “lift on three?”
he eyes your crooked boulder. “are you sure that thing isn’t alive?”
“one.”
“it’s looking at me.”
“two.”
“i swear it just blinked.”
“three!”
you both heave. the base thuds into place with a satisfying fwump. hao steps back, hands on hips, surveying it like an architect.
“it’s deranged,” he decides fondly. “i love it.”
the middle section is easier. hao rolls while you shape, occasionally stealing his gloves to warm your fingers because he keeps dramatically blowing on them and making heart eyes at you. every time you pat the snow smooth he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, leaving tiny warm spots that the cold immediately steals.
halfway through the torso you lose control of the ball. it veers left, picks up speed, and you chase it yelling until you trip and face-plant directly into a drift.
silence.
then hao’s laugh rings out, bright and startled and gorgeous, the one that makes his eyes crinkle into crescents. he doubles over, scarf slipping, tears in his eyes.
“you look like a snow monster!” he wheezes.
you pop up covered in snow, hair full of it, grinning like a maniac. “your turn!”
he squeals as you lunge, but he’s too slow. you tackle him gently into the drift and rub snow in his scarf until he’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe.
“mercy!” he gasps. “i surrender! i’ll build you ten snowmen!”
you let him up. he sits there for a second, snow in his lashes, cheeks cherry-red, staring at you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. then he cups your cold face with his gloved hands and kisses you soft and slow, tasting like frost and sleep and home.
“you’re crazy,” he murmurs against your lips.
“you love me.”
“unfortunately.”
you finish the snowman together. the head is hao’s masterpiece: perfectly round, gently smiling because he sculpted the tiniest curve with his thumb. he gives it his own scarf — the pale blue cashmere one you bought him in paris — because “he deserves luxury.” you add two chunks of charcoal you found in the barbecue corner for eyes and a baby carrot you definitely watched him grab from the fridge this morning.
arms are tricky. hao finds two perfect branches and arranges them like the snowman is mid-violin-bow. you step back to admire.
it is... magnificent. slightly drunk-looking, wearing designer cashmere, holding invisible violin arms, carrot nose already listing left because hao insisted on “character.”
“he looks like he’s about to play vivaldi and then cry about it,” hao says proudly.
“yeah, just like you,” you say.
hao gasps in mock offense, then steals your phone to take seventeen selfies with the snowman and exactly one where he’s kissing your iced cheek while you flip off the camera.
you’re both shivering now, fingers numb even inside gloves, noses dripping, but neither of you move to go inside.
hao suddenly kneels again, packs a tiny snowball, and writes something in the snow at the base of the snowman’s feet. you lean over his shoulder.
“you + me = forever”
your heart does backflips.
he looks up at you, snowflakes melting on his lashes, shy smile barely there. “too cheesy?”
you tackle him into the snow again.
this time he doesn’t even pretend to fight. he just pulls you down on top of him and kisses you until you can’t feel the cold anymore, until the only thing in the universe is his mouth and his hands and the soft happy noise he makes when you bite his bottom lip.
eventually you have to go inside or risk actual frostbite. hao carries you piggyback the whole way because your boots are “traitors” and he claims chivalry. you leave snowy footprints and laughter all the way up the stairs.
inside, the apartment is warm and smells like cinnamon from the promised hot chocolate. hao makes you sit on the kitchen counter while he unwraps all the layers from both of you, scolding softly every time he finds a new patch of frozen skin.
he runs a bath that smells like pine and orange because “we smell like outside.” you both fit in the tub even though it’s technically too small, knees knocking, steam curling around you. he washes snow from your hair with the same careful hands he uses on his violin strings.
later, wrapped in his hoodie and fuzzy socks, you sit on the windowsill with mugs of the fancy hot chocolate and watch kids discover your snowman. one little girl in a pink coat hugs it and refuses to leave. hao smiles so wide his cheeks hurt.
“we made someone’s day,” he says quietly.
you lean your head on his shoulder. “we made mine first.”
he turns to kiss your temple, slow and reverent. “next time,” he murmurs, “we’re making a whole orchestra. snow violin. snow cello. maybe a snow conductor to drive the band's bus.”
“deal,” you whisper. “but only if you wear the all those layers again. you looked like a very sexy fluffy ball.”
he chokes on a marshmallow.
outside, the snow keeps falling, soft and endless, covering your footprints, covering the little forever message at the snowman’s feet, keeping it safe until it melts in spring.
inside, you stay on the windowsill until the mugs are empty and your legs are asleep and hao carries you to bed, still whispering promises about next year’s snow family and the year after that and every year after that until you’re old and grey and still dragging him outside at 6 a.m. to build lopsided masterpieces that spell out the same thing every time:
you + me = forever.
the snowman stands guard all day, scarf fluttering, violin arms raised like he’s mid-concerto, smiling his tiny crooked smile at every passerby.
he lasts four whole days before the sun takes him.
the scarf survives. hao wears it every winter after that, even when it gets too small, even when the cashmere pills.
he says it smells like the morning you wrote forever in the snow and meant it.
